William Johnstone - Fire in the Ashes

A dozen yards away, trembling in the rough shelter of a barranca, Judy tried to still her ragged breathing. She had been so frightened when Medlow ran her off the road she had failed to grab the only weapon she had, a tire iron.

Medlow came closer. Judy panicked and felt her feet slipping in the loose gravel. She slid down into the dry creek bed and landed on her back. Medlow was on her in an instant, tearing at her clothes. The cool desert air fanned her bare hips and belly.

His fingers found her and entered her, spreading her. Then she screamed as his hardness replaced his fingers and drove deep. Medlow began hunching, panting in her face, his breath stinking. She screamed as his hands found her breasts and squeezed brutally.

Judy’s hands clutched at the dry gravel bed until she found a baseball-sized rock. She slammed the rock against Medlow’s head, just above his right ear. He slumped on her, unconscious, blood dripping on her bare skin from his torn flesh.

She wriggled from under him and covered herself with her torn clothing. She started to run, then remembered what a Rebel sergeant had told a group of them at a secret training. She pictured the sergeant and brought back his voice.

“Strip the body of all weapons, ammunition, and money. We’re preparing to fight a guerrilla war and we have no time for niceties. Take his ID, badge, everything we might be able to use. Then make damn sure he’s dead.”

Judy stripped the body and Medlow’s car. There, she found a shotgun and several boxes of shells for his pistol and shotgun. She walked back to the federal police officer and stood over him. She cocked his service revolver, a .44 magnum, and blew half his head into a bloody mass.

All across the nation similar events were unfolding as the federal police and Hartline’s men became more savage and brutal in their handling of any suspected Rebel sympathizers.

It had been raining off and on for a week, ever since VP Lowry had met with the military; ever since that damned demonstration that had turned into a riot. Two cops were dead, a dozen civilians dead. A hundred or more civilians hospitalized, several hundred arrested. And the press was really outraged. One of their own was on the run after killing a federal cop and many press-people were blatantly ignoring the government’s censorship order.

President Aston Addison was behaving as if nothing had happened. He had called a press conference; VP Lowry had cancelled it, refusing to allow any network to carry the president’s message. But Addison had not lost his cool; had acquiesced in style, without losing his temper.

Goddamn the man! What did it take for him to show some temper.

And now this.

Lowry turned in his chair and looked at the dozen men and women from the House and Senate seated around his desk.

Ben Raines had moved east and was in command of the Rebels in the Great Smoky Mountains Park.

The son of a bitch was really alive!

The bastard!

The VP looked like a man who had just bumped into death and couldn’t quite forget the encounter and ensuing chill. When he spoke, his words were slow, carefully enunciated.

“After the states of Tennessee and North Carolina lost so many police officers, I asked Colonel Cody to handpick a battalion of men from his own people and from those units of the regular military who remain loyal to us. Every man picked was an experienced combat man. Almost 900 officers and men. Late yesterday, 83 of them came staggering out of the park area… shot to pieces, frightened out of their wits, babbling about facing thousands of Rebels…”

“They may have exaggerated the number somewhat,” Senator Stout said.

VP Lowry looked at the man. “Shut up.”

“Aston Addison is behaving as though nothing has happened. As though he is still running the country. You people put him in office, you people may now remove him.”

Representative Alice Tyler shifted uncomfortably in her chair.

“Something, Mrs. Tyler?”

“The… ah… military,” she said, “especially the chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Admiral Calland, told us,” she indicated the other members of Congress, “President Addison is to remain in office.”

“Did he now?”

“That is correct, Mr. Vice President,” Senator Douglas said, his voice low and rumbling, almost matching in timbre the grumbling of the thunder outside the VP’s official residence. “I personally believe the military is waiting to see which way the action moves, so to speak.”

“I think you’re wrong,” Al Cody said. “I think the military is solidly behind Raines and his people.”

“The military is neutral,” Representative Altamont spoke. “At least in their actions toward this uprising. I can’t speak, of course, for their thoughts. But the military will stay out of any fighting—for the time being.”

“You’re sure of that?” VP Lowry asked. He knew Altamont had a brother who was a general in the Air Force. “You got that from family?”

“Yes, to the first; no comment to the latter.”

“All right,” Lowry smiled, rubbing his hands together. “The military told me the same thing, but I didn’t believe them.” He turned to Cody. “You know most of the Rebels, right?”

“A good many of them.”

“Know where their families are?”

“Certainly.”

“Start putting the pressure on the families,” Lowry ordered.

“That could backfire,” Tyler said. “That could really set all the people against us. My God, Weston, we’re not some barbaric third-world country. There has to be a better way.”

“Name it,” Lowry prompted. “We’ll talk about it.”

She could not.

Lowry looked at the others: Senators Stout, Slate, Douglas, Woodland, Carlise, Reggio; Representatives Tyler, Lee, Altamont, Terry, Clifton.

One by one their eyes dropped away from his steady gaze.

Lowry glanced at Cody. “Do it,” he said.

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 blustered. “Perhaps our relationship is more of the platonic type.”

“Horseshit, 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 damn 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 god.”

“That worries me, Lamar.”

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