Fire in the Ashes ta-2

by William Wallace Johnstone

  “Umm,” Ben said. He handed her a list of things he wanted her to do and left the tent.

  When she returned from her lunch break, there was a bottle of Shalimar sitting on her desk.

  TWELVE

  True to his word, Captain Jake Devine was standing alone, leaning against his car, parked on the shoulder of the highway. His M-10 was nowhere in sight; he wore only a holstered pistol at his side.

  “You see,” Lisa said, smiling at Jake but directing her remark to the crowd of young people with her. “I told you he’d be here and be alone.”

  “The ditches are probably full of government agents and mercenaries,” a young man said, looking furtively around him. “We’re probably all going to be taken and tortured.”

  Jake laughed at this. He jerked his thumb toward the back seat of the car. “You young folks want a Coke?”

  “A real Coke?” a young lady asked. “I mean, like a real Coke?”

  “The real thing,” Jake said, chuckling. “But I bet you’re too young to remember that slogan.”

  “I kinda remember it,” a young man said. “But it’s hazy-like.”

  “Well, you young folks help yourselves to all the Coke and sandwiches you want. Then we’ll go wherever you want to go and talk about some things.”

  “You serious, man?” a very pretty brunette asked. “You alone—with us; wherever we want to go?”

  “You got it, young lady. You want my sidearm as a gesture of trust?”

  “You’re joking, man!”

  “No. I’m very serious.”

  “All right!” the suspicious young man said. “Maybe you really are on the level after all.”

  “I am. Go on,” Jake gestured to the car. “Eat and drink—I know you’re all probably famished.”

  “You’re too much, Captain,” one of the older of the crowd said, taking in the captain’s bars on Jake’s shoulders. He was all of twenty-one. “You’re not like a government man at all.”

  Jake’s smile was sad. “Some of the agents are a bit… shall we say, overzealous in the performance of their duties. If I had my way, I’d dismiss those men. But,” he shrugged, “it’s really no worse than Ben Raines’s people assassinating fifty FBI agents and then strapping them in the seats of an airplane, blood and guts and brains hanging out, and shipping them back to their wives and girlfriends and mothers and fathers. I think that is rather… gruesome, don’t you agree?”

  “If he did it,” a young man said.

  “Oh, he did it,” Jake replied. “I have the pictures of that… sight. I’ll be more than happy to show them to you.”

  “Gross!” a young lady said. “I think I’ll pass, man.”

  “Anytime you wish to see them.”

  “Where do we go to talk?” Lisa asked.

  Jake shrugged. “Anywhere you like.”

  “Can I have another sandwich?” a boy asked.

  * * *

  “You smell very nice, Ms. Bellever,” Ben said, entering the tent.

  “Thank you for the perfume, General.”

  “You’re more than welcome.” His eyes drifted over her olive-drab-clad body, taking in all the curves. “I think you ladies must do something to those field clothes.”

  “Guilty, sir. We take in a tuck here and there.”

  “Very nicely done, Ms. Bellever. Keep up the good work…” He looked up as Cecil entered the tent.

  “Bad news, Ben.”

  “Oh?”

  “It appears Hartline has changed tactics in the field. We’ve lost the entire northern half of Indiana. Some mercenary by the name of Jake Devine is in command, and he must be one smooth talker.”

  “Captain Jake Albert Devine,” Ben said, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve never met him, but I’ve read intelligence reports on him—back when the Tri-States existed. The young folks love him; and you can just bet ol’ Jake is popping the cock to a number of young girls. He likes that teenage pussy.”

  Cecil glanced at Dawn and was embarrassed at Ben’s vulgarity. “Uh… Ben,” he said.

  “Oh. Excuse me, Ms. Bellever,” Ben said. “I’ll try to watch my language.”

  She laughed at the expression on Cecil’s face. “Colonel Jefferys—have you ever been around a bunch of reporters when they’re drinking?”

  “I’m afraid not, Ms. Bellever.”

  “They aren’t exactly priests and nuns, I can assure you both of that. Do you want me to leave, General, so you and Colonel Jefferys can speak in private?”

  “No. You’ll be handling supersensitive papers and decoding messages while you’re working here. There is no reason at all for you to leave.” He looked at Cecil. “It doesn’t surprise me, Cecil. The people just didn’t have it in them to fight. Doctor Chase warned me this might well be the case. I was wrong in placing too much hope with civilians. They just want to work and be left alone. Can’t blame them for that. Have you talked with Ike about this?”

  “Mentioned it to him. Told him I was coming here, and that you’d probably want to hash this over with the other field commanders.”

  “Get hold of them. We’ll meet at 0800 in the morning. Put everybody on low alert. There is a chance we’ll be pulling out very soon.”

  Dawn felt her heart quicken its pace. Game time, or so it looked, was just about over. Now it was down to, as Jimmy Brady put it, “fish or cut bait.”

  Cecil left the tent and Ben glanced at Dawn. “Getting scared, Ms. Bellever?”

  “I’d be lying if I said no.”

  “Only a fool isn’t afraid of combat, Ms. Bellever. It is the most mind-boggling, terrifying, gut-wrenching sensation a human being will experience.”

  “I can’t imagine you being afraid of anything, General.”

  “Unfortunately, Ms. Bellever, sometimes a man becomes inured to the worst of the combat. The fear comes after the battle.”

  “I… see.”

  “No, you don’t, Ms. Bellever. But you will, I’m afraid.”

  Ben rose to leave and she touched his arm. “General… last night. I mean, I rather enjoyed it.”

  His smile touched her in very intimate places. “I rather enjoyed it, too, Ms. Bellever.”

  “Would I be forward if I asked that we do it again sometime?”

  He laughed. “Ah, the liberated ladies of the latter part of this century. Would you have dinner with me this evening, Ms. Bellever?”

  “I would love to, General—on one condition.”

  “And that is?”

  “Would you please stop calling me Ms.?”

  Ben laughed and left the tent without replying.

  * * *

  “So you see,” Jake said, “this is, as Shakespeare put it, much ado about nothing. All the government wants is for people to get back to work and get this nation rolling again. Then maybe I can go back to Illinois and get back to farming.”

  Lisa and the others laughed at that. “Man,” the brunette said, “I just can’t imagine you plowing a field.”

  I’ll plow your field before too many more days, honey, Jake thought. “Oh, it’s true, dear. Believe it. I was raised on a farm.”

  “Why did you become a mercenary for Lowry?” he was asked.

  “Because I believe in a United States,” he was quick to reply. “I was a professional soldier before the big war of ‘88, and for a few years after that. I got hurt and had to get out of the regular army. This way, I can still serve my country.”

  “May we speak frankly, Captain Devine?” the brunette asked.

  “As frankly as you wish,” she was answered with a smile and a gentle wink. “I am very interested in your views and comments. Anything to get this fighting a thing of the past.”

  “What do you want from us?”

  “I want you all to come with me to the holding camp down in Decatur and over in Logansport. I want you to bring a camera—or I’ll supply you with one—and take all the pictures you want. Talk to every person there. I want you all to see that everyone there is being well-fed and
cared for; they have, if not nice, at least comfortable living quarters; and that no one—repeat no one—is or has been tortured in any way, shape, form, or fashion.”

  “But all the rumors…?” a young lady said.

  Jake brushed them off. “Lies. Dirty lies from the Rebels’ camp. Come with me—I’ll prove it to you all.”

  The young people looked at Lisa; she nodded her head minutely. She received an answering nod in the affirmative.

  “Great!” Jake beamed. “Lisa, you ride with me. You other young people can take those two station wagons over there,” he pointed, “and follow us. You’re all going to be very pleasantly surprised.”

  He could not conceal his smile as he held the door for Lisa.

  Nice tits, he thought.

  * * *

  Dawn could not hide her smile as they carried their meal trays from the mess tent back to Ben’s quarters. She said, “I thought the brass always had better food than the enlisted people?”

  “Not in this army,” Ben told her. “And it shouldn’t be that way in any army. However,” he smiled, “I do have this bottle of wine that should make the meal a bit more palatable.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Picked it up on the way here from Wyoming. You’re not going to believe me when I show it to you.”

  “My God, Ben!” she blurted, after they had placed their trays on the table and Ben opened his trunk and removed the bottle of wine. “That’s a Rothchild.”

  “1955. Wonder if that was a good year?”

  They tasted the wine after clinking glasses.

  “Excellent,” Ben said. “Should go right with this SOS we’re having.”

  Dawn looked at her plate of dried beef in gravy over biscuits. “Why is it called SOS?”

  “The initials for which it stands,” Ben said with a smile, knowing very well what was next.

  “What does SOS mean?” She took a small tentative bite. “Oh, this is good!”

  “Shit on shingle.”

  She dropped her fork. “You’re kidding!”

  “I think it’s been called that since World War Two. Maybe further back than that. But it’s tasty and hot and really, I suppose, rather good for one.”

  “We’ll let that one be you,” Dawn pushed her plate from her. “I’ll just have a little salad and some wine.”

  “Plenty of wine,” Ben spoke around a mouthful of SOS. “I pinched a case.”

  Her eyes widened. “A whole case of Rothchild ‘55?”

  “A whole case, dear.”

  “This is going to be a memorable evening.” Her eyes lifted to touch his across the table.

  “I hope so,” he said quietly.

  * * *

  “I just can’t believe it,” Lisa said. She had bathed in the first hot water she’d seen in two weeks, and Jake had rounded up some genuine Levi’s for her (which the young lady filled out very well) and a western shirt and good sturdy shoes.

  “What is it you can’t believe, dear?” Jake took her small hand and guided her slowly toward his quarters at the holding area for survivors of the government crackdown on dissidents.

  Lisa rather liked the feel of his strong hand holding hers and the way their hips sometimes touched as they walked. She knew what was coming—what he probably had in mind for her; but the thought was not disturbing to her. Jake had been true to his word right down the line: Lisa had not eaten so well in… she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a rib-eye; Jake had given her some nice clothes; her friends had a nice place to sleep and some of the same good food. All in all, she mused, it won’t be a bad trade-off.

  Like most young ladies her age, fifteen to twenty, Lisa had only vague memories of the big war of ‘88. But she, like so many others, had bitter memories of the struggle for survival since the bombings: never enough food or warm clothing; never enough money to buy nice things; the constant threat of being attacked by roaming gangs of hoodlums.

  “Oh,” Lisa said, “everything I’ve seen the past few hours. The nice treatment the people are receiving; the good food… everything. I just… I mean, it’s so hard for me to believe Ben Raines and his people are lying to us. But I see now that they are. It’s… it hurts, kind of.”

  “I know, dear,” his voice was deep and comforting in the dusk of evening. “But I won’t lie to you—I promise you that.”

  They had reached his quarters. She stood quietly while he opened the door. He looked at the teenager and she returned the frank stare.

  “You’ll be sure I have enough to eat and pretty clothes to wear?” she asked.

  “I can promise you that, Lisa.”

  She stepped inside and the door closed behind her.

  * * *

  Dawn slept with one arm flung across Ben’s naked chest, her breasts warm against him, the soft down of her pubic area pressing against his thigh. October winds were blowing cool across the huge park, and the blanket which covered them felt warm against bare flesh.

  They were both adults, the days of groping and grappling long past them. It had been a silent, mutual consenting, with neither one of them in any great rush for completion.

  For the first time, it had been almost perfect, for they had talked of likes and dislikes in sexual preferences before anything began.

  Her body had been leaner and harder than the pictorials in the magazines, but that served only to make her more mature, at least in Ben’s eyes.

  Ben looked at her in the dim light in the isolated tent. She was deep in sleep. Easing his way from her warmth, he quietly dressed and slipped outside. He looked toward Ike’s tent and caught the red glow of a cigar. He walked toward the glow, checking the luminous hands of his watch as he walked. Ten o’clock. The camp area was very quiet.

  “Evenin,’ El Presidente,” Ike said. And Ben knew the man was grinning.

  “The camp is unusually quiet for ten o’clock,” Ben said, squatting down beside his friend.

  “Rumors fly, ol’ buddy. Folks have decided we’re probably pulling out very soon; need their rest.”

  Ben lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply before replying. “They’re probably right,” he finally spoke.

  “I’m gonna give you some advice, ol’ buddy,” Ike said. “Take it or leave it. I know your guts must be in a knot about Tina joinin’ Gray’s Scouts and about Hazen’s suggestion of a suicide run against Lowry. Well, I’ve been doin’ some thinkin’ ‘bout that.” He sighed. “I just don’t think Lowry’s the top rooster in the hen house. Not anymore… if he ever was. I think a move against him wouldn’t help us at all.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. But every indication points to Lowry being the brains behind Logan. How do you explain that?”

  “I don’t. I believe he was. But couldn’t there have been a silent third man just as well? Some invisible third party who was the real brains?”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know; I don’t even know if there is one. A gut hunch tells me there is. Probably a person we would never suspect.” Again, he sighed. “Anyway, it’s moot now, isn’t it, Ben?”

  “Yes. At least for a time.”

  “We’re moving out tomorrow, aren’t we?”

  “Yes. We’ve tried arming the people, hoping they would find the courage and the brains to help us. That failed. We can’t just stay here forever.”

  “Ben… we could just turn our backs to the problem. Go on back to the Tri-States, or set up somewhere else.”

  “Sooner or later, Ike, we’d have to fight—you know that. Might as well get it done now and get it over with.”

  “I agree, Ben. But I had to point out the options. Ms. Hickman?”

  “What about her?”

  “What happens to her?”

  “She goes with us.”

  “Ms. Olivier?”

  Ben thought for a moment. “When we move, we’re going to be hitting hard and fast. TV viewing is going to be limited. Besides, I think Hartline is stringing Ms. Olivier along. We’ll give it another week. It’
ll take us that long to map out plans and pull out of the mountains.”

  “And what happens after a week?”

  Ben looked at him. “We send someone in to get Ms. Olivier and daughter.”

  “Suppose she doesn’t want to go?”

  “I think,” Ben’s words were soft, “that in a week she’ll be more than ready to leave Richmond.”

  “Premonition?”

  Ben shook his head. “I just know Hartline’s reputation.”

  THIRTEEN

  The sergeants were rolling out the troops at dawn the following morning, shouting out orders. The troops responded like the well-oiled machines their instructors had made them.

  At 0800, Ben’s field commanders showed up for the scheduled meeting. Ben had not informed them of the pull-out, and was pleased to see smiles on all their faces at the sudden activity in Base Camp One.

  Ben shook hands all around, General Hazen saying, “Made your mind up, eh, Ben?”

  “We’re going to pull out gradually, Bill. Over a week’s time. Let’s start hashing out what’s what and how and when.”

  “How, is easy,” Hector Ramos said. “We kick ass. I’ve been giving some thought to where.”

  “That’s what we’re here for, gentlemen,” Ben said, leading them to his big tent. He sent out for some coffee and was amused at the looks the officers gave Dawn.

  “I swear I’ve seen her before,” Conger said.

  “Me, too,” Hector echoed. “Damn, she looks familiar to me.”

  “Dawn Bellever,” Ben said softly, a smile playing around his mouth.

  “Ahh!” Conger said.

  “Bello, bello,” Hec said with a smile and a waggling movement of his fingers.

  “What the hell are you guys talking about?” General Krigel asked.

  Conger told him.

  Krigel looked at the retreating derriere of Dawn. “No shit!” he said.

  Work halted briefly outside the tent as laughter erupted from inside.

  “What’s going on there?” a dark-haired, small young woman asked Dawn.

  “Damned if I know. Dawn Bellever.” She stuck out her hand.

  “Rosita O’Brien.” The women shook hands. “I’m with Colonel Ramos’s detachment. Sounds like the brass is having a stag party in there.”