Barnabas took two dozen men in three trucks and headed up the rough roads through mixed territory to meet Daschel and the Raiders. Bethany (Nora) had sent a message to his office. It was a countdown. He had twelve hours to get to Ramapo, before leading the attack in the morning. Brady was left to take care of business in New Atlantic.

The roads were rough, but the trucks were built to handle them. Decades of neglect had reduced long stretches to rubble. It was slow going. His navigator, a young trainee named Ted felt confident they would arrive by evening.

They passed close to xombie villages between the loyal city of Princeton and the enemy territory of Trenton. The monsters there were not well organized, but deadly enough. They knew they were being watched as they rolled by. The roads near the xombie communities were re-enforced with a sleek material which all but silenced the old overly patched tires of the black trucks. 'Soon we will have roads like these everywhere,' thought Barnabas, delighting in the anticipation of the fruition of his plans. 'New materials, plentiful grain. A restoration of the natural order.' He allowed himself to drift off in his imaginings of a bright and prosperous future. He didn't see the roadblock up ahead until the trucks stopped.

The gunmen jumped out the back and took up defensive positions. They were surrounded by the ruins of old strip malls, the tops of most of the buildings gone, walls turned to rubble. The contents of these stores had been looted decades ago. Barnabas looked out the window of one of the trucks to see a faded sign for "Jiffy Lube" painted on a sturdy structure to the left of the vehicle. There was a makeshift barricade placed across the road ahead. Old cars, trucks, chairs, garbage, piled up. There were no people anywhere.

Two of the gunmen fell. They were the youngest of Brady's trainees. The gunmen wore armor and helmets, and Barnabas could see through the window tiny needles stuck in the armor of the standing gunmen. They were being fired upon by unseen snipers.

"Get back in the trucks!" He yelled. They couldn't hear him through the closed windows. These soldiers were well trained. Brady had taught them not to fire until they had a lock on a target. Once they started firing, Barnabas knew, there would be no hope of giving orders. He got low in his seat and rolled his window down. He saw the needles sail overhead and he yelled again. This time the gunmen began to respond. Three more went down, the needles finding the gaps in the armor. Poison? They may have been fired remotely. The truck's armor protected the remaining men, and they rolled over the parking lots of the strip malls and sped away. Five men lost. These inhuman monsters would pay for that. No time for revenge. It would be coming soon enough.

The men carefully picked off the remaining needles from their armor and the interior of the trucks and put them in empty cans as they sped away from the ambush. Looking back, Barnabas could see no evidence of the xombies anywhere. They had attacked them remotely via their accursed bots. They drove past more xombie villages, expecting another attack, but none came. Everyone was on edge. By sunset, they arrived in the camp at Ramapo.

The camp was impressive. There were scores of fires and tents. The Raiders had arrived in large numbers. Daschel had done well. Rifles were cleaned and arranged in rows. Loot had been gathered from the surrounding villages. Hopefully, the cost to retrieve it had not been too dear.

There was lamb and chicken roasting on spits. Barnabas was served a large portion and ate it with vigor. Whiskey was poured. Daschel handed him a cigar he had been saving for this occasion.

"Shouldn't we wait?" Barnabas asked. "We haven't won the battle yet."

"I have no doubts, my brother," said Daschel. "Besides, I brought two more." He chomped down on the torpedo-shaped stogie, showing his impressive white teeth. The two brothers smoked and drank, soaking in the feeling of the impressive powers at their command.

"Everyone!" shouted Daschel, "Raiders! Soldiers! Gather round me and hear my brother, our commander, speak!" The men gathered around the fire. Barnabas had prepared himself for this. He thought of his grandfather, finished his whiskey and stood tall.

"Tomorrow," he began, "represents a new day for humankind." Barnabas was summoning the powerful voice of his grandfather, tuned over many years addressing the New Atlantic community. "Tomorrow, we will finally begin a battle which will end in the total defeat and subjugation of the scourge we call the xombies!" There were cheers, but he could sense hesitation and fear among the ranks.

"I know many of you rode far to be here. I know most of you have lost brothers, fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters to these terrible monstrosities who used to call themselves human. You fear them." Sounds of dissent arose now, mixed with objections. "You were right to fear them!" Quiet. "They have technology none of us can overcome! They strike without warning, in total silence! They come upon us like the angel of death itself! How can we defeat such a foe!" Mumbles of dissent intermingled with murmurings of agreement. "You might think me mad to plan an attack on such a strong xombie town! Perhaps I have lost my senses! Perhaps I am leading you all to your deaths!" Uneasy quiet now. Barnabas smiled. He had planned this moment for months, pouring over the passage of Agamemnon's speech to the Achaeans in the Iliad as they waited on the shores before the walls of Troy.

"If I am indeed leading you astray, you would be right to scatter to the winds right now! Go home! Go home and wait for the monsters to find you and pick you off one by one!" Grumbles in the crowd now. 'They are considering it,' Barnabas thought. 'Good.'

"And if part of us were to turn away right now, then it wouldn't it be best if we all turned away and ran? Ran like little children! Scatter like chickens!" There were grumbles: dangerous grumbles.

"What are we? Are we children? Are we chickens? Are we like scared little lambs waiting to be slaughtered?"

A voice shouted "No!" and more voices "No!"

"No! We are men! We are warriors! We are the courageous heroes! History will remember us for what we do tomorrow! We don't run from this battle, we fight!" He heard rising shouts, whoops and cheers, but lingering hesitation among the ranks.

"For what you don't know," his voice lower, the crowd leaning in. "Is I have a secret weapon at my control which will make these horrible monsters powerless. Tomorrow at dawn, all of their defenses will be dead. All of their technology will be useless. Finally, we'll be able to take them as the weaklings that they are! They will be turned into frightened little waifs! Easily put down!" Now there were cheers, real cheers.

"For the past two years, I have been planning an end to these creatures in Tarrytown, and that end will spread until all xombies everywhere are stripped of their mysterious powers and weapons and their lands and their technologies will be made to work for us! For we are the righteous rulers of this new world, not them!" More cheers.

"Tomorrow, we will ride across the deadly bridge in total safety. We will find the town defenseless. Fight those who offer you a fight, but spare the others. I have a use for them!" Grumbles.

"Hear me! It isn't enough we take their lives. We must take their hearts. We must suck the spirit out of them! We must obliterate their way of life! They ... will be ... our slaves." Now there was quiet. This was something new for the Raiders to consider.

"Their rich crops, their road technology, their water, their bodies, and minds will be brought back under the rightful rule of law! Their labor will serve all of us. Each of you tonight, whether you were born into a powerful family like I was, or as part of a gang in a camp out in the dust, will be the new rulers of the Northeast! Tarrytown is only the beginning! From there, we will spread out and subjugate the xombie huddles of Connecticut and the Hudson Valley! Yet still, we will press on until all of this land is reclaimed! You will all become Dukes! I will be your new King! Now I ask you, will we scatter like rats, or fight and rule? What say you?" The roar began and did not stop. "Tomorrow! The battle is at hand!" Barnabas' voice was drowned in the uproar. The men thumped their chests and clasped each other. He stood down, as the pre-battle celebration began.

Daschel walked toward him, grinning around his cigar. They hugged. More whiskey was poured. Two chairs were brought out and they drank by the main fire.

"So, you really have a plan to turn off their tech? Tell me that was not just bullshit Barn," Daschel said.

"Bethany," Barnabas said in his ear. "She's been among them for weeks. She has a plan to take down their network. No network. No weapons on the bridge. No coordinated attacks. No remote drones. Nothing."

"Seriously?" Daschel was amazed. "Our big sister? And you tell me this only now?"

"I couldn't risk anyone knowing, Dash. Had to be this way. Tomorrow, when we head over the bridge, it will be a joy ride. I am certain."

"Well, that's a fucking relief. I thought you and I were going to take up the rear, and let the Raiders take it on the chin before going in. She can really do that?"

"Our sister has been readying herself to be a plant among them for years now. It was her plan. She is extremely ... talented."

"Wait, you mean she's got goo in her head like them?"

"Only way we could do it, but we were careful. Parts of her are hooked up to their network, and parts are on a private channel to me. I've been in touch with her since she's been among them. All is well. You will see."

They sat in silence. Daschel was letting this new knowledge seep in.

"So, we really will be taking them all down, then," he said in a low voice, almost to himself.

"Yup." Barnabas drained his second glass and held it up. More whiskey arrived.

"And are you really going to let these biker idiots rule their own towns like you said? Make them Dukes?"

Barnabas laughed. "Fuck, no."

"Thank the good lord!" Daschel sighed with relief. "I thought you had lost your mind!"

The two brothers laughed and looked around at the barbarian hoard drinking and shouting, shoving each other. They sounded like wolves, howling into the black sky.