Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) (35 page)

Malcolm knew what he must do. He turned to his lieutenant. "Send word back. Tell them what happened here! Tell them how we were attacked!"
 

Malcolm stared at the group of men across the bridge, their numbers growing by the minute as more and more armed citizens approached from Dunham. The whole town appeared to be gathering for a party.

Malcolm stared at his blood-covered hands and looked into the innocent face of a teenage boy, staring up into the sky with unblinking eyes.

"We will make Dunham burn."

Chapter 38

The Fever

B
RIN
PULLED
THEM
SLOWLY
around a disabled tractor-trailer.
 
She slowed as they approached the outskirts of Leesburg, pausing just long enough for Ted to get a good look at the semi.

"It's empty."

"You're sure?" asked Erik from the back.
 
He craned his neck to see through the tinted side windows but only spotted the open maw of the trailer.

"Oh yeah.
 
Someone took this thing apart a while ago.
 
Look at all the trash in the street."

Erik glanced around at the ground as the van rolled past the sleeping 18-wheeler.
 
Ted was right—paper and empty bags swirled in the breeze.
 
Rotting cardboard boxes and electronics littered the road.

"Careful—don't run over anything," warned Ted.
 
"I don't think we have a spare tire…"

"Easier said than done," muttered Brin, wincing as the tires crunched something plastic.
 
"What do you think happened here?"

"Desperation," Ted said in a quiet voice.
 
"Keep going.
 
I'm thinking our best bet might be to roll through town and stop for the night on the east side."

Erik stared at the empty buildings and houses on the outskirts of Leesburg, just south and west of the Maryland border.
 
"Yeah…" he mumbled.
 
"I think that's a good idea."

House after house had been burned to the ground.
 
The charred beams and timbers that rose from the ashes and rubble looked like skeletal fingers reaching up from the grave.
 
The whole south side of Leesburg had burned almost to the ground.

"Wonder how the fire started?" asked Brin.

"Could have been anything from arson to lightning," replied Ted.
 
He remained silent for a moment as they drove past a house with three wooden crosses planted in the front yard near small grass-covered mounds.
 
"Once the fires got started, without electricity to pump the water into the hydrants, they must have burned out of control."

"For days, it looks like," said Erik.
 
"This place looks like Dresden after World War II."

Even the children sat silent as the van made its way through the debris-clogged, deserted streets.
 
Teddy burrowed his head into Lindsay's shoulder as they drove past a playground.
 
The equipment had melted in the heat of the fire into unrecognizable, monstrous shapes.

"Anyone see any movement?" asked Erik.

"Negative," replied Ted.
 
"Stay frosty—I don't like this.
 
Brin, let's pick up the pace a bit."

"The road’s getting more and more congested—I'm trying."

"Heads up!" called out Erik.
 
"Got a walker at 3 o'clock."
 
He stared at the shabby figure that emerged from the shadows between two buildings, hands raised.

"Armed?" asked Ted, turning in his seat.
 
"I can't see 'em—Brin, keep moving, don't slow down."

"Make that two walkers."
 
Erik shifted to Brin's side of the van.
 
"I can't see anything.
 
They have their hands up—looks like one's an old woman."

"Should we stop to help her?" asked Lindsay's small voice from the back-back.

Ted glanced at Erik.
 
"No, sweetie—we don't know—"

A hole appeared in the window not six inches from Erik's face and the glass spider-webbed.
 
He stumbled back out of the seat and fell on the floor with a curse.

"Get down!" shouted Ted.
 
"Brin—floor it, we’re taking fire!"

"But—"

"Go, go, go!" Erik called out.
 
"It’s a trap!"

Lindsay screamed.
 
"Daddy!"

Tires squealed, the children cried, Erik cursed as he slammed against the sliding door, and Brin drove the van like she’d stolen it.
 

"Hang on!" she called over her shoulder.

"Now she tells me," muttered Erik.

"I can't see them!" yelled Ted, pistol drawn.
 
He peered around through the side and rear windows, looking for the shooter.

"There's someone in the street," announced Brin.
 
"I see them in the mirror—they've got a rifle!"

"Swerve!
 
Take the next side street!"
 

Erik struggled to his knees as the van rocked back and forth with Brin's efforts at evasive driving.
 
He flew to the other side of the van and smashed his face against the window.
 
As his vision cleared, a shot shattered the rear window, spilling glass chicklets on the children, huddled down low against the rear door.
 
Erik heaved himself between the middle seats and threw his body over the screaming children, forcing them away from the door.

"Stay down," he said in a soothing voice.
 
"I'm wearing a bullet-proof vest—just stay in front of me and they won't be able to hit you."
 
It was a lie, but one the children were eager to believe.
 
They crawled forward and stayed as low as they could to the bucking floor.

The engine revved, and the tires squealed again.
 
"Hang on, here comes the turn!" shouted Brin.

Erik wrapped his arms around the kids as another round thudded into the door above his shoulder.
 
Come on, baby, get us the hell out of here.

"Why are they shooting at us?" shrieked Lindsay.
 
"What's wrong with them!
 
We didn't do anything!"

Erik pulled the children close and held them against his chest as the van sped away, the wind from the ruined window howling in his ears.
 
Eventually the road smoothed out, and the children stopped crying.

"Everyone okay?" asked Ted over the noise of the wind through the broken windows.
 
He crawled back to his kids.
 
"Is anyone hurt?"

Not accepting their mumbled responses, Ted frantically searched them, looking for blood or cuts from bullets or glass.
 
Satisfied no one had been hurt in the brief exchange, he embraced Lindsay in a bear hug and buried his face in her hair.

Erik disentangled himself from Teddy and took Ted's place in the front seat while the family consoled each other in the back.
 
He adjusted his helmet and scanned the buildings that sped by.
 

"Whoa…I think you can slow down now, sweetie," he said softly.
 

Brin ignored him and jerked her head as if she'd been slapped.
 
Her hands gripped the wheel with white knuckles as the van approached 70 mph down the little residential street.

Erik's eyes flicked from his wife's face to the cords standing out on her neck, to the road that zipped under their wheels.
 
"Brin, listen to me, you need to slow down, just a little.
 
Just a little bit—not a lot.
 
Can you do that?"

Brin whimpered but nodded.
 
The van's engine changed pitched and their speed dropped a hair.
 

"Hey, we need to slow down…" warned Ted.
 

Erik swallowed.
 
"Good, that's good…okay, let's take 'er down a little more.
 
Okay?
 
There's no one over here—the buildings all look burned down just like on the south side of town.
 
Just slow down a little…"

She nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek.
 

"Erik…" Ted said a little louder.
 

Erik took another glance out the windshield.
 
In the distance, maybe three blocks away, the road ended in a T-intersection.
 
A cluster of signs stood directly in their path in front of some charred tree trunks.

"Baby, I need you to listen to the sound of my voice.
 
Take your foot off the gas."

"I
can't
," she whispered.

"You can…do this for me, okay?"

She shook her head.
 
"Got to get away…"

Erik checked the intersection.
 
Two blocks away and closing fast.
 
They were still doing 50 mph.
 
"Brin, we need to turn up ahead.
 
You've got to slow down."

"I…"
 

"
Erik
…" called out Ted's voice in warning.

"Brin…come on…" Erik looked at the intersection.
 
They were only a block away.

"Everyone turn around and put your backs against a seat," said Ted from the back.
 
"Hurry!"

"Brin," he said, not bothering to look forward.
 
If she didn't stop them, they'd all die when the van crashed into the barrier.
 
"I love you."

The van dipped down as Brin slammed on the brakes.
 
She closed her eyes and screamed, her voice competing with the chirping tires as they shuddered to a stop not two feet from the intersection railing.

Erik blinked and took a deep breath.
 
Jesus Christ.
 
His eyes met Ted's in the very back of the van.
 
He turned away to comfort Lindsay, who'd started crying again.

“Again!
 
Again!” cheered Teddy.

Brin sat there, staring out the front window.
 
She slowly peeled her hands off the wheel and shifted into park.
 
They both opened their doors to get out at the same time.
 
Erik raced around the rear of the idling van, ignoring the damage it had taken escaping the ambush and raced to his wife.

He'd expected to wrap her in a bear hug—this had to be the breakthrough he'd been waiting for.
 
He opened his arms and moved to her.

She shoved him aside and stepped past.

"What—"

"Not yet," she said in a soft voice laced with steel.

"Brin," Erik said, feeling the heat in his own voice.

She looked at him, her eyes red, filled with tears and ready to burst.
 
"Not yet," she whispered.

Erik's heart broke.
 
She stood there before him, more in need of his support and love than ever before in their relationship, yet she banned him from helping.

"Why?" he asked softly.
 
"Why won't you let me—"

"I said not
yet!
" she shouted and fled to the other side of the van.

Erik took a moment to catch his breath and swallow his anger before climbing into the driver's seat.
 
He slammed the door with more force than he'd meant and took a few more calming breaths.

"Everything copacetic?" asked Ted from the back.

"Fine," said Erik through clenched teeth.
 
He threw the van into reverse and backed up through the intersection.

"Which way do we need to go?" asked Ted, moving into the middle seat.

"North."
 
Erik turned left and followed the signs for Highway 15 to Frederick, Maryland.

"Okaaaay," muttered Ted.

"Daddy?" asked Lindsay.
 
"I don't feel so good."

Ted turned and disappeared into the back again.
 
Before Erik could say anything to Brin, he heard someone throw up.
 
The sickly-sweet sour odor of vomit filled the van.

"Eeeew!" whined Teddy.

Erik glanced in the rear-view mirror.
 
Ted had crouched down behind the middle driver-side seat.

"That's okay, honey, let it out…"

Lindsay threw up again, the sound as revolting as the smell.
 
Teddy started to cry.
 
Brin seemed to snap back into herself and unstrapped her seatbelt before moving to the back.

Erik tried not to break the steering wheel in half.
 
For the life of him, he couldn't figure out what Brin's problem was, but he worried that things would get too strained between them to salvage their relationship.
 
He was feeling more and more like a stranger around her these days.
 

Brin returned to his side and stared out the windshield.
 
"We got a problem."

"What is it?
 
Was she hit?"

"No," Brin said, never looking at him.
 
"Lindsay's got a fever."

"A fever?" asked Erik.
 
"Is she sick?"

"I don't know…maybe that chili was bad?
 
Maybe it's her leg…"

"Oh God, is that cut infected?"
 
Erik's mind raced.
 
They had no antibiotics.
 
How much time would Lindsay have before blood poisoning set in?

"Should we stop and look for medicine?" Brin asked.

"No," said Ted from the back.
 
He moved up to take Brin's position as she reclaimed the passenger seat.

"How is she?" asked Erik.

"She's resting.
 
Feels like a low grade fever to me.
 
I'm concerned, but it's nothing to panic over yet."