Fire in the Ashes

Como turned to a sergeant major, who had stood impassively by throughout the exchange between the generals. “Sergeant Major, I want this man placed under arrest. If he attempts to resist, use whatever force is necessary to subdue him. Understood?” He gave the sergeant major Krigel's .45.

The sergeant major gripped General Krigel's arm and nodded. He didn't like the order just given him. He'd been a member of a LRRP team in ‘Nam—back when he was a young buck—and the idea of special troops fighting special troops didn't set well with him. American fighting American was wrong, no matter how you cut it.

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant major said, but was thinking: just let me get General Krigel out of this area and by God, we'll both link up with Raines's Rebels. Us, and a bunch of other men.

General Como turned to his aide, Captain Shaw. “Tell General Hazen he is now in command of the 82nd. Get his troopers dropped. Those that won't go, have them arrested. If they resist, shoot them. Tell General Cruger to get his Marines across those borders. Start it—right now!"

Shaw nodded his understanding, if not his agreement. The young captain was career military, and he had his orders, just as he was sure Raines's people had theirs.

“Yes, sir.” He walked away. “Right away, sir."

General Como blinked rapidly several times. He was very close to tears, and then he was crying, the tears running down his tanned cheeks. “Goddamn it,” he whispered. “What a fucking lash-up."

* * * *

“You all right, General?” an aide inquired.

Krigel shook his head to clear away the fog of memories. He brought himself to the present with a visible effort. Como had been killed on the tenth day of the fighting in the Tri-States; killed by a little girl with a .45-caliber pistol.

Ironic, Krigel thought. Como had spent several years in ‘Nam. No desk-soldier, Como spent as much time in the field with his men as possible. Hadn't gotten a scratch.

“Sir?” the aide persisted.

“What? Oh ... yes, Captain. I'm fine,” Krigel curved his mouth into a smile. “I was ... lost in memories for a time."

“The Tri-States, sir?"

“Yes. You were there, too, weren't you, Van?"

“Yes, sir. For eight days. I ... walked away from my unit on the morning of the ninth day. Couldn't take any more of it. That ... raping got to me."

“And the torture?"

“I wasn't a part of that, sir, and neither were any of my men. But I saw what was left of a woman after some ... guys got through with her. I don't think I'll ever forget it."

“No,” Krigel sealed the statement. “No, you won't, Van. I saw some of it in ‘Nam—done by Americans. You don't forget it—you just learn to live with it."

“Yes, sir. I was kinda hopin’ you'd say you eventually forget it."

“I wish,” the general said, accompanying that with a sigh. “Everything loaded, Van?"

“Yes, sir. Ready to roll."

“All right. We'll cut southwest through Ohio until we pick up Interstate 75 at Cincinnati. We'll stay on that most of the way into the mountains. That's where we'll link up with Ben."

“You know General Raines, sir?"

Several officers and enlisted personnel had gathered around.

“Yes, I do, Van. Not well, but I know him."

“What kind of man is he, sir?"

Krigel thought about that for a moment. “He was a Hell Hound in ‘Nam. Then he was a mercenary in Africa for a few years. But not of the stripe of Hartline; more a soldier of fortune type. Ben ... is a dreamer, a visionary, a revolutionary. He's a planner; a man who believes in as much freedom as possible for the law-abiding citizen. Ben Raines is ... quite a man."

* * * *

“Ben is a very complicated man,” Jerre said to Doctor Canale. “A lot of people ask me about him; I never know exactly what to say to them."

“You miss him, don't you?"

“I'd be lying if I said no."

“Well, you're going to have your hands full in a few months, Jerre. It's definitely twins."

“A boy and a girl,” Jerre said with a smile.

“I won't guess on that,” Canale grinned.

“That isn't a guess. I know."

The doctor did not argue. He had long ago given up arguing with pregnant women.

Jerre dressed and thanked the doctor. He winked at her and said to see him in a few weeks. A young man in his late twenties stood up when Jerre left the office, entering the waiting room.

He smiled at her. “How'd it go, Jerre?"

“I'm in great shape, Matt. Well,” she grinned, “at least my physical condition is good. I'm beginning to waddle like a duck."

“You're beautiful,” he said somberly.

“And you're nuts!” she laughed at him, taking his arm and walking outside with him. “Oh, Matt—I can't tell you how surprised I was to see you. And how glad. I heard you'd been killed in the last days of the invasion on Tri-States."

He helped her into an old VW bug. “It got pretty close and scary there for a time.” He got under the wheel, cranked the old bug, and pulled away from the curb. “But a few of us managed to slip across the border into Canada. Then we got orders to set up a base in Northern California. And ... here I am."

“No steady girl, Matt?"

“You know better, Jerre. You're the only girl I ever wanted."