William Johnstone - Fire in the Ashes

“A man of his years and experience?” the petite brunette asked doubtfully.

“I didn’t say in heat.”

And both women laughed. “ Sí,” Rosita flipped her fingers as if they were burning. “ Yo caigo en ello.”

“Yeah, I just bet you catch on.”

Rosita was silent for a moment, then asked, “Jerre?”

Dawn shook her head. “No. But I think that’s the closest he’s ever been. He worries about her a lot. I wish I knew where she was. What was happening to her. Everybody I’ve talked with says she was a good person.”

“You used the past tense, Dawn,” Rosita said gently.

“I know,” Dawn replied.

Jerre looked out at the first snowfall of the year in central Illinois. In the room behind her, Lisa and several of her friends sat and talked and laughed. Jerre knew the teenagers had come over just to cheer her up, and she should be grateful for that—but she wished they would just leave her alone.

“Jerre?” Lisa called. “You better come on ‘fore this pie is all gone. It’s pretty good.”

Jerre forced a smile and turned around to face the small group. “I don’t think so, girls. Thanks anyway.”

Lisa rose from her Buddha-like sitting position on the floor and walked to her. “Jake says Hartline can get rough and mean at times. He got that way with you?”

That was the problem, Jerre thought. He had not. The mercenary had been every inch a gentleman. And, she fought to hide her smile and the dark humor that sprang into her brain, Hartline had more than his share of inches. “No, Lisa, that isn’t it at all. I just want to go home.”

“I was afraid of Jake at first,” the girl confessed. “But he’s changed in just the time I’ve known him. I… know he’s done some very bad things. Awful things, I’m sure. But with me he’s always been real gentle. Sometimes I even think he loves me. He doesn’t like Hartline.”

Jerre thought she might see a way out of this mess. Maybe. “Jake really does want to farm, doesn’t he?”

The girl’s face brightened. “Yes—yes, he really does. Lately that’s all he talks about. Getting away from here and maybe moving away—up in the northwest someplace…” She trailed it off, her eyes clouding with suspicion. “How come you askin’ all these questions?”

Jerre shrugged. “You came to me, Lisa. I didn’t come to you.”

The girl smiled. “Yeah, that’s right, ain’t it. I guess some of Jake’s feelings have rubbed off on me. I’d like to talk to you some more, but… I ain’t real sure I can trust you.”

“You can trust me, Lisa. If there is anyone in this area you can trust, it’s me.”

“I kinda believe you, Jerre. I want to real bad, you know?”

“How much education do you have, Lisa?”

“Not much,” the girl said bitterly. “They didn’t get the schools goin’ where we lived ‘til I was ten. I guess maybe I got a sixth grade schoolin’. ‘Bout as much as any kid my age.”

“Ben Raines is going to get all the schools going again—real soon.”

“Will you tell me the truth if I ask you something, Jerre?”

“Certainly.”

“Is Ben Raines a god of some sort?”

“No, Lisa. Ben is no god.”

“Then how come he can do all these things in so short a time?”

That stumped her. For in the three weeks Ben had sat in the office of the president, he had accomplished quite a lot. Again, she fought to keep from smiling. Including, she had heard on the radio, hanging about fifty people for various crimes.

“Some people say he is,” the teenager persisted. “They said any man who’s been shot up as bad as he’s been and not die from it… got to be a god.”

So it’s spreading, Jerre thought. And not just among Ben’s own people. Maybe, she thought, there is a way out.

“All right, Lisa,” Jerre said, the lie building in her, leaving a bad taste on her tongue. “Yes. I’ll level with you. Ben… is different from other people.” Not a lie. “I’ve seen what happens to people who make him angry.” Sure have. “It’s not very pleasant.” Sure isn’t. “You don’t want to make him mad.”

The teenager backed up a step. “He ain’t got no call to be mad at me.”

“Not yet.”

“What you mean, Jerre?”

Jerre fixed her gaze firmly on the girl. “You know exactly what I mean, Lisa. And you’d better not tell anyone about this conversation, either.”

“I promise I won’t, Miss Jerre,” Lisa whispered. “But what can I do to help?”

“To help whom?”

Lisa gulped. “You, I guess.”

“That is something you’ll have to decide for yourself, Lisa.”

“I’ll think on it, Miss Jerre. But… something is troubling me. If Ben Raines is so powerful, how come you’re still a prisoner here?”

“Haven’t you ever heard about how gods move in mysterious ways?”

“My folks said there ain’t no God in Heaven; and no Jesus Christ, neither. But I’ve heard that line you just said.”

“Think about that, Lisa.”

“Do I have to?”

“What do you think?”

“Seems like you’re sure putting a lot on me, Miss Jerre?” Jerre’s only reply was a cold look.

“Is there a shrine to Ben Raines, Miss Jerre?”

Jerre thought of Tri-States; of the twins. “In a way, yes, there is, Lisa. And it’s beautiful.”

The girl sucked in her breath. “I sure would like to see that someday.”

Jerre took another step toward freedom. “You help me, Lisa, and I promise you you’ll see it.”

“I’d be scared!”

“No need to be.”

“I’ll think on it, Miss Jerre. And I won’t tell nobody. Cross my heart.”

Jerre wanted to weep at the teenager’s ignorance. Instead, she put her hand on Lisa’s arm. “I know I can count on you to do the right thing, Lisa.” She smiled at her. “We’ll talk again. Come back anytime.”

“I’ll sure do it, Miss Jerre.”

Jerre watched them leave the house. They waved at the guards stationed around the home. Jerre turned her back to the window, gazing into the fireplace, blazing with fire and warmth.

“I don’t know what I’ve started here, Ben,” she murmured low. “It may mushroom all out of proportion. But please forgive me if it does. I just want to get out and go home. I want my babies!”

Matt drove down the west side of the Mississippi River. He had skirted Dubuque, picked up Highway 67, and would cross into Illinois at the bridge at Savannah. He had a general idea where Hartline had made his headquarters. Matt stopped and looked at his map. He had drawn a crude circle in red.

The circle had Peoria almost in the dead center, the line running from Galesburg to Macomb to Springfield to Decatur, then northeast to Farmer City. Then it began a gentle curving north through Gibson City and Chatworth. At Chatworth, it curved northwest to Streator, running straight west for about fifty-five miles to just south of Kewanee. Then the line dipped southwest back to Galesburg.

On a much larger map, Matt had cut the area into quarters, each road in the quarter a different color. He would take them one at a time, just like pieces of a pie. He would find Jerre.

And he would kill Hartline.

About twenty-five miles north of Terre Haute, Indiana, Ike and his team, made up of ex-SEALs, ex-Green Berets, ex-Marine Force Recon, and ex-Rangers, said their good-byes and good luck.

“You all know what to do without me goin’ over it again,” Ike told the men. “For the next few months Hartline is somewhere within a ninety-mile radius of Peoria. Word we got is come next spring he’ll be movin’ up to Iowa to set up his HQ. We got to find him ‘fore then. You boys take care.”