“Rangers haven’t been paid regular for the last year, and the job hasn’t gotten any easier,” explained Stevenson. “They’re losing control over the border, control over themselves. Can’t blame them for taking it out on the citizens.”

“You mean the citizens they’re sworn to protect?” said Rakkim.

“Yup. That would be the very ones.”

Rakkim watched as the Rangers tipped their hats at a couple of teenage girls in short shorts.

“You stay away from them two,” said Stevenson. “Don’t even make eye contact.”

“I don’t want any trouble,” said Rakkim.

Stevenson squinted at him. “I’m not so sure of that anymore.”

Rakkim felt Stevenson watching him, but he didn’t turn away from the siege, the flames from the burning church reflected in his eyes. “What is it?”

“You,” said Stevenson. “There’s something…I don’t know. You’re different.”

Rakkim smiled. “I’m married. I’m a father. It takes a toll.”

“That’s not it.” Stevenson hesitated. “Before, when I asked you why you come here, I had the thought…I thought maybe you come here to kill me.”

“What? Why…why would you think that?”

“I’m getting old. All kinds of foolish ideas been running through my head lately…Your wife…it’s good between you?”

“Good enough.”

“Good enough is plenty good.” Stevenson shoved his hands in his pockets. “I still think about Esther…wonder about the life we might have had. All these years, you’d think it would fade, but I still wake up some nights and reach for her.” He cleared his throat. “You hold Sarah close when you get home. Put your arms around her and don’t let go.”

“I’ll do that.”

Stevenson watched Leo play with the toy tank he had modified, the tank spinning on one end and barking like a dog. “I could make a million dollars with this kid.”

“He’s already sold,” said Rakkim. “This fellah in Nashville-”

“Don’t lie to me,” said Stevenson. “You don’t need the practice and I find it insulting. I seem like a patriot to you? My country right or wrong?” He spit over the side of the building. Watched it fall. “The Belt is like a sack of porcupines, too busy jabbing and poking each other to find their way to daylight. That republic of yours is just as bad. Nothing’s gone right since the old regime decided to split the sheets.” The light from the fire exposed every seam in his face. “So what are you really doing back here?”

“I’m not sure,” said Rakkim. “They tell me there’s a war on the way, a new war, and maybe I can stop it, but…”

“If there’s a war coming, no one can stop it. Leave it to you to try, though.”

“Don’t make me into something I’m not. Let’s just say I missed the rodeo.”

“What’s going on?” Leo pointed at the armored bulldozers punching holes through the outer wall of the compound. A heavy truck followed, sent white smoke streaming into the structure through the holes. “Is that real tear gas?”

“Just smoke,” said Stevenson. “During the actual raid the Feds pumped CS gas into the living areas. Stings much worse than tear gas. Toxic to children too.”

Rakkim couldn’t take his eyes off the compound. It was just a reenactment, and there was more than enough blame to go around, but still…

“But…” Leo turned from one to the other. “But weren’t there children inside?”

“Twenty-one of them,” said Stevenson. “I guess the government thought it was kind of academic, though, since they all burned up in the fire anyway.”

Rakkim watched as wisps of smoke swirled in the wind. Sarah said it had never been proven how the fire started; the only thing certain was the government ordering in the tanks and all those dead kids. No wonder folks in the Belt flocked here. To them, Mount Carmel was a clear sign that the United States had turned its back on God, and God had returned the favor by turning his back on the USA. Maybe, but Rakkim wasn’t sure if God took things all that personally.

One of the tanks circled around to the rear of the compound, flattening a storage shed.

The compound exploded in a fireball of orange light, windows blown out from the force of the detonation.

“I was just a teenager when the old regime fell,” said Stevenson as burning debris drifted down, “and I sure as shit don’t like what replaced it, but there’s times…” He spit over the side again. “Makes a man wonder how something that started out so good could have rotted out like an old pumpkin. Government turning on its own people, murdering kids…” He pulled out an auto-pistol and emptied the clip, his face contorted as he howled at the sky.

People in the crowd answered the shots, dozens of rounds fired off into the sky, the gunshots punctuated by rebel yells and shouts of “Amen!” Leo cowered along the edge of the roof, hands over his head, as though that would protect him from gravity. Rakkim stood tall as the crowd blazed away, tried to imagine the sound of gunfire in any city in the Islamic Republic and couldn’t. Just owning a gun was a capital offense, and even the police almost never used their sidearms. Colarusso had been a cop almost thirty years and had never fired his weapon other than on the pistol range. The National Guardsmen in the crowd opened up now, their rifles on full auto, aiming at the stars. Good luck.

“Koresh should have let the Feds arrest him,” said Rakkim, the flames reflected in his eyes. “Should have turned the other cheek. If Koresh was the second coming of Christ, that’s what he was supposed to be all about, right?”

“First time around, Jesus turned the other cheek. You see where that got him. Next time he’s coming as the warrior Christ leading the troops at Armageddon. That’s why Koresh named this place Mount Carmel-’cause the Bible says that’s where the battle takes place. Christ and his people going toe to toe with the satanic hordes.”

Rakkim scanned the crowd. “Who knew you could buy snow cones at Armageddon?”

“It’s not funny,” said Stevenson, his gnarly face livid in the rockets’ red glare.

The tanks retreated as the flames leapt higher with a whoooosh; the steeple upended, falling through the second story. The crowd, which had been restless during the tank assault, almost eager to see the climax of the reenactment, stepped back from the railing and fell silent. The three nuns crossed themselves, bowed their heads.

Stevenson turned away. “I seen this every week for the last ten years…you think I’d be used to it by now. Tomorrow morning they’ll start building it all over again.” He shook his head, his voice hoarse. “Damn ancient history, that’s all it is.”

Leo stood beside Rakkim, the two of them watching the compound until there was only ashes and smoldering embers.

The crowd dispersed slowly toward the parking lots, people pushing baby carriages along the walkways. A doll fell off a baby carriage as the father pushed past the three nuns, and the young nun Rakkim had made eye contact with earlier bent gracefully down and picked it up. Returned it to the father. The nuns kept up with the crowd, and Rakkim noticed the two Rangers studying them as they passed, then start after them.

Stevenson put a hand on Rakkim’s shoulder. “Don’t get carried away.”

Rakkim watched the two Rangers flank the young nun. The black one pulled away her head scarf, twirled it around a finger. The white one grab-assed her while she slapped at his hands. The Rangers laughed as she fled, weeping, after the other nuns.

“Those two are even more out of control than usual,” said Stevenson. “Christians get along well enough, but there’s still plenty of good ol’ boys don’t like Catholics. Not near as much as they hate your people, but some folks never forgave the pope for kowtowing to the Muslims the way he did. I understand the situation, two popes assassinated inside of a year, but if the pope can’t stand up for what he believes in, who can?”

“What those two assholes did, that had nothing to do with religion,” said Rakkim.