Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) (21 page)

"All right, I'm coming in blind where the hell are you?"

"You're almost here, I can see your car.
 
The road turns left up ahead, you see that sign?"

"Yeah, the one full of shotgun holes?"

"That's the one.
 
About 100 feet behind it is a clump of trees just off the right side of the road."

Ted was silent for a second, but Erik heard the engine as the vehicle raced forward.
 
"Is there enough room to pull this thing in there?"

Erik scrambled to his feet and looked around their little encampment.
 
"I think so, as long as you don't have an RV.
 
There's a gap in the bushes alongside the road.
 
I'll meet you over there.
 
We can get you inside the tree line—hopefully before they see you."

"There a way out of there?"

Erik spun around in the gathering darkness.
 
"I don't think so.
 
We'll have to back out."

"
Damn
," muttered Ted.
 
"Well, it's better than getting into a gunfight in the open.
 
The car still out there?"

Erik broke cover and raced to the side of the road as low as he could.
 
"They're still coming.
 
Must not be moving very fast—the headlights haven't gotten much closer."

"Probably still looking for you.
 
That's good.
 
Okay, I think I see you by the side of the road.
 
Get the hell out of the way so I can pull this thing in there."

Erik jumped back as a dark blue minivan crunched across the gravel at the side of the road and rolled down the slight incline toward the farmland below.
 
Erik pulled back on the bushes as well as he could and winced—the bushes scratched the side of the van as it passed like nails on a chalkboard.
 

When Ted had successfully pulled forward into the dense cover, Erik let the bushes snapped back into place, and hoped the van hadn't left tire tracks.
 
He pushed through the trees ahead of the van and guided Ted as far into the trees as he could.

Before the engine had even stopped, Ted jumped out and shut the door to kill the interior lights.
 
"Branches?
 
Anything we can use to cover the outline?"

Erik turned.
 
"Brin, kids, everybody find branches!
 
Quick!"

The next few minutes the entire group scrambled to pick up dried branches and sticks—or handfuls of leaves in Teddy's case—and pile them up around the outside of the van, facing the road.

"Ted, the lights!" gasped Brin at one point.
 
She pointed north.

The storm was almost upon them. Erik could smell the rain on the wind.
 
The headlights of the mysterious car were no more than a quarter mile away, glowing bright in the distance through the trees.
 

"They're close, man."

"Okay everybody, let's get on the other side of the van and make sure you grab all the gear."

Erik scooped up his rifle and stood guard while everyone disappeared behind the van.
 
He took one last look around their impromptu campsite and rushed over to the tree were Brin and the kids had been sitting.
 
He felt it was a little unnecessary, but he kicked the dirt and scratched up pine needles to cover their tracks before disappearing behind the van himself.

"You ready?" asked Ted, pulling back the charging bolt on his rifle.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

Ted looked at Brin.
 
"Stay with the kids.
 
Whatever you do, don't let them be taken."

Brin had one arm around Teddy and held the pistol in her other, pointing at the ground between her legs.
 
"Never again."

The steel in Brin's voice sent a chill down Erik's spine as he moved around to the rear of the van.
 
Ted had moved to the front.
 
Between their two fully automatic rifles, Erik knew the two of them could take down the men in the car should they stop.
 
He just didn't want to risk a firefight so close to the children and their brand-new ride.

The car soon appeared, silhouetted by lightning flashes in the distance.
 
Thunder pealed overhead.
 
The vehicle came to a stop in the same spot as it had before, just in front of their position.
 
A window rolled down, and the driver moved inside the car.
 
Erik couldn't tell what the hell he was doing and prayed the man didn't have night vision goggles.
 

This close to the trees, the outline of the van would be impossible to miss.
 
He heard muffled talking, and the beat of a radio from inside the car.
 
The passenger lit up a cigarette, an orange light flaring inside the darkened interior.
 
Erik noticed there were two heads in the rear passenger seat now as well, huddled together.

Oh shit.

He held his breath, brought his rifle up to his shoulder and took aim at the driver.
 
If the man so much as opened the door, he would be forced to fire.
 
That's when the shaking started.
 

Erik found couldn't hold the rifle still.
 
Just the thought of pulling the trigger and ending someone's life sent him over the edge.
 
Erik prayed the car would move on before his finger hit the trigger by accident.
 

What's wrong with me?
 
I should be able to do anything to protect my family.
 
Those bastards
 
double-crossed us and now they're hunting us and I can't even pull the trigger?

The car shifted into gear and rolled forward, the window rolling up.
 
The driver threw a beer can out the window that rattled on the ground, then hit the gas.
 
The car peeled out, roaring off in the distance as the first drops of rain pelted the world.

Erik slumped against the back of the van and fell to his knees.
 
He dropped his rifle and threw up.

Chapter 22

New Target

S
TAPLETON
STARED
AT
THE
sat phone in his hands.
 
"Say again, Seeker?"

"Repeat, package is not in the store.
 
No sign at all, Actual.
 
This is a big fat Whiskey-Tango-Foxtrot."

Stapleton cursed and pounded his fist into the console next to his main terminal.
 
"They moved Dragonfly!
 
Get out of there, we're going in hard."

"You want us to exfil without the package?"

"Yes, God damn it!
 
I'm going to rain holy hell on that city.
 
Get out!
 
Signal when you're clear.
 
I'm taking the gloves off, Seeker.
 
Command Actual, out."
 
Stapleton slammed the secure satellite phone
 
back in its cradle.
 

Son of a bitch!
 
This Malcolm was proving to be a wily bastard.
 
They'd traced the secure commlink the rebel commander had used to a specific address in north Philadelphia.
 
He heard Edwards' voice—she'd
been
there.
 

He knew we were going to make a play for her.
 
He's smarter than I thought.
 
Stapleton stared at the force asset location screen, watching the blue blips that designated Hughes' position as they clustered, then started to move north again.
 
Good, he's in the air.
 
He frowned.
 
I won't underestimate you again, Malcolm.

The general grabbed the sat phone again and punched in the authorization code he needed.
 
It was the last thing he wanted to do, but he needed some intel.
 

"Hello?"
a woman's voice answered.
 
She sounded young.

"This is Brigadier General Joseph Stapleton calling for…" he couldn't bring himself to call Daniel Jones by his preferred title.

"The President?"
she breathed.
 

Stapleton closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
 
"Yes."

"Okay, I've been practicing this.
 
You're the first one!"
she squealed.
 
"Okay, here goes."

Stapleton rolled his eyes.
 
I don't need this.

"Please hold for the president."
 
The girl squealed again as the phone went silent.

Jesus Christ.
 
Stapleton held the phone away from his ear and stared at the ceiling.

"Ah, General Stapleton, good to hear from you.
 
Are you ready to surrender yourself and your men to face—"

"Shut up, you little prick.
 
I'm not here to surrender anything.
 
I'm calling to deliver terms."

"T-terms?"
the 'president' stammered.
 
He cleared his throat.
 
"Excuse me?"
 
The subtle click in the line told Stapleton he was on speaker phone now.
 

Perfect
.
 
"I'll cut to the chase.
 
Your administration is an affront to every American who ever bled for this country.
 
You claim the title of President without ever winning an election.
 
You followed on the coattails of that usurper, Suthby."

"President Suthby was—"

"I'm not finished!" barked Stapleton.
 
A dialog box popped up on his main screen, informing him that Seeker Actual had delivered the all clear signal.
 
His men were out of harms way and the armored cav was only moments away from assuming combat positions.
 
Stapleton smiled.
 

"I'm giving you fair warning that we're coming for you."

"W-what?
 
You're talking treason—"

"I'm talking justice."

"B-but, you can't do this!
 
I'm the President!
 
What you're talking about is a coup—a military coup!"

"Call it what you want,
sir
.
 
I'm giving you the heads up so you'll consider surrendering now and saving me a lot of hassle.
 
I'd hate to have to level Washington."

"You can't—the civilians—I…"

"Look at my track record.
 
I am under orders from President Reed—the last legitimate President—to seek out and destroy the rebellion.
 
Conveniently enough, they are leading me straight to you.
 
You sir, are part of this rebellion now that you've opening your arms and offered amnesty."

"I won't give in.
 
I'll fight you—"

Stapleton almost laughed.
 
"You and what army?"
 

"If I have to, I'll bring in the Chinese."

Stapleton paused for a second.
 
He hadn't expected that move at all.

"Yes, you didn't know about that, did you?
 
I signed a truce with them, too.
 
Was that treason to stop the bloodshed out west?
 
To save our citizens under siege in California?
 
They're our allies now and I think given the right incentive, would be more than happy to defend this government from a rogue general and his misguided army."

Stapleton clenched his fist.
 
He's bluffing.
 
The hell with this.
 
"If you have video feeds or any way of seeing what's going on in Philadelphia, I suggest you pay attention.
 
This is what's coming for you."
 
He killed the transmission before Jones could sputter a response.
 
Switching to the Stryker's in-cabin radio, he selected the command frequency and keyed the mic.

"All units, this is Command Actual.
 
Engage, engage, engage."

Stapleton watched the view from Colonel Vinsen's lead tank on his screen as it fired the first salvo into Philadelphia, concentrating on the rebel outpost Hughes had ID'd from the air.
 
The distant rumble of a dozen of other tanks firing at once brought a smile to his face.

"Watch carefully, Mr. President."

Chapter 23

The Fort

E
VANS
SIPPED
HOT
COFFEE
from a mug that said 'world's greatest hunter' as he stared out the expansive three-story window west across Lake Ticonderoga.
 

The sun had only just risen, so the rich fall colors of the world were still gray and muted, but it was more than enough for him to see across the lake and realize the object he’d seen at the night before was none other than Fort Ticonderoga. He'd heard about the fort on TV back in prison, but as a native Mainer, he'd never visited before.

Now as he stared across the lake, it looked like the biggest golden ticket in the world. Thick, high stone walls, and a massive gate that he could easily see through the early morning fog that hugged the lake. The fort would be the perfect place for him to take control of the area. The idea of simply
surviving
the winter began to fade, replaced by something new.
 
Something hungry.

With the amount of food and water they'd secured by killing the family that had lived in his new mansion, He'd have more than enough to feed his crew for at least a few days. And best news of all, the Vermont side of the lake was littered with houses just like his new command center.