Out of the Ashes

private lives of citizens that attributed greatly to the downfall of this nation. Guidance, Hilton? Goddamn!”

“I don’t happen to agree with you, Aston. People need a central point from which to seek advice and guidance.” He thumped a fist on his desk. “Aston, we’ve got to break the backs of the Rebels. Maybe cordon them off, fence them in; then take the Indians out first. Yes,” he mused. “Look, let’s face facts. They’ve stolen three states, and they have no intention of returning them. Because of their resistance, many others in this nation have refused to hand over their guns, and many others are arming themselves with illegal weapons. We’ve got the makings of a damned gunpowder society in this country. When will people learn that when government passes laws, those laws are to be obeyed? It’s for their own good! No, Aston, if we can hammer the Rebels into submission—for the good of the entire country—the rest of the nation will fall into line as well.”

“Oh, yes,” Aston replied, sarcasm thick in his voice. “That’s very good. The world is still stumbling about, attempting to recover from a germ and nuclear war, and you want to start another war. For the good of the country, of course. Hilton, leave the people of the Tri-states alone.”

Hilton Logan rubbed his temples; his headache had returned. It always did whenever he discussed Ben Raines. He thought: God, how I hate that bastard. Even Rev. Falcreek hates him. And he loves everybody… even Jane Fonda, so he says.

“Aston,” he said wearily, “they’ve hanged and shot people out there in… Tri-states.” He spat the words from his mouth. “Capital punishment is the law of the land.” It wasn’t, and he knew it. “They’ve shut down the roads—or blown them up—turning the place into a damned fortress. Colonel Parr won’t even go near the place; says Ben Raines is crazy in combat. A damned ex-mercenary is governor of three states. That is incredible. Aston, they refuse to allow my agents to even come into the place and look around. They threw an FCC inspector out—literally. Some nitwit named Cossman said if he came back he’d tar and feather him. Everybody carries a gun out there. My God, Aston—even the ladies carry guns. Those nuts are teaching war in the public school system. The entire country is an army! They—”

“…Have no crime,” Aston interrupted. “And zero unemployment. And fine medical care—for everybody—on an equal basis. And good schools, and the best race relations anywhere in the world. And do you know how they’ve accomplished all that in such a short time?”

“You’re damned right, I do, Aston! By throwing out any person they consider an undesirable.”

“That’s only part of it, Hilton, and you know it. No—they’ve done it in part by education and partly because they’ve formed a government that is truly of and by the people. It might behoove us to take lessons from Ben Raines.”

“Hell, no! Never!”

Aston tapped a thick letter on the president’s desk. “Here it is, Hilton. You read it. Ben Raines has made the first peace overture. He says they will pay a fair share of taxes to the government of the United States, to be decided upon; vote, live under the American flag, and fight for it, if need be. But they run their own schools, they have their own laws, their own way of doing things. Hilton, there doesn’t have to be any more bloodshed. We could have a powerful ally in Ben Raines’ Tri-states.”

“Spitting in the face of the Constitution?”

Aston smiled grimly. “We did—years ago. What gave us the right and not them?”

“I don’t agree with you about that, and you know it.” The president swiveled in his chair to watch the rain splatter on the window. Damned demonstrators were still out there, protesting something or the other. He wished they’d all fall down and die from pneumonia. “The damned Indians are rebelling, too. Just taking things that don’t belong to them.”

“Just like our ancestors did to them, a couple of hundred years ago.”

“And it’s all Ben Raines’s fault,” Hilton said. “Everything is his fault. He… if he were only dead!”

And I’ve heard the same said about you, Aston thought. “Hilton, it’s a brand-new world out there, and we’re going to have to adapt to it. These are changing times, so let’s change with them.”

“I am the president of the United States. I give the orders. End of discussion.”

“I don’t like the sound of that! Hilton, something else: it’s been almost five years since the military put us in office. Tell me; when will proper elections be held?”

Hilton Logan swiveled in his chair, glared at his VP, then turned to once more gaze at the rain. “When I say so.”

Logan was right to a degree about the laws in the Tri-states. People were hanged and shot. More than a hundred the first years; fifty-odd the second year; ten the next year; and none since then. It is a myth to say that crime cannot be controlled, and the government of the Tri-states proved that by simply stating they would not tolerate it, and backing up their words with hard, swift justice. But capital punishment was not the law of the land. They had prisons, and they were as prisons should be: not very pleasant places to be, but with adequate rehabilitation facilities, the violent housed far from the nonviolent, and weekly visits from ladies so inclined toward that type of employment—which was legal in the Tri-states… and regulated… and taxed.

No one had to steal; there were jobs for anyone who wanted to work, but everyone who lived in the Tri- states and was able to work… worked.

During the first year in the Tri-states, there were marriages among the Rebels, as they began the job of settling in. Steven Miller and Linda Jennings; Al Holloway and Anne Flood; Ben and Salina.

“Yes, suh.” Ike grinned. “Once that ol’ boy got himself a taste of brown sugar, just couldn’t stand it.”

Megan shook her head and tried not to smile. “Ike—you’re impossible!”

Bridge Oliver married a lady from Texas—Abby. Pal Elliot married Valerie. Sam Pyron married a girl from south Louisiana who kept the West Virginia mountain boy in a flat lope every waking hour.

Nora Rodelo married Maj. Clint Voltan and took in five homeless kids to raise.

Ken Amato became news director for the Tri-states’ broadcast system.

Nora, along with Steven and Linda, took over the task of rebuilding the Tri-states’ school system. At the end of three years, they had perhaps the finest school system operating anywhere in the world.

The school system, free of politics and top-heavy bureaucracy, concentrated on the needs of the children’s minds, stressing hard discipline along with the basic educational needs of the child.

Steven Miller, believing that the child not only needs, but wants fair discipline, and that a child’s mind is chaotic, at best, ran a tough but excellent school system. His teachers taught, or attempted to teach, how to make a living once the young person left school. They taught music (fine music), literature, and the three R’s—beginning at an early age. And they taught courses that could not be offered in any other public school in America: respect and fairness toward one’s fellow man… to a degree. They were taught that to work is the honorable path to take. And they openly discussed bigotry, the kids learning that only people with closed minds practiced it.

In the Tri-states, public schools operated ten months a year. Every student over the age of fifteen was given five hours of weapons training each week, forty weeks a year, and studied the fundamentals of guerrilla warfare. Military service was mandatory.

Physical education was rigid in the schools, from organized sports to PE. Everyone took part, including the teachers still young enough to take rough physical training. But it was done with an equality that is seldom seen in any other public or private schools.

For in sports, Ben stressed that games were just that—games, and no one should take them too seriously. They were not life-or-death matters, and in reality, accomplished very little. And anyone who would fight over the outcome of a game was tantamount to being a fool. He told the young people that games were meant to be fun, win or lose, and when, or if, he sensed games were becoming more important than scholastic efforts, he would put a stop to them, and the schools would have intramural activities only.

Although Ben had been a fine athlete in high school, he despised the jock mentality and would not tolerate it in the Tri-states. Coaches walked a narrow line in Tri-states’ schools.

The young people needed someone to look up to, and they found that person in Ben and his philosophy. After the war, the young were confused as to what was right and wrong—and what had happened to cause such a tragedy.

Ben, sitting on a desk in the classroom where he was conducting an impromptu question-and-answer session, laughed. “That is probably the most difficult question you could ask me, but I’ll try to give you an answer.

“Perspectives got all out of order, not only in America, but around the world. People demand freedom, and if they have to do it, they’ll fight for freedom taken from them—real or imagined.