Fire in the Ashes

That stumped her. For in the three weeks Ben had sat in the office of the president, he had accomplished quite a lot. Again, she fought to keep from smiling. Including, she had heard on the radio, hanging about fifty people for various crimes.

“Some people say he is,” the teenager persisted. “They said any man who's been shot up as bad as he's been and not die from it ... got to be a god."

So it's spreading, Jerre thought. And not just among Ben's own people. Maybe, she thought, there is a way out.

“All right, Lisa,” Jerre said, the lie building in her, leaving a bad taste on her tongue. “Yes. I'll level with you. Ben ... is different from other people.” Not a lie. “I've seen what happens to people who make him angry.” Sure have. “It's not very pleasant.” Sure isn't. “You don't want to make him mad."

The teenager backed up a step. “He ain't got no call to be mad at me."

“Not yet."

“What you mean, Jerre?"

Jerre fixed her gaze firmly on the girl. “You know exactly what I mean, Lisa. And you'd better not tell anyone about this conversation, either."

“I promise I won't, Miss Jerre,” Lisa whispered. “But what can I do to help?"

“To help whom?"

Lisa gulped. “You, I guess."

“That is something you'll have to decide for yourself, Lisa."

“I'll think on it, Miss Jerre. But ... something is troubling me. If Ben Raines is so powerful, how come you're still a prisoner here?"

“Haven't you ever heard about how gods move in mysterious ways?"

“My folks said there ain't no God in Heaven; and no Jesus Christ, neither. But I've heard that line you just said."

“Think about that, Lisa."

“Do I have to?"

“What do you think?"

“Seems like you're sure putting a lot on me, Miss Jerre?” Jerre's only reply was a cold look.

“Is there a shrine to Ben Raines, Miss Jerre?"

Jerre thought of Tri-States; of the twins. “In a way, yes, there is, Lisa. And it's beautiful."

The girl sucked in her breath. “I sure would like to see that someday."

Jerre took another step toward freedom. “You help me, Lisa, and I promise you you'll see it."

“I'd be scared!"

“No need to be."

“I'll think on it, Miss Jerre. And I won't tell nobody. Cross my heart."

Jerre wanted to weep at the teenager's ignorance. Instead, she put her hand on Lisa's arm. “I know I can count on you to do the right thing, Lisa.” She smiled at her. “We'll talk again. Come back anytime."

“I'll sure do it, Miss Jerre."

Jerre watched them leave the house. They waved at the guards stationed around the home. Jerre turned her back to the window, gazing into the fireplace, blazing with fire and warmth.

“I don't know what I've started here, Ben,” she murmured low. “It may mushroom all out of proportion. But please forgive me if it does. I just want to get out and go home. I want my babies!"

* * * *

Matt drove down the west side of the Mississippi River. He had skirted Dubuque, picked up Highway 67, and would cross into Illinois at the bridge at Savannah. He had a general idea where Hartline had made his headquarters. Matt stopped and looked at his map. He had drawn a crude circle in red.

The circle had Peoria almost in the dead center, the line running from Galesburg to Macomb to Springfield to Decatur, then northeast to Farmer City. Then it began a gentle curving north through Gibson City and Chatworth. At Chatworth, it curved northwest to Streator, running straight west for about fifty-five miles to just south of Kewanee. Then the line dipped southwest back to Galesburg.

On a much larger map, Matt had cut the area into quarters, each road in the quarter a different color. He would take them one at a time, just like pieces of a pie. He would find Jerre.

And he would kill Hartline.

* * * *

About twenty-five miles north of Terre Haute, Indiana, Ike and his team, made up of ex-SEALs, ex-Green Berets, ex-Marine Force Recon, and ex-Rangers, said their good-byes and good luck.

“You all know what to do without me goin’ over it again,” Ike told the men. “For the next few months Hartline is somewhere within a ninety-mile radius of Peoria. Word we got is come next spring he'll be movin’ up to Iowa to set up his HQ. We got to find him ‘fore then. You boys take care."

They were gone in teams of three. They would circle the area and on the third day would move in simultaneously. The men drove ragged pickup trucks; but the engines were perfectly tuned and the rubber was new ... They looked like movers and drifters, aimlessly wandering the countryside.

They were anything but.

* * * *

Captain Dan Gray halted his team at Quincy. “Killing Hartline would be gravy on the potatoes,” he told them. “Just remember our primary objective is getting Jerre out. I have not been in contact with General Raines, but I have a gut feeling he's sent others in ahead of us. So be careful; we don't want to mistake any of them for Hartline's men, or be mistaken ourselves for Hartline's men. Let's go, boys and girls. Good luck and God speed."

* * * *

And Jerre stared out at the snowfall in a small town just ten miles from Pekin, Illinois.

She waited.

Four