Chapter 14

I was smack dab in the middle of suturing a patient when I heard her voice. Megan. Damn it, I was trying to work here!

“What do you want, Megan?” I demanded, “I’m working here. Sorry, Beau. That’s my ex-wife.”

“Really? Damn! I don’t know what happened between you, but you’re already my hero for doing this and doubly so for having tapped THAT!” Staff Sergeant Beau Barnes chuckled as I finished him up.

Megan blushed at the obvious praise, “I just wanted you to know that there is a hearing about my fate coming up. I’m a civilian and not the only one. They haven’t decided what to do with us. Apparently, in most war zones, the women stay at home and away from the action. Not so much here. In any case, at least I have these hunky escorts, right?” she indicated the military police gendarmes that watched her every move.

“Do they know that you’re pregnant?” I asked her directly.

“Yes, they do. I hope for leniency for that reason, if nothing else. Especially since I don’t know who fathered the baby. It can’t be tied to any one Klucker after all, can it?” Megan commented with some sass right then.

“Well, good luck with that. We’ll see how many years I can add to your sentence, shall we?” I grinned evilly as Beau walked away, shaking his head.

“Please ... don’t. Please testify in my favor. I beg you! For my baby’s sake, if not mine! I don’t want to go to DC!” she whined now.

“Yet again, we have such opposing desires, no wonder that we didn’t last. You don’t want to go to DC, but I damn sure want to send you there,” I informed her very coldly indeed, “now, excuse me. I’ve got work to do.”

“Please ... Ralph!” Megan cried out as the guards dragged her off, having been patient with her long enough.

“Jesus, Ralph, you really know how to pick ‘em!” Aaron chuckled at that.

“Never piss off a hillbilly!” I shrugged.

“Yeah, you and Colonel Lomax both!” Aaron alluded to the fact that our glorious leader was himself a backwoodsman from the hills of West Virginia.

The fighting was now very intermittent, having long spells between outbreaks, and then lasting for hours at a time. The bulk of it was street-to-street, block by block, house-to-house. The Militia simply decided to grind the Klan down and literally smoke them out of one building after another. Captured child soldiers, and there were quite a few of them, were simply disarmed and sent home. They often went home with their mothers, also simply disarmed and dismissed.

Even some fathers, ones clearly civilian conscripts forcibly inducted into the Klan’s auxiliaries, were disarmed and emancipated. The Kluckers had clearly been desperate for manpower. The men, however, were required to swear not to take up arms against the Republican Front ever again. No one really had a problem agreeing to that, particularly given how disastrous things were under Klan rule.

“You know, they probably have more guns at home,” Dr. Singh noted at mess as we sat down with our hot Irish potato soup.

“Oh, certainly, but probably not as heavy of gear as those bad boys. As long as they don’t bear arms against us, who cares what they keep at home? Let ‘em keep their shotguns and .22 rifles for hunting and sports. Not to mention self-defense. There’s always a risk that as the Klan chain of command begins to unravel, unit discipline could be so bad that they might well turn to rape and plunder in desperation. And we can’t be everywhere, can we?” I pointed out to the man.

“But it is a risk, however great or small,” Singh persisted.

“Oh, no doubt. There’s always risk in life, right?” I expressed my fatalistic acceptance of danger.

“Well, that is certainly true enough,” Singh agreed as he dipped his bread into his soup.

“Good idea, that,” I followed suit, finding that the bread tasted much better with the broth, bacon, and potatoes added to it, “this is probably still somewhat new and taboo to you, eh?”