by Jordan Ervin
“The Battle Choir?”
Sarah laughed lightly, shaking her head. “I didn’t pick the name, but let’s just say while you men were fighting at the front, we women were waging a spiritual battle at the rear.”
Eric nodded his head, not sure what to make of her statement but unwilling to press. “And how are the others?”
“Elizabeth is back in her comfort zone,” Sarah replied. “By comfort zone, I mean you’d think she’s a famous and revered sage by the amount of advice she gives—some asked for, though most not. Still, she was preparing for this war long before anyone put bullet to barrel and knows quite a bit. Trey continues to surprise even himself. There’s not a thing that guy can’t do, other than hold a mature conversation. Judah and Alexandra are doing much better. Alexandra has latched onto Judah and he’s absolutely fine with that.”
“It’s about damn time,” Eric replied with a laugh.
“Alexandra isn’t the only one latching onto Judah. There are some soldiers who are happily living in his shadow. They call him Longshot, much to Judah’s disdain. It seems Judah gunned down twelve men at long range who were attempting to overrun Adam, Marc, and Tyler at the bridge, all before single handedly leading almost thirty disorganized snipers out of the burning dorm to protect us women. Supposedly, those men are not quite ready to abandon his lead just yet.”
“I’m sure Judah loves that,” Eric replied.
“Oh, how he hates it,” Sarah replied with a chuckle. “He insists that rifle you gave him did most of the work and keeps reminding the men that the Texans arrived before they were halfway to the Heritage Building. But to them, he’s still the young warrior who did more than ten others combined.”
“Well, it’s the leaders who love to lead that you have to worry about. Judah will be fine so long as he remembers that. Besides, he comes from good stock.”
Sarah grinned and nodded her head, though her smile began to fade into a recognition of reality.
“Eric, before we have the conversation we both know needs to happen, I need to tell you that Tyler’s dead.”
A flash of heat raced across Eric’s skin, paralyzing him for a moment as his mind registered what his ears had heard. He had received few visitors outside of the occasional nurses. Eric had been informed little about the battle, other than they had miraculously won after the surprise arrival of Texan reinforcements. Judah had visited first, staying long enough to confirm his father’s return and the well-being of the Reinhart family. Gene and Adam had dropped by later on two separate occasions—visitations full of the rare and slightly awkward act of rough and tough men weeping as they reunited, passing time by sharing the tale behind each new scar they bore. Eric had hoped the lack of bad news on their behalf was a good sign, but he knew they were likely sparing him the worst.
“When did he die?” Eric asked.
“After the battle,” Sarah replied. “Adam wanted to tell you, but Gene didn’t want to worry you yet. I’m not sure I was even supposed to tell you, but…I would have wanted to know.”
Eric hesitated before taking a deep breath, asking the question he had yet to work up the courage to ask anyone else. In a way, it symbolized just how comfortable he was with Sarah.
“How many died?”
Sarah paused, her eyes glazing over as she stared at Eric quietly. “Too many, but less than would have had you not been here. You saved a lot of people, Eric. We lost many hundreds, but it would have been thousands had you not organized the resistance. Still, Tyler’s death has struck everyone hard. It was like he was the adhesive holding everyone together.”
Eric nodded his head slowly. He had come to like Tyler in the short time they had known one another. Though Tyler had come from a very different background, he had been instrumental in preparing Fort Harding’s defenses. Lieutenant Hicks had only just survived the battle on Race Street, but it had become quite clear that even he would have done little had he arrived earlier, though he’d never agree to such a claim. Eric had heard from Gene that Hicks had traveled south after the battle, debriefing with his Texan counterparts. Hicks was apparently strutting around a liberated North Little Rock, claiming credit for saving Fort Harding, even though it had been Tyler who put hammer to nail early on while Hicks wanted to debate defense theory for months. Without the walls Tyler had ordered built six months ago at the onset of winter, the Patriarchs would have rolled right through Fort Harding’s inner sanctum faced with all the resistance of a dog barking against oncoming traffic.
“He was a good man,” Eric finally said. “We owe our survival to him.”
“Tyler and hundreds more.”
“How’s Nadia doing?”
“She’s handling it better than I thought she would have,” Sarah replied. “It’s no secret that she hates the prisoners we’re holding with an outspoken passion, but she’s strong and refuses to let Tyler’s death get in the way of her mission to watch over Fort Harding’s citizens.”
“We’re holding prisoners?”
Sarah nodded her head. “Nearly three thousand men and women who had attacked us survived the battle, though many had been injured. Some quite badly. They’re being held in a camp just outside the fort until Adam, Nadia, and the others decide what to do next.”
“And what does happen next?” Eric asked.
“They’re making a big announcement today,” Sarah said. “A very big announcement. Adam’s going to—”
“I’m not talking about Adam.” Eric gazed at Sarah, captivated by her as he drank in her beauty. “I’m not talking about Fort Harding, a group of prisoners, the Patriarchs, or the Imperium. I’m talking about us.” He reached forward, grabbing her hand. She smiled, letting him wrap his fingers around hers. He hesitated, wondering if he should tell her the entirety of his long and heartbreaking story, but he didn’t want her to love him out of pity.
He needed her to love him for the man she knew him to be.
“I’ve never considered myself a privileged man. I’m not a world changer. I’m not some great leader. I am a soldier trained to fly above the clouds and kill below them. I struggled with that life, but my life seems to be one designed for war and vengeance. But now there’s more to me than my battle. There now exists this perfect weightlessness, an unforgettable freedom from the life I had been chained to. Sarah, now that I know you, I cannot disremember you. I can do a lot of things, but it will forever be beyond me to not love you.”
“Eric, Adam’s alive. My husband is alive. Please don’t put me in this impossible situation.”
“I know Adam’s back and I am thrilled he’s alive, but we can’t pretend what happened between us never took place. Honestly, I don’t care about anything else. I can’t care about anything else. You are all I have. The rest is simply a hollow and meaningless darkness.”
Sarah paused, a frown lingering on her face. The light caught her blonde hair, framing her face with a crown of gold.
Eric had never loved as much as he loved Sarah in that moment.
“Do you really love me?” Sarah asked.
“I’d get out of this bed and fight a thousand battles to prove it so.”
Sarah slowly pulled her hand away—the sudden onset of an absence of joy more agonizing than all the pains in Eric’s battered body.
“I don’t need you to fight a thousand battles.” Sarah stood from the chair, carefully pushing it back to where it had been as though she were erasing her tracks. “You can prove you love me by never speaking about what happened between us. Adam cannot know.”
“Sarah, you know I can’t just—”
“Eric,” Sarah began coldly, her voice a raging whisper. “Adam can never know!” She turned and began walking toward the door.
“You know I can’t pretend we didn’t happen,” Eric said as she opened the door. “I know Adam’s back, but I won’t just forget about us. I can’t forget about you.”
“You have to,” Sarah replied.
“Why?” Eric pleaded, bordering on tears. �
��Why are we forced to abandon something that you and I know was right?”
Sarah hesitated, turning back to face him as she wiped one last tear from her face.
“As you once said not long ago,” Sarah began, “it’s not ours to reason why, but to do and die.”
Sarah turned and walked through the open door, shutting it behind her with a click. For a long time, Eric’s gaze simply lingered on the back of the pale door as he thought about what she had said. He knew it was irrational for him to expect her to abandon Adam now that he was back, but Eric couldn’t simply forget Sarah and the burning love he held for her.
Eventually, Eric closed his eyes tightly, trying and failing to shut the world out and re-submerge himself into a dream state of indifference.
Victor Castle shifted his tied wrists as he sat under the hot sun. The Americans had only managed to erect enough tents for a third of the survivors and most of the men had agreed to let the women take the shade. Victor hadn’t had much say in the matter, though he hadn’t had much say in anything since the bombs ceased and the American search team found him weeping on the embankment of the creek.
Victor was now completely deaf—a man without ears in a world that always had something to scream. Life was now a great and silent wasteland and despite the bonds that still held him, he couldn’t help but smile as he thought about the great victory within him.
Eight days of freedom.
Victor glanced to his right and watched as a group of Americans entered the camp, immediately noticing Adam Reinhart at their head. He smiled, watching as Adam and half a dozen others walked slowly through the rows of survivors. Another twenty armed soldiers stood guard around the group, though they didn’t stop Adam and the others from leaning down and speaking with injured survivors. Victor could tell Adam Reinhart was a good man—a leader the fragmented people of the United States desperately needed—and he hoped to live long enough to see Adam take a stand against those who had tried to destroy America.
Eventually, Adam and the others neared Victor. Adam’s eyes met Victor’s briefly before moving on down the line. However, Adam paused and glanced back, fixating his gaze on Victor. Victor tensed and sat up. Adam walked back, turning to the side and speaking as he pointed at Victor, though Victor couldn’t tell what he was saying. The nurse who had been attending Victor spoke briefly with Adam. Adam hesitated before turning to another man and grabbing a tablet from his hands. Adam spoke, the tablet rendering Adam’s voice to text in real time.
You are Victor Castle, correct? Highest ranking Recruit in Little Rock?
Victor nodded his head. Adam looked to the others and smiled before speaking again.
I am Adam Reinhart. Do you remember me?
Victor slowly nodded again.
We have received word that the Patriarchs were destroyed in New Orleans and the serum in your system is no longer able to be activated. Can you tell me if you’ve felt anything since the battle that could prove otherwise?
“No,” Victor said, though his voice was nothing more than a leaden bass he could not discern. “Are we free?”
Adam smiled before kneeling down and speaking again.
You are free.
“Thank you,” Victor said, fighting back tears. “Thank you so much! I have prayed for this day for months. I have—”
Adam held up a hand, cutting Victor off.
Victor, twenty-nine hundred of your men and women survived the battle and are being held until we decide what to do. We haven’t heard if Texas captured Rendell Boss and we wanted to speak with someone who had been in charge.
“Whatever you wish of me, I am your man till the end.”
For now, we only wish your honesty.
Adam hesitated as a frowning woman to his right said something indiscernible. After a pause, Adam began to speak again. As he did so, the woman grew visibly cold and angry, though she said nothing more.
Your men and women claimed a lot of lives attacking Fort Harding, though I know you had very little control over your actions. The woman next to me is Nadia Andreou. She was the governor here. Her husband died because of wounds he received on this very field. I won’t lie to you. There are those who think you are all better off dead. There are many like Nadia who do not know when you might turn rabid again and therefore want to see you gone, though there are others who want to see you rebuild the lives you had lost. I don’t want to execute or forcefully deport twenty-nine hundred men and women because they were involuntary forced into besieging Fort Harding, but I won’t ask my friends here to risk our safety unless we’re confident of the outcome. So tell me, what do you honestly think happens if you remain here with us? And no bull-crap lies. Just the truth.
Victor was taken aback as he read the final two lines, a strange sense of hope and anticipation passing through his body. He had thought he and the others would have been cast away as soon as possible, never dreaming they’d be allowed to stay behind and join those they had nearly destroyed.
“There are those who might cause trouble, but that is not the majority,” Victor replied. “You have to understand, no one can resist what we were subjugated to. We had our will torn from our very souls. I’m not going to pretend we don’t own our sins, but we have existed without hope for months. If you give us a chance, I believe most of us would be more than thrilled to help you rebuild and restore America. Hope like that would send shockwaves through these people.”
Adam hesitated, turning to the others and speaking briefly. After a pause, Adam drew a knife, leaned in closer, and cut Victor’s bonds. As he helped Victor to his feet, Adam spoke, holding out the screen for Victor to read.
We all own our sins, Mr. Castle. If you’d be willing, I’d like to work with you directly. Together, I think we could help my people and your people remember the inherent good inside us all.
“It would be an honor,” Victor replied, failing to hold back the tears.
Adam smiled and shook his hand, motioning for Victor to follow.
“Shouldn’t I stay here with them?” Victor asked, glancing around as the other survivors looked at them with a newfound sense of hope.
We’ll bring you back later. For now, I would like you to join us for an announcement we are about to make.
“What announcement?” Victor asked.
Adam paused as he smiled.
If we can begin to rebuild a country by giving hope to twenty-nine hundred hopeless souls, imagine what we can achieve once we give hope to a shattered world.
Elizabeth Holt hummed with song and eagerness as she walked with Eva at the end of one hand and Grace at the end of another. She smiled as they passed by the old brick buildings that had once been home to thousands of eager students. Elizabeth thought about yesterday’s young intellects—the lives they had lived and the hope they had held for the future, wondering if they had felt the same exhilaration she did as she walked toward the American Heritage Building, ready to watch Adam Reinhart change the world.
“Daddy!”
Eva ripped away from Elizabeth’s grip and Grace soon followed as they spotted Adam and a group of others nearby. The two girls skipped as they neared, throwing themselves into his arms as he knelt down and embraced them both.
Elizabeth smiled, thinking of the first time she had ever met Adam. She had gambled so much on the decision to bring him into her circle of trust. During the months that led up to the collapse, she couldn’t have been happier with that decision. In the dark days that followed—when she thought him dead—she had felt a very real void inside her. She had believed from early on that Adam was the man to breathe life back into the nation and fend off those who wished to destroy it. Now that he was back, Elizabeth had begun to believe in that hope again.
“Hello there, Mr. Smith,” Elizabeth said, approaching Gene Smith. “I can’t say it’s getting old seeing you every day again.”
“Elizabeth,” Gene said, shaking her hand.
“Are you really going to tell me we’re still at handshakes
?” Elizabeth replied, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer. “Get over here, you big brute. You’ll never be too tough or high ranking for my hugs.”
“Glad to know,” Gene said with a grin as he hugged Elizabeth back.
“How are you, Elizabeth?” Adam asked with a smile.
“Fine as a dandelion,” she replied, her accent more southern than a tall glass of sugary sweet tea. “I was actually looking for you, Mr. Smith. I finished revising that old poem of yours. You know, the one about dragons and all other sorts of nonsense?”
“My what?” Gene asked, glancing over at Adam.
“Oh, don’t look at him. He only hinted at the existence of such a thing a couple of days after we were all reunited. I’m the one who snuck in your room while you were away and played the part of thief. The Dragons of Men…never took you for a poet, but I’ll say you have the knack.”
“Elizabeth,” Gene began, “you can’t just—”
“Oh pipe down, would ya’? You can’t really be upset with a nice gal like me, can you now? Besides, it was a fine rhyme and I think I was able to correct what needed correctin’. I’ve already made some adjustments and penned something that flows a bit better. I was actually hoping you might want to read it during your speech, Mr. Reinhart.”
Elizabeth removed the poem from her back pocket and handed it to Adam.
“The Saints Within,” Adam said as he recited the title. He scanned over the poem, a smile curving his lips as he read.
“I suppose it’s good to mention that it’s not just for me,” Elizabeth said. “It’s not for you or Gene or any one person. I like to think of it as an ode to those who have survived these evil days behind us. May the world hear those words and hold on to them dearly as we shout at the darkness ahead.”
“It’s perfect,” Adam finally said, leaning forward to give Elizabeth a kiss on the cheek as he hugged her.
