own end. With Logan, any good thing he might accomplish will be done in accordance with
“You and Logan—and this might surprise you—are somewhat alike. But while he advocates a pulling together of the States, you advocate a dozen countries within one mother cocoon, each with their own system of justice; but answering, in part, to the mother. I agree with you. I think that is what would have become of our nation if the war hadn’t struck the world.
“Logan has a hard pull ahead of him; splinters have begun forming. But they are not embedded firmly and Logan’s people will pull them out—in time. That’s why I believe we have time to set up and get ready.” He sighed. “I think, Ben, your concept is a good one—and a fair one—and I’d like to be a part of it. I’ll be here, doing my bit, gathering around me some people that will fit into your—our—type of society. I know more than a few.”
“I wonder how many people would—could—live under the type of government we advocate?”
“More than you might think, Ben. But fear is the foundation of all governments. That’s not an original quote. Adams, I believe made that statement. And your government will be based on the same, but with a type of fear that all involved will have accepted—willingly. It will work.”
For a time, the doctor thought. Until Big Brother gains enough strength to crush it. Or tries to crush it. But how does one kill a dream, an idea, whose time has come?
By now, Ben had grown accustomed to the empty interstates and highways. Always a loner, he enjoyed the solitude of his wanderings. He listened to the winds sing through the open windows, a sighing, melodic accompaniment to his voice as he spoke into the mike, the tape hissing, recording his thoughts, his observations, his plans for the future—a verbal transcription of the worst tragedy to strike the earth since God sent the flood, and of the society that Ben wanted to build out of the ashes of war.
Did God do this?
That question was one that Ben often pondered as he lay in his blankets. But if He did—why? He certainly didn’t spare just the so-called “good people.” At least Ben had not seen any modern-day Noah.
When the weather was good and the skies, alive with sparkling diamonds in the darkness of space velvet, were fair, Ben liked to spread his ground sheet in the open and sleep under the canopy of nature. He was not afraid of anything or anyone slipping up on him in the darkness, for Juno had proven, time and again, to be a marvelous watchdog. Ben never used a leash or line on him because although the malamute did roam, he seldom roamed out of earshot.
And Ben dreamed, his dreams a curious fusion of Jerre and Salina. In his dreams, he relived the nights of lovemaking with the blond Jerre, and fantasized of making love to the dusky Salina. His dreams left him restless upon waking, and sometimes irritable. And he knew he’d damned well better find him a woman pretty quick, or else take matters in hand. And that thought amused him. For while he knew the biggest liar in the world was a person who claimed never to have masturbated, and the second biggest the person who said he was going to quit, self- abuse was not Ben’s forte.
At Craig, Colorado, Ben cut straight north on highway 13/789 and headed into Wyoming, wild and beautiful country. He drove over to Rock Springs, on up to the Grand Teton National Park, then headed into Idaho. He saw very few live people, and spent most of his time prowling through stores and banks, picking up diamonds and gold. When the load got to be too much, he cached it along the way, making very detailed maps as to the spot.
Spending time in the Grand Tetons, it was there Ben realized, with a pang of guilty conscience, that he had not used the radio Ike had given him. So on a cold, clear night, he cranked up the set.
“Son of a bitch!” Ike roared, back in Mississippi, his exasperated voice ringing from the earphones. “Where the goddamned hell have you been? We’ve been worried about you, walking the floor, you no-good prick! You —”
Megan took the mike, her voice calm. “How have you been, Ben?” she asked.
“Fine, Megan. Seeing the country, setting up little groups to go into… that area we discussed. What’s the situation where you are? Besides Ike losing his temper, that is.”
“Logan’s people have been in here once, and we have rumors they are coming back. The next time to get a bit rough about us relocating.”
“What’d they have to say about Ike’s guns?”
“Said he’d have to give them up.”
“No son of a bitch is takin’ my guns!” Ike roared in the background.
“Be quiet, Ike,” Megan said. “Ben? Word is Logan is preparing to move against those blacks who have settled in Louisiana and parts of south Mississippi. This fall is the deadline he’s given them. Some mercenary is going to lead the push.”
“Kenny Parr. I know him—he’s no good. But New Africa never had a chance to begin with. I told them that.”
Ike came on the air. “Do we prepare to move, General?”
“Yes,” Ben said, taking the final step toward total commitment. “I’ll see both of you in a week or so.” Ben signed off.
Two days later he was speaking with Dr. Chase and his wife.
“Time to move?” the doctor asked.
Ben nodded his reply.
Chase smiled. “Give up your plans to write the history of the tragedy?”
“For the moment. Doctor, I know you have to be part of the Rebels, so get your people together and start moving toward Idaho.” He unfolded a map. “Right there. Strip everything bare as you go. Take it all. I want everything you people think we can use. It’s going to rust and rot if we—or somebody—doesn’t take it. So let’s us use it to rebuild.”
“The finest medical facilities in the entire world.” Chase smiled. “A dream come true.”
“So let’s do it.”
“That sounds like an order, Mr. Raines.”
“If that’s the way you want to take it, Captain.”
He grinned. “Yes, sir, General.” He saluted.
Ben returned the smile. “That’s the sloppiest salute I believe I’ve ever seen.”
The doctor shrugged. “Hell, I was in the medical corps—not one of you crazy gun soldiers.”
Americans will take only so much pushing before they begin shoving back. It takes a lot of shoving, but even mild-mannered people have a point one had best not step past. After three decades of wasteful spending, high taxes, a terrible no-win war, political upheaval, race riots, several near-depressions, and, finally, a world war unequaled in history, many of those Americans left alive… got mad.
Now when Logan’s agents moved into a community to shove the people out, they were met, in many instances, with violence.
Resistance groups were formed, hastily thrown together without much thought given as to the participants’ qualifications as warriors. They were crushed, brutally, by the regular military, government agents, and Logan’s own private army. Many military men quit, deserted, rather than act as Logan’s bully boys.
The newly reorganized Joint Chiefs of Staff met, discussed the matter, and the head of the JCs asked for a meeting with President Logan. Admiral Stevens pointed a finger at his commander in chief, and fired off a salvo.
“Now you listen to me, Mr. President. You are
“The what?” Logan asked. He had never been a student of history. The subject bored him.
Admiral Stevens sighed, kept his temper in check, and thought: you dumb son of a bitch. He said, “Bully boys.”
“Oh.”
“I’ll agree, Mr. President, we have to keep this nation whole, but not by Americans knocking other Americans’ heads. We will keep order, as set forth by the Constitution, but as far as I’m concerned, martial law is hereby lifted and the Constitution is restored.”
