Fire in the Ashes

“Doctor Harris said she fought the drug,” Cecil said. “Seems she had some ... events in her past she was reluctant to bring under the light of memory, to use his words."

“Oh?” Ben looked at him.

“Nothing to do with us,” Cecil assured him. “Childhood matters—before the big war of ‘88."

“Abuse?” Ike asked.

“Yes—of the worst kind. When the world exploded, her mother was off on a trip to New York. Roanna was seventeen. Seems her father picked that moment to ... ah ... resume his molestation. Roanna killed him with his own .38. Doctor Harris said she broke down under the drugs and wept for a long time. Said he believes she finally got it out of her system—the memories and the guilt associated with the killing. That must be a terrible thing."

“She looks pretty damn tough to me,” Ike said. “And comes across that way, too. But maybe that's just some kind of act."

“Coping,” Ben said. “Defense coloration.” But his eyes were not on the NBC reporter, but on Dawn. He had seen quite a lot of her in the Penthouse spread on her. Now he would like to see more. Much more. Jerre was fading into the vault of memories. Ben was both happy and sad she had found her ex-boyfriend, and viewed his debut as a father with mixed feelings.

For a moment, he was reminded of his last moments with Salina...

* * * *

In the last days of the mopping up in the Tri-States, only a few thousand men and women had made it out of the Tri-States alive. It had taken the government thirty-five days to crush the dream of Ben Raines and his followers.

Now, in a mountainous, heavily wooded area, west and north of the Tri-States capital, Vista, HQ's company of Tri-States’ Rebels prepared to fight their last fight. Most of them had been together for years. The children with the company should have been gone and safe by now, but they'd been cut off and forced to return to the main body. It was now back to alpha, and omega was just around the corner, waiting for most of them.

There was a way out, but it was a long shot.

Ben sat talking with his adopted twins, Jack and Tina.

“Jack, you've got to look after Salina, now. I'm going to split the company and lead a diversion team. I think it's our only way out. I'll be all right, son; don't worry about me. I'm still an ol’ curly wolf with some tricks up my sleeve."

“Then you'll join us later?” Tina asked, tears running down her face.

“Sure. Count on it.” Ben shook Jack's hand and kissed Tina. “Go on, now, join up with Colonel Elliot. I want to talk with your mother."

Salina came to his side, slipping her hand in his. They were both grimy from gunsmoke and dirt and sweat. Ben thought she had never looked more beautiful than during her pregnancy; she had stood like a dusty Valkyrie by his side, firing an M-16 during the heaviest of fighting.

“We didn't have much time together, did we, Ben?"

“We have a lot of time left us, babe,” Ben replied gently.

She smiled; a sad smile. “Con the kids, General. Don't try to bullshit me."

“I wish we'd had more time,” Ben said ruefully. He kissed her, very gently, very tenderly, without passion or lust. A man kissing a woman good-bye.

Salina grasped at the moment. “Is there any chance at all?"

“Not much of one.” He leveled with her.

She tried a smile, then suddenly began to weep, softly, almost silently. “I love you, Ben Raines,” she said, kissing him. She smiled through the tears. “Even if you are a honky."

“And I love you, Salina.” He fought back his own tears to return her smile. “Now you step ‘n’ fetch yore ass on outta here, baby."

And together they laughed.

Ben helped her to her feet, gazed at her for a moment, then left her, walking away to join the group he was taking on diversion. Abruptly, without any warning, the silent forest erupted into blood and violence. A platoon of paratroopers, quiet and deadly, came at the Rebels; the peaceful woods turned into hand-to-hand combat.

With his old Thompson on full automatic, Ben burned a clip into the paratroopers, bringing down half a dozen. Salina screamed behind him, Ben spun in time to see her impaled on a bayonet. Her mouth opened and closed in silent agony; her hands slowly crawled snakelike down her stomach to clutch at the rifle barrel, to try to pull the hot pain from her stomach. The bayonet had driven through the unborn baby. Salina screamed as she began miscarrying.

“Jesus Christ!” the trooper yelled, as he saw what he had done. He tried to pull the blade from her belly. The blade was stuck. He pulled the trigger—reflex from hard training—and blew the blade free, sending half a dozen slugs into Salina, throwing her backward from the force.

Ben shot the trooper through the head with his .45 pistol, blowing half the man's head off. Salina collapsed to the ground.

Ben was at her side as his Rebels, offering no mercy, took the fight to the troopers. The Rebels took no prisoners.

Salina was fading quickly. She smiled a bloody smile and said, “Sorry ‘bout the baby, honey. But with our luck it would probably have been a koala bear."