Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3)

by Marcus Richardson

  "No spare key? No valet key?" asked Ted.

  Erik shook his head and looked up. "Nothing—but I did manage to avoid the ten or so people that ran into the parking garage looking for me." Erik continued to relay the details of his escape.

  "Looks like those SERE lessons I gave you weren’t a total waste of time…" Ted joked.

  "I'm just glad nobody saw you," said Brin. Satisfied that Erik was not wounded, and they were in no immediate danger of being found, she turned and ushered Teddy out of the room, saying she was going to check on Lindsay.

  Erik watched his wife disappear upstairs and sighed again. "I just keep feeling like I can't do anything right…"

  Ted slapped him on the shoulder and stood next to the window. "Don't worry about it. It was an honest mistake."

  Erik took another swig from the water. "You know how to hot-wire a car?"

  Ted laughed. "No way in hell. Why?"

  Erik grimaced and let his head rest against the wall again. "Just curious. How are we gonna get a car running?"

  "Well you could just ask," said a voice from the other side of the room. Erik snapped his eyes open and raised his rifle to aim at the chest of a bearded man in jeans and flip-flops. He looked like a vagrant.

  Ted already had his pistol out and aimed with a rock-steady arm toward the intruder. "Don't move. Hands up."

  The man continued to stare at them with his hands in his pockets, an irritatingly smug look on his face. "That's no way to treat a visitor, man—and in case you didn't know, like, you are in the visitor’s center…"

  The ex-deputy stepped forward and holstered his pistol when he heard Erik take his rifle off safe. The bearded young man opened his mouth to say something, but Ted lunged forward and swept his feet out from under him, simultaneously swinging his left arm to the stranger's sternum. The bearded fellow crashed to the floor sputtering gurgled curses. It was no contest. Ted had the young man's face down on the floor with his hands behind his back and legs spread in a matter of seconds.

  "Who are you? How'd you get in here?

  "Ow! Hey!"

  "What's going on?" asked Brin from the top of stairs.

  Ted flashed his knife in front of the beard. "Who do you work with? How many other are there out there?"

  "Brin, stay up there!" Erik called.

  "Whoa, man! Slow down! I'm not here to hurt anybody!"

  "Who's that?" she asked.

  "How many are with you?" roared Ted.

  Erik ignored the two men on the floor as he moved to the stairs. He pointed his rifle at the open exit door down the hallway. "You okay?" he called up the stairs.

  "Yes! What's going on?"

  "Get the kids in the room and lock the door!" his voice brooked no argument.

  "Okay!"

  Erik waited until he heard the footsteps retreat and the door slam upstairs before he moved down the hall and investigated the open exterior door. Just outside the door frame, the same girl who’d walked right past his hiding spot stood staring at the rifle in his hands with wide blue eyes. Her tangle of blonde hair had been pulled back into a ponytail.

  She stood there shaking like a leaf. "Hey…omigod…I–I–" she muttered.

  "On the floor, now!" Erik yelled. When she didn't move except to raise trembling hands, Erik jumped forward, grabbed one arm and pulled her inside. As she stumbled forward, he slammed the door shut. He turned and kicked her as gently as he could behind the knee. She gasped and staggered forward before falling to her hands and knees. Erik put his foot on her butt and shoved her sprawling into the room with Ted and the other intruder.

  "Well, well, well," Ted crowed. "Looks like we got us a little party!” He glared at his prisoner. “You said you were alone."

  "Roger?" the girl asked.

  "Tammy! What are you doing here?"

  "I thought you were dead!" she cried out. "I heard voices and…oh my God, what are these guys doing to you?" She began to sob, her words slurred.

  Ted stood up. "Both of you—shut the fuck up and answer my questions!"

  Roger turned to look at him, his eyes twinkling. "Excuse me, sir, but how am I supposed to shut the fuck up and answer your questions at the same time?"

  The smart comment earned him a slap upside his head from Ted's hand. "Shut up! You know what I mean. Answer my questions or we're gonna have to dig some graves."

  "I'll tell you everything you want," Roger said, his eyes narrowing. "But I'm not saying another word till you let her go."

  "Roger, don't—" the girl blurted. "These guys are mean business!"

  "Tammy, be quiet!” he hissed. “I'm trying to save you."

  "How noble of you," she replied, her voice thick with sarcasm. "Just answer their questions—I thought I lost you once, I don't want to lose you again."

  Erik looked at Ted and shrugged. Ted rolled his eyes. "Are you serious?"

  "Look, man, I think it's pretty obvious I don't know how to fight. I'm not exactly what you would consider a threat," Roger said. "I’m just a grad-assistant, okay? And I sure as hell know Tammy is no fighter."

  "Hey! I know how to fight."

  "Jesus Christ," muttered Ted. He waved Erik off and helped Roger to his feet. "Okay, let's try this again."

  Erik safed his rifle and slung it over his shoulder before bending down to help the girl up. "Who are you two?"

  Tammy ran to Roger and fell into his embrace. Over the top of her head, Roger looked at Erik. "Thank you for not hurting her."

  Erik shared a glance with Ted. The marine shrugged one shoulder. "No problem. Now, you mind telling us who you are? What are you doing here?"

  "I could ask the same thing of you," Roger said. "The army scouts left a while ago and but sure as hell didn't look anything like you guys. Where'd you guys get those cool uniforms?"

  "Hey, we’re guys with guns, remember?" asked Ted, holding up the Springfield XD Erik had liberated from the RV. "We'll ask the questions, if you don't mind."

  "Okay, okay," said Roger. "Like I said, I'm a grad assistant. I was with the Professor when the power went out. Tammy's my girlfriend—she was visiting from Penn State when things all went crazy."

  "What were you guys doing on-campus in the middle of the summer?" asked Erik.

  "I was teaching the Professor's summer studies program. That’s when he does the majority of his research."

  "Who were those people you were working with earlier?" Erik asked Tammy.

  "Working with?"

  "At the parking garage."

  Her eyes widened again. "That was you?"

  Erik smiled. "Who were they?" he repeated.

  "Um, the Professor sent us to check out the gunshot."

  "We're just students," said Roger. "We don't have self-defense or military training at all," he continued.

  Tammy spoke up: "That's how I lost Roger. When the Jocks came across Main Street and attacked—”

  "The Jocks?" asked Ted.

  Roger nodded emphatically. "Yeah, the football and basketball teams were starting their summer practice squads when everything went down, right? They ended up banding together over up in the north campus—they're based out of the Denulli Center."

  "Okay, I don't know what the Denulli Center is and I don't know what your beef with the Jocks is—I just need to know what we're dealing with here." Ted pointed at the ground. "Your group—how many are in it?"

  "Oh there's probably 30 or 40 of us."

  “Shit,” muttered Erik. He glanced down the hallway toward the door again.

  "You have any kind of medicine here?" asked Brin as she came out of the stairwell. “We have a sick child with us.”

  Erik winced. He wasn’t ready to release that information yet. He saw by the twitch in Ted’s jaw that the marine wasn’t ready either.

  Roger stared at her for a long moment—long enough that Tammy hit him in the ribs. He coughed and sputtered an apology before looking at Brin again. "Yeah. Yeah, we got some stuff. I don't know exactly what. What are you looking for?
"

  "Antibiotics," Ted said, "or something to help fight infection and fever. It's my daughter…"

  "That's harsh, man. My best friend got a little cut on his hand last month. It got infected, and he died. Totally sucked."

  "Do you have anything that can help?" asked Erik.

  "I don't know, honestly," Roger said. "Tammy?"

  She looked at Erik and shrugged. "You'd have to ask the Professor. He keeps track of all that stuff."

  Ted put his hands on his hips. "Well, looks like you two need to arrange an introduction."

  Chapter 45

  Propagandist

  BRIN STARED AT TED. "I don't like this idea."

  "You think I do?" he shot back. "Lindsay's not getting any better—what other choice do I have?"

  Erik held his tongue as he kept watch over Roger, who sat in the corner sipping a bottle of water. He peered out the window as Brin and Ted argued the merits of inviting the Professor to come see them.

  "We could keep looking for—"

  "Some mythical medical facility we don't even know exists?"

  "Ted, I'm only trying to help keep us all safe."

  Peace reigned in the room for a moment. "I know," Ted said quietly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to shout like that."

  "It's fine," Brin said shortly, her voice indicating it was anything but. "The important thing is we do what's best for Lindsay."

  "Exactly," said Erik. "If this Professor has some meds that can help, that's the best course of action—even if we have to reveal our location in the process."

  "Oh, you already did that—that gunshot got everyone's attention, trust me," said Roger.

  Erik felt the heat rise in his cheeks as he peered around the corner of the window. The street remained deserted as the sun approached dusk. Still no sign of the Professor or Tammy. She'd been gone since before noon.

  "Shut up," Erik said, his jaw tight. "No one was talking to you."

  "I'm just saying—a gun is quite the rarity around here."

  Erik's ears pricked up. "What?"

  Ted and Brin moved closer. "What do you mean?" he asked.

  "Well," began Roger, settling himself into the corner, "if you give me something to eat—I’ve been on the run since dinner yesterday—I'll tell you all the tale of the Professor and his band of merry underclassmen, the Jocks and the Rebels."

  "Wait, now you're trying to blackmail us for food?" asked Erik. He turned to Ted just in time to see a Russian nutrient bar sail through the air and land in Roger's hands.

  "Start talking," Ted said.

  Roger tore into the exotic protein bar and made a face. "This isn't very good, is it?"

  "Well, it's Russian,” Erik said.

  “It's food,” Ted grunted. “Talk."

  Roger stared at Ted for a moment as he chewed and made a face. "What did they make this out of, haggis?"

  Ted glanced at Erik. He squatted down in front of Roger. “If you don't start making sense, I'll take that thing away from you and shove it up your ass. Sideways.” Ted crossed his arms. “Think it’ll taste better that way?"

  Roger swallowed and took a swig of his water. "Okay, okay. Look. There's something you’ve got to understand about the situation around here. There's not just our group—there's three groups in Newark. You got the Professor and the rest of us—"

  "Mostly college kids?" asked Erik.

  "Yeah, with a few grad-assistants like me and even some high schoolers who were here for that summer program I ran. Kind of like an early-admission thing in the entomology department." He took another drink of water and sighed. "Man, that stuff tastes nasty but it sure fills you up."

  "Okay, so you said earlier there's like 30 or 40 of you with the Professor," prodded Brin. "Who are the other two groups?"

  "Well, there's the Jocks—"

  "On the north campus, you already told us. Bunch of football players," interrupted Ted. "You got any idea on numbers?"

  Roger blinked. "Well, no, not really. We've never been able to find out. They don't talk much, just rush in and beat us up and run off with our supplies. Sometimes they drag off a girl or two," he said, looking at Brin. "The few times we've tried to send peace envoys, no one ever came back."

  "Were they the ones I saw run across Main Street this morning?"

  "Yes," Roger said. "I saw that, too. They're getting desperate. We already removed what provisions we thought were useful from almost all the shops on Main Street—they don't like the fact that we're preparing for the winter while they’ve spent the last few months throwing a never-ending kegger. Typical meat-heads."

  "So no one's really talked to them?" asked Brin.

  "No—why should we? They're just a bunch of knuckle-dragging Neanderthals who care more about how much they can bench press rather than seriously plan for their own survival. They probably still think the army is going to come back with cases of food and water any minute—or maybe the power will come back on like it did in Philly."

  "The power's back on in Philadelphia?" asked Ted. "Are you serious? How did you find out?"

  Roger raised his hand, ticking off answers on his fingers. "Yes, yes, and we talked with people moving south through the area—we're kind of civilized like that," replied Roger. He examined the crinkled ration wrapper in his hands.

  "I wish Martin was still alive. He was a Russian lit major. He could read this crazy writing they have and tell us what's in this stuff. I bet there's processed Siberian Tiger in there somewhere…"

  "Stay focused here, Roger," said Erik. "Where did these people come from?"

  "Well, Philly, of course. The refugees."

  "Wait—I thought you said they got the power back on there? Why would people leave after that?"

  "You don't get out much, do you?" asked Roger. "Where are you guys from?"

  "Florida," replied Erik.

  Roger nodded. "I see. That explains the Russian food." He narrowed his eyes. "Maybe you're Russians…"

  Erik looked at Ted. "If we were Russians, do you think you’d still be here eating our food and giving u slip?”

  Ted jumped in: “How do you know so much about what’s going on out there if you don’t have any electricity or active comms?”

  Roger held is finger up. "We may not have electricity in our buildings, but no one ever said we didn't have power. That's the only thing keeping us safe from the other two groups. The Professor had us rig up solar panels and all sorts of stuff. We have radios and lights and refrigerators, all the conveniences of modern man," Roger finished with a sarcastic chortle.

  "You have a radio."

  Roger looked at Ted. "Yes! Give that man a cookie. Actually, give this man a cookie, if you have one. Do you?"

  "No," said Erik in a flat voice.

  "Oh. Well, but yes, we have a radio," Roger continued, fidgeting with the water bottle. He squeezed it and made it crackle, then flexed it again. "We've been listening to the international efforts to help out. You know, the U.N. mission. I'm not surprised you guys have that Russian stuff—they're taking the lead on the humanitarian front."

  "Humanitarian front…?" sputtered Brin. "Russians?"

  Erik reached out and put a hand on Brin's arm. She blinked and looked ready to spit nails but closed her mouth at his nod. "I'm going…I'm going to go check on Lindsay," she said and left the room.

  "She okay?" asked Roger after Brin left.

  "She's fine," replied Erik with a warning look at his wife.

  “For now,” added Brin, crossing her arms.

  Erik sighed and looked away. Really?

  "What else have you heard?" asked Ted quickly.

  "Well,” Roger said slowly, watching Brin make a face at Erik. “Uh…the Russians and the U.N., they’re like, sending over food and supplies, you know? But there's still pockets of people out there who think they're invading.” Roger exhaled.

  “They're just clinging to their Bibles and guns—you know, crazy people. They haven't gotten with the times—this a new world, man. Things
are different now. We have to be able to accept a handout from our fellow citizens of the world…" Roger paused. "You guys are looking at me like I just stepped off a ship from Mars."

  Erik spoke first. "It's just…well, we haven't heard anything from the outside world in so long…It's kind of hard to take in all these changes at once, you know?"

  Roger nodded with sagacity. "I understand. Sometimes I forget what we have here is so much more than most people have out there. I heard Florida is worse off than most. They said a pretty badass hurricane came through just after the power grid failed and really set you folks back to the Dark Ages."

  “A hurricane?” Ted muttered. He glanced at Erik, saw the warning look in his eyes and closed his mouth.

  "You have no idea," said Erik.

  "It must have been a relief to see the Russians show up with food and water," Roger added.

  "We were very grateful for their food," agreed Erik carefully. "Even if it does taste a little strange."

  Roger laughed. "See? That's the kind of attitude we need to have as a country going forward. We're not the leader of the world anymore,” he said, scratching at his beard. “When the power grid went down, we stepped into a time machine. We're back in the 1800s while the rest of the world is still in the twenty-first century. It's a real mind job, but there it is, man."

  Brin came downstairs and motioned for Ted to talk privately. Erik took the lead with Roger. "So, uh, tell me more about the Jocks. They're kind of like your arch-enemies or something, right?"

  Roger sighed. "Well, not as much as the Rebels. Those guys are just plain nuts. They're zealots. There's no talking or reasoning with them. At least the Jocks can appreciate what a truce means. Or they did, up until today."

  "You have a truce with them?"

  "Had a truce with them," said Roger. He sighed. "It'll take some pretty good talking to justify their sudden attack this morning. Those shops were cleared out a month ago—and they know it. That's the only reason I escaped—"

  "You escaped? You were a prisoner?"

  "Yeah, that's why Tammy was surprised to see me alive. They took me in a raid back in September. Far as I know, I'm the only one who ever made it back to safety."