Trackers: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “I’m sorry, but…”

  “Chief Colton said it’s fine, and if you don’t believe me, you can go ask that girl at the front desk.”

  Lindsey glanced toward the door and then back at Sandra with a skeptical look.

  “Stay here, then. I’m going to check with Margaret.”

  Sandra waited for Lindsey to enter the building. Then she rushed to Raven’s Jeep. She opened the door, reached under the front seat, and searched for the extra key he kept taped to the floorboard.

  “Come on, come on,” she muttered. Her fingers scraped against the metal key, and she plucked it off the floor, jumped into the car, and slammed the door.

  “Stop!” shouted Lindsey. The door to town hall swung open and footsteps pounded the ground. By the time the detective reached the parking lot, Sandra was already gunning the engine through Bond Park. The oversized off-road tires ripped through the green sod, leaving wide tracks. She squealed onto Riverside East and pushed down harder on the gas pedal.

  She recited the note from memory. “There’s a mountain above the entrance to the underworld. Follow the wings to the nest at the top. Come alone or your daughter burns.”

  There were so many mountains in this place. Tears fell from her eyes as she scanned the sky, searching the peaks for anything that might give her a clue.

  Birds had wings. Maybe there was an actual bird’s nest she was meant to find?

  Think, Sandra, think!

  She sped up the road, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the brilliant sun. The glow reflected off the glass of one of the tramway gondolas strung across Prospect Mountain. Sandra was staring at them so hard that she almost ran into a sign that read Tunnel Access CLOSED.

  It was then she finally understood. On the tramway tour she’d taken with Raven and Allie, their guide had mentioned an old tunnel under Prospect Mountain that ferried water from Mary’s Lake to Lake Estes, where it then fed into Big Thompson River.

  The underworld was that tunnel, the gondolas were the wings, and the nest was the top of the tramway. Now she just had to figure out how to get up there. The road forked ahead to the right and left. She jerked to the left at the last moment.

  A dusty cloud of exhaust trailed the Jeep as she sped up the winding mountain roads. For several minutes she swerved up the west side of the mountain. Ahead, Turquoise Trail ended at a cul-de-sac. She slammed on the brakes and killed the engine.

  Wiping the tears from her face, she stared at the top of the mountain. It wasn’t far to the tramway, but the woods were dense and steep. She would have to hike the rest of the way up.

  Without another thought, Sandra sprinted into the forest.

  It took everything in her not to scream Allie’s name, but she resisted the urge.

  Be strong, Sandra. You can do this. You have to do this.

  Gasping for air, she pushed on, sweat dripping down her face, calves burning. She could still taste the bile from throwing up earlier, but nothing was going to stop her now. She would find her baby and then tear the kidnapping bastard apart with her bare hands.

  That was when she realized that, in her panic, she hadn’t brought a weapon. She really would have to use her bare hands.

  She ran harder through the minefield of mossy rocks and fallen logs. Somewhere in the distance, there was the caw of a crow. Another bird answered it, and then another.

  Ravens were good omens in some Native American legends. They could be tricksters, too, which was how her mischievous brother had earned his nickname. But it was strange to find so many in one place. When a turkey vulture swooped high overhead, she realized that there was only one reason so many carrion birds would have gathered.

  Something was dead at the top of Prospect Mountain.

  The pain was deep and raw, but there was something else inside her now, something that would fuel her even when hope and adrenaline failed.

  Anger.

  A deeper rage than she had ever felt in her life.

  Pawing at the branches that scraped her skin, she burst through the final stand of ponderosas at the edge of the woods and stumbled onto a dirt road. The concrete lookout of the aerial tramway towered above her like a castle. Sandra eyed the stairs leading to the tramway platform overhead.

  She took a deep breath and prepared to climb.

  “Mommy!”

  The single word seized all the air from Sandra’s lungs. She looked up to see two figures behind the metal safety fence surrounding the raised platform.

  Sandra raised her hand and squinted into the sunlight.

  “Hello, Sandra,” came a voice. “It’s been a long time.”

  She would never forget the cold, calculating, monotone voice. She didn’t need a cloud to pass over the sun to know the man that had taken Allie wasn’t Mark or some love-struck patient.

  It was someone much, much worse.

  Light as a feather, Raven told himself. He couldn’t believe Sandra had run off to find Allie without him. And she’d stolen his Jeep.

  No, on second thought he could definitely believe it. He just wished that Sandra had waited for him. Now they were searching the mountain for Sandra and Allie, and he could only hope they’d find his family before they became the next victims of the madman acting out the Water Cannibals story.

  He ducked under a tree branch and then stopped, waiting impatiently for the rest of the search party. Colton held up a hand to the right. He raised two fingers to Raven, then to Jake and Nathan, then pointed to his eyes, and finally to a clearing ahead.

  The scent of smoke caught Raven’s nose and he signaled for Creek to hide with a quick hand motion. The dog scurried into the underbrush and vanished under a moss-covered log.

  An eerie silence passed through the forest. A bird took off from the canopy, but Raven kept his eyes on the clearing. He caught the strong scent of beans. Someone had definitely been cooking. There must be people ahead, camouflaged by the foliage, and hidden by a fortress of trees. Surely their chase wouldn’t be foolish enough to camp out in the open like this, though.

  Colton lowered his AR-15 and flashed an advance signal to Nathan and Jake. He gave Raven the same signal and, forming a perimeter, the four closed in on the camp.

  After scanning the woods with the scope on his bow, Raven followed the order. He kept low, almost in a hunch, his finger on the outside of the trigger guard.

  Colton vanished behind a tree in Raven’s peripheral. He lost sight of Jake and Nathan a moment later. Keeping to the left, Raven caught his first glimpse of the camp. There were several t-shirts and pairs of pants drying on a clothesline strung between two pine trees. A fire pit with a grate and a pot on top was smoking in the center of the camp.

  He worked his way closer, step by step, and hugged the trunk of a tree. Pushing his scope to his eye, he followed a man with shoulder-length blond hair, his back turned to the trees. As soon as he grabbed the lid of the pot, Colton shouted and burst into the camp with his rifle pointed at the man’s face.

  “Freeze!” Jake shouted.

  Nathan limped out of the foliage, the men closing in from opposite directions to trap their quarry. Raven followed with his bow raised.

  The man at the pot held up his hands, one of them still holding the lid. He backed away from the fire, eyes roving from side to side. “What the hell?” he shouted. “I wasn’t trying to steal it, I swear. We’re just so hungry!”

  “Shut up!” Colton yelled back.

  Raven caught a glimpse of a second person emerging from the woods to his left. He aimed his crossbow at a woman that dropped the bundle of sticks she was carrying.

  “Don’t shoot!” she yelled.

  Raven lowered his bow and pivoted back to the man at the fire pit. The officers and Nathan were closing in, weapons held steady.

  “On your knees,” Colton ordered.

  The blond man slowly got down as instructed. “Take it easy. If this is your camp, then I’m sorry. Like I said, we were just looking for—”

  Nathan
plucked a pistol from the back of the man’s jeans. He tossed it to Colton, who snatched it expertly from the air and looked it over.

  “Nice piece,” he said. “You planning on shooting someone today?”

  Jake motioned with two fingers to the woman. “Ma’am, please come over here and get down on the ground with your hands over your head.”

  “What the hell is this about?” she asked. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “This guy isn’t our chase,” Raven said.

  The man looked up from his knees. “Chase? What the hell are you talking about? We weren’t chasing anyone.”

  “Shut up,” Colton said.

  It was obvious these people weren’t killers, but clearly Colton wasn’t taking any chances. He handcuffed the man, despite the guy’s continued stream of protests, while Jake did the same to the woman.

  “What are your names?” Colton asked.

  “Kirk. This is my wife, Sally.” He glanced up, blue eyes pleading. “Please don’t arrest us. We were just looking for something to eat.”

  They were both filthy, faces and hands covered in dirt. They looked like they’d been through a tough ordeal.

  “We’re wasting time,” Raven said, agitated.

  “Hold on a second,” Colton snapped.

  Raven whistled for Creek and circled the camp as Colton interrogated the couple. Two sets of clothes, both men’s, and a couple of old towels and a single sleeping bag. Nothing much to tell him who had been living up here. Idly, he peered into the pot.

  “C-colton.” Raven choked out.

  “What?” The chief looked over at him, and something about Raven’s expression must have shaken him. “Christ, Raven, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Not a ghost, he thought. A spirit. I was right all along. The Water Cannibals are here.

  Inside the pot, floating above some mushy, overcooked vegetables, was a livid human hand that ended in a ragged, blackened stump.

  Colton looked in the pot and then grimaced in horror and disgust. “Jake, I think we just found Mollie Harm’s missing hand.”

  -21-

  “What do you mean you found a hand?” Kirk asked for the fourth time.

  Colton spat on the ground as he unlocked the cuffs on Kirk’s hands. “Get out of here and don’t come back. It’s not safe up here.”

  “Where are we supposed to go?” Kirk asked. “We were robbed at gunpoint yesterday. Bastards took our bicycles. We walked here, but your people turned us away this morning. We hiked through the woods and found this campsite.”

  Kirk massaged his wrists and walked over to his wife. She was sitting on a log, whimpering and rocking back and forth.

  Colton placed the cuffs back on his duty belt and took a moment to think. According to Raven, their killer had to be a Native American. Probably Cherokee, given the origin of the legend, but he was less certain on that point. This couple had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  “Go to the Stanley Inn,” Colton said. “Tell Jim that Chief Colton sent you. Know how to get there from here?”

  “Thank you,” Kirk said, nodding enthusiastically. “Oh God, thank you!”

  Sally stopped rocking. “You can’t just send us out there alone!” Kirk tried to soothe her, but she shouted, “We almost ate someone’s hand, you asshole! Do NOT tell me to calm down.”

  Kirk looked hopefully at Colton. “Can I have my gun back?”

  With a grunt, Colton tossed it to him, and the terrified couple sprinted into the trees without a backward glance.

  Raven was prowling the camp, sometimes crouching down to examine the dirt, sometimes studying a snapped tree branch or other, less obvious signs. He knew the man must be desperate to find his sister, but Colton didn’t want to run off into the woods half-cocked. Things weren’t adding up. If this was their killer’s lair, why had he let these people live?

  “We need to keep moving, Chief,” Raven said. He jogged over, Creek at his heels.

  Colton gestured for the other men to join them. Raven pulled off his baseball cap and folded the brim before putting it back on his head.

  “I found three sets of tracks leading into the mountains,” he said. “Two belong to that couple, and one is a large man’s boot print. But it doesn’t look very fresh, and Creek hasn’t found any trace of Allie or Sandra.”

  “Do you think this is our killer’s camp?” Jake asked.

  “I do, but he’s not here.” Raven said. He shot a glance at Colton and then continued. “We might need to split up. The note said something about the underworld. I think that means the tunnels beneath the mountain, but I could be wrong.”

  “Those have been closed off for years,” Colton said.

  “The other possibility is the tramway. That could be the nest. I think we should cover both places, just in case,” Raven said. Beside him, Creek wined and pawed the ground.

  “No,” Colton said, holding up a hand to cut off Raven’s protests. “We stick together. The tramway sounds more likely than the tunnels. We’ll head there.”

  “Fine, but let’s move now,” Raven said. He motioned for Creek and led the way out of the camp. The team worked their way through the forest for fifteen minutes. Colton’s boots sank into the damp pine needles with every step, leaving behind clear tracks. If someone had been here before them, surely they would have left a trail.

  He looked up to see Raven crest a hill and freeze like a statue. Colton carefully walked up the ridge until he was standing a few feet behind the tracker. He slowly took a knee, his joints creaking. They were almost to the tramway. From here, the pine trees thinned out, allowing Colton to see farther. Fallen trees and boulders covered in moss dotted the terrain. He scanned the area systematically, just like he’d been trained. Glancing over at Raven, he realized the man was doing the exact same thing.

  The storm had rolled to the east and the cloudless sky was ocean blue over the mountain that was a collage of changing colors. His gaze moved from left to right, but there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary. No glint of metal or smoke, and no people other than themselves.

  Raven stopped at a tree and motioned for Colton. Creek was sitting on his haunches, looking up at his handler.

  “Creek’s picked up a scent,” Raven said quietly. “It could be them. I think we’re getting close.”

  Colton flashed an advance signal to Nathan and Jake. Both men were one hundred feet to the east, using the cover of trees on the ridgeline.

  Raven moved north, raising his crossbow as he scanned the tramway. Colton would always prefer a gun to a bow, but he had to admit that Raven was pretty good with the thing.

  Creek prowled through the foliage, muzzle sniffing the dirt. He weaved back and forth, picking up the invisible skin rafts blowing on the wind. Maybe, when this was all over, Colton would see about enlisting Raven and Creek as Estes Park’s K-9 unit.

  Colton stepped over a fallen tree and jogged through a patch of yellow wildflowers. Raven stopped again, squatting to check a pair of tracks. Colton did the same.

  “Looks like they separate here,” Raven said. “See that?”

  Colton checked the footprints. Both appeared to be male, judging by the size. The two sets curved off in different directions.

  “Either of these could be our chase,” Raven said. “But I don’t see any smaller prints. Nothing to indicate Sandra and Allie came this way.”

  Colton stood and waved at Nathan and Jake. They met under the cover of a grove of pine trees. A cool breeze shifted the branches around them, the canopy whispering to itself. Normally, the sound was reassuring, but Colton was too on edge to appreciate it.

  “Nathan, Jake,” Colton whispered. “We’re going to have to split up after all. The tracks split off in two different directions.”

  Nathan looked up at the tramway. “Whatever we do, let’s hurry.”

  “You and Jake continue west,” Colton said. “Raven and I will head east.”

  Nathan and Jake nodded and h
ad turned to go when the sharp pop of gunshots rang out. Colton spun in that direction with his AR-15. He put the scope to his eye and roved the crosshairs across the southern stretch of forest. Unless he was mistaken, the shots sounded like they’d come from the campsite.

  “Head west with Nathan,” Colton told Jake. “Raven and I will check this out.”

  Colton took off into the trees, hoping that Kirk and Sally hadn’t returned to the camp instead of heading to the Stanley. Raven whistled at Creek and fell into a run. It only took a few seconds for the Akita to overtake them both. He moved with graceful ease over the steep terrain, dodging rocks and springing like a rabbit on his powerful back legs. Colton, on the other hand, could hardly breathe. He wasn’t used to running like this. Kelly was always trying to get him to exercise more, but he had gotten out of the habit after coming home from his last tour of duty.

  Loose rocks tumbled down the hill as Colton ran down the slope. He threw the strap of his rifle over his back and pulled his Colt .45.

  Raven leapt nimbly over a rock. He ran with the grace of a trail runner. Vultures continued to circle overhead. Their calls were growing louder as the raptors swooped lower. The pop of gunfire hadn’t sounded for several minutes. Whatever had happened, Colton feared he was too late to help.

  I shouldn’t have sent Kirk and Sally away on their own.

  If something had happened to the couple, it was on him.

  Colton ran faster, ducking under branches and scraping against tree trunks. Lungs straining for air, muscles burning, and sweat pouring down his face, he felt like he was back in Afghanistan. A branch caught him in the face. He swatted it away with his hand and bolted toward the clearing of the campsite. When he was clear of the trees, he realized Raven and Creek were nowhere in sight.

  Colton tried to steady his breathing. He slowed to a walk, his pistol angled slightly downward. He scanned the path in front of him, looking for hazards and planning each footstep before he made it. He halted and raked the barrel over the camp. A figure was moving in the tall weeds, crawling on its belly.

  It was Sally.