The Dragons of Men (The Sons of Liberty Book 2) (75 page)

Eric Corsa studied his black medallion absentmindedly, rubbing his thumb across its smooth surface as he daydreamed about Sarah—the woman he loved.

The woman he had lost to the man he had thought dead.

He smiled as he thought back to the night Sarah had given him the round pendant. It had been the first moment he had felt something for her, other than an obligation of protection. In the beginning, he had gone about his duty and held his growing feelings for Sarah at bay out of respect for the memory of his fallen friend. Now, at the end of a dangerous road and the beginning of an uncertain future, Eric couldn’t help but wonder if the inner struggle to face the consequences of his actions would overshadow the battles that lay behind him.

A knock at the door brought his attention back to the present.

“Come in.”

The door opened, and in walked Sarah. Eric lowered the medallion and slowly sat up with surprise, smiling as she entered. She paused once inside the room, an uncertain smile touching her lips, before turning to close the door behind her.

“I was just thinking about you,” Eric said.

Sarah continued to beam, though the only other acknowledgment she gave was a slight nod of her head.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten about me,” Eric said.

“You know that’s not true.” Sarah walked over, stopping just short of the bedside—just out of reach. She gazed down at him, the struggle to contain her emotions clear and unhidden on her face. Tears slowly beaded in her eyes and she glanced behind her, grabbing an old chair and pulling it up next to his bed. “How do you feel?”

“Alright,” he lied. The reality was that Eric now lived in constant pain—both physical and emotional. The concussion from the blast that destroyed the gate had given him a throbbing headache that had taken days to dissolve into a dull numbness. It had been one more injury to compound upon months of hunger, hard travel, and stress. Despite being a battle-forged soldier, his body had finally succumbed to a desperate need for recuperation. Eric had slept the three days that followed the battle of Fort Harding, awakening only to have what he had thought to be feverish dreams confirmed.

Sarah and her children had survived, the final remnant of America had emerged victorious, Adam Reinhart lived, and Eric had never felt so lifeless inside.

“I guess the real question is how are you doing?” Eric asked.

Sarah stared back at him, smiling as the tear beading in her eyes finally broke free. She used her sleeve to wipe it from her cheek, taking a deep breath.

“I am a joyful, terrible, and confused mess of a woman,” Sarah replied.

“Don’t forget beautiful,” Eric said quickly. “How are those girls of yours?”

“They’re fine,” Sarah replied. “The Battle Choir has been gathering at least an hour every day for worship. If you think Grace and Eva were lively with their song and dance before, you should see them in front of a room of hundreds. They’re like fireworks; they were made to grab attention.”

“The Battle Choir?”

Sarah laughed lightly, shaking her head. “I didn’t pick the name, but let’s just say while you men were fighting at the front, we women were waging a spiritual battle at the rear.”

Eric nodded his head, not sure what to make of her statement but unwilling to press. “And how are the others?”

“Elizabeth is back in her comfort zone,” Sarah replied. “By comfort zone, I mean you’d think she’s a famous and revered sage by the amount of advice she gives—some asked for, though most not. Still, she was preparing for this war long before anyone put bullet to barrel and knows quite a bit. Trey continues to surprise even himself. There’s not a thing that guy can’t do, other than hold a mature conversation. Judah and Alexandra are doing much better. Alexandra has latched onto Judah and he’s absolutely fine with that.”

“It’s about damn time,” Eric replied with a laugh.

“Alexandra isn’t the only one latching onto Judah. There are some soldiers who are happily living in his shadow. They call him Longshot, much to Judah’s disdain. It seems Judah gunned down twelve men at long range who were attempting to overrun Adam, Marc, and Tyler at the bridge, all before single handedly leading almost thirty disorganized snipers out of the burning dorm to protect us women. Supposedly, those men are not quite ready to abandon his lead just yet.”

“I’m sure Judah loves that,” Eric replied.

“Oh, how he hates it,” Sarah replied with a chuckle. “He insists that rifle you gave him did most of the work and keeps reminding the men that the Texans arrived before they were halfway to the Heritage Building. But to them, he’s still the young warrior who did more than ten others combined.”

“Well, it’s the leaders who love to lead that you have to worry about. Judah will be fine so long as he remembers that. Besides, he comes from good stock.”

Sarah grinned and nodded her head, though her smile began to fade into a recognition of reality.

“Eric, before we have the conversation we both know needs to happen, I need to tell you that Tyler’s dead.”

A flash of heat raced across Eric’s skin, paralyzing him for a moment as his mind registered what his ears had heard. He had received few visitors outside of the occasional nurses. Eric had been informed little about the battle, other than they had miraculously won after the surprise arrival of Texan reinforcements. Judah had visited first, staying long enough to confirm his father’s return and the well-being of the Reinhart family. Gene and Adam had dropped by later on two separate occasions—visitations full of the rare and slightly awkward act of rough and tough men weeping as they reunited, passing time by sharing the tale behind each new scar they bore. Eric had hoped the lack of bad news on their behalf was a good sign, but he knew they were likely sparing him the worst.

“When did he die?” Eric asked.

“After the battle,” Sarah replied. “Adam wanted to tell you, but Gene didn’t want to worry you yet. I’m not sure I was even supposed to tell you, but…I would have wanted to know.”

Eric hesitated before taking a deep breath, asking the question he had yet to work up the courage to ask anyone else. In a way, it symbolized just how comfortable he was with Sarah.

“How many died?”

Sarah paused, her eyes glazing over as she stared at Eric quietly. “Too many, but less than would have had you not been here. You saved a lot of people, Eric. We lost many hundreds, but it would have been thousands had you not organized the resistance. Still, Tyler’s death has struck everyone hard. It was like he was the adhesive holding everyone together.”

Eric nodded his head slowly. He had come to like Tyler in the short time they had known one another. Though Tyler had come from a very different background, he had been instrumental in preparing Fort Harding’s defenses. Lieutenant Hicks had only just survived the battle on Race Street, but it had become quite clear that even he would have done little had he arrived earlier, though he’d never agree to such a claim. Eric had heard from Gene that Hicks had traveled south after the battle, debriefing with his Texan counterparts. Hicks was apparently strutting around a liberated North Little Rock, claiming credit for saving Fort Harding, even though it had been Tyler who put hammer to nail early on while Hicks wanted to debate defense theory for months. Without the walls Tyler had ordered built six months ago at the onset of winter, the Patriarchs would have rolled right through Fort Harding’s inner sanctum faced with all the resistance of a dog barking against oncoming traffic.

“He was a good man,” Eric finally said. “We owe our survival to him.”

“Tyler and hundreds more.”

“How’s Nadia doing?”

“She’s handling it better than I thought she would have,” Sarah replied. “It’s no secret that she hates the prisoners we’re holding with an outspoken passion, but she’s strong and refuses to let Tyler’s death get in the way of her mission to watch over Fort Harding’s citizens.”

“We’re holding prisoners?”

Sarah nodded her head. “Nearly three thousand men and women who had attacked us survived the battle, though many had been injured. Some quite badly. They’re being held in a camp just outside the fort until Adam, Nadia, and the others decide what to do next.”

“And what does happen next?” Eric asked.

“They’re making a big announcement today,” Sarah said. “A
very
big announcement. Adam’s going to—”

“I’m not talking about Adam.” Eric gazed at Sarah, captivated by her as he drank in her beauty. “I’m not talking about Fort Harding, a group of prisoners, the Patriarchs, or the Imperium. I’m talking about us.” He reached forward, grabbing her hand. She smiled, letting him wrap his fingers around hers. He hesitated, wondering if he should tell her the entirety of his long and heartbreaking story, but he didn’t want her to love him out of pity.

He needed her to love him for the man she knew him to be.

“I’ve never considered myself a privileged man. I’m not a world changer. I’m not some great leader. I am a soldier trained to fly above the clouds and kill below them. I struggled with that life, but my life seems to be one designed for war and vengeance. But now there’s more to me than my battle. There now exists this perfect weightlessness, an unforgettable freedom from the life I had been chained to. Sarah, now that I know you, I cannot disremember you. I can do a lot of things, but it will forever be beyond me to not love you.”

“Eric, Adam’s alive. My
husband
is alive. Please don’t put me in this impossible situation.”

“I know Adam’s back and I am thrilled he’s alive, but we can’t pretend what happened between us never took place. Honestly, I don’t care about anything else. I
can’t
care about anything else. You are all I have. The rest is simply a hollow and meaningless darkness.”

Sarah paused, a frown lingering on her face. The light caught her blonde hair, framing her face with a crown of gold.

Eric had never loved as much as he loved Sarah in that moment.

“Do you really love me?” Sarah asked.

“I’d get out of this bed and fight a thousand battles to prove it so.”

Sarah slowly pulled her hand away—the sudden onset of an absence of joy more agonizing than all the pains in Eric’s battered body.

“I don’t need you to fight a thousand battles.” Sarah stood from the chair, carefully pushing it back to where it had been as though she were erasing her tracks. “You can prove you love me by never speaking about what happened between us. Adam cannot know.”

“Sarah, you know I can’t just—”

“Eric,” Sarah began coldly, her voice a raging whisper. “Adam can never know!” She turned and began walking toward the door.

“You know I can’t pretend
we
didn’t happen,” Eric said as she opened the door. “I know Adam’s back, but I won’t just forget about us. I can’t forget about you.”

“You have to,” Sarah replied.

“Why?” Eric pleaded, bordering on tears. “Why are we forced to abandon something that you and I know was right?”

Sarah hesitated, turning back to face him as she wiped one last tear from her face.

“As you once said not long ago,” Sarah began, “it’s not ours to reason why, but to do and die.”

Sarah turned and walked through the open door, shutting it behind her with a click. For a long time, Eric’s gaze simply lingered on the back of the pale door as he thought about what she had said. He knew it was irrational for him to expect her to abandon Adam now that he was back, but Eric couldn’t simply forget Sarah and the burning love he held for her.

Eventually, Eric closed his eyes tightly, trying and failing to shut the world out and re-submerge himself into a dream state of indifference.

Victor Castle shifted his tied wrists as he sat under the hot sun. The Americans had only managed to erect enough tents for a third of the survivors and most of the men had agreed to let the women take the shade. Victor hadn’t had much say in the matter, though he hadn’t had much say in anything since the bombs ceased and the American search team found him weeping on the embankment of the creek.

Victor was now completely deaf—a man without ears in a world that always had something to scream. Life was now a great and silent wasteland and despite the bonds that still held him, he couldn’t help but smile as he thought about the great victory within him.

Eight days of freedom
.

Victor glanced to his right and watched as a group of Americans entered the camp, immediately noticing Adam Reinhart at their head. He smiled, watching as Adam and half a dozen others walked slowly through the rows of survivors. Another twenty armed soldiers stood guard around the group, though they didn’t stop Adam and the others from leaning down and speaking with injured survivors. Victor could tell Adam Reinhart was a good man—a leader the fragmented people of the United States desperately needed—and he hoped to live long enough to see Adam take a stand against those who had tried to destroy America.

Eventually, Adam and the others neared Victor. Adam’s eyes met Victor’s briefly before moving on down the line. However, Adam paused and glanced back, fixating his gaze on Victor. Victor tensed and sat up. Adam walked back, turning to the side and speaking as he pointed at Victor, though Victor couldn’t tell what he was saying. The nurse who had been attending Victor spoke briefly with Adam. Adam hesitated before turning to another man and grabbing a tablet from his hands. Adam spoke, the tablet rendering Adam’s voice to text in real time.