Out of the Ashes

“My first inclination would be to kill him. But that would be wrong for several reasons. Our laws—back when things were normal, as you put it—were far too lenient on most criminals, especially the drunk driver involved in fatal accidents. So how can you blame the guy for drinking when the penalty for getting caught really, in many states, almost encouraged the drunk driver? No, education and stiff laws are the answer, and then gradually, over a period of years, as people become accustomed to those laws, and a generation grows with them, that's when you get tough with those who flaunt the law. Not abruptly. Not unless everybody in that state, and I don't mean fifty-one percent of the population, I mean about ninety percent of the population, agrees with those harsh laws. This fifty-one/forty-nine plurality is now and always has been, to my way of thinking, a crock of shit.”

“How about those people, say, to use your figures, that ten percent—what happens to them? Those who disagree with it?”

“They can live with it, or leave.”

“That's hard, Ben.”

“Yes.”

April was silent for several miles; miles that passed in silence, with only the humming of the tires on concrete and the rush of wind.

“All this...” She waved her hand, indicating the emptiness of highway, the silence of the land all around them. “All this doesn't really bother you, does it? I get the impression you're looking forward to rebuilding.”

Ben thought about that question. “I guess I am looking forward to the rebuilding, April. As to it bothering me? No, I guess it really doesn't. Not to the extent it should, I suppose.”

“Why?” She glanced at him. “You don't believe all this is God's will, or something hokey like that, do you?”

“Hokey? Well, yes. I have to admit I've wondered about the hand of God in all this. Haven't you?”

“I don't believe in God,” she said flatly. “I think it's a myth. I think when you're dead, you're dead. And that's it.”

“That is certainly your right.”

“Not going to give me a lecture about it?”

“Not me. Believe what you want to believe. That is your right.”

“How about prayer in public school?”

He laughed out loud. “You're really hitting all bases, aren't you? All right, April. Fine, for those who want to pray. Those that don't could whistle ‘Dixie’ if they so desired.”

“And take a lot of abuse and bullshit from the kids and the teachers, too, huh?”

“Root cause, honey.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Root cause. Ignorance, prejudice, thoughtlessness, all those things will never be stamped out unless and until we attack the root cause. And that's in the home.”

“Total state control, Ben? That's just a bit Orwellian, don't you think?”

“Yes, it is. But if our present method of education isn't, or wasn't, eradicating the inequities, what would you suggest as the course of action?”

“What inequities? Give me an example.”

“One kid wants to play sports, another kid wants to study music: the piano, the violin. Each should be able to do as he or she wishes without being ridiculed for making a particular choice. But it didn't work that way. The kid who chooses to pursue a life of music is often—ninety-nine percent of the time—subjected to taunts and jeers and ridicule for his choice, while the kid who wants to play sports is adored and given honors. The sadness of it, April, is this: the kids who ridicule and jeer have to have learned it at home; their parents have to be condoning it. Perhaps not knowingly, but still condoning it. If they do no more than refuse to broaden intellectual horizons, they're condoning and passing their ignorance on to their kids.”

“Ben ... do you want a perfect society?”

“No,” he said. “Just a fair one.”

And he thought of the mountains. And of the Rebels. Waiting. Something stirred deep within him.

April looked at the man; took in his lean ruggedness. How fast he was, to react to a deadly situation. He had a ... dangerous look about him. She said, “You look the type to spend Sunday afternoons in front of the TV, watching football.”

“I did, for years,” Ben admitted. “Still think it's a great sport. Played it in high school. But it's gotten—had—out of hand. I began to open my eyes and my mind and to look and listen to all that was happening around me; with my friends and others; what they were teaching their children. I was at a friend's house one evening, watching Monday-night football. I heard my friend tell his boys that anyone who didn't play sports was a sissy and probably a queer. I thought, what a terrible thing to tell a child, and told my friend so—in front of his kids. That man hasn't spoken to me since.”

“And never will again,” April reminded him.

Ben glanced at her. “I don't consider his death any great loss to the world.”

THIRTEEN

Ben had pulled off the interstate just a few miles south of Fort Valley and headed east. “Just wandering,” he told April. “We're not on any timetable.”