Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) (43 page)

"You have a radio."

Roger looked at Ted.
 
"Yes!
 
Give that man a cookie.
 
Actually, give
this
man a cookie, if you have one.
 
Do you?"

"No," said Erik in a flat voice.

"Oh.
 
Well, but yes, we have a radio," Roger continued, fidgeting with the water bottle.
 
He squeezed it and made it crackle, then flexed it again. "We've been listening to the international efforts to help out.
 
You know, the U.N. mission.
 
I'm not surprised you guys have that Russian stuff—they're taking the lead on the humanitarian front."

"Humanitarian front…?" sputtered Brin.
 
"
Russians?
"

Erik reached out and put a hand on Brin's arm.
 
She blinked and looked ready to spit nails but closed her mouth at his nod.
 
"I'm going…I'm going to go check on Lindsay," she said and left the room.

"She okay?" asked Roger after Brin left.

"She's fine," replied Erik with a warning look at his wife.
 

“For now,” added Brin, crossing her arms.
   

Erik sighed and looked away.
 
Really?

"What else have you heard?" asked Ted quickly.

"Well,” Roger said slowly, watching Brin make a face at Erik.
 
“Uh…the Russians and the U.N., they’re like, sending over food and supplies, you know?
 
But there's still pockets of people out there who think they're
invading.”
 
Roger exhaled.
 

“They're just clinging to their Bibles and guns—you know, crazy people.
 
They haven't gotten with the times—this a new world, man.
 
Things are different now.
 
We have to be able to accept a handout from our fellow citizens of the world…"
 
Roger paused.
 
"You guys are looking at me like I just stepped off a ship from Mars."

Erik spoke first.
 
"It's just…well, we haven't heard anything from the outside world in so long…It's kind of hard to take in all these changes at once, you know?"

Roger nodded with sagacity.
 
"I understand.
 
Sometimes I forget what we have here is so much more than most people have out there.
 
I heard Florida is worse off than most.
 
They said a pretty badass hurricane came through just after the power grid failed and really set you folks back to the Dark Ages."

“A hurricane?” Ted muttered.
 
He glanced at Erik, saw the warning look in his eyes and closed his mouth.

"You have no idea," said Erik.

"It must have been a relief to see the Russians show up with food and water," Roger added.

"We were very grateful for their food," agreed Erik carefully.
 
"Even if it does taste a little strange."

Roger laughed.
 
"See?
 
That's the kind of attitude we need to have as a country going forward.
 
We're not the leader of the world anymore,” he said, scratching at his beard.
 
“When the power grid went down, we stepped into a time machine.
 
We're back in the 1800s while the rest of the world is still in the twenty-first century.
 
It's a real mind job, but there it is, man."

Brin came downstairs and motioned for Ted to talk privately.
 
Erik took the lead with Roger.
 
"So, uh, tell me more about the Jocks.
 
They're kind of like your arch-enemies or something, right?"

Roger sighed.
 
"Well, not as much as the Rebels.
 
Those
guys are just plain nuts.
 
They're zealots.
 
There's no talking or reasoning with them.
 
At least the Jocks can appreciate what a truce means.
 
Or they did, up until today."

"You have a truce with them?"

"
Had
a truce with them," said Roger.
 
He sighed.
 
"It'll take some pretty good talking to justify their sudden attack this morning.
 
Those shops were cleared out a month ago—and they know it.
 
That's the only reason I escaped—"

"You escaped?
 
You were a prisoner?"

"Yeah, that's why Tammy was surprised to see me alive.
 
They took me in a raid back in September.
 
Far as I know, I'm the only one who ever made it back to safety."

"So this Professor is going to be pretty happy you’re back, huh?"

Roger paused and stared at Erik.
 
His left eye twitched.
 
"I should hope so, I was his lead assistant.
 
God only knows how he survived without me."

Erik had to suppress a grin as he nodded.
 
I can't wait to tell Ted…we got ourselves a nice little bargaining chip here.

"The real threat in town is the Rebels."

Erik checked the window again.
 
Still nothing.
 
He watched a fluffy cloud float overhead.
 
"Okay, you keep talking about them.
 
Who are they?"

"They've taken over the west campus.
 
Pretty much everything west of here, actually.
 
This here is like, the edge of no-man's-land, man," he said, patting the commercial grade carpet on the floor.

"That explains a lot," muttered Erik.

"You were pretty confused by all the barricades, huh?" asked Roger with a smile.
 
"That was my idea.
 
See, the rebels still have access to a few working cars—ones the rednecks haven't disabled or shot up."

"Rednecks?" asked Erik.
 
"How many groups do you have in this town?
 
I didn't think Newark was that big…"

"Oh, they're not based here—they're from Maryland.
 
I call them rednecks—I honestly have no idea what color their necks are."
 
Roger waited for Erik to laugh, then cleared his throat and continued.
 
"Um, they're just a bunch of townie racists, actually.
 
They're always fighting with the Rebels."

"Okay, wait again—who are these rebels?" asked Erik, one hand on his head.

"They call themselves the Brotherhood.”

A chill ran down Erik’s spine.
 
“The Brotherhood?”

Roger nodded.
 
“They're…well, we consider them black separatists.
 
Freedom fighters, you might say."

Freedom fighters?
 
Is this guy nuts?
 
"Separatists?"

"Yeah—from what we can gather, they just want to be left alone.
 
They're the ones who built this country.
 
Well, not them specifically, but their ancestors, right?”
 
Roger paused and smiled.
 
When Erik stared at him in disbelief, the smile faded and he continued.

“The slaves, man—you know, they’re the ones who
really
built this country.
 
I say it's the least we can do for them, to let them have their own space.
 
Hell, the country is plenty big enough and goodness knows we aren't doing anything productive with all that land anymore."

Erik blinked.
 
He was glad when Ted returned to the room—he had no idea how to respond to Roger's last statement.
 
He wanted to laugh and punch the fool at the same time.
 
The level of delusion Roger lived under was epic.
 
Before Ted could speak, Erik thought of something.

“Have you seen any flags or banners the Rebels fly?”

Roger snorted.
 
“Oh yeah.
 
They love the hand thing.
 
No one really knows what that’s all about, but they paint it on everything.”

Erik thought back to the parking garage and the graffiti he found.
 
“You mean the black fist, raised up like this?” he asked, raising his own fist to mimic the painting.

Roger shook his head.
 
“No, that was what they did in the beginning.
 
You can still see some of their graffiti throughout the town.
 
They used that black fist back before we agreed to a truce with the Jocks.
 
Now they use this white hand thing—ever since all the refugees came pouring out of Philly.
 
Well, that and after the army came through.”

Erik leaned against the wall.
 
It felt like someone had hit him in the chest with a piece of lumber.
 
White Hand.
 
Jesus Christ, it’s those guys again…they’re everywhere!

“You okay, man?
 
You look like you’ve seen a ghost…or maybe had a few too many of those Russian bars…”

Ted cleared his throat. "Roger, you said you have communications."

"Yeah, we got radios.
 
That's how we found out the power was back on in Philly and why people were leaving."
 
He shook his head.
 
"I suppose it's going to be like that everywhere—gangs took over after the grid collapsed.
 
The government is going to have to take the kid gloves off and get serious about restoring law and order.
 
I wouldn't want to stay there either.
 
Not if I had any choice."

"Yep," Erik agreed quickly.
 
Ted looked like he wanted to ask a question.
 
"But where do you get your news?
 
Like the BBC or something?"

Roger laughed.
 
"Oh hell no—we don't listen to those fascist pricks.
 
The Professor knows they're just propagandists.
 
They're just spewing the same hate as those guys from Maryland that keep harassing the Rebels.
 
The same shit those army scouts said.
 
Always talking about liberty and national sovereignty.”
 
He laughed bitterly.
 
“As if we gave up the right to free speech when the lights went out," Roger said, shaking his head.
 
"No, we listen to the broadcasts from the U.N. news service they broadcast out of New York.
 
I guess it's kind of like their headquarters or something?”

Erik looked at Ted.
 
New York?

"Anyway," he continued, "that's where we get our real news—or at least we did.
 
I haven’t heard anything since before the Jocks captured me.
 
But the Professor used to let us all listen to updates on how the recovery efforts were going all the time…like, before, you know, man?"

"That's where you heard the Russians are doing so much good in Florida, right?" asked Ted.

"Yup," replied Roger.
 
"From what we heard, it was pretty nice down there.
 
Why'd you leave?"

Erik blinked.
 
"Uh…"

"My daughter's sick," Ted said suddenly.
 
"Do you think the Professor will really have any antibiotics?"

Roger smiled.
 
"Oh sure.
 
The Professor's actually an apiologist."
 
Roger stared at Erik and Ted for a moment.
 
"Apiology?
 
You know, the study of bees?"

Erik glanced at Ted and shrugged.

"What does that mean?" asked Ted.

"Bees make honey."

"Yes, I
know
that," growled Ted.
 
"How does that answer my question?
 
Does he have access to antibiotics or not?"

"I said
yes
, man.
 
Look, honey has been used throughout history as an anti-biotic.
 
We’ve use it plenty of times to heal cuts and stuff.
 
I think he boils it in water to put on bigger wounds.”

“You said your roommate got a scratch and died though—” began Erik.

“That was different,” Roger said.

“How?” asked Ted.

“He didn’t follow the Professor’s advice.”
 
Roger shrugged.
 
“Good guy, you know?
 
But he was an engineering major.
 
Very analytical.
 
He wouldn’t see reason.
 
He cared more for his measurements and his calibrations than for things like freedom and survival.”
 
Roger looked down at the carpet.
 
“I liked him, man.”

“So only the Professor’s supporters get access to the meds?” asked Ted.
 

Roger looked up.
 
“You think there'd still be 30 or 40 of us if we didn't have honey?
 
Shoot, we'd be more like the Jocks, just running on dumb luck."

Ted nodded, looking out the window.
 
"Good.
 
Because your friends are about to arrive."

Erik glanced around a curtain.
 
"I don't see anything."

"I just spotted them coming down the street when I was upstairs.
 
There's a group of about ten headed our way.
 
Got a big white flag and a few smaller ones.
 
It looks like their coming in peace, anyway."

"God, I can't wait to take a shower," sighed Roger as he leaned his head against the wall.

"You have antibiotics and showers?" asked Brin from the stairwell.
 
She looked at Erik.
 
"Okay,
now
I'm glad we stopped in this town."