Blood in the Ashes Read Online Free PDF

Rebels began setting up camp, first cleaning out a few stores and homes. Ben waited by the communications truck for Cecil’s call.
    When the radio crackled, Ben answered the first signal.
    â€œHow’s it going, Cec?”
    â€œWe’re in place and setting up,” Ben’s second in command replied, his voice popping from the speaker. “Now the rumor is you are suffering from a mental disorder; you need a long rest. Even gods get tired. So on and so forth.”
    â€œSo the power play is firming up?”
    â€œIt’s beginning to have some consistency, yes. But nothing of any real substance. Willette is very smooth and very intelligent, Ben. He’s shifted many of his people around. Has them in every unit except HQ’s Company and Dan’s LRRPs and Scouts. Dan and I have seen to that exclusion. Speaking of Dan, he’s plenty miffed at you. I settled him down by telling him why you did what you did, and that you tried to find him to tell him yourself.”
    â€œThat’s fine, Cec. How are our people being received by the mountain people?”
    â€œVery well. Captain Rayle says the incidents of terrorism and brutality by the gangs of thugs and slime along the borders—all borders surrounding us—have picked up dramatically during the past month. The country is really going to hell in a bucket, Ben. I don’t have to tell you to be careful out there in the boonies.”
    â€œI heard that, Cec. When do you want the next voice contact?”
    â€œDay after tomorrow. Noon. We’ll use the same frequency. Ben? You people keep your heads down out there.”
    â€œTen-four and out.”
    Ben turned to Gale. “You heard him. So don’t take it in your head to go out picking wildflowers. It’s dangerous out there.” He looked at the group of men and women gathered around the communications truck. “That goes for all of you. Travel in pairs and go armed at all times.”
    â€œYou trying to give me orders, Raines?” Gale stuck out her chin.
    â€œLet me put it another way; maybe I can get through to you that way. How would you like to get gang-shagged by a dozen men?”
    â€œYou just have to be the most tactful, literate person I have ever met, Raines.”
    â€œThank you. I’m cute, too,” Ben said with a grin.
    Gale choked back a reply.

THREE
    He had been christened Anthony Silvaro in New York City. That was in 1970. When he was fourteen years old, he left his parents’ very comfortable apartment and became a street punk. Sociologists and psychologists had nothing tangible to blame for Tony’s behavior. In this case they could not fall back on their universal catch-all and blame Tony’s behavior on society. Tony’s parents were both college educated, both professional, successful people who made a good living, loved their kids, and would not dream of anything even remotely close to child abuse. Their combined incomes placed them in the upper, upper middle class. Tony’s two brothers and one sister were nice, normal, well-behaved young people. They made good grades in school, usually obeyed their parents, and all had plans to attend college. Tony—as he had been a good-looking boy—turned into a strikingly handsome man. He had never suffered the “embarrassment” of pimples, had no physical infirmities, had never been “picked on” by his teachers or by anyone else, and was very athletic.
    Any streetwise cop knew Tony’s problem.
    Perhaps there is some chemical imbalance in the brain? the shrinks said, clutching at what few straws remained them.
    The streetwise cop’s reply was predictable. “Horseshit.”
    Dyslexia, then.
    â€œYou have to be joking.”
    The shrinks swelled up like a puff adder. They knew what was coming.
    â€œHe’s a punk. Period. He was born a punk. He will be a punk all his life. He will die a punk. He’s just no good.”
    Tony