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

by Jordan Ervin

  “What do you mean Recruits?” Alan asked as he stepped up next to Adam.

  Derrick’s eyes darted back and forth between Adam and Jack before shifting over to Alan, glancing down at the cylinder in his hand.

  “That’s what they’ve been doing,” Derrick replied. “The Patriarchs have been using that synthetic drug to activate extreme pain in order to force people to do what they normally wouldn’t. We ran out a few weeks ago and had to resort to other methods of control. It wasn’t until this morning that they received the new shipment.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to inject the man who left the room alive?” Adam asked.

  Derrick looked back and forth between Adam and Jack, fear filling his eyes. “What do you want me to say? We didn’t know if we were actually going to get more before we attacked. We needed you ready, with or without the drug. We had been keeping everyone alive for subjugation, but two weeks ago, Rendell said we needed to cultivate madness without the drug.”

  “And who’s Rendell?” Lev asked.

  “He’s the madman running this operation,” Derrick replied. “He’s a Patriarch, not a Recruit. He’s been with them for years and does whatever the men down south command. Please, they turned me two months ago. I never wanted to do this but no one can resist that drug once it’s flowing through your veins. They activate it the first day you’re turned. We all know what awaits our disobedience. At least one out of every two were able to avoid it these past two weeks. The lucky ones are those who die by the hammer or knife or whatever we leave them. The rest of us…we’re the ones left alive with no soul. We’re all dead, our bodies just haven’t caught up yet.”

  Adam and the others stared back at Derrick silently. Adam felt pity for Derrick, the man who had tortured him to the point of nearly murdering a friend to end the pain. Adam wanted to believe differently, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he would have been able to do anything differently.

  “You’re not dead,” Adam finally replied. “There’s still hope. Help get us out of here and we’ll make sure it stays that way. We’ll do what we can to free you of whatever is in your blood.”

  Derrick nodded back and took a deep breath as he slowly led them all toward the exit. As they approached the steel door, the latch creaked and began to turn. Everyone immediately tensed, but Alan quickly turned around and hushed them. As the door opened, Alan shoved Derrick forward with one hand as he hid the silver cylinder in a cargo pocket.

  Three men talked quietly on the other side of the door as it opened, their laughter echoing through the hallway behind them. As their eyes found Adam and the others, their laughter cut off. The man at the front—a burly brute with a shaved head and gray stubble lining his jaw—cleared his throat.

  “Both of them?” the man asked, glancing from Adam and Jack to Derrick.

  “Yeah, they’re the last,” Derrick said, glancing over at Adam with a convincing calmness. “Rendell said we can’t wait any longer. He said we’re moving out soon and that we need every man we have. More fodder for the cannons.”

  “About damn time,” the burly man replied. “I say let the new Recruits earn their keep or die trying.”

  “Damn straight,” Derrick said, turning around to face the others. “You boys ready to go?”

  Adam nodded his head quietly, his face emotionless.

  They walked past the steel door and began to make their way through the dimly lit tunnels, winding their way upward once they reached a stairwell. They ascended the stairs and stepped out, the sound of people growing louder. Adam hadn’t realized until that moment how quiet his isolation had been. The sound of civilization was almost as unnerving as the days of silence had been. He had not been able to remotely guess where they were and was quite surprised to gaze through the last pair of open doors at the innards of a large baseball stadium. They stepped out into the main hall and paused as the burly man halted to talk with Derrick.

  Alan hovered close to Derrick, watching his every move. As Derrick and the burly man spoke, Adam glanced to his right. A loud bustling rose from the inner stadium, though he couldn’t see past the glare from the sun that beat at his eyes. He stepped toward a passageway that cut from the main hall to the stadium, shielding his eyes as he moved forward. As his eyes adjusted to the light, his mouth dropped and Adam gaped at what he saw.

  The inner field was packed with people, cots, cooking pots, and containers of slop. Both men and women walked about aimlessly, their faces void of emotion as they ate. Derrick had been right. Those below were dead men and women walking, ready to be set free from a life that had enslaved them.

  Adam leaned up against the concrete wall beside him, fighting back tears as his heart broke for those below him. He believed his failure to stop Lukas Chambers the reason they suffered. He wanted to help them, but had no idea what to do.

  I’m just one man, he thought as he glanced up, his eyes finding a lone drone that hovered five feet above. A year ago, the mass of people below had been free Americans, living life by their own accord. Now, they were carted together, guarded like cattle, and fed from community troughs before their hour of slaughter. If Adam could survive and fight to free them, it would be a fight worth waging.

  North….

  Adam’s eyes went wide as the word echoed again. Though he didn’t believe the words were actually audible, it was so prominent that he couldn’t help but hear it in his soul.

  Why North? Adam finally thought to himself. Why?

  He was met only with silence.

  “Adam!”

  Adam started and turned around, facing the others. They had all stopped and were looking at him as he stood alone in the passageway. He nodded his head and took one more look at the enslaved masses that would soon charge a Texan army or an outpost to the north. I’m sorry, he thought as he sighed, shaking his head before walking back over to the others.

  “You okay?” Derrick asked, his eyes wide with concern.

  “Yeah,” Adam said. “I…I’ve been downstairs for days. It’s just a bit unnerving to see so many people again.”

  “Won’t be that many left tomorrow,” the burly man replied. “Though I’d love for them to soften up the Texans across the river for us to push in and claim this city as ours, rumor is we’ll be moving them up north to take Fort Harding.”

  “What makes you say that?” Alan asked.

  “Cause they’re the last fools inside a thousand miles flying the American flag,” the man replied. “And if there’s one thing the Patriarchs down in New Orleans and the Imperium out east can all agree upon, it’s that they both hate America.”

  Jack glanced over at Adam, his eyes narrowing. Adam firmed his jaw as they set out walking. As they left the stadium, leaving the burly man and his two cohorts behind, they continued following Derrick in silence. Adam had given up hope that someone more than a homestead or stubborn patriot would continue to claim the red, white, and blue. He had figured reviving America would take him uniting thousands of reluctant families scattered across a war-torn country. Now, as Adam thought about the voice and the well-equipped outpost to the north, he wondered if they were about to lose the best chance at saving a fading dream.

  After a lengthy walk across Riverfront Drive—a highway that was teeming with semi-trucks, armored vehicles, anti-air emplacements, and makeshift bunkers to protect it all from the Texans entrenched across the river—they finally turned onto a vacant road that paralleled the river. Within fifteen minutes, they were walking into an old wooden pallet factory.

  They walked into the shadowy factory and paused. Alan took the lead, holding a hand up to the others. He paused before taking a deep breath and whispering into a mic on his wrist.

  “All’s quiet on the western front.”

  Adam glanced from over at Jack and Lev confusedly before looking back into the dimly lit building. Suddenly, five men materialized out of the darkness, each of them holding rifles at the ready. Adam grinned as Gene approached.

  “I w
as starting to think I wouldn’t lay eyes on your ugly face again,” Gene said as he nodded. “Glad to hear you boys weren’t followed.”

  “How did you know we weren’t?” Adam asked as he shook Gene’s hand.

  “Alan,” Gene replied. “All is quiet on the western front means you weren’t followed and haven’t been compromised by whatever they were doing to people in there.”

  “And what if we had?”

  “Well, if you were followed, then that’s your own damn fault. Still, I reckon the eight shooters outside that you didn’t know were watching you would have bought us the time needed to get away. That and the artillery barrage our friends across the river would have unleashed to cover our tracks. But if you were compromised by whatever the hell they’ve been doing in there…we would have done what needed to be done.” Gene turned to Derrick, looking him up and down before glancing over at Alan. “Who the hell is he?”

  Before Alan could speak, Adam stepped forward and cut in.

  “His name is Derrick,” Adam said. “He’s the man that was…responsible for Jack and me over the past few weeks.”

  “And I’m assuming Derrick here was kind enough to put you both up in a five star Marriot, right?” Gene asked unamusingly.

  Adam paused before shaking his head.

  “I figured,” Gene said, stepping up to Derrick. “Edward told me about you. He told me what you made him do, you sick mother—”

  “It’s not like that,” Adam said quickly. “He didn’t…I don’t think he had a choice, Gene.”

  “We all have a choice,” Gene growled.

  “No, I don’t think you understand what they’re doing.”

  “Then enlighten me.”

  Adam proceeded to tell Gene everything from the drugs being used, the massive army they’ve created, and the coming assault on either the Texans or the American outpost to the north.

  “…and I don’t think either one of us would have been able to do anything differently,” Adam said. “If we can get him back across the river and somehow warn Fort Harding then—”

  “I’ll get him across the river, alright,” Gene said. “We have twelve diver propulsion vehicles waiting in the river for all of us and we can make room for one more. You can be damn sure he’s going to pay for his crimes when they hear what he’s done to Texan soldiers.”

  “What do you mean?” Adam replied, glancing over at Derrick “What did you do?”

  Gene turned to Derrick, his eyes afire as he nodded his head. Derrick sighed and took a deep breath.

  “The Patriarchs managed to capture quite a few Texan soldiers over the past couple of months,” Derrick said.

  “Yeah,” Gene said, “and tell our friends here what you did with those men.”

  “We released them back to the other side of the river,” Derrick said, shaking his head. “I never wanted to—”

  “From what I hear, you released the empty shells of men,” Gene rumbled. “You sent them back to Texas in the middle of the night, shakin’ like they were having seizures and screaming like a new babe. They had to put the poor bastards down for pity’s sake. No one had any idea what was wrong with them, but I’m sure they’ll be glad to know their brothers were wallowing in hell for what must have felt like an eternity.”

  “I wasn’t part of that,” Derrick said quickly. “I didn’t—”

  “Don’t you lie to me!” Gene roared, his eyes darting over to Alan. “You have any of the serum?”

  “Yes sir,” Alan replied as he handed the cylinder over to Gene. “We’ve already injected him with a dose to make him comply. You can trigger it with that if need be. We have another three cylinders with ample serum for the Texans to analyze.”

  “Good,” Gene said as he reached out and grabbed the cylinder. He nodded to two of his men and paused before seizing Derrick by the neck. They violently shoved a bulge of white cloth inside Derrick’s mouth, wrapping duct tape tightly across his head and mouth as Derrick attempted to shout.

  “Gene, please!” Adam protested. “Don’t do this. If anyone can argue for this man’s life it’s me. I’m the one he tortured. We can’t—”

  Derrick fell back onto the ground as though an avalanche had struck him. He screamed through his rags—a muffled cry that was truly horrific. He thrashed about like a person who had been tossed on top of a bath of scorching coals. Gene watched quietly, the smallest hint of a smile on his lips as his thumb remained on the glowing blue button.

  “Gene, stop!” Adam bellowed as he reached for the cylinder. Gene pulled it away, shoving Adam backward.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Gene roared. “That man tortured you and hundreds of others. You think he deserves a pardon?”

  “I’m not saying that,” Adam argued. “But if we do this, we become them. If we can’t exist without becoming the darkness, then we’ll forget there was ever a light.”

  “There is nothing but darkness in war,” Gene spat after a pause. He shook his head and pressed the blue button again, deactivating the serum. Derrick’s convulsions halted and he threw up—the bile spraying out the edges of the gag.

  “Just let him go,” Adam pleaded. “It’s not our job to create another victim.”

  “We’re all victims,” Gene replied, shaking his head. “Lev, Marc—get that off his face, will you. I’d hate to see him choke to death before we’re done.” Lev and Marc nodded and walked over to Derrick. “Alan, take this.” He tossed the cylinder over to Alan. “Make sure you hold on to that for me.”

  Lev cut the tape and slowly pulled it away. Derrick spit out the gag—the stench of vomit suddenly heavy on the air. Adam paused to swallow the urge to empty his stomach as well. Lev supported Derrick by the right arm with Marc taking the left. Together, they slowly helped the incoherent man up to his feet.

  “Gene, we can’t keep doing this to everyone we meet,” Adam began. “We can’t—”

  Derrick roared as he quickly drew the knife at Marc’s belt, turning to his right as he buried the blade into Lev’s torso.

  “No!” Gene bellowed as Marc twisted Derrick’s arm behind his back—the knife falling to the ground with a rattle. Marc held out his leg and threw Derrick to the floor. Lev collapsed with a gasp as Derrick started shouting frantically.

  “Shoot me!” he cried as everyone either rushed to Lev’s side or raised a gun to Derrick. “Kill me, damn it, please!”

  Blood fountained from Lev’s mouth as Adam, Gene, and Jack lowered beside him. Alan and the Texans stood guard, their eyes darting outside frantically for any sign of an ambush. Derrick kept shouting as Gene glanced up at the others, trying in vain to hold in Lev’s precious lifeblood.

  “I need gauze and a chem-pack,” Gene said as he worked furiously to save Lev’s life.

  “Will it cauterize that deep of a wound?” one of Gene’s men asked.

  “Just do it, damn it!” Gene shouted as Derrick squirmed and shouted underneath Marc. “And don’t kill him,” Gene growled, pointing a bloody finger at Marc. “I want that son of a bitch alive.”

  Adam grabbed Lev’s hand and gripped it firmly, surprised how tightly Lev held on. It was almost as if Adam’s hand was the only thing Lev could hold on to in his struggle for life.

  “It’s okay, Lev,” Adam whispered as he leaned in close. “You’re going to be fine.”

  “The wound is about an inch below the sternum,” Gene said, reaching down. “Likely a pierced lung. Adam, how deep is the blood on that blade?”

  Adam glanced over at the knife next to him, picking it up with his free hand and looking at the red blade. “At least four inches.”

  “Shit,” Gene grumbled. “Get his vest off and ready the….”

  “Adam,” Lev whispered as Gene continued to bark orders. Lev pulled Adam close—blood running down his cheeks in thin streams as it fell to the floor beneath him.

  “I’m here, Lev,” Adam replied as he leaned in close. “I’m here.”

  Lev worked his mouth, closing his eyes tig
htly as he struggled to breathe and speak. He took one last and clearly painful breath before reopening his eyes. As they opened, his eyes widened, darting to the air above Adam. He smiled and glanced back at Adam, moving his lips though nothing was coming out.

  “What, Lev?” Adam asked. “What is it?”

  Lev smiled, reaching up to grab Adam’s head and pull it down—his lips an inch from Adam’s ear.

  “North,” he whispered, nodding his head slowly.

  “What?” Adam asked, his own eyes now wide with shock. “Lev, what do you—”

  Lev’s eyes shut tightly and he groaned as the chem-pack hissed. He convulsed before falling back to the floor, the glaze of death quickly glassing over his eyes.

  “Shit,” Gene said quickly, “Adrenaline, now! We need to—”

  “Gene,” Adam began quietly, “he’s—”

  “Like hell he is,” Gene said, kneeling over him and pumping his chest. Blood oozed through the knife wound with each compression, though Gene continued to work. He knelt down and wrapped his mouth around Lev’s, plugging his nose and breathing out deeply. Air hissed from the wound, causing Adam to gag as he tore his gaze away. Gene pulled back, shuddering as he wiped the blood away from his mouth and cheeks.

  “Gene, he’s gone,” Adam said, reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder.

  Gene looked down at Lev’s lifeless eyes as his body visibly quivered on the brink of insanity. Pain and hatred quickly contorted his face as he turned around and dove on Derrick. He wrapped his hands around Derrick’s neck and Marc quickly backed away. Derrick tried to yell, but Gene shoved his hand in his face, cutting off his scream.

  “Give it to me,” Gene said, glancing over at Alan. Alan hesitated before handing the silver cylinder to Gene. Gene grabbed it and leaned in close, growling his words. “You see this? I’m going to press this button and make sure it is never deactivated again.”

  Derrick ripped his face away and thrashed about, struggling to free himself from underneath Gene. “Just shoot me! Please, don’t put me back under. I’ll…I’ll…I’ll do it again! I’ll kill every last one of you next time I—”