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

by Jordan Ervin

  Adam paused, subduing the urge to shout again in frustration. He took a deep breath before proceeding. “I don’t know. I was told four months ago that they were dead—killed when Fort Bragg was destroyed, but there was a soldier I knew with them in Fort Bragg and I heard a rumor he might have survived. If so…I don’t want to hope against reason, but they might have as well.” Adam stepped forward, lowering his hands as he began to plead. “Please, I’ll be happy to share everything with you one day. Right now, you have to ready your men for war!”

  “The soldier that was with them,” Tyler began, the ferocity in his voice dissipating as he stepped forward. “Did he have a name?”

  “Eric Corsa,” Adam replied.

  Tyler’s gaze widened ever-so-slightly as he quietly regarded Adam. Seconds passed with nothing, Tyler’s eyes glazing over with clear shock. Finally, Tyler mumbled something inaudible before turning to a man next to him.

  “Activate the master alarm! Radio Eric. Tell him to find Sarah Reinhart and—”

  Adam mumbled incoherently as an assortment of emotions slammed into him like a wrecking ball. He stumbled forward, near the point of passing out with shock.

  “They’re here?”

  “Your family is here, Mr. Reinhart,” Tyler replied, smiling as he reached out to steady Adam. “They arrived a couple of weeks ago with a handful of others. My wife is the governor of Fort Harding and we helped them out when they first arrived. If you’ll come with me, I can—”

  “Sir!” a guard on the wall shouted. “Radio is down. We can’t reach anyone.”

  “Try another frequency,” Tyler replied quickly.

  “We already scanned all channels,” the guard replied. “We’ve got nothing.”

  “Forget about it for now,” Tyler replied as all the guards began to tense. “Activate the defense sirens and—”

  “Movement on the road!” another guard cried out from atop the wall. “Two trucks incoming. Two miles out and closing fast.”

  “Damn it!” Tyler growled, circling his hand in the air and motioning to the wall. “Everyone on the wall! I want that siren up now!”

  Adam and Marc ran beside Tyler, crossing the pavement quickly before passing under the gate. Once they were through, the gate lowered and two dually pickups moved forward to block off the entrance—the drivers quickly exiting and climbing ladders that had been lowered for them. Adam followed Tyler up a flight of makeshift stairs that had been built against the back of the wall, his mind racing with hope and fear as they mounted the steel containers.

  “I have three kids,” Adam said, his eyes darting back and forth between Tyler and the road. “They were all together with my parents at Fort Bragg. Did they all make it?”

  “There are two little girls, Grace and Eva, and two teenagers named Judah and Alexandra,” Tyler replied as he raised a set of binoculars to his eyes. “There was an older lady named Elizabeth and a younger man named Trey, but that’s all I know.”

  Adam muttered a prayer of thanks as his legs nearly gave out, fighting back tears as he shifted his eyes to the road, a hundred thoughts racing through his mind. Where are mom and dad? Who is Alexandra? Where have they been? My God, they’re here! He shoved the growing list of questions out of his mind for the moment, focusing on the two dump trucks that raced toward them on each side of the highway.

  “What are they hitting us with?” Tyler asked as the sirens—courtesy of old police cruisers—finally began to whine behind them.

  “All I know is they had dozens of semi-trucks they were packing full of people,” Adam replied.

  “Any idea how many?”

  “Thousands,” Adam said. “Somewhere around twelve thousand if they send everyone.”

  “Twelve thousand?” Tyler muttered, his eyes wide with alarm.

  “They’re civilians used against their will by a drug,” Adam said quickly. “They’re only armed with knives and hand tools.”

  “Surely they won’t charge gun fire,” Tyler said, looking over at Adam as the trucks rumbled forward without slowing, now only a mile away. Thick steel plates covered the two trucks, each with an angular metal wedge on the front like a massive snowplow.

  “You’re wrong,” Adam said, glancing over at Tyler. “I don’t know what the hell they’ve juiced them with, but those men and women will storm this base and fight to the death.”

  Tyler slowly pulled his gaze away from Adam and began shouting at his men.

  “Snipers at the ready!” he shouted. “Aim for the tires when they’re close. Hit them when—”

  The loud cry of engines howled across the road as twelve motorcycles that had been hidden behind the trucks raced around them, screaming toward the blockade.

  “Fire!” Tyler shouted as his men unleashed a deadly volley. Two of the riders fell, skirting across the pavement before violently exploding, causing Adam and every other man on the wall to jump with shock. The explosions took out three other bikes, causing a chain reaction of three more air-displacing detonations that shook the ground. The seven remaining bikes screamed forward, swerving as sniper fire struck the pavement around them.

  “Get off the wall!” Tyler shouted, grabbing Adam as he turned and bolted for the edge. They leapt from the top of the steel container, arms flailing through the air as they plunged toward the bed of a pickup truck below. Adam slammed into the bed just as a single deafening blast thundered from behind the blockade. The ground shook and Adam looked back at the barricade just as the roar of the six remaining suicide bombers struck. The steel containers creaked and trembled as fire balls quickly rose in the air. The few men remaining atop the wall were flung backward—human torches cast through the air like fiery rag dolls.

  Tyler opened his mouth to shout and the two armored dump trucks plowed through the gates, parting the battered wall with ease as their momentum continued to carry them onward. The container closest to Adam struck the truck they had jumped into, flinging him around the bed and sending the truck skidding toward the side of the highway. Adam quickly sat up as the pickup jerked to a stop, looking up as both dump trucks began to accelerate again—a lengthy convoy of twenty semi-trucks and at least as many motorcycles following closely behind. The final four tractor-trailers slammed on their brakes and swerved to the sides, tipping on the verge of collapse before coming to a jolting halt.

  A ringing hum intermixed with the roar of fire and the cries of the injured filled the air. Adam raised his head slowly, peering at the four semi-trucks as they sat quietly thirty feet away.

  “Everyone on your feet!” Tyler shouted as he leapt from the bed. Blood plastered his brown hair against his temple, slowly descending down his right cheek. He turned to Adam, grimacing as he tossed him an assault rifle. “I’ll drive! We’ve got to get back to base right away. You two get in the—”

  The ghastly screams of terrified men and women resonated through the air. A few moments later, the back gates on the trailers were thrown open, followed quickly by a bloodthirsty horde of three hundred horrified fiends running straight for the surviving Americans. A wave of overwhelming shock surged through Adam, immobilizing him as he watched the mindless mass of terror approach. It was a momentary hesitation—a brief pause to stand in awe of the ferocity that sprinted toward him before Tyler’s voice broke through his catatonic daze.

  “Open fire!”

  And as suddenly as it had all begun, Adam snapped back to reality—a world in which his family lived, a day in which they might soon die.

  He raised the rifle and howled as he pulled the trigger.

  “I remember being young and pregnant with Judah,” Sarah said, sipping her coffee in between words. Judah and Alexandra sat across from one another, smiling as they listened to her speak. “The thrill and excitement of feeling a life was growing inside me…joyfully intoxicating, to say the least.”

  Alexandra smiled hesitantly before sipping her coffee. Sarah knew she should have stopped the girl from drinking anything with caffeine, but she didn’t wa
nt to overstep herself too soon. For now, she would be a friend and a mother to Alexandra, focusing on the delights of motherhood instead of the little hardships.

  “When do you think I’ll first feel the baby?” Alexandra asked.

  “That all depends,” Sarah said, taking another sip. “I think—”

  The escalating drone of sirens wailing around the campus summoned the sudden urge of panic. Sarah looked over at Judah as he quickly rose, gun in hand. “You two get the girls,” Judah said. “I’ll go—”

  The door flew open and Judah raised his gun.

  “Don’t shoot!” Eric shouted, ducking away from Judah’s aim.

  “What’s happening?” Sarah asked, not realizing she had already leapt to her feet.

  “There’s been an explosion at Southgate One and we’ve lost radio contact,” Eric replied, looking toward Judah. “Get your sisters and Elizabeth, and then get them all to the control room at the Heritage Building.”

  Judah bolted up the stairs without a word.

  “Are we under attack?” Alexandra asked, touching her stomach unconsciously.

  “I don’t know,” Eric replied as footsteps already pounded down the stairs. Judah ran down with Grace in his arms—Elizabeth quickly following with Eva.

  “I heard the sirens and got the girls,” Elizabeth said, standing in a white robe with her hair in disarray.

  “Good,” Eric said, turning to Judah as he held out his rifle. “Take this. I’ll be fine with a standard scope.” Eric exchanged weapons with Judah quickly, glancing at the door as a new series of distant explosions echoed like an approaching thunderstorm. “You’ll need it if you—”

  “I’m not leaving her,” Judah replied flatly, looking over at Alexandra.

  “If there is a breach we’ll need every man we’ve got,” Eric said, his focused and yet fearful eyes darting over toward Sarah. “Just get them to HQ and guard them until you hear more. I’ll be at the gate on the corner of Beebe Capps and Benton. It’s the final blockade between the inner wall and the southern gates.”

  “Wait,” Sarah cut in quickly, grabbing Eric by the hand as he turned to leave. He glanced back at her, his piercing gaze drilling into her. She had so much she wanted to tell him before he charged off into danger, but all she could think about was losing another man she had come to care about. She wanted to tell him that she loved him. She felt foolish she hadn’t done so prior to spending the night with him. Part of her knew what they had done was wrong, but she didn’t care.

  Sarah believed she loved him and let that love supersede the truth that was tucked away in her back pocket.

  “I love you,” she said, raising up to give him a long kiss. She could feel the eyes of everyone else in the room boring into her, but she didn’t care. In that moment—as sirens wailed in the distance and the last of her family stood on the brink of battle—she only cared about the man she loved.

  “Circle the gunships north into strike position and destroy the long range air defenses in Belle Chasse,” Lukas said, watching as his air force approached from the south. “We take their air grid down and that will leave an open door for the Yellow Jackets.”

  “Agreed,” Clark Madison replied. Clark stood at the front of the room as the new Battle Marshal of the Unified Forces while Damian Ross—the Praetorian Guard Commander—paced beside him calmly. There would only be one Battle Lord that day. There would be only the Sovereign. Victory would belong completely to him, as would defeat. “Spectre One, this is Battle Marshal Madison. Circle your squadron north and target—”

  “He’s hitting the anti-air from the north,” a woman cried out from the back of the room. “Send the—”

  A quick surge of suppressed gunfire filled the room behind Lukas, followed by cries of shock and horror. Lukas smiled, turning his chair just in time to see Sandra Bowie slump down in her chair, eyes glassing over with death.

  “Well, well,” Lukas said with a grin. “I did not suspect her. Anyone else care to join Sandra in treason?” The shocked attendees sat there stunned, shrieking away from Sandra’s bloody corpse. “Very well.” Lukas said, turning to the Battle Marshal and nodding his head. “Just as we discussed.”

  “Spectre One, belay that order and remain out of range until further notice,” the Battle Marshal said. “Hawk One, this is Command. Move your squadron in now and hit the defenses from the south. Stay below radar until you’re on them.”

  “It was all a ruse?” Jacob asked, his face beaming with amusement.

  “Any time one of Sigmund’s embedded eyes relays what we’re doing, we alter the plan,” Lukas said, glancing behind him. “Their air defenses in New Orleans will soon be focusing on the skies to the north. They won’t have time to readjust before our fighters hidden to the south sweep over them.”

  “Satellite imagery confirms all air-defense vehicles are rotating their turrets northward,” Clark said. “Hawk One is low against the Gulf and will strike from the south within twenty-five seconds.”

  “Are the Praetorians ready?”

  “Yes, my Sovereign,” Damian Ross replied as a wave of thirty fast moving jets began bombing the air defense grid. Six jets were lost before the bombing was completed. Lukas ignored them as they completed their run, refusing to dwell on his losses. Anything for victory. “We can deploy troops—”

  “Sovereign!” Lukas turned. A young Sovereign Guard jogged to Lukas’ side, clearly upset and nearly out of breath. “We might have a problem.”

  “What is it?” Lukas asked.

  “Maria Brekor,” the man replied. “She is missing.”

  “What?” Lukas breathed, rotating his wheelchair to face the man as a cannonball of fear settled in the pit of his stomach. “She was here fifteen minutes ago.”

  “I just received word over the hardline,” the guard replied. “She had requested that the Sovereign Guards in the garage take her for a drive.”

  “Where did they go?” Lukas asked.

  “That’s just it, sir. We don’t know.

  “What the hell do you mean you don’t know?” Lukas roared.

  “They were being monitored by the Sovereign Guard back here but fell off the radar five minutes ago.”

  “Five minutes ago?” Lukas breathed, his anger boiling on the brink of rage. “Why the hell are you just telling me now?”

  “You said only communication for us in and out of this room is through the hard line,” the guard replied. “They contacted me as soon as they thought it was outside the realm of technical malfunctions.”

  “Find her!” Lukas shouted. “Use every man you have, including yourself!”

  “Forgive me, Lukas, but you think that wise?” Jacob said, stepping forward. “These men are here for a reason and—”

  “Everyone!” Lukas bellowed, trying to rise from his wheelchair. He fell back clumsily as the guard nodded his head and ran toward the door.

  Lukas turned back to the monitor as the remaining jets ascended into the clouds. He waved Jacob’s hand away and tried to refocus on the battle. Still, as the battle began to boil above New Orleans, Lukas’ imagination couldn’t help but conjure up wild scenarios of betrayal and abduction. Lukas eyed the battle wearily, grumbling to himself as his eye twitched uncomfortably.

  Maria finally gave in, failing to hold back her tears of joy as the limousine passed through DC. She glanced out at the stone buildings, saying more quiet goodbyes for what she desperately hoped would be the last time. She didn’t care if Lukas won the war. She didn’t care if he lost and burned with the city she had come to loathe. All she cared about, as she rode toward freedom, was that she would rid herself of Lukas Chambers, one way or another.

  “How much longer?” Maria asked, thankful for the silk mask that concealed the majority of her face.

  “We’ll be there in three minutes, my lady,” the driver replied, glancing up at the rearview mirror with probing eyes.

  Three minutes, Maria thought, looking down at her silver purse and the Stonewall device
that was hidden inside. As she gazed at the tool that hid her from unwanted watchers, she almost brought herself to audible prayer. She didn’t care if freedom commenced with a long and uncertain journey or her violent death.

  She wanted only to be free from the man whom every fiber inside her body despised.

  Three more minutes.

  Adam breathed heavily, fighting to suppress the tremors that stretched his sanity while the last of the attackers died. He had been in battle before, but never had he faced such a terrifying sight as three hundred charging, mindless minions enraged by the imaginative designs of devils.

  He tore his eyes away from a teenage boy at his feet that shuddered as death overwhelmed him. He looked up, his eyes resting on the open door of the nearest trailer before focusing on the massive television screen mounted at the far end. Though it was thirty feet away, he could easily make out the picture—an image that caused a fresh wave of panic to pass through him. It was his face and his name flashing underneath. The Patriarchs weren’t there simply to annihilate Fort Harding.

  They were there for him.

  “Flags up and get to the base now! Don’t stop if anyone goes down, including me. Get to the campus no matter what!” Tyler paused to retch on the bloodied road. Adam jumped in the passenger side of the vehicle, Marc in the rear seat and two other Americans in the bed. The pickup lurched forward, the tires kicking up dust and roadside gravel as Tyler veered around the dead bodies. The other survivors quickly piled in the five other trucks, their engines howling as they followed Tyler’s lead.

  “There are a couple of cardboard tubes underneath your seat,” Tyler said, glancing back at Marc. “You see them?”

  “He can’t speak,” Adam replied as Marc reached down. Marc pulled out two tubes three feet in length.

  “Open the rear window and give them to the guys in the back,” Tyler said.

  “What are they?” Adam asked as the Marc opened the window and gave the tubes to the soldiers in the back.