“This is mild?” Doctor Chase bitched. “Hell, it isn’t even winter yet!”
“I can arrange for you to go back to the States,” Ben suggested.
“To hell with you, Raines. And put out that damn cigarette. Those things are going to kill you yet.”
Ben blew a smoke ring at Lamar and grinned.
Lamar gave Ben the bird and left the room.
There were many former schoolteachers among the Rebel ranks, and since Anna absolutely positively refused to attend the newly opened public schools, Ben arranged for tutors to meet with her several hours a day.
“Anna doesn’t fit in with those kids,” Jersey told Ben. “And she knows that. She may be a kid by age standards, but she’s a grown woman by all other precepts. And she has a mind of her own, Boss.”
“You’re telling me?”
While many of the Rebels enjoyed the stand-down and often wore civilian clothing while relaxing, Anna refused to wear anything other than Rebel BDUs.
“The Rebel Army is her home, Chief,” Beth told Ben. “It’s her one grip on something permanent. And that is something she has never experienced in memory.”
“Besides,” Corrie added, “most of the women in the ranks tailor their BDUs to fit a little better.”
“Really?” Ben said drily. “I hadn’t noticed.”
That got him a laugh, for Ben was noted for his eye for the ladies.
Along the front, batt coms reported no hostile action. Behind them, the citizens of the countries the Rebels had helped stabilize were slowly rebuilding and putting a semblance of order back into their lives.
In front of them, to the east, lay the unknown, much of it now buried under a thin blanket of white, for winter had appeared early and it had arrived hard.
Back in the States, there were now four major political parties: the Democrats, the Republicans, Simon Border’s Christian Front, and Harriet Hooter’s New Left (she had finally been convinced that ASSHOLE was really not much of a name for a political party).
Of the four major parties, Harriet Hooter’s New Left had become a force to be reckoned with, for the whiners, the complainers, those who wanted something for nothing, the I’ll-sue you-if-you-even-look-at-me bunch, those who wanted the central government to take care of them from cradle to grave, those who wanted to meddle in everybody else’s business, the hard gun-control crowd, the absolutely positively without a doubt politically correct bunch, and every known pervert in the nation had rushed to join Harriet Hooter and her New Left.
When President Homer Blanton did call for general elections, it was going to be a circus . . . but a circus whose final acts could have disastrous results for what was left of the United States of America.
Simon Border had about twenty-five percent of the voters; Harriet Hooter had about twenty-five percent of the voters, and the Republican and Democrat party each had about twenty-five percent of the voters. It was going to be an interesting election.
“Why don’t you retire from national politics and come down to the SUSA and live?” Ben suggested to Homer via radio one early winter’s day. “Cecil will find you a job if you want one.”
“When I call for elections, Ben,” Homer replied, “this country is going to go to hell in a handbasket, and you know it. Is that what you want?”
“I must admit I find the prospect both amusing and tragic,” Ben said. “But if you’ll recall, it’s something that I predicted would happen.”
Homer ignored the last bit. “You have a strange sense of humor, Ben. The once-mightiest nation on the face of the earth is threatening to unravel, and you find it amusing.”
“The SUSA will not be affected by it, Homer. Not one bit. Cecil tells me that several of our states need qualified administrators. He suggested you.”
“When the people vote me out of office, Ben, I’ll consider your suggestion.”
“Homer, Harriet Hooter has gathered every kook, nut, radical, weirdo, and pervert in the country to her New Left Party. You lost a lot of your supporters to Simon Border and his Bible-thumping, self-righteous, hypocritical fruitcakes. The Democratic and Republican Parties are fragmented. The only thing holding the USA together now is the nation’s police, the military, and a few reasonable-thinking men and women. It’s coming unglued, and I’d hate to see you get hurt when it all comes tumbling down.”
“There was a time when you wouldn’t have cared, Ben.”
“You’re wrong, Homer. Back when the nation was whole—more or less—I never wanted violent overthrow of America or any physical harm to come to you. Those around you convinced you that I did, but they were totally off base and knew it. You were fed false information right from the git-go. I just wanted you out of office . . . peacefully and constitutionally.”
“I like your honesty and bluntness, Ben. I find it refreshing.” He paused. “I’m going to try to ride out the storm over here. If I’m not reelected, I just might take up residence in the SUSA and look for a job down there.”
“All right, Homer. I’ll make sure there is a job waiting for you. Talk to you later.”
Ben leaned back in his chair. It wasn’t even winter yet, and already he was bored with the inactivity. He smiled as he toyed with the idea of taking a patrol out into the countryside. Then he remembered there were three battalions of Rebels wintering in and around the city—with checkpoints everywhere—and he knew he wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell of pulling that off.
At the first hint of spring, he was going to hit Budapest, a city filled with punks and creeps and hardened criminals from all over Europe. Well, he could busy himself mapping out that campaign. That would occupy a few weeks of his time.
He looked up as Anna walked past the outer door of his office. Over the weeks, Ben had grown increasingly fond of the girl. He had entertained thoughts of adopting her but was hesitant to approach her with the idea.
What if she told him to stuff it?
Well, there was one way of finding out.
Now was one of those rare moments when Ben was alone. Jersey was outside, checking on the guards. Beth had gone for supplies. Cooper was at a MASH tent getting treated for a bad head cold. And Corrie was en route to the radio shack to check out new equipment.
“Anna?” Ben called.
She stuck her head into the room. “Yes, General Ben?”
“Come in and sit down, honey. I have something to ask you.”
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1996 by William W. Johnstone
Cover design by Open Road Integrated Media
ISBN 978-1-4976-1254-9
This edition published in 2014 by Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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Betrayal in the Ashes Page 23
