The Dragons of Men (The Sons of Liberty Book 2) (4 page)

He had seen war—lived it and breathed it for much of his adult life—yet he had foolishly believed this
war would be different. It wasn’t a struggle for oil or an overthrow of a foreign dictator that marched to the strange beat of a different life. It was
the
war for America’s soul. He had believed he could fight this battle as the upright hero, struggling on the side of good as he sought a secret vengeance. Their defeat, however, only solidified the hard truth he had discovered years ago. In order to defeat evil, he must become colder and darker than the blackness that now encircled him. The time for siding with the righteous had passed.

The time to unleash the deadly dragons within had come.

“You heard the man,” Gene said as he abruptly broke the silence. “Everyone pack up and rendezvous at the fallback positions. Wilson, Diego, and Medina—you’re on Chopper Six. I want you in the air ahead of us. Scan all nearby frequencies for Bond’s location. If he’s transmitting, then we might be able to locate them. Lev, Marc—you’re coming with me. We’re going to need every man we have when we hit these bastards again.”

“Their main advance is destroyed and the remaining combatants are retreating,” Lieutenant Roy said, turning to Jacob. “The MIGs defeated the Raptors to the south, though we lost nearly all our fast movers. Sir, DC is secured. We’ve done it. We’ve won.”

Jacob suppressed the overwhelming urge to smile, knowing full well they hadn’t
won
just yet. He might have finished the first half of his mission in one night, but now would come the war to crown a worthy vessel.

“We’re not yet done, chap,” Jacob said. “What about those who fled the Capitol Building?”

“Last we heard, Adam Reinhart, a detachment of soldiers, and a handful of others were heading toward the National Mall.”

“Then let us hope that they made it there before our MIGs did,” Jacob replied. “And what of Lukas?”

“Our men managed to get him out of there before the building was bombed,” James replied. “He’s safe below ground now, though he’s definitely not happy with the night’s events.”

“Let the man fuss,” Jacob replied. “He’ll have his Imperium soon and much to do afterward. In the meantime, send word for our men on the ground to detain anyone trying to flee the city—civilian and military. Deploy every Yellow Jacket we have in close proximity to pursue those who have fled. I want you to grind them into the dirt. And keep an eye out for Adam Reinhart. Lukas may seem upset now, but he will be well beyond furious if we lose Adam.” Jacob turned to the woman on his left. “What’s the status at Reagan International?”

“Whoever had taken the terminal is dead or running,” Jamie replied. “They destroyed the militarized FODs we deployed, but not before we thinned their ranks and set fire to the airport. They’re scattering like roaches now.”

“Good,” Jacob replied. “Reroute the MIGs from JFK and program them to join the Yellow Jackets and target anyone leaving the city. Any word yet on just who was there trying to hack through the Graystone device?”

“No, sir. Whoever it was, they were good. I knew I couldn’t block them forever, so instead I waited for them to break through the firewalls. As soon as they did, I lifted the jamming signal and I sent out a shortwave pulse to all communication devices within a few hundred meters of the airport to disable their transmitters. They’ll think whatever they did failed to restore communications and, with a bit of luck, they’ll keep trying to fix a problem that doesn’t exist.”

“Very good,” Jacob said. “What of Fort Bragg, Jamie?”

“The bombers completed their run,” Jamie replied. “Our tanks have broken through and those who were defending the base are falling as we speak.”

“So Fort Bragg is destroyed, the battle for DC is won, and the East Coast annexation is underway. All without losing more than a handful of men at the Capitol Building.” Jacob finally broke his cool, letting his joy find its way to his face as he struck his hands together with one loud clap. “My friends, remember this night. Remember what a small group of devoted men and women can achieve from a distance.”

As those around the room began to smile triumphantly, a voice blared out over an emergency channel.

“Eagle Eye, this is agent Grimes; target located!” The rapid succession of muffled popping reverberated through the speakers like the wild clapping of rhythm-less percussionist.

“Grimes, this is Eagle Eye, have you found Adam Reinhart?”

“Eagle Eye, I say again. Target located! They’re in a blue truck on Indepe—”

A crackling bang followed by shrill static cut the agent off mid-sentence, causing Jacob to wince.

“Isolate their location!” Jacob shouted. “Where was he?”

“At the intersection of Independence and Fourth Street. Sir, I’m also tracking an inbound chopper.”

“Reroute one of the MIGs from the north,” Jacob roared. “Hit the helicopter first and circle around. If Lukas wants Adam Reinhart dead or alive, then let us not disappoint!”

Eric cried out in pain as his arm pulled free, a cloud of crimson billowing in the darkness. Sarah hauled him to the surface and he quickly gasped for air. She supported him as they made their way out of the vehicle and to the side of the pool.

Sarah helped Eric down beside Judi—the older woman finally conscious and clearly not liking that fact as she held her head and groaned. Sarah looked up to shout for Judah, but the words caught in her throat as her mind registered the hellish destruction that surrounded them.

Fire and devastation were everywhere. None of the other cars were in sight, though she figured no one would have stopped to help them if they had made it through that upsurge of rolling death. The bombs had stopped falling and the jet engines that preceded them now disappeared into the distant horizon. Battle still filled the air from the distant gates—hollow thuds compared to the booming thunder it had been earlier. She looked down at Eric as he held out his shaky arm. Blood flowed from the gash on his forearm, though with the darkness, she couldn’t tell if the veins had been sliced. Eric bent over to the side and retched, his bile splashing across the concrete and filling the broken cracks that now crisscrossed its surface.

“Rick, Elizabeth, I need something to stitch him up,” Sarah said quickly.

“The left pocket on my pant leg,” Eric said quietly. “Grab the silver pouch. Judah, you stand guard. Rick…hold me down.”

Sarah flipped open the pocket and pulled out a small, silver bandage with a thin pouch on one side and a blue tab on the other.

“You’ll need to wrap it on the cut as tightly as possible and pull the tab.”

“What does it do?” Sarah asked nervously.

“It’ll fill the cut with a chemical compound and three seconds later that compound will ignite. It’ll cauterize the wound and stop the bleeding.” He pulled himself up closer, looking her in the eyes. “You’re going to need to make it out of here on foot unless you can find another car. I might still have friends at Moody Air Force Base in Georgia. They will help you out if they’re still alive. Go there and don’t stop for more than a few hours until you’ve arrived.”

“Eric, I—”

“And trust no one on the road,” Eric cut in. “I gave your husband my word that I would protect you. If I stay awake, hit me with the adrenaline I have in my bag. But if I go unconscious, don’t wait for me.” He glanced over to the two young girls before leaning in close to Sarah. “You can’t afford to wait.”

Eric nodded his head as if convincing himself of his own words before lying back down, more composed than everyone else. Sarah wiped the blood off his wrist and removed what glass she could find, though more blood quickly oozed from the jagged cut. She wrapped the silver bandage tightly on the wound and pressed it hard against his skin, Eric wincing with pain as she did so. Sarah took a deep breath and mumbled a silent prayer, counting to three with tears in her eyes as she pulled the tab.

“Chopper Six, can you hear me?” Silence filled Gene’s earpiece and he bellowed a curse. “Damn it, Lev, I need my radio!”

“What the hell do you think I’m doing?” Lev moved his right hand around the air in front of him, frantically utilizing both his nVision display and a cracked tablet he had taken off a dead Russian—wielding both like a mad symphony conductor trying to decide which tool allowed him to control the chaos best.

Their massive stealth Humvee raced over the Potomac, passing the half ruined Jefferson Memorial. As the heavy thudding of the Blackhawk’s blades passed overhead, Gene’s radio blared out again.

“General, this is Chopper Six. I see you below but you’re not pinging back on radio. Don’t know if you’re getting this, but be advised: I just got off the horn with Captain Bond. He said he’s wounded and needs an EVAC. We’re heading to Fourth and Virginia for pickup.”

“Then that’s where we’re going,” Gene said, unsure if they heard him. “Marc, stay on the freeway and exit on Fourth.” Marc cut the steering wheel right and raced onto the off ramp as they passed under L’Enfant Plaza. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Fourth passes under the freeway,” Marc replied coolly. “There is no off-ramp there. I’ll take G Street and cut over.”

“So you’re now an expert on DC’s roads?”

“When years of training as a French Commando includes knowing the best possible routes to get state officials in and out of foreign cities, then I suppose—”

“Just get us there, Marc.”

They quickly passed by rows of old brick townhomes, Gene scanning the air for drones. They crossed the intersection at Seventh, swerving around two abandoned vehicles as Lev began shouting from the back cab.

“I’m tracking one fast moving bird coming in from the north. Comms are still dark. Can you see Chopper Six?”

Gene jumped into the back and threw open the turret well. He stood next to the massive Pulsar weapon mounted on the roof and peered into the darkness ahead, the freezing wind washing over his grim face as the night sky filled his vision. Gene could vaguely hear the helicopter as it hovered somewhere ahead to their left. He searched for the incoming plane—hoping it was one of his Raptors that had failed to show earlier—but the two-story homes to the left obstructed his view. He checked the charge on the mounted Pulsar weapon before ducking back into the cab.

“I can’t see—”

A fiery light followed shortly by a loud explosion echoed back and forth between the low brick buildings. The screeching of a MIG fighter jet passed overhead, banking wide. Gene fired the mounted weapon. The electrical arch traveled at least three thousand feet into the sky before dissipating into a sizzling dance of sparks. Gene cursed as he missed completely and quickly began to charge the weapon again. The jet completed its circle, kicking on the afterburners as it did so. It let loose another missile just as the Humvee veered left onto Fourth.

The missile struck the road far ahead and debris bounced around a low-lying overpass as the MIG drew closer. This time, Gene waited, taking aim and whispering one foul curse after another under his breath as the jet neared. He let loose a defiant roar and fired at the rapidly approaching plane. The concentrated arc of electricity—like a serrated bolt of lightning with electrical shoots branching off toward the heavens—enveloped the plane and the MIG’s afterburners behind it quickly shut off. The unmanned jet swayed briefly before tumbling lifelessly overhead, crashing into the buildings far out of sight to the right. Gene lowered back into the cab and looked forward as they rapidly approached the overpass.

“I’ve heard of that new weapon,” Marc said as he looked back at Gene, “but I’d never thought—”

Gene spotted a large shape just ahead in the tunnel—dark against the burning wreckage of the helicopter.

“Look out!”

Marc slammed on the brakes—the nose of the Humvee dipping down as Gene and Lev were thrown forward. The Humvee’s wide off-road tires shuddered underneath and Gene thought they were about to slam into whatever wreckage he had seen under the freeway. The tires finally seized the concrete below. They barely touched the dark heap in front of them as the Humvee came to a halt, throwing them all backwards this time. Gene immediately ripped the side door open, leaping out of the Humvee and onto the pavement.

Distant rumblings continued to sound off from the city like poorly tuned drums, though they had slowed in frequency as Gene cautiously approached the tunnel. He looked back at the Humvee as Marc and Lev exited, motioning for them to watch the road behind them. Gene ran over to the wreckage—a half destroyed blue truck—and fumbled with his flashlight in one hand and his side arm in the other. His flashlight failed to immediately light up and he smacked it a few times. When the tiny LED bulbs finally ignited, Gene kneeled down and peered into the cab.

Three men were strewn about inside the ruined truck. The man in the back stirred with a groan and the man in the passenger’s seat breathed slowly, his eyes closed. Gene ignored them momentarily as he leaned in and felt the pulse of the man who had been driving the truck—a man he hadn’t seen since leaving a cabin nestled in the Montana Mountains. A faint pulse beat against Gene’s finger, causing Gene to breathe again.

“My God,” Gene whispered as he looked back at the others and shouted. “They’re alive!”