Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) (64 page)

"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

E
RIK
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.

Erik crested the final rise he knew would lead him down under the wooden horse fence that bordered the Colonel's property. Though he was a neighbor, when Erik was growing up, the Colonel had always seemed formidable—scary even. Short with words, gruff in manner, the old veteran had never failed to impress Erik when he and Erik's father got together to talk over a barbecue.
 

Erik had heard stories of how the Colonel had served with the army in Vietnam.
 
One year, after a particularly festive Fourth of July, the old man had appeared in his full dress uniform, complete with ceremonial sword. From that point on, Erik refused to call him anything other than 'the Colonel'.

Erik slowed his pace, to quiet his approach up the tree line that separated his neighborhood from the forest. He hadn't come across anyone in the woods having long since left Ted and the others behind.
 
Though he was beyond anxious to see his home, he wasn't about to go strolling out of cover and walk blindly into a trap.