The Dragons of Men (The Sons of Liberty Book 2) (51 page)

Nadia smiled, looking at each one of them as Alexandra spoke. When she finally finished, Nadia approached—sticking out her gloved hand to shake Sarah’s hand.

“I’m Nadia Andreou—mayor and guardian of those inside these walls, whether I like it or not. You have my thanks and you have my aid. Whatever we can spare, it’s yours until you leave. However, I do hope to talk you out of joining those traitors down south before you go. Any friend of Alex’s is most certainly a welcomed friend of mine.”

“Thank you,” Sarah replied. “We won’t be any trouble and we promise to leave when we’re no longer welcome.” Her eyes flickered over at Alexandra briefly, though Judah doubted anyone else noticed.

“We’ve heard things about Memphis,” Nadia began, her Greek accent clear on her voice. “More rumors than anything, really. Men like them are half the reason we closed our gates. Regardless, I pray you all made it through safely.”

Sarah’s eyes watered before she shook her head, glancing over at Alexandra. Nadia paused, shifting her gaze over to Alexandra before her eyes widened. “Did they….” Nadia began, unable to utter another word. She embraced her sister, crying again—the difference between a jubilant weeping and a tear-filled sorrow almost indiscernible to Judah. Nadia stepped back, looking over at Tyler.

“Get medical on the line,” she said softly. “Have them ready a single room in quarantine and make sure we’ve got some nurses and a physician there when we arrive.”

Tyler nodded his head, stepping away as he tapped his earpiece.

“She doesn’t need quarantined,” Sarah said. “She just needs—”

“Not just her,” Nadia said, glancing over. “Forgive me, but we’ll need to watch all of you for ten days in isolation before we can expose you to the others. I shouldn’t even be out here shaking your hands.”

“Why?” Eric said. “We’re not sick.”

“It’s just a precaution. We’ve heard of other towns losing half their population to the flu over the winter. It’s why we wear the masks and gloves at the walls.”

“I’m not going to argue about ten days in a bed,” Elizabeth said with a grin.

“It’s for the best and it’s better than you think. You get out of work and have time to yourselves. We have plenty of books, some movies so long as the solar generators are not acting up, and hot food. I’ll see to it that you are taken care of, fed well, and once you’re in the clear, we’ll have homes ready for you all. Come, we’ll take you there now.”

“Thank you,” Sarah said, glancing over at Judah. “Whatever happens, we owe you our lives.”

“Wait,” Eric said, just as Nadia started to turn away. He paused, turning to look down the road behind him before turning back to Nadia. “We’ve traveled a thousand miles since the night America died, fighting for our lives almost every step of the way. We’ve passed through burned out bases, dying trade posts, and vile cities—all while trying to survive the chaos of war. We’ve met the good, endured the bad, and lost friends along the way. We’ve seen a lot over the past few months, but there was one thing I hadn’t seen until today. The flag…why do you still fly it?”

Nadia glanced up at the flag—her eyes lingering on the swaying red, white, and blue before looking back at Eric.

“Because America isn’t dead.” Nadia stepped over, smiling as she shook his hand. “Welcome to Fort Harding.”

Judah smiled, looking from Nadia to his mother. He glanced over at Alexandra as they began walking through the open gate. He hoped Alexandra would be safe behind the high walls. He hoped she would be able to work past her anger and befriend him again one day. He hoped they wouldn’t have to leave. He hoped this refuge—this oasis called Fort Harding—could be everything they’d prayed for. He smiled, looking behind him at the flag flying atop the wall one more time as he realized what had just happened.

For the first time in a long time, Judah Reinhart felt hope.

The scent of wool, sweat, and dust was heavy in the air as Adam Reinhart peered through the checkered stitching of the black bag that was draped over his head. He tried to make out the details of the room he was in, but everything was hazy behind the veil. A table sat to his left; the glinting objects on top made him think of guns, tools of torture, or simply his nervous eyes playing tricks on him. To his right was a chain and the shape of another man dangling, though he couldn’t tell if it was Jack, Lev, Edward, or someone else. He hadn’t seen any of them after the man on the boat in Memphis wrapped a rag of chloroform around his mouth, and he wasn’t sure who else it was that they had pulled from the river. The days that had followed their capture had been full of hazy dreams in and out of drugged sleep. His stomach growled and he swallowed his spit, something surprisingly difficult with the gag that was pulled tight across his mouth. He was starving and confused, and he had no idea who had taken him.

Okay,
he thought, trying to calm himself.
Focus on what you do know.

Adam had no idea how long he had been in captivity. It had been at least a week, always veiled when he wasn’t questioned, beaten, or both. Edward and Jack had been present at times, though he hadn’t seen either for days. Every moment since their capture had been shrouded in darkness and ambiguity. He had heard the screams of strangers a few hours ago before being chained up, though most of the recent screams were those of a woman. Adam had no idea where he was. For all he knew, he could be back in DC…a terrifying thought.

The sound of metal scraping metal filled his ears and he tensed up. A loud bang, that of a rusty latch being thrown open, filled the tiny room. Adam raised his head, trying to peer through the bag and see who had come in as the door squeaked opened. He could see the moving shapes of three men enter the room, pausing before approaching him. He began to breathe heavily, his imagination wild with thoughts of torture to come. The man at the front reached forward, grabbing the bag atop Adam’s head, and pulled it free.

Adam almost shuddered with fear as an unknown man stared back at him. The man looked younger than Adam, though scars—some old and some new—crisscrossed his face. The man didn’t smile, nor did he frown. He simply studied Adam, like a rancher inspecting cattle.

“I’m not going to pretend to like what’s about to happen to you,” the man said. “I’m not sadistic, though some of the others can’t make that same claim. It’s probably why they put me in charge of this part of the operation. Regardless, orders are orders and a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.”

The man flipped open a knife and grabbed Adam by the jaw. Adam screamed through his gag and tried to pull away. Suddenly, the wind left Adam’s lungs and he gasped, realizing he had been hit as he inhaled bitter air through the foul cloth. The man grabbed Adam’s face again, lifting his head as he raised the knife to Adam’s face.

This is it,
Adam said, his eyes watering as he braced himself for pain and death.

The man paused before carefully sliding the knife between Adam’s cheek and the gag, jerking the blade once before the cloth fell to the ground.

“The cloth gets soaked with sweat and is damn near impossible to untie,” the man said casually as he stepped over to the table. “I’ve found whether I tell them what I’m doing or not, the new Recruits always struggle with a knife against their face. That’s a good thing. Don’t ever stop fighting. It’s the only way you’ll ever find death’s release.”

“Who are you?” Adam asked, flexing his jaw as though it were as rusty as the door hinges on the far end of the room. “Where am I?”

Another gasp on the other side of the room caused Adam to turn his head. As he did so, his heart nearly skipped a beat. He wasn’t alone.

“Jack!” Adam shouted. Jack turned his head, coughing as he gazed at Adam with grave eyes. He paused before grinning and nodding his head.

“Hey Adam,” Jack said, his eyes narrow with fatigue as he breathed heavily. He then glanced over at the man who had cut Adam’s bonds and spit defiantly. “You want to get me a stick of gum or something? That rag was gagging me and I can taste my own vomit.”

The man at the table smiled back before shaking his head.

“Who are you?” Adam asked as one of the men wiped the bile from Jack’s face.

“I’m Derrick Cree. You can think of me as a bastard, tormentor, or even a mean ol’ son of a bitch. However, I prefer you
call
me Sergeant. I prefer yes Sergeant or no Sergeant, but feel free to say whatever you want so long as you’re willing to deal with the consequences.”

“What consequences?” Adam asked.

“The consequences of disobeying the last nice guy you’ll see before you die,” Derrick replied. “Now that day might be far off, or it might be a few minutes away. That all depends on which one of you makes the right choice first.”

“The right choice?” Adam said. “What are you—”

“Don’t listen to him, Adam,” Jack said, spitting on the ground again. “He’s nothing more than a stray cat playing with its food before the kill.”

The man smiled, chuckling as he reached behind him and began surveying the table. Adam’s eyes flickered down to the wooden surface, surveying the glinting objects for the first time. Hammers, knives, a machete, two crowbars, and an assortment of metallic objects littered a long roll of fabric. Derrick ran his hands over each item as though he were studying its true meaning. Eventually, he grabbed a ten-inch plier, tossed it onto the floor, and began rolling the other items up. He pulled two small covers over each end and secured the roll with three buckles, stepping forward and handing the pack to one of the other men.

“What are you doing?” Adam asked.

“I’m doing what I have to,” Derrick replied as he removed a Taser from his belt. “Now here’s what’s going to happen. We are going to hurt you in twelve hours. Both of you. I’m sorry for that, but this only needs to go on for as long as you make it.”

“What are you talking about?” Adam asked, tensing as he looked down at the black Taser. “Who the hell are you?”

“Like I said, I’m your Sergeant. We need an army. Luckily for you, our typical means of growing that army have been stalled for the time being. That means you don’t have to endure the living hell I had to when I first became a Recruit. Still, we need a certain…caliber of man, with or without the drugs. Insanity and a desire to seek death is what best cultivates that type of man, so without our synthetic persuasions, we’ve had to resort to other methods. Besides, this has become somewhat of a tradition, so it seems. No need for cowards. We only need the mad and vicious.”

“What are you going to do?” Adam asked.

“I’m going to come in here once every twelve hours and electrocute you both—pushing your bodies and minds to the brink of madness. It won’t kill you, but it’s going to hurt. It will hurt very badly. You’re going to cry when you hear that latch slide back. You’re going to beg us to stop. You’ll scream and howl and pray to God for deliverance, as so many others have. But I want you to know that God’s not here. He won’t save you, just like your friends who shot up our men on that bridge nine days ago won’t save you. This city is locked down tight and no one comes in or goes out without us knowing. Now this is all going to go on for as long as you let it. Though we’d like to have each of you—being that you both have the look of death in your eyes—the Patriarchs have many soldiers and currently demand quality over quantity.”

“Patriarchs?” Adam asked, his eyes widening. “You’re…you’re one of the Patriarchs?”

“Six months ago, I would have gone to my grave defending America’s shores from the Patriarchs,” Derrick replied. “I was one of those few who actually fought back against them. I suppose they don’t even mind knowing I still hate them with every fiber in my body. Nevertheless, it doesn’t matter what I think. They know I’ll do whatever they want so long as I’m under their spell. Right now, they want me to help build their army and charge the fray without fear. My guess is you’ll be no different in a few weeks.”

“Whatever the hell you say,” Jack said. “Just kill me and get it over with. Let him go.”

“What are you talking about?” Adam asked, looking over at Jack confused. “Jack, don’t—”

“That would defeat the purpose, wouldn’t it?” Derrick replied. “You see, we’ve got nearly eleven thousand right now ready to charge hell with a water gun at the push of a button. I know this because I’m one of them. But we need more than that. We need to filter through the other six thousand who don’t have the drug in their system—men and women just like you two. We need to separate the weak from the strong before battle. You’re going to cross a river for us and soften up the troops on the other side. If you survive this room, you’ll likely die in that battle and be free. But if you can make it through and endure till the end, maybe you’ll end up like me. Maybe life won’t be so bad as long as you do everything you’re told before they can activate the hell that will soon run through your veins.”

“I don’t get it,” Adam said. “Where are we? Who are you attacking?”

Derrick glanced to Jack, smiling before shaking his head. “My money is on you,” Derrick replied, approaching Adam and reaching overhead before he unfastened his chains. Adam slumped to the ground, his legs weak with the sudden weight. One of the men on the other side of the room did the same thing to Jack, though Jack was able to catch himself. “Granted, I didn’t think that wormy friend of yours would have lasted a day in the room with a stranger. He didn’t even wait for our first visit. As soon as he hit the floor after we unchained him, he crawled over, grabbed the ball-peen hammer we gave them, and did what he had to do. Saved us a lot of time.”