Trackers Omnibus [Books 1-4]

by Smith, Nicholas Sansbury

  “Who’s in charge?” Sandra asked.

  “Don Aragon.”

  Sandra sniffed. “That guy is a piece of work.”

  “It was his idea to execute the Todds,” Colton said. “Well, him and Mayor Gail.”

  “That’s one thing we agree on, then. Now people will know what happens when you mess with Estes Park.”

  “You sound just like them,” Colton said with a shake of his head. He put one hand on his duty belt and the other on the grip of his pistol, and turned to look at the sky.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m sick of people like the Todds, Mr. Redford, and Brown Feather thinking they can just take whatever they want.”

  Colton nodded like he understood.

  “We’ll be fine,” she continued. “Go home and spend some time with your family.”

  “I’ll stop by the medical center tomorrow and check on everything there,” Colton said. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight,” Sandra replied. Using her toes, she pushed the swing. It rocked back and forth. Creek watched Colton from the dirt at the bottom of the porch, ears perked. Allie came back outside and sat down beside Sandra. She chewed on a half of a peanut butter sandwich.

  “When is Uncle Raven going to come home?” Allie asked.

  “Soon, baby. Soon.” Sandra stroked her daughter’s hair and studied the dazzling stars in the black bowl overhead. She loved it out here. Estes Park had been a haven from her past, a place where she could start over and raise Allie among good people.

  At least, it had been a haven. Things were different now. The violence and fear had stripped away her peace of mind.

  Her eyes flitted from the stars to the shotgun propped up against the siding. She doubted Mr. Redford would come back, but she was prepared if he did. She wasn’t scared of him, especially after being kidnapped by Brown Feather. Nothing could be worse than that.

  A falling star caught her eye. It streaked over the jagged teeth of the mountains to the east.

  “Wow, did you see that?” Allie asked, sitting up.

  Another meteorite broke through the atmosphere and tore through the sky, leaving behind a trail of fire.

  “Is that the Raven Mocker, Mama?” Allie asked.

  Sandra pulled her hand from around her daughter’s back. “What? Who told you about the Raven Mocker?”

  “Um… Uncle Raven did?”

  “Of course he did,” Sandra said with a frown.

  Allie looked at the sky with curious eyes. “Does that mean someone is dying out there?”

  Sandra shook her head. “It’s just a story. It’s not real.”

  “Will you tell it to me?”

  “No, it’s too scary.”

  Sandra relaxed against the cushion. She used her feet to push off again, the swing creaking back and forth.

  “I promise I won’t get scared,” Allie said.

  Creek lifted his head to look at them as though he wanted to hear the story too.

  “Please?” Allie begged.

  “Fine,” Sandra said. She pulled Allie close, using her arm as a wing.

  “The Raven Mocker is a witch from an old Cherokee tale. It was used to explain meteorites and falling stars, which is what we’re seeing now.”

  “A witch? Like in The Wizard of Oz?”

  “This is a male witch—a man who takes the form of fire when he sails through the sky, leaving behind sparks and making a sound like a high wind.”

  “I don’t hear any wind,” Allie said.

  “That’s because those are just shooting stars and not the Raven Mocker. The story says he appears at night when someone is dying.”

  “Do you think Uncle Raven is dying?”

  Sandra reared back at the question. “Allie, no! Why would you say that?”

  Creek let out another low whine and moved up the steps to sit next to the swing.

  “It’s okay, boy,” Sandra said. She reached down to pat his head. “I know you miss Raven. I miss him, too.”

  Sandra looked back to the sky just as another falling star streaked over the mountains. This time she heard the rushing of the wind.

  — 18 —

  Raven zoomed in on the Humvees and the pickup trucks that surrounded Nathan on all sides. Soldiers fanned out across the camp with their weapons at the ready, some of them yelling orders. For skinhead pricks, these guys seemed way more organized than Raven had expected. Where the hell had they gotten all of these old vehicles and bikes? It was like they were prepared for the EMP attack…

  Or hoping for the attack, Raven mused.

  He centered the crosshairs of the MK11 on the man closest to Nathan. The pilot was sprawled on the ground, having been hit several times with brass knuckles. There wasn’t anything Raven could do from here but watch. If he opened fire now, he was liable to hit Nathan.

  Rounds suddenly lanced away from the camp, kicking up dirt and pinging off the boulders all around Raven. He lunged for cover and flattened his body just as another volley of bullets slammed into the other side of the rock.

  He was really in trouble now. He cursed as he wiggled across the ground like a damn worm. If he did somehow manage to make it out of this one, he was going to reconsider his choice of career. Tracking had not been working out lately—all he ever seemed to find these days was trouble.

  Rounds whizzed overhead. Dirt and chunks of rock rained down on his body. He pulled himself behind another boulder and looked up. He wasn’t far from the ledge he’d shimmied down earlier. He could climb up and make a run for it through the woods, but where the hell was he going to go after that?

  Headlights streaked across the road below. Now motorcycles and dirt bikes were heading his way. He counted four of them and then ducked back down as a bullet speared the air six inches above his head.

  Rounds cut into the hillside. The bark of an M240 joined the chorus of war. They really wanted him dead if they were wasting that much ammo. He mastered his breathing and prepared to move.

  You got this, Raven. You got this. Because if you don’t got this, you’re dead.

  He scrabbled up the dirt slope. Then he jumped onto the ledge and rolled to relative safety. Rounds hit the hillside he had just abandoned, and cut through the trees overhead.

  He changed the magazine in the MK11 while he was on his stomach and then pushed himself up to run through the dense forest. The chug of old motorcycles filled the air as they made their way up the road and through the valley. An idea seeded in his mind, and instead of running away from the road, he ran toward it.

  Raven’s crossbow and backpack were right where he’d left them next to a tree. If he was going to make his plan work, he was going to have to do this fast. He pulled a rope from his pack, unspooled it, and tied one end around the base of a ponderosa pine.

  The gunfire continued on the other side of the hill to his right, and several rounds splintered through the trees. Headlights hit the top of the road ahead. He was running out of time.

  Raven darted across with the rope in hand. When he reached the other side, he wrapped it around the thickest tree he could find.

  The first dirt bike zoomed over the hill.

  Raven waited for the next two bikes to appear. They were both motorcycles, a Harley and a Honda. He raised the rope and pulled it taut, careful not to get his hand caught. The drivers hit the rope at full speed, and they went flying head first over the handlebars. The fourth driver pulled over the hill and laid his bike down to avoid the wreckage. His body skidded over the pavement, but he kept his head up like a trained biker would have done.

  Dropping the rope, Raven grabbed his crossbow and walked out onto the road. The first biker slowed and turned in a circle, tires skidding across the pavement, to look at his fallen comrades. His helmet homed in on Raven just as he let a bolt fly. The arrow crunched through his visor.

  Raven tossed the crossbow on the ground, unsheathed his hatchet, and uppercut the fourth biker as he was trying to stand. The blade cracked through his jaw and shattered his bottom
teeth. He let out a guttural screech that sounded more animalistic than human.

  He left the blade in the man’s chin, pulled his Glock, and finished him off with two shots to the back. Then he aimed at the drivers of bikes two and three. Both men were squirming across the ground, moaning and dragging broken legs.

  Raven put a bullet into each of their skulls and then decided to double tap the trigger just to make sure they were dead since they were wearing helmets. The gunshots echoed away and silence fell over the road. He holstered the pistol and retrieved his hatchet. It took a good yank to pluck it from the man’s chin. Several more teeth popped out in the process, splattering his pants with blood. He grabbed his backpack and MK11 from the shoulder of the road and paused to listen for more bikes.

  The gunfire from the camp had ceased, and he couldn’t hear any engines.

  The crackle of a single radio broke the silence. He followed the noise to the fourth bike, a Harley with saddlebags. Inside one was a walkie-talkie. Raven tucked it into his vest. Then he hoisted the bike up, jumped on, and drove to the top of the hill. He unslung his MK11 and zoomed in on the camp.

  It took him a moment to find Nathan. He was lying in the back of a truck, and he wasn’t moving. Three other trucks pulled away, while a small army of foot soldiers fanned out across the meadows and road below. Raven lowered his gun and threw the strap over his backpack.

  “Don’t worry, brother. I’ll be back with help,” he whispered. He pulled a grenade from his pack, plucked off the pin, and tossed it over his shoulder at the other wrecked bikes. Gunning the engine of the Harley, tires screaming, he peeled away.

  ***

  “How are we coming on the hunt for the other sub?” Charlize asked.

  “We’ve got four HSM squadrons checking several potential zones as we speak,” Thor said. “It’s just a matter of time before we find the other sub.”

  “Good. It’s time to go on the offensive, General. I don’t care if we cross into sovereign waters. Our goal right now is to wipe the final North Korean threats off the map so we can focus on saving what’s left of our country.”

  She looked back down at her laptop. Her eyes were grainy as she tried to focus them on yet another briefing. She had been sitting in this cold conference room with General Thor, Dr. Lundy, and Colonel Raymond for hours while she waited for news about her family. In the meantime, they had brought her up to speed on everything from military assets to the aid packages coming from abroad. America’s allies were coming through with food, medical supplies, and other necessities, but distributing them was a problem. Their closest neighbors were also having problems with American refugees spilling across the Mexican and Canadian borders.

  She finished reading a report about the status of the highway system in the Southeast and shut her laptop to look at her team. “Listen up, everyone. Aside from taking out the North Korean threats, we have to focus on clearing the roads and stopping the gangs and raiders from taking over. The Aryan group that has my son are not the only domestic terrorists out there that were waiting for something like this to happen.”

  “Agreed,” Thor said. “But how do we clear thousands of miles with the resources we currently have?”

  “Put together a special task force,” Charlize replied. “Equip our semis and convoys with bulldozer blades, and send out troops to guard each shipment. We did that in Afghanistan, and we can do it here.”

  Raymond drew in a weary breath. “The problem with that is the fleeing refugees. You’ve seen the video. It’s easy clearing a road full of vehicles, but people are a different story.”

  “We risk civilian casualties by expediting the movement of supplies,” Thor said, direct and unsympathetic as always. “One way or the other, we lose American lives.”

  Charlize paused to think. Commanding troops was more difficult than flying a fighter jet solo. The last thing she wanted was to put more civilians in harm’s way, but it was starting to feel like there were no good solutions.

  “May I offer a more subtle approach?” Lundy asked, speaking up for the first time.

  “Certainly,” Charlize said.

  He took off his glasses, polished them on a small cloth, and put them back on again. He was methodical about everything, and he spoke in a precise, clipped tone. “We could place radiation warnings in areas we’re trying to clear. There’s nothing like a biohazard symbol to keep people out.”

  “That’s not a bad idea,” Thor said before Charlize could reply. His eyes flitted to her for approval.

  “I like it,” she said. “Now let’s—”

  A rap on the door interrupted her. Albert stepped into the room without waiting for a response. Typically he kept a straight face, but now he was frowning, his eyes huge and worried.

  “What’s wrong?” she choked out.

  “I’ve been told we have another video from General Fenix.” Albert walked over and stood next to her. “The video should be on your computer, ma’am.”

  Charlize had thrown up after the last video. The image of Ty dangling over the side of that tower wouldn’t leave her mind. Thor and Raymond stood and walked over as she typed in her credentials. The email was waiting in her new inbox. Swallowing, she moved the cursor over and clicked on the message.

  The video was not of Ty. It showed a battered man on the concrete floor of a small prison cell. He was curled up in a fetal position, broken arm in a cast covering his face.

  The camera panned up to a smiling General Fenix. “I thought I was very clear about what I wanted. At first I thought the assholes that attacked us were just two idiots, but then I realized one of those idiots was your brother.”

  The feed moved back to the man on the floor. He tilted his head up to reveal a bruised face she hardly recognized. Raising a hand, the man shielded his swollen eyes from the light.

  “Nathan,” she whispered.

  Fenix moved back into the frame and kicked Nathan in the gut, lifting his body slightly off the ground. Her brother spat blood onto the concrete and then looked back up at the camera.

  “Don’t give ‘em anything, Sis,” he said, his voice thick.

  “The clock is ticking, and things are not looking good for the Montgomery family,” Fenix said. He raised his boot again. The video cut out just before it connected with Nathan’s jaw.

  ***

  Ty sat on his bed, listening to the screams coming from the hallway outside the room. The sound was scary, but maybe it was a good thing. If so many people were hurt all at once, it must mean there was fighting nearby. And if the Castle was under attack, then maybe someone had come to rescue him. Maybe his mom had finally found them!

  A voice shouted over the screaming.

  “They caught one of them,” the voice said.

  Footfalls approached the door to the cell. Ty put a finger to his lips, and Micah cupped his hand over Emma’s mouth.

  “Come on, we need to round up every available man just in case they come back,” called a frantic voice.

  “I heard we lost six of our boys,” said another man.

  “They brought a fucking army, man. Got snipers all along the ridge. We have to find them before they can report our location.”

  A high-pitched screech of agony sounded. “Stop, no, stop, stoppppp!”

  Ty put his hands over his ears and watched the other kids do the same. By the time he pulled them away, the voices and the footfalls were gone, leaving only the sporadic wailing from the hospital down the hallway.

  The minutes ticked away as Ty watched the door and waited for his mom to come rescue him. An hour passed, maybe more. The screaming stopped, and then the only sound was the plop of water in the bucket by the metal door. The shock of everything that had happened slowly wore off, and fatigue wrapped Ty up like a blanket. His eyelids felt heavy and droopy, but he forced them to stay open so he could watch the door.

  She’s coming. She’ll be here any minute.

  Ty looked down at his shaking hands and laced his fingers together. He
wasn’t sure what time it was exactly, but it felt like early morning. How long had he been awake? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept.

  You have to stay awake. You have to be ready to go.

  Micah and Emma had fallen asleep in the bed across from him. They were curled up next to one another. Seeing them made Ty even more tired.

  Maybe he could close his eyes for just a second.

  As soon as he did, sleep took him.

  Ty wasn’t sure how long he slept. A voice woke him up, and he groggily blinked and looked around.

  “Ty, wake up. Someone’s coming,” Micah said from the other side of the room. “Is it the good guys?”

  The rap of military boots sounded in the hallway.

  “Which room is it?” someone asked.

  This voice didn’t sound familiar to Ty. He used his hands to move his legs closer to the edge of the bed. His wheelchair was out of reach, but he wanted to be ready.

  Another sound like something being dragged across the ground joined the rap of boots outside. The footfalls stopped just outside the door.

  The hatch unlocked, and General Fenix stood in the shadowed entry, partially blocking the view of a battered man on the ground in the hallway. Ty moved slightly for a better view, but couldn’t see past Fenix or the soldier that had the injured guy by the boots.

  “I brought you a visitor, little Mr. Montgomery.” Fenix helped the other soldier drag the bleeding man inside the room.

  “Go ahead, have a look,” Fenix said. “He came a long way to see you.”

  It took Ty a second to recognize his uncle, due to all of the cuts and bruises on his face.

  “Uncle Nathan!” Ty yelled.

  Nathan looked up at Ty, one eye so swollen he probably couldn’t even see. He tried to talk, but all that came out was a groan. Fenix kicked him in the ribs.

  “No!” Ty shouted. “Don’t touch him, you bastard!”

  Uncle Nathan looked up again, determined.

  “I love you, Ty, and so does your mom.” He coughed and spat something dark onto the floor. “Everything is going to be okay.”