Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3)

by Marcus Richardson

  They came to the border after all. Nella was right.

  Stapleton stepped back out into the humid air and let his eyes adjust. He found Malcolm sitting by the ramp again, hands over his face. His boots clicked off the ramp as he exited and stood in the grass before the defeated rebel leader who'd caused so much death and destruction.

  And it's only been six months since you raised the flag of rebellion.

  Stapleton crossed his arms. "Malcolm Abdul Rashid. On your feet."

  Malcolm stood. His body looked defeated but the steel in his eyes betrayed his inner strength.

  "I have one question for you. Did you come south to join forces with the Russians?"

  The anger that exploded across Malcolm's face answered his question before the outraged response. "At first, yes! Then those animals attacked us. The women and children—we—"

  Stapleton held his hand up to stop the tirade. "That's enough. I believe you." He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. "You will be placed in military custody until such time as you can be safely transported to Washington, where you will face justice."

  Malcolm blinked. "You are not going to shoot me?"

  Stapleton stared at him. "No. What do you think I am, some kind of barbarian? You'll face justice later, at the hands of the civil authorities—whoever the hell that turns out to be. I have to fight these Russian bastards now."

  "What about my people?"

  Stapleton turned to look at the pathetic mass of humanity clustered around his scouts. "They will be given food, water, and medical attention, then transported north. It's up to the politicians to decide their fates. Though I wouldn't be surprised to see them pardoned in exchange for service against the Russians or Chinese—but that’s just my opinion." Stapleton pulled the cigar from his mouth and pointed the stub at his most important prisoner.

  "Frankly, I don't care what happens to them. I was tasked with ending your rebellion by whatever means necessary. I have, as of this moment, completed my mission. Now I must proceed with my sworn duty to defend the nation from external enemies. Excuse me."

  “Where are you going?" Malcolm called out as Stapleton stormed back to his command Stryker.

  He turned and lit his cigar, inhaling the bittersweet smoke. Stapleton savored the taste for a few moments as his mobilization order trickled down to the nearby units.

  They upped their pace and shouted at prisoners to keep moving north with a lot more urgency. Vehicles roared to life and took up defensive formations across the six-lanes of interstate.

  A far off rumble, accompanied by the faintest of tremors felt through the soles of his boots announced the imminent arrival of his tanks.

  He puffed the cigar and squinted through the smoke at Malcolm. "We may not like each other—hell, we may hate each other, you and I—but we're both still part of the big dysfunctional family they call America." He blew the gray-blue smoke out his mouth and examined his stogie.

  "No one comes into my house uninvited and pushes my family around," he growled, watching Malcolm. "No one."

  "But…" Malcolm said, confusion clouding his face as much as cigar smoke.

  Stapleton grinned. "I'm going to go kick some Russian ass."

  Chapter 67

  Offense

  TED CLOSED THE BUILDING'S rear door behind Erik. The two of them crouched in the sun at the corner. Distant voices echoed on the breeze between structures. Erik turned to Ted.

  "So how's this going to go down?" he whispered.

  Ted indicated the road with his hand. "Those guys are coming toward us from the left. Maggie said she was only going a couple shops up the street. They could be on her before we reach her. I'll shift to this building next door, to keep their attention away from Brin and the kids. You see if you can run down the back alley and stay even with them." He hefted the rifle.

  "I'll draw their attention with this. When they stop, you step out from the side with the XD and collect their weapons. Once we have them under control, we can interrogate them."

  Erik shifted his grip on the pistol. He pulled back the slide, checked the round in the chamber and made sure the safety was off.

  "That easy?"

  Ted stood up and paused, listening to a distant echo of laughter. "That easy. These jokers think they own this town. They're completely at ease." Ted peeked around the corner. "Coast is still clear. You ready?"

  Erik stood next to the marine. "Ready as I'll ever be," he said. He took a deep breath and waited.

  Ted watched the street. He motioned north. "Go." Without waiting, he sprinted around the corner and dashed across the narrow alley to position himself at the front corner of the adjacent building.

  Erik scrambled through the gravel as quietly as he could, moving behind the next building, pausing only at the corner to make sure the road was still clear. He heard two distinct voices echoing out in the street now, one of them laughing. They were still out of sight.

  He exhaled and sprinted across the next alley, repeating the process two more times. Hoping he was far enough, Erik found the target building had a bush planted by the front corner that should give him enough cover to surprise the men. He scrambled along the side of the building, hoping they didn't appear while he was exposed.

  "… funny as shit, man. I never knew you had so many stories."

  The voices were clear now. Erik shuffled the last few feet to get behind the cover of the bush. He crouched down, pistol held in both hands and pointed at the ground. His heart thudded in his chest like thunder and his breath came fast and shallow. He closed his eyes and willed himself to stay calm.

  "Yeah well, I was in C Block. You know what they say about C block?" said a distinctly older voice.

  "What's that?" asked the other.

  “Nothin’—you don’t say shit in C Block.”

  Erik grimaced as the two men laughed, casually strolling down the street. Through the small leaves of the dense bush, Erik caught glimpses of their legs as they approached. They were no more than 15 feet away.

  He heard their shoes on the asphalt. If either of them pointed his shotgun at Erik and pulled the trigger, he was as good as dead.

  As the two strangers approached, Erik felt more naked than ever, despite the concealment of the shrubbery. He kept his eyes on the targets and slowly raised his pistol, only moving as they took steps. They drew even with him, still talking about prison life.

  Ex-cons. Great.

  As they passed him, the conversation changed to grumbling about their current duty. "…bullshit and you know it."

  "Ain't that the truth? Ol' Spike still mad at you for gettin' that choice piece of ass, huh?" the older man chuckled.

  "It wasn't my fault!" the younger one argued as they passed Erik. "She was practically begging me for it!"

  The older man laughed. "Man, only reason Spike was mad cause she was a virgin! She weren't beggin' for shit 'cept for you to stop!"

  The two of them laughed again.

  "That's far enough!" Ted's voice called out down the street. He sounded a lot further away than Erik expected.

  The two men froze, neither one of them bothered to raise their shotguns. One corner of Erik's mouth curled up. Ted was right—they were overconfident. They thought they owned Ticonderoga and never expected someone to challenge them.

  "Drop those boomsticks before I drop your asses," Ted commanded.

  Erik ever so slowly sidestepped around the bush until he was able to raise his weapon and draw a clear bead on the nearest convict. He waited for them to drop their weapons. Even if Ted got one, if Erik rushed to soon, one lucky blast of a shotgun would end everything.

  "Who the fuck said that?" asked the old man.

  Erik held the pistol in slightly trembling hands and checked the safety was still off, keeping his finger on the outside of the guard. The younger man slowly moved his shotgun into a ready position. Erik's hands steadied as he lined up the sights on the side of the man's head.

  Only 15 feet away. You can do this
.

  "I'm only going to say it one more time," Ted's voice called out, full of confidence and command. "You move another inch and I will excavate your cranium. Drop your fucking guns. Now!"

  The two convicts froze and looked at each other. "Whaddya think?" whispered the younger man. “Let’s take ‘im.”

  “I don’t know,” mumbled the old man.

  Erik moved out from behind his cover. What the hell am I doing this for?

  "We have you surrounded!" he shouted.

  The sound of another man's voice, strong and clear from so close, startled both convicts. They spun to face Erik's position and Ted took the cue. He fired a single shot and a puff of asphalt exploded between the two of them.

  The older man had his hands in the air even as his shotgun clattered to the street. His younger partner's eyes locked on Erik, half-exposed in the bush.

  Erik felt a chill trickle down his spine. The eyes that stared at him were full of nothing but hate and loathing. The man looked capable of cutting Erik's heart out with spoon.

  That son of a bitch would do the same thing to Brin if given half a chance, a small voice whispered in Erik's mind. The trembling in Erik's hands stopped like he'd thrown a switch. Erik stood, blood thundering in his ears. He stepped forward with the gun pointed at the convict's head.

  Erik took another two steps. "Drop your weapon! Now!"

  "Better do it," said the older man. "Spike's cool and all, but I ain't dying for his shit." When his partner hesitated, the old man spoke louder. "His shotgun ain't loaded!"

  "You fuckin' snitch!" the younger man said, holding the shotgun in front of him like a club. His fingers tightened on the stock and barrel but Erik noticed the man didn't try to pull the trigger.

  "On the ground! Now! Drop your weapon—do it!" shouted Ted. Erik saw movement out of the corner of his eye as Ted raced across the street to the two men, rifle at his shoulder.

  "I don't want no trouble," called out the older one as he dropped to his knees. "I don't want to hurt nobody."

  The younger one, still in front of Erik, his eyes still blazing with hatred, detected the sound of Ted's boots on the pavement. He turned his head a fraction of an inch and froze. The appearance of a soldier was evidently the deciding factor. The younger man dropped his weapon and raised his hands.

  Ted didn't wait to command the younger man to join his friend on the ground. He kicked the younger convict behind the left knee, planted his rifle stock between his shoulders, and sent him to kiss the pavement.

  "Hey, man, you got any food?" asked the old man hopefully.

  "What?" asked Ted as he leveled his rifle at the back of the now prone younger man's head.

  "Food," pleaded the old man, hands still spread-eagle. "I ain't had me a good meal since breakfast—"

  "Look, I—" began Ted.

  "Yesterday."

  Ted looked at Erik. That was interesting.

  Erik kept the XD pointed at the younger man. He kicked the shotguns out of reach. Ted slung his rifle over his shoulder as Erik stepped back, covering the two prone men. Ted produced two cable ties from one of his pockets.

  "You always have those things on you?" asked Erik, irritated now that his hands began to tremble.

  "Don't leave home without them…" Ted mumbled as he zipped the younger man's wrists together behind his back. He ignored their protests and switched positions to straddle the older man.

  "Hey brother, take it easy okay—I ain't resisting," the older man whined. "I'll help you out if you got some food."

  "Shut the fuck up!" yelled his partner.

  "Take it easy, old-timer," Ted said as he cinched the man's wrists together with considerably less emphasis than his younger partner.

  Ted hopped off the older convict, swung his rifle back around to point squarely at the younger man's head. "Prisoners secure."

  "You're a dead man," hissed the young one. "Spike's gonna gut you like a fish."

  "Hell, I'm dead already—so are you—you just ain't figured it out yet," replied the old man. "But that don't mean I ain't hungry." He tried to crane his neck around to spot Ted. "How's about it, my man? I can tell you—"

  "Shut up!" yelled the young one. "Don't you tell 'em nothing!" Despite being bound hand and feet, he thrashed about trying to get at his partner. "Spike'll kill both of us!"

  Ted cleared his throat. "I don't know who the hell 'Spike' is, but I'm the one holding the fully automatic rifle. Now, I'm going to tell you one last time—shut your cock hole or I'll shut it for you."

  The younger guy opened his mouth and Ted's boot connected with his jaw. He ate the pavement for his trouble and glared at Ted, red faced and sweating.

  Erik stepped a few feet back, engaged the safety on his pistol and holstered it. He kneeled and picked up the shotguns, slinging both over his right shoulder. "Weapons secured."

  "You guys military or something?" asked the younger convict as he spat gravel out of his mouth.

  "Shut the fuck up, these dudes are special forces…" whispered the older one.

  Erik rolled his eyes as he stepped around the convicts well out of reach. "Here we go with this again…"

  "What the hell was that about?" whispered Ted once they'd stepped out of earshot of the bickering convicts. "I had this—you were supposed to come in at the end."

  "I don't know…I…the younger one looked like he was going for his—"

  "We had a plan, damn it." Ted glanced at the captives and frowned as they quietly continued to argue. "We stick to the plan. Haven't I taught you anything these last six months? Jesus, Erik.”

  "I was trying to—"

  "You're trying to get yourself killed!" hissed Ted. "Look, all that shit you said about not being able to pull the trigger, I get it—it happens, bro. I've seen it happen to the baddest of the bad over in the Sandbox. If you can't handle bullshit like this,” he said gesturing at the prisoners, “—if you ignore the plan then you throw all of us in danger. You get me?"

  Erik kept his eyes on the backs of the prisoners' heads. "I get you," he muttered.

  He ignored Ted as the marine explored their options: do they take the prisoners back inside the cobbler’s shop and interrogate them? Do they haul them to the van and interrogate them privately? Drive them into the woods and shoot them?

  As Ted weighed their options, Erik's attention shifted two miles east. His parents were out that way, threatened by the same scumbags—maybe even captured or…

  Erik closed his eyes and tightened his grip on the shotgun slings cutting into his shoulder. Don't think about it…don't think about it. Focus on Ted.

  Try as he might, Erik couldn't shake it—he was so close. He had to find out about his parents. He had to see for himself. His recent argument with Ted over the wisdom of a recon mission toward the lake came back into focus. Ted had moved up now to ask the prisoners questions. Erik stared at his friend's back as Ted’s rifle wavered between the two men on the ground.

  Ted's got this—it's now or never.

  Torn as he was between wanting to stay and protect Brin, deep down Erik knew if Ted was the one to disappear into the woods and another attack took place, it would be tougher to defend Brin, Lindsay, Teddy, and Lucy—and the baby—by himself. There was only one way to do it. Of the two of them, Erik knew he was the expendable one.

  If something happens to me…at least Brin will be okay. He'll make sure she gets to safety.

  A few seconds later, Erik found himself staring at the colorful leaves on the forest floor, just on the other side of the road. He looked east, toward the lake—toward home.

  A slight breeze rustled some dry leaves still clinging to the branches above. He turned back to face Ted. The marine was down on one knee, barrel of his rifle pressed into the back of the younger man's head. The convict's body had gone rigid with fear. The older man tried to wriggle away, his eyes closed as he whimpered protestations.

  Ted's already started the interrogation…

  Erik turned and took two
steps toward the side of the road. He paused, listening to Ted. "…the fuck do you think you're doing in this town? Who sent you?"

  Erik turned back. I can't do this. I can't leave him like this—he's got two prisoners…

  A door opened up the street and Maggie stepped out into the light, carrying a bulging backpack and an armful of paper. She froze at the sight of Ted standing in the street over two bound men. She turned and disappeared back into the building before reappearing with two older men, both of them armed. They hurried forward together calling out. Ted kept his rifle pressed into the back of the younger man's head and looked up at them, waving them over.

  Erik watched the quickly unfolding scene in silence. Though it was a clear day, no sound reached his ears. The only thing he heard was the thunderous roar of his own heart. It was decision time—now or never.

  If I don't do this now, I’ll never get another chance. If something happens…

  Erik saw Brin's face in the window over the cobbler's shop, she smiled, one hand pressed against the glass.

  I'm doing this for you.

  Erik quietly laid the shotguns down on the side of the road and sprinted for the trees.

  Chapter 68

  Mohican

  ERIK SLID DOWN THE ravine and slowed to a stop at the bottom, pausing only to get his bearings. The further away from town he ran, the more familiar the woods became. Before long—before he'd even broken a sweat—Erik had found one of the many game trails he'd traveled in his youth. The trees all looked smaller—or maybe he was just bigger—the hills and ravines seemed easier to traverse than when he'd been a teenager, but it was all the same.

  The land welcomed him home.

  The closer he got to the lake, the faster he pushed himself. He could feel the power of the historic body of water pulling him forward, propelling him through the trees, over the crusty snow still hidden between their cold trunks, and past downed branches and logs.