Last Stand: Patriots (Book 2) (21 page)

With the Chairman’s men
either dead or in custody, John, Diane and Brandon set off at once to find the kids. After checking the apartment and finding it empty, they headed for the prison. There were still people in the cells, many of them cowering, wondering what was going on out there with all that gunfire. Several wept when John had the guard release them.

He and Diane searched through the thin faces, not seeing Emma, Gregory, Natalie or Kay among them.

Then someone heard voices coming from one of the first-floor offices that had been set up as interrogation rooms. The door was locked and John kicked it open to find Kay and the kids, clutching each other.

“Oh, thank God,” Kay said, as thick tears streamed down her face. “I was sure they were coming to kill us all.”

Emma and Gregory ran into John’s arms.

“We thought you were dead,” Gregory told him.

“I knew you weren’t,” Emma replied with typical sibling rivalry.

It looked like some things never got old.

“You have no idea how much I missed you,” John told them. “I prayed quietly every day that you’d be kept safe.”

“
Did you pray for me too?” Diane asked. “I’m feeling a little like chopped liver over here.”

John laughed, stuffed a hand into his pocket and produced the silver necklace with the sapphire heart.

Diane’s jaw dropped. “Where did you find it?”

“Near the cabins. When the fear that I’d never see you again got too strong, this was what kept me going.” He put it around her neck and pulled her into a kiss.

For his part, Brandon helped Kay off the floor, looking shocked and disturbed by the bruises on her face.

“Who did this to you?” he asked angrily.

She squeezed him tight. “Don’t worry about that.”

“Not anymore,” Diane said
next them. “The man who did this can’t hurt anyone else.”

Then Brandon and Emma exchanged a look.

“You miss me?” Emma asked sheepishly.

He gave her a hug. “You have no idea
.”

“You’re not blushing,”
Emma observed, studying his face. “You always blush when we hug.”

“A lot’s happened since you’ve been gone,” John said.

Emma clutched her belly. “I’m starving. Is there anything to eat?”

John and Brandon exchanged a glance.

“I’ve got just the thing,” Brandon said, grinning.

•••

The next few hours were spent caring for the wounded on both sides. Another group was tasked with burying the dead.
What a waste of life,
John thought as he walked among them, helping to sort the more serious cases. He’d seen a similar scene played out back in Knoxville, but then it had been good guys versus the scum of the earth. Here it was more a case of the good guys versus innocent folks who’d been deceived and misled.

Among the dead was one body which
looked familiar. Thin and underfed, high cheekbones. But it wasn’t until John turned him over that he knew for sure it was Gary. He’d taken a shot through the neck that severed his spinal cord. He had probably been dead before he hit the ground.

Moss appeared by his side, looking like the weight of seeing all this death was taking a toll on him. That was one of the unknowns of combat
: how a man would deal with seeing friends, family and brothers in arms lying motionless before you.

“Did you check on Rodriguez?” John asked.

“Yeah, he’s fine. Cranky as ever, but fine.”

“
Good,” John said, eyeing a long-haired man with black cargo pants. “What did Marshall have to say?”

Moss shook his head, like he didn’t want to
speak.

“
Was he wounded?”

“No. Dead.”

Their eyes met and John put a hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s why the offensive turned into a rout. Once news spread that
Marshall had taken a bullet, people got scared, lost the will to fight.”

“I’ve seen it happen, even to professional soldiers,” John told him. “Losing a commander is often like losing a parent.”

Moss looked up and John knew that was exactly how he felt. Marshall had been like a father to him.

“I remember he wanted nothing more than to see his wife and child receive a proper burial,” John mentioned. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to be laid next to them.”

Moss nodded, his hands folded behind his back.

Glancing over, John couldn’t help but notice the concern on Moss’ face.
“As his second-in-command, I guess that makes you leader of the Patriots now,” John said.

Moss offered him one final glance, but didn’t say a word.

“Don’t worry, you’ll do fine,” John was telling Moss the next day as he went over his speech. Moss was getting ready to address the townspeople of Oneida. As head of the Patriots it only made sense that he also lead the town.

“Do I look nervous?” he asked.

John smiled. “Apart from your green complexion, not really. Listen, the point you wanna get across is that we’re at war, but the US Constitution is still very much in effect and everyone will need to do his or her part in the coming days to ensure we’re not speaking a foreign language by the end of the week.”

“Okay,” Moss said. “I’m ready.”

The two exited the Mayor’s Office to the sound of rapturous applause. Close to two thousand people were standing before them. They represented the remaining residents of Oneida along with the Patriots who’d made it through the battle.

Moss spoke for a few moments, his voice cracking once or twice from the nerves which still hadn’t settled. Eventually, he mentioned that an election would take place shortly for a new mayor.

That was when someone from the crowd spoke up. “We’ve already conducted a vote,” the man said. “It was rather impromptu, but the tally was overwhelming.”

Both men were stunned into silence.

“With seventy-five percent of the vote, we’ve elected John Mack our new mayor.”

John’s eyes grew wide. Publishers Clearing
House could have emerged from the woods, handed him an oversized check and he would have been less surprised.

“But I wasn’t running,” he told them.
They’d seen the Chairman’s dramatic takedown and were attributing all the glory to him. Reese had been the one to take the shot and none of this would have been possible if the Patriots hadn’t launched that costly diversionary attack in the first place. John put his hands up, palms out. “I’m flattered by your vote of confidence, really I am, but I’m not the man for this. I have land and a cabin to—”

The crowd started
to chant his name and John waved his arms to make them stop. This was becoming too much.

Next to him, Moss threw him an awkward smile.
“Maybe I should call you Garth Brooks from now on.”

A hand touched John’s elbow. He glanced over to see Diane. “Do I need to remind you that b
oth cabins are ash heaps, honey? These people need someone they can believe in. Someone they can trust.”

“Yes, but Willow Creek,” he started to say, before
she put a finger over his lips.

“The past doesn’t equal the future,” she replied. “You’re the one who told me that
, remember?”

“
I did?”

“Y
es, and you can do this. Your country needs you. They need you.”

And with that John begrudgingly accepted his nomination as mayor of
Oneida. He spent the next few minutes in stunned disbelief, shaking people’s hands and issuing a series of orders.

It was at about that time that the young man who had replaced Rodriguez showed up. His name was
Henry Chamberlain and apparently he knew a thing or two about working a radio.

“I’m sorry to disturb you
, Mr. Mayor.”

“What is it,
Henry?”

“I just heard from Col
onel Higgs. He wanted to let us know that the Russians, Chinese and North Koreans have started their attack along the Mississippi.”

The news nearly made him flinch.
“That’s about six or seven hours’ drive from here,” John said pensively.

“Affirmative
, sir.”

“Then let’s hope that
line holds,” he said, feeling that old knot working through his guts again.

“And if it doesn’t
, sir?” Henry asked.

“If it doesn’t, then
God help us all.”

Thank you for reading

Last Stand: Patriots
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