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

by Jordan Ervin

  This is it, Adam said, his eyes watering as he braced himself for pain and death.

  The man paused before carefully sliding the knife between Adam’s cheek and the gag, jerking the blade once before the cloth fell to the ground.

  “The cloth gets soaked with sweat and is damn near impossible to untie,” the man said casually as he stepped over to the table. “I’ve found whether I tell them what I’m doing or not, the new Recruits always struggle with a knife against their face. That’s a good thing. Don’t ever stop fighting. It’s the only way you’ll ever find death’s release.”

  “Who are you?” Adam asked, flexing his jaw as though it were as rusty as the door hinges on the far end of the room. “Where am I?”

  Another gasp on the other side of the room caused Adam to turn his head. As he did so, his heart nearly skipped a beat. He wasn’t alone.

  “Jack!” Adam shouted. Jack turned his head, coughing as he gazed at Adam with grave eyes. He paused before grinning and nodding his head.

  “Hey Adam,” Jack said, his eyes narrow with fatigue as he breathed heavily. He then glanced over at the man who had cut Adam’s bonds and spit defiantly. “You want to get me a stick of gum or something? That rag was gagging me and I can taste my own vomit.”

  The man at the table smiled back before shaking his head.

  “Who are you?” Adam asked as one of the men wiped the bile from Jack’s face.

  “I’m Derrick Cree. You can think of me as a bastard, tormentor, or even a mean ol’ son of a bitch. However, I prefer you call me Sergeant. I prefer yes Sergeant or no Sergeant, but feel free to say whatever you want so long as you’re willing to deal with the consequences.”

  “What consequences?” Adam asked.

  “The consequences of disobeying the last nice guy you’ll see before you die,” Derrick replied. “Now that day might be far off, or it might be a few minutes away. That all depends on which one of you makes the right choice first.”

  “The right choice?” Adam said. “What are you—”

  “Don’t listen to him, Adam,” Jack said, spitting on the ground again. “He’s nothing more than a stray cat playing with its food before the kill.”

  The man smiled, chuckling as he reached behind him and began surveying the table. Adam’s eyes flickered down to the wooden surface, surveying the glinting objects for the first time. Hammers, knives, a machete, two crowbars, and an assortment of metallic objects littered a long roll of fabric. Derrick ran his hands over each item as though he were studying its true meaning. Eventually, he grabbed a ten-inch plier, tossed it onto the floor, and began rolling the other items up. He pulled two small covers over each end and secured the roll with three buckles, stepping forward and handing the pack to one of the other men.

  “What are you doing?” Adam asked.

  “I’m doing what I have to,” Derrick replied as he removed a Taser from his belt. “Now here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to hurt you in twelve hours. Both of you. I’m sorry for that, but this only needs to go on for as long as you make it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Adam asked, tensing as he looked down at the black Taser. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Like I said, I’m your Sergeant. We need an army. Luckily for you, our typical means of growing that army have been stalled for the time being. That means you don’t have to endure the living hell I had to when I first became a Recruit. Still, we need a certain…caliber of man, with or without the drugs. Insanity and a desire to seek death is what best cultivates that type of man, so without our synthetic persuasions, we’ve had to resort to other methods. Besides, this has become somewhat of a tradition, so it seems. No need for cowards. We only need the mad and vicious.”

  “What are you going to do?” Adam asked.

  “I’m going to come in here once every twelve hours and electrocute you both—pushing your bodies and minds to the brink of madness. It won’t kill you, but it’s going to hurt. It will hurt very badly. You’re going to cry when you hear that latch slide back. You’re going to beg us to stop. You’ll scream and howl and pray to God for deliverance, as so many others have. But I want you to know that God’s not here. He won’t save you, just like your friends who shot up our men on that bridge nine days ago won’t save you. This city is locked down tight and no one comes in or goes out without us knowing. Now this is all going to go on for as long as you let it. Though we’d like to have each of you—being that you both have the look of death in your eyes—the Patriarchs have many soldiers and currently demand quality over quantity.”

  “Patriarchs?” Adam asked, his eyes widening. “You’re…you’re one of the Patriarchs?”

  “Six months ago, I would have gone to my grave defending America’s shores from the Patriarchs,” Derrick replied. “I was one of those few who actually fought back against them. I suppose they don’t even mind knowing I still hate them with every fiber in my body. Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter what I think. They know I’ll do whatever they want so long as I’m under their spell. Right now, they want me to help build their army and charge the fray without fear. My guess is you’ll be no different in a few weeks.”

  “Whatever the hell you say,” Jack said. “Just kill me and get it over with. Let him go.”

  “What are you talking about?” Adam asked, looking over at Jack confused. “Jack, don’t—”

  “That would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?” Derrick replied. “You see, we’ve got nearly eleven thousand right now ready to charge hell with a water gun at the push of a button. I know this because I’m one of them. But we need more than that. We need to filter through the other six thousand who don’t have the drug in their system—men and women just like you two. We need to separate the weak from the strong before battle. You’re going to cross a river for us and soften up the troops on the other side. If you survive this room, you’ll likely die in that battle and be free. But if you can make it through and endure till the end, maybe you’ll end up like me. Maybe life won’t be so bad as long as you do everything you’re told before they can activate the hell that will soon run through your veins.”

  “I don’t get it,” Adam said. “Where are we? Who are you attacking?”

  Derrick glanced to Jack, smiling before shaking his head. “My money is on you,” Derrick replied, approaching Adam and reaching overhead before he unfastened his chains. Adam slumped to the ground, his legs weak with the sudden weight. One of the men on the other side of the room did the same thing to Jack, though Jack was able to catch himself. “Granted, I didn’t think that wormy friend of yours would have lasted a day in the room with a stranger. He didn’t even wait for our first visit. As soon as he hit the floor after we unchained him, he crawled over, grabbed the ball-peen hammer we gave them, and did what he had to do. Saved us a lot of time.”

  “Who?” Adam asked.

  “Names don’t matter in this army,” Derrick said with a shrug.

  “What did you mean by quality of men?” Adam asked, shifting his weight as he slowly rose to his knees. “What are you going to do to us?”

  Derrick glanced at Adam before shaking his head again and looking over at Jack. “You look like you understand what’s going on,” Derrick said. Jack looked up and glanced over at Adam before nodding his head. “Why don’t you explain the situation to your friend or do what needs doing.”

  Jack glanced back over at Adam, concern lining his face as his eyes flickered down to the pliers. He sighed heavily before clearing his throat.

  “They want soldiers who are willing to forfeit their souls to follow orders,” Jack replied. “They want a man willing to kill his own friend and they want us to decide whether that man is you or me.”

  Adam’s eyes widened before he too glanced down at the tool.

  “No,” Adam said. “I’m not going to kill him.”

  “Typical response,” Derrick said, nodding to the other guys. “Let’s go. We’ll have food for you every eight hours, if you la
st that long, and we’ll be back every twelve. If you do the math, that means every other electrotherapy session will also be feeding time. Those tend to get a little messy, especially since we feed you first. But you’ll eat well when you do eat and the guy who wises up and gets the job done first gets a nice, juicy steak. We don’t want our soldiers getting weak on us, now do we? Might even throw in a girl or two if you really impress us. And remember, those synthetics from Brazil could arrive any day now. Word is we have no more than ten, maybe twelve days of waiting, so long as nothing else interferes. If you’re both still alive by then, I can assure you you’ll wish you were not. You think you know pain now? Well, let’s just see who gives in first. Go ahead, get comfy and talk freely. It doesn’t matter how close you are. In the end, one of you will cave.”

  Derrick turned without a word and opened the door. He and his two armed friends left the room, shutting the door behind them and sliding the lock back in place.

  “No one is killing anyone,” Adam said.

  Jack sighed before walking over to the wall and leaning up against it. “Adam, I worked some pretty shitty parts of town when I was a cop. I dealt with murderers, rapists, drug addicts, and madmen more often than I care to think about. As different as they were, they all shared a common trait. They wondered where they went wrong. They wondered where they took a wrong turn. They might not have always said that aloud, but I could see it in their faces. No one wants to be the bad guy, but sometimes…well, sometimes it’s forced upon us, leaving us to wonder where we went wrong. Needless to say, I refuse to live like them. I won’t go wrong.”

  “Jack, I’m not going to kill you,” he said. “Your wife. Alan. Everyone that’s been with you since this all started. Don’t give up on them. Don’t give up on me right now. We can beat this, together. We can outlast them, no matter what they do to us. And we’ll find a way out of this.”

  Jack reached up and wiped a tear away, glancing to the side before his eyes flickered down at the pliers. After a pause, he lay down and rolled over, facing the other way.

  “Look at the bright side,” Jack whispered. “I don’t think anyone recognized you. I’ve got a feeling we’d be in a heap of shit if they did. I say we keep it that way.”

  Adam paused before slowly nodding his head.

  “Get some sleep,” Jack said. “We’ll need it if we get a chance to get out of here.”

  Despite everything Adam had said, he too glanced down at the tool meant to usher in death. He tried to imagine killing anyone with a set of pliers, but all he could think of was dying by them. It was sadistic, and he wondered if he would die quietly should Jack choose to fight.

  Adam slowly laid down—closing his eyes, though he knew no sleep would come. As he fought back against the hopelessness that overwhelmed him, he began to cry. Adam wanted to pray for comfort, courage, and deliverance from evil, but all he could manage to do was quietly weep.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A Shroud of Tears and a Laugh of Daggers

  Awareness slowly enveloped Lukas Chambers as he was pulled from the blackness that had overwhelmed him for some time. A constant and rhythmic beeping filled his ears, much like that of a bus or a dump truck backing up. As his mind awoke further from the void, a voice echoed through the darkness.

  “…shouldn’t have trouble breathing, but I want your eyes fixed on that monitor. Alright, his eyes are opening. Lukas Chambers, can you hear me?”

  Lukas opened his eyes gingerly. A thin, horizontal spear of light sliced through the stupor as his ears slowly registered the words of the man in white that hovered above him.

  “Check Oxygen levels,” the man said before glancing back down at Lukas. He tapped Lukas twice on the cheek with a gloved hand. “Lukas, can you hear me?”

  “Who…who are you?” Lukas was surprised with the weakness of his voice.

  “I’m Doctor Isaac Livingston. Can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” Lukas replied. He tried to swallow, but his throat felt as though a jar of sand had been poured down it. He then tried to cough, but all that escaped was a frail groan. “Where am I?”

  “You’re at the White House,” Isaac said. “How’s your breathing?”

  “Fine,” Lukas said, though he took the deepest breath he could to prove it to himself.

  “Good,” Isaac replied. “Do you feel any pain?”

  Pain, Lukas thought, his mind probing his body for any signs of discomfort. He felt one part throb, three parts numb. A distant ache emanated from his thigh, though it was so weak he wasn’t sure it was actually there. However, the one thing he knew to be very real was the panic as he thought back to the car, Jamie, and his wife.

  “Maria,” he said, trying to push the doctor’s hands away. “Where…where is she?”

  “Lukas, look at me; I need you to focus. You’re weak and incoherent and I need to ask you some questions before—”

  “Where is she?” Lukas shouted, though it was more of a whimper than anything. “Please, you have to—”

  “Blood pressure is lowering,” a voice called out from the side. “Heart rate is rising.”

  “Put him back under and administer five CC’s of the N-Twelve,” Isaac said quickly. “Watch his heart rate and program the injection for core targeting. If he loses extremities, so be it.”

  “Maria…is she….” Lukas’ eyes fluttered shut again, and the darkness began to return. The last thing he thought about before being swept up in the nothingness was love and betrayal.

  Maria….

  Time stretched on into nothingness before the beeping slowly returned, intermixed with a sad and euphonious symphony. Lukas opened his eyes. No doctors or nurses stood above him now, only the fluorescent lighting and a few meandering motes of dust. He thought back to the doctor’s words and suddenly wondered if he had lost any limbs. He flexed his fingers, grabbing his sheets with weak hands. The air he breathed and the muscles he failed to move—everything felt heavier than it should have. It was almost as though he was submerged in gelatin, unable to do much but fight the panic inside.

  “Hello?” he said.

  A few seconds passed before a quiet voice called out from the right.

  “Ah, there you,” a familiar voice replied. Lukas shifted his head slightly to the right and watched as Jacob Brekor pulled up a chair to the side of his bed. Jacob pressed a red button above the bed and sat down before closing his eyes and raising his chin ever so slightly. “They call themselves Two-Cellos and the song is titled Benedictus. Not one of the ancient classics, mind you, but an unquestionable modern masterpiece. I have found that no other composition can cultivate such sorrow and…hope. I once spoke to you not far from this room that I would share with you my favorite tune when the timing was right. Well, here we are at last. I had hoped for better circumstances, but such is life. So tell me, my son, how do you feel?”

  “What day is it?” Lukas asked quickly. “What happened? Maria, is she…did she….”

  “It is March twentieth, twenty thirty-one,” Jacob replied, raising a see-through tablet and reading his notes scribbled on the screen. “On this day in history, Albert Einstein published the theory of relativity, the USA illegally invaded Iraq for the second time, and my favorite novel of all time—Into the Breach—was released. As far as what happened and why you are here, you were nearly killed by Jamie Rowe six days ago, though she failed at the cost of her life. And Maria…she’s alive, awake, and nearby. I can take you to see her tomorrow once you’re—”

  “No,” Lukas began as he tried to sit up, “we can go right….” He fell back down to the bed, shaking his head.

  The door opened and in walked a throng of doctors and nurses. Isaac Livingston—the doctor at the front—walked over to the bed, examining Lukas as the nurses examined the equipment. Eventually, Isaac smiled as he glanced over at Jacob.

  “Jacob,” Isaac said with the nod of his head.

  “Doctor Livingston, I presume,” Jacob replied with a smile.

  �
��Well, that never gets old with you, now does it?” Isaac said as he shook his head and laughed.

  “Never,” Jacob replied with a grin.

  “I don’t presume to think you’ll be bringing anymore of that miracle injection anytime soon?” Isaac asked.

  “Afraid not,” Jacob replied. “That vein in that gold mine has run dry until I can locate and…persuade an old friend to provide more.”

  “That’s a shame. I’d sleep easier at night as the Sovereign’s new emergency physician knowing I had something like that on hand.”

  “What happened?” Lukas said. “Am I…paralyzed?”

  “No,” Isaac replied. “Your body will be weak and you’ll be unable to walk unassisted for the next three to six months. Once the last of N-Twelve wears off, you can graduate to crutches and eventually walk again. Until then, you’ll have to use a wheelchair.”

  Lukas nodded his head, wiping a tear away from his eye as he soaked in the news. Three to six months, he thought. All because of your selfish ignorance. You worthless coward! You fool! And what about Maria?

  “Isaac, I thank you for everything you’ve done,” Lukas said. “The Imperium…no, I personally owe you a debt. It will not be forgotten.”

  “Your dream is my dream, my Sovereign,” Isaac said with a bow before motioning to the other doctors and nurses. “A world united as one.”

  Lukas nodded back, struggling to keep the tears at bay as everyone but Jacob left the room.

  “Jacob…I’m sorry,” Lukas said as he fought to keep himself composed. “I did this. I shouldn’t have listened to her. I—”

  “We did this, Boy,” Jacob said with a frown. “As much as I’d like to lay the blame at your feet, I am the one who brought Jamie to your home in the first place. No, I did not know who she really was, but that is no excuse. Our enemies are plenty and my failure to identify the loyalties of one nearly cost us both everything. So please, forgive me as well.”