by Jordan Ervin
“But you said you had your theories,” Lukas replied. “Where do you think he might be?”
“My opinion, it’s somewhere tropical and close to the United States; in all probability, Haiti or Cuba.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because I know what to look for to uncover the information others don’t want you to know,” she replied. “For example, I remember him once referring to his home on the island, though it was in passing. He also had a deeper than usual tan on the occasions he showed up after being tucked away at his retreat. Sigmund also made it no secret to me that he intended to have the United States as his crown jewel when the Patriarchs completed the Purge. If someone is watching a trophy, waiting for the time to take it, I don’t think they’d be watching from too far away.”
“An occasional tan and the one time mention of an island is hardly enough to establish his location,” Maria said dryly.
“Yes, but as I said, he hungered for America. I know him and I know he sees this land as a prize that was stolen from him. Now whoever is in the Gulf of Mexico is taking careful precautions to hide their actions. The Graystone devices are not only blanketing the Gulf States. They’re also concealing the Caribbean islands. With the amount of energy and resources it takes to deploy one of those machines, I couldn’t imagine moving one to a country like Haiti for no reason. With the information I have at my disposal, I can only come to the conclusion that his Promised Land was off the coast of America in the Caribbean Sea. I know that’s speculation, but—”
“You’re here for your speculation,” Lukas said quickly. “In fact, I would very much like it if you continued to speculate and report to me daily. The Patriarchs are a den of vipers, ready to leave their hole and strike those who mean to crush them. Despite the blow we struck when we seized their eastern front, they are powerful and united behind Sigmund. We cannot hope to win this war quickly by focusing our resources on the smaller serpents such as Texas and those few pockets of rebellion.”
“And how do you propose we do that?” Jacob asked.
Lukas leaned forward, looking at the blank region on the map before looking up at the others. “We seek Sigmund out and kill the king cobra himself.”
“With all due respect, my Sovereign,” General Kane began, “I believe we should fortify your borders for the next few months, resupply and expand your military, and wait while the Patriarchs and Texas wear themselves down.”
“General Kane is right,” Rupert said. “As the czar in charge of the Reconstruction Initiative, I don’t think what you wish is possible. Despite our rapidly growing resources, I am not sure we can begin the reconstruction that you wish, defend our borders, and fight an offensive war all at the same time. That’s not to mention your previous order for us to continue hunting down those who escaped DC.”
“What about the FODs?” Lukas asked. “Use them to locate all who escaped.”
“Sir, the FODs represented an America that had fallen,” General Kane said. “They became open target practice for those who wanted to express their frustration. Not to mention every man who wanted his own high-tech drone downed one of those and began ripping its guts out.”
“So you’re telling me the tens of thousands of drones that observed the east coast have been destroyed?”
“Well, no,” General Kane said. “We have some, maybe a thousand. Maybe less.”
“So recall every FOD you have contact with,” Lukas said. “Even a few hundred will be able to deliver messages to the towns east of the Tennessee valley. In the meantime, part of your military restructuring will include the creation of a force designed specifically to hunt down and kill Sigmund. That I insist.”
“Very well,” General Kane replied. “I am sure we can manage that. Now what messages would you have the FODs deliver?”
“Those who fled DC are scared and running for their lives,” Lukas said. “They will be looking for shelter. At the same time, those smaller towns caught between our borders, Texas, and the Patriarchs to the south will be looking for a way to fall into our good graces. I say we use that to our advantage. Have the FODs travel from one town to another, requesting they detain any military personnel or individuals fleeing westward. We can then sift through those they capture and reward them for every fugitive they deliver. Have the message also request their cooperation in reporting large caches of food and weapons. There are likely ten thousand rednecks who have spent the better part of their life stocking up for a collapse, but a few of those sites might have been resupply depots for these alleged Sons of Liberty. We have food, synthetic drugs, and real security. With a few drones and a few teams of men, we can convince a thousand towns to hunt our enemies down for us.”
“You think someone who finds a warehouse full of weapons will turn it over willingly?”
“With the right leverage, yes,” Lukas replied. “For those who uncover larger collections that lead to the capture of rebel soldiers—say anything over fifty weapons—promise them drugs and free housing on the East Coast. We have more than enough vacant homes to pass around. We can send in small teams to extract those who report it, confiscate the weapons, and ambush whoever stashed it when they arrive.”
“That’s all fine, but what about the military bases nearby?” General Kane asked. “They might not be as sympathetic as a struggling town. Some might wish to join you, though I have my suspicions that most will choose to stand against you. There is no way of telling who might turn on our men or drones as soon as we’re within firing distance.”
“We take no chances,” Lukas said coldly, looking down at the map. “We destroy them, every last base within our reach. No military bases nearby means no military threat. We can move in fast and bomb them with the retrofitted MIGs we have left or use the slow bombers Jacob used to take out Fort Bragg. After that, we send in small strike teams a few days later to make sure all base personnel has been dispatched.”
“We’ll likely lose most of our bombers and fighters,” General Kane replied. “We’re bound to face some anti-air at a few of the instillations.”
“A price I’m willing to pay,” Lukas said. “Weapons we can afford to lose if it means securing our borders.”
“Which I must admit will be an easier task if we quickly pacify all resistance,” the General replied. “In fact, a border guard was part of the restructuring I had planned. I think you’ll find your ideas line up very well with mine. We can save our fleet of thousands of Yellow Jackets for the war with the Patriarchs while we train soldiers from the men who have come to the Imperium. By the time those men are ready, we could have begun to replenish whatever we’ve lost.”
“That may work,” Rupert said. “In fact, I’m sure most towns will be thrilled at the possibility of assistance. Regardless, we still don’t have the resources to do everything else you’ve asked for. We’re quite limited as to what we can do right now. You’re asking for strike teams to hit the military bases and other squads to ambush any fleeing Sons of Liberty. I don’t think we have the manpower.”
“So leave only three or four men to watch over discovered supplies,” Lukas said.
“But sir, there could be a thousand sites to watch over within a few weeks,” General Kane argued.
“So deploy three to four thousand men,” Lukas grumbled. “My friends, if we are to become limitless—an endless kingdom for a broken world to flock to—then we must think without limits. With every day we wake, we must focus on remaking this world so that it does not remake us first. Yes, we must reconstruct this shattered land. Yes, we must defend the borders we have established while expanding those borders daily. But above all else, we must seek out our greatest enemies and hunt them down to the ends of the earth.”
The digital map in the center of the room and the dimmed lights overhead suddenly winked out, causing more than one person to jump. Warren grumbled, leaping from his seat and approaching the Point of Reference device.
“My apologies, everyone. I will—”
>
Warren fell back onto the floor from shock as a man wearing dark jeans, a white sweater, and a black scarf materialized in the darkness. Jamie gasped, General Kane cursed, and everyone else stiffened. Lukas’ eye began to twitch as he looked at the man who smiled back at him. A man he hated.
The man he feared.
“Hello, my old friends,” Sigmund said, a warm smile donning his face. “It is good to see you all again. I’ve enjoyed listening in on everything you’ve been up to since we last parted.”
“Shut it down, Warren!” Lukas bellowed.
“You always were the fearful one,” Sigmund said with a coy smile that infuriated Lukas. “I’d hate to scare you off before we even get a chance to catch up. It sounds as though you have a lot on your plate so I promise I will only take a moment of your time.”
“Scare me off,” Lukas said as he slowly stood, holding his hand out to Warren. “You think I am afraid of you?”
“No,” Sigmund said as he grinned, the apparition far too realistic for Lukas’ comfort. “I think you are terrified of me. I think you’ve been horrified the entirety of your wretched little life.”
Lukas began to quiver, shaking as a primal rage coursed through his veins. “You should be the one who is terrified, for I am going to find you. I will chase you down and every last Patriarch who still bends a knee to you. I will find you and I will drag you to the gates of hell and toss you into her fiery embrace. You think I felt pain? You will bathe in an eternal anguish, far worse than anything that anyone has ever known!”
“There it is,” Sigmund said, cocking his head back with a chuckle. “Your never-failing fault. Anger to always cloud your mind. I revel in your weakness.” Sigmund turned, the smile disappearing from his face as he stared at Jamie. “I must say, Jamie, I do not know what you see in the man. You were always so fond of him. Going on about Lukas Chambers, his power, and what was that you called it? Ah, yes, his intoxicating lure. It was almost as though you forgot he is a married man. Does Maria know how badly you desire him?”
Lukas glanced over at Jamie as Sigmund spoke. This time, the woman’s face did turn the color of her hair. Her eyes remained locked with Sigmund’s as tears began to well up inside them, though Lukas couldn’t tell if they were tears of indignation or shock.
“You’re going to die, Sigmund,” Lukas said, though he couldn’t withhold the soft tremble in his voice. “I will watch with pleasure as you beg for us to finish you.”
“Maybe one day, and maybe not. Death has always found us all, though I am close to changing that fact. Regardless, the time has come for me to leave. But before I go, I must say the one thing I came here to say.”
“Which is what?” Lukas asked.
“You see, you keep saying that you are going to embark on some grand quest to track me down. You speak as though you might find me hiding under some rock on the other side of the world, fearing for my life. But Lukas, my old friend, I suggest you heed the counsel of those around you and prepare yourself for invasion. For you might think you are coming for me, but you are wrong.” Sigmund leaned forward, his digital phantom close enough to make Lukas visibly shake. “It is I who am coming for you!”
Sigmund lunged forward, his body shifting into a monstrous demon whose sharp fangs and wicked claws snapped for Lukas’ throat. Lukas cried out and fell backward, landing in his soft chair with a grunt. The image of the demon winked out, though Sigmund’s cold laughter continued.
As Sigmund’s mirth faded, General Kane leapt to his feet, commanding Warren to isolate the signal and locate its origin. Maria ran to Lukas, bending close as she checked on him. Jamie had buried her face in her hands and shook lightly as she cried. All around the room, those who had been composed a few minutes before were in a frenzy.
Lukas, however, took a deep breath and lowered his eyes, trying and failing to shrug the sensation that arose from within. It was a subtle pain, barely detectible as it grew. He knew it wasn’t actually real—just like Sigmund or the creature he had become hadn’t actually been there in the room. Still, his mind made it real and he trembled as the slightest sensation of the hell he had once dwelled in returned.
Chapter Four
Beneath the Highland Shadow
The old blue truck rumbled to a stop a few hundred feet back from a blockade that guarded the entrance to the small town of Princeton, West Virginia. Gene Smith peered through the hazy windshield, staring at the armed men who gazed back as snowflakes slowly drifted about outside. Six armed guards dressed in mismatched winter clothing protected the gate. Gene glanced over at Adam, the younger man’s face as unreadable as the strangers outside.
It had been twelve days since the Battle of DC and nine days since they set out from the abandoned home in northern Virginia to begin their slow westward journey. The highways and back roads they traveled had been eerily vacant. Gene figured most people had long ago abandoned the cold mountains for the security of lower elevation towns or the rapidly growing Imperium. Any unbiased information Lev was able to uncover about the battle was sketchy at best, but one bit of news had been clear.
The Sons of Liberty were scattered and being hunted down like wild dogs.
As furious as that news had made Gene, it was only the latest of Lukas’ countless crimes that had been enraging Gene for decades. Regardless, it was like throwing rocket fuel on a forest fire. No matter how hot his anger blazed, Gene had learned long ago that it could always burn hotter. The only hope he had to douse that inferno was to find his way back to Texas, gather up what support he could, and march east in force. But all that depended on him gathering and rebuilding his army as quickly as possible, and sadly, those he had saved in DC now only slowed him down.
Gene had wanted to leave the morning after the battle, but Tanker had continued to slip in and out of consciousness due to a high fever that wouldn’t go away. Though Marc had initially been concerned that bone marrow might have leaked into Tanker’s bloodstream, he had decided the likely case was that the deep gash on his thigh had become infected and was about to cause a life-threatening fever. Sure enough, Marc took Tanker’s temperature the next morning and it had been a brain-melting one hundred and four. They refrained from leaving for one more day while Marc did everything he could to keep Max’s temperature below the killing point.
The following night, they set out for Texas. Adam had insisted they first head southwest toward the small mountain town of Bryson City, North Carolina. Apparently, Elizabeth had informed him of a plethora of storehouses scattered across the States nearly a year ago when he first met her. He had memorized their locations and said the warehouse was in the basement of a vacant home, though he had never been there himself. It had supposedly been one of twelve supply depots she had confided to him. Adam claimed it held enough food, medicine, and weapons to arm a small army. It was all a lot of speculative talk and Gene had outright refused Adam’s request. Gene wanted to be over the mountains and heading west as soon as possible, not venturing deeper into the Appalachians. Adam had argued their desperate need for supplies but Gene’s opinion won out with the team in the end, though barely.
The current plan was to cross the West Virginia Mountains, travel the length of Kentucky and Missouri, and finally reach the current borders of the Republic of Texas within a month. Gene had hoped they would be able to put close to one hundred miles behind them every night, but driving strange roads in the dark, navigating by obscure maps, and facing the constant threat of running into the wrong crowd had proven more difficult than he had imagined. As they crossed into West Virginia, Tanker’s fever worsened. Marc tried everything he could to cool Tanker, but it was quite clear that without antibiotics, Max would soon die. That morning, a man who had traded them ammo for fuel told of a trading post a few hours away in Princeton. Despite Gene’s frustration with their slow pace, he knew they had to find medicine for Max or watch him pass away. As mission-focused as Gene was, even he couldn’t sit back and let the big guy die.
“W
hat are you thinking?” Gene asked, breaking the silence in the pickup truck.
Adam looked back at Gene before refocusing his attention on the armed guards. He paused for a moment, scratching his thin beard as the calculated deadliness of a soldier ready to kill filled his eyes. Gene had known Adam for the better part of a year, living with him for weeks while they had hunkered down in Montana. Adam had always been slow to anger, the love for his family combatting his duty to America. However, with the death of his family and the destruction of his country, Gene had watched as the good man within Adam began to battle against an inner rage. Though it pained Gene to watch the man descend into an existence of hatred, he refrained from bringing it up. The world had shifted, leaving no room for the kind among the callous.
“I don’t like it,” Adam replied. “What you are you thinking?”
“I am what you’d call a night hound,” Gene answered with a grin. “I don’t like coming out of the shadows unless I’m on the hunt.”
“We are on the hunt,” Adam said. “We need those antibiotics.”
“Well, if we go in there, we risk the chance of becoming the prey.”
“Don’t you think the Humvee behind us will…discourage any trouble?” Adam replied, gesturing back to the armored SUV that rumbled behind their beat up pickup.
“I think it might encourage trouble if they decide they want it badly enough.”
“So you’re saying we should turn around and circle the town?” Adam asked.
Gene paused before shaking his head.
“You know that’s not an option, unless we’re fine with letting Max burn from the inside out.”
“Agreed,” Adam said.
“But I’m not going to sit here and pretend this isn’t dangerous.”
“I’m not worried about danger,” Adam replied blankly “If I die, so be it.”
“Talk like that will kill a man and those around him quickly during war.”