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

by Jordan Ervin

  “Tell me, oh great and mighty Sigmund. How could a man that has lost everything destroy the king who has gained the world?”

  “That’s just it,” Sigmund began, his anger quickly dissipating into a smile. “I haven’t lost everything. I may have lost nearly everything I have worked for, but I have also gained much. In fact, I have gained some of what I had once lost. For example, I lost something very precious to me months ago—something I held very dearly.”

  “Which is what?”

  “Your end. Or, more specifically, the weapon of your demise.”

  Lukas paused, wondering what Sigmund was talking about. His eye began to twitch uncontrollably as he stared at Sigmund, fear and fury filling the pit of his stomach.

  “So what was this weapon you lost and found again?”

  “A nuclear bomb,” Sigmund said casually. “A hydrogen bomb, if you prefer to be technical, and nearly as high of a yield as the mighty Tsar Bomb. I can assure you that I have managed to bury it deep within your jugular vein. If you shoot me right now, I give you my word that it will detonate, thus beginning the end of everything you have forged. Now, please demonstrate to those around you who is really in charge and order your men to withdraw.”

  Lukas glanced over at Jacob with concern. Those behind him began to murmur with confusion. Lukas muted his mic, turning to Clark.

  “How could he have snuck a nuclear bomb into DC?”

  “We would have located it,” the Battle Marshal replied. “A bomb that large could not have been through our ports or borders without us knowing.”

  “Could he have hidden a bomb close enough to still damage us?”

  “Perhaps, but we’ve monitored everything within a hundred miles. It would have had to have been here before the war began.

  “Even then,” Damian began, “I would have to think DC’s radiation scanners would have picked something up of that magnitude.”

  “Are we safe here?” Lukas asked. “What will happen to us down here in the control room if he detonates it inside DC?”

  “I’m the Battle Marshall, not a nuclear weapons expert. Regardless, this bunker was designed during the Cold War and likely fortified to withstand a nuclear attack.”

  “What do you think?” Lukas asked, turning to Jacob.

  Jacob hesitated, swaying back and forth in contemplation. Finally, he reopened his eyes—fixating them on the screen.

  “I think Sigmund is a man who has managed to deceive even himself,” Jacob said. “I also think you are the Sovereign and whatever decision needs to be made must come from you. As I said, I am here to watch. I never wanted your position. Now you know why.”

  Lukas paused as he massaged a twitch from his eye. His men held the source of his hatred at gun point, and Lukas was on the verge of backing down. If he did, he knew those in the room would see him as weak. If he killed Sigmund, he might lose the crown jewel of the empire he had begun to forge—not to mention Maria, wherever she was. Lukas had never been one to embrace a foolish gamble, but one thing he knew for certain.

  He loathed Sigmund and couldn’t risk losing the opportunity to put an end to him.

  Lukas cleared his throat, unmuted his mic, and fought through the pain in his leg as he stood up unsteadily from his wheelchair.

  “I refuse to be deceived again. You can try to work the truth all you want. For now, there are only two truths you need to concern yourself with. Number one, your days of manipulating me are over; and two, the end of your journey has come. Though much of me wishes eternal torment for you, I’m thrilled to witness your final end. Goodbye, my old friend. I suppose…well, I guess some of us are not meant to live forever.” Lukas paused, taking a deep breath before giving the order. “Shoot him.”

  The Adherent fired his weapon. Sigmund laughed as the rifle flashed three times. The woman kneeling dove to the side, howling in fear as she leapt away from the gunfire. Lukas smiled, waiting for the man he loathed to crumple over in death.

  But he didn’t.

  Sigmund simply continued to laugh. The Adherent fired three more rounds. Debris from the wooden bookcase behind Sigmund fell to the floor. Lukas stared at the screen—his eyes wide with shock as Sigmund stood unaffected by the gunfire.

  “Everyone, fire!” Lukas roared.

  The six men opened fire. Their bullets cut through the room, crashing through Sigmund and into the wooden bookcase behind him—launching fragments of books and chips of wood about. Sigmund stood defiantly as the ineffective volley passed through him like he were an immortal god.

  The bookcase finally gave, crashing down toward Sigmund. As it did, it passed through him, smashing against the ground with a thunderous bang. Sigmund’s laughter died down as he began to walk forward.

  “Fool me once, then shame on me,” Sigmund said as he grinned. “Tell me, how shameful is it to be fooled over and over again with the same smoke and mirrors?”

  “How are you—”

  “What, deceiving your cameras though no man of yours wears an nVision device?” Sigmund laughed, cackling so hard he had to wipe a tear from his cheek. “Lukas, there are and always will be ways to supersede your limited intellect. In a very real way, you make it all too easy!”

  “Where are you?” Lukas growled.

  “Everywhere,” Sigmund whispered, his apparition circling the strike team. “I am in your dreams. I am in your quite moments. I am in your soul, carving my name into your heart with an infinite blade!”

  “I will find you,” Lukas growled. “I will find you and rip the flesh off your bones!”

  “Perhaps you will and perhaps you won’t,” Sigmund said, his demeanor shifting back to a casual indifference. “However, I imagine you’ll be quite busy trying to save the empire you created as it rots from within.”

  “The Imperium has been ordained by fate to unite the world. I am destined to unite mankind!”

  “Oh, please,” Sigmund said as he clicked his teeth annoyingly. “You are a living injustice to everyone who has ever claimed to be logical. Nevertheless, I must give credit where it is due and I suppose you were right about one thing.”

  “Which was what?” Lukas asked, his eye twitching uncontrollably.

  “I didn’t hide the bomb in DC,” Sigmund said with a grin, his eyes shifting between each of the Praetorians as his voice suddenly broke through onto all Imperium frequencies across the globe. “To all of you who follow the great and powerful Lukas Chambers, I am Sigmund—the one true Sovereign of mankind. Please let what follows serve as an example of what it costs to ally yourself with such a blundering fool. Know that the doubts that move stealthily through your minds over the coming months are not unwarranted. You have allied yourself with nothing more than the village idiot—a lumbering giant who cares only for himself. The blood of your greatest warriors is now on his hands.” Sigmund smiled as he gazed past the six Praetorians. “Silvia, let your freedom ring!”

  The unknown woman behind the Praetorians shouted—a strange, tongue-less, and defiant cry—and raised a detonator overhead, pressing the button.

  Sarah whispered a soft song into Eva’s ears as they huddled in the sprawling atrium at the front of the American Heritage Building. Over two hundred other women and three times as many children had now gathered, most crying softly where they sat while the roar of battle grew closer. More women and children entered in droves, filling the massive chamber to the point of claustrophobia. Sarah felt so helpless, knowing that Judah, Eric, and hundreds of other men were outside, fighting and dying for her right to live.

  She had hoped and prayed that the safety of Fort Harding would have granted them a long pause from the chaos, but that peace had been shattered all within the matter of a few minutes. Alexandra sat on the black stone steps of a grand staircase, swaying back and forth as she cried softly. Sarah’s heart broke for the girl. Alexandra had practically known nothing but pain for the past four months. She had lost her family, faced constant danger, been raped by twisted men, and watched as the boy
she had fallen in love with ran off to war. Sarah knew most of the women in the room had similar stories—two hundred trails of sorrow stretching thousands of miles in all directions. Sarah had been the wife of an American leader and she felt like she should do something to help them. Nevertheless, her mind was numb, her body weak, and her soul weary. She was a shell of the woman she had once been, not knowing if her courage and strength would ever return.

  The front door burst open, causing Sarah and nearly every other woman inside to jump and shout with surprise. A column of soldiers charged in, breathing heavily as they quickly ran past the women, shouting as they began to spread out to other wings of the building. One man slowed to a halt, a rifle in his hands and terror in his eyes. Sarah stood up as every other woman slowly rose.

  “What’s happening?” someone cried out as the last of the column of soldiers entered. Before the man could answer, more women shouted.

  “Has anyone died?”

  “Are they inside the wall?”

  “Are we going to die?”

  The man dodged the questions, shaking his head. Sarah put Eva down and approached him, laying her hand on his shoulder.

  “What do you need?” she asked.

  “For you to get ready,” the man replied. The man scanned the room, his eyes watering as he did so.

  “Get ready for what?” Sarah asked.

  “They’re hitting us from the north and south,” the man replied. “They’ll be at the inner wall in a few minutes and here shortly after.”

  “How many will—”

  “An army!” the man shouted. “There’s thousands. Over ten thousand! They’re storming the base and have us surrounded. I came here to tell you to prepare for battle. You, your kids, the elderly—everyone! Get ready to fight because they’re coming. Do whatever you can to fight back and we’ll hold until the last man. I’m sorry, but I…I’m so sorry, but I have to get back.”

  “Wait!” Sarah shouted, grabbing him by the arm as the women behind her began to cry and moan with the news. “How do we…what do we do?”

  “I don’t know,” the man said, pulling his arm away. “Just be ready for war.”

  “How?” Sarah pleaded. “We’ve got children, old women. We can’t—”

  “You have to!” the man pleaded. “Find whatever you can to fight back. Knives, tools, guns—anything! And I mean everyone, even the kids. Good luck and…and I’m sorry.”

  Sarah stood there, stunned, as the man ran back outside. Some women quickly mobilized, doing what they could to find weapons or block off the entrances to the atrium. However, most of the women in the room simply seized the moment to cry out, the weeping and gnashing of teeth filling the hall like a flood.

  Sarah turned around, her eyes scanning the uproar. Countless mothers held their children tightly as they stood on the brink of a violent death. Sarah looked back at her daughters, trying to imagine arming them with a knife. Despite the burning desire to fight for her girls’ survival, she couldn’t ask them to spend their final moments on earth preparing to kill. As Sarah looked down at her terrified children, she began to weep. She wrapped her arms around herself, lowered her head, and began to pray.

  God, please…what do I do?

  She opened her eyes and looked up, her teary-eyed gaze resting on the smooth black stone of the wall beside her. Gold lettering dotted the surface of an artificial waterfall that had dried long ago. As Sarah Reinhart read the words, a sudden and overwhelming sense of peace washed over her.

  Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith.

  As Sarah’s gaze lingered on the wall, she realized it was the first time she had read scripture since their flight from Fort Bragg. In the quiet moment that existed inside a chamber of chaos, it dawned on her that she had done everything in her power to avoid trusting in God for strength. As she stood there, faced with watching an unstoppable wave of violent death sweep over everyone she loved, she knew there was absolutely nothing she could physically do anymore that would matter, other than fix her eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of her faith.

  Sarah smiled, closed her eyes, and began to worship—lifting up prayer and song.

  “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound. That saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found; was blind, but now I see.”

  The few women around her quieted as she sang. Sarah’s prayer grew—branching out to cover the men of Fort Harding. She prayed for them—beseeching the Holy Spirit to give them the strength to remember Christ in the heat of battle. She opened her mouth to sing the second verse, and the voices of a few more joined in.

  “Was grace that taught my heart to fear, and grace my fears relieved; how precious did that grace appear the hour I first believed.”

  Sarah fell to her knees, raising her hands high, praying for forgiveness as the atmosphere in the room began to shift from chaos to courage. She had abandoned so much of the truth that had grounded her in her faith. She had transformed into an unrecognizable woman, letting the world tie a stone around her neck and cast her into the abyss. But now, Sarah realized her greatest fault was forgetting to remember her first and greatest love. Sarah prayed that she and everyone else who had hopelessly lost their way could rediscover Christ in those final moments.

  “The earth shall soon dissolve like snow, the sun forbear to shine; but God, who called me here below, will be forever mine.”

  A multitude of voices rose from within the room, combating the roar of the approaching warfare outside with their hymn. Sarah began to cry, even praying for those who now besieged them. Though she didn’t know who was battering down their walls, she knew this war had spared no one of its cruel hatred. Even those who wished her dead were victims to the malice of a world at war.

  “When we’ve been there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, we’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we’d first begun!”

  Hundreds of women and children that had been scarred and broken by the roads they had traveled now sang—choosing to declare their deepest love instead of drown in their worst fears. Sarah wept openly as the worship continued, kneeling in awe and the wonder of Christ as she and the Battle Choir of Fort Harding praised the author and perfecter of their faith.

  The blasts of gunfire from atop the walls and inside the dorms above boomed, ricocheting about the brick buildings and echoing throughout the central campus. Adam leapt out of the truck bed, turning back to Marc as they lowered Tyler. Tyler cried out in pain—a shout that was lost amongst the multitude of cries from other injured men behind the inner wall. Adam set him down carefully as the gate behind them began to rumble.

  “Help me get him away from the wall!” Adam shouted. Marc nodded and jumped to the ground, grabbing Tyler by his good leg and hefting him up. Tyler cried out again, shouting for a woman named Nadia as they hauled him away. Adam breathed deeply, searching the inner campus and praying that his family was safe.

  Please, God, Adam implored as he trudged forward. Let them be alive. Let me see them once more before the end.

  “Tyler!”

  Adam looked to his left as a woman ran forward, trailed by a one-armed man and another soldier.

  “Nadia!”

  The woman ran up, falling in beside Tyler as she attempted to kiss him and assess his injuries at the same time. Adam and Marc halted and set Tyler down.

  “How bad is he hurt?” Nadia asked.

  “His leg is shattered and he’s bleeding badly,” Adam replied. “We need to get him inside immediately.”

  “Wait,” Tyler said, reaching up to pull Nadia closer. “Where are the women and—”

  “Everyone’s right where they need to be,” a familiar voice cut in. Adam looked up, his heart nearly stopping as Eric trotted forward. “You’ve done enough, Tyler. It’s time to—”

  “Eric!” Adam shouted, standing to face his old friend.

  Eric looked over at Adam, his eyes growing wide with complete and utter shock. For a brief
moment, Adam thought Eric might actually pass out.

  “Adam?” Eric finally whispered, breathing heavily as Guardsmen began to yell intangibly from the wall.

  “Eric,” Adam began, “where are—”

  With a sudden flash, as Adam gazed intently at Eric Corsa—oblivious to the men shouting and leaping from the wall a hundred feet behind them—Adam Reinhart became aware.

  He was aware of the abnormally loud cannon fire in the distance. He was aware a split second later as the wall behind them exploded, fragments of steel and wood flying toward them. Adam closed his eyes tightly as a wave of light and air struck them, throwing Eric into Adam. As he tumbled to the ground, screaming as a concussion of heat passed over him, Adam was aware of the sinking feeling that he might not actually get to see his family before he died.

  “Get down!”

  Judah shouted as the five tanks that had roared onto the battlefield fired. The wall to the right of them exploded while three shells struck the dorm one hundred feet to the left. The building trembled violently as it began to crack and break apart, the half that had been hit crumbling to the ground. Judah grabbed Jimmy by the arm and hauled him to his feet.

  They ran outside into the hallway and Judah glanced down the corridor, dust and smoke from the collapse cascading down the long hallway before engulfing them. Judah covered his face and made his way toward the corner stairs as best as he could. Other survivors abandoned their posts, stumbling into the darkened hall. Some coughed, others screamed, and dozens cried out in fear and pain. Another boom and the building shook again, this time a direct hit on the floor above them.

  Judah had known the end would come the moment the wall fell and death himself arrived to say adieu. With the inner wall breached and a mass of thousands charging forward, there was now nothing left standing between chaos and those he loved, nothing but Judah and the men beside him.