The Dragons of Men (The Sons of Liberty Book 2) (66 page)

Maria Brekor quickly navigated the White House halls, breathing deeply through her silky façade in an effort to calm her nerves as she looked upon her prison for the very last time.

Almost free.

She descended a lengthy set of stairs, passing through the sprawling structure of luxury and power—a home she had come to hate. Maria glanced to her left and then to her right, saying silent goodbyes to the paintings and sculptures she had known for years.

She left the grand corridors behind her and opened an unguarded steel door before approaching three Sovereign Guards in the motorcade garage. The three men had been lounging at their posts, talking casually about the things men love to ponder. When one of them set eyes on her, he quickly leapt to his feet, failing to mask his surprise. The others glanced her way and repeated his actions.

“Forgive us, Ms. Brekor,” the guard began. “We were not expecting you.”

“I am sure,” Maria replied as casually as possible. “I’d like to take a drive.”

The guard stared back at her questioningly, his eyes narrowing. “A drive, my lady?”

“Yes, a drive,” she said, planting her hand on her hip with false irritation. “The sun is out, the weather is fine, and my husband battles the bane of his existence below. A fine day, I must say.”

“Certainly,” the guard replied cordially with a bow. “Let me just—”

“Please, do not bother my husband. I do not think he would want to be interrupted on the day he wins his war.”

The guards glanced at each other with apparent confusion.

“Win, my lady?”

“You do not know?” Maria said, forcing a coy laugh as she inwardly rejoiced at her successful deployment of bait. “So much for transparency. We have attacked New Orleans and will have Sigmund within the hour. Regardless, I care not to stay here and watch another city of men and women perish. I personally give you leave to celebrate with jubilation and merry-making tonight. For now, you will drive me where I please.”

“Certainly,” the guard replied, turning to the man next to him and quickly sending him off to ready for their departure. “Is there anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”

Maria paused, suppressing the urge to weep as her freedom drew closer.

“I have always longed to quietly walk the riverfront at mid-day,” she replied, smiling as she approached the guard and laid her hand on his shoulder. “Perhaps the Potomac Park, since Mr. Rosenbaum closed it to the public for renovations.”

“Excellent choice, my lady,” the guard replied with a smile as the other man returned with four more agents. “If you’ll follow me.”

Maria nodded her head and smiled as they entered the garage. Maria breathed deeply, clutching her purse tightly—dwelling on its hidden contents as she stifled the urge to rejoice.
You’re not there yet,
she thought as she entered the vehicle.
You must be cunning and strong until the end.

Adam failed to hold back a curse as he fidgeted anxiously on the road. He had pleaded with the guard again and again, but every word he said had been met with a stern refusal to listen to anything Adam had to say until a man named Tyler arrived. Adam glanced behind him for the hundredth time, waiting for the moment his eyes were met with the arrival of battle.

Maybe they’re right,
Adam thought, shaking his head.
Maybe the Patriarchs aren’t coming.

As much as he tried to hope for that outcome, he knew it was unlikely. If Tyler wasn’t there soon, they’d likely be facing an endless mob of fanatics ready to raze Fort Harding to the ground.

The two trucks blocking the right gate rumbled to life and pulled to the side, quickly bringing Adam’s attention back toward the wall. A steel gate rose slowly behind the trucks and out walked a masked man flanked by a dozen armed guards. They approached with their guns up and halted ten feet away from him.

“Are you Tyler?” Adam asked impatiently, not waiting for the other man to speak.

The man at the front nodded his head. “Who are you?”

“My name is Adam Reinhart,” Adam replied as calmly as he could. Still, he shook with anxiety. He might as well have been pleading with hesitant sailors to board their ship as ravenous Great Whites circled beneath him. “I’ve been held prisoner in Little Rock. We managed to escape and came here to warn you that thousands are coming. They will not stop to negotiate. They will hit this base with everything they have. You need to get every man armed and ready to fight.”

The man paused, his eyes scanning Adam as though he were weighing and measuring a strange dog.

“What’s your real name?” Tyler finally asked.

“Damn it, we don’t have time for games!” Adam shouted, earning him the racking of a shotgun that was trained on his chest. He held up his hands again, muttering a curse as he took a step backward. “Like I said, my name is Adam Reinhart. I’m the congressman who almost stopped Lukas last year. This man is Marc L’ecuyer. He was a French Commando and has fought beside me since the Battle of DC. We need to—”

The man at the front held up a hand, cutting Adam off mid-sentence.

“Adam Reinhart died in DC,” Tyler said. “You may resemble Adam Reinhart, but we both know the truth. Like you said, now’s not the time for games. I’m sorry, but no man pretending to be him is welcome here. I appreciate your…enthusiasm, but we are more than capable of defending ourselves from a few brigands. I suggest you and your
French Commando
turn around and leave.”

“Please!” Adam shouted. “You have to believe me! I am Adam Reinhart. I was captured by the Patriarchs two weeks ago. I had a chance to join Texas when I escaped, but I heard about this place and the Patriarch’s plan to destroy it. I won’t…no, I
can’t
abandon the last Americans.”

Tyler looked sideways at his men before lowering his head and mumbling to himself. After a few seconds, Tyler raised his gaze back to Adam—a fierce resolve in his eyes.

“I remember hearing once that Congressman Adam Reinhart had a family,” Tyler said, stepping forward. “Where are they now?”

Adam paused, subduing the urge to shout again in frustration. He took a deep breath before proceeding. “I don’t know. I was told four months ago that they were dead—killed when Fort Bragg was destroyed, but there was a soldier I knew with them in Fort Bragg and I heard a rumor he might have survived. If so…I don’t want to hope against reason, but they might have as well.” Adam stepped forward, lowering his hands as he began to plead. “Please, I’ll be happy to share everything with you one day. Right now, you have to ready your men for war!”

“The soldier that was with them,” Tyler began, the ferocity in his voice dissipating as he stepped forward. “Did he have a name?”

“Eric Corsa,” Adam replied.

Tyler’s gaze widened ever-so-slightly as he quietly regarded Adam. Seconds passed with nothing, Tyler’s eyes glazing over with clear shock. Finally, Tyler mumbled something inaudible before turning to a man next to him.

“Activate the master alarm! Radio Eric. Tell him to find Sarah Reinhart and—”

Adam mumbled incoherently as an assortment of emotions slammed into him like a wrecking ball. He stumbled forward, near the point of passing out with shock.

“They’re here?”

“Your family is here, Mr. Reinhart,” Tyler replied, smiling as he reached out to steady Adam. “They arrived a couple of weeks ago with a handful of others. My wife is the governor of Fort Harding and we helped them out when they first arrived. If you’ll come with me, I can—”

“Sir!” a guard on the wall shouted. “Radio is down. We can’t reach anyone.”

“Try another frequency,” Tyler replied quickly.

“We already scanned all channels,” the guard replied. “We’ve got nothing.”

“Forget about it for now,” Tyler replied as all the guards began to tense. “Activate the defense sirens and—”

“Movement on the road!” another guard cried out from atop the wall. “Two trucks incoming. Two miles out and closing fast.”

“Damn it!” Tyler growled, circling his hand in the air and motioning to the wall. “Everyone on the wall! I want that siren up now!”

Adam and Marc ran beside Tyler, crossing the pavement quickly before passing under the gate. Once they were through, the gate lowered and two dually pickups moved forward to block off the entrance—the drivers quickly exiting and climbing ladders that had been lowered for them. Adam followed Tyler up a flight of makeshift stairs that had been built against the back of the wall, his mind racing with hope and fear as they mounted the steel containers.

“I have three kids,” Adam said, his eyes darting back and forth between Tyler and the road. “They were all together with my parents at Fort Bragg. Did they all make it?”

“There are two little girls, Grace and Eva, and two teenagers named Judah and Alexandra,” Tyler replied as he raised a set of binoculars to his eyes. “There was an older lady named Elizabeth and a younger man named Trey, but that’s all I know.”

Adam muttered a prayer of thanks as his legs nearly gave out, fighting back tears as he shifted his eyes to the road, a hundred thoughts racing through his mind.
Where are mom and dad? Who is Alexandra? Where have they been? My God, they’re here!
He shoved the growing list of questions out of his mind for the moment, focusing on the two dump trucks that raced toward them on each side of the highway.

“What are they hitting us with?” Tyler asked as the sirens—courtesy of old police cruisers—finally began to whine behind them.

“All I know is they had dozens of semi-trucks they were packing full of people,” Adam replied.

“Any idea how many?”

“Thousands,” Adam said. “Somewhere around twelve thousand if they send everyone.”

“Twelve thousand?” Tyler muttered, his eyes wide with alarm.

“They’re civilians used against their will by a drug,” Adam said quickly. “They’re only armed with knives and hand tools.”

“Surely they won’t charge gun fire,” Tyler said, looking over at Adam as the trucks rumbled forward without slowing, now only a mile away. Thick steel plates covered the two trucks, each with an angular metal wedge on the front like a massive snowplow.

“You’re wrong,” Adam said, glancing over at Tyler. “I don’t know what the hell they’ve juiced them with, but those men and women will storm this base and fight to the death.”

Tyler slowly pulled his gaze away from Adam and began shouting at his men.

“Snipers at the ready!” he shouted. “Aim for the tires when they’re close. Hit them when—”

The loud cry of engines howled across the road as twelve motorcycles that had been hidden behind the trucks raced around them, screaming toward the blockade.

“Fire!” Tyler shouted as his men unleashed a deadly volley. Two of the riders fell, skirting across the pavement before violently exploding, causing Adam and every other man on the wall to jump with shock. The explosions took out three other bikes, causing a chain reaction of three more air-displacing detonations that shook the ground. The seven remaining bikes screamed forward, swerving as sniper fire struck the pavement around them.

“Get off the wall!” Tyler shouted, grabbing Adam as he turned and bolted for the edge. They leapt from the top of the steel container, arms flailing through the air as they plunged toward the bed of a pickup truck below. Adam slammed into the bed just as a single deafening blast thundered from behind the blockade. The ground shook and Adam looked back at the barricade just as the roar of the six remaining suicide bombers struck. The steel containers creaked and trembled as fire balls quickly rose in the air. The few men remaining atop the wall were flung backward—human torches cast through the air like fiery rag dolls.

Tyler opened his mouth to shout and the two armored dump trucks plowed through the gates, parting the battered wall with ease as their momentum continued to carry them onward. The container closest to Adam struck the truck they had jumped into, flinging him around the bed and sending the truck skidding toward the side of the highway. Adam quickly sat up as the pickup jerked to a stop, looking up as both dump trucks began to accelerate again—a lengthy convoy of twenty semi-trucks and at least as many motorcycles following closely behind. The final four tractor-trailers slammed on their brakes and swerved to the sides, tipping on the verge of collapse before coming to a jolting halt.

A ringing hum intermixed with the roar of fire and the cries of the injured filled the air. Adam raised his head slowly, peering at the four semi-trucks as they sat quietly thirty feet away.

“Everyone on your feet!” Tyler shouted as he leapt from the bed. Blood plastered his brown hair against his temple, slowly descending down his right cheek. He turned to Adam, grimacing as he tossed him an assault rifle. “I’ll drive! We’ve got to get back to base right away. You two get in the—”

The ghastly screams of terrified men and women resonated through the air. A few moments later, the back gates on the trailers were thrown open, followed quickly by a bloodthirsty horde of three hundred horrified fiends running straight for the surviving Americans. A wave of overwhelming shock surged through Adam, immobilizing him as he watched the mindless mass of terror approach. It was a momentary hesitation—a brief pause to stand in awe of the ferocity that sprinted toward him before Tyler’s voice broke through his catatonic daze.