Alea Jacta Est: A Novel of the Fall of America (Future History of America Book 1)

by Marcus Richardson

  Rob touched the brim of his hat, “Much obliged.” He picked up the radio off the dash and said, “All right boys, coast is clear. Come on in. We have permission to take gas from abandoned cars. Keep it to the interstate and keep it respectful.”

  “Copy that One, Overlord out,” was Lance’s immediate reply. The others chimed in as well.

  Rob chatted with Brady until the convoy arrived, telling of the events of the past few weeks down on the border. The raids into Nogales; the kidnappings. A few brief skirmishes by the Regulators; the arrival of the Chinese. Brady soaked it all up and asked detailed questions. When Rob asked of events in the north, he was more than willing to repay the kindness of news and explained of the mass exodus from Tucson. The gangs had run wild, how MS-13 had taken over the downtown and was only now starting to encroach on the suburbs. It was anarchy a few miles north, he said.

  Finally the convoy arrived and passed with Lance in the lead. As the Regulators slowly navigated the roadblock, Rob began to follow. “You military?” he asked Brady, walking along the truck as Rob rolled ahead at idle.

  “Two stints with the Army. Desert Storm.”

  Rob nodded in respect and thanked him again. “I’m serious, Brady. What’s coming is bad. Real bad. You need to get your people out of here.”

  Brady paused, back at his position in the roadblock and surveyed the dry, southern Arizona landscape leading up to Tucson to the north. Smoke from the dying inner city drifted lazily in the still desert air. He sighed. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. Where’ll we go? We got things pretty well sorted out here…even the gangs don’t mess with us now.”

  “You got a HAM?” asked Rob.

  “Yeah.”

  Rob gave him the Regulator call sign and the frequency they monitored. “When the power went, most relay stations went offline—“

  “There’s plenty of solar-powered ones though,” said Brady.

  “You really gonna stay?” Rob asked one more time. The town was larger than Nogales, but even if everyone was armed, there was an army coming.

  “Local law enforcement in the county got together a few weeks back…like a network. We’re planning things for ‘em. Just didn’t have confirmation they were coming till you and your men showed up,” Brady said, grinning.

  Rob saw the same look on his Regulators a while back before the shooting had started. Now they all looked grim, not excited. Tired, not amped. “Well, take care of yourself, soldier. Call us—we’ll help if we’re able. We owe you one for the gas.”

  “You already have helped. You delayed them down south at the border for us. That gave us time. Now you gave us intel. I’ll get on the horn and spread the word county-wide. We’ll have a welcome mat ready for the yellow bastards.”

  They shook hands and Rob pulled away to catch up with his convoy. As he drove through the suburban streets south of Tucson, he saw signs on every street that the residents—or someone—was preparing for a real fight. Blockades, kill zones, reinforcement of buildings and some groups of men and women training. He shook his head sadly.

  “They don’t get it, do they?” asked Lance’s voice over the radio, as if reading Rob’s mind. The convoy, still up ahead, was slowing along the main interstate, men pulling over to siphon gas from abandoned cars.

  “They got balls, standin’ up like this,” admired Rob sadly. “Maybe they’ll see they don’t got no tanks to fight back and bug out like us. We could use the help. These folk got religion.”

  “Think so?”

  Rob drove past city hall and saw with pride the US flag flying above the famous yellow Gadsden Rattlesnake, the motto “Don’t Tread On Me” flying proudly in the new Revolution. The Arizona flag flew on a separate pole but was there, nonetheless.

  “They can fight with us anytime,” Rob said.

  “Lot of AR-15s…think they raided a National Guard armory or something. I swear I just saw some dude with an anti-tank rocket…”

  Rob saw an armored personnel carrier rumbled down a side street with three camo-clad soldiers in full kit. “Something like that,” he grinned. Rob pulled over by an abandoned car when he caught up with the convoy. He picked up the radio and called out, “All right Regulators…top off and we move out. We got a lot of miles to cover before Tombstone.” He grinned to himself. Everyone he’d met thinks the Regulators were bound for Tombstone, but once north of Tucson they would head northeast, not east. Up in the Apache, they could hunt and fish and raid down on the Chinese at will.

  Besides, he told himself, we gotta stay near Tucson when the shit hits the fan. Gotta be ready to help out Brady and his men. They could be useful allies.

  Rob’s grin faded when he thought of the coming fighting. It would no longer be border skirmishes and defense of private property. Their personal conflict was growing.

  The Regulators were going to war.

  SARASOTA

  Fight or Flight

  TED LOOKED AT the doctor in disbelief. “Excuse me?” he asked.

  “I said your wife is a very lucky woman. If she hadn’t gotten here when she did…” he wiped the sweat off his balding brow with a gloved hand. “If the bullet had gone just a fraction of an inch to the right—“

  “She’s going to make it?” gasped Ted. The pain and grief that had become his armor over the last 24 hours began to drop away. Instead, the faintest glimmer of hope registered across his sweat and grime covered face.

  The doctor, a Colonel, Erik saw, smiled the smile of a grandfather explaining something to a young grandson for the umpteenth time. Eternally patient. “Yes, son, she’s going to be fine. She’ll be sore, more sore than she’s ever been in her life, but she’ll live.”

  Ted fairly tackled the Colonel with a whoop of joy that echoed through the cavernous gymnasium that was their makeshift hospital. Others who were waiting for word of loved ones looked up, some with anger at being disturbed, others taking heart at the expression of hope.

  Erik had to pull the Marine off, thanking the man over and over again. Eventually, the doctor begged leave and moved off to check on his other patients and Ted and Erik were alone in their little corner of the crowded building.

  Ted looked at his friend and smiled. It was an exhausted, but heartfelt smile of relief. “She’s going to make it…”

  “That’s what the man said,” Erik replied with a grin. “Come on, let’s get some fresh air.” All of the moans and cries of the wounded gave him a cold chill down his spine. He never could tolerate being in a hospital.

  Just then, Brin walked up carrying supplies for the operating room. When they had arrived in the National Guard convey after their rescue from the Freehold, she had immediately volunteered to help. “I take it you got some good news!” she said, her face hopefully watching Ted.

  Ted was all smiles and hugged her so forcefully she nearly dropped the towels and sterile gloves she carried. He stepped back, eyes moist. “It’s true—she’s going to make it.” He choked back a tear, voice hoarse with relief. “I can’t hardly believe it—she lost so much blood…”

  “When can you see her?”

  Ted looked at Brin and blinked. “I…I don’t know. I don’t think he said and I forgot to ask…” He turned towards the back of the gym, where the makeshift walls had been erected to give the doctors and patients privacy.

  Before Ted could march off to find out, a young soldier came in the main door and spotted the three survivors from the Freehold. They were the newest people to hitch up with the National Guard in the area and Erik was unmistakable with his shock of red, unruly hair and large frame.

  “Jenson? Larsson?” the soldier asked in a clipped, professional tone.

  Ted looked the man up and down before answering. “Yeah. What can I do for you, Private?”

  The soldier straightened his shoulders and delivered his message. “Captain Williams sends his compliments, sirs, and requests your presence in the HQ tent.”

  The three civilians shared a look. “What for?” asked Brin, s
uspicion in her voice.

  The soldier looked at her and nodded the tip of his helmet. “Begging pardon ma’am, but he didn’t tell me. I was sent to fetch ‘em, that’s all. Got a vehicle out front. Gentlemen?” he asked and held the door open, palm gesturing outside.

  “It’ll be alright,” said Erik. He leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek. “We’ll be right back.”

  “Lead on, MacDuff,” quipped Ted with a smile.

  As it turned out, Captain Williams did not want to speak with the two civilians at length. He was just the middleman. He congratulated Ted on his wife’s prognosis and thanked Erik and Ted again for rescuing his men from the Marina.

  “Gentlemen, I asked you here at the request of my new commanding officer, Colonel West.” He waved a hand to another man who had just entered the room.

  Erik watched as Colonel West walked to Ted and shook his hand. The two men, one older and shorter, one younger and taller, sized each other up in that way that men who deal in death often do. Then the Colonel moved over to Erik with clipped, efficient movement and extended a hand.

  Erik was surprised by the strength in the older man’s grip. His high and tight gray hair and the lines on his weathered face said he was old, but the grip could have bent steel. Erik tried to not wince.

  Colonel West stared in to Erik’s eyes with a blue-gray gaze that took the measure of the younger man in a split second. He stepped back and put his hands behind his back, just below the web belt that kept his BDUs in perfect order. “My name is Colonel Nathaniel West. I’m the new CO in this area of operation and I’ve got new orders.”

  Erik and Ted looked at each other then glanced at Captain Williams. He was watching the Colonel from under hooded eyes. He has no idea either, thought Erik warily. “Sir,” asked Erik cautiously. “What exactly does that have to do with us?”

  The Colonel frowned and looked at Erik with eyes that held no emotion whatsoever. Whatever it is, he doesn’t like it…

  “In light of your service to the soldiers at the Marina, my commanding officer, General Thompson, has directed me to thank you on his behalf.” The Colonel ground his teeth and paused. Clearly, he did not like thanking civilians for something he had no part in commanding or planning.

  “Well,” said Ted, totally unfazed by the Colonel’s demeanor. He grinned. “Just tell the General he’s welcome. We’re glad we could help out.”

  The Colonel grimaced but continued. “That’s not all. I am to offer you a choice. The General…”

  “Colonel West?” asked a voice in the adjacent room.

  “Here,” he barked without taking his eyes off Erik and Ted. Another soldier came in and after begging pardon for interrupting, handed the Colonel a sheet of paper and saluted.

  “Damn. I knew this was going to happen,” the Colonel muttered. He glanced at the two civilians in front of him, then looked at Captain Williams. “You handle this foolishness, Williams. I don’t have time for pleasantries anymore. I want you to find me when you’re done. Make it quick.” The Colonel handed Captain Williams a slip of paper from his pocket and the message he had just received.

  Captain Williams saluted. “Yes, sir.”

  Colonel West looked at Erik and Ted one more time, grunted his disgust at the situation and stormed out of the room. The tension in the room vanished almost instantly. Erik exhaled. Ted was still grinning like a kid on Christmas Day.

  Captain Williams read the papers in his hands and looked up, his face pale. “Well, boys, I got good news and bad news.”

  Ted’s face darkened instantly. “Bad news.”

  The Captain looked at the paper again. “We’re pulling out. This is from the new area commander ,General Thompson.”

  “Area commander?” asked Erik.

  “New?” asked Ted.

  “Yeah…this is a notice to all Florida National Guard units that can receive the transmission. General Thompson has assumed command of all state forces.”

  “It’s that bad?” asked Ted quietly.

  “Looks like it,” replied Captain Williams. He tugged at the collar on his uniform and looked very uncomfortable. “Says here, the chain of command has collapsed. No word from the Governor and no word from central command in Washington.” He looked up at the two civilians. “When that happens, the highest ranking area commander is to assume command of the statewide forces to regain control of the situation.” He glanced back down at the paper in disbelief. “I’d never thought to implement this in anything other than a hurricane.”

  Erik’s mind raced. “So, let me get this straight…the President suspended the Constitution and put the whole country under martial law. Now the military can’t communicate with itself or the President, so the highest ranking state commanders are now in total control? And all this while Europe is invading our country.”

  “’Bout sums it up, yup.”

  “Great,” said Ted with a frown.

  Erik ignored his friend’s sarcasm. “So, this General Thompson, for all intents and purposes is just a dictator now? He’s judge, jury and executioner all in one.”

  “I don’t write the rules, Mr. Larsson.” Captain Williams glanced back down at the paper. “Says here that he’s ordered a general retreat and regrouping. All units are to proceed north to the Orlando-Tampa Line.”

  “Wait, we’re just giving up all of south Florida?” asked Ted, shocked.

  “Looks like it. Russian and Cuban forces have already taken Miami and are expected to spread out soon. They’re getting resupplied from Cuba on a regular basis. We can’t stop it alone so we got to pull back and get ready.”

  “But…” started Erik.

  “No ‘buts’, Mr. Larsson. We got 12 hours to be on the road north. It says bring all civilians possible, but leave everyone sick or wounded behind if it means disrupting unit cohesion.”

  “He can’t do that!” said Erik. “There are thousands of people who live here—how…”

  “Susan.”

  Erik stopped and looked at his friend. Ted looked at the floor, his face dark with despair. “You can’t take her with you…” he muttered. “She’ll slow you down.”

  “You didn’t let me give you the good news,” said Captain Williams. He waited for Erik and Ted to look at him before he continued. “The reason Colonel West asked for you is this,” he held up the other paper. “This is an order from General Thompson to offer you a choice in return for your actions at the Marina.”

  “A choice?” asked Erik.

  “A choice. Mr. Jenson, the General is willing to accept your reenlistment and give you a brevet rank of Major in the Florida National Guard. Mr. Larsson, the General is willing to accept your enlistment at the brevet rank of Second Lieutenant. Both of you will be assigned to my staff.”

  “What?” asked Erik. “I never said I’d join up!”

  “I know—“ began Captain Williams, hand up.

  “With all due respect, I’m a Marine and I’ll die a Marine, sir,” replied Ted with ice in his voice. He appeared to be insulted at the very thought of joining the Army.

  “I thought you might say that. This says that should you both decide to join us, your families will be brought to safety on our side of the Line. If you decline, you’ll be behind enemy lines once we pull out.”

  “You’ll take Susan? She’ll stay with the docs?” asked Ted, hopeful again.

  “According to this, yes.”

  Ted looked at Erik. “Seems a small price to pay…” he said.

  Erik wasn’t convinced. “And if we refuse?”

  “Well,” Captain Williams read some more. “I see why the Colonel was mad.” He chuckled. “Says here that you’re to be given food, weapons, ammunition and supplies to last a week. For you, your families and a vehicle. You can make your own way to wherever you want to go — be it north, south or whatever.”

  Erik immediately latched on to that idea. “So if we want to go north…say, way north…”

  “This letter will be your safe passage. Sa
ys so right there at the bottom,” replied Captain Williams. “Seems one of the boys you pulled out of the Marina was the grandson of General Thompson and he’s feeling generous.” Captain Williams looked from one man to the other. “I’ll give you two a few minutes to work it out, but you heard the Colonel. We gotta move on this.”

  After the Captain had stepped out of the room, Ted looked at Erik with pleading eyes. “I gotta go with them, man. Susan…”

  “I know,” Erik said, wiping the sweat from his face. “She’s got to go with the doctors.” He scratched red unruly beard on his chin and thought about the winters of his youth, up north. What he wouldn’t give for some snow. “I just…I’m not convinced we shouldn’t take the loot and strike out on our own.”

  “If Susan hadn’t gotten shot…” started Ted.

  “But she did. And you can’t leave her. You can’t leave your kids, man.”

  “Well, it’s not like I haven’t done it before. They’re military kids. They’ll understand. But…with Susan it’s different. I can’t leave her. Not like this. Not here.” Ted stepped over to the window watched the activity outside. Soldiers rushed here and there, trucks rumbled past. In the distance, the first of the tents began to collapse. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t go with you. I want nothing more than to get my family out of harm’s way and head for the hills…but…”

  “I never said I was leaving,” said Erik, equally as quiet. “Brin’s not likely to want head off into the wilderness. You saw how fast she took to helping out at the hospital tent. It’s what she was born to do—help people.” Erik sighed, a deep, soulful gust of air. His shoulders drooped. He walked over to stand next to Ted and peered out the window.

  “I wanted to get us away from all this so much…if I stay, we’ll be going straight into the fire. If we leave, it’ll be just the two of us, out in the wilderness heading north towards…I don’t even know what’s there…or who survived,” he said quietly.