He linked up with Dan and the long columns began their northward push.

Several hundred miles south, Villar monitored radio reports and shook his head in grudging admiration for Ben Raines. "He'll never be stopped," Villar said. "There is no force on earth that is large enough or determined enough to stop the man. He is the most ruthless person I have ever encountered. He is going to pull this nation out of the ashes of ruin and if he has to burn the son of a b.i.t.c.h down to accomplish that task, h.e.l.l do it."

"Where does that leave us?" Satan asked. The big outlaw biker was beginning to get it through his head that Ben Raines was really as awesome as legend stated.

Villar looked at the man. Satan was the ugliest human being he had ever seen. "Screwed, if we get in his way," he said flatly.

"Send it in code to all unit commanders," Ben said, after handing Corrie a note. "Take the word Alaska out of all vocabularies. I don't ever want to hear it on the air. We're facing too many unknowns to give our destination away.

Code name it North-star."

Ben was resting his people just north of Kelso. They had encountered no creeps on the push north along the Interstate. The Believers had fled across the river into Oregon and were, Ben guessed, making their way north, to cross back into Washington at Astoria, to spread out along the coast. He would deal with them later; for now, the taking of Seattle was paramount in his mind.

Ben walked through the sprawling camp, filled with men and women and their particular instruments of war.

"When does Seattle fall, General?" a woman called out, looking up from cleaning her M-16.

"Tomorrow," Ben told her. "So get your beauty rest, Rosie."

"Why?" she called to him. "I sure as h.e.l.l don't plan on kissing any of those creepie b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!"

Ben laughed and waved, walking on. He spent more than an hour prowling the encampment, stopping to exchange a few words whenever he could, with Corrie and her headset and Jersey with her M-16 constantly at his side. He joked and kidded with his Rebels as he walked the camp. He noticed a group of Scouts running for their Jeeps and turned to Corrie.

"What's going on, Corrie?"

"A little trouble over by the river, General," she said blandly. "Nothing much."

"What kind of trouble?"

"A small ambush by some outlaws, General. The Scouts put it down almost as quickly as it happened."

"Anybody hurt?"

"Two Rebels wounded. They're being taken to the field hospital now."

"Tell Coop to bring the wagon around. Let's go see what happened." "Yes, sir," she said glumly.

"What's the matter with you, Corrie? Aren't you feeling well?"

She sighed and Ben caught the glance that pa.s.sed between the two women.

Before he could ask what the h.e.l.l was going on, Dan ran up to him and faced Ben.

"Dan. What's the problem?"

"There is no way to say this except straight out, sir. You better get over to the field hospital.

It's Jerre. She caught two bad ones and Lamar says she's just hanging on."

Lamar Chase blocked Ben at the door to the field hospital. "She isn't conscious and she is never going to regain consciousness, Ben. She caught a bullet in the head and one in the back. The bullet went right through her head. The second bullet severed her spinal cord. They were both hollow-nosed slugs and did terrible damage to her brain, her right lung, and one kidney after it impacted and began spinning. I'm not sparing you, old friend. Because there is no hope."

"I'll sit with her," Ben said, his voice dull.

"I fixed up a private place for her, Ben.

And put a chair in there for you."

"Is she in pain?" "No." Lamar shook his head. "I ordered her heavily sedated. I wanted to make it as easy as I could for her."

"Leave us alone, Lamar."

"I understand, Ben."

Her head was wrapped in bandages and her skin was very dry to the touch. Ben looked at the chart hooked to the foot of her bed. He couldn't make any sense out of it and rehooked it. He sat down in the chair by her bed and took off his beret. He looked at the bottles hanging above her and the tubes from them running into her arms. He called for a nurse.

"Unhook them," he ordered.

"Sir! . . ."

"I said unhook them. You didn't know her. I did.

She would not want to live like this. Now either you unhook them, or I will."

Chase stepped into the room. "Remove them, Sergeant. I'll take full responsibility for it and sign the order myself."

When the tubes and bottles and needles were gone, and the room empty except for the two of them, Ben sat down and put his big hand over hers. He gently squeezed. No response. He touched her hair and gently touched one cheek.

He leaned back in the chair and waited. One hour and fifteen minutes later, Ben stepped out of the canva.s.s-walled room in the field hospital.

"She's dead" he told a nurse.

Dan was waiting outside the field hospital.

"I have the men who ambushed the pair of them, General."

"I didn't even think to ask, Dan. How is the person who was with her?"

"It was Thermopolis's wife, General. She received a wound in the shoulder. She's going to be fine.

They were over by the river with a group of people, picking flowers."

"The outlaws?"

"Six of them surrendered."

"Dispose of them."

"Yes, sir."

"Jerre wasn't especially religious. So well not have any elaborate service." He looked north, toward the Mount Saint Helens monument about ten miles away. The foothills were green with fresh growth, gentle appearing. "She liked the mountains and the sighing winds. Well bury her in those foothills. They look very peaceful. The service will be at dawn in the morning. Tell unit commanders well delay the push until noon."

"Yes, sir."

Ben pointed toward a copse of trees several thousand yards away.

"I'll see to that personally, sir."

Ben walked away. He had not shown any visible signs of emotion. But Dan knew that men like Ben Raines, and yes, Dan Gray, too, did not go in for much public display of emotion.

But Dan knew only too well that inside, Ben was torn apart and hurting.

Ike, Cecil, and West, along with Buddy and Tina flew in that evening for the service, landing at a strip just south of Kelso. Buddy and Tina went directly to their father's quarters.

They found him sitting on the front porch, holding a little Husky puppy in his lap. Ben smiled at his kids. "She found me this afternoon. I guess I've got a new pal."

Tina kissed him on the cheek and opened her small duffle bag, hauling out an unopened bottle of Glenlivet Scotch. "I found this about a week ago. How about a belt, Dad?"

"You know that was Jerre's favorite, don't you?"

"I know." Ben sighed. "Sure, why not? h.e.l.l, let's have a snort or two."

"What's the pup's name, Father?" Buddy asked while Tina was digging around for clean cups.

Ben laughed. "When she found me, she started making little funny noises. Sounded like she was trying to say smoot. So that's what I called her. Smoot."

The Scotch poured and their bellies warmed from the first sip, Tina said, "How are you doing, Dad?"

"I'm all right. I said good-bye this afternoon, sitting in a little grove of trees behind the field hospital. Really, Tina, I said good-bye a long time ago."

"Are you going to get drunk, Father?" Buddy asked.

"I've never been drunk, I don't think, so if you want company, I'll join you."

Ben smiled. "No, son. I'm going to go easy on the hooch. I don't know what my feelings are right now. All jumbled up, for sure. But neither of you has to worry. I'm not going off the deep end and do something stupid. Probably go to bed early. The funeral is at dawn tomorrow. I'm escorting the body out about an hour before then. I drove over this afternoon and found a peaceful place in the foothills.

The grave won't be marked." Both his kids looked at him at that.

"That isn't Jerre wrapped in that blanket at the hospital. Her soul is free now. And I hope she's happy."

When Tina looked at her father, he was crying soundlessly, tears running down his tanned face.

The wind sighed gently in the foothills around the Mount Saint Helens monument as one of the Rebel chaplains conducted the brief ceremony and Jerre was laid to rest. The final prayer was an echo in the wind and still no one made a move. Ben was conscious of eyes on him. The Rebels were not going to start covering the body until Ben made a move.

"It's all right," Ben said, then reached down and sprinkled a handful of dirt on the bodybag.

The grave was quickly filled in.

Ben looked at Dan. "We'll pull out at noon, Dan. Have the people ready to go."

"Yes, sir."

"Now leave me for a time."

Dan shooed the Rebels away, leaving Ben alone on the crest of the hill. He began gathering good-size rocks and placing them on the damp mound of dirt, working for more than an hour, covering the grave, insuring that no animal could dig through. Smoot played around his feet as he worked.

Satisfied that he had done all that could be done comwiththe materials at hand -Ben sat down close to the grave and memories; mental pictures that spanned a decade.

He recalled when he had first met her, back in Virginia just after the Great War. And he knew and accepted, finally, that he had fallen in love with her on that first day, many years back.

There had been many other women over the years, but always in the back of his mind, there was jerre. Untouchable, unreachable except for mental images that he would always carry with him.

Ben picked up Smoot and walked down the hill, away from eternal rest. The wind seemed to cry as he walked toward the column of Rebels waiting for him on the road. Ben did not look back at the solitary, unmarked grave.

Ben had changed, and everyone around him picked up on that fact immediately. How he had changed quickly surfaced as the columns headed north.

"Corrie, when we stop for a break this afternoon, go to communications and give Base Camp One a b.u.mp. Tell them to start printing flyers. The wording will be this: The forty-eight contigious states comprising the United States of America are now under the rule of the Rebels. All citizens must come forward to be photographed and fingerprinted for identification.

Noncompliance to this order will not be construed as a criminal act. Refusal to comply with this order will mean a complete denial of medical care and protection from the Rebel army and it will carry the implication that those refusing to do so wish to live outside the law. It will also mean that the children of those refusing to comply, when found, will be taken and placed in Rebel homes. The people have one year from this date to comply."

"The s.h.i.t's gonna hit the fan now," Jersey said.

"It's communistic, Ben," Thermopolis said.

"That's c.r.a.p and you know it, Therm," Ben told him.

"I'm not a dictator and you know that too."

They had bivouacked for the evening and the news had spread like unchecked fires throughout the camp. Ben had expected Thermopolis to confront him and the aging hippie had not disappointed him.

"Big government brought this nation down, Ben. Now you want to bring big government back."

"Horses.h.i.t, Therm! It's your nature to challenge rules and regulations; but you know d.a.m.n well civilization cannot flourish without rules. There is only two directions we can go: forward or backward. And I don't intend to go backward. I want a census count, and this is one way to do it."

"It's also a way to know where people are and to keep an eye on them."

"True. But I don't mean to do anything sinister with that knowledge."

"There are a lot of individuals out there, Ben."

He waved a hand.

"Sure. That's fine. I don't care if people want to go off and live a hermit's life. People can live as they d.a.m.n well please. Just as long as they obey the few laws we have on the books. Therm, we can't get anything done pulling in single harness, all going in different directions. We're either going to pull together to rebuild something good and lasting, or this country-the world-is doomed."

Thermopolis glared at him. "You've got a lot of politician in you, Ben."

"Yes. Ill agree with that. And being a politician can be either good or bad. I like to think of myself as somewhere in the middle." He noticed the surprised look on Thermopolis's face.

"h.e.l.l, I've got faults, Therm. I'm no saint. I tilt at windmills too. And so do you. But haven't things been so much more interesting since we started tilting at them together?"