Trackers 2: The Hunted (A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller)

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  Colton refrained from spitting on the body. He needed to be a role model in front of his officers, but it was hard to stay professional. These people had killed a good man, not out of self-preservation or some misguided cause, but simply to feed their addiction.

  He grabbed Milo under the arm and pulled him away from the Jeep. “Let’s go, asshole.”

  “Hey!” Milo protested.

  “Shut up,” Colton growled.

  Officer Matthew directed Cindy toward the building. Nathan, Lindsey, Raven, and Creek stood watching them lead the prisoners across the parking lot. Behind them, a small crowd of citizens had gathered on the street outside Bond Park.

  “Keep them back!” Colton shouted.

  Detective Tim Ryburn and Officer Sam Hines hurried over to the park.

  “Take them inside, Don,” Colton said.

  As soon as the door shut behind them, Colton stalked through the parking lot away from Bond Park. He needed a moment to breathe and a moment to think alone. He passed the H1 Hummer and moved around the side of the station, where he had a view of Prospect Mountain. What he really wanted was a cigarette, but he’d smoked the last one when they were putting the spare tire on Jake’s pickup truck. With the nation’s infrastructure broken, there wouldn’t be any more cigarettes delivered. Maybe it was just as well.

  “Chief? Can I have a word?”

  He sighed. Colton should have known better than to think he would have a moment of peace and quiet. Nathan limped around the corner, holding his cast with his good hand.

  “I’m sorry about Officer Nelson,” Nathan said. “I wish I’d been able to stop what happened that afternoon.”

  “Me too,” Colton said. “It’s time I start realizing that evil doesn’t give you a second chance.”

  Colton eyed the aerial tramway at the top of the mountain. He still hadn’t fully dealt with the events that had occurred there, and he wasn’t sure if he would anytime soon. Throughout the day, he found himself wanting to ask Jake’s opinion or share a joke, and then he’d remember all over again that his best friend was dead.

  “I’ve got a favor to ask of you, Chief,” Nathan said.

  Colton stiffened and faced Nathan. “What’s that?”

  “Remember that gear you promised me?”

  “Yeah,” he said slowly.

  “I’m going to need it. Some soldiers took my nephew before the Marines got to the Easterseals camp.”

  “What do you mean they took him?”

  “Apparently some soldiers showed up, shot two camp counselors, and went off with a bunch of the kids.”

  Colton wiped his forehead with a sleeve. He was so goddamned tired. It was hard to think. “Why would they…unless…do you think they knew who your nephew is?”

  “I highly doubt that, but it’s possible. Either way, I’m heading out to track Ty down.”

  Colton’s day kept getting worse. They were already stretched thin on resources, but Nathan had risked his life to help him catch Brown Feather and Turtle. He couldn’t let the pilot down now.

  “Hold here a minute,” Colton said. He walked back to the corner and looked around the side of town hall. Raven and Creek were still outside the back entrance to the police station with Lindsey.

  “Raven, come here a second,” Colton called out.

  Raven trotted over with Creek in tow. “What’s up, Chief?”

  “I’ve got another mission for you and Creek.”

  AFTER YEARS OF being poked and prodded by doctors in hospitals, the sight of needles no longer bothered Ty. He watched Dr. Rollins insert the needle into his upper arm without even flinching.

  “Tetanus shot,” Dr. Rollins said. “Just to be safe. The General wants to make sure you’re as healthy as a horse.”

  A bank of lights overhead illuminated Ty’s skinny legs dangling over the elevated bed. His skin was so pale he could see his veins. Sometimes his legs didn’t feel like a part of him, and other times he could almost feel them. Today was one of those days. He willed them to work, to stand up and run away from this man.

  Dr. Rollins forced a smile full of yellow teeth. “Almost done,” he said.

  Ty looked out the open door into the main medical facility. Several of the other kids were there sitting in chairs, waiting to be treated. Micah and Emma, the two kids from the road, were shivering together on a bench. He shared a room with them now. There were also Tim, Jack, Shana, and Rhonda from the Easterseals camp. The other children were being held in a different room than Ty, and the men wouldn’t let him talk to them.

  For some reason, the General wanted Ty to be looked at first. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten special treatment because of his mom, but he never felt good about it.

  “Help them,” Ty insisted, pointing at the siblings. Emma had already thrown up twice since they got to the Castle. “They need it, I don’t.”

  “Soon, I promise.” He shifted his glasses up to look at the other kids and then shut the door, sealing them inside the small room with a click.

  Ty wanted to believe that Dr. Rollins was a good person. He didn’t have tattoos or a shaved head like the soldiers. He decided to take a chance and ask some questions.

  “What is this place?” Ty asked.

  “Med ward,” the doctor said, distracted by writing something down on a pad.

  “No, I mean what’s the Castle?”

  Dr. Rollins looked at the window at the top of the metal door and then crossed to a glass cabinet. He pulled out several pill bottles, set them down, and looked over his shoulder at the window again.

  “Your mom is really Senator Montgomery?”

  Ty nodded. He waited for a response, but Dr. Rollins continued working. He counted out some pills onto a tray, grabbed a bottle of water, and returned to the exam table.

  “Take these,” he said.

  “No,” Ty said. “Not until you answer my questions.”

  Dr. Rollins glanced at the window again. A tattooed man with a sharp nose strode by the room and stopped just outside the door. Rollins turned back to Ty and held the pills out.

  “Please, just take them,” he said. There was fear and sadness in the old man’s eyes. Ty knew then he wasn’t bad like the other soldiers.

  “I’ll take them if you answer my questions,” Ty whispered. “I promise not to tell anyone we talked.”

  Dr. Rollins waited for the man outside to walk away. “You’re going to get me into trouble.”

  “I promise I won’t tell. What is this place, and why am I here? I want to go home.”

  The doctor checked the window a third time. “You don’t tell anyone this. Okay? I mean anyone.”

  Ty nodded firmly, and Dr. Rollins continued in a hushed voice. “The Castle is the Sons of Liberty’s home base. General Fenix started building it and stockpiling supplies here years ago for his army.”

  “Army?” Ty asked. “So what do they need me for? I can’t fight.”

  Dr. Rollins frowned. “You’re not going to fight for his army, son. You’re going to help him build it.”

  Charlize sat in the troop hold of a Seahawk helicopter, tucked between a team of Navy SEALs and Albert. They had just taken off from the roof of a hospital in Palm Beach after being diverted earlier that day. The pilots were taking them to a secure location President Diego had picked after the evacuation from the USS John Stennis.

  On the horizon was the aircraft carrier. Clint’s body was still on board, and they hadn’t been able to hold a remembrance ceremony for him. Leaving without saying goodbye broke her heart‌—‌not that there was much of it left intact to break.

  “That’s not Clint down there anymore. His soul is in a better place, and if you have anything to say to him, he can still hear you,” Albert said, as if he could read her mind. He put his massive hand over hers. “Try not to worry about Ty, either. I bet this is all just a misunderstanding and he’ll be home soon.”

  “Hard not to worry, but thank you,” Charlize said. She doubted Albert was right, b
ut she had to hold onto hope that maybe this was some sort of mistake. Maybe it had been the Colorado National Guard or another unit who had picked up the kids. She could get a call any minute explaining the mix up.

  Charlize reached up and dabbed her burned forehead with the medicated gel she kept in her pocket. The pulsing pain was really starting to bother her, resulting in a headache that had settled behind her eyes. The constant rattle from the rotors overhead didn’t help. She should have taken her medicine before leaving the ship.

  Albert watched her from the side, concerned but keeping quiet. He had severe burns too, and had never complained once. He had lost his entire family‌—‌his wife, two daughters, brother, and mother-in-law‌—‌in the blast that leveled D.C., and he had hardly said a word about it since. She could see he was hurting deep down, beneath the layers of muscle and grit.

  “How are you doing, Big Al?” she asked.

  He managed a smile. “I’m all right, ma’am.”

  “I’m so sorry about your family.”

  “Not your fault, ma’am.”

  “If you ever want to talk to me‌—‌”

  “I know,” Albert interrupted. It was his way of saying not now. He looked away to scan the interior of the troop hold. He was easily the biggest man there, but he wasn’t a trained killer like the Navy SEALs. The men, in turn, all averted their gaze from Charlize and Albert. They were either anxious at the presence of the Secretary of Defense or else their minds were simply elsewhere. She had a feeling it was the latter. Her own mind was racing like the F-18 Hornets still peeling off the deck of the USS John Stennis.

  Every head turned to watch the fighters scream away, one at a time, from the aircraft carrier. One squadron fanned out to sea while the other tore off to Palm Beach. The Seahawk was following a dozen other helicopters in the same direction.

  Charlize eyed the Osprey carrying President Diego, which was sandwiched between the small fleet of choppers. The other birds buzzed around it like wasps protecting their queen. She cupped her hands over her headset as the F-18s roared past them.

  “Aren’t those Hornets going the wrong way?” Charlize shouted over the thump of the rotors.

  Senior Chief Petty Officer Fernandez, a handsome Latino man with a graying mustache, looked in her direction with the hardened, non-judgmental gaze of a career warrior who had seen action all over the world.

  “They’re heading toward the line, Madame Secretary,” he said.

  “What line is that, Chief?” Albert asked.

  “The line separating paradise from hell,” Fernandez said without emotion.

  “Florida has been cut in half by an invisible border just south of Orlando. The grid north of it is down,” Charlize explained.

  Fernandez nodded. “That line is a moving target. We’ve already had to fall back in several areas. We’re headed to Highway 4 after we drop you off at Constellation.”

  “It seems to me they need men of your caliber for more important missions than holding security on a highway,” Charlize said, frowning.

  “There are a hundred thousand refugees pouring in from the north, Madame Secretary. We’re needed to help coordinate the units there,” he said.

  Charlize could feel Albert looking over at her, but he remained silent, too. He went back to tapping his burned Air Jordans, and Charlize lost herself in her thoughts.

  The number of refugees was staggering, and it would only get worse. It was hard to picture when she looked at the city below. While the streets were busy, vehicles were still moving and the grid was still working. There was no sign of looting or riots, no sign of people suffering from radiation poisoning.

  It won’t last, she thought. The refugees would kill to get down here. It was all about self-preservation now.

  Charlize shook her head. The country was collapsing after less than a week.

  To the east, the North Korean submarines were watching it all unfold. They were hiding in their subs, but they would have to surface for fuel eventually, and when they did, she would nail them with the HSM squadrons.

  But even with the North Korean threat eradicated, the country would still be tearing itself apart. Her job as Secretary of Defense was to try and hold it all together, and do it while she was losing her mind with worry.

  “Madame Secretary,” one of the pilots said over the comms. “Lieutenant Marco is on the line requesting to speak with you.”

  “Patch her through,” Charlize replied. She pushed the mini-mic to her lips and tried to remain calm. The XO of the USS John Stennis was her lifeline to Nathan and Dupree now that she didn’t have access to a radio.

  “Ma’am,” Marco said. “I have a SITREP for you. Lieutenant Dupree is heading southwest over Interstate 70. There’s still no sign of Falcon. The pilots have about an hour of fuel left. Then they’ll need to fly east to refuel and drop that sick boy off at Buckley Air Force Base.”

  Charlize wanted to order Dupree to stay out there as long as he could, but Ty’s life wasn’t the only one on the line. Alex was sick and needed help, too. Instead, she thanked the lieutenant for the update and went back to looking out the windows. She wondered if she had made the right call in telling Nathan to wait until the morning to leave Estes Park, but there was no turning back now.

  For several minutes, no one said a word in the troop hold. Albert and the Navy SEALs all stared ahead blankly. Each of them had families to think about. There wasn’t a single American alone in their misery. Of everyone here, she was the only one who got to pull rank, and she was starting to feel pretty awful for doing it.

  The silence ended with another transmission from one of the pilots.

  “We’re ten minutes away from putting down,” he reported. “Senior Chief Fernandez will escort you to Constellation by boat after we land.”

  “Take a look northwest,” said the other pilot.

  Charlize leaned to her right for a view out the starboard side window. Her headache was worse, and the pain behind her eyes blurred her vision. The tops of skyscrapers glittered and flickered across an unfamiliar skyline. Plumes of smoke rose among the buildings. Dozens of dots circled the city‌—‌helicopters, she realized.

  “That’s Orlando,” the main pilot said. “Or what we’re calling the Hornet’s Nest.”

  Charlize could see why the city had earned the nickname. The bird continued turning, providing a view of Highway 95. Cars were creeping down the southbound lane, so slowly she could hardly tell they were moving at all.

  On the shoulder, a small convoy of Humvees and military trucks drove north like fish battling against the current to get back up river. In between the vehicles, a crowd of people were making their way on foot. From her vantage point, they blended into a single snake.

  “My God, there are thousands of refugees down there,” Albert said quietly.

  “Hundreds of thousands,” Charlize replied, remembering what Fernandez had said earlier. She hadn’t wanted to believe it, but now she could see them with her own eyes. Even the pictures of refugees pouring out of cities in war-torn regions overseas didn’t compare to what she saw below.

  At least the American military was supporting these people. In Iraq and Afghanistan, fleeing civilians were killed by bombs and missiles, leaving scenes of carnage on the road. Charlize had been there to see one of them firsthand.

  Fernandez patted his helmet and cleared his throat. “Listen up, men. After we get Secretary Montgomery safely to Constellation, we’re heading down there. There are‌—‌”

  “Looks like a skirmish on the highway,” reported one of the pilots. “Someone just open fired down there!”

  Charlize and Albert joined the Navy SEALs on the other side of the helicopter. Fernandez held up a hand to keep her back.

  “Better to stay seated, ma’am,” he said. “I don’t want you getting hit by a stray bullet.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Albert said. He crowded in front of Charlize with his hulking frame. Below, she could see a mob of civilians f
anned out across the highway. More gunshots tore into the crowd, and those fleeing stampeded to escape.

  “What’s happening down there?” she asked.

  Fernandez shook his head. “Who knows? Maybe someone wanted a bottle of water. The stories I’ve been hearing... hell, I heard about a guy that shot someone for a candy bar.”

  “Looks like the military is moving in,” Albert said.

  Humvees raced down the shoulder of the road even as the pilots pulled away from the scene. Charlize cupped her hand over her mouth when she saw the bodies on the highway they were leaving behind. Dozens of civilians had already been shot or trampled to death in the chaos.

  “Our job is to stop shit like that from happening,” Fernandez said to his men.

  Charlize returned to her seat with Albert, still shocked by what she had witnessed. This wasn’t supposed to happen here, not in America. It took her several minutes to get control of her breathing.

  As the Navy SEALs finally moved away from the windows, she spied a landmark she hadn’t seen in years. The rocket launch towers of the Kennedy Space Center rose like missiles above the horizon.

  “Prepare for landing,” one of the pilots said. He glanced back from the cockpit and said, “You’re almost to Constellation, Madame Secretary, but this is as far as we can take you.”

  She watched the ground rise up to meet them as realization set in. Constellation wasn’t some top-secret military base. It was somewhere at Cape Canaveral, the same place that had launched missions into space.

  Years ago she had toured the facilities, first as an Air Force pilot, and then as a United States Senator. When she’d been a kid, she’d dreamed of becoming an astronaut for a mission to outer space, but those dreams were no more. She was the Secretary of Defense now, a role she’d never dreamed of taking on, and it was time to get down to work.