Sic Semper Tyrannis

by Marcus Richardson

  Ted followed Erik’s gaze. “He’s right,” said Ted as he threw another bag into the idling M-ATV. “Time to decide, boys. You want to die for the flag or save yourself—then come back and make Ivan die for his flag?”

  “Ready when you, sir!” called out Pinner from the other M-ATV. He opened the passenger side suicide-door and waited. Seeing Pinner with Ted and Erik sealed the deal.

  Susan turned the rifle around and handed it to one of the surprised Guards. They looked at each other. Neither one took the rifle at first. Finally one of them did and said, “AWOL in wartime is punishable by death, you know…”

  “I could shoot you right now…” said the other.

  “But you won’t, will you? Because this isn’t AWOL—it’s following the orders set forth in Matterhorn,” said Erik. He pointed at the sky. The black dots were clearly tiny men. They were drifting closer and the planes continued to drop more. The dull thrum of their engines began to creep into Erik’s range of hearing. Another fighter jet streaked by overhead. “Because of that.”

  The jet looped around the school, its engines screaming in the blue sky.

  “They know we’re here,” warned Ted. “Time to roll, man!” He counted his kids, then shut the armored door after Susan climbed in. “Come on!”

  “Go on, get out of here,” said the Guardsman with the rifle. His eyes were stared at the wall of black smoke beginning to blot out the sky to the south.

  MAJOR STROGOLEV STRAINED TO hear the voice of his commanding officer over the noise of battle. The BTR’s main gun fired almost constantly. The whup-whup-whup sounded more like a helicopter than a gun.

  “Dah, Colonel, I read you!” he shouted. “We have engaged the enemy.”

  “Good, Aleksei! Drive them back! My lead elements will arrive in less than an hour. You have the air cover we were promised? I have ordered my airborne troops to deploy.”

  “Yes!” hollered Strogolev as the ground shook once more. “They are laying waste the American positions we marked for them. It is a glorious sight!”

  “Don’t kill them all, Aleksei! Save some for me!” the Colonel said with a laugh.

  You arrogant ass, this is my battle. Strogolev grinned. “There’s plenty for everyone! We’re starting a firestorm and it is causing the civilians to run straight into the face of the enemy.”

  “Do not push too hard, Major. Your mission is to keep them bottled up. My forces will do the conquering. And by tomorrow night, we’ll have dinner in Tampa!”

  Strogolev replaced the mic on its hook and stepped outside into the sunlight again. The interior of the BTR was getting too damn hot anymore. He glanced around his forward command post.

  At a conveniently placed T&A rest stop were parked six mobile BM-21 missile trucks and their supply vehicles. Another round of artillery rockets lit up and hissed into the sky on plumes of white smoke. Soldiers scurried between the trucks and the launchers, bringing new rockets and launching pins.

  Trucks filled with scouts streamed past the command center, taking troops toward the front line. He had given them orders to not engage the enemy, but attack civilians. The pilots had reported seeing waves of people fleeing the fighting and the burning buildings. It was creating the perfect atmosphere of chaos and panic that would sow not only confusion in the ranks of the Americans but give him a tactical advantage. He still maintained the smaller force in the field, but through the efforts of the stampeding civilians and the jets strafing enemy positions, his scout force was well on its way toward the capture of Orlando.

  He would be damned if he’d let that pompous fool Doskoy take all the credit for bringing Orlando to its knees. This was his fight, his idea, his men, and it would be his glory.

  “Gregor!” he called out. Stepanovich finished giving orders to an aide and hurried to his CO’s side.

  “Yes, comrade Major?” The man’s dour, calm face was as aggravating as ever.

  Did nothing excite him? “Get on the radio with those pilots,” Strogolev said, pointing at one of the planes streaking past overhead. “Give them the order to attack gas stations and fuel reserves. I want total anarchy!”

  “Yes, Major!” said Stepanovich.

  “And give the order for our men to move forward! We will take Orlando by nightfall!”

  A lieutenant rushed up to Strogolev holding a dispatch. “Sir!” he said and paused to salute. Strogolev waved off the formality.

  “What is it?”

  “Word from one of the pilots—they’ve located a large medical facility to the north of town that has a large number of military vehicles nearby. Many civilians and a significant military presence.”

  “Destroy it! Before Doskoy’s paratroopers get all the glory. Reroute a squadron of jets over there and send a rifle company to take it down.”

  HANG ON BACK THERE, Brin!” Erik shouted over the roar of the M-ATV’s engine. Pinner pushed the vehicle without mercy in an attempt to keep up with Ted’s family, barreling down the access road ahead of them.

  Brin squealed in fright as Pinner took a corner too fast and the left side of the big truck lifted off the ground to the accompaniment of chirping tires. Erik struggled remain in his seat when the 25,000 pound armored truck crashed back to the pavement. Erik readjusted his helmet and glanced back at his wife, strapped down in the rear jump-seat. The circle of light pouring through the open turret in the roof illuminated her scared face. He wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and—

  “Shit!” gasped Pinner a split second before impact.

  Erik was slammed forward against the dashboard. He grunted in pain but it was forgotten when he saw the red smear across his side of the now cracked windshield.

  Pinner flipped on the wipers and smeared the blood even more. He cursed again and glanced at Erik. “Damn fool came out of nowhere. Who the hell jumps in front of a speeding Matvee with a 240 on top?”

  “Heads up back there, we’re taking fire—people throwing bricks, bottles, that sort of thing,” said Ted’s voice from the dash-mounted radio.

  “Now he tells us,” muttered Brin.

  Erik frowned as he checked the skies again through his gore-smeared ballistic window. He keyed the radio: “There’s an awful lot of paratroopers up there, man…” He watched as Ted maneuvered the lead M-ATV around a crowd of people that surged out of an alley next to a large office building.

  “Watch out!” Brin said.

  “I see them, ma’am,” said Pinner through gritted teeth. He jerked the wheel left and right, weaving a path through the screaming crowd. Something hit the side of the vehicle.

  “Taking fire from the crowd,” he observed. Erik gripped his rifle a little tighter.

  “Hooah,” was Pinner’s grunted response.

  A mournful beeping tone filled the air. Erik had a brief vision of his old Chrysler Sebring sitting at a red light a few years back, watching the check engine light glow on the instrument panel. He had been listening to the radio report about what would later be known as the Great Northeast Blackout…it seemed like so long ago…

  “You gotta be kidding me,” said Pinner as he fishtailed through an intersection. The rear quarter made contact with several people, eliciting brief screams as they were thrown aside like rag dolls.

  Erik looked behind them and saw the bodies sail through the air and then they were lost in the crowds pouring into the streets. “What is it?” he asked, looking forward again. Overhead, a jet screamed past, low enough to make his chest vibrate with the noise.

  “Bingo fuel!” called out Pinner.

  Erik grabbed the radio. “Ted, we’re almost out of gas!”

  “Roger that,” was the terse reply. Ted’s vehicle took a quick right, barely keeping ahead of the throng of panicked civilians.

  A loud explosion rocked the M-ATV, and impressive feat considering it was designed from the ground up to withstand mines and IEDs. It was, for all intents and purposes, a tank on wheels. Erik looked up. “The hell was that?”

  “Over
there!” said Brin, pointing at a gas station down the main street. A greasy-black ball of smoke dissipated in the air. They passed behind a building as they continued their mad dash north and the surreal scene was gone as fast as it had appeared.

  “Whatever you do, don’t stop!” said Ted’s voice. “The Russians are targeting gas stations and civilians—the main net is full of chatter. Keep it on this channel and follow me, I think I know a way out of this mess.”

  “We’re right on your ass,” replied Erik. “But I don’t know how much longer we can keep this pace up.”

  “Roger that—strip mall coming up. Follow me, we’ll try to catch our breath there.”

  “Copy,” said Erik. “Uh…you see that big transport up there?”

  “I see it,” said Pinner.

  Erik watched the paratroopers leap out the back of the slow-flying four-engine plane. They were close. They looked like they were right on top of the strip-mall Ted was heading toward. “Ted! We got bad guys in the air right over us!”

  “I seem them…we’re gonna make it. Once you park, get your asses out of that M-ATV and regroup inside. Grab what gear you can, but hurry!”

  Their vehicle began to sputter, a wet, coughing sound that made the frame shudder. Erik and Pinner exchanged looks. “We’re on fumes!” Erik reported over the radio.

  “Almost there…”

  Pinner didn’t so much as park the M-ATV as let it die and come to a stop on its own. Erik kicked his door open, slung his pack across his back. He reached into their pile of gear and grabbed his katana in one hand, then half pulled, half-carried Brin across the sidewalk into a ransacked Hallmark store. They might be fleeing for their lives, but he wasn’t about to leave Brin’s family heirloom and his most prized possession behind. Not after it had saved Brin’s life back at the Freehold.

  A flashlight clicked on twice in the darkness of the interior of the deserted store. “Over here,” Ted’s voice called out.

  The roar of the transport planes died down. Erik took a knee next to Ted as Brin went to attend to Susan and the kids. He took a moment to secure the priceless katana to his pack opposite the gladius. Pinner arrived next with a load of gear, his boots crunched on the broken glass that littered the store-front.

  “We gotta get the hell away from those trucks,” Ted said, nodding at their vehicles. The big tan M-ATVs were smeared in gore and looked like something off a movie set. Ted glanced over his shoulder at his family. “Honey, you okay?”

  “I’ve been better,” Susan replied in a thin voice. She gasped and clutched her belly.

  Brin shuffled over next to Erik. She leaned in and whispered in his ear, “She’s re-opened her sutures from the gunshot wound to her stomach. She needs to stay put. I think I can patch her up, but…”

  Erik cursed inwardly as he searched his pack for the first aid kit. He handed it to Brin. “Just keep her calm and try and keep the kids quiet. I don’t know what the next move is—”

  “Sir, let me get the extra ammo from my ride,” said Pinner.

  “No, we can’t risk going back out. They already know where—look!” hissed Ted. Everyone in the little group looked into the parking lot behind the gaping entrance to the store. A shadow flitted across the blacktop. Then another, and another. Three more shadows drifted slowly past their field of view.

  “They’re right on top of us,” Erik said. “What the hell we gonna do now?”

  Someone shouted outside—a guttural, brutish sound.

  “The Russians!” Brin said, one hand going to her mouth.

  “Everyone listen up,” Ted said quietly. “We need to move to the rear of the store—kids, help your mother. Let’s go. Move!”

  Once everyone had started to move Ted gripped Erik’s shoulder. “I spotted a side door when we came in,” he said, pointing across the building. “I’m going to take that and draw their attention further up the strip mall. I think that leads into the next store. You take everyone to the back…I’m assuming those double doors over there lead to a store-room or receiving area. There’s got to be a fire escape or something in there.”

  Erik looked into the gloomy interior of the store. Pinner was quietly shepherding the women and children towards the darkest corner of the building. Another voice from outside wafted in on the slight breeze.

  Ted whispered in an urgent voice, “We don’t have much time, man. I need you to get my family to safety. Can you do that?”

  Erik nodded and tried to appear confident to his friend. “But uh…what if there’s…”

  Ted clapped him on the shoulder. “Just like at the Freehold, brother. Nothing to it.” He turned and started to move away from the group.

  “But those guys didn’t have machine guns!” hissed Erik at the retreating shadow.

  “Neither did you! Now go!” said Ted in an urgent whisper.

  “Right,” muttered Erik. He glanced back at the front of the store and saw three shadows appear. From the angle, the Russians must have been standing on the roof, right over the entrance. A shiver went down Erik’s spine despite the near stifling atmosphere inside the ransacked store. He hurried as quietly as he could to catch Pinner and the rest of the group.

  “Sir, we making a stand here?” asked the Indian when Erik rejoined them in the darkness at the rear of the store.

  “No way in hell, Pinner. We’re leaving.”

  “What about Daddy?” said a small voice in the darkness.

  “Don’t worry, honey, Daddy will be right back,” cooed Susan’s voice. Erik could hear the pain through her words—she needed proper medical attention, and she needed it now.

  “There’s a set of double doors to our left,” Erik said, motioning in the darkness with his hand. He could barely make out the dark shapes of his friends against the barely lighter background. “Everyone take someone’s hand.” He found Brin’s and intertwined his fingers in hers. Quickly he felt for the reassuring shape of his katana, strapped to his pack. Satisfied the group was ready, he got into a crouch and walked as quietly as possible to the double doors.

  The thick plastic doors parted with a barely audible hiss of air pressure change as they moved from the store into a cavernous space that Erik assumed was the store room. When the door closed behind Pinner and everyone was safely inside, he decided to risk a glance with his flashlight. There was absolutely no light at all. It was like they were standing in a black hole.

  “Close one eye, sir,” warned Pinner as Erik unlatched his light from his vest.

  “What?”

  “If you keep one eye closed, when you turn on the flashlight, you won’t be blind. You’ll still have dark-adaptation in one eye. It’s an old soldier’s trick.”

  “Right on,” said Erik and he did as he was told. He turned on the light for three seconds—long enough for him to see they were indeed in the store’s receiving area. Boxes were stacked nearly to the twenty-foot high ceiling along the outer walls. There looked to be a supply locker—it had been busted open by someone a while ago. There were rolls of packing tape and labels and miscellaneous warehouse supplies scattered across the floor in front of the metal cabinet. In the far right corner, he had spotted a desk with a computer and phone and chair. In the left far corner was what they were looking for—an emergency exit next to the large roll-up door where a truck could unload freight.

  Before the light had clicked off, he had noticed there was nothing in the path from where they stood to the emergency door. He opened his closed eye and closed the eye that was now useless because of the flashlight. Erik grinned.

  “Hey, it worked, Pinner. Nice.”

  “Any time, sir.”

  “All right, everyone, follow me—stay close and hold hands. We’re going across the room to that door and I hope to hell there’s no alarm.”

  A muffled, yet unmistakable sound caused everyone to freeze in place. Gunfire.

  “Ted!” moaned Susan. Her voice sounded thick, almost slurred.

  “Babe, we got to get her out of here.
I need to see to be able to try and fix her up…” warned Brin in a quiet voice.

  “Here we go,” said Erik. He led them across the unnerving dark space and paused as he approached the thin crack of light at the bottom edge of the emergency door. It looked no thicker than a sheet of paper. “Everyone get ready—when I open this, we need to slip outside quickly and quietly.” He put his hands on the emergency exit bar.

  “I’ll go first, sir. Scout it out,” said Pinner, suddenly at his shoulder.

  Erik twitched in surprise. “Jesus, Pinner, don’t sneak up on me like—” Erik froze. When he had jumped, his hand brushed a panel sticking up off the doors push-bar. He gingerly moved his hands over a hexagonal panel. It was clear as a bell in his mind’s eye: a stop sign.

  “Hold up—I think this things got an alarm. There’s a piece sticking up that’s in the shape of a stop sign.” His hands explored the door some more as another burst of gunfire reached them through the empty store. It sounded further away. An answering shot, loud and sharp, seemed to come from the other side of the cinder-block wall of the receiving area.

  “Major’s leading ‘em on a wild goose chase,” said Pinner, the smile evident in his voice.

  “Shit, there’s a big square thing on the door, too…I think it’s a battery compartment.” Erik shook his head. “We can’t risk this thing squealing when we push it. The Russian’s will come running for sure.”

  “What about this big door?” asked Brin. “I can feel with my hands it’s like corrugated steel or something. It’s big.”

  “I think that’s where the delivery trucks unload…” whispered Erik. More gunfire in the distance. “Screw it, let’s go. Pinner, feel the wall here, where it meets the door. Got it?”

  “Hooah.”

  “Good, shimmy down to the other side.” Erik waited for his NCO to reach the far side of the roll-up door. “Ready?”

  “Yup.”

  “Feel any locks? I got nothing on this side.”

  “Yeah,” said Pinner. “Someone already cut it…got it in my hand.”