Fire in the Ashes

“Why, you old bastard!” Ben laughed. “That’s why you’re going back.”

“Yeah. I should be ashamed of myself, I suppose; but I’m not. I’m damn proud.”

“You should be. Congratulations. Lamar, you sound as though you believe no matter what I accomplish here, it won’t last.”

The doctor fixed wise eyes on the revolutionary dreamer. “You know it won’t, Ben. It will work for us in the Tri-States, but not for the majority—you said it yourself, back in Tri-States. You’re a student of history, Ben, just as I am. You know that many—too many—Americans don’t give a flying piece of dog shit what’s good for the nation as a whole. We gathered the cream of the crop back in ‘89, friend; the best we could find to populate Tri-States.

“Out here,” the doctor waved his hand and snorted, “hell, you know the majority of Americans—even after all the horror we’ve been through—don’t care for anything except themselves or their own little greedy, grasping group or organization. Americans are notorious for wanting to run other people’s lives.

“No, Ben, for two or maybe three years, if you’re lucky, you’ll see all Americans being treated equal—for the first time in more than seventy-five years. Just think, Ben. Why, a citizen will be able to turn on the TV set and view any damn program he or she chooses to watch, without some so-called Christian organization screaming bloody murder because someone said ‘hell’ or ‘damn’ on the air.”

“The best censor in the world has always been a parent turning off the set or changing channels,” Ben muttered.

“Why of course it has!” Chase said. “Or simply telling the kids they can’t watch a certain program and then belting the hell out of them if they disobey. We know that, Ben. Thinking, rational adults have always known it. But there again, ol’ buddy, comes the truth: people simply cannot stand it if they’re not butting in someone else’s life.”

Ben laughed and shifted his butt in the chair, knowing Lamar was just warming up to his topic. He waited.

“Right now, Ben—this minute—you have done more in two weeks in office than anyone else in the more than a decade since the bombings. You just jerked the lazy folks off their asses and told them if they didn’t work they weren’t going to eat. That should have been done fifty years ago.”

“Yeah, but don’t think I haven’t got a bunch of civil rights groups down on my ass for doing it, either. And the ACLU is screaming that everything I’m doing is unconstitutional.”

Lamar muttered something very uncomplimentary under his breath and Ben laughed at him.

“It isn’t funny, Ben—not really. It’s tragic that some people—and I’m not singling out the aforementioned group—can’t see, won’t see, what is good for the entire nation just might step on the toes of a few.” He shook his white head and sighed. “Let’s say it, Ben. First, when are the twins due in?”

“Tomorrow. Ike tracked them down and is having them flown here.”

“Ben—have you thought that Jerre might be dead?”

“It’s crossed my mind.”

“But you reject it.”

“Yes. I don’t know why, but I just know she is alive. Hartline is holding her—why, I don’t know. Probably as a lever to use against me.”

Lamar looked at him. “The new Moral Majority is yelling about the president of the United States living in sin with a woman.”

Ben grinned. “I wonder how much they’d scream if I was living in sin with a man?”

“Get serious, Raines! Are you going to marry the lady?”

“No.” His answer came quickly.

“Do you love her?”

“No.” Just as quickly.

“She loves you?”

“I… don’t think so, Lamar.” Ben leaned forward, propping his elbows on the desk, his chin in his hands. It made him look like a schoolboy. “Can I talk to you man to man, Lamar?”

“Shore.”

“I’m fifty-four years old, Lamar. And I truly don’t believe I’ve ever experienced the emotion of love. God knows I’ve written about it many times; but as far as my actually having known it—no.”

“Great the fall thereof when it smites thee, Ben. I could have sworn you and Salina were in love.”

“I… felt something, Lamar. I really did. I spoke the words to her just before she died. But I lied.” He shook himself like a big shaggy dog might shake off excess water. He pushed the memories from him and shifted topics. “Did you know Dawn has a degree—a master’s degree—in science?”

“No. But it doesn’t surprise me. Why’d you bring it up?”

“Because I’m going to put her in charge of the newly formed EPA.”

Lamar had to say it. “Congress won’t like it.”

“I don’t give a shit what Congress likes or dislikes,” came the expected reply. “If they dislike too much, they can carry their ass home. You wait until next week, when I abolish about fifteen departments—then listen to them holler.”

“Will I be able to hear it in the Tri-States?”

“Hell, yes. And you won’t even have to turn up your hearing aid.”

Chase told the president of the United States where to shove that last remark.

* * *

“Do you love him, Dawn?” Rosita asked.

Dawn smiled at the feisty little Irish-Spanish lady. They shared an apartment in Richmond, Rosita electing not to accompany Colonel Ramos back to the southwest. She worked with Dawn.

“No,” Dawn finally answered the question. “No, I don’t, Rosita. I… have a warm feeling for Ben, as he does for me. But love? No.”

Her next question surprised Dawn. “Well, then who does he love?”

But, she mused silently, perhaps it isn’t so surprising after all. For haven’t you asked yourself that question many times? “Rosita, I don’t believe he has ever been in love.”

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

“I didn’t say in heat.”

And both women laughed. “Si,” 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?”