Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) (8 page)

"If we do this quick, we might be able to get in and out before full daylight."

Erik glanced at Ted.
 
"You really think so?"

Ted shrugged, pushing the M-ATV just a little faster.
 
"The road's smoother here, we’ll be there in another minute or so.
 
Just be ready."

Erik pulled his rifle to his lap and ejected the magazine.
 
It was mostly full.
 
He slammed it home then checked the straps on his vest.
 
"I got one in the gun and two spare."

Ted eased the M-ATV up to the car dealership’s driveway and let the big vehicle coast to a stop.
 
He methodically scanned the surroundings on both sides of their vehicle for movement.
 
"Still looks quiet."

Erik snatched one of the hand-held radios off the charger they'd taped to the dashboard.
 
He
 
clipped one to his tactical vest as he looked over his shoulder at Brin.
 

"I'll be on two."
 

She accepted the other radio from his hand, fiddling with the buttons without making eye contact.

Erik looked at Ted, who still peered out the armored window.
 
"Particular color you like?"

Ted grinned, a strange sight with the night vision goggles back on his forehead.
 
"You’re going to want something big so we can carry the remaining supplies and all of us."

"What about
two
?" asked Brin.

Ted thought for a moment.
 
"That's a possibility, but it brings all kinds of complications with it.
 
Two drivers means one less person to shoot back at bad guys.
 
Two cars means more of a chance that we'll get split up…"

"Let me see what's out there first," said Erik.
 
"If I can't find any gas it doesn't matter, anyway."

"I'll leave it running and be ready to light up the .50."
 
Ted gripped Erik's shoulder.
 
"Be quick, be quiet, stay low.
 
If you see me turn the lights on, we're compromised—you need to get your ass back here, like fast."

Brin handed Erik his pack.
 
"I put enough supplies in here for a few days in the woods.”

“Don't stick around on my account,” Erik replied.
 
“If we run into another group like back at that strip mall, just clear on out of here."
 
Erik cinched his vest tight.
 
"I'll slip away into the woods and meet up with you.
 
Five miles north?"

Ted thought for a moment staring out the window.
 
"If we can get away fast enough, five miles might be good.
 
Stay in touch.
 
These radios only have a 20 mile range in the best terrain."

"Got it."
 
Erik looked back at Brin.
 
She stared at him and for a second he thought she was going to open her mouth and say something—at least that's what her eyes suggested.
 
In the dim light, she looked ready to cry, scream, or even fight.
 
Brin dropped her eyes to the floor and turned away.
 

Erik's heart sank.
 
He sighed, took one last look outside, then opened the door and stepped out into the chilly dawn.
 
Ted saw the exchange and shook his head.
 

"Good luck."

Erik flashed a thumbs-up sign and shut the door as quietly as possible.
 
A deep breath settled his nerves and focused him on the task at hand.
 
He took a quick glance around.
 
Not seeing any movement, he scurried across the gravel driveway to a pair of cars blocking the way into the dealership.
 
He crouched down behind the bumper of one of them—a crumpled Ford Escape—and checked the straps on his pack.
 

Erik marveled at the way the world and changed in the past six months.
 
Halloween was only a
 
week behind them.
 
If things had stayed on track in his life—if the power had stayed on and the Russians hadn't invaded, he might have been a teacher by now.
 

I’d be looking ahead to Thanksgiving break.

A dog barked in the distance, the sound faint.
 
A robin welcomed the dawn.
 
Erik snapped back into the present and peered quickly around the corner like Ted taught him.
 
No movement.
 

He shuffled around the ruined Escape and sprinted ten yards to the first line of parked vehicles.
 
Sliding in the gravel to a stop with his back against the passenger side of a used Toyota 4Runner, he paused.
 
Erik waited for the beating of his heart to slow back to normal.
 
Still no movement.
 
The only sound he heard came from the roughly idling M-ATV.
 

Damn that thing’s loud.

He held his breath and looked around.
 
Still no movement.
 
The place was empty.
 
He pulled the radio off his vest and clicked the transmit button.
 
"I don't see anything…this place is deserted."

“Make sure you clear the building."

Erik nodded at Ted's statement and put the radio back on his vest.
 
He was three rows back from the main building, approaching from angle.
 
No windows on his side meant he could approach with impunity.
 
Erik gathered his courage and sprinted across the first row of cars, coming to a stop and hiding behind a Ford Expedition.
 
He looked at the sheer size of the vehicle.
 

"This thing might work…" he muttered to himself.
 
He took a quick glance inside the window and noticed three rows of seating.

If we drop that third row there might be enough space to store all our supplies back there.
 
The kids and one adult can sit in the middle row and the rest up front.
 

Erik filed that thought away and sprinted across the gravel to the next row of cars.
 
He stopped alongside a Ford F150.
 
The truck had been fitted with a 4x4 lift kit.
 
His legs felt exposed next to the jacked up truck.
 
This thing would certainly get us through rough terrain…but there's not enough space for all of us.
 
And our gear would be exposed.

Erik's radio broke squelch.
 
"
Still clear
," advised Ted.

He clicked the transmit button twice and sprinted for the third and final row.
 
He skidded to a stop next to a minivan that had been partially burned.
 
He brushed his fingertips against the bubbled paint on the rear door.
 
A quick glance towards the main building showed him why the cars in this row had been burned.
 
The building, seemingly undamaged from the road, was mostly a shell.
 

He took a good look left and right.
 
Seeing no movement, he ran across the open space and worked his way down the side of the dealership.
 
He headed toward the rear, confident if anyone were inside waiting to spring a trap, they’d be toward the front where they could see the road.
 

Erik slipped around the back and his hopes fell.
 
The whole back wall of the building had collapsed during a fire—charred rubble, bits of rebar, and debris spilled out into the service area behind the office.
 

The fire had gutted the building.
 
He looked at the three blackened remains of showroom vehicles in the front.
 
There wouldn't be anything useful to scavenge in there.
 
He turned the corner and glanced inside, peering into the darkened interior.
 

 
"The building’s a total loss,” he reported.
 
“A fire got started here a while ago—there's weeds and shit already growing in the showroom."

Erik's radio chirped.
 
"Damn.
 
See if you can find fuel storage tanks.
 
Sometimes dealers have those…"

"On it," replied Erik.
 
He clipped the radio back to his vest and brought his rifle up to his shoulder.
 
He scooted along the exterior of the rubble pile at the rear of the building, keeping a wary eye out for movement.
 
Erik crouched next to a black and white sign that he could barely read in the growing light.
 

 
Service Department

Gotta be getting close.

He peered out into the empty yard and spotted a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire around the rear end of the property.
 
Several small structures sat tucked inside the chain-link fence.
 
Bingo
.
 
He pulled the radio off his vest.

"Found something.
 
Looks like a couple big tanks and an electrical shed.
 
Everything looks untouched," he said quietly, eyes roving the dealership.
 
"But we're gonna need a big set of bolt cutters to get through."

"Erik, get back here—there’s people in front of us.
 
Four guys on foot.
 
I think they're armed,"
said Brin.

Erik stared at the fuel depot.
 
Damn
.
 
"Okay, I'm on my way."

Heart racing, he turned and sprinted around the corner of the building.
 
As he approached the fire-damaged row of cars, headlights in the distance behind the M-ATV caught his eye.
 
He ripped the radio off as he passed charred minivan and continued racing to the next row.
 

"Lights! On the road behind you—headlights!"

"
Hurry!
" Brin urged.

"You in the truck!" a voice called out over a loudspeaker.

The suddenness of the sound caused Erik to trip mid-stride.
 
He fell painfully to the ground and skidded in the gravel on his chest, coming to a stop behind the first row vehicles in the parking lot.
 
Cursing, he got to his knees.
 
He reached for the radio and his hand came up empty.
 
In a panic he spun around.
 
The radio lay out in the open space between the rows of cars.

"Shit!" he hissed.

"I say again, you in the truck!
 
Come on out!
 
We got you surrounded!"

"
Shit
," Erik said again through clenched teeth.
 
He gripped his rifle and looked around, hoping he wouldn't find someone sneaking up on him.
 
The lot remained deserted save for him and the empty cars.

A squeal of brakes from the road brought his attention back to the M-ATV.
 
A Hull County Sheriff’s Department
 
cruiser had parked directly behind the M-ATV, next to a beat-up red pickup full of armed men.
 
As he watched, men spill out in a disorderly rabble and took up positions behind the vehicles in the road.
 
He peered north.
 
Armed men blocked the road.

"Shit."

Chapter 8

A New Nest

L
IEUTENANT
C
OMMANDER
E
LLIOT
R
IGGS
banked his F-35C Lightning II and glanced down to starboard.
 
The long ribbon of I-95 stretched onto the north and south hundreds of feet below.
 
Hawk flight streaked over the front elements of General Stapleton's army in loose formation.
 
They hadn't encountered so much as a bird once they left the immediate area surrounding the scuttled
Roosevelt
in the Upper Bay.
 
Admiral Nella’s fighters owned the skies over New York.

"
Hawk Lead, Two
," Jonesy's voice crackled in his helmet speaker.

Riggs tore his eyes off the surreal sight of tanks, APCs, and Bradleys trundling down I-95.
 
"Go ahead, Two."

"I got nothing from Zeus."

"Okay, Hawks, let's split up.
 
You have your way-points.
 
Keep an eye out and I'll meet you at ONAS."

After a round of acknowledgments, the rest of the squadron peeled off in pairs and spread the front over a few miles.
 
Each 2-plane element would be just out of visual range of the next, making for a wide swath of visual coverage on their flight south.

Jonesy pulled his fighter in formation with Riggs.
 
"
Awful strange seeing all that hardware down there
," he commented.

Riggs rolled his fighter again and looked at the column of tanks and armored vehicles.
 
"Sure does."
 
A column of eight-wheeled personnel carriers snaked its way along the interstate.
 
"Whoa, you see that?" he asked.
 
"That lead Stryker down there just plowed through three cars.
 
That was intense!"

Riggs watched as the first two Strykers—which appeared to have snowplows or something attached to their noses—slammed into abandoned cars, clearing a path for the rest of the pack.

"Sure hope there's no one in those cars,"
muttered Jonesy.

"Amen to that.
 
All right, enough sight-seeing.
 
Let's go find us some rebels."
 
Riggs leveled out his ride and pushed the throttle forward, increasing speed and pulling away from the Strykers.
 
"Just keep in touch with Zeus.
 
I don't want any Russians surprising us."