Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) (17 page)

"What the hell?" asked Ted, making sure to keep his rifle pointing down.

The sheriff didn't respond but let the angry voices of the crowd wash over them.
 
Finally, he drew his pistol, aimed in the air and fired a shot.
 
After the initial screams of surprise died down, silence reigned in the parking lot.
 

"That's better," Sheriff Jonston said.
 
"It's true—I brought these boys in and they helped stop the violence."

"Liar!" someone shouted.
 
"We were fine until
you
came along!"

Next to him, Erik sensed Ted tense.
 
"Sheriff, we had a deal."

The lawman nodded and winced as one of the survivors applied a bandage to his wounded side.
 
"That we did, son, that we did.
 
But unfortunately, it doesn't look like the crowd is very happy with you two right now."

"Hey, we didn't do anything wrong.
 
You said we had to help—"

"You see that, folks?
 
More outsiders trying to stir up trouble.
 
Already wantin’ to go back on their word."
 
He shook his head sadly.

About half the voices screamed for blood, the other half seem to blame the sheriff.
 
Erik had no idea what was going on or why the town was reacting this way, but he knew they needed to leave—immediately.

"I think it would be best for all parties involved if you and yours cleared out of here.”
 
He glanced at the crowd. “Now."

Ted stared at sheriff.
 
"We never wanted this.
 
All we wanted to do was move on—"

"That's what they all say, these outsiders.
 
But they’re all troublemakers!
 
That's why we need law and order!
 
That’s why you folks need me!" the sheriff said to the crowd.
 
More voices than before yelled in his support.

He's pinning this on us…
Erik glanced back at the ruined jail behind him.
 
We need to get out of here before he turns them loose on us.
 

"Fine," Erik said flatly.
 
"Let us get back inside our vehicle and we’ll be gone."

Sheriff Jonston shook his head.
 
"You see, I don't think that's gonna work.
 
You boys caused of a lot of deaths and destruction in Dunham this morning."

Ted opened his mouth to argue, but the sheriff held up his hand.
 
"You're right, we made a deal,” he continued, ensuring the crowd watched.
 
“The deal was if you helped us save those people inside—"

"No, we agreed to show up, not fight," spat Ted.

"Like I was saying," the sheriff continued, glaring at them, "you made a deal to help us rescue these hostages.
 
You
failed
.
 
My boys had to do all the work—you only came in at the last minute.
 
Since you failed to hold up your part of the deal, it's off."

"Then we’re out of here," said Erik.
 
He nudged Ted and the two of them turned toward the M-ATV.

"Not so fast,
outsiders
."
 

A dangerous murmur rippled through the crowd.
 
Erik felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.

"
You
broke the deal, not me.
 
That means I—
we
," he said gesturing at the crowd, "get to keep your vehicle.
 
But I’ll be generous and let you live."

Ted bristled in the crowd’s silence.
 
"And our supplies?"

The sheriff smiled.
 
"I will consider the generous donation of everything inside your vehicle—including your weapons and ammunition—as a parting gift to ease the
 
suffering of the good people of Dunham."
 
The crowd waited for a reaction from Erik and Ted.

Erik tensed, preparing to fight.

"And if we disagree?" asked Ted.
 
His eyes flicked to the M-ATV.

Brin picked up on what was going on and swiveled the turret slightly.
 
The squeak of the metal drew everyone's attention.
 
Several of the men on the front steps of the jail backed up, but the sheriff never flinched.

"It would not surprise me a bit if you were to fight me on this.
 
You already caused enough unnecessary bloodshed in this town though, don't you think?
 
Look around you.
 
There's nothing but unarmed civilians out there.
 
You open up that big gun and you might walk out of here alive, but there's gonna be an awful lot of blood on your hands come Judgment Day."

That's when Erik saw it: a slight movement toward the rear of the M-ATV as a man drew a pistol.
 
Scattered throughout the crowd, Erik spotted more and more weapons appear.
 
The crowd wasn't so innocent as he thought.
 

"This a trap," he whispered Ted.
 
"Lotta guns out there…"

Ted never took his eyes from the sheriff.
 
"Fine.
 
You let us get my kids and his wife out of the truck, and it's yours—including everything in it."
 
Ted grinned.
 
“And the payments.”

The sheriff smiled.
 
“I bet they’re a doozy too.”
 
He nodded at one of his men.
 
“I told you they’d see it my way.”

"But we keep everything we carry,” Ted continued.
 
“You try to take away what we've got on us and that gun’ll open up.
 
Everyone on this platform will die."

Sheriff Jonston regarded Ted coolly through half-closed eyes.
 
"You do that and you'll be the first to go," he said.
 
He motioned with one hand and two men with rifles took aim at Erik and Ted.

Erik felt sweat break out underneath his helmet.
 
He wore his plate carrier, but they had no ballistic plates.
 
His vest was good for hauling gear, but it wouldn't stop the bullet from a hunting rifle at close range.
 
If either one of those men had itchy trigger fingers, Erik and Ted were as good as dead.

"You take our weapons and gear and we’re as good as dead anyway.
 
So the question,
sheriff
," Ted said in a voice cool as ice, "is whether
you
want to live to see another sunrise.
 
Because our little group has seen plenty of what this world has left to offer and we will
not
go down without a fight."

"You
are
deserters," muttered the sheriff.
 

"I'm a marine," Ted snapped, "I don't know the meaning of the word."

Jonston nodded, but the smile faded from his face.
 
"Fair enough.
 
All right boys, let them walk out—they keep what they can carry.
 
Billy," the sheriff called over his shoulder.
 
A lank-haired, greasy man with an enormous beer-gut stepped forward, hand on the pistol at his belt.
 
He looked like he'd be more at ease on a motorcycle than standing next to a sheriff.
 

"Get your truck and escort these folks out of town.
 
Take them to the south bridge and not one foot further.
 
You understand?"

“We’re headed north,” Ted said.

Jonston eyed him for a moment.
 
"Fine.
 
Take them to the northern border.”

“Yes, sheriff," Billy responded with the clumsiest salute Erik had ever seen.

Ted turned to face the crowd.
 
"We didn't know any of this was going on.
 
We were just passing through—"

Catcalls and jeers met Ted's words and drowned him out.
 

"I'm telling you the truth!"
 
Ted bellowed using his best drill instructor's voice.
 
"We just want to be left alone—"

"Why the hell you driving that thing, then?" someone shouted.

The sheriff step closer to Ted.
 
"Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry I dragged you into this.
 
Y'all need to get out of here.
 
Hate me all you want, but you make your peace with it later.
 
If you want to keep your family alive, I suggest you leave with Billy."

That was all the motivation Erik needed.
 
He stepped toward the M-ATV and the crowd backed up.
 
Casting one wary glance at the angry faces surrounding the vehicle, he reached up and unlatched the passenger side suicide door.
 

"Brin?"
 

"I'm on it—we're coming."

Erik glanced over his shoulder and saw Ted near the sheriff, watching.
 
He appeared casual enough, but Erik spotted how Ted had shifted his body so his rifle—though not
aimed
at anyone—pointed at the sheriff.
 
One pull of this trigger and Sheriff Jonston would get a bullet in the chest.
 
The sheriff did his best to ignore the implied threat and held his side, trying to hold his bandage in place.

"If y'all could kindly get a move on…" he looked down at his side.
 
"I'm in need of a bit of medical attention."

"Let's go, kids," Brin said as she emerged into the sunlight.
 

Erik helped Lindsay and Teddy out of the M-ATV, both of them loaded with bags of supplies.
 
Brin worked fast.
 
He smiled at her when she appeared, fully loaded with a backpack and shotgun.
 
She ignored his hand and got down.

Erik didn't relax until Billy's red truck pulled through the crowd and the last of the shouts and thrown trash fell behind them.
 
He and the kids and Brin sat in the filthy bed, wedged in among the empty beer cans that rattled around as Billy weaved his way through town.

Erik turned and looked through the grimy rear window to see Ted talking to the driver as they sped north.
 
Dunham was a small town, and it only took a few minutes for them to pass through the last of the residential streets and onto a small two-lane road that led north.

Billy brought the aging truck to a shuddering stop just across the town line.
 
Erik jumped over the side of the truck and helped the others out of the back as Ted exited the front seat.
 

Without a word, Billy turned the car south.
 
He rolled down the window and sneered at them.
 
"Sheriff must like you.
 
We don't normally let prizes go," he said.

Erik glared at the man.
 
His greasy eyes never left Brin.
 
Erik took a step forward, but Ted shot out an arm and held them back.

"Not worth it."

Billy laughed and hit the gas, spinning tires and sending pebbles and dust in their faces.
 
The children shrieked and ducked as the truck roared off back into town to the tune of Billy's laughter.
 
They stood there until the truck disappeared through the trees around a bend in the road.

"Is it too soon for me to say I told you so?" muttered Brin.

“Yes,” Erik and Ted said in unison.

Erik sighed and looked up at the blue dome overhead.
 
At least it was October and they wouldn't have to deal with the sweltering heat of a Georgia summer as they walked.
 

"I'm sure we'll find a car or something on the way.
 
Let's get moving.
 
We're wasting daylight," said Ted.

They'd only taken a dozen steps when the distinct sound of the M-ATV's turret machine gun rolled like thunder down the road toward them.
 
The ominous
brak-brak-brak
shattered the surrounding stillness.
 
Lindsay began to cry quietly.
 
Teddy reached up and took Erik's hand.
 
His little fingers squeezed tight.

"Come on, we gotta move," Erik said as he urged the group north.

Ted stood still, staring back toward town.
 
"You keep them moving."

Erik stopped in the road while Brin took the hands of the children and kept them walking, talking softly to Lindsay.
 
"What are you talking about?" asked Erik as he stepped up next to Ted.
 
"Come on, we gotta get the hell out of here.
 
We're lucky to be alive and have what we have."

"I can't walk away."

Erik sighed and rolled his eyes.
 
"Dude, we don't have a choice.
 
We have our lives, we escaped—everybody's safe.
 
Let's keep it that way."
 
Erik turned to leave.

"Keep walking north, I'll meet up with you by sundown."

Erik turned and sighed again.
 
His pack suddenly felt like it weighed 200 pounds.
 
"What’re you going to do?" he asked quietly.

Ted looked over his shoulder and grinned.
 
"I'm gonna get us a car."

Chapter 18

Welcome to Florida

H
AKIM
STEPPED
OFF
THE
gangplank leading off the rusted bucket of bolts the crew called a ship, inhaled the humid air and frowned at the smell of rotting vegetation and seawater. He had no idea why people seemed to flock to coastal cities. They perpetually smelled of swamp water.

"Welcome to Tampa, brother!" exclaimed Saldid.
 
"Is it not glorious?"

Hakim frowned and shook his head at his partner's exuberance.
 
He'd expected to see some sort of international police presence guarding the shipping lanes. That said, he had
not
expected to be stopped at gunpoint as he walked down the gangplank.