Read Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) Online
Authors: Marcus Richardson
"Stay down kids!" Erik said as he swung inside and took a knee by the door.
He pulled his rifle up and aimed forward leaning out the door, looking for movement as they retreated south.
Damn it, we're going the wrong direction…
Ted turned in his seat and peered through the rear window, driving in reverse.
"Hang on, there's a spot for me to turn around."
Erik lurched back into the closest seat as the van twisted and weaved in between the abandoned cars on the interstate, pulling backward at a good clip toward the exit.
Every move threatened to toss him out the door.
A loud thump signaled a bullet impacting the front of the van.
Lindsay screamed and Brin dropped down on top of the kids to cover them with her body.
Erik aimed out the window.
"I don't have a target!"
"Hang on," Ted said as he spun the van, tires chirping and threw it into drive.
He floored it and the engine roared.
Tires squealing, the van lumbered around one final car and down the exit ramp, heading away from the interstate back the way they'd come.
"There was a crossroads about a mile back," Ted announced over the noise of the wind rushing past Erik's open door.
"We'll aim for that, then loop north and try to get around these jokers."
Erik manhandled the door and slammed it shut.
The noise inside lowered dramatically.
"Did you see any other vehicles moving?" asked Brin as she got up off the floor.
"No, but they can have their pick of what's left out there," replied Erik, his heart thudding in his chest.
"Why would they start shooting at us?"
Ted grunted and spun the wheel, avoiding a charred car.
"Why would we run?
It's the new normal, man—brave new world and all that crap."
He glanced at Erik in the rear-view mirror.
"Anyone you don't know is a threat."
Chapter 28
Chinese Proposal
D
ANIEL
STARED
AT
THE
map, trying to ignore the frantic pace of the staffers out in the hallway. Baltimore had fallen. The arrival of Malcolm's people with Stapleton hot on his heels had caused a mass, impromptu evacuation— the greatest in the history of the United States. Over two hundred thousand displaced survivors streamed out of the city and outlying suburbs just as promises of power began to shine a beacon of hope to the beleaguered mid-Atlantic states.
It was the worst possible timing.
Daniel stared at the paperwork on his desk regarding Edwards' transfer.
Everything had been finalized.
Great.
She was shot down trying to attack Malcolm and the Russians. She's part of the goddamn problem. Now what do I do with her?
His door opened and one of the ubiquitous Secret Service agents stepped inside. "Sir, the prisoner transfer is complete. We have custody of the colonel—she's being brought here now."
Daniel blinked.
"Here?"
"Yes, sir. When you issued the evacuation directive, the decision was made to bring her with us."
Daniel felt heat creep up his neck.
"Who made that decision?"
The agent shook his head. "I don't know, sir. That came down from the Pentagon. I'm just following orders. No man left behind, I guess?"
Daniel forced himself to smile. "Of course, thank you Brian."
He stared at the door after the agent left.
Okay, that's the least of my concerns. When we leave, we'll just take her with us.
Then he smiled.
If Stapleton manages to get close to me, she can be my shield. I'll trade her life for mine.
He knew playing not to lose was a surefire way to lose, but at this point in the game, things were falling apart faster than he could put back together.
He glanced at the map.
The leading-edge of Malcolm's army was less than ten miles from Washington.
Stapleton, as far as he could tell, was still north of Baltimore, but that wouldn't last long. The video reconnaissance from drones orbiting Baltimore showed Stapleton had transferred his tanks onto flatbed trucks and was transporting them around the 695 loop.
He's trying to get his tanks south first. That's not good.
He's playing offense.
If he's moving his tanks that early, what kind of units has he already slipped south?
Does he have any special forces?
Why didn't someone tell me about that?
The phone on his desk rang, interrupting his dark thoughts on the best route to evacuate to the Greenbrier bunker.
West Virginia. How the hell am I going to run the country from West Virginia?
He picked up the phone. "Yes?"
"I… I'm sorry, Mr. President, I don't mean to interrupt—”
He sighed.
"What is it Marylyn?"
"You have a call…from a Minister Shin Ho.
Or maybe it's just Mr. Shin Ho.
I can't really tell,"
she whispered.
"His accent is so thick."
"Who?"
"I know, right? I said the same thing!"
his secretary cleared her throat.
"I mean, I'm sorry, sir. I don't know who he is, but he claims to be an official representative of the Chinese government.
And he already had the proper codes…"
"What does he want?"
"I'm sorry sir, I didn't ask. Hang on, I'll go check—”
Daniel rolled his eyes again. "No, no. Just put him through. Thank you."
"Hello Mr. President,"
said a heavily accented voice—Marylyn was right. "
My name is Shin Ho. I am Minister of the Interior for the People's Republic. It is a pleasure to be finally speaking with you."
"Mr. Ho, I've heard good things about you," Daniel lied.
Politicians always liked to hear that.
Didn't they?
"Thank you for calling. Has your country reached a decision on my proposal?"
Please say yes.
A polite chuckle crossed the line.
"Mr. President, I believe I should be asking
you
that question. We've been watching the disturbing events taking place near your nation's capital. My sympathies and condolences are yours, sir."
Daniel sighed.
Is everyone out there watching us like some Goddamn reality TV show?
"Thank you, minister."
What's your God damn decision?
Are you going to accept my offer or not?
Daniel opened his mouth to give voice to his thoughts when the minister spoke.
"We have considered your proposal, and in light of the current situation, I have a counter-offer for
you
, Mr. President."
Daniel tasted bile in the back of his throat. "With all due respect, minister, what exactly makes you think that I would be open to hearing a proposition from you? Your people have invaded several states in my country and if the reports are accurate, destroyed several major cities. This is unacceptable."
"Ah, yes. Phoenix.
I regret to inform you Mr. President, my people had nothing to do with that—insurgent vigilantes from your own civilian population started the conflagration that destroyed Phoenix.
We have been trying to provide humanitarian aid in line with the United Nations mandate.
Unfortunately, our soldiers have been forced to defend themselves, sometimes with costly results for the local civilian population…"
"Vigilantes you say?"
Why wasn't I told of this?
"Indeed, Mr. President.
They called themselves the Regulators."
"Called?"
The minister cleared his throat.
"They have been destroyed, Mr. President.
But their influence lives on. All these people want to do is fight and make war. They don't understand that peace is a far better alternative."
"I see…" Daniel said cautiously.
"Mr. President I will come to the point. I know about the deal you cut with the Russians. I know about your offer to the rebels. I wish to secure my own deal for China. Help us track down and fight these insurrectionists in Arizona and California. Help me stop the needless slaughter of my troops and in return I will make sure they follow the strictest of orders to leave civilian populations alone."
Daniel stared at the map of the invasion with an open mouth.
"You want me to help you invade my own country?
I offered you a truce if you'd stop hostilities in exchange for assistance on the east coast and you want me to actively
support
your invasion in the southwest?"
"If you do, I can guarantee the swift arrival of Chinese forces to help stop your rogue army and end the rebellion.
My people are standing by.
Check your satellite imagery. You know this to be true. Within 36 hours, I can have an army division four times the size of the one outside your capital city ready to take back your country for you. All I ask, is a tiny bit of land in California and Arizona."
Daniel thought about this for a moment. He forced himself to get over the gut-wrenching aspect of ceding part of the United States to a foreign power. It was easier this time that it had been when he was dealing with the Russians, but he still didn't like the idea.
"Let's say I agree to this plan of yours. What guarantee do I have you'll keep your word?"
The cultured voice laughed softly another in the line.
"Why, you have no guarantee at all. Beggars cannot be choosers—I believe that is how the saying goes in your country? You Mr. President, are perhaps the greatest beggar in the history of the world. I'm offering you a solution to all of your problems. I understand if you wish take some time to think about it. In your position, I might do the same."
"Well…"
"Think quickly Mr. President—this offer does have a time limit. If the rebels or your rogue army happen to capture Washington, I am unsure as to whether anything can be done to help you."
"I…thank you," Daniel said. "How will I contact you? I mean, once I've made my decision?"
Shin Ho laughed again. "
Not to worry, Mr. President—I will contact you. Good day."
The line went dead.
Daniel slammed the phone down. He felt like he was being pulled in a hundred different directions at once.
Why the hell did I ever want this job?
Chapter 29
Liberate D.C.
"W
ELL
,
YOU
KNOW
WHAT
they say, 'third time's the charm.'"
Hughes stared at Albertson, sitting across the cabin in their Black Hawk, strapped securely in his jump seat.
"What?" asked his XO.
Hughes shook his head.
"This isn't the third time.
If we find her, that's great, but our target is the president."
"We're going after the president?" asked the young officer over the noise of the helicopter's rotors.
"Dude, I didn't sign up for that."
Hughes frowned, though he had to agree with his lieutenant.
"I didn't either, but keep in mind what the general said—Jones wasn't elected.
He
assumed
power.
He took the reigns of government after Suthby died—
he
wasn't elected either, but he tried to at least
act
like a president.
Jones is running around making treaties with the ChiComs for Chrissake.
That shit's gotta stop."
"Hooah," replied Albertson.
Hughes checked his watch.
It had been only a few hours since their hasty retreat from Philly and immediate retasking to Washington.
He stared out open side door and frowned at the city below.
Everything was moving so fast.
One minute he's trying to rescue a downed pilot in an American city, the next he's assaulting Washington, D.C. and trying to capture a sitting president.
Well, sort of president.
He let the thoughts tumble and percolate in his mind as he watched the sprawling suburbs of Washington drift under their ride.
Lifting his eyes up, he focused on the dozens of helicopters ferrying hundreds of troops toward the nation's capital.
Between the Black Hawks and their haze-gray Sea Hawk cousins, Hughes estimated they had a combined Army/Navy task force big enough to be called a proper battalion.
"Look at 'em down there…" muttered Albertson, leaning out the door to stare at the ground.
"There's hundreds of people in the streets, just watching us."
"They probably think we're relief workers or something.
Washington hasn't had any help since the U.N. pulled out."
"How many rebels you think they left behind as sleepers?" asked Albertson, still staring at the ground.
"Too many."
Hughes didn't want to think about it.
It was hard enough to wrap his mind around the idea that they were going after the president.
He just wished he knew what Stapleton's endgame was—no one said anything about what would happen when they
found
the president.
"Heads up Seeker, we're ten mikes out.
Lead units reporting small arms fire,"
reported the pilot.