Alea Jacta Est: A Novel of the Fall of America (Future History of America Book 1) (75 page)

Ted grunted
and watched Erik.  "Why don't you just keep the pistol?"

Erik's face
remained calm as his turned the rifle over in his hands.  He knew what Ted
meant.  Ted knew Erik had never fired a .22 before and had never even held an
M-4 before.  His entire experience with firearms could be written in a
paragraph.  A few weeks of practice, a pistol fired in anger during the
Battle.  That was it. 

Erik
checked the safety, deftly released the magazine and caught it with his left
hand.  He checked the rounds, slammed it back home and pulled back on the
charging handle.  He released it with a satisfying
clack
and checked that
the safety was still on.

When he
looked up, the sergeant, the medic, and Ted were staring at him in disbelief. 
"How...?" asked Ted.  He had never looked more surprised.

"I
used to play
Modern Warfare 6
…before the lights went out."

"The
video game?" asked Ted, incredulous.

"
A
lot
," was the straight faced reply.  He looked at the disbelief on
the sergeant's face.  "It's
very
realistic.  I didn't use pistols
very much, but these...
these
are another matter.”

"Hooah,"
grunted the sergeant with a grin.  His two civilian passengers were anything
but civilian, and it was alright with him.

"I
can't believe this...." the medic said.  "You're
both
insane."  The other troopers were watching the scene now with more than a
few grins.  "All right," she sighed and put both hands up in front of
her armored chest.  "We'll check it out."  She adjusted her helmet
and keyed her mic: "Let's go.  Eyes open people.  You two," she
pointed thumb and forefinger at Erik and Ted.  "With me.  Move out!"

After a
chorus of quiet "
Hooahs
", the men moved forward and took
position all lined up against the front of the charred main office building,
just inside the gate.  The scope of the damage was finally visible.  Three
guards were still at their posts, shot in the back, slumped over on the
makeshift catwalk Erik and his men had erected after the Battle.  Erik could
see they were taken by surprise.  Someone had planned the attack.  Someone had
tricked them into letting their guard down. 

Erik vowed
he would find out who betrayed them.  Whoever it was had betrayed not only the
guards, but Brin and Susan and the kids too.  Payback was going to be a real
bitch for that person.  Oh yes.

There were
seven or eight bodies, filthy and scattered about the ground in front of them,
some face down, some face up.  All dead.  Erik noticed a white arm hanging out
the driver's window of the truck.  It was covered in tattoos.  Impaled in the
engine of the truck was the remains of a motorcycle.  He turned away before he
felt the urge to throw up.  The stench wasn't as bad as the beach where they
had come ashore at dawn, but the sight was ten times worse.  He knew
these
people.

"You
see Hoss or the other bikers?" whispered Erik, eyes on the hellish scene
around them.

"No...”
replied Ted.  He stopped and looked around more.  “That’s odd…”  He was focused
on the motorcycle embraced by the truck.  He took a quick look around, then ran
crouched over and investigated further.  Erik watched him look for a moment,
then hang his head and return in the same fashion, crouched over in an awkward
looking run.

"That
is
Hoss."

"
What?
"
Erik asked a little too loud.  The Lieutenant shot a glare at him and moved her
finger across her lips.

Erik
dropped to a knee and shifted the weight of his rifle.  Ted joined him as the
troopers scanned corners and peered through the corners of windows.  The
building appeared to be deserted.

"Hoss
bought the farm stopping that truck."  Ted glanced at the heinous wreck. 
"But I don't see any others..."

"He
wasn't a kamikaze type, Ted..." replied Erik, shocked at his friends
demise.

"I
know.  I
think
..." he swallowed hard.  "I think that was an
act of desperation."

Erik
followed Ted's gaze and examined the wreck.  His mind suddenly clicked. 
"He was trying to stop whoever was riding that truck from getting in.  He
knew what was about to go down.  So why didn't the guards?"

"Cooper,
point.  Riojas and Jones, follow him, let's get to that building to the
north," the Lieutenant barked.  Erik and Ted had no choice but to follow,
each lost in his own thoughts and questions.

"Roger
that," said the soldier in the lead.  He kept his rifle up and leaned
forward before he quartered the corner and moved quickly on to the next
building.  The two other men followed him, one scanned high through the
shattered windows of the building they approached, the other looked low for
movement around corners.

They paused
at the next building, then, on no sign of anyone but more bodies, they signaled
all clear.  "Alright, let's go.  Quickly, eyes sharp.  Stay frosty
people," the Lieutenant whispered.

The rest of
the squad and Erik and Ted moved efficiently over the open space of the parking
lot and around a few burned out cars.  Erik recognized a few bodies in the
grass.  One was just a child, the daughter of one of his guards.  He had
trouble with her name all of a sudden. 

Allison?
  He
viciously suppressed the wave of fear that suddenly washed over his soul. 
Whatever
happened here, Brin was better prepared to handle it than anyone else here. 
Remember that!

He risked a
glance at Ted as they moved on to the next building, engulfed in flames.  Ted
wore a mask of non-emotion.  It was as if he was a machine.  Erik knew he
recognized some of the bodies as well, but it didn't seem to affect him at
all.  More dark skinned bodies mixed with tattooed ex-cons, highlighted in the
light of the fire were scattered on the ground in small groups.  They were
concentrated at the entrance to the building on fire. 

They
skirted that building—if anyone was in there, there was nothing they could do. 
Smoke poured out of every ground floor window and door.  The heat was so
intense they could not even get within twenty feet of the doomed structure. 
They moved on to the next building, one away from where Erik and Ted lived.

More bodies
littered the parking lot.  "So many," whispered Erik.  "Where
the hell did they all come from?"  He noticed an especially large black
man, face up, in what looked like a very clean, expensive suit.  He had
designer sunglasses on and his hands even looked manicured.  He didn't look
dead, just asleep.  There was no sign of struggle or anything. 

It was as
if this mysterious man just laid down and went to sleep in the middle of the
parking lot.  As they pass closer, Erik could see why.  The man's chest was
dark with blood.  There was a circular ring of scorched cloth in the middle of
his torso.  Someone had put a gun to his chest and pulled the trigger
.  It
must have been someone he knew or trusted,
Erik figured.  The man had been
completely taken by surprise, and the consequences was scattered on the
pavement next to his head.  But this stranger wasn't in the Freehold.  He came
with the attackers.  A doublecross.

The hair on
the back of his neck went up.  Erik could not explain why, but he was more
alert than he had ever been in his entire life.  Something was not right and
his instinct shouted at him to find cover, find Brin, and get the hell out of
Dodge.

It was like
something out of a dream.  The bodies were everywhere.  Those of their friends
and neighbors were only a blessed few compared to the score or more of black
men with a few Hispanics and a dozen or so heavily tattooed whites tossed in
for good measure. 

Someone had
planned the attack.  They had won the confidence of the guards and gained
entrance by surprise.  Otherwise those men Erik had trained wouldn't have died
at their posts, shot in the back.  He glanced down at the well dressed man at
his feet. 

And this
guy...the leader?  Someone didn't like what he was doing and capped him, right
here in the parking lot, mid attack.  That means the attackers were unstable or
doped up.  Maybe disorganized enough to give our people a chance to regroup?

They paused
at the corner of the next building.  The anxiety was almost enough to make him
vomit.  Just thirty yards away, around the corner was his home.  Ted's home. 
Brin, Susan, the kids.  That would be where they were when all this went down. 
Ted took a quick look and popped back around the corner, his back against the
wall.  "Lentz."

"What?"
asked Erik in a surprised whisper.

"At
the corner, slumped against the wall.  Someone beat him halfway to
hamburger."

Erik
gripped his rifle tight.  "If that damn fool had something to do with
this," he began.

"He's
already paid for it, in spades.  Trust me," replied Ted with a serious
look.  "What you're about to see..."

"I
need to find her," said Erik. 

"Just...prepare
yourself," was all Ted muttered.  Erik saw the skin around Ted's eyes was
drawn tight. 

"Voices,"
called out Cooper from his position on one knee by a large bush next to the
corner of the building.  He had an unobstructed view down the walkway, but was
easily hidden from the view of anyone not behind their building.

The driver
turned and jogged around opposite corner behind them.  Another soldier peeled
off to cover him.  The Lieutenant made eye contact with Cooper and pointed at
him.  Cooper nodded and moved slowly forward, looking for the source of the
voices he heard.  The rest of them slowly followed.

Cooper
suddenly held up his hand in a fist.  Everyone froze and crouched.  He pointed
off ahead of them to the right.  There was some movement in the windows of
Erik's apartment. 

His heart
raced and he took an involuntary step forward before Ted's arm pinned him to
the wall like a steel rod.  Erik didn't see the look of warning on Ted's face. 
His eyes were locked on to the window of his bedroom with tunnel vision.  He
saw movement, a flash of white.  Was it skin?

Someone was
thrown through the window with a crash.  Lots of white skin.  A dark head poked
through and yelled something that echoed between the buildings.  Erik paused. 
It sounded like the man was…laughing?  No. 
Barking
. 

What the
hell?

Two more
men came around the corner and howled.  They pounced on the figured squirming
in the grass and glass.  Kicks flew, punches, a few swings of a bat.  Grunts
and groans and screams and then barking again.  A few more men came from the
biggest building in the center of the complex.

Erik
remembered the plan he and Lentz had put together.  Get the women and children
to the top floor of the main building, turn it into a last ditch shelter.  The
Keep, like a castle's last line of defense.  They had cleared the lower floors
and booby trapped doors.  He closed his eyes and silently prayed that Brin,
Susan and the kids had made it to the Keep and locked themselves in on the top
floor.  Maybe someone made it to safety or they got word out for help.  After
all, Art’s radio shack was up there on the top floor too.

But who
would, or could help?
asked his rational mind in a whisper. 
You're
with the National Guard!

When he
opened his eyes, there were maybe ten men, some no older than teenagers, all
attacking the person thrown out of Erik's apartment.  He could tell by the
grunts of pain that it wasn't Brin.  It was...he squinted.  He couldn't quite
tell.

"Bernie,"
hissed Ted through clenched teeth.

For the
first time, Erik noticed the number of bodies that littered the ground just outside
his apartment.  It left a clear path of travel.  Everything the attackers did
focused on
his
apartment building.  His mind made the connection
although he couldn't quite believe it.  "They were after
me
.  Look,
all the bodies are leading in this direction."

"Grimes,"
Ted said with a nod of recognition.  ‘He could have got past the guards, got
people in. 
He knew where we lived
."

"And I
threw him and his daughter out..."  Erik found himself locked in a stare
on the ground at his feet.  He slipped into a state of mind beyond the
berserker rage of his ancestors, beyond the swordsman who cut down Brin's
attacker what seemed like a year ago. 

Something
cold, calculating, and relentless raised its head deep in his being.  They came
after him.  They came after
Brin
.  All his neighbors and friends killed,
lives snuffed out because Henry Grimes wanted
him
.  Erik slowly focused
on the scene before him with a clarity of purpose he had never known.  Now it
was
personal
.           

Ted watched
the sea change on his young friend's face.  Erik went from a young man who had
put everything he had into putting on the air of bravery to...what, exactly? 
Not the Viking he saw cut the prisoner in half so long ago...no, this was
something different.  Much more dangerous.  Ted smiled.  Erik looked like a
Marine
. 
He followed Erik's gaze back to the scene of Bernie's attack.