Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) (22 page)

He took another sip of the coffee. It was a rich Columbian free-trade roast, probably cost the owners $100 a bag. One of the men from his raiding party had started a fire in the fireplace and before long they had fresh coffee to go with the emergency rations liberated from the basement bunker.

He smiled, remembering the activities of the night before. He'd known right from the get-go the guy who owned this place would be armed. What he didn't know, based off the trophies stuffed and mounted on the walls—he never understood why people did that, it was just gross to have dead animals hanging from your walls—was that the guy was a hardcore survivalist. The homeowner refused to give up the location of his stash, no matter the pain Evans inflicted on him—until he turned his boys loose on the man’s wife and daughter.

Their screams were like music to his ears.
 
The homeowner spilled the beans pretty quick after that. Once the boys had their fun, he had the girls killed, saving the homeowner for himself.
 
It took a while to clean himself after, but it was worth it.
 
He felt invigorated.
 
Alive.

He glanced across the lake at the pair of houses he'd had the rest of his men take last night. He didn't like having his forces split on opposite side of the lake, but at least this way if somebody decided to do something about it, worst-case scenario he'd only lose half his crew. His eyes drifted back to the fort.
 

But in there…I'd be untouchable.

A plan of action formed in his head. He would use the sailboat to transport a raiding party to the fort and capture it.
 
Then they could haul their loot across the lake once it was secure.
 
He'd send men out to find as many boats as they could and bring them to the fort. From there, he could shuttle men and supplies back and forth across the lake at will, raiding like Vikings, taking what they wanted, killing anyone who got in their way.

We'll be gods.

Evans smiled over the rim of his coffee.
 
His eyes locked on the fort.
Oh yeah, this is gonna be good.
 
"Gimpy!" he called over his shoulder.

"Yeah?" replied the old sailor from across the kitchen.

"Let's get your boat ready for action. We've got a busy day today."

"Where we going?" the old man asked as he stepped up next to Evans. The man smelled like blood and piss.

Evans pointed with his coffee cup at the fort across the lake. "Over there."

"I like the way you think, sheriff."

Chapter 24

Friends no More

D
ANIEL
STARED
AT
THE
impassive face on the screen in front of him. "Mr. Secretary-General, I don't understand the reluctance—"

An expansive, if false smile spread across the older man's face. "Mr. President, I am beginning to realize there are a great many things you do not understand. Chief amongst them is how to effectively run a government. Quite frankly, sir," the Secretary-General said, clasping his hands before him, "you're in over your head." He shook his head.
 

"Our humanitarian forces and relief agencies have been completely decimated by rogue elements from your own military
and
civilian population.
 
The situation is untenable. Member nations have supplied troops, personnel, and supplies in the face of constant and now overwhelming opposition.
 
They have been wanting to leave for some time now. It is only through force of will that I've been able to hold together the coalition this long. I'm afraid if you do not reverse the trends in your country immediately, I will have no choice but to acquiesce to the General Assembly and formally terminate relief operations."
 
The man blinked and waited for a response.

Daniel's mind raced. Everything was falling apart. He had to have external military support to tackle Stapleton.
 
A few local commanders had gone rogue like Stapleton, but none were having more of an impact than the cantankerous army general chasing Malcolm.
 

Daniel frowned.
 
He needed Stapleton though—he needed the army to put pressure on Malcolm to force compliance so he'd focus on getting his people to Florida. He needed Malcolm to take out or at least slow the advance of the Russians.
 

He rubbed his temples.
 
All his problems were based on three uncontrollable variables.
 
It was like a giant house of cards and he was watching a gusty wind kick up. It was only a matter of time before one or more supports fell out and the entire thing collapsed.

And whoever sits on top falls the farthest.
He glanced at the staffers through the window on the far side of his office. All of them thought of him as the real president. They expected him to lead, to bring the country out of the darkness and back to civilization.

An ironic question bubbled up in the back of his mind.
 
What would Hank have done?
 
What would Reed have done?

"Mr. President, I'm sure you have many things to attend to, but I wanted to offer you my personal best wishes. There's simply nothing more I can do for you."

The man wants to go, but he's too polite to just hang up.

Daniel nodded. "Oh…of course. Of course. I'm sorry we couldn't figure something else out, something more beneficial to both of our constituents…"

"There you have it…" said the Secretary-General, his face a mask of consolation.

Yes. There you have it.
 

The screen went dark. Daniel stared at the wall for a long moment, listening to murmured voices from the other side of his office door.
 
What am I going to do?

If the rumors were true that the Secretary of the Department of Education had been found alive in her home state of Colorado…Daniel looked at the pictures on the wall of past presidents shaking hands with foreign dignitaries. President Reed was the last one. Blank spaces had been left for future presidents. No one had gotten a picture of Hank and if Daniel didn't come up with a solution, there would never be one of him, either.

The U.N. is going to abandon me. After all the brokered deals, after all of the work—they're just going to pull up stakes and leave. The Russians will never trust me again.
 
He sighed.
Kristanoff wants my blood almost as much as he wants Stapleton and Malcolm. How the hell those two managed to piss everybody off in the world, I don't know.

He drummed his fingers on the desk.
 
Where does that leave me?

He stared at a theater map showing the east coast of the United States and the current troop locations of Malcolm's people and Stapleton's army. He picked up his phone and the operator's breathless voice immediately greeted him.
 

"
Yes Mr. President?
"

"Marylyn, I need to get in touch with Malcolm."

A slight pause met his request. "
Malcolm, sir? I don't see a Malcolm in the database here…
"

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Malcolm Abdul Rashid. The leader of the rebellion. We have a secure link with him, but I don't know what the passcode is. Suthby had it all set up—I'm sure you've got it on file
 
somewhere…"

Another brief pause.
"Oh! Oh, here it is!"
she gasped.
 
"One moment, sir— I'll transfer you."

Daniel drummed his fingers on the desk again as he waited. And waited…and waited. At last the connection was established and a breathless voice came on the line.
 

"Who is it?"

"This is Daniel Jones, President of the United States. Whom am I speaking with?"

Crackling static tickled his ear as the phone was transferred to someone else. "
This is Malcolm."

"I'll cut right to the chase.
 
I know you're a busy man."

"No thanks to you."

Daniel ignored the jibe. "I wish to propose a new deal."

"I'm listening."

"FEMA has a warehouse just outside of Washington—I'm sure by now your people could use a little extra food and water. Am I right?"

"A good guess. Go on."

"I'm going to do us both a favor and ignore the insolence in your voice. Try to keep in mind you're talking to the President of the United States." Daniel hurried on before Malcolm could respond. "I recommend you take those supplies and distribute them to your people."

After a thoughtful pause, Malcolm returned to the line.
"In exchange for what?"

"I need you to delay Stapleton's arrival as long as possible."

"Why would that be, Mr. President? Are you planning on evacuating Washington?"

Daniel blinked. He had not even considered that possibility. But now he supposed, since Stapleton had moved south past the still-burning ruins of Philadelphia, he would have to seriously consider evacuation.
 

Stay in Washington and hope Stapleton didn't get greedy and try to snag the sitting president? Or pack his bags and flee west, maybe to the Greenbrier complex?
 
It was something else to add to the list of things think about.
 

"That is not what I'm suggesting," he said.

Malcolm laughed, a bitter sound
"I can tell by the tone of your voice and how long you took to respond you hadn't even
thought
of that. I'm beginning to doubt the longevity of your presidency.
"

Daniel clenched his jaw.
 
Why does everyone keep saying that?

Malcolm grunted.
 
"I have a counterproposal."

Daniel swallowed. "Okay."

"I've recently come into possession of a high-ranking officer in the United States Air Force. A certain female colonel. She is my prisoner, but I would be willing to consider an exchange. I am not an unreasonable man, Mr. President—I understand she has family and friends who would like to see her again, if they yet live. I also understand, however, that as a lieutenant colonel, she might possibly have certain…secrets…"

"Secrets?" asked Daniel.
 

Malcolm grunted.
 
"Knowledge of your national defensive capabilities that you would not want to fall into the hands of the Russians at this time."

Daniel broke out into a cold sweat.
Dear God, what I got myself into?
"I see. That's very interesting. I'll need time to discuss this with my advisers."

"Don't take too long, Mr. President.
 
My people are almost out of food and water and General Stapleton has so far proven to be relentless in his pursuit. I would hate to see what happened to Philadelphia happen to…another city. Like Baltimore perhaps?"

Daniel opened his mouth to speak, but the line went dead.
God dammit! This is not how it's supposed to go. If this falls through, I'm going to have to figure out how to get the hell out of Washington.
 

He looked up.
 
Jesus, what if Stapleton decides to send some sort of assault team after me?
Daniel froze in a panic.
What the hell am I supposed to do?
 

Chapter 25

Pit Stop

E
RIK
ADJUSTED
HIS
SEATBELT
and blinked.
 
The road blurred in front of him, reduced to twin cones of white light in front of their van.
 
It'd been two days since they left Dunham.
 
They crossed the entire state of South Carolina without incident and Erik hoped this, the dawn of the second day, would go just as smooth.
 

He rubbed his eyes.
 
So far the back roads they'd been following remained mostly clear of cars.
 
He'd only slowed down twice during the long night to gently work his way around wrecks.
 
Brin, Ted, and the kids were in the back of the van sleeping peacefully.
 
They'd long since decided to stow the third row seating and provide the adults space to stretch out.
 
They didn't have much in the way of creature comfort with the kids curled up around them like cats, but it got the job done.

Movement between the two captain's seats in the middle row brought Erik's eyes to the rear view mirror.
 
By the dim glow of the instrument panel, Erik made out Susan’s ghost hovering over his shoulder.
 
He blinked.

"Um, Erik?" whispered Lindsay.
 
Her resemblance to her mother was uncanny.

"Yeah?" Erik mumbled.

"I have to go to the bathroom," she said.

Erik blinked and focused on the road.
 
Damn
.
 
He was hoping to make it through this night, just like the last without stopping.
 
They were able to travel faster during the day, but any distance they picked up at night brought them that much closer to safety.
 

He gripped the steering wheel tight.
 
As tired as he was, it was hard to control his frustration and he
had
to—especially with the children.
 
Sighing, he realized he could use a break as well.
 
Better to waste five minutes going to the bathroom and stretching his legs in the middle of nowhere, then risk falling asleep and killing them all.

He nodded.
 
"Okay, hang in there and get your shoes on.
 
I'll find us a nice quiet spot."

A few minutes later, a suitable turnoff materialized in front of him. Erik slowed and passed through a deserted country intersection, looking both ways.
 
Just like every other small community they passed, everything was pitch black.
 
No lights, no electricity, no nothing.
 
It was like the whole world had vanished.