The Dragons of Men (The Sons of Liberty Book 2) (35 page)

You look like hell.

Adam laughed as he shook his head and handed the small board back to Marc. “I can almost hear your French accent on the whiteboard.”

A grin split Marc’s face as he nodded back.

“Lillian says she’s teaching you sign language,” Adam said. “I think I might also pick it up so we can continue our lively conversations from before.”

Marc scribbled on his board before raising it back up.

First lesson…

He smiled before giving Adam the middle finger, causing the room to fill with quiet laughter.

“How do you feel?” Adam asked, still chuckling.

Marc glanced over at Lillian who smiled back before turning to Adam. “We went over this all before and it’ll be easier for me to rehash that conversation. He’s a bit tired, but he’s still strong for a man that has been in bed for three weeks. Despite my instructions to stay in bed, I found him walking around just before I sent Jack and Alan out to fetch you. Though I’m sure Lev and William would love to sit here and keep Marc company because he’s just so nice to be around, they’re really here to make sure he doesn’t disobey the good doctor’s orders again. Regardless, that chemical pack did its job and stopped the bleeding before it became too problematic. Though he’ll carry quite the scar for the rest of his life, it’s already scabbing over and healing up nicely. He’ll be weaker than normal for another week or two from the loss of blood, but with the right diet and exercise his body can replenish his blood levels rather quickly.”

Marc smiled, glanced down at his whiteboard, and scribbled again before handing it to Adam.

I could stand up and outrun all of your American asses right now.

Adam smiled, handing the whiteboard back. “I didn’t think a trivial thing like taking a bullet to the neck could still the voice of a man like Marc L’ecuyer.”

Marc looked down at the board again, jotting down a lengthy response before raising it for Adam to read.

I’m not just talk. Still able to fight.

Adam read over Marc’s words, his gaze growing distant once he finished. Eventually he smiled and nodded back.

“I’m sure you are,” Adam said. “If we had only more men like you before all this happened, America might still….”

Marc held up his hand, cutting Adam off before scribbling again. Once he was finished, he handed it to Adam.

She’s not dead so long as we’re alive to fight.

Adam looked at the words blankly before handing the board back.

“I’ll be back to check on you in the next couple of hours,” Adam muttered. “Take care of yourself, Marc.” Adam turned and quickly walked out of the room. He wanted to disappear again. He wanted to re-submerge himself in isolation as he tried to block the past out of his mind. But as much as he wanted to simply forget, he wanted even more to believe Marc could be right.

Don’t listen to him,
Adam thought quickly as he began to descend the stairs.
America is dead! You’re just one man. What could you possibly do?
He leapt to the ground from the front porch, the screen door slamming shut behind him as he pulled the cowl back over his head. As soon as his boots hit the ground, the door’s hinges quickly squealed again as someone from inside followed after him.

“So you’re just going to go back to your pile of wood?” Jack called out, though Adam didn’t turn around. He merely halted, breathing out misty clouds from underneath his hood. A group of nearly fifteen men and women—Gene and Edward among them—approached from the side after returning from the storehouse with supplies for dinner. They slowed quietly, their eyes on Adam as Jack spoke. “It’s alright if you need time to figure it all out. I was just like you five months ago when this all went down and…well, let’s just say I understand.”

“You understand what?” Adam asked defensively as he turned around.

“I understand you’re not really out there to chop wood,” Jack replied, shifting his rifle on his shoulder. “We used to see a lot of crap every day working the streets. We’d arrest kids for possession of narcotics only to find them dead at their parents’ house later, lifeless after choking to death on their own vomit the day after the courts let them off with no more than a slap on the wrist. We’ve seen bodies strewn across the interstate because some teenage kid couldn’t resist responding to a stupid text message. I’ve witnessed carnage that kept me up at night, whether it was an old man putting a bullet through his skull on Christmas Day or a young girl dying in a drive-by shooting. After a few years, you learn to grow numb to it with repetitive tasks. Some guys would go to the range to hone their skills, while others would tinker on a bike or car. So disappearing by yourself to empty your mind of everything but the drip of rain and the fall of the axe is understandable. I’ve been there and I know what you’re doing.”

Adam looked back at Jack for a few silent moments before smiling and letting loose a chuckle.

“What is this?” Adam began, “An intervention?”

“No,” Jack began. “It’s your new friends looking after you. It’s me, Alan, our wives, Lillian, and everyone you see here hoping and praying that you might be willing to be the man we know you are and prove Marc’s words true.”

“Why the hell do you all care anyway? What, do you hope I might lead you to some great victory? Do you think America might resurface through me? Do you think freedom can ring again? Wake up! What we had before was a gift squandered. America was a lightning bolt from the heavens and as the saying goes, lightning doesn’t strike the same spot twice.”

Jack paused for a moment, staring back at Adam silently as Lillian and Alan stood to his sides. They all looked forward quietly, the new arrivals included, as though studying him for the first time. He hated that they had clung to him like he was some superstar from the moment he arrived. He had tried to discourage them with silence and absence, but that had apparently only fueled their curiosity. He now saw no other way than to dishearten them with cruel words. It was a thin rope he walked—trying to be thankful for their help while attempting to be ungrateful for their presence.

“You know,” Jack finally began, “it’s funny how one of the hardest decisions we’ve faced during times like these is the decision to let new people in.”

“Then why save us?” Adam asked. “Why bring us back here and let us in? You were fine before we came. We were the ones who needed help, not the other way around.”

“I’m not talking about letting you in for shelter,” Jack replied. “I know there’s evil on the road looking for strangers to exploit, but there are also those of us who like to consider ourselves decent, patriotic folks. Saving you in Bryson City wasn’t something my friends and I needed to debate about as we watched them drag you out of a house for execution. I was more than willing to align my rifle sights with an Imperium Officer that was about to murder a group of strangers. When we found out who you were…well, there was no question of whether or not we were going to help a patriot like yourself. But like I said, that’s not what I was talking about.”

“Then what are you talking about?” Adam asked, his eyes narrowing as he gazed back at them.

“I’m talking about letting people in on your story,” Jack said. “There is no one alive today who doesn’t have a story to tell. Our numbers have fluctuated up and down since we arrived here. We started out with one doctor, five nurses, eight sickly toddlers, two cops and an overweight security guard who’d jump if you sneezed. Now, we’re almost forty strong and we’ve been fortunate to stave off any action other than saving your ass in Bryson City.”

“Listen, I’m grateful for your hospitality and I’m sure my friends are too.” Adam glanced over at Gene and Edward. “But please don’t think I’m someone for you to unite behind. Maybe once I was zealous and ready to lead. Now…I’ve lost too much and I don’t think I’m ready to share my story with anyone. Talking about it all won’t bring anyone back.”

“It’s not about bringing people back,” Lillian said, stepping forward slowly with her arms crossed in front of her. “I don’t tend to put too much stock in random chance. I don’t believe Jack and Alan just happened to save the life of a man that had nearly stopped all of this from happening in the first place.”

“The man who tried and failed,” Adam said with the shake of his head. “I failed to stop that son of a bitch from destroying this country and I lost everything because of it. Millions lost everything because I failed. Now, those around me—my family, Marc, and Tanker—they continue to pay the price for my incompetency. That’s my sad and cruel story, and it’s all I care to share. Especially with a group of people who spent the winter warming themselves by a fire while Americans died.”

As Adam finished, he immediately wished he could take the final words back. He was grateful for their aid and he knew Marc might not have survived without Lillian’s medical expertise. Still, for Adam, bringing up the past was like taking a surgeon’s knife to a wound that just wouldn’t heal properly.

“You’re right,” Jack said after a lengthy pause. “I don’t think it right of us to ask for you to share your story when we’ve withheld ours from you.”

“Jack,” Adam began, wanting to apologize for his rudeness, “I—”

“Alan and I had been on patrol in Nashville when the chaos finally hit. And boy, did it hit like a hammer to the chest. Our wives—Leila and Christy—they had both been nurses at Vanderbilt Hospital. Despite our years on the force and our loyalty to the city we loved, we had a hard decision to make when things got bad. Abandoning our jobs and knowing full well that people would die because no one could protect them…that wasn’t easy. But we did what we had to do. We rushed to the hospital and got our wives out as the population began dismantling Nashville at the seams. Though we were quick to flee our duties, our wives wouldn’t budge. Despite our pleas with them, they had refused to abandon the children they were charged with looking after in the Neonatal ICU. So Alan and I went to survey the threat at the front entrance. And that’s when every drug-hungry asshole in the city decided to storm the hospital and take whatever they could. As we tried to protect our wives and the others while they fled to safety, I took a piece of shrapnel in the back from an exploding truck, causing me to black out and miss the next few hours.”

“While Jack was unconscious,” Alan cut in, stepping forward, “we moved him to the NICU wing where Lillian performed emergency surgery to remove the shrapnel and stop the bleeding. A security guard named Jim Gregory and I had barricaded the wing and protected eight nurses, two doctors—including Lillian—and twenty-six high-risk infants until the initial rush for drugs had died down. Jack woke the following day, and after a week of gathering what supplies we could from the hidden cubbies and untouched desk drawers while the city calmed down, we left the hospital and began a week long trek to get here. The entire time we had been expecting to meet up with Jack’s parents as soon as we made it here.”

Adam paused, glancing from Alan to Jack. “Where are your parents?” Adam asked slowly.

“Buried up on the hill near your pile of logs,” Jack replied. “I led us here thinking we’d have a safe haven with food and shelter. By the time we had arrived, it had been six weeks since I had last spoken with my parents and I was hoping we’d find them hunkering down and ready to take us in. I never thought I’d find dad dead from a heart attack and mom hanging from the barn rafters. You never grow up thinking one of your parents might….” Jack looked over at the nearest barn, breathing heavily. “Well, you think they’d fight till the end and never contemplate the easy way out. They left us with shelter, food, and a decent amount of pre-Chambers ammo, but it sure would have been nice to taste mom’s cooking and give her a kiss on the cheek one more time.”

“I’m sorry,” Adam said after a lengthy pause. “I lost my entire family at Fort Bragg. I…I know what it’s like.”

“As do we all,” Jack said. “Losing loved ones is probably the one thing every one of us has in common. As much as we’ve grown and as well protected as we might seem, we’ve had to bury five adults, seven kids, and eighteen toddlers. Eighteen little babies dead because we couldn’t give them what they needed.” Jack paused, glancing back at the house before shaking his head again. “At some point, you stop wanting to get to know people. You don’t want to be able to say anything when you’re done covering up the grave. You want to be numb. But now…I don’t know. The others and I have been talking and we don’t know if you and your friends are people we can afford to be numb with. I think your story is something we need to hear.”

Adam stared back at Jack and Alan for a few silent moments before shaking his head.

“But why?”

“Because we are just about done here, Mr. Reinhart,” Jack said. “We’re nearly out of food and supplies, and our best attempts to scavenge for more have been turning up short. We’ve got some crops we can plant in the next month or two, but one late frost and we’re all starving in August. We have the lake, but fishing to feed forty mouths won’t work forever. Even all that’s dependent on us rationing what little we have left. I hate to say it, but our little refuge here won’t be supporting us that much longer.”

“And what does that have to do with you listening to my story?” Adam inquired slowly.

“Because if we’re going to leave this place, it’s going to be because we’re following the lead of the one man who almost stopped this all from happening. For now, we’d like to know more about that man.”