The Dragons of Men (The Sons of Liberty Book 2) (60 page)

“You make it sound like there’s no hope we pull this off,” Adam replied.

Gene paused before unbuckling his sidearm holster. “And you make it sound like there is.” Gene shook his head and approached Marc, handing him the holster and three full magazines. As Marc nodded and began to buckle the pistol to his leg, Gene turned to Adam. “Fifty miles north on Highway One Sixty-Seven. The highway cuts through Little Rock and branches off northeast after it crosses I-Forty. Follow the signs for Searcy. I know the place because I know the guys across the river that wanted it. You got it on your map?”

Marc nodded, raising the screen on his wrist.

“Good,” Gene replied. “The Texans wanted that outpost badly and Fort Harding wanted nothing to do with them. You pull this off and you might have some powerful friends to watch your back in the future, but don’t expect help anytime soon. They’ve got their own battles to fight.”

“I’m not looking for a guardian,” Adam said, buckling the holster to his leg. “I’m looking for patriots.”

“Then go,” Gene replied, nodding his head as he turned and began walking toward the exit. “The patriot inside me died long ago.”

C
hapter
T
wenty-one

Piercing the Dawn

Adam drew in a deep breath and ignored Jack’s protests as he and Marc turned to leave. He left the factory and began his way back the direction they had fled an hour earlier. Night had begun to fade, the dark sky above giving way to the purples and blues of the coming dawn. It was the beginning of a significant day—one, Adam believed, which would fulfill his dream of witnessing the rebirth of America or bury it with his lifeless corpse.

“What’s the time?” Adam asked, turning to Marc. Marc glanced down at the phone strapped to his wrist and held it out for Adam to see.

“Almost six,” Adam said, biting back a curse. “We’ll have to hurry.”

Marc looked down and typed as they continued west toward Riverfront Drive.

What next?

“We move north as quickly and quietly as possible,” Adam replied.

Marc nodded, glancing down at his wrist as he swiped about.

A lot of ground to cover.

“We’ll make it, Marc,” Adam replied. “I don’t believe we’ve come this far to fail.”

True, but fifty miles….

“I think we’re dreaming to think we’ll be stealing a working car,” Adam replied. “In all likelihood, we’ll have to make the trip on foot. If we don’t stop, we could be there in a day or two.”

A few silent seconds passed before Adam glanced over, Marc’s face weary as he typed.

Fifty miles on foot with dogs on our heels…right.

“Do we have a choice?” Adam replied. “Tell you what, we make it through this and I’ll be the first to sit down and learn sign language with you. You have my word.”

Marc smiled and looked down at his screen, scrolling through his premade responses. Marc paused and grinned as he held up the screen.

I’d rather have a rapier and some cheese.

Adam chuckled. “Marc, my friend, the road never gets old with you beside me.”

Marc nodded and looked forward—his smile disappearing as they approached six guards lounging next to a machine-gun and rocket-artillery installation. The guards were playing dice on an upended steel barrel that sat next to the massive vehicle.

“Play it cool and let me do the talking,” Adam said as they approached, glancing over at Marc with a grin. “Not that you really have much of a say in the matter.” Marc shot him back a flat stare before smiling and shaking his head.

Adam took a deep breath, his forced banter with Marc failing to calm his nerves like he had hoped. As they neared the group of gambling soldiers, one of them tossed two dice into the center.

“Snake eyes!” the man shouted as he began raking in a pile of ammo from the center. The other men cursed and grumbled as the man’s pile of ammo grew.

Dicing with ammo,
Adam thought as he nodded to the men as casually as possible. The man with the growing stock of ammo looked up, his eyes narrowing as he saw Adam and Marc.

“Who the hell are you?” the unknown man asked. The other four turned and looked at Adam curiously. Adam tensed, firming his jaw as he did his best to play the part of an arrogant prick.

“Adam and Marc,” he replied, figuring there was no need to hide his name. “Who the hell are you?”

The man chuckled and shook his head. “You’re feisty for a new Recruit. I haven’t seen you around before.”

“And here I thought they needed us to be feisty.” Adam replied before spitting on the ground.

“Didn’t I see you with about five other men passing down that road an hour ago?” the man asked.

“What do you care?” Adam replied, fighting to suppress the urge to tremble.

“There’s nothing down there,” the man said. “What the hell were you all doing? Shouldn’t you be getting ready for the big push?”

“Well nothing is down there and we were making sure it stays that way,” Adam replied, pointing behind him. “We’re doing drone inspections and Derrick sent us back for parts. If it bothers you, I can radio him. We can ask Derrick what he thinks about you dicing instead of watching the other side of the river. In fact, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind moving the question up the chain of command a little higher. Maybe a few seconds under would—”

“Go to hell,” the man replied as he and the others began bagging their winnings and refocusing their attention on the river. Adam and Marc quickly resumed their walk. Marc glanced over at Adam, grinning before looking down at his screen and typing.

Well done.

“What do you think he meant about a big push?” Adam asked. Marc shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Six behind us, thousands more to go. Now if we stay on Highway Thirty we should—”

“You two!”

Adam turned around as his heart reached up to seize his tonsils. His eyes found the six men fifty feet behind him, but they all seemed preoccupied with checking their machine guns and artillery.

“Get over here you shitheads!”

Adam glanced to the far right of the six soldiers and watched as a group of armed men approached. He bit back the immediate urge to run, knowing that doing so would likely cost him a bullet to the back.

Play it cool,
Adam thought.
Make them believe you’re one of them.

“What the hell do you want?” Adam shouted.

“First of all, I want you to show me a little respect,” the man replied.

Adam’s eyes narrowed and he suddenly realized he was staring at the burly man from an hour earlier.

“Sorry, I didn’t know who you were,” Adam replied.

“Because I don’t typically give a shit about befriending new Recruits like you,” the man said with a pause. “The name’s Phil Hebron—your Staff Sergeant—and I’d like you to tell me just where the hell you and Derrick ran off to.”

“He took us to inspect the drone sentries between the bridges,” Adam replied.

“Why the hell would he do a shit-brained thing like that?”

“Cause orders are orders,” Adam replied. “Apparently, a few of the new Recruits know a thing or two about drones and there was a malfunctioning sentry near—”

“What the hell does he care if those bug-eyed buzzards are malfunctioning?” Phil replied. “That’s not his job. I’m the one who gives him orders and he’s supposed to be getting you assholes ready to deploy by noon.”

Adam paused, gazing back at the other man. He had thought they would have at least a day to sneak away and travel by foot before the Patriarchs deployed the masses. But now, it sounded as though the battle would be raging before they even had time to put much of Little Rock behind them.

“We’re deploying today?” Adam asked.

“Word came in from New Orleans. They’re done waiting. If Texas allies with Fort Harding, we’ll get hit from both sides and lose Little Rock. Sigmund doesn’t want that to happen. We’re shipping you Recruits north to take Fort Harding. Six waves of two thousand to take the base while the remaining two regiments stay behind with the Agents to guard the bridges. Granted, the Recruits on the riverfront will be little more than paper targets if Texas begins to roll. The Agents manning our tanks and guns will be the real wall that stops those bastards from taking what’s ours. With a little luck, we’ll have Fort Harding by nightfall and Texas won’t know anything changed. With a little more luck, you might just make it through the grind up north and be back here just in time to soften up the south side of the river for us. It’s a shit luck job, but no one can put you back under once you’re dead.”

Adam looked over at Marc before shifting his gaze to the city that was rising for a day of death, wondering if the ground where he stood would soon be a crater.

“So do we stay here on guard or do we go north?” Adam asked.

“How the hell should I know?” Phil asked. “What does your Wasp say?”

“Wasp?” Adam asked, confused.

“You don’t have a drone so I figured they gave you a Wasp with the new shipments this morning.” Phil’s eyes narrowed before approaching Adam. “Turn your head and show me your ear.”

“What?” Adam asked. “I don’t know—”

“Do it or I’ll have these men here crack your damn kneecaps.”

Adam nodded his head and turned his head to the right as Phil stepped closer. After a pause, he spoke again.

“Now the other side.”

Adam turned his head to the left. Phil paused before letting out a sigh.

“Son of a bitch,” Phil said, shaking his head. “Out repairing drones when you’re walking around with no Wasp. Not even a damn IRD. You the same?”

Marc hesitated before nodding his head.

“Alright, come on. I’ll take you both back to the stadium to get outfitted.”

“What are they?” Adam asked. “The Wasps you’re talking about.”

“New tech to replace the old IRDs,” Phil said as he and the others began walking toward the city. He turned his head, pointing to a small black device attached to his neck below the ear.

“You’re still not telling me what they are,” Adam argued.

The man glanced over at Adam with a frown before shaking his head. “You know, I was in government contracting before shit got real and America got bloody. Back then, I had to take whatever crap was spewed my way with a friendly yes sir, no sir, may I wipe your ass, sir. Had a nice life out in Fayetteville, but then the world went and lit itself afire. Just look at me now—a bona fide Staff Sergeant fighting for the Patriarchs. Now, I’ll only say this once. If you don’t bite your tongue and stop asking questions, I’m gonna reach into that big mouth of yours and rip it out, got it? Good. Let’s go.”

Adam nodded his head quietly, firming his jaw as he, Marc, Phil, and two wordless Recruits walked onward for ten minutes in silence. Adam glanced at the man sideways a few times, wondering what the road that lay behind Phil Hebron had looked like. For all Adam knew, he might have walked right past the guy a few months ago when his family was hunkering down at Fort Bragg. He wondered if Phil had a family, maybe a wife and kids. He wondered if they too were dead. Adam shook his head, cursing himself for thinking about his family when he should be focusing on the moment. Such thoughts only conjured the primitive pain that slumbered inside of a memory.

“My family died at Fort Bragg,” Adam said, risking a conversation as they quietly approached the waking city. “My wife, my kids, my parents—all gone the night the war began.”

“No shit,” Phil replied, turning to Adam with curious eyes. “Almost lost it all that same night to some trigger happy asshole in Fayetteville. Watched a couple of good friends die in the process, but such was their luck. I made it out fine and that’s fine by me.”

“Good for you,” Adam muttered.

“You travel near the Gulf?” Phil asked.

“No,” Adam replied, glancing over at Marc. “Mostly Tennessee.”

“Lucky for you,” Phil replied, shaking his head. “They got me in Florida a month into it all. Took a dart to the trachea.” Phil turned to Adam, pointing to a circular scar on the side of his neck. “Nauseating stuff, but I guess it makes us all as submissive as dogs and as vicious as cobras.”

“I know what you mean,” Adam replied, shuddering as he thought back to Derrick plunging a knife into Lev’s chest with the hopes they’d kill him too for recompense.

“They’re bullet-sized trackers with tiny speakers imbedded in them,” Phil said as they finally neared the bustle of the stadium.

“What are?” Adam asked, glancing up from the pavement.

“The Wasps,” Phil replied. “They’re still shot out of the retrofitted FODs and can track your movements, communicating your orders via a tiny speaker as you fight. After that debacle in Montgomery, the guys up top came up with a new way to guide those on the ground. We’re fresh out of FODs, but we can implant them manually at the stadium. Once we get more drones in from down south, those taken on the field will be turned immediately before being tracked and deployed on an individual level. It’s going to be total control over the masses—no more chaos and confusion like the days when I was recruited. Five seconds under when you don’t even know what hit you…well, that’ll change the best of us into the worst of us.”

“I’m sure,” Adam said with an uncertain smile as they neared the stadium. The throngs of men and women were growing thicker—some existing behind the hollow eyes of a new Recruit while others held firmly to a grim determination.

Think, Adam!
Adam cried out silently as he and Marc neared their demise.
You have to get out of here. You have to figure out a way to get out now and warn them! You can’t—

“Captain Castle!” Phil shouted, picking up his pace as he shouted toward a crowd of soldiers leaving the stadium’s main exit. The man at their front didn’t acknowledge Phil—his eyes concentrated on a handheld map as he spoke to the men who walked beside him. “Captain Castle!” Phil muttered a curse as the man continued to display no signs of recognition. “Victor!”

“What?” a man barked back, turning to Phil as he looked up from a map. “What do you want Hebron?”

“I need two Wasps,” Phil replied.

The man named Victor gazed back at Phil, his narrow eyes filled with irritation and incredulity.

“Really, Phil?” Victor replied, glancing to the men beside him before shaking his head. “You’re interrupting us on the day of battle to ask for a pair of Wasps?”