pointing straight at him, not more than seventy feet away. The detention barracks was actually an old jail, unused and unoccupied for many years. It had been condemned by the department of HHS back in ‘87, a new jail ordered built. The world war had erupted before the new jail even got off the blueprints.
Cecil looked around him and grimaced in disgust. “Pretty goddamn good jail, if you ask me,” he muttered.
Juan Solis wondered if his brother had gotten away in time. He thought so, since he had not seen Alvaro being jailed at any time since Juan had been incarcerated.
He wondered how many Rebels got away, and how many had been duped by Willette’s line of bullshit? And like the others in the long cell block, Juan wondered what would be his ultimate fate?
Mark Terry wondered what was happening to Peggy. He had asked, politely, if they could be housed together.
No.
“Anybody seen Peggy?” Mark called softly.
“Down at the far end, Mark,” Cecil’s voice reached him. “She’s all right. So far, no physical harm has come to any of us. How long that will continue is up for grabs.”
“Knock off that goddamn chatter!” a commanding voice shouted. “Talking is not permitted among you traitors.”
“That’s Jerry Bradford,” Cecil said, ignoring the command. “He is one I never would have thought would turn against us.”
“Did you hear what I said, Jefferys?” the voice yelled, anger in the tone. “What the hell’s the matter with you-are you deaf?”
Joining in the game, Col. Dan Gray called out from the other end of the cell block. “How many got away?”
“Quite a number of our combat troops,” Cecil answered the question in a loud voice. “Much more than enough to return and kick the treacherous asses
of these malcontents and dirty traitors.” He was hoping to get some response from Jerry Bradford.
Bradford ran down the corridor to stand in front of Cecil’s cell. He was red-faced and so angry he was trembling from rage. “You’re calling me a traitor? You? You’re nothing but a filthy coward, Jefferys. You took General Raines’ friendship and puked it back in his face. I hope you all get put against a wall and shot!”
Cecil stood calmly, listening to the Rebel vent his rage. He met the man’s gaze with calm and steady eyes. “Jerry, do you really believe, deep in your heart, that I would do anything to hurt General Raines?”
Jerry didn’t back off. “The facts don’t lie, Jefferys.”
“There are no facts, Jerry,” Cecil replied softly. “Listen to me.” He wanted to keep the man talking as long as possible. “All that you people have seen and heard was invented.” He paused, wanting to choose the next direction very carefully. “I don’t know by whom, Jerry. And that is the truth. But I wish you had come to me with the rumors and their source when you first heard them.”
Jerry Bradford was a man in his mid-thirties, a college grad. He was a man who held the rank of master sergeant in the Rebel army. A man who was an expert at managing the huge equipment list of the Rebel army. He was a man known for his level-headedness in any type of bad situation. And Cecil played hard on that quality.
Cecil pressed on, knowing the other prisoners were listening. “Jerry, you and the other people don’t follow me, or Ike, or Dan, or Juan, or Mark. You follow Ben. We all follow Ben. I wouldn’t dream of
asking any of you to allow me to step into Ben’s shoes. Me being black and all.”
Jerry’s intelligent face became confused. “Black? Hell, Cecil, what has that got to do with anything? None of us care what color a person is. You know that.”
“I hoped that’s the way it still stood, Jerry. All right, now tell me this: Any blacks in Willette’s immediate company?”
Jerry was thoughtful for a moment. “You mean those that came in here with him?”
“Right.”
Jerry sighed. “Well … now that you mention it, no.”
“That’s right. Any Hispanics, Jews, Orientals, Indians?”
Jerry stared at Cecil for a long moment. Then he abruptly slung his M-16 on his shoulder. “Never thought about it, Colonel Jefferys. But I have to say the answer is no.”
Cecil was back to “Colonel Jefferys” with Jerry. He let it slide. “Now see if you can answer this, Jerry: Where did this so-called evidence about me and the others come from?”
“Well … hmm.” Jerry thought about that. “I don’t really know, Colonel. To be honest about it. One of Captain Willette’s people always seemed to come up with it. And it seemed like we practically had to drag the information from whoever it was.” He met Cecil’s eyes. “Pretty slick, huh, Colonel? Yeah. One of Willette’s people. And it was always put so we could take it either way. And like I said, they were always reluctant to say anything bad about any of you. At first.”
“And then once they had you hooked, they played you all like a big bass?”
Jerry sighed heavily. “Yeah, they sure did, Colonel.”
“Beginning to see some light at the end of the tunnel, Jerry?”
“Yes, sir. I sure am. And I don’t like what’s at the end of that tunnel.” He reached for the keys on his belt. Cecil’s voice stopped the hand movement.
“No, Jerry.”
“Sir?”
“I think this place is not only the best place for us in terms of you finding out more truth for yourself but probably the safest place for the time being. Think about it.”
After a moment, Jerry nodded his head. “Right, Colonel. I see. Accidents might happen on the outside. Yeah. OK. I’ll make sure one of the regular Rebels is on duty at all times. Goddamn it, Colonel, feel like the world’s prize idiot. We … none of us had the forethought to question any of what was said. It just … it was like a chain reaction, I guess is the best way to put it. Colonel,” he said, a worried look on his face, “why did we want so badly to believe it about the general and about all of you?”
“Number of reasons, Jerry. We’re all very tired. We’ve just come through one hell of a summer with the Russian and the battles fought.* And I’m just now beginning to realize how smooth-tongued Willette and his people can be. And, don’t take this the wrong way, Jerry: We are all just too damned dependent on Ben. And those are his words, Jerry. I’ve heard him say them many times. And, Jerry, those of us with any type of advanced education are now in the very definite minority. A mob’s mentality can be very infectious even to an educated person. There are many more reasons, Jerry. That’s just the high points.”
Jerry clutched at any straw to help ease his mind. “Was it… was it hypnosis, Colonel?”
“No, Jerry. It was mob hysteria and too much love for Ben Raines.”
He squared his shoulders. “Yes, sir. You’re right. And it was pure stupidity on the part of people who should have known better. And I’m at the top of that list. I’ll pick the ones I talk to very carefully, Colonel,” he promised. Jerry removed his .45 pistol from leather and handed it and a spare clip through the bars. “You keep this well- hidden, Colonel. When I come back on guard duty, I’ll bring a couple more guns until I can get you all armed.”
“Jerry?” Dan called.
“Sir?”
“Some C-4 and detonators, too, please.”
Jerry laughed. “You betcha, Colonel. Consider it done.”
Cecil said, “Be very careful who you discuss this with, Jerry. Very careful.”
“Don’t you worry about that, Colonel,” Jerry assured him. “That sucking sound you heard a few minutes ago was me, pulling my stupid head out of my ass.”
Cecil laughed, feeling, for the first time in hours, a slight glimmer of hope. “I have to say this, Jerry.
Brace yourself for Ben’s taking off when all this is over.”
“We never mentioned it aloud, Colonel, but that was part of it, too-among us older troops. We put too much on the man, didn’t we?”
“Yes. Ben is his own man, Jerry. None of us had any right to foist something on him he really didn’t want. Took me a long time to reach that decision, but I finally made it.”
“Who will lead us, sir?”
