Free Dux Bellorum (Future History of America Book 3) by Marcus Richardson

beat faster as the men on the ground called out to each other and tried to take cover behind their trucks.   The only man who didn't seem fazed was the one with the loudspeaker. He wore a campaign hat and a matching uniform.   He stood casually next to the open door of the police cruiser and waited.
    "Now just settle down boys, this ain't nothing to get worked up about.   Hold your fire."   The man said to his followers.
    Erik swallowed, it felt like a rock going down his throat.   He watched as Ted appeared in the roof hatch wearing a helmet and waved.   "Hello down there!"
    "Hello yourself.   Where you y'all from?" called out the officer.
    "Florida," replied Ted.
    "What you doing in Dunham?   There's some sort of convoy on the way?"
    The floodgates opened and Ted was peppered with questions from the men all around the M-ATV.   They asked for food, they asked for medicine, they asked for news.   Ted held up his hands to try to calm everyone, but the noise didn't stop until the Sheriff flipped the siren on his car for a few seconds, silencing everyone.
    "Now boys just hang on a second, let me do the talking."   The man adjusted his wide-brimmed campaign hat and glanced up at Ted.   "My name is Daryl Jonston.   I'm Sheriff here in Hull County.   I'd like to ask you a few questions if you don't mind?"
    Ted nodded.   "That's fine, Sheriff—I'd like to ask a few questions myself."
    "You boys part of a convoy?   What unit you with?"
    "I'm Captain Ted Jensen, 3rd Battalion, 1st Florida Volunteers.   We're with the National Guard."
    Erik stifled a laugh.   1st Florida Volunteers?   What kind of bullshit is that, Ted?
    Sheriff Jonston hushed the mumbles from the men around him.   " Florida?   You boys know you're in the wrong state?   Hell, you're halfway to Atlanta."
    Ted shook his head.   "All due respect, Sheriff Jonston, we're not going anywhere near Atlanta."
    The sheriff nodded and took off his hat.   He wiped his face but the big sunglasses remained perched on his nose.   "I couldn't agree with you more.   Atlanta…it's a no-man's-land.   Only ones that survived the fires after everything fell apart are the gangs."
    "We're on recon for the rest of the Battalion.   Bunch of us have been sent in all directions heading north.   We're looking for food, fuel, supplies, and local populations willing to help."
    Erik counted to ten before the sheriff responded.   "Well…don't know how much we're gonna be able to satisfy any of those you're looking for, captain.   Things around here got real bad recently."
    While the sheriff and Ted talked, Erik focused his attention on the men he could see.   Before he'd lost his radio, Ted mentioned a few cars coming from the north.   If they were anything like the pickup trucks that came from the south, he estimated there were at least 15 armed men out on the road.   So far no one had spotted him, but he couldn't stay hidden behind a truck forever.
    "… all went kinda crazy of a sudden."
    "That meshes with what we've seen from the other communities further south.   How many did you lose?"
    The sheriff leaned against the hood of his cruiser.   "Lost most of my force.   Only got three deputies left.   And the posse."   He waved an arm, indicating the man in and around the pickup trucks.   "Had to deputize these good old boys just to help me keep the peace.   With the election coming up–"
    "Election?" asked Ted.   Erik risked another glance and saw Ted lean over the side of the M-ATV.   "Sheriff, I don't mean to sound rude, but don't you think we got bigger things to worry about than elections?"
    The lawman laughed, a bitter sound.   "I reckon you might be right.   Ain't up to me though—the mayor up and died an' the people need someone to lead them."
    "You gonna ask them if they can help?" asked one of the men from the pickup trucks.
    Erik couldn't hear what the sheriff said in reply, but he stared at the man until he looked down and away.   "I'm