Tonight, the men were taking a break to celebrate their wins. It was time for the soldiers to sit back, drink, and relax. For Fenix, though, there was never time to relax. He had already lost enough time in Redford’s prison cell. Besides, Fenix was expecting company shortly.
He walked into the command center, where his men were starting a game of poker at the metal table. Beer cans littered the area where maps had been earlier. Horton watched with his arms folded across his chest while Fenix poured whiskey from a bottle into his flask.
“Have fun, gentlemen,” Fenix said, raising the flask.
“Not staying to lose your money, sir?” asked one of the men.
“Maybe next time.” Fenix grinned, took a slug, and retreated to his quarters, deciding he didn’t want to be too drunk when his new friends arrived.
When he got to his small room, he propped his feet up and nursed the flask in silence, listening to the hum of the generators. The noise was calming, and he rested his eyes.
Sometime later, he woke up and looked at his watch, cursing when he saw the time. He had to get topside, and fast. He hurried back to the area where his men were still playing cards. Two of them were shouting over a hand. Horton was standing between them to intervene. All three of them stood to attention when they saw Fenix. The room went silent.
“What the hell are you waiting for, Sergeant?” Fenix asked. “Are you ready or what?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I lost track of time.”
Fenix gestured for the men to return to their game. Normally he would have broken balls, but not tonight. These men deserved a break. They needed it. Even Nazis could get burned out on killing.
Horton hurried into the passage, and they took the first right to the stairs. Fenix went first, and fifteen minutes later he was at the top, his chest heaving and his head spinning from too much liquor. The door opened onto another passage, where a sentry named Miles was guarding the metal hatch that led outside.
Miles stiffened and raised his baldhead when he saw Fenix and Horton approaching.
“Good evening, sir,” Miles said. A patch dotted with blood covered the new tattoo on his neck. The tattoo gun was getting passed around at their base a lot these days.
Horton opened a small metal hatch that allowed him to peer outside. After a quick scan, he closed it and opened the door, letting in a gust of cold air. Fenix offered Miles the flask.
“Thank you, sir, but I’m on duty,” Miles said.
“It’s okay,” Fenix said, holding it out again.
Miles hesitated, took a slug, and passed it back to Fenix. The two men drank while they waited. A few minutes later, Horton returned.
“They’re here,” Horton said.
Fenix put his flask back into his pocket, then pulled out a cap and slapped it over his thick, slicked-back hair. He stepped out into the frigid air, taking in a breath to remind himself what freedom tasted like.
Horton continued down a rocky path leading around a bluff. Three more guards were posted at the end of the trail, crouched behind a rocky wall with their rifles and night vision goggles. They were all focused on the silhouette of a single pickup about a quarter mile away.
“That’s them, sir,” Horton said.
“They came alone,” one of the sentries reported.
“Good, but watch our backs,” Fenix said to the other men. He set off around the lookout with Horton following. The moon was out tonight, spreading a soft glow over the white landscape. He wasn’t worried about an ambush, but he was always wary. Secretary Montgomery was still on his trail, and wouldn’t give up until he was dead or in captivity. That’s what made tonight’s meeting so important.
It was time for the Sons of Liberty to ally with others fighting for the same cause—to bring down what was left of the federal government, and fight the damn Chinese.
Several flashlights flickered on as he approached the pickup. Three men, all dressed in black tactical clothes, walked toward Fenix and Horton.
One of the men stepped out in front of the others. “General Fenix?” he asked.
“That’s me,” Fenix reached out to shake his hand. “Welcome to our humble nuclear missile silo, Sheriff,” he said.
***
Albert took the satellite phone from Captain Harris and brought it to his lips.
“Hello, Secretary Montgomery, this is Albert,” he said.
“Good to hear your voice. I heard about the attack. Are you doing okay?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m fine. How is New York?”
“There was an attack here, too. I’m already back at Constellation, and General Lin has been moved to a secure location. He won’t be returning to the staging area there for the foreseeable future.”
Albert took a deep breath. He hated the idea of Charlize being in danger when he wasn’t there to shield her. “Were you hurt, ma’am? What happened?”
“This isn’t public yet, but the attack was orchestrated by a group of North Korean sleeper agents. We’re still trying to collect more details, but what we know now is that these terrorists were targeting Lin and I.”
“Are you hurt?” he repeated.
“I’m fine, but we lost a lot of good people, and so did the Chinese delegation.” She paused and then said, “I’m pulling you out of Charlotte. I need you here with me. There’s a chopper heading that way tomorrow, and I want you on it. Captain Harris will continue his mission without you.”
Albert looked to Harris, who nodded.
“Okay, ma’am,” Albert said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Stay safe, Big Al.”
“You too.”
Albert handed the phone back to the captain. Outside the HQ tent, American and Chinese soldiers were preparing for an assault on Charlotte. Van Dyke ducked under the flaps.
“Captain, the teams are ready to move out,” he said.
“I’ll be right there,” Harris said.
Van Dyke shifted his gaze to Albert, and grinned. The corporal didn’t look as nervous as the last time they had gone out there. He had excitement written all over his features.
“Be careful, Van Dyke,” Albert said. “You may have the numbers this time, but don’t underestimate the enemy. Remember what happened to those National Guard soldiers.”
“That’s part of the reason I’m anxious to go out there, brother. We’re going to make these fuckers pay for what they have done.”
“Just watch your six, man. I’m headed back to Constellation tomorrow, so if I don’t see you before you get back, good luck.”
“Thanks.” Van Dyke reached out to shake his hand. “Take care of yourself, Big Al.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Van Dyke wiped the smirk off his face and grew serious. “And do me a favor. Tell Secretary Montgomery to keep them Chinese on a short leash. I don’t trust ’em.”
“I’ll pass along your message, but I’d highly recommend dropping the attitude. So far, they have fought, bled, and died with us.”
“Just wait until one of ’em shoots an American soldier. Mark my words, Al, it’s going to happen.”
Albert didn’t know exactly how to respond to that, so he simply held Van Dyke’s grip until the corporal let go and walked out of the tent.
Harris and Albert followed him to the staging area between the industrial zone and the train tracks. Dozens of vehicles were lined up outside the warehouses, and hundreds of American soldiers were loading Humvees and trucks with gear and ammunition. Most of the Chinese soldiers were remaining behind to protect the FOB and the supplies still being brought in by train. They patrolled the area, weapons cradled, eyes roving. Everyone was still on edge after the last attack.
Two Apache choppers and a trio of Black Hawks sat on a dirt landing pad about a quarter mile to the west. More American soldiers were preparing outside the aircraft.
“It’s the biggest operation on American soil yet,” Harris said.
“Two months ago, I would never have believed it was possible,” Al
bert said.
“Makes two of us, Officer Randall.”
Harris walked away to talk to one of his subordinates, leaving Albert watching the troops. The convoy and choppers moved out a few minutes later, the growl of diesel engines and chop of helicopter blades filling the afternoon with the din of pre-battle noises.
As the sound faded away, Albert looked around to find that most of the American troops were gone, aside from Captain Harris and his small entourage. Chinese soldiers passed Albert by without muttering a single word.
He suddenly felt completely out of place, but it still beat heading into Charlotte to fight gangs that would happily cut his throat and hang him from a pole.
Captain Cao nodded at Albert as he passed. With twenty-four hours to kill before his ride arrived, Albert decided to make himself useful.
“Captain?” he called.
Cao smiled politely at Albert. “Officer Randall, you didn’t go with the other Americans?”
“No sir. I’m supposed to head back home tomorrow, so figured I might pick your brain while I wait for my ride.”
Cao looked back with a confused look on his face. “Pick my brain?”
“It’s a figure of speech.”
“Oh. What you mean is you’d like to talk.”
The distant crack of automatic gunfire commanded their attention toward the downtown skyline. The Apaches were circling, and the Black Hawks were dropping troops into the fire zone.
“Good luck to them,” Cao said.
Albert said a mental prayer for the soldiers as well as the innocent civilians that could get caught in the crossfire. He stood there for several minutes listening to the thump of what sounded like mortar fire exploding in Charlotte. It didn’t take long before the entire area sounded like a war zone.
“Follow me a moment, will you?” Cao asked.
Albert and the Captain walked toward the tents, stopping for a truck filled to the brim with potatoes that had come in on the train. Once the battle was over, the food would be distributed in the city.
Cao held up the flaps to the Chinese HQ tent for Albert. A small heater warmed the space, which was furnished with a desk, table, and two cots.
“Would you like some tea?” Cao said.
Albert nodded. The Captain fired up the burners on a small gas stove set up on the table. A few minutes later, he poured Albert a cup and sat it in front of him. Albert brought it to his lips to take a sip while Cao took a seat behind his makeshift desk. The sound of war continued as they drank their warm tea.
Cao was the first to speak. “I know why you and Captain Harris were assigned to our division,” he said bluntly.
Albert lowered the cup.
“You’re here to watch us and make sure we don’t use unreasonable force against your citizens.” He held up a finger to forestall Albert’s protest. “And you’re here to make sure we have no connection to the North Koreans.”
Albert settled back into his seat, waiting for the Captain to continue. He liked the man, especially what he had said about why he joined the military, but he needed to be careful of what he said.
“You don’t need to respond,” Cao said. “The reason I am telling you all of this is because I received intel this morning about the North Korean attack in New York. It is not going to be the last attack.”
Albert raised a brow and broke his silence. “How do you know?”
“Because I know the North Koreans. I was born there. My parents defected when I was five years old. They smuggled me across the border into China.”
Cao took another sip of tea, and then continued. “My parents never wanted me to be ashamed of where I came from, as long as I understood what it was like living in North Korea.”
The distant sound of an explosion distracted Cao for a moment. The blast faded away.
“As long as there are North Koreans out there, they will continue hating America, and will not give up until your way of life is destroyed. I, like many of my Chinese comrades, may not agree with your form of government, but we still respect it, and will give our lives to help America and China succeed together. But I wanted to warn you that things are going to get worse before they get better… So you can tell your Secretary of Defense when you return home.”
Albert sat his cup of tea on the desk, a chill running through his body. The two messages he was returning home with from Van Dyke and Cao were far different. One was a message of division, the other a message of unity.
But Cao also had another message, if Albert was understanding the Captain.
“Are you saying the war with North Korea isn’t over?”
“Yes.” Cao stood and pulled down on his uniform. “We are fighting two enemies now, Officer Randall. The Americans that don’t want us here, and the North Korean sleeper agents that were activated after the attack.”
Cao grimaced at the sound of another distant explosion, and then said, “I can assure you, we are not the enemy. The North Koreans are, and they always will be until they are all dead.”
Outside, the sound of raised voices and engines filled the staging area, effectively distracting both men. Albert left his tea and went to look.
Chinese soldiers had surrounded the American Humvee and were helping unload the wounded. The first American soldier was conscious, and reached up toward a Chinese medic with a blood-soaked hand. They rushed him to the medical tent, then pulled out a second soldier, who had severe burns on the right side of his face.
It took Albert a long moment to realize the man was Van Dyke. He rushed over to help. The corporal’s left eye flipped open and blinked several times, but the right was swollen completely shut. He tried to speak, mumbling something that Albert couldn’t make out.
“You’re going to be okay, man. Just hang in there,” Albert said, but it was a lie. It would be a miracle if the man survived, and even if he did, it would be a long recovery with those burns.
Van Dyke’s gaze flitted from Albert to the Chinese soldiers carrying him. For a moment, there was a look of confusion on his burned face, then fear. His eye slowly closed, and his breathing became raspy.
Albert watched the medics carry Van Dyke off to the medical tent. The corporal might not trust their Chinese counterparts, but those soldiers and medics were doing everything they could to save him.
— 16 —
Sandra was sitting next to Raven’s bedside a week after the mountain lion attack. He appeared to be sleeping peacefully, but his body was covered in a slick sheen of sweat.
Across the room, Allie slept in a chair with Creek at her feet. The dog had his remaining eye on his handler. Every now and again Creek would close the eyelid, only to snap it back open a moment later. Sandra wasn’t the only one worried about her brother; the dog could also sense how close Raven was to death.
After surviving gunshots, knife wounds, and multiple beatings, a bacterial infection had finally taken him to the edge of life and death. He was fading right in front of her, and there was nothing she could do about it but try and ease his suffering. He wasn’t going to survive more than a few days if they didn’t get him some powerful antibiotics.
The only hope for her brother was standing in the hallway. Marcus Colton, Dale Jackson, and Lindsey Plymouth waited outside the room, discussing a mission that could save her brother’s life.
“I’ll be right back,” Sandra whispered to Raven, although he probably couldn’t hear her. He stirred, and his eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t wake up. She gently shut the door behind her.
“What’s the plan?” Sandra asked.
Lindsey stepped closer to Sandra and, keeping her voice low, said, “This is confidential, so keep it quiet, okay?”
Sandra felt her heart skip, knowing she was about to get some very bad news. It was no secret that the government wasn’t going to make it this way for a year or even longer. The pamphlets had stated as much, and everyone in the town had heard the news.
“We don’t have enough food to get everyone through the winter.
Especially if we can’t count on any help from the Feds. There are simply too many mouths to feed, and the elk and other game have moved deeper into the park, making them more difficult to track and bring back. We’re low on gas, low on food, and low on meds,” Lindsey said.
“We’re not even going to make it through the winter?” Sandra asked.
“Not so loud,” Colton said, bringing up a finger to his lips.
Sandra checked the hallway behind her. No one was nearby, but she dropped her voice anyway. “What are we going to do?”
“This winter will be a struggle unless we make something happen, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do,” Colton said. “I’m taking the special squad Raven and Lindsey put together for a raid on Fort Collins. We’re going to take our supplies back, plus some.”
His tone was confident, but Colton massaged the grip of his pistol nervously. After what Sheriff Thompson had done to him, Sandra didn’t blame him for being anxious about returning to Fort Collins, even though the sheriff was dead.
“If all goes to plan, we will be back before tomorrow morning with the meds to save Raven’s life,” Colton said.
“How do you know where to go?” Sandra asked.
“I just got back from scouting out the warehouses Colton marked on a map from his time in captivity there,” Dale said. “Going back to find medicine is the least we can do for him after all he’s done for Estes Park.”
Sandra couldn’t believe her ears. Dale, of all people, was risking his life to save her brother.
“Thank you,” she said. “Thank you so—”
A voice cut her off. “Chief, that you?”
Everyone turned to see Nurse Jen walking side by side with John Palmer. Colton’s face went white at the sight of the bandaged stumps where the firefighter’s arms had been.
“John! Hey buddy, how are you doing?” Colton said.
Palmer raised his stumps to give everyone a better view of what was left of his arms. “I’m bored as hell and want to get back to work, but can’t do much without hands.”
“Looks like you’re making a great recovery. You’ll be back to work in no time,” Lindsey said. “You can help at the station.”
Trackers Omnibus [Books 1-4] Page 93
