Fire in the Ashes

“Rebecca!” Victor shouted, lunging for her. Strong hands grabbed him, halting him in mid-flight. “You son of a bitch!” he cursed Hartline.

The mercenary laughed. “Tie him into that chair over there,” he pointed. “Hands behind the back, ankles to the legs."

Hartline looked at the young woman. Something evil touched his eyes. “Now, my dear, you may disrobe."

“No, I won't,” she said defiantly, holding her chin high.

Hartline chuckled. “Oh, I think you shall, Rebecca, dear. Yes, indeed."

Hartline picked up a small cattle prod and adjusted the level of voltage. He walked to Victor's side. He lifted his eyes to the woman. “Take off your clothes."

“No,” she whispered.

Hartline touched the cattle prod to Victor's bare arm and activated it. The young man jerked in the chair and yelled in pain.

“Don't do it, sis! I can stand it."

Hartline laughed and touched the prod to Victor's penis. The young man screamed in agony, his jerking toppling over the chair.

“All right,” Rebecca said. “Don't hurt him anymore. I'll do what you say."

“That's a dear girl,” the mercenary smiled.

As Rebecca disrobed, the mercenary walked in circles around her, commenting on her figure: the slender shapeliness of her legs as she peeled off her jeans; the firmness of her breasts; the jutting nipples; and finally the mat of pubic hair.

Hartline smiled as some of the men whistled. “You see, boys. There are other benefits to be reaped from all this. Or should I say raped?"

The roomful of men laughed.

Hartline ran his hands over the girl's flesh, lingering between her legs. He looked over at Victor, now righted in his chair. “The name of your cell leader, young man, for I assure you, game time is all over."

“Don't tell him, Victor!” Rebecca called. “Our lives mean nothing. We can stand it; we're not worth anything to this beast dead. He won't kill us."

Hartline smiled. “How astute of you, my dear. Quite right. But sometimes death is preferable to living?"

She smiled at him.

“You doubt it? Oh, my dear—how naive you are. I have seen human beings reduced to madmen, every inch of skin stripped from them—and still they lived, praying to die. I have seen ... ah ... I do so hate to be crude ... various objects forced into a man's anus; have you ever seen what happens to a man when a thin, hollow piece of glass is inserted into the penis and then the penis is tapped lightly with a club? The pain is excruciating—so I'm told. But we don't need to go into all that sordid type of truth-seeking, do we, dear?"

She spat in his face.

“Oh, my dear,” Hartline said, wiping the spittle from his cheeks. “Now you've made me angry.” He looked at Victor. “One more time, Vic-baby: the name of your cell leader."

Victor shook his head.

Hartline looked back at the young woman.

“I'll never tell you,” she said.

Hartline leaned his head down and kissed one nipple, running his tongue around the nipple, thoroughly wetting it. He straightened up and placed the cattle prod on Rebecca's breast. “One of you will,” he said.

* * * *

“What are we to do?” Senator Carson asked President Addison. “This nation cannot endure a civil war."

“I don't know, Bill,” Aston said, drumming his fingertips on his desk. “It's a personal thing between Cody and Raines. Cody's brother was killed in Tri-States. How much support do I really have, Bill?"

The old senator sighed. He had been in the Senate longer than any man still alive: since 1960, sliding in on Jack Kennedy's bandwagon. He had seen much, this old aging liberal. Back during the bombings, and immediately thereafter, he had been presumed dead. But he had been vacationing in the mountains of North Carolina when the rumors of war had first surfaced. He had elected not to return to Washington when he learned of the military's taking control of the nation just hours before the nuclear and germ warfare blew the world apart.

“Damn little,” Carson finally replied. “I have never, in all my years serving the people, seen such a drastic shift in the feelings of my colleagues. I ... can't get through to them that we cannot—must not — allow this to erupt into a civil war. They just won't listen."

“I'll give you odds Weston Lowry has something to do with it."

“No takers, Aston. I see his fine devious hand all over this. I warned you, Aston; I urged you not to pick that bastard."

Aston shrugged. “I had to do something to placate the law-and-order boys,” he explained. “Hell, Bill, you know that.” He met the older man's level gaze. “They really have the votes—in both houses?"

“Yes."

“It's going to be bloody and awful."

“Yes."

“Who is Sam Hartline?"

* * * *

“Sam Hartline is a goddamned psychopath,” Cecil Jefferys told Ike and Ben. “And one hardline nigger-hater. He was with Jeb Fargo outside Chicago back in ‘88 and ‘89."

* * * *

The day before Ben first met Cecil and Salina, he had visited his brother in a suburb of Chicago. What he had seen shocked and appalled him. Ben could not believe the change in his older brother.