The Creed (Book 1): The Hunt

by Powers, AJ

  “But it didn’t. And I won’t let it,” he said, making a promise he couldn’t be sure he’d keep. “I know what I’m doing is dangerous, but Kayla,” he said, urging her face off his shoulder to look him in the eye. “It will be better someday. It will be.”

  The look of hurt in Kayla’s eyes told Mason that she no longer agreed.

  Mason took a breath to reassure her, but there was another knock on the door.

  “Come in,” Mason said as loudly as his voice permitted.

  Winters stepped inside; his face washed with relief. “It’s damn good to see you awake, buddy,” he said walking over to the bed. “Good to see you, Kayla,” he added.

  “You, too, Cody.” Kayla, said. “Thank you,” she said, tears dancing in her eyes. “Thank you, Cody.”

  Winters nodded and smiled. He’d been making his way up the stairwell when Mason was shot, and immediately took action to stop the bleeding and radioed EMS. Had he not acted so quickly, Mason would have likely bled out in the stairwell. “Rest assured, I’ve always got this man’s back,” he said, loyalty in his voice. “Lord knows, he’s had mine plenty of times,” he said gratefully. He shifted his focus back to Mason. “So, how ya feeling?”

  Mason shifted uncomfortably. “Like the luckiest man alive.”

  Winters laughed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah. Sounds like the man upstairs was looking after ya,” he said in a low voice. Deism, or any talk of it was widely discouraged among those working for the regime.

  “Amen,” Kayla whispered.

  There was an awkward silence before Winters looked at Kayla. “Uhm, would you mind excusing us for a moment, Kayla? I need to share a few things with—”

  “My husband nearly died, Cody!” Kayla interrupted. “I think the office talk can wait until later.”

  Winters recoiled from Kayla’s scathing tone, realizing how inappropriate he was coming across.

  “It’s okay, honey,” Mason chimed in.

  “It’s not okay, Drew!” she said, shaking her head. “You almost died! You don’t need to be dealing with work crap right now.”

  “I promise, it won’t take long, then I’ll be on my way,” Winters added.

  Kayla scowled at him. Her previous affection toward him for saving her husband’s life all but gone.

  “I could really use some water,” Mason said, gently laying his hand onto Kayla’s. “Would you be willing to get me some? Maybe get yourself a cup of coffee, too.”

  Kayla tightened her brow, her nostrils flaring. She reluctantly nodded her head, her expression slowly softening. She stood to her feet and left the room, saying nothing on her way out.

  “Sorry about that, buddy,” Winters said, dragging a nearby stool next to the bed and having a seat.

  “It’s fine. She’s a hot mess right now, but can you blame her?”

  “Nope,” Winters said. “Well, I’ll just get straight to it. Even though you wounded him, Typhon managed to escape.”

  “I wounded him?” Mason asked, shocked with the revelation. “How?”

  “You managed to squeeze a shot off before you went down. The forensics team found a 9mm in the wall along with some blood that didn’t match yours. It was a superficial wound, though, not a showstopper. But Gray himself praised your heroic actions at our last meeting.”

  Mason closed his eyes and tried to remember the brief gunfight, but his mind was blank. “I don’t remember any of it,” he said, frustrated. “The last thing I recall was hearing someone come up the stairs behind me. I assume that was you.”

  “Yeah. And I gotta say, man, you gave me a hell of a scare. I thought you were punching out on me.”

  “I’m glad I was able to beat the odds.”

  “Me, too,” Winters replied. “Well, the real reason I’m here is to tell you that Typhon was spotted traveling out of the country on a commercial truck bound for the Texas Alliance just a day after the apartment incident. They managed to slip through the checkpoint into the Outlands, but one of the guards the driver bribed had a sudden change of heart after they left and told his CO what had happened. They sent a team to chase them down, but both Typhon and the driver neutralized the squad and then made off with their Humvee.”

  “No one else made contact?” Mason asked. “Aren’t all our vehicles equipped with trackers?”

  “Half the Humvees in service, especially out on the border, need firmware upgrades in order to work with the new low-orbiting positioning system. The brass was more concerned with updating the transports issued to people like us before they would bother with the old military trucks guarding the border.”

  “So, they got away?” Mason asked.

  Winters nodded. “We did happen to have a Vulture in the vicinity when the team was ambushed, and they were able to track them for a brief time. They were headed southwest on the old 44 when we lost contact.”

  “Lost contact?” Mason asked, his voice matching the surprise on his face. “They took down an X-41?”

  “It’s looking that way. Reinforcements found a field of wreckage a half hour after their last transmission. The sky was a bit hazy, but otherwise the weather was fine. But the damning evidence was that the onboard computer sent a distress signal back to HQ after the system automatically deployed chaff.”

  “Holy crap,” Mason murmured.

  “We lost the trail after the Vulture was downed, and it’s presumed they made it to their destination, wherever it was.”

  “What did the Texas Alliance say?”

  “They deny having any involvement, of course. And there’s not much proof to suggest otherwise.”

  “What do we know about the trucking company?”

  “Legit. Or, at least they were. Our guys couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary at the warehouse. We’ve detained all the employees on file in the meantime, but we have more than enough photographs proving that the owner of the company was driving the truck.”

  “What about Typhon?”

  “He kept his face covered at most of the checkpoints. Apparently, faking sleep.”

  “And none of the guards thought to verify his documentation?”

  “Come on, now. You remember what it was like being stationed at one of those hellholes for months at a time. Besides, the paperwork was authorized by the DOC. No one wants to keep DOC transports hung up at a checkpoint for very long.”

  “Better than letting a terrorist escape the country.”

  “Good point,” Winters fired back.

  “Okay, so how do we know it was Typhon, then?”

  Winters pulled out his phone and thumbed through a few folders before facing the screen toward Mason. Mason’s eyes narrowed on the pixelated footage as he watched through the lens of a body camera attached to a hoplite’s chest. The man was screaming about being pinned down and needing backup as the sound of bullets thwacking off the steel Humvee door distorted the audio. Seconds later, the camera turned, and an armed man approached from the other side of the Humvee.

  “That’s him,” Mason said. “That’s definitely him.”

  Typhon’s muzzle pointed straight at the screen and then the video flashed with green and red pixels before cutting out entirely.

  “Mother of god,” Mason uttered.

  “Yeah. They didn’t stand a chance.”

  “Do we know what they were transporting.”

  Winters got quiet for a moment. He looked around to make sure a nurse or orderly hadn’t slipped into the room unnoticed. He turned back to Mason and said, “The driver’s name is Carrick O’Connor. He has a sister who owns a bar near downtown. We’ve been keeping an eye on her for a while, suspecting that she was running some sort of organized crime syndicate from within the bar, but recently the Guard started suspecting that she might have a connection to Cleon, and may even be working with the insurgents.”

  “Have they arrested her yet?” Mason asked anxiously over the unsettling news.

  “No. They don’t want to blow their chance for her to lead t
hem to Cleon. They’re watching her place like a hawk now, though.”

  “So, they think her brother was transporting something for her?”

  “Well, let me ask you something. What was the biggest unknown we had about the Hercules hijacking?”

  Mason nodded thoughtfully. “How did they transport the cargo?”

  “Bingo. We suspected at least three eighteen-wheelers had to have been used for what they took, and we’ve not ruled out that a legitimate transport company could have been involved. But I think it’s safe to say we can confirm it, now.”

  Mason let a breath of air pass through his lips as the spiderweb of connections that Winters had just spun strung together inside his head. Typhon hijacked the ship. Carrick’s company transported the bounty. Carrick’s sister is in bed with the insurgents… “So, we’re back to believing that Typhon is working with the insurgents?”

  Winters gave a half shrug. “Gray isn’t fully convinced just yet, but that’s the general consensus among the others.”

  “Why is Gray still doubting it?”

  “Without definitive proof that the sister is part of the insurgency, he doesn’t want us going too far down that rabbit hole. As he said, he doesn’t want us looking to the right when Typhon is to our left.”

  “Which do you think it is?”

  Winters pursed his lips. “I think they’re all connected to the insurgency.”

  Mason turned his head away from Winters and stared out the window for a moment. The sky was a drab gray and it looked as if the snow could start falling again any minute. He took a deep, painful breath and then looked back at his longtime friend. “So, then, assuming that Carrick’s sister is working with the insurgents, and that Typhon and Carrick were smuggling something from The Hercules out of the country on behalf of Carrick’s sister—and therefore, on behalf of the insurgents—what the hell was it? Weapons? Or something else?”

  “Not something,” Winters shook his head. “Someone.”

  Chapter 19

  Hagan dragged his feet through the slushy snow as he walked toward the hunting stand. He groaned an exhausted sigh as he climbed the tree to observe the safehouse from a distance. He nearly fell asleep over the course of his thirty-minute wait but managed to keep himself alert enough to avoid falling the twenty or so feet to the frozen tundra below. Seeing a tendril of smoke dance out of the chimney, and the red pickup truck parked in the driveway dusted in a few inches of snow, gave Hagan’s weary mind a moment of relief.

  Climbing down, Hagan trudged through the snow to the old hunting cabin, checking for any indications that something was amiss. Feeling for his pistol first, he stepped up to the door and reached for the handle.

  “You really should have left a note, sweetheart. I was getting worried about you,” Solomon said from the table, his booming voice dripping in sarcasm. He reached for a spray bottle of CLP and doused the bolt carrier group of his HK 416 before scrubbing it down with a filthy toothbrush.

  “Good to see you, too, Saul. Run into any trouble out on the road?” he asked, looking at the man’s disassembled rifle on the table.

  “A little. But probably not as much fun as you had,” Solomon replied, nodding toward the blood-stained rags and pile of gauze packaging next to the couch. “Is it safe to say that your visit with Farhad did not quite go as planned?”

  “Yeah, you could say that,” Hagan sighed as he walked to the opposite side of the cabin, plopping down on the couch to warm his body by the fire.

  “Word on the street is you made a pretty big mess in Parkland Heights the other day. Killed three hoplites and a CRG. Wounded quite a few more. Your face is all over the place, now.”

  “They have my name, yet?”

  Solomon wiped down the bolt carrier group with an oily rag, trying his best to polish the worn-down metal. “Nope. But does that really matter anymore?”

  “So long as they don’t know who we are, and what we’re capable of, then they’ll continue to underestimate us.”

  “Not so sure about that, Matt. They may not know who you are, but I think we’ve made it abundantly clear over the past two years what we can do. We’re more than just a fly in the ointment to them. Did you know they have an entire taskforce dedicated to bringing you down?”

  Hagan made a funny face. There was almost a sense of satisfaction in his expression. “For me? Oh, come on, Saul,” Hagan waved his hand. “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Well, when you didn’t come back, I decided to swing by Aileen’s before I went runnin’ and gunnin’ through Parkland Heights looking for ya. Wilford said you were doing a quick stint across the border and that you’d be back in a day or two, but that we needed to start watching our step because you have become public enemy number one.”

  The satisfaction Hagan felt for becoming such a headache to the regime faded as he realized how much harder his mission was going to be moving forward. Every hoplite, CRG and fink across the country now knew Hagan’s face better than their own mother’s. With the amount of film of his full, unshrouded face, the algorithms would be finely tuned to spot him within fifteen milliseconds of being in view. Not only would he start having to operate at night, he would need to, at the very least, come up with a way to throw the algos off without standing out to the people around him.

  “So, how was your trip to Texas?” Solomon asked.

  Hagan debriefed Solomon on everything that happened over the past few days, particularly focusing on the fact that Aileen was part of the insurgency. The revelation was less shocking to Solomon than it had been for Hagan.

  “Yeah, I pretty much had that figured out after we jacked that boat.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Hagan replied.

  “Would it have changed anything?” he asked as he placed the upper receiver back onto the lower, pushing in the takedown pins.

  “Yeah,” Hagan replied sharply.

  Solomon gave a crooked smile. “Right.”

  “That’s the kind of thinking that could get us pinched, Saul. Hell, it nearly did get me pinched.”

  “You don’t know that,” Solomon said, “but what you do know is that they saved your ass from getting pinched. You think Aileen would have half the resources she has if she was just smuggling contraband in and out of the country? The fact that she was able to extract you from the Charlie Foxtrot you created in Parkland Heights is a testament to how much these guys have their act together.” Solomon grabbed the charging handle of the rifle and racked the bolt several times, giving his work a nod of approval. He set the rifle down on the table and leaned back in the chair, stretching his legs out and letting his body slide down a few inches. “You know I would follow you into Hell, brother. And I’m with you ‘til the end on this one. But we’re going to need these guys’ help if we want to see this to the finish line. And, honestly, if we can help these people give the regime a black eye in the process, it’s all the better. Hell, I might even join them afterwards.”

  Hagan stared at the roaring fire in front of him, his eyes glossed over. He remained silent as he digested Solomon’s words.

  “I miss Benjamin, too, Matt. But his death was never in vain, no matter how unprovoked the attack was. He died so that Samaya could live. And he didn’t hesitate for a second to do so. You know why?”

  Hagan glared at Solomon; his eyes filled with agony.

  “Because you taught him those three little words that meant everything to him.”

  Hagan’s eyes danced with tears as Solomon spoke.

  “Benjamin only did what you had taught him to do all those years. To put the safety and needs of others above his own. To love his family more than himself. And now, because of his death, we’re here in Alexandria, working with a group of men and women who are standing up against some sick, evil bastards who thrive off the suffering of others. And we have the privilege to fight those evil bastards alongside them, Matt. Just like we did countless times across the ocean. Except, these are American patriots. Our brothers an
d sisters. Deo, patriae, familia. Right?”

  Hagan slumped his head down, dropping his face into his hands. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You sound just like Carrick.”

  “He must be a smart man, then,” Solomon joked back.

  Hagan laughed. “How’d I know you were going to say something like that?”

  “Cuz you know it’s true,” Solomon said, giving Hagan’s shoulder a squeeze before walking over to the kitchenette to fix some dinner. “Like I said, Matt. I’m with you to the end on this one. Come Hell or highwater. We can figure out what happens next after we cross that bridge. But… Think about it, okay?” Solomon walked over to the counter and started rummaging through the pantry. “So, with that said, what’s our next move?”

  Hagan, still entranced with the flickering flames of the fireplace, was silent for several seconds before finally saying, “Wilford gave me two more names.”

  Chapter 20

  Mason’s lungs ached as he stifled his wheezing cough into the crook of his arm, trying not to disturb the hushed situation room. Even though his discharge from the hospital was only two days earlier, he had been summoned at 22:30 to attend an impromptu meeting. Kayla vehemently protested, but Mason knew something big was about to go down. He needed to be there for it. He would deal with her fallout later.

  The lights in the room were darkened and the screens on the wall at the front displayed multiple helmet-cam views of team Anaconda’s personnel. For as elite as the Civil Republican Guard was, team Anaconda, a small, specialized division of the CRG, was even greater. With less than a hundred members worthy enough to make the cut, Anaconda was reserved for when a situation needed to be handled with speed, precision and authority. For when Alexandria needed to remind its enemies that there was a price to pay for mutiny.

  The squad of eight men sat in a dark, metal box illuminated only by a single dim, red bulb near the rear door. Their bodies bounced and swayed as the MRAP they were sitting in raced to the southwest toward Twin Oaks. Their expressions were stoic, as if they were merely heading to the grocery store to pick something up for dinner. Each man wore state-of-the-art body armor with an equally advanced helmet. Mounted to the top of each helmet was a set of panoramic, white phosphor night vision goggles. The four tubes, giving the user a wide field of view, made the soldier wearing it look more like a monster than a man. They were horrifying, especially considering who was concealed behind the goggles. Team Anaconda was the best there was. The only way someone walked away from a fight with them was if Anaconda wanted them to.