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

by Jordan Ervin

  “I understand you’re not really out there to chop wood,” Jack replied, shifting his rifle on his shoulder. “We used to see a lot of crap every day working the streets. We’d arrest kids for possession of narcotics only to find them dead at their parents’ house later, lifeless after choking to death on their own vomit the day after the courts let them off with no more than a slap on the wrist. We’ve seen bodies strewn across the interstate because some teenage kid couldn’t resist responding to a stupid text message. I’ve witnessed carnage that kept me up at night, whether it was an old man putting a bullet through his skull on Christmas Day or a young girl dying in a drive-by shooting. After a few years, you learn to grow numb to it with repetitive tasks. Some guys would go to the range to hone their skills, while others would tinker on a bike or car. So disappearing by yourself to empty your mind of everything but the drip of rain and the fall of the axe is understandable. I’ve been there and I know what you’re doing.”

  Adam looked back at Jack for a few silent moments before smiling and letting loose a chuckle.

  “What is this?” Adam began, “An intervention?”

  “No,” Jack began. “It’s your new friends looking after you. It’s me, Alan, our wives, Lillian, and everyone you see here hoping and praying that you might be willing to be the man we know you are and prove Marc’s words true.”

  “Why the hell do you all care anyway? What, do you hope I might lead you to some great victory? Do you think America might resurface through me? Do you think freedom can ring again? Wake up! What we had before was a gift squandered. America was a lightning bolt from the heavens and as the saying goes, lightning doesn’t strike the same spot twice.”

  Jack paused for a moment, staring back at Adam silently as Lillian and Alan stood to his sides. They all looked forward quietly, the new arrivals included, as though studying him for the first time. He hated that they had clung to him like he was some superstar from the moment he arrived. He had tried to discourage them with silence and absence, but that had apparently only fueled their curiosity. He now saw no other way than to dishearten them with cruel words. It was a thin rope he walked—trying to be thankful for their help while attempting to be ungrateful for their presence.

  “You know,” Jack finally began, “it’s funny how one of the hardest decisions we’ve faced during times like these is the decision to let new people in.”

  “Then why save us?” Adam asked. “Why bring us back here and let us in? You were fine before we came. We were the ones who needed help, not the other way around.”

  “I’m not talking about letting you in for shelter,” Jack replied. “I know there’s evil on the road looking for strangers to exploit, but there are also those of us who like to consider ourselves decent, patriotic folks. Saving you in Bryson City wasn’t something my friends and I needed to debate about as we watched them drag you out of a house for execution. I was more than willing to align my rifle sights with an Imperium Officer that was about to murder a group of strangers. When we found out who you were…well, there was no question of whether or not we were going to help a patriot like yourself. But like I said, that’s not what I was talking about.”

  “Then what are you talking about?” Adam asked, his eyes narrowing as he gazed back at them.

  “I’m talking about letting people in on your story,” Jack said. “There is no one alive today who doesn’t have a story to tell. Our numbers have fluctuated up and down since we arrived here. We started out with one doctor, five nurses, eight sickly toddlers, two cops and an overweight security guard who’d jump if you sneezed. Now, we’re almost forty strong and we’ve been fortunate to stave off any action other than saving your ass in Bryson City.”

  “Listen, I’m grateful for your hospitality and I’m sure my friends are too.” Adam glanced over at Gene and Edward. “But please don’t think I’m someone for you to unite behind. Maybe once I was zealous and ready to lead. Now…I’ve lost too much and I don’t think I’m ready to share my story with anyone. Talking about it all won’t bring anyone back.”

  “It’s not about bringing people back,” Lillian said, stepping forward slowly with her arms crossed in front of her. “I don’t tend to put too much stock in random chance. I don’t believe Jack and Alan just happened to save the life of a man that had nearly stopped all of this from happening in the first place.”

  “The man who tried and failed,” Adam said with the shake of his head. “I failed to stop that son of a bitch from destroying this country and I lost everything because of it. Millions lost everything because I failed. Now, those around me—my family, Marc, and Tanker—they continue to pay the price for my incompetency. That’s my sad and cruel story, and it’s all I care to share. Especially with a group of people who spent the winter warming themselves by a fire while Americans died.”

  As Adam finished, he immediately wished he could take the final words back. He was grateful for their aid and he knew Marc might not have survived without Lillian’s medical expertise. Still, for Adam, bringing up the past was like taking a surgeon’s knife to a wound that just wouldn’t heal properly.

  “You’re right,” Jack said after a lengthy pause. “I don’t think it right of us to ask for you to share your story when we’ve withheld ours from you.”

  “Jack,” Adam began, wanting to apologize for his rudeness, “I—”

  “Alan and I had been on patrol in Nashville when the chaos finally hit. And boy, did it hit like a hammer to the chest. Our wives—Leila and Christy—they had both been nurses at Vanderbilt Hospital. Despite our years on the force and our loyalty to the city we loved, we had a hard decision to make when things got bad. Abandoning our jobs and knowing full well that people would die because no one could protect them…that wasn’t easy. But we did what we had to do. We rushed to the hospital and got our wives out as the population began dismantling Nashville at the seams. Though we were quick to flee our duties, our wives wouldn’t budge. Despite our pleas with them, they had refused to abandon the children they were charged with looking after in the Neonatal ICU. So Alan and I went to survey the threat at the front entrance. And that’s when every drug-hungry asshole in the city decided to storm the hospital and take whatever they could. As we tried to protect our wives and the others while they fled to safety, I took a piece of shrapnel in the back from an exploding truck, causing me to black out and miss the next few hours.”

  “While Jack was unconscious,” Alan cut in, stepping forward, “we moved him to the NICU wing where Lillian performed emergency surgery to remove the shrapnel and stop the bleeding. A security guard named Jim Gregory and I had barricaded the wing and protected eight nurses, two doctors—including Lillian—and twenty-six high-risk infants until the initial rush for drugs had died down. Jack woke the following day, and after a week of gathering what supplies we could from the hidden cubbies and untouched desk drawers while the city calmed down, we left the hospital and began a week long trek to get here. The entire time we had been expecting to meet up with Jack’s parents as soon as we made it here.”

  Adam paused, glancing from Alan to Jack. “Where are your parents?” Adam asked slowly.

  “Buried up on the hill near your pile of logs,” Jack replied. “I led us here thinking we’d have a safe haven with food and shelter. By the time we had arrived, it had been six weeks since I had last spoken with my parents and I was hoping we’d find them hunkering down and ready to take us in. I never thought I’d find dad dead from a heart attack and mom hanging from the barn rafters. You never grow up thinking one of your parents might….” Jack looked over at the nearest barn, breathing heavily. “Well, you think they’d fight till the end and never contemplate the easy way out. They left us with shelter, food, and a decent amount of pre-Chambers ammo, but it sure would have been nice to taste mom’s cooking and give her a kiss on the cheek one more time.”

  “I’m sorry,” Adam said after a lengthy pause. “I lost my entire family at Fort Bragg. I…I know what it�
�s like.”

  “As do we all,” Jack said. “Losing loved ones is probably the one thing every one of us has in common. As much as we’ve grown and as well protected as we might seem, we’ve had to bury five adults, seven kids, and eighteen toddlers. Eighteen little babies dead because we couldn’t give them what they needed.” Jack paused, glancing back at the house before shaking his head again. “At some point, you stop wanting to get to know people. You don’t want to be able to say anything when you’re done covering up the grave. You want to be numb. But now…I don’t know. The others and I have been talking and we don’t know if you and your friends are people we can afford to be numb with. I think your story is something we need to hear.”

  Adam stared back at Jack and Alan for a few silent moments before shaking his head.

  “But why?”

  “Because we are just about done here, Mr. Reinhart,” Jack said. “We’re nearly out of food and supplies, and our best attempts to scavenge for more have been turning up short. We’ve got some crops we can plant in the next month or two, but one late frost and we’re all starving in August. We have the lake, but fishing to feed forty mouths won’t work forever. Even all that’s dependent on us rationing what little we have left. I hate to say it, but our little refuge here won’t be supporting us that much longer.”

  “And what does that have to do with you listening to my story?” Adam inquired slowly.

  “Because if we’re going to leave this place, it’s going to be because we’re following the lead of the one man who almost stopped this all from happening. For now, we’d like to know more about that man.”

  “You don’t want to follow me,” Adam quickly replied.

  “Why is that?” Lillian asked.

  “Because those who follow me get shot,” Adam replied coldly. “Besides, I don’t want to lead and—”

  “Which is precisely why we want to follow you,” Jack cut in. “You know, back when half the country was searching for you, I never thought you were guilty. I never really believed Lukas was telling the truth about you or much anything else for that matter. As I watched Dan Martin spill everything you had fought for before Lukas spilled his blood, I knew for certain you were innocent. Adam, I only want what’s best for my family and friends here. I don’t want to follow someone that’s only interested in vengeance and war. I want us to follow someone who is interested in seeing the flag fly again.”

  “And what makes you think I don’t want vengeance?” Adam asked.

  “Because I don’t think a man that fought so hard to preserve the United States will succumb to vengeance if there is a glimmer of hope that America might still live.”

  Adam stared back at Jack quietly, his mind alive with thoughts of hope and doubt. He wanted to believe there was more than vengeance in his future, but the deaths and pain of those he cared about wouldn’t stop nagging at him.

  “I don’t know,” Adam said, shaking his head after a lengthy pause.

  “What don’t you know?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know!” Adam shouted. “You’re looking to me like I’m some great leader and I don’t want any of this. I never wanted to be the guy everyone was looking to for answers. I don’t want your blood on my hands!”

  “But there’s no one else,” Jack replied.

  “Oh, don’t give me that bullshit,” Adam replied angrily. “Why me? Why not Gene or William or you?” He motioned to Jack. “You’ve done a heck of a job getting your people through the winter. I’ve done nothing but fumble around from one place to the next.”

  “It’s been a long time since America got behind someone that wasn’t in it for the personal gain,” Jack said. “I might be capable of getting my group through the winter—and you can bet your ass I’ll be fighting to get us through whatever tomorrow brings—but you’re the one capable of breathing life back into the country. Not Gene, not William. You, the congressman who can still revive the land of the free. One homestead might unite behind me, but a thousand communities that want to see America again would unite behind you.”

  “Look, I want to see America live again just as badly as any one of you, but I’m just one man with no hope and barely enough energy to make it through tomorrow. Even if I thought I could help, I have to be realistic about that. I don’t think I can do what you’re asking. I just don’t—”

  “I’m not looking for promises and guarantees,” Jack interrupted, his lips curving into a grin. “That would be the political thing to do and we most definitely don’t want a politician. We want a humble, yet fierce, patriot. I just want to see a man like you do nothing more than try. But first, we all want to hear your story. We want to know more about the man we think is worth us uniting behind. That’s all we’re asking of you today.”

  My story, Adam thought quietly as he stared back at Jack. It had been a long time since he had thought about all of the events leading up to his battle for America. He had fought so hard and lost so much. He had tried to forget the painful past that lay behind him. As much as he wanted the memories of yesterday to remain buried, he wanted to move on from the loss of his family and believe Marc’s words from earlier.

  America’s not dead yet.

  “My story,” Adam began, clearing his throat. “It all starts a year and a half ago with me, my son Judah, and the largest elk I’d ever seen….”

  Chapter Twelve

  Flight of the Iris

  Judah exhaled a hazy breath into the night and smiled as he watched the campfire light illuminate his jubilant sisters and their clumsy dance. Eva was now running circles around Grace with her arms out wide while singing the theme to The Maidens of Monarch—a summer blockbuster from a few years prior that had continued to harass parents through the radio up until the collapse of the United States. Judah doubted something as trivial as the destruction of America could have ever destroyed the Song of the Maidens, and his sisters’ skit proved his thoughts to be true.

  It had been just over four weeks since their flight from Montgomery and the death of Judah’s grandparents. Eric had wanted to continue at their usual break-neck pace, but everyone else had reached a point where their bodies and minds demanded what rest they could manage. They had fled north after the battle, joining a growing throng of refugees and spending multiple days at a time recuperating in various camps and towns. However, each time they had begun to settle in for more than a few days, they found themselves fleeing northwest as rumors of battle, war, and abduction pursued them.

  Their time on the road had been long, slow, and strenuous. After a few precarious confrontations with other refugees, they had decided to abandon the safety of the masses and march onward as quietly and privately as possible. They now found themselves alone and twenty miles south of Memphis at Arkabutla Lake. Eric ensured them all he had a plan and Judah had yet to find a reason to distrust the one man who had saved them thus far.

  As Eva and Grace finished their skit, raising their hands and blaring out the final note together with the harmony of children bellowing, they each dropped to a knee and bowed their heads, symbolizing the end of the ballroom ballad and the part of the movie where a kingly father returns from battle. Alexandra threw her head back and laughed, exploding with applause while Sarah, Elizabeth, and Trey clapped with approval. Even Eric grinned as he leaned up against a nearby oak, his eyes moving from the two girls to Sarah before raising back up to survey the shadows. Judah smiled and shifted his gun—one of the Ranger-issued, semi-automatic Seven Six-Two assault rifles capable of ripping a six-inch hole through a man at three hundred yards—and raised his hands to clap.

  Instead, he looked down at his weapon and frowned. Judah’s rifle was his reality, not some child’s story about a lonely king attempting to raise his daughters amidst some fantasy war. While that children’s tale had come and passed, Judah’s story continued to unfold day after cold, bitter day. He doubted it would end like some dreamy fairy tale. Though he wanted to hope for more, the only certainty he knew he could look fo
rward to were long hours on the road before he kills his first man. Still, Judah wanted to believe in happy endings and joyful beginnings, and the laughing girl across the fire had given him hope for such an outcome, whether she had intended to or not.

  “Your turn,” Eric said quietly as he tossed Alexandra a small flashlight. “Only you get to follow along in Morse code.”

  “I don’t think I’m that good yet,” Alexandra said with a laugh before turning to Judah. “I bet you could do it by now.”

  Judah smiled quietly as he shook his head in reply. Alexandra tossed the flashlight back to Eric, insisting he give it a try. Much to their surprise, Eric shrugged and started spelling out the lyrics in Morse as the girls sang the song again. Even he laughed as he struggled to keep up with the girls’ quickening pace. Alexandra leaned back and brushed the hair back from her face as her laughter subsided, smiling as she gave both Grace and Eva an over-the-top high five when they ran by. She glanced over at Judah and smiled again. She beamed with beauty, courage, and innocence. Judah’s cheeks grew hot and his chest constricted as he smiled back and nodded.

  You are gorgeous, Judah thought to himself, wishing he had the courage to speak it aloud. What if I did say it? What if I told her how beautiful she is in front of my friends and family? What if I told her she is the sun in a dark world? What if I told her I’d do anything just to see her smile?

  But instead of revealing everything he wanted to say, he simply nodded and looked back into the fire, a sad sense of defeat washing over him. For Judah, it was a strange and shameful thing—being ready to kill a man before finding the courage to tell a girl how he’s fallen for her. The thing was, as much as he thought he was ready to kill, he was still that asthmatic boy wheezing for air in the grocery store as Alexandra fought for him. He needed to prove he could protect her; he just didn’t know how.

  “Never a dull moment with any of you,” Trey finally said as Eric finished and the two girls plopped down next to Sarah. “As much as I’d like to stick around to see what happens once the mean ol’ king has his heart softened by a trio of disobedient dreamers, I think we’ve all seen the movie about a thousand times and heard the song at least five times that. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be back in a bit.”