Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) (23 page)

Erik knew deep in his soul that hundreds of thousands—if not millions—of Americans had perished in the weeks and months after the power had gone out.
 
In Florida, he'd seen the effects of the Russian invasion first-hand.
 
Yet the population had been decimated by disease even more than fighting.
 
He had hoped the people in rural areas of the country survived better than those that relied on just-in-time deliveries of food and water.

He shook his head as they rolled through the intersection.
 
If anyone was still alive out here, they were hiding well.
 

It was bad enough that Ted had filled him in on what the people of Dunham had been dealing with.
 
Ted found out through hushed conversations with sympathetic locals that the sheriff had been consolidating his power throughout the county—mostly by bullying and intimidating local townspeople into accepting his rule.
 
Over the course of the past few months, Dunham became the last holdout.
 

When intimidation tactics failed, the sheriff had 'outsiders' appear. When
that
failed he resorted to out-and-out hostage-taking.
 
That was when the town leaders occupied the jail.
 
The day they had rolled into town in the M-ATV, the sheriff had decided to make a frontal assault against the last holdouts.

The thought still made Erik sick to his stomach.
 
He and Ted had helped bring the last free town in Hull county to its knees at the behest of the corrupt sheriff.
 
The one comfort he had was that the sheriff would never hurt anyone again—Ted had made sure of that before he destroyed the M-ATV.

"Mr. Erik, I really gotta pee…" whispered Lindsay.

"Okay, okay…hang on…" Erik replied.
 
Well, we got another couple miles under the belt while she waited… That's something.
 

He saw a scenic overlook sign up ahead, and pulled into the side lane, quickly switching off the lights and letting the car ghost to a stop.
 
He shifted into park as fast as possible to eliminate the taillights.
 
He killed the interior lights first, then quietly opened his door, taking his rifle with him.
 

Positioned across the hood, he scanned around in the darkness as his eyes adjusted to the bright starlight.
 
One glance told him people in the past enjoyed a much better celestial show than anyone in modern times.
 
The stars were so numerous he could read a map.

Erik gave his eyes another few seconds to adjust to the pale light.
 
Nothing stirred.
 
In the distance a mournful owl hooted across the open vista to his right.
 
They were in the low country of North Carolina, so everything looked relatively flat.
 
He figured the most dangerous thing out there was probably snakes.

"Okay, it looks clear, hurry up," he whispered.

Lindsay opened the side door just far enough for her to squeeze through and then slipped down the slight embankment into the darkness.
 
She didn't go far—Erik could hear the rustle of her clothes as she did her business.
 

Erik sat there scanning all around them, praying for her to hurry.
 
The longer they sat still, the greater the threat of discovery or ambush.
 
Someone could be watching them right now.
 
They could be out there beyond Lindsay in the tall grass, behind him on the road,
 
in front of them on the road,
 
anywhere.
 
If someone was equipped with night vision goggles, they'd be sitting ducks.

The more Erik's imagination ran wild, the more he felt a familiar itch between his shoulders—like someone watched him.
 
He slowly turned in a circle, keeping the rifle at his shoulder and scanning all sectors.
 

There's nothing out here, it's just your imagination.

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched.
 
"Lindsay," he hissed, "hurry up!
 
Something doesn't feel right."

"Okay!" she whispered back.

Erik waited patiently for a few more moments.
 
He
 
started to sweat.
 
"Lindsay?
 
You okay?"

"I'm coming," she whispered.

To Erik's relief he heard her footsteps in the grass, then he heard a startled squeak before it sounded like she fell to her knees.
 
On high alert, Erik crouched and moved in front of the van to the passenger side.
 
He peered down and saw her scramble up the embankment.
 

Helping her to her feet, he asked, "You're crying.
 
Are you okay?"

She sniffled.
 
"Yeah, I just tripped.
 
I'm okay."

Erik nodded.
 
"Good, let's get you inside and get out of here."
 

After she'd climbed aboard and shut the door, Erik took one more look around the darkness.
 
Someone—or something—was definitely watching him.
 
He shuffled around the front of the van and slipped in the driver's seat, feeling safer by the second after the door shut.
 
He turned on the headlights, half expecting to see a dozen armed men illuminated in front of them.
 
Instead, he saw only open road surrounded by trees and brush.

Erik shifted the van into drive and pulled forward, only relaxing when they got back up to speed.
 
His fingers fumbled in the darkness until he found the right switch to illuminate the instrument panel.
 
The soft glow told him what he feared.
 
They only had about a quarter tank left.

Well, that'll get us to sunrise
, he reasoned.
 
There were three assorted sizes of gasoline containers in the back.
 
Two of them were empty, one contained about two gallons of fuel.
 
It was their emergency stash.
 

We're not seeing enough cars
, he mused, watching the miles rolled by.
 
On the back roads, they saw hardly any sign of human civilization.
 
No traffic, no hitchhikers—no one.
 
It was more than a little unnerving.

Maybe it's time we shifted back to the highways…

As much as Erik hated to admit it, every time they tried to scout out an interstate, they always found parking lots—no matter the state.
 
It seemed the universal response to the national power grid going down was to jump in a car, get on the closest interstate, and get stuck in traffic jams until the gas ran out.
 

In more than a few instances, miles of cars had been scorched and burned.
 
Erik wanted to assume it started when one car got into an accident and caught on fire, then spread to the others, but he couldn't rule out the possibility that someone had deliberately torched them.

By the time the sun finally crested the horizon, Erik could barely keep his eyes open.
 
The van's speed had dropped down to 35 miles an hour.
 
He didn't trust himself going any faster—but they still moved north.

Finally deciding that it was time to switch drivers, Erik let the van roll to a stop on its own near the small town of Salemburg.
 
The minivan stopped, he put it in park, and closed his eyes with a sigh.

A hand gripped his shoulder.
 
"How long did you drive while you were asleep?" asked Ted in a cheerful voice.

Erik shook his head and forced his eyes open.
 
"I just stopped to close my eyes for a second."

"You know how many times I heard that when I was a deputy?"
 
Ted laughed.
 
"Come on, get out.
 
I'll take over."

Erik unfolded himself from the driver's seat and stretched in the chilly morning sun.
 
He blinked and looked at Ted.
 
"We're almost out of gas.
 
If we don't find something soon, we're going to have to use our reserves."

Ted's face fell.
 
"Well, this thing gets better gas mileage than the matvee, but not by much."
 
He climbed in and buckled up.

Erik slipped into the back and shut the side door.
 
"I think it may be time we discuss getting closer to the interstate again."

Brin stirred next to him in the tangle of children and supplies.
 
She lifted her head up.
 
"We out of gas?"

Ted cursed from the front seat.
 
"Near enough," he whispered.

Brin mumbled something in response as she put her head back down.
 
Erik moved up in the passenger seat and let it recline all the way back.
 
"Oh my God, I'm so tired."

Erik was asleep before Ted shifted into gear.

Chapter 26

Exodus Baltimore

M
ALCOLM
STOOD
ON
TOP
of a large delivery truck trapped in the sea of fighters streaming south from Baltimore. His sacrificial rearguard action in Philadelphia had delayed Stapleton enough for him to get the bulk of his forces away and that was something.
 
But was it enough?
 
He struggled against the self-doubt.
 
He'd sent so many of the old guard and youngest recruits to their deaths...he feared Allah would never forgive him.

He frowned as another group waved at him.
 
There was no other way for him to do it. The needs of the many often outweighed the needs of the few.
 
At least that's how he remembered the saying going.

After the debacle in Philadelphia, only a few people slapped the side of the truck and cheered.
 
He glanced north. Baltimore remained as yet mostly undisturbed. A few thin trails of smoke snaked into the sky, but he was fairly certain any city after six months without power would have smoke like that.
 

Philadelphia had turned into a firestorm despite the fact that power for the most part had been restored to the outer fringes.
 
The feeling of goodwill people typically experienced from regaining some semblance of normalcy—in this case through the return of reliable electricity—had not stopped the more restless elements of his army from running amok. He grimaced.
 

Will the same fate befall Baltimore? The last segments of his army were just now beginning to leave the downtown area. He had reports from some of his more trusted commanders the looting and rampaging that had taken place in Philadelphia had started again. Although with Stapleton's army growing ever closer, he wondered if trying to put a stop to the wanton destruction was a good idea.

Malcolm scanned the outskirts of the city through his binoculars. Rioters where even now overturning cars, trashing buildings, and doing everything they could to make as much of a mess as possible.
 
Unwittingly, they might slow down their mortal enemy.

Something he hadn't expected was the massive, spontaneous civilian evacuation.

Far off to the sides of his column of travel, he saw cars and trucks of all shapes and sizes—not to mention thousands upon thousands of people on foot—all flowing away from the city in an attempt to flee what they perceived to be an army of destruction. He smirked. Nevermind the fact most of his people had already passed through the city on their way south.
 

The threat is largely over, but these people don't think logically.

He'd even sent runners ahead to announce his arrival and let people know they were not in danger—at least not from him.
 
He and his forces were merely passing through Baltimore on their way to link up with President Jones in Washington.

He stared at a family as they exited a vehicle stuck in traffic.
 
With panicked looks over their shoulders, they pulled their children down the side of the road, desperate to flee before the surging mass of rebels overtook them.
 

He lowered his binoculars
.
 
I don't think my warning had the effect I was looking for.
 
He'd have to think hard about whether to do that when he approached Washington.

His radio squawked again, another report coming in from the south about civilians tying up the roads and blocking his path. While they may be making it difficult for Stapleton to get within striking range, they were also making things tedious for him.

He sighed and looked south again, watching his people continue to move forward.
 
He wondered how long he would be able to keep things together, to keep pushing them south before the first groups began to revolt.

He'd already heard disturbing reports of individual gangs splitting off looking for greener pastures. Reduction in overall numbers was minimal, but the psychological effect could be immense if he didn't get it under control.

It all boiled down to a question of time. How much did he have, how much could he gain, and how much he could afford to lose?

His radio squawked.
"Malcolm! Them people really slowing us down! What you want me to do? We're still a little ahead of them, but if I can't get 'em off the road, there's gonna be some shit goin' down when the rest of our people show up!"

Malcolm grimaced. "Where are you?"

"Down by the school."

"What school?" Malcolm asked, looking at his well-worn map.

"Sign says UMBC School of Technology…Don't know what it is, but we're sittin' up above the interstate.
 
Too many people down there so we had to come up this way to get around."