The Crimson Fall (The Sons of Liberty Book 1) (37 page)

“Tyler,” she said with a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

“You okay?” he asked.

“Just thinking about the past,” Nadia said. “What do you need?”

“I just got word from one of the teams on watch. They said it looks like the military is rolling down Race Street and heading our way.”

“How many?” she asked quickly.

“Don’t know for sure. They said they saw a column of armored cars and Humvees.”

“What are you thinking?” Nadia asked.

Tyler stood there quietly for a moment, looking off to the side and squinting as he bit his lower lip. Finally, he looked back at her. “I’m thinking I could use a break. We all could. I hope they’re here to help. But if not . . . well, we’re as ready as we can be.”

“Agreed,” Nadia said. “Let’s go.”

As she turned to walk, Tyler stopped her; he took her by the shoulders gently so that he could look at her eye to eye. “I don’t think you hear this enough, but thank you. I don’t know where any of us would be without you.”

“I know, Tyler.” Nadia nodded her head.

“I don’t think you really do know, Nadia. You’ve saved a lot of lives, and I’ve just got to tell you that no matter what happens, no matter how we all turn out, we’ve made it this far because of you.” He paused—smiling again in a more affectionate way—before continuing. “I, for one, am happy you’re still here.”

“Thank you,” she said with a beam that held much more joy than the one from before.

“I’ll run and alert the others by the blockade,” Tyler said. “If you want to run upstairs and get a look at those vehicles, then you better do it now. They will be here soon enough.” He turned and went out the glass doors that led to the front lawn.

The front lawn had once been a large grassy area about the size of a soccer field that students had enjoyed picnic lunches and games of Frisbee on for over a hundred years. Now, it served the students in other, more important reasons. Row upon row of winter wheat had already begun to grow there. In the spring they would cut down the wheat—which served primarily as a cover crop to protect the soil against erosion—and begin planting other vegetables. Many of the students had been raised in farming families before they came to Harding, and their combined knowledge of agriculture had allowed them to be somewhat proactive about the food shortage. What knowledge they lacked was made up by the massive library housed within their rudimentary walls. They had immediately gathered what food they could in the beginning, taking inventory and guarding their growing supply. They began smaller gardens on the rooftops of the campus buildings in an effort to add to their stockpile before winter’s bite set in. Nadia was thankful for their help and believed that they had saved themselves, more than any advice she had offered. She just simply pointed out what needed to be done, not how to do it all. Nadia had hoped and started to believe that they would be better off than most, assuming the lack of electricity and present state of the United States persisted for any amount of time.

At least she prayed that they would.

As Nadia turned to walk up the polished wood staircase beside her, she couldn’t help but feel slightly hopeful again. They had not heard much of any news from the outside world since the grid went dark. She had been thankful that the warm and conservative south—other than a few cities like Atlanta, Memphis, and Nashville—had remained calm for the most part. But all that changed about a month ago when the power plant over central Arkansas blew
—
sending much of the state, including Little Rock, into the shadows. She had heard that the National Guard had been deployed to the worst of the cities, and surprisingly, Little Rock had been one of them. The fact that a unit was approaching Searcy might mean that things had calmed down and they were simply spreading the word to the rest of the state until the power returned. She even hoped that they might be coming there to get the campus’ electricity back up and running again before wintertime. She knew all of that was wishful thinking, but she hoped nonetheless.

As Nadia climbed to the third floor of the building that served as their headquarters, for lack of a better term, she could see the armored vehicles pulling to a stop behind one of the blockades. A moment later, Tyler was trotting up the stairs behind her, out of breath but nodding to her that the teams who had been sleeping had been roused and told to get into their positions. They both looked out the window as a uniformed man exited the front vehicle slowly, nearly falling out. He gripped his left arm with his right hand—pain clearly on his face and dried blood covering half of his vest. All of Nadia’s hope dissolved as soon as the man shouted for help. She knew then that things were not going to get better anytime soon.

In fact, she knew right then that they were bound to get worse.

Tyler and Nadia ran back down the stairs, yelling for someone to fetch the nursing students immediately. Nadia told her armed guards to move the wooden bookcases and furniture and let her outside. After a few seconds of grunting and pushing, they opened the door, and both Nadia and Tyler raced outside toward the wounded soldier. As they reached the bleeding man, a first lieutenant from Little Rock, he began explaining what happened through his constant winces of pain.

“They’re gone,” the man said. “It’s all gone.”

“It’s okay, sir, you’re safe now,” Nadia reassured him. “You’re going to be just fine.”

“Chaos,” the man said. “It’s a warzone down there.”

“What happened?” Tyler asked.

“We arrived a few weeks ago. Things were getting bad, but we thought it would recover once the power was back. Food started rotting fast when the backup generators stopped powering the stores. Whoever or whatever blew the plant did a good enough job. The power is gone and it ain’t coming back. After the food was completely gone, it was nothing but anarchy.”

Nadia and Tyler exchanged nervous glances as the man paused to catch his breath. Nadia grabbed her water bottle and gave the wounded man a drink. He coughed up almost as much water as he kept down, and when he was finished he continued on.

“Some grunt, from the Hot Springs unit, got trigger happy and popped a round off into an angry crowd. They were supposedly protesting peacefully, but it’s not like we could tell the difference when they’re shouting and carrying guns. After that, all hell broke loose. The city erupted, attacking everyone in a uniform with no mercy. I don’t know if any of the other units made it out.” The man looked around at his banged up unit and then back at Nadia. “I guess we were the lucky ones.”

The first lieutenant paused as a nursing student approached him and removed his hand to inspect his arm. “Looks broken,” she said bluntly. “You might lose it, but we’ll do what we can. Let’s get you inside. Are others injured badly?”

“Some,” the soldier replied. “We were able to escape before we were overrun like the others. On our way north, we were ambushed by a group of local police. They approached us in uniform and all, acting like they were friendly, but they drew on us as soon as we stopped. They demanded we hand over our weapons and ammo, and I decided to comply. Just not in the way they had hoped.” The man smirked slightly and then winced with pain. “Even with automatic fire roaring into them they gave us a good lick. We lost eight, have twenty-seven wounded, but we have another forty-two ready and able. We heard rumors about this place. They said some university up north off of route sixty-seven was set up well and fixing to make a stand against anyone who tried to start a fight. You patch us up and we’ll help you out in whatever way we can.”

“You know we will,” Nadia said. “You’re safe now.”

A number of nursing students had exited the building and were assisting the wounded. A handful of the young men on the rooftops stood up, lowering their hunting rifles as they likely thought any danger had passed. Nadia made a mental note to have Tyler scold them over that. She knew just because danger didn’t flaunt itself openly didn’t mean it wasn’t still there—hiding and waiting for them to let their guard down. As Nadia and Tyler each took an arm and assisted the injured soldier toward the Admin Building, the soldier stopped and looked into Nadia’s eyes.

“We’re not just here for the help,” the man said. “We came here to warn you. You might have a horde coming any day now, and they’re scared, dangerous, and looking for what you’ve got. My guess is we have a few days. A week at the most. Food is scarce down there, and people are growing desperate. If they were bold enough to attack us in tanks, they won’t think twice about the idea of trying to take this place.”

Nadia laid her hand on the first lieutenant’s shoulder, trying to comfort him. While she was heartbroken for what they had gone through, she was also rejoicing to have his help. Before their arrival their tiny haven had consisted of a rag-tag group of untrained students and locals that were armed with nothing more than bolt action rifles, shotguns, and a handful of semi-automatic carbines. Now, she had the help of trained soldiers and their armored vehicles built for war. She knew people would have eventually tried to take what they had built, but she had no intentions of handing over the keys to their sanctuary without a fight.

“It’s okay,” Nadia said as reassuring as she could. “When they get here, we’ll be ready.”

Fort Bragg, North Carolina

Day Ninety-Nine

Lieutenant General Jackson Hewitt stood behind his simple laminate desk at the back of his large windowed office. He looked outside and watched as the Honor Guard played the National Anthem for what would be, as he sadly knew, the very last time.

He watched as the American flag, along with every other flag flying high at the base, was lowered and pulled from its long-standing service. He looked to his left, where another American flag hung from a wooden pole next to him, and frowned.
Where will we put them all?
Still, he wanted to honor this moment as much as possible, and he continued to watch as the flag outside was lowered by the troops. After the anthem was finished, he gathered up his hat under his right arm, walked to the open door, and began down the long hallway with as much dignity as he could muster.

Dozens of troops lined the path he would take as he exited the command headquarters. The general stopped, and as one they saluted. As a veteran of Afghanistan, Iraq, and Iran, the general had become a hard man, never letting emotion find a home on his face. However, as he stood there briefly—looking at the men before him that were about to give up so much—he hoped that he could fight back the tears that were on the verge of clouding his vision on that chilly winter day.

He walked the quarter of a mile to the platform that had been prepared the night before. His men had been briefed, and they knew the decision that he had made. Thankfully, almost no one had taken the voluntary leave that he offered. The general crossed Knox Street and walked onto the green where the platform was waiting. He mounted the stairs and stood behind the podium before turning to the man that stood next to him.

“Is it ready?” the general asked.

“Yes sir,” the man replied. “If there is power to any screen in the United States, it will have the picture and subtitles. Any device with audio will hear your words. The guys in IT assured me we’ll break through any current broadcasts. There will be a slight delay, though. The signal needs to be rerouted out of the blue zone through a hard line. We’ll send it to Offutt, and they’ll do the rest. You give the nod, and we’ll be live on air, General.”

“Good,” the general said. “No use in sitting around and avoiding what needs to be done. Let us begin.” He walked over to the podium, flipped on the mic, and nodded to the man.

General Jackson Hewitt, a man who had loved his country before he first enlisted as not much more than a grown boy, waited half a minute or so when the red lights beneath the cameras lit up. He wanted to make sure that any who were listening or watching gave their full attention when he began. Finally, he cleared his throat and began his short, historic speech.

“My fellow Americans, it is with great sadness that I stand before you—a broken nation by no fault of your own. I’m not a man of many words and I promise to make this brief. As much as it pains me to do what I must do, I can no longer afford to prolong what needs to be done. Therefore, I am forced to announce that I, Lieutenant General Jackson Hewitt, commanding officer of Fort Bragg and its thirty thousand troops, hereby declare our independence from the United States of America. Effective immediately, we will no longer recognize and subject ourselves to the authority of those who have corrupted this land. Until Lukas Chambers steps down or is removed from office, we will remain a self-governing military base removed completely from the United States government. I ask that Congress, the Senate, and every American left standing after these deadly days to do what you can to remove that . . . vile man from office. Until then, any efforts to negotiate our return will be immediately refused. Should any United States Armed Forces attempt to attack or retake this base, know that you will be met with the fiercest counter actions, dealt by the resident Army Rangers, Special Forces, and the other military installations across this land that will soon follow our lead. Thank you, and. . . .”

Jackson stalled. He had given many speeches over the many years of his career and had always ended them with ‘God Bless the United States of America.’ He hadn’t realized until that moment that he had no idea how he was going to end his declaration of secession.