Fire in the Ashes

night General Raines’s own brother tried to kill him back in Tri-States. He said Carl Raines emptied an M-16 into the general. But it didn’t kill him. The general just walked away from it.”

“My God!” another young Rebel spoke.

“That’s what I think he is,” Becky spoke the words that made legends. “A god.”

* * *

How hated Ben’s system of government was did not come home to the people of Tri-States until late fall of the first year. Ben had stepped outside of his home for a breath of the cold, clean air of night. Juno, the big malamute, was with him, and together they walked from the house around to the front. When Juno growled, Ben went into a crouch, and that saved his life. Automatic-weapon fire spider-webbed the windshield of his pickup truck, the slugs hitting and ricocheting off the metal, sparking the night. Ben jerked open the door, punched open the glove box, and grabbed a pistol. He fired at a dark shape running across the yard, then at another. Both went down, screaming in pain.

A man stepped from the shadows of the house and opened fire just as Ben hit the ground. Lights were popping on all over the street, men with rifles in their hands appearing on the lawns.

Ben felt a slug slam into his hip, knocking him to one side, spinning him around, the lead traveling down his leg, exiting just above his knee. He pulled himself to one knee and leveled the 9mm, triggering off three rounds into the dark form by the side of his house. The man went down, the rifle dropping from his hands.

Ben pulled himself up, his leg and hip throbbing from the shock of the wounds. He leaned against the truck just as help reached him.

“Get the medics!” a man shouted. “Governor’s been shot.”

“Help me over to that man,” Ben said. “He looks familiar.”

Standing over the fallen would-be assassin, Ben saw where his shots had gone: two in the stomach, one in the chest. The man was splattered with blood and dying. He coughed and spat at Ben.

“Goddamned nigger-lovin’ scum,” he said. He closed his eyes, shivered in the convulsions of pain; then died.

Ben stood for a time, leaning against the side of the house. Salina came to him, putting her arms around him as the wailing of ambulances drew louder. “Do you know him, Ben?” she asked.

“I used to,” Ben’s reply was sad. “He was my brother.”

* * *

Rosita had no such fear of the man. She knew he was quite a man, but still a man. She marched up to his table and sat down after drawing a mug of coffee from the urn.

Ben smiled at her. Something about this tough-acting very pretty young woman appealed to him. Her green Irish eyes searched his face.

“Something on your mind, Rosita?”

'Quizas.'

“My Spanish is nil, Rosita.”

“Maybe.”

“So speak.”

“Is that a command from on high?”

Ben laughed at her. “You remember a comedian named Rodney Dangerfield, Rosita?”

“No.”

“Then you won’t understand the joke. Come on, what’s on your mind?”

“Forget it. It’s none of my business.”

“Let’s have it, short-stuff.”

Her green eyes flashed. Danger or mischief was up to the receiver. “Dynamite comes in small packages, General.”

“I’m sure. But I don’t think that’s what you came over here to say.”

“The twins.”

“What about them?”

“We’ve been on the road for four days. You haven’t seen them one time.”

“You’re right, it’s none of your business. But… I don’t want to get too close to them. They will be going with their mother as soon as we reach home. She’s found herself a nice young man and that is how it should be. I don’t want to become attached and have to give them up.”

“Esta bien. That answers that. I don’t have to agree with it, but you’re right, it’s none of my business.” She wanted to tell him how many of his men and women felt about him—that she thought it a dangerous way of looking at the man. But she held her tongue about that. “Dawn cares for you,” she blurted.

“We’ve run our course. I think she knows that.” Ben signaled for more coffee and they were silent until the mugs were refilled.

With her eyes downcast, looking at the coffee mug, Rosita said, “The Spanish in me says no man should be without a woman.”

Ben said nothing, but she felt his eyes lingering on her.

“No big deal about it, General. No strings and no talk of forever—enamorado. And don’t get the idea I throw myself at every man that comes along.”

“I don’t feel that at all.”

“I… have high goals. Strutting peacocks and paper tigers do not impress me. But the nights are lonely.”

“I will agree with that. Rosita? I am damn near old enough to be your grandfather.”

Now her eyes did sparkle with mischief. “Afraid of me, General? Think I’m too much for you to handle?”

Ben opened his mouth to reply but was cut silent by a shout from the lobby.

“We got company, General. Looks like a bunch of thugs and hoods. I count half a dozen vans; ‘bout ten pickup trucks; half a dozen cars. They look to be all full.”

“Get troops in position, roof top and second floor,” Ben spoke calmly. He had not moved from his chair. “Ring the area—you all know the drill. Do it quickly.”

Rosita appraised him with cool green eyes. “Don’t you ever get excited, General?”

Ben picked up his Thompson and stood up. “Ask me that about nine o’clock tonight, short-stuff.”

She tossed her head. “I might do that.”

Ben chuckled and walked out of the dining room.

“Keep them outside the burn area,” Ben ordered his people. “If they try to cross it, shoot them.”

“Yes, sir,” Captain Seymour said.

“That’s Ben Raines,” the words drifted to Ben as he stood on the concrete parking area, facing the large crowd of dirty men and women. Several of them were scratching their legs and ankles.

But Ben knew any flea that attempted to cross the area that was first burned, then sprayed, would not make it. The area had been sprayed with a deadly flea-killer, laid down almost full-strength.

“So what?” a man said. He appeared to be the leader of the group.

The first man shrugged. “I just thought I’d tell you.”

“So you told me. Now shut up.” He looked at Ben, standing calmly across the charred area. “Mr. President without a country to preside over. How about us coming over and having some chow with you folks?”

“Not a chance,” Ben said.

“We might decide to come over anyways.”

“Your choice. We’ll give you a nice burial, that I can promise.”

“We ain’t made no hostile moves, Raines.”

“Nor have we. You and your people move on. Find another motel. You leave us alone, we leave you alone. That’s the best deal I’ll make.”

The man looked at the armed Rebels that stood with weapons at the ready. He swung his gaze back to Ben. “Looks like to me you got ‘bout as many cunts in your outfit as you have swingin’ dicks. I never seen a broad yet that knew anything about weapons. I think we got you outgunned.”

“Than that makes you a damn fool.”

“Nobody calls me that!”

“I just did,” Ben’s words were softly spoken, but with enough force to carry across the fifty feet of burned