Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) (18 page)

BOOK: Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3)
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After all, Mexico, the proxy that facilitated his movement across the Gulf and back into the America, was in cahoots with China thanks to a brokered deal by his own people. Russia was also semi-attached to the whole enterprise, though they always did things their own way. They were on the same side—they all shared a common enemy in the United States—but the Russians were proving to be most unpredictable.

Hakim kept his hands up along with the others as Russian guards yelled and aimed weapons at all the passengers disembarking.
 
They lined everyone up at gunpoint and forced them to stand in the sun, sweating with their luggage.
 
A pair of Russians moved down the line, checking paperwork and verifying identification.

An officer, armed with only a pistol and a clipboard interviewed each person in passable Spanish. Immediately behind him was a stern-faced soldier with an AK-47 held at the ready across his chest.

Hakim caught Saldid's bloodshot eyes.
Follow my lead.
His partner nodded. They had spent enough time together causing mayhem and destruction in Arizona to know exactly what the other was thinking.

As Fistbrothers, their entire mission was to spread discord, chaos, and destruction. Being interrogated at border checkpoints by an occupying army of foreigners was not part of the plan.
 

Their only task for the day was to link up with brothers in arms at a safe house in Tampa. The Fist had used the invasion-induced chaos to sneak in hundreds of operatives and gather sleeper cells from all over the state in preparation for the next major offensive.

Hakim would not be held up because the Russians decided to throw their weight around and put on a show for the Chinese over who controlled Florida.

At last it was his turn. The sweating, pink-faced officer stood before Hakim and stared at him with hard, cruel blue eyes. He looked down at his clipboard and mumbled something in terrible Spanish.

Hakim waited a split second for Saldid to clear his throat. The guard shifted to the right to see around his officer.
 
Hakim chose that moment to step forward, draw his knife and stab the officer in his throat.
 

At the same time, his left hand reached for the officer's gun.
 
He tilted the entire holster toward the stunned guard and pulled the trigger four times, destroying the holster and the soldier's right knee in the process.
 

In less than five seconds it was over. Hakim pulled the pistol free and fired two times into the air, scattering the stunned passengers in every direction.
 
Saldid unstrapped the soldier’s AK-47 and shot the crippled man point blank in the face as he begged for his life in broken English.

"We are the Fist," Saldid said, wiping splattered blood
 
from his face.
 
"Do not expect mercy—you Russians should know us better than that." He spat on the corpse.

Hakim shouldered his backpack. "Come. We must hurry. This unfortunate delay will set back our schedule. Besides, the Russians will send reinforcements."

Saldid stared at the bodies and sneered.
 
"They're not so hard to kill, just as soft as the Americans."

Hakim looked askance at his partner as they ran for the shipping dock's exit. "Don't be overconfident, my friend. The Russians proved how hard they could be in Afghanistan. I doubt little has changed."

They reached the exit gate and sprinted across the street, ducking behind a dilapidated old cigar warehouse with peeling paint and a crumbling plaster exterior. No sooner had they disappeared around the corner than the first sirens wailed and two Russian armored vehicles roared past them, heavy tires chirping on the pavement as they raced for the docks.

"That was faster than I expected," Hakim said. "We must be cautious—the Slavic dogs are on edge."

"I wouldn't mind taking a shot," said Saldid, raising the AK-47 to his shoulder. He took aim at the rear of one of the receding vehicles.

Saldid slapped the barrel down before his partner could fire. "Are you
mad?
That thing is full of soldiers!
 
Our mission is just beginning—I will not fail now."

Saldid swallowed and nodded at Hakim's vehement outburst.
 
"For the Fist."

Hakim nodded. "For the Fist."
 
He clapped his partner on the shoulder and smiled.
 
"Come." The two ran in a haphazard diagonal pattern, crossing deserted streets and dodging piles of trash and debris as they made their way from the relatively undamaged docks into the heavily burned central district called Ybor City.
 

The Russians had laid waste to Tampa during the conquest and their patrols roamed the streets like a plague of rats. Hakim grew more frustrated as the afternoon wore on. They had to stop every 15 minutes or so and take cover as another troop carrier rumbled down the street.
 
In other areas, soldiers walked on foot, ready to fire at anything that moved.

They saw not a single civilian the entire time, but the Russians were as numerous as flies on fresh camel droppings.
 
Close to sunset, exhausted from their long trek across the ruined city, they finally reached the safe house.
 

Hakim approached the rear door, his eyes scanning for threats on either side of the small hacienda. Saldid walked backward, covering them with the AK-47.

Before Hakim reached the door, it opened and a man with a rather crooked nose perched above a scraggly beard met him with a wide smile.
 

"Welcome brothers. We've been expecting you."

Hakim knew better than to just embrace the stranger. Though they worked on the same side, they had never met—it was the way of the Fist. Saldid raised his right arm, pulling the sleeve down to reveal a small Sanskrit tattoo. It read '
the fist
'.
 

The man in the doorway raised his left arm and pulled his own sleeve down. A faded tattoo, also in Sanskrit, read '
the way of'
. They placed their elbows and wrists together, creating the sentence 'The way of the Fist'. Only then did Hakim embrace the man as a true brother in arms.

"I am Arad Zarin. Hurry, come inside—the others are waiting."

"When do we strike?" asked Hakim as the door shut behind them, throwing the trio into darkness.

"Tonight," replied Zarin as he led the way deeper into the house.
 
"We had planned to attack tomorrow, but the Russians have given us too good an opportunity to pass up."

"What?" asked Hakim.

Zarin turned and flashed a smile.
 
"A
 
prisoner exchange will be taking place—American soldiers are being held on the other side of town."
 
He lit a kerosene camping lantern and held it up, examining his guests by the soft glow.
 

"We know the facility, it is loosely guarded—the Americans are not bothering to fight, believing they will be transferred home.
 
We bribed an official to give us word of the exact time of this exchange."

"Sounds easy," Saldid grunted.
 
"Where's the excitement?"

Zarin's smile widened.
 
"Ah, but the Russians have no intention of delivering the Americans. They plan to transport them back to Siberia—as hostages."

"Why not let them?
 
What the Russians do with American prisoners of war is no concern of ours," replied Hakim.

Zarin glanced at him in the lantern light. "True, but such a high density of Americans and Russians together does not readily present itself often. A coordinated attack at the right time would kill dozens of them! Hundreds even, on
both
sides."

Saldid smiled. "Do you have anything to eat? I'm hungry. I like to kill infidels on a full belly."

Zarin clapped Hakim on the shoulder.
 
"I like your partner.
 
He has spirit."
 
He laughed and led Saldid down the hallway.

Hakim glared at their backs.

Chapter 19

Walk of Shame

E
RIK
TRUDGED
ALONG
,
FOCUSED
on keeping the small group moving forward.
 
One step after another, his boots crunched on the gravel at the side of the road.
 
He never went more than five or six steps without casting a wary glance over his shoulder south, toward Dunham.
 
It'd been two hours since they left Dunham.
 
He had no way of knowing how far they'd walked, going as slow as they were.

"I'm thirsty," complained Teddy.

"Me too," added Lindsay.
 
"Erik, can we take a break soon?"

Brin shot a sympathetic glance at him and shrugged.
 
She looked like she could use a break as well.

Erik sighed, but pressed forward.
 
Step after step.
   
He was pushing the kids about as fast as they could go—Teddy's legs were only so long.
 

Can't keep up this pace forever…
 

He spotted a large oak tree about a hundred yards up the road.
 
He took one more furtive glance south.
 
Still nothing.
 
They'd seen no trace of man or beast since leaving Dunham.
 
It was like the entire world had vanished.

Doesn't anyone have any cattle or anything out here?
 
This is getting creepy.

"Erik…" prodded Brin.

"Okay," he exhaled.
 
"Let's make for that tree up there, gang, then we can take a break in the shade.
 
But we can't rest long—remember the bad men back in that town?"

Teddy nodded, his eyes wide.

"We don't know if they're going to come after us or not, so we've got to keep moving.
 
Okay?"

His response was to tighten the grip on Erik's hand.
 
Lindsay nodded.
 
Scared, but confident.
 
I'll take it.

"Let's go," said Brin.
 
"My feet are killing me."

By the time they finally reached the shade, the kids were ready to collapse on the cool grass beneath tree’s generous canopy.
 
Erik helped Brin get them settled and pass out their lukewarm canteens.
 
He kept his eyes on the road.
 
Still nothing—no sign of Ted either.
 
Erik checked his rifle for the hundredth time since Billy dropped them off.
 

Still ready
.

In the distance, a crow called out.
 
The mournful sound echoed across the empty fields.
 
To the west, a lonely farmhouse sat about half a mile off the road.

"How far do you think we've come?" asked Brin.
 
She took a sip from her canteen and passed it to Lindsay.

Erik took a drink from his own before responding.
 
"I don't know…we've been walking for a couple hours, but we're moving pretty slow."

"The kids can only walk so fast," said Brin defensively.

"I know that," said Erik, his voice tight with frustration.
 
"I just want to put as much distance between us and that town, as fast as possible."

"Have you heard anything from Ted?" Brin asked after a long moment of silence.

Erik looked at his wife.
 
"Nothing.
 
But I'm not going to risk talking to him.
 
I don't know what he's doing, but I'm sure he won't appreciate his radio going off."

She looked down.
 
"I told you I'm sorry," she said.
 

I know how that feels…

Erik took a bite of a protein bar and wrapped up the rest before dropping it back in his pocket.
 
The Russian food tasted like cardboard, but they discovered that it was surprisingly filling.
 

"You guys need a snack, or anything to eat?
 
Now's the time.
 
We have to get moving soon."

"I'm tired of walking," Teddy whined.
 
He looked up at Erik.
 
"My legs hurt.
 
Carry me?"

Erik sighed.
 
As soon as they lost their vehicle, the first thing Erik realized was it would be a long, slow walk with two children.
 
Especially one as little as Teddy.
 
He looked at Brin.
 

She shrugged.
 
"I can take as much of the gear as possible, but I can't carry your pack
and
mine."

Now what do I do?
 
Erik thought for a moment.
 
On his back he had his 72 hour kit with enough rations and water filters, first aid supplies, and ammunition to get him through at least three days.
 
Brin carried one fairly similar though lighter than his, with a little more emphasis on first aid.
 
She also carried a pistol.
 

Lindsay's pack had the rest of their first aid supplies.
 
So far the preteen seemed to have enough energy to carry on, but he doubted she would be going at full speed by sundown.
 
Teddy carried a small bag, with nothing more than a few gauze bandages and bits of food, including a few toys and small personal items they'd been able to scavenge from the Russian prison camp.
 
Erik hated parting with his pack, but Brin was right—there was no way one person could carry both backpacks.

"Okay, we've got to prioritize.
 
Let's start merging packs."

"We need to make sure we bring as much food and first aid supplies as possible," Brin said.

Erik nodded, already rummaging through his bag on the ground.
 
"Here, take the first aid supplies from my bag and give them to Lindsay.
 
You can carry the food since it's heavier.
 
I'll take this small detachable part off and wrap it around my waist.
 
I’ll put all the extra ammo and anything small enough to fit in it.
 
We can take whatever we can out of Teddy’s kit and put in this bag, then hide it behind the tree."

BOOK: Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3)
3.05Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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