Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) (16 page)

Ted grabbed his rifle.
 
"Too late for that, let's go.
 
Just stay by me."
 
He glanced over his shoulder at Brin.
 
"I don't expect you to get up there and shoot anybody, just make a lot of noise and I promise they’ll keep their heads down.
 
Keep everybody back—don't let
anybody
in."

Brin nodded in silent assent, but didn't say a word.
 
Her eyes met Erik's.
 
"Be careful," she whispered.

Erik felt a warmth in his chest that hadn't been there since the prison camp.
 
He opened his mouth to say something when Ted grabbed his shoulder.
 

"Look—somebody's coming out!
 
We gotta move."

Erik turned back to Brin but she was already clambering up inside the turret.
 
Growling at fate, Erik threw the suicide door open, grabbed his rifle, and dropped down into a crouch.
 
He slammed the door and scrambled through the gravel, boots crunching as he moved behind the M-ATV.
 

"Okay, this is how it's going to go down," Ted said, peering around the corner.
 
"You stay with me, watch my six.
 
When the shooting starts, aim for the knees.
 
Got it?
 
We don't know who the hell these people are or why they're fighting each other, but there's no need for us to be killing anyone.
 
Sound good?"

Erik nodded.
 
He gripped his rifle and held it close to his chest.
 
"I got a bad feeling about this."

"He's coming down!" somebody shouted from the other side of the parking lot.

Ted quickly leaned around the corner.
 
"It's just some old man.
 
Get to the other side," he said waving Erik away without taking his eyes off the action at the front of the jail.

Erik scrambled around the rear of the M-ATV and brought his rifle up to aim at the front doors to the jail.
 
An old man in a disheveled suit shambled from the front door, looked around, his dark eyes blinking rapidly.
 
He had both hands up.
 

"Now, boys, hear me out…" the elderly black man said in a deep stentorian voice.
 
His eyes found the M-ATV, and he stared at the vehicle for a long moment.
 
He spotted Erik leaning around the rear of the vehicle.
 
The old man nodded.
 

"I don't know who you are, but I see you're soldiers.
 
That changes everything—I don't know what
 
Jonston told you, but it ain't the
truth
.
 
My name is—"

"We ain't here to talk!
 
Release the hostages or we're comin' in!" called out the sheriff on his loudspeaker.

This doesn't make any sense,
Erik thought.
 
This old guy doesn't look much like somebody who'd want to execute 27 women and children.
 
"Ted…"

"I know, wait one," replied the marine.

The old man kept his eyes locked on Erik's.
 
"Please!
 
Son, you've got to listen to me, things aren't what they appear—"

"I said we're not here to talk!
 
I'm gonna give you 15 seconds to open those doors and let out those hostages or were coming in."

The man on the front steps looked around with wide eyes.
 
Erik followed his gaze.
 
The parking lot was packed with trucks and men sporting rifles.

"I have proof!
 
Sheriff Jonston is not what he appears…" The man pulled back the left flap of his suit and reached for the inner pocket.

A shot rang out to Erik's right and a red splash of blood painted the door behind him.
 
The old man grunted with the impact then sank to his knees and collapsed face down on the ground.

"He was going for a gun!"
 
called out a voice to Erik's right.

"Let's get on 'em, boys!" the sheriff yelled through his loudspeaker.

Before Erik had time to think, silhouettes appeared on the roof.
 
Someone shouted about snipers, and the world exploded into battle.
 
Erik ducked back around the corner of the M-ATV as a bullet ricocheted off its thick hide.
 
The sheriff's men poured fire in toward the jail.
 
Shouts and curses flew, men screamed, glass shattered.
 
Behind him, Erik heard the bark of Ted's M4 on three-round burst mode.

"Erik!
 
Shoot back!" the marine shouted.
 
Pop-pop-pop.

Erik pulled the charging handle on his own rifle and braced himself to slip around the corner of the M-ATV.
 
Something held him back—even fighting the Russians, knowing that they were out to kill him, he never felt so nervous.
 
He clenched his jaw in frustration.
 

Come on, do it!
 
You've done this before!

"We're pinned down!
 
We gotta get rid of those men off the roof!"
 
A voice shouted.

"
Open up with that big gun y'all go
t," the sheriff's voice crackled over Erik's radio.
 
"
We gotta get inside!
"

"Brin!"
 
Ted shouted.
 
Pop-pop-pop.
 
"Do it!"

The M240 lit up the jail with a sound like thunder.
 
He watched in amazement as the attackers paused, taking in the spectacle.
 
Chunks of rock, broken bricks and mortar flew from the facade.
 
The roof line crumbled under the attack and the front windows exploded as Brin continued to lay into the building.
 
She swept the gun back and forth, peppering the entire length of the building.
 

It was exactly the break the attackers needed.
 
Sheriff Jonston ordered an advance.
 
Under the covering fire of Brin's machine gun, first one, then two, then handfuls of attackers jumped up from behind their cars and trucks and raced for the front door.

"Let's go Army boys!"
 
said the sheriff as he slapped the M-ATV.
 
His sudden appearance caused Erik to stumbled backward and fall.
 

"On your feet!”
 
The sheriff sprinted for the building.
 
“Now the fun
really
begins!" he called over his shoulder.

"That guy's sick," said Erik as he got up off the ground.

Fresh gunfire erupted from inside the building.
 
Ted pulled Erik aside.
 
"You stay by me, got it?"

Erik adjusted his helmet.
 
"Just like old times."

Ted and Erik rushed forward and stepped over fallen attackers.
 
They made it into the lobby of the jail and took cover behind the receiving desk.
 
Gunfire erupted deeper inside the building.
 

Brin's attack had completely shredded the front offices and ruptured the bullet proof glass surrounding the receiving desk.
 
Glass, bits of wood, and chunks of desks lay strewn all across the floor.
 
Splatters of blood and more than a few bodies lay crumpled at random locations around the room.
 
One of the men Erik remembered seeing in the pickup trucks popped up behind an overturned desk to his right.
 

"We got ‘em on the run now!
 
Won’t be much longer!"
 
The big gap-toothed grin on the man's face disappeared in a spray of pink as he took a round to the forehead and disappeared behind the desk.

“Moving!
 
Cover me," barked Ted.
 
"Get down!"

Ted had just enough time to scramble across the room and slide behind the next desk.
 
Ineffectual shots from the other side of the room peppered the wall behind Erik.
 
Ted peeked around the corner and then looked back at Erik.
 

"Go, go, go!"
 
he shouted before firing.

Erik dropped into a crouch and scrambled to the adjoining desk while Ted fired off a string of lead downrange.
 
He slid through the debris on the floor and came to a stop against the far wall.
 
Bullets splintered the upturned desks around him and sent papers and office supplies flying like shrapnel.

Erik's radio broke squelch: "
Johnny, pull your men to the left!
 
We got ‘em pinned down by the holding cells!
"
 
called out the sheriff.

The gunfire coming from the interior of the building slackened, but someone was determined to shoot through Erik's desk.
 
He felt it shudder with each impact.
 

"I'm pinned down!" he called out to Ted.

Ted fired down the hallway.
 
He flipped back around his own desk and stared at Erik as more bullets were sent back their way.
 

"Just stay down…I can't get a good bead on the shooter."

Screams replaced the gunfire down the hallway. "That's gotta be the hostages," Erik said.

"
No!
 
Stop them, they're going after the hostages!
"
 
called out the sheriff.

Something sounded off about the last transmission.
 
It was stiff—almost like the sheriff had read something off a script.
 
Erik gripped his rifle
 
It didn’t matter—innocent people, women and children were trapped in the crosshairs.
 

"We've got to get past this guy, he's keeping us from helping!" he yelled.

The look on Ted's face caused him to pause.
 
The marine simply shook his head.
 
"We need to get out of here."

Erik adjusted his helmet.
 
"What?"
 
He looked out the ruined windows of the front lobby, to the M-ATV waiting in the parking lot.
 
The turret swiveled back and forth as Brin searched for targets on the roof.
 

Bullets peppered the top of the desk again.
 
Erik ducked back down.
 

"
God dammit…"
muttered the sheriff.
 
"
Cease-fire!
 
Cease fire!"

Silence settled onto the ruined jail.
 
Ted risked a glance around the side of the desk. "Shooter's gone," he reported, "let's move."

"But—the hostages…?"
 

"If I'm right, this was all a setup.
 
Come on."
 
Ted turned and walked from the room as if nothing had happened.
 
"Follow me, stay close, and watch our six.
 
We need to get back to the matvee."
 
He squeezed the radio on his vest.
 

“Brin.”

“Yeah?”

“We’re coming out and heading straight for the matvee.
 
I need you to cover us.
 
Don’t hesitate to shoot—we may need some serious backup.”

“What’s going on?
 
Are you okay?”

Ted paused at the corner, peering along the corridor.
 
“Fill you in when we get back.
 
Just watch for us.”

“You may want to hurry up.
 
It’s getting…weird…out here.”

When they emerged into the sunlight on the front steps of the jail, Erik and Ted were brought up short at the scene before them.
 
The sheriff had his arms in the air trying to calm a large crowd of citizens who had gathered in the parking lot.
 

"How did he get out here so fast?" asked Erik.

Ted glared at him.
 
"I was right," he muttered.
 
"Come on."

The crowd chanted.
 
They screamed and shouted—so many at once, Erik couldn't tell what they said, but it was obvious they were mad—really mad.

Erik followed Ted out of the jail.
 
They held their weapons ready as the other survivors of the gunfight spread out in a protective barrier around the sheriff.
 
The looks they gave the crowd told Erik they were nervous.
 
That wasn’t a good sign.

"Folks, folks!
 
Listen to me!"

"Angle right.
 
There's a gap over there," Ted said, indicating a break in the crowd.
 
They still had thirty feet to make it to safety.

"We're done listening!
 
You're a murderer!" someone shouted in the front row.

Erik sensed the men in front of the jail would be hard-pressed to keep the crowd back much longer.
 
He glanced at the M-ATV—Brin looked nervous in the turret.

"Brin, you okay?"
 
Erik whispered into his radio.

"Yeah, what the hell is going on out there?
 
Hurry up and get over here!"

Ted leaned into Erik's radio, "Just stay sharp and keep an eye on the kids."
 
Ted scanned the crowd.
 
“We can’t get back to the matvee yet.
 
Keep your eyes open.”

“God—be careful, you two.”

"There they are!
 
There's those two sons of bitches he brought in!"

"He's got the army on his side now!" someone else shouted.
 
“We gotta put a stop to this!”

Erik and Ted looked at each other and then glanced at the sheriff who stared at them with a predatory smile on his face.