by Jordan Ervin
“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?”
“But sir, I—”
“Find Sergeant Cree or take care of it yourself,” Victor said, turning to leave. “I don’t have time for this.”
“Derrick’s inspecting the sentries between the bridges,” Phil said.
“And why the hell is he doing that?” Victor replied, halting once again to stare at Phil in frustration.
“Hell if I know,” Phil replied, turning to Adam and Marc. “These new Recruits were out with him and a handful of others. Said they’re having drone issues or something.”
Victor glanced over at Adam and Marc, though his eyes quickly lingered on Adam. Adam tensed as Victor’s gaze bore into him.
“Do I know you?” Victor finally asked.
Adam hesitated, wondering if Victor recognized him. Adam figured he hardly resembled the famous politician he had once been. His thin beard had returned and it had been nearly a month since he did anything that would have resembled bathing, other than his tumble into a cold river. Still, a sudden wave of fear swept over him as his imagination began to wonder what would happen to him if a Patriarch discovered his true identity.
“No,” Adam replied. “I don’t think so.”
“When did they pick you up?” Victor asked, stepping forward. The men Victor had been walking beside followed, their eyes on Adam curiously—their hands on their guns.
“Two weeks ago,” Adam replied. “Up near Memphis.”
“Memphis,” Victor said, staring back at Adam before he shook his head and spit to the side. “You one of those sick child molesters?”
“No!”
“As nasty as we can be, those assholes deserve a lifetime under.” Victor paused to shiver as his words hung in the air.
“Not sure anyone deserves that,” Adam said, breaking the silence.
“Doesn’t matter what any of us thinks,” Victor said, turning to Phil. “We received five thousand more Wasps this morning. Most have been distributed, but I’m sure you can find a couple lying about if you stop screwin’ around and look. Just don’t spend much time on it; they’re only two men.”
“Yes, sir,” Phil said with a nod.
Victor paused, glancing back at Adam with inquisitive eyes. “You sure I don’t know you?”
Adam hesitated, swallowing his fear before taking a deep breath. Show your nerves and you’re a dead man. The pause was brief—the blinking of an eye. He quickly forced a smile to his face and laughed. “Twelve to fifteen thousand Recruits walking around and you pause because one looks familiar?”
“Not a lot of new Recruits laugh or talk back,” Victor replied bluntly.
“Is it not normal for a madman to laugh on the day of his death?” Adam asked, glancing over at the other nearby Recruits who stared back at him wordlessly. “What? We all know what’s coming. Best we can do is charge those lines and laugh as we embrace death.” Adam laughed again, almost convincing himself of insanity as he looked back at Victor. “Besides, I think I would have remembered meeting a man like you.”
Victor stared back at Adam, studying him a moment longer. “What’s your name?”
Adam paused again, this time a bit longer than the blinking of an eye. He tried to remember if he had ever given his name to Derrick. His mind was muddy from the days of torture. If Phil knew his name and he didn’t speak it, they would know something was wrong, but if he gave his name and Victor recognized him, he’d be a dead man or worse.
“Adam.”
“Adam...,” Victor said, pausing as though he were tasting the name on his tongue. “Still nothing. What’s your last name?”
Suddenly, Adam’s skin felt afire with tension. Every eye looking at him seemed to drill through his front, uncovering his true identify and sealing his fate. Think, Adam! What would Gene do? What would Eric have said? Come on you idiot. Say something quick before they—
“Corsa,” Adam said, latching on to Eric’s name as it drifted through his mind. “Adam Corsa.”
“Adam Corsa,” Victor began, looking at the others who only shrugged. Finally, Victor shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. We’ve wasted enough time. Get inside and get what you need. And Phil….” Phil stood there silently, his eyes fixed on Adam as though he were looking at him for the first time. “Staff Sergeant!” Phil’s eyes finally jerked over to Victor. “Take care of them and then find Derrick! Rendell is demanding we start the attack no later than nightfall and you know what happens when we drag our feet.”
Phil nodded and turned to the other two Recruits with him. “You boys find Derrick. I’ll take care of these two.”
Phil led Adam and Marc into the stadium without a word. He glanced back at them a few times with probing eyes. His cocky demeanor had completely shifted into silence and curiosity. They made their way through the masses of civilians turned into meat shields. Thousands of Recruits were marching out of the stadium, walking toward one of two dozen prep stations with downcast eyes. Eventually, Phil led them past a lengthy gathering of vehicles—mostly semis and drone dump trucks. As they neared a row of unused motorcycles and dirt bikes, Phil turned around and faced Marc.
“By the way, I’m going to need your gun.”
“Why?” Adam quickly asked.
“You think
we have enough guns to hand out to every new Recruit?” Phil replied, stepping closer. “I don’t even have a pistol and I outrank you both. Consider yourself lucky that I’m asking nicely.”
“And what are we supposed to fight with?”
Phil paused, glancing over at Adam from the corner of his eye. “You know when they turned me, I had nothing but my own two hands. I found a rock no bigger than my fist and managed to use that to bash a man’s forehead through his cerebral cortex.”
“So you’re arming thousands of men and women with rocks now?” Adam replied.
“We’ve armed a thousand or so with firearms, but non-Chambers systems are hard to come by nowadays” Phil replied. “Still, every army needs its pawns and we’re arming ours with what we can.”
“Like what?” Adam asked as Marc reluctantly unbuckled the holster on his leg and handed it to Phil.
Phil grabbed the pistol and began to fasten it to his leg, pointing to a busy booth toward the back of the parking lot. Atop the table sat a wide variety of weapons.
“Knives, hatchets, axes, and whatever else we’ve found that can make a poorly-armed Recruit appear intimidating. Come on, you don’t need to worry about that for now. We’re wasting time.”
Adam and Marc followed Phil quietly, entering a long, dark hall that branched off from the main gathering area. After a couple of minutes traversing the inner stadium, Phil slowed as he approached a steel door. He paused and glanced behind him before opening the door. He stepped to the side and motioned for Adam and Marc to enter. The room beyond was completely dark.
“What’s in here?”
“What you’re going to need, Mr. Corsa,” Phil replied, smiling as he motioned again. “At the far end you’ll know what I’m talking about.”
Adam walked inside, a hint of chemicals filling his nostrils. The lights in the stadium were dim and the sun had not risen enough to cast light through the open door. All Adam could make out in the darkness were concrete floors, shelves, and the slow drip of water. As he peered into the blackness the door closed and a light bulb lit up behind him.
