Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3)

by Marcus Richardson

  Hakim stood and adjusted his pack, shifting the extra weight to a comfortable position. He reached inside his pants pocket and pulled out a crumpled, sweat-stained map of the university. The science and engineering buildings had been circled in red ink. They were the first places he'd look for radioactive material. He took his bearings from the street signs and walked off to find his bomb.

  As he passed between two apartment buildings, he saw a girl's face peek out from behind curtains and then vanish almost as quickly as she had appeared. Hakim paused, squinting up in the sun at the shaded window. He felt a familiar stirring and for a split second thought Saldid might've been onto something regarding the college girls. His breath quickened, thinking of what might await him inside that building.

  A cloud passed overhead, casting Hakim in shadow. He frowned at the window. No. That way lies distraction and debauchery—sins in the eyes of Allah. I am mujahideen. I am here for nothing but the glory of Allah.

  Hakim turned and faced northeast again. This way lies my destiny.

  Chapter 54

  Ambush

  ERIK PICKED UP THE pipe and use it as a walking stick as he turned to leave the training grounds. His students had all packed up and moved off to find dinner. It was time for him to head back to the visitor's center.

  "Mr. Larsson!" a voice called out from behind him.

  Erik turned and watched another of the Professor’s acolytes trot toward him. "I'm glad I found you, I’ve been looking all over…" he panted.

  Erik arched an eyebrow. "I've been right here ever since lunch. What's going on?"

  The young man looked flushed, no doubt he’d run all the way from wherever the Professor was hiding today, intent on delivering his secret message like the famous Spartan of Marathon.

  "It's…" he doubled over and clutched his knees to suck wind.

  Erik laughed. "Hey, catch your breath—just take a minute." He watched the others stroll off, casting glances over their shoulders at him. One or two of them pointed at the buildings as they passed and the group fell to arguing. Erik smiled. Maybe they weren’t so helpless after all.

  "Okay…okay, I think I can breathe now…" the young man said as he straightened and wiped the hair off his forehead. He flashed a grin. "I have a message from the Professor," he said.

  Of course you do. Erik spread his arms wide. "I'm all ears," he said with a smile.

  "Okay. The Professor says there's a……" the kid's eyes darted away from Erik to the right. He looked down at the ground and looked back at Erik. "I mean there's some more buildings that need attention—"

  Erik kept a tight hold on the suspicion that grew in his mind. He kept his voice level. "Yeah, you guys got a lot of buildings that need help. But, it’s time for dinner so—"

  "That's just it, one of the buildings is the dining hall. He wants that one checked first—by you, not by students—"

  Erik leaned on his pipe. "Now? It’s dinnertime, everybody's heading inside…" Erik looked around the empty quad. No birds chirped and only a very slight breeze ruffled a few leaves on the ground. The brightly colored trees stood still.

  "Is there some sort of threat I don’t know about?"

  The student hesitated for just a second before nodding vigorously. "Yes! A threat, exactly—that's what he said," he said, the words tumbling out swiftly. "Look, I don't know why, I just know that he said to give you this message. If I was you," the student said in a more imperious tone in imitation of the Professor, "I’d do as he asked. He's been right about everything so far—I think he's right about this, too."

  Erik held the pipe at his waist with both hands, letting it lay across his hips. "Is it the Jocks? Or the Rebels—who's making the move? Is it tonight?"

  The younger man's eyes flicked away from Erik again. A fresh sheen of sweat broke out on his forehead. Erik suspected by how fast he recovered his breath the kid hadn’t been running all that far.

  Why are you so nervous, kid?

  Erik looked on while the kid rambled, stumbling over his own words about the threats they all faced—Erik recognized the same skewed spiel the Professor gave him on their first day.

  As he continued to watch the young man, his suspicions grew. This kid is really nervous about something.

  Erik had enough. He raised a hand to stop the tirade. "Look, before I go anywhere, I need to check in with—"

  "No!" the student said abruptly. He collected himself for a second and stepped back as if he'd just slapped a tiger. "I mean—that will not be necessary. Look. I'm not good at this sort of thing, okay? All I know is the Professor said you’re supposed to go to the dining hall, right now. I’m just a freshman—I never even started school before everything went crazy. Please don't screw this up for me, okay? If I do a good job, he’ll make me an official messenger…"

  Erik squinted one eye at the student. "Really? What exactly do messengers do all day—and what exactly does a messenger get out of it?"

  Color crept up the kid’s neck before him. "Messengers are very important. We…take…"

  "Messages," prompted Erik. “I got that part. To who?”

  The kids nodded. "Back and forth between the Professor and his subordinates."

  The kid rattled on about how important the task of a messenger was, making himself out to be some sort of Mercury incarnate as Erik pondered whether Dr. Norris would appreciate being labeled a subordinate. He rather doubted it, given the man's prickly nature. He seemed to think he ran the south campus on his own and was more of a partner than a follower.

  After a few moments Erik held his hand up and smiled. "Okay, okay. I got it, Hermes. Go on back to the Professor and tell him I'm on my way,” he said with a sigh.

  Relief washed over the kid’s face like he’d just finished his final exams. He smiled, offered his thanks, then turned and sprinted away. Erik stood there watching him, shaking his head.

  I sure hope I wasn’t that stupid when I was a freshman.

  Erik picked up his pipe and walked straight toward the visitor's center, cutting across the open space in the quad. No way in hell he was heading to the dining hall. Whatever that kid was—whether he was a messenger or not—he was a terrible liar.

  Erik saw right through the thinly veiled attempt to get him to go to the dining hall with everyone else. All the Professor's people knew Erik and his group tended to eat together in the visitor's center. They’d only taken one communal meal together and that had been quite enough for Ted to bar his children from ever seeing that cultish scenario again.

  The Professor had held court along a group of tables put together inside one of the dining hall. Everyone sat in a row and waited with bowed heads as he stood and gave a short speech about the merits of community organization, pulling together for the common man—a long diatribe about all for one and one for all…

  “A load of bullshit,” Ted had called it.

  That had been on the second day. Now, it'd become customary for Erik, Ted, Brin, and the kids to simply return to the visitor's center at mealtime and eat food that one of them had picked up earlier in the dining hall.

  Regardless, the Professor's group remained more than generous with their food. As a result, Erik and the rest of them had eaten more fresh vegetables and canned meat than they had in the past few months. Already, he felt stronger and healthier than he had since they’d been captured by the Russians. It was amazing what six good meals and plenty of water could do for someone.

  Whatever they think I am, surely they can’t think I’m stupid enough to fall for whatever it was that kid was selling. First thing I'm going to do is head straight to the…

  As Erik rounded the corner of a small science building just before the library, he saw Brin rushing toward him in the distance.

  Erik leaned forward and cocked his head trying to catch her voice on the slight breeze. He heard his name and saw by the way she was running that whatever the message was, it was urgent.

  Sneaky little bastards, trying to get me to stay away
are they? We'll see about that. Erik took one step toward his wife when he felt something slip around his neck and tightened like a boa constrictor around his windpipe. Erik dropped his pipe, and both hands flew to rope around this throat.

  Someone yanked on the cord and like a dog on a leash, Erik fell backward to the ground with a grunt of pain. He thrashed out with his arms and legs, attempting to catch some of his unknown attackers off guard. He was on his back—unarmed, with what felt like a noose around his neck—easily one of the most dangerous situations he could imagine.

  Erik successfully dug a few fingers under the rope and pulled hard to give himself just enough room to snatch a ragged breath before it tightened again, threatening to break his fingers against his throat. Panic rose in his chest. Another few seconds of that bone crushing tension and his windpipe would collapse.

  "Pull!" someone yelled. The rope tightened.

  Erik heard Brin screaming and saw several sets of feet on the dried leaves that carpeted the ground around him. The panic that had risen inside him at the thought of the Professor’s subterfuge flared into rage. Not only had they attacked him and tried to keep him from his group, but now they going after his wife.

  Erik had one immediate concern: get the damn rope off his neck. He rolled to his side, one hand clutching the front of his throat. He tried to pull the rope free as he slipped a hand behind his head, feeling along the length of the thick rope for a knot.

  There. It felt crude and loose—not surprising considering the thickness of the rope. Whoever attacked him must have assumed a thicker rope meant a stronger noose. Erik rolled to his other side and prepared for the inevitable blows to the face as he felt the ground tremble with approaching footsteps.

  He turned his head to the side and tried to tuck his neck into the hollow space between his left clavicle and shoulder. It provided just enough gap for him slip his right thumb underneath the rope and pull in a quick gasp of air.

  "Hurry up and tighten it!" someone hissed. "Get on him!"

  “I’m trying—this shit is too thick!” whined a girl’s voice. “Who got this anyway?”

  "Look at her—his chick just wrecked Andy's ass!"

  "Help me take care of this guy—they can handle her."

  As his would-be attackers argued amongst themselves, Erik used their hesitation to fumble at the awkward knot behind his head. Someone jerked the rope out of his hand and the knot tightened just a little. He cursed inwardly and decided enough was enough.

  He grabbed the taut line leading away from his neck and pulled forward with as much strength as he could muster. A surprised squeak erupted behind him followed by the sound of someone hitting the ground. The rope slackened immediately and Erik grabbed the entire knot in his hand and pulled backward. That put an inordinate amount of pressure on the front of his throat, but the end result was what he'd expected—whoever had tied it made a simple slipknot, not a true noose. The knot slid backwards, just enough for Erik to get his fist under the front side and take a deep breath.

  The air situation temporarily resolved, Erik narrowed his eyes. He away from the sound of the arguing voices and stood at the same time as the girl holding the rope. It was Tammy.

  Her eyes as big as teacups, Roger’s girlfriend held the rope loosely in her hands and took a hesitant step back. "Uh, guys?"

  Really? I should have shot your ass.

  Erik held the rope in one hand, the other still held gripped the coil around his neck. He yanked and watched the rope snap out of the girl’s hands. Pivoting, he spotted three students engrossed in watching Brin beat the tar out of her attackers.

  One of them turned, "What?" he snapped. His eyes found Erik, and he took a step back, bumping into his comrades.

  "Watch it!"

  "Guys!" Tammy shouted. "Look out!"

  All three turned in time to see Erik drop the rope from his neck to the ground.

  "Somebody want to tell me what the fuck is going on here?" Erik rasped. His voice sounded like he'd just risen from the grave.

  "Shit!" cried the first to recover. "Get him!"

  "For the Professor!" screamed the second one.

  "For survival!" screamed the third.

  Erik actually took a step back as the kids charged him. With those words screamed as a battle cry, the three kids rushed Erik at once while Tammy shrieked behind him like a banshee on the warpath.

  Shit.

  Chapter 55

  Fight or Flight

  ERIK LOWERED HIS SHOULDERS and took a quick assessment of the situation. Three male students ran at him—one slightly to his left, one straight on, and one to his right. Behind him, Tammy shouted a blood-curdling scream.

  Instinct told him that the largest of the three attackers in front of him was his prime threat. So as the attackers drew within range, he pivoted on his left foot and landed a front kick square on the biggest one’s chest.

  The kick stopped him in midair as if he'd run into a brick wall. Erik felt a satisfying impact under his boot. The kid grunted and collapsed.

  The downside to his strategy was the other two were already on him. He heard more than felt Tammy land on his back from behind—they'd caught him unbalanced on one leg.

  Erik knew he was going down, but with the largest of his attackers already out of the fight, he felt he had a decent chance. As the three attackers pulled him over, he caught a glimpse of Brin squaring off against two attackers of her own.

  A third lay face down in the dirt at Brin’s feet. Her eyes met his and for a second, absolute fear flashed across her face as she saw Erik go down under three assailants.

  Erik heard her scream his name before he crashed into the dirt, then the world descended into muffled grunts and curses as his attackers ground his face into the dirt with their feet.

  The blows and kicks rained down. While keeping his left arm tucked around his face and neck as best he could, Erik snatched the first foot that came near his chin and pulled with all his might. The foot’s owner kissed the dirt with a grunt.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Erik saw the last male fly toward him, one knee extended. This kid's been watching too much wrestling on TV.

  He exhaled and turned his midsection into a muscular, hardened wall to block the incoming blow. That didn't stop the pain when the kid crashed into him—Erik saw stars and the world faded from his view for a split second—but he knew nothing had been broken. He counted himself lucky he'd only have a large bruise across his ribs and stomach.

  The kid had shown initiative by dropping the full weight of his body like that on top of Erik. If he'd caught Erik by surprise, the blow would have been devastating. As it was, Erik was positioned just right to deflect most of the impact into the ground.

  Erik took full advantage of the kid's proximity and grabbed a fistful of unruly brown hair. Using the student's awkward position on one knee to his advantage, Erik pulled down hard and smashed the kid's face into the ground. Ignoring Tammy, he rolled to his knees and drove his left elbow right into the lower back of the closest male attacker.

  The student whimpered and went limp, slapping at the ground with his free hand.

  Erik got to his feet, breathing hard but still in the fight. He saw Brin not 30 feet away in somewhat of a stalemate with her two attackers. Each one had taken hold of one of her hands and they'd stretched her arms apart. When she saw Erik on his feet, she called his name once more, drawing the attention of both her attackers toward him.

  Dumbasses, Erik thought with a grin.

  The ruse worked. Using the tension on her arms as a balance point, Brin connected her left foot with the groin of the man on her right. As he crumpled, she twisted her hips and kicked backward like a horse.

  She may have missed her target, but the kick had the desired result. In less than two seconds, both her attackers were doubled over sucking wind. She twisted her wrists and slipped her arms free with little effort.

  As one student tried to stand, sputtering for air, he reached out and grabbed
hold of her shoulder. Brin punched him straight in the throat and spun, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she dropped her upper torso. The kid found himself flat on the ground next to his two comrades.

  Erik opened his mouth to say something when Tammy landed on his back again, the force of the impact causing him to stagger forward. A hand grasped at his hair and yanked hard, sending a bolt of pain down his spine as his head jerked back.

  He reached back with his left hand as she found his face. Ignoring the flash of pain and the sound of tearing skin as her fingernails raked his cheek, his fingers found the soft flesh under her jaw and squeezed.

  She gurgled a gasp of surprise and relaxed her grip just enough for Erik to fling her off his back. A muffled whimper escaped her lips as she crashed into the unconscious form of one of her partners.

  Erik, now on his feet, was left facing one attacker. The biggest one, who had gone down at the onset with a kick, tried to get to his knees. Erik easily blocked the kid's first telegraphed punch and countered with a right uppercut to the gut.

  As the student doubled over, Erik swung his left fist forward and connected with the side of the thug's head. He wasn't aiming to kill anybody—they were just students after all—but they needed to be taught a lesson.

  He heard a loud smack behind him and Brin's triumphant shout: "Kiai!" Her fight was over. Erik let a smile crease his bloodied, stinging face.

  The last remaining assailant looked at the ground at Erik's feet and took in the unconscious bodies of his friends. "You son of a bitch," he growled.

  "What was that?" Erik rasped. He scooped up the pipe and swung it in a whistling arc around his shoulders. "Come over here and say that again."

  The student flashed a murderous glance at Erik before he turned and sprinted off toward one of the dorms. Erik followed him with his eyes and spotted a knot students in front of the building, watching and pointing in his direction.

  Looks like discretion might be the better part of valor after all…

  He turned and crashed straight into Brin. She talked rapidly, asking if the he was okay, trying to assure him she was unhurt. Finally, Erik grabbed her and planted a kiss on her lips. Brin resisted at first, then melted into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck. They stood that way until the moment passed and he gently released her. She held onto his neck for a second longer before stepping back.