Trackers Omnibus [Books 1-4]

by Smith, Nicholas Sansbury

  And just like that, the first blood of the night soaked into the soil. Shock gripped Albert, freezing him in place. They had only left the camp a few minutes ago, and a life had already been taken.

  “You bastards!” the woman screeched. “You’re supposed to help us!”

  The words stung Albert like a bee. She was right, and it was all beginning to sink in, right now, right here in the woods. He was a firm believer the government had a duty to protect its citizens, but the combination of the EMP and nuclear attack had crippled the United States beyond repair. People tended to forget he was there listening, despite his massive bulk, and they said things he wasn’t supposed to hear. He’d heard plenty while Charlize was being briefed. There was no coming back from this; there was only surviving by any means possible.

  “Let’s move, Randall,” Van Dyke said.

  Albert pushed onward through the underbrush, more determined than ever to find his sister. He’d drag Jacqueline kicking and screaming from this madness if he had to.

  He picked up his pace as he followed the two soldiers into the inky green darkness, doing his best not to make any noise. Through the fence of limbs and branches, he glimpsed the residential area. They were almost there.

  A shot rang out in the distance, but Albert couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Van Dyke and Flint halted at the edge of the forest, crouching down and waiting. He leaned against a tree when he got to them, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his forehead.

  The sporadic gunfire evened into a steady flurry of different calibers.

  “That’s coming from the other side of the camp,” Albert said, still trying to catch his breath.

  “Goddamn,” Flint said. He drew up and walked a step back into the forest as if a magnet were pulling him toward the airport.

  “The food shipment must have been hit,” Van Dyke said. “Maybe we should go back and help.”

  Albert hesitated. They were almost a quarter of the way to the city, and he needed these soldiers to help him get the rest of the way there. Flint and Van Dyke exchanged a few hushed words while Albert stood guard, his heart beating in sync with the gun battle.

  “Harris gave us orders,” Flint said.

  “Shit don’t work the same way it used to, Sarge,” Van Dyke replied.

  Flint moved over closer to Van Dyke and said something that Albert couldn’t make out. Van Dyke seemed to slouch at whatever Flint had said, the fight gone out of him.

  “Come on, let’s keep moving,” Flint said.

  Van Dyke glared up at Albert for a long second before squeezing past.

  — 7 —

  “Got room for a third?” came a familiar voice.

  The words sent a chill up Colton’s spine. He shut the lift gate to the 1952 Chevy pickup truck and turned to see if it was really Raven.

  It was.

  Standing in the moonlight, a hand on his side, Raven flashed a wide pearly grin. Creek came trotting around the side of town hall, right behind his handler, ears and tail up.

  “Uh, aren’t you supposed to be in the hospital?” Lindsey asked. She dropped her backpack into the bed of the truck and joined Colton with her arms folded across her chest.

  “The guy I shot should be in the hospital—or six feet under—but he’s not, and I’m not lying around waiting for him to get caught,” Raven said.

  His wide smile didn’t deceive Colton—he was injured, and injured bad. A man didn’t take three bullets to a vest, have part of an ear blown off, and get knocked unconscious, and then expect to be walking less than half a day later.

  Most men, anyway, Colton thought. Then again, Raven had proven to be one tough son of a bitch. He’d been stabbed, beaten, and shot in the past month. Colton wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or worried.

  “What did the doc really say about you getting out of bed?” Colton asked, knowing he wasn’t going to get a straight answer.

  “Said I’m good to go and that I should be out here tracking this asshole down,” Raven said. “I just need my gear. What’d you do with it?”

  Colton could see by the determined look in Raven’s dark eyes that there was no arguing with the man. Lindsey, however, wasn’t done with her interrogation yet.

  “And what about your sister?” she asked. “Did she say it was okay to come out here with us?”

  “No.” Raven’s voice was firm and a little cold.

  “You lost the top of your ear, for God’s sake,” Colton said, examining the side of Raven’s head.

  Raven turned away and touched the bandage. “I said I’m good, man.”

  “Okay, Sam, whatever you say,” Colton said. He picked another backpack up and slung it into the truck. “But you’re still not coming with. You need to sit this one out. We can find this guy on our own.”

  Raven’s grin vanished in an instant. He staggered forward, his hand falling away from his tactical vest. “Bullshit. You haven’t caught him yet. You need my help before he kills anyone else. You’re dealing with a pro, Marcus.”

  Lindsey and Colton exchanged a glance.

  “You think this guy is a professional?” Lindsey asked.

  Colton heaved a long and deep sigh. He’d hoped their chase was just lucky, but Raven was probably right. The man had managed to avoid every officer and volunteer looking for him in Estes Park, despite being wounded.

  “Fine, Sam. Grab your gear and meet me back here in five minutes. It’s in your locker inside the station,” Colton said.

  A hint of a smile returned on Raven’s face as he hurried off toward the back entrance of the police station. Creek stayed put, watching Lindsey and Colton finish packing the truck while Raven retrieved his weapons.

  “He better not slow us down,” Colton said.

  Lindsey shrugged. “We’re talking about Raven, Chief.”

  Colton started the pickup truck. The back door to the police station swung open and Raven walked out wearing a black coat, leather gloves, boots, and a stocking cap over his long hair. Instead of a rifle, he held his crossbow, and a pistol was holstered at his side.

  Lindsey jumped into the passenger seat, and Raven climbed into the back with Creek. The truck rolled out of the parking lot, engine rattling and rusted underbody scraping the cement. The noise attracted the attention of the refugees in Bond Park. Most of the people were huddling around the fires in the old barrels from the junkyard. A few them shared bowls of soup provided by volunteers working in coordination with his officers. Jennie and the orphan girl, Sarah both stood and watched the truck drive past.

  For now, these people were safe, but he still wasn’t sure what he was going to do with them. He glanced in the rearview mirror at Raven, who sat with his back to the cab, stroking Creek’s head. It was just after nine o’clock and the temperature had dropped into the forties. The ground would freeze tonight. The refugees would need shelter from the cold.

  Lindsey loaded her weapons while Colton drove down the empty streets. Most of the residents were inside their houses, keeping warm, but everyone that knew how to use a weapon had been assigned a roadblock or critical facility to protect. After today’s attack, Colton wasn’t taking any chances. Until he managed to find some allies, he had conscripted every able man, woman, and kid old enough to fire a gun into service.

  They were coming up on one of those roadblocks now. The first person Colton saw was Dale Jackson, and to his right was Heath Minor, the eighteen-year-old star quarterback of the high school football team. Colton knew Heath’s dad and had even gone hunting with them a few times. He eased off the gas and held a hand up as he passed. Dale nodded, but Heath simply stared at the truck, a dumbfounded look in his eyes—the look of a boy thrown into war when he should have been off chasing girls and drinking beer.

  After steering through the gap in the concrete barriers, Colton pushed down on the gas and sped out toward the Rocky Mountains. Behind them, Dale and Heath shoved the concrete barriers back into place and resumed their positions.

  Lindsey finishe
d her gear check and looked over. “Have you thought any more about those refugees, Chief?”

  “I haven’t decided yet,” he replied. “Let’s focus on finding this guy first.”

  She fidgeted uneasily in the old seat. He could tell she had something to say, but she remained silent, waiting for him to ask.

  “Let’s hear it, kiddo.”

  “I don’t like it when you call me that, Chief. Detective Plymouth. Or Lindz, if you want. That’s what my friends call me.”

  “I’m sorry, sometimes I just think of you as a…”

  “Kid?” Lindsey shrugged. “Yeah, I get it, but hopefully I’ve proved that I can take care of myself by now.” She shook her head and looked out the window.

  “You have, but I don’t want to see anything happen to you. I’m not sure I could forgive myself.”

  “Like I said, I can take care of myself.”

  Colton didn’t reply. Lindsey didn’t often talk about friends or family back home. Her life before arriving in Estes Park was a closed book, but he hoped that one day she would open up. If we live that long, he thought wryly.

  Colton pulled out a toothpick from his vest and wedged it into the side of his mouth. They were coming up on the entrance to the park. The headlights hit the ranger station a moment later. As the truck climbed up toward Trail Ridge Road, the drab landscape became a white winter wonderland. Pine trees were coated with snow, their branches weighed down. The road turned to reveal a view of the Rocky Mountains, their snow-brushed peaks glowing under the light of the moon.

  “Over there,” Lindsey said, pointing at a Volkswagen Beetle.

  Colton steered to the right and parked behind the car in the lot behind Beaver Meadows. A herd of elk were grazing nearby. As Colton and Lindsey approached, they all looked up, ears perking.

  Colton flipped on his flashlight and pulled out his map. He flattened it on the hood of the truck.

  “Officer Hines and Tim Beedie are on this trail to the northeast. There are other patrols combing the resort area just in case our suspect went that way,” Colton said, pointing. “We’ll take this trail to the southwest.”

  Raven nodded and whistled at Creek. “Time’s wasting, Chief,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Lindsey followed Raven across the gravel road and into the snowy field. Colton grabbed his gear and then jogged to catch up, gripped by a moment of déjà vu. A month ago, the night everything had gone to hell, they’d set off to find Melissa Stone. Brown Feather had been watching them then, and Colton felt that same sensation of eyes on his back now. He turned, raking his beam over the area, but all he saw was skeletal trees and snow.

  ***

  Charlize arrived at Constellation shortly before midnight. She hurried through the hallways of the underwater bunker, guided by the pair of armed guards that had accompanied her on the flight. It felt odd not having Albert with her.

  “I won’t be long,” she said to the two soldiers. “Please tell General Thor I’m on my way.”

  They nodded and continued walking down the white hallway, boots clicking on the tiled floor. She unlocked the door to her quarters and walked into the carpeted living space furnished with a small dining room table and love seat. A kitchenette with a sink, stove, and dorm-sized fridge took up the western corner of the room.

  This was home now, and would be for the foreseeable future. It sure as hell beat the conditions back at the airport in Charlotte. Many of those people would have literally killed for a place like this.

  She crossed the room and opened the door to the only bedroom. To her surprise, Ty was wide awake, sitting in his wheelchair between the two twin beds. He was reading a book called Gates of Fire by Stephen Pressfield so intently that he didn’t notice her presence at first. She knew President Diego was waiting on her, but she hadn’t seen her son this peaceful for a very long time, and took a moment to watch him.

  He finally looked up and said, “Mom! When did you get back?”

  “You’re supposed to be in bed, mister,” Charlize said. She stepped into the room and walked over to Ty.

  He closed his book and smiled, his cheeks dimpling. “I wanted to stay up until you got home. An officer came by earlier saying you were on your way.”

  “I’m sorry I was gone for so long, but Albert and I had an important mission.”

  “It’s okay.” Ty shrugged and placed his book on his lap. “It’s just…every time I fall asleep, I think I’m back there. With him.”

  She sat on the bed in front of him and took his hands. They felt so small in hers.

  “You’re safe now, and I’m never going to let anyone hurt you again,” she said soothingly. “He will pay for what he’s done.” She didn’t like saying the so-called general’s name out loud, but they both knew who she was talking about.

  Ty bowed his head, shaggy hair falling over his forehead. “When do I get to see Emma and Micah? Are they okay?”

  Charlize didn’t know how to answer the question. The kids that had been rescued from the Castle had been taken to various locations, and she wasn’t even sure where Ty’s friends had ended up.

  “I’ll find out where they are, okay?” she said.

  Ty nodded and looked up. “I really miss Uncle Nathan.”

  “Me, too. And I promise we’re going to punish the man that took him from us.”

  Sniffling, Ty reached up and wiped his nose. “You better, Mom. I told General Fenix you would come for him. I told him he would be sorry.”

  “We don’t call him that,” Charlize said. “He doesn’t deserve the respect of a title. And he will be, soon.” She helped Ty into bed and pulled the sheets up over his thin legs. He tugged them up over his chest and smiled.

  “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too. Now go to sleep, sweetie.”

  “Aren’t you going to bed?”

  “I’ve got some more work to do, but I promise I won’t be gone too long.”

  Ty’s lips moved, twisting into a frown, but he didn’t reply.

  Feeling guilty, she said, “I’ll stay with you until you’re asleep.”

  Charlize ran her hand through his hair. His breathing slowed and his eyelids fluttered until they were closed. Within a couple of minutes, Ty was fast asleep. She tucked the sheets in tightly and then left the room, slowly shutting the door behind her.

  By the time she arrived at Central Command, the cabinet meeting was already underway. She paused in the main chamber, unsure which conference room she needed to find. The multilevel room was set up like an auditorium. Officers and staff were working on each level and at every station to monitor events across the country and the world.

  Colonel Mark Raymond stood at the bottom of the stairs dividing the two levels of operations. The tall officer with a bulbous nose and thick brown hair was one of her favorites at Constellation.

  “Follow me please, ma’am,” Raymond said. He led her across the bottom floor, around several workstations, and past the war table set up in the center of the space. He opened the door to one of the conference rooms and gestured politely for her to go inside.

  “Colonel, will you get me a map showing the rail system in the United States?” she asked.

  “Certainly.”

  “Thank you.” She walked inside the room and did a quick scan. Secretary of State Lane Hudgins, a forty-five-year-old former tech CEO, sat at the end of the table next to Secretary of Health and Human Services Doctor Ellen Price, a stern-faced woman with shoulder-length brown hair. Price’s presence told Charlize something was up at the survival centers.

  “Ah, Secretary Montgomery, welcome home,” President Diego said as she entered. He stood and pointed toward the seat next to General Thor.

  She took a seat between General Thor and the new National Security Advisor, Duane Ibsen. The advisor looked up from his briefing to acknowledge her.

  “Good to see you safely returned from Charlotte. I presume you will have a full report shortly,” Diego said.

  “Yes, sir,
I do. But don’t let me interrupt.” She wanted to wait for the maps before she gave her briefing.

  “Please turn to page nineteen, Secretary Montgomery,” Thor said.

  Charlize opened the folder marked Classified in front of her. The usual charts of resources and memos about the survival centers filled the pages. There were death estimates put together by actuarial scientists that had previously worked for insurance companies and were now crunching the numbers of how many people would die by year’s end. She found page nineteen, opening it to see aerial images of North Korea.

  Thor cleared his throat and continued the briefing. “Our allies in the Pacific are on high alert for other North Korean submarines. Japan, South Korea, even our friends down under, are sending out warships. But so far the seas remain calm, with no indication the North Koreans have other subs out there.”

  “And no indication they were working with the Chinese?” Diego asked, a brow raised.

  Thor nodded firmly. “That’s correct, Mr. President. The Chinese have also been one of our biggest allies when it comes to aid shipments. If they wanted this to happen, they sure aren’t showing it.”

  Charlize remembered trailers back at the SC in Charlotte marked up in Chinese. Thor was right; the Chinese had gone above and beyond what any of them had expected, which seemed fishy to her.

  “The North Korean leadership still hasn’t emerged from their bunkers, but we’ve got constant surveillance in the area,” Thor added. “If any of those bastards survived, we will take them down eventually.”

  “What about casualties in South Korea?” Charlize asked.

  “Page twenty,” Thor said.

  Everyone in the room turned the page. This was the first time Charlize had seen any hard numbers. Her fears were confirmed when she saw the data. Their forces in the demilitarized zone had been decimated, but the civilian death toll was unimaginable.

  Colonel Raymond returned with a folder containing the rail system maps.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “I’ll turn it over to Ibsen for a report on Korea,” Thor said.