Ashes - Fire In The Ashes Part 6

Jerre did not accompany Ben to the Great Smokies National Park. She had stayed behind in their base camp in Wyoming. He did not know she was pregnant, and she had warned Doctor Chase if he opened his mouth about it she would personally tell everybody in camp the old doctor was secretly seeing a woman forty years his junior.

"That's blackmail!" Chase had responded.

"Actually," Jerre had smiled, "it's a compliment. That a man your age can still get it up should be written about in the annals of history."

"Don't be crude," he'd bl.u.s.tered. "Perhaps our relationship is more of the platonic type."

"Horses.h.i.t, Doctor."

Chase could but grin. "Jerre ... I won't let on to Ben, but I don't understand your motives in asking me to remain silent."

"Lamar," she touched his arm. "I love Ben Raines more than life, and I want to bear his children; but Ben does not now and never has loved me."

"But..."

"Oh, he likes me," she smiled. "Perhaps a bit more than like. He loved Salina, but not completely. I don't believe Ben had ever really, totally, loved a woman."

"Well, he'd d.a.m.n well better get hopping, then. He isn't a spring chicken."

She shrugged that off. "Ben has a dream, Lamar, and I'm not sure a woman has a place in that dream.

So I'm bowing out. But ... something else, Doctor; I think maybe you've noticed it, too. Some of the men and women ... they seem to, well..."

"View Ben as somehow larger than life. Yes. I've noticed it. I hate to use the word, but there are a few, so far, at least, that appear to think of Ben as being just under a G.o.d."

"That worries me, Lamar."

"It should worry us all. Is Ben aware of it?"

"No," she was quick with her reply. "I think at first he would not believe it; if he did accept it as truth, he would be appalled."

Doctor Chase put his hand on her shoulder. "Are you going to the eastern base at all, Jerre?"

"No," the word was quietly spoken. Quietly and quickly. "I think it best that Ben not have me to worry with and about, especially now that I'm pregnant."

"Plans?"

"Northern California. Our base up near the Oregon line."

"That's Doctor Ca.n.a.le's territory. Good man. I'll talk with him before you leave. I hate to see you leave, kiddo."

"Don't get maudlin," she grinned at him.

"Heaven forbid!"

She looked around her. "I wonder if Ben's dream will ever come true?"

Five.

By August of 1989, everyone who was coming into Ben's dream society ... was in. The three-state area looked like the world's largest supply dump-and probably was. Ben had ordered his roaming units of Rebels to take everything that wasn't nailed down-bring it with them to the three-state area. Entire towns had been stripped bare. Every ounce of gold and silver and precious gem had been carefully searched for and taken. Billions of dollars of gold, silver, and precious stones were now under guard in Idaho, Wyoming, and Montana. These would be used to back the new currency.

The few survivors in the three states were in almost total confusion due to lack of organization; something nearly all governments discourage. For local militia, except those under strict government control, cannot be established in the United States, not for more than a hundred years. Most governments are based on fear: fear of the IRS, fear of the FBI, fear of the Treasury Department, fear of the state police, fear of the tax collector-fear ofeverything. That is the only way a ma.s.sive bureaucracy can function. For if the people are armed and organized, and of one mind, the people might decide that federal judges and the Supreme Court don't have the right to dictate how taxpayers should run their lives; and those taxpayers just might decide to start hanging murderers and rapists and child molesters-those they didn't shoot from the outset, that is.

And the people (who, so the myth goes, comprise the government and are supposed totell government whatthey want, and the government is then supposed to do what the people tell them to do) ... well, that would mean the people would truly be in control. Big Brother doesn't like to think about that ever happening. Scary.

When everyone who was coming in ... was in, Ike's wife, Megan, had asked Ben, "What are you going to call your new state, Ben?"

Ben looked at her, surprised. "Mine? This is not mine. Call it Montana, Idaho, and Wyoming. What else?"

"Who is the governor?" Ben was asked. "The leader-the man in charge?"

"There isn't any," Ben said.

"Well, then, Ben Raines ... I guess we'll just have to have us an election."

"Just don't nominate me," he said. "I'm a writer, got a lot to do. I'm not a politician."

And Ben could not understand why everyone had smiled at that.

Ben watched the bodies of the dead government agents and mercenaries being buried in a ma.s.s grave.

After being stripped of all weapons and clothing, they were dumped into a huge, bulldozed-out pit, covered, and forgotten. No records were kept as to who was buried in the pit.

"I don't think we're going to have that year you wanted," Ike said.

"Maybe not, but we still are not going on the offensive. The new people need more time in training; several more months. Besides, I want to see what the press does with this," he waved a hand toward the ma.s.s grave.

Even in a police state with censorship of the press, hundreds of men and women can't come together in a shooting war without the press playing it up. When the military failed to follow up on the battle in the Smokies, the press put it all together and the headlines screamed.

CIVIL WAR BETWEEN FEDERAL POLICE.

AND RAINES'S REBELS.

MILITARY WILL TAKE NO PART.

Now it was settled. The breach had widened to the point of open war. Lowry had Congress ask for the help of the National Guard and Reserve troops.

Many commanders refused.

Ben and his Rebels waited and trained.

August 1, 1999 The Great Smoky Mountains Ben Raines stood looking at the tired group of new people. All that was left of the bunch from new people from a half dozen states. They had been ambushed in transit, only a hundred and fifty had made it out alive.

Ben stood on a manmade podium in a natural outdoor amphitheater about a mile from Base Camp One.

"All right, people," his voice jerked them to mental attention, eyes forward. Three hundred eyes studied the human legend standing before them. A shade over six feet, one hundred and eighty pounds, hair streaked with gray, blue eyes. Hard looking. "Welcome to Base Camp One. You have now reached the point of no return. From here on, there are but two ways to leave the Rebels: we win the fight, or you die. Those are your only choices.

"To my left is Colonel Ike McGowen, to my right is Colonel Cecil Jefferys. Colonel McGowen is your training officer, so get ready for the roughest time of your life. Colonel Jefferys is my XO. Now let's get to it.

"Guerrilla warfare is a dirty business. Several of you men fought in Vietnam; you know firsthand what I'm talking about. For you inexperienced people, guerrilla warfare is this: hit hard and run like h.e.l.l. For the enemy, guerrilla warfare is fear, confusion, disorganization, distrust, and terror. No great thundering land and sea-battles. No clearly defined battle lines. Guerrillas pop up anywhere, do their jobs, and get out. The enemy doesn't know where they come from or where they're going when they're through."

A hand went up from the ranks of the new people. Ben nodded his acknowledgment and said, "Name, please?"

"Steve Mailer. How much time will we have, General?"

"Hopefully, six months. It's enough time, for you'll be mixed with combat-experienced men and women when the full unit is formed." Ben smiled. "I read about your ... incident. You seem to be well-versed in firearms. Pistols, at least."

"When I saw how our government was ... the direction it was taking, I began giving myself lessons in firearms." For a moment the slender young man was flung back in time...

The agents had entered his office and faced him, smiling and arrogant. "Where's the old broad?"

Steve gritted his teeth. "Mrs. Rommey took the rest of the afternoon off. I trust that meets with your approval?"

"Watch your smart mouth, schoolteacher. Turn around, face the wall, and spread your feet."

Steve had smiled. "Man's rapidly dwindling individuality will someday end with an act of frightened, submissive obedience, groveling at the feet of near-cretins. I have no intention of being a party to that final fall of the curtain."

"Huh?" one agent asked.

"It means, f.u.c.k you!" Steve said. He raised the pistol and turned. The angle of his body had prevented the agents from seeing the .38. He fired twice into each man's chest. He fanned their bodies, taking their weapons, then ran out the rear door...

"...you all right?" Steve caught the last of Ben's question.

"Oh. Yes, sir. I was recalling the ... incident in my office."

"First time to kill a man?" Ike asked.

"Yes, Colonel."

"It won't be the last," Ike told him.

A very blond-haired lady put up a hand. Ben realized then where he'd seen the woman. InPenthouse .

He'd seen quite a lot of the lady in that spread. Although he knew her name, he said, "Name, please?"

"Bellever. Dawn Bellever." She couldn't believe the general was as old as people said he was. Except for his gray-streaked hair, he looked ... well, kind of boyish. "What's to prevent the president from sending in the Air Force and bombing us here in the park?"

"The president is not our enemy," Ben said. "President Addison is a good, fair man-even if he is a liberal..."

That brought a roar of laughter from not only the new people but from Ben's seasoned Rebels.

When the laughter had died down, Dawn asked, "I don't understand, sir. Are you saying that all the rumors we've been hearing; by we, I mean the press-about Vice President Lowry really being the man in power, are true?"

"That is correct, Ms. Bellever."

Ike and Cecil looked at Ben, then at each other. In all their years of a.s.sociation with Ben, neither had ever heard him use Ms. toward any lady.

"Would you explain, sir?" she asked.

"Gladly," Ben smiled.

"Oh, s.h.i.t," Ike muttered. He ignored the look he received from Ben.

"Poor Jerre," Cecil muttered.

Ben looked at him. "What is this, a conspiracy?" he asked softly.

Both men looked straight ahead, in strict military fashion.

"We must maintain military decorum, General," Cecil said with a straight face.

"Comedians," Ben muttered. He turned his gaze to Dawn. Very easy to look at. "Yes, we have proof that VP Lowry was really the man behind President Logan. That should not be difficult to believe-the man was a f.u.c.king idiot."

Again, roars of laughter from the troops.

Ben said, "After Logan's death at the hands of one of my Zero Squad members-Badger Harbin-Lowry, with the help of selected members of both houses of Congress, wormed his way into the second spot, and the second phase of Lowry's power play was complete. Unfortunately for the American public, we have a number of people in Congress who are interested only in looking out for themselves and the devil with the citizen. It is my intention to dispose of those so-called 'public servants'

when the government is wrested from the hands of those now in power and restored to the people."

"What do you mean, General?" Steve Mailer asked. "Dispose of them?"

"I intend to try them for treason and shoot them," Ben replied.

"Jesus," someone among the ranks of the new people muttered.

A young man stepped forward and faced Ben. The young man-no more than a year or two out of his teens-had the look of a boy born into poverty and never finding his way out of it.

"Jimmy Brady, sir. Tennessee. When do our trainin' start?"