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

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

Raven had made a lot of promises lately. He’d promised himself and Sandra that he would protect his family and Estes Park from evil after he killed Brown Feather and Turtle.

  He’d also promised to help Colton maintain law and order in whatever way Colton saw fit. Now the Chief was asking Raven to follow through with that promise by helping find and rescue Nathan’s nephew, who also happened to be the son of the new Secretary of Defense. Funny how that little detail hadn’t really come up much in conversation before now.

  Raven crouched next to Creek and scrutinized the lawman and the pilot. He hadn’t particularly liked Nathan when he’d met him the night of the North Korean attack, but Nathan had helped save Sandra and Allie. There wasn’t anything less honorable in life than a man who refused to pay his debts, and Raven owed Nathan.

  “I’ll go with you to find the boy,” Raven said, standing up and joining them.

  “You sure your sister won’t mind?” Nathan asked.

  “Of course she will. That’s why you’re going to tell her we won’t be gone long and that everything will be fine.”

  Nathan grinned. It looked like it hurt.

  “I’m sure she’ll understand,” Colton said. “I’ll make sure she’s well looked after while you’re gone, Raven.”

  “Promise?”

  Colton nodded, and Raven shook his hand to seal the deal.

  “Sandra might forgive me, but Creek isn’t going to for leaving him here. Are you, boy?”

  The dog looked up, eyes flitting from Nathan to Raven.

  “I won’t risk him getting radiation poisoning, and I don’t guess there are any suits that will fit him,” Raven said.

  Nathan held down a hand for Creek to sniff, but the dog put his head back on his paws and snorted.

  Good dog, Raven thought.

  Around the corner of town hall came Patrol Sergeant Don Aragon. He pulled up his duty belt and jerked his chin at them. “Sounds like Cindy Todd’s going to need stitches. She’s bleeding pretty bad.”

  “You clipped her good, Raven,” Colton said.

  “Sorry,” Raven muttered.

  “I’m not,” Don said. “I’m also not keen on the idea of wasting medical supplies on her. I say we let her bleed, but Lindsey told me to run it by you.”

  The words seemed to take Nathan by surprise. He turned to Colton. “You decided what you’re going to do with her yet, Chief?”

  “Need to talk to Mayor Andrews first before I do anything,” Colton replied. “For now, get her stitched up.”

  Don rolled his eyes, but tipped his cowboy hat before walking away.

  “I really don’t like his attitude,” Colton snarled.

  Raven shrugged. “I really don’t like him at all.”

  Colton shook it off and pointed at the VW van tucked between Raven’s Jeep and the department’s Humvee. “How do you feel about driving that?”

  “You sure it can be trusted on the open roads?” Nathan asked. “Looks like it’s slower than a donkey.”

  Colton laughed. “Not that slow.” He reached into his pocket, pulled a key off the ring, and handed it to Raven. “I wouldn’t feel right about sending you two out there in that swag mobile, so I’m going to let you take your Jeep.”

  “Mighty generous of you,” Raven said with a grin. “Considering she’s mine.”

  There was no trace of an answering smile on Colton’s features. His mind was clearly elsewhere. Raven plucked the key out of his hand and bent down to check a dent on the back bumper. When he looked up, Colton had already turned away to look at the crowd on the sidewalk outside Bond Park. Fifty people were gathered there. Some of them were shouting, but Raven wasn’t sure what they were carrying on about.

  “I’m going to have to go deal with this,” Colton said with a sigh.

  Nathan set his rucksack down next to the Jeep. “And we better get moving while we still have light.”

  “Okay, but I need to swing by the hospital to drop off Creek and say goodbye to my sister before we head out. Otherwise, she will kill me.”

  Nathan grinned. “My sister is going to kill me too when she finds out I didn’t wait until morning to head out there.”

  “It is very dangerous on the roads, but I’ve already told you so a dozen times,” Colton said.

  The back door to the police station opened, and Lindsey stepped outside holding two large duffel bags. She brought them over to the Jeep and dropped them on the ground.

  “Your CBRN suits, gentleman. I’ve also added a Geiger counter. I’d say good luck, but you’re going to need more than luck out there. You’re going to need one of these.”

  She unstrapped a third pack and pulled out a handheld GPS device and pair of night vision goggles.

  “These work?” Nathan asked.

  “Yup. Leroy Travis donated them to the department. Apparently Bill Catcher wasn’t the only prepper in town with faraday cages. Leroy also gave us a digital radio that actually works.”

  “I’ll be damned,” Raven said, reaching out for the night vision goggles. The optics looked ancient, nothing like the advanced “four eyes” type he was used to wearing, but they would do the job.

  “Detective Plymouth, I don’t remember authorizing you to give out our supplies, but I suppose Nathan and Raven need them more than us right now,” Colton said. He examined the optics. “They should help you drive in the dark with your headlights off. Might make the roads a bit less dangerous.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Lindsey said. She was clearly rattled from the incident just hours before, but she still managed a smile.

  “I owe you a coffee when I come back,” Raven said. He massaged the scruff on his chin. “Actually, now to think about it, I think you owe me one for saving your ass earlier today.”

  Lindsey rolled her eyes. “Wouldn’t that make us even? Guess we don’t have to get a drink at all.”

  “Wait, so I don’t have a chance at all now?” Raven said, frustrated and kind of confused.

  “Maybe if you cut your hair,” she said, shooting him a sideward glance. “I don’t date men with hair longer than mine.”

  Nathan let out a laugh, and Colton shook his head wearily.

  “Go help Don with Cindy, Detective,” Colton said. “Raven and Nathan, I’ll meet you at the hospital after I finish talking to these people.”

  “You got it, Chief,” Lindsey said. She walked back to the building, and Colton hurried across the parking lot and to Bond Park.

  “Settle down, everyone,” he said, hands raised.

  A flurry of questions rang out all around him. Raven didn’t envy Colton’s job. He was trying to keep the town from falling apart, but between the shootout with Nile Redford’s men, the brutal killings by the Tankala brothers, and the manhunt for the addicts who killed Officer Nelson, things were hanging on by a thread.

  Raven listened to Colton try and reassure the crowd. Everyone had a question. Some people wanted to know about food, others about the killings, and others about military support. Colton didn’t have many answers.

  “Chief’s going to need a lot of help up here,” Nathan said quietly. “When you get back, I mean.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Raven replied. He looked over at Creek. He hated leaving the dog, but he couldn’t risk bringing him out there. For this hunt, he was going to have to sit on the sidelines.

  “You take care of Sandra and Allie when I’m gone, okay, boy?”

  Creek sniffed the duffel bags as Nathan opened them and rifled through the contents. Raven bent down next to him to examine their gear. In addition to everything else Lindsey had shown them, she’d also included a medical pack. Raven opened the other bag to reveal food, water, and extra magazines for their Colt AR-15s.

  They had everything they might need to track Nathan’s nephew to hell and back. Raven just hoped they would find the boy alive.

  ALEX WAS DYING inside the oversized CBRN suit, and there wasn’t much Lieutenant Dupree could do about it. He held the boy in his arms as the other
Marines stood at the open door of the Black Hawk. It was a sign of how bad off the kid was that Dupree was able to hold him at all. They were headed back to Buckley AFB, low on fuel and low on morale after failing to find Ty Montgomery.

  Sergeant McCabe crouch-walked back to the seat next to Dupree.

  “Sir, there’s no sign of survivors down there,” McCabe said. “Although we did see some recent tire tracks in the ash. Two vehicles appear to have been heading east not too long ago.”

  “That might be the kidnappers,” Dupree said. “We’ll start the search along this road once we re-fuel and drop Alex off.”

  “Are we going to be able to sleep at all, sir?” Sharps asked. “I haven’t gotten more than two hours in the past two days. This chopper isn’t the only thing running on fumes.”

  Dupree looked at each of his men in turn. Even with the visors obscuring their faces, he could see the exhaustion in their eyes. No, it wasn’t just exhaustion‌—‌it was doubt.

  Watching the country collapse had taken a harsh toll on the team. Everyone was worried about their own families, and while it wasn’t a Marine’s job to question orders, Dupree knew all of his men, and not just Sharps, were wondering what made Ty Montgomery so damned important.

  “Everyone gets two hours of R&R when we get to Buckley,” Dupree said. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing, and his men needed the shuteye to function.

  McCabe exhaled in his helmet. He reached down into his rucksack and pulled out a plastic sealed medical kit.

  “Buckley AFB, ETA thirty minutes,” one of the pilots said. “They’ve scrubbed the base pretty good, but we’ll need to stay in our suits for now.”

  “I’m tired enough to sleep in this thing,” McCabe said as he rummaged through the medical kit.

  Dupree wasn’t tired at all now. The adrenaline was still pumping through his veins, and he had a feeling it was because things were about to get worse. He gripped Alex tighter as the pilots pulled farther into the sky.

  “Jesus, look at that,” Sharps said from the doorway.

  The change in direction provided a view of the horizon to the southwest. A black wall of smoke being fed by the burning forests choked the sky. Where there had been a gold and green ocean of trees, there was now only a bed of embers. If the rain continued, Mother Nature might have a chance of stopping what man had started, but Dupree had learned a long time ago not to hope for miracles.

  “Close those doors,” Dupree said.

  Crew Chief Locust got up from his seat across the troop hold and closed off the view.

  “Am I going to die?”

  The voice came from Alex. He shifted his helmeted head so he could see Dupree’s face. Tears streaked away from the boy’s filthy cheeks.

  “You’re going to be fine, kid,” Dupree said. “We’re taking you to get help right now.”

  “I want to see my mom and dad.” Alex licked his cracked lips. “Can you take me to my mom and dad?”

  He began to squirm in Dupree’s grip. He nodded to McCabe, and the Marine pulled a syringe out of the medical kit.

  “My friend Sergeant McCabe is going to give you something to help you sleep, okay?”

  Alex glanced up at McCabe with bloodshot eyes and coughed. His small body practically vibrated in Dupree’s arms. Saliva mixed with blood peppered the inside of Alex’s visor.

  “I want to see my mom and dad,” Alex said again.

  Dupree kept the kid talking while McCabe prepared the needle. “Where are your parents?”

  “Richmond, Virginia, United States, North America, Earth,” he rattled off in quick succession, his eyes briefly clearing.

  Dupree held in a curse. Richmond was smack in the middle of another radiation zone.

  “I want my mama,” Alex whimpered.

  “We’re taking you to a hospital first. I’ll talk to someone there and see if they can contact your parents.”

  “Okay,” Alex said. Tears continued to fall down his face as he watched the needle.

  “This might hurt,” McCabe said. He pulled back Alex’s sleeve to expose the skin without puncturing the suit and then injected the morphine. It only took a few seconds to kick in, and Alex relaxed in Dupree’s arms. He was asleep a few minutes later.

  “Help me,” Dupree said to McCabe.

  Together, they gently laid Alex on the floor of the helicopter.

  “He’s not going to make it, is he?” Sharps asked. There was empathy in the Marine’s eyes Dupree hadn’t seen before. War brought out a lot in men, and it wasn’t always bad. He had seen Sharps grow into a man over the past few years, and even though he was still a jokester, he was as courageous as any Marine Dupree had ever met.

  “Sir, I’ve got eyes on a working vehicle,” Locust said from the door, saving Dupree from answering. “A Humvee... make that two Humvees heading east. Looks like a Colorado National Guard unit, sir.”

  Dupree checked Alex again to make sure he was still sleeping and then made his way to the cockpit. He motioned for McCabe to follow.

  “How much fuel do we have left?” Dupree asked.

  The main pilot checked the gauges. “Thirty minutes worth, maybe a bit more.”

  “And we’re about twenty minutes from Buckley?”

  “Yup,” the pilot confirmed.

  Dupree cursed. “That’s a small window, and Alex is running out of time.”

  “Sir, all due respect, but that kid probably isn’t going to make it no matter what,” McCabe said.

  Deep down Dupree knew it was true. He wasn’t ready to give up on Alex, but their primary mission was to locate and evacuate Ty Montgomery from Colorado and return him to the Secretary of Defense.

  “Alex said those soldiers loaded the kids into a pickup, right?”

  McCabe nodded. “I believe so, sir,”

  The Humvees zigzagged around the cars stalled along the highway. There was no sign of a pickup or any kids, which suggested this wasn’t related to their mission. Still, it was their first sighting of any military presence out on the road. To Dupree, it was worth checking out.

  “Cut ‘em off,” Dupree said. “We have to make this fast.”

  Both pilots turned to look at him like he was crazy.

  “That’s an order,” Dupree said. He moved back into the troop hold, adrenaline rocketing through him.

  “Locust, get on the M240. The rest of you, lock and load. I want to ask those soldiers some questions and see if they have any info that could lead us to Falcon.”

  The fatigue plaguing the Marines seemed to evaporate. They snapped into action, checking their weapons and suits as Locust opened the door. The other Marines crowded around, their weapons cradled and ready.

  The Black Hawk shot over a forest spared from the flames, the wind from the rotors whipping the tops of pines like ripples in a pond. Dupree brought the scope of his M4 to his visor. The Humvees trailed a black cloud of exhaust on the off-ramp and turned onto another road that snaked through the forests.

  “They have to see us up here,” McCabe said. “Why aren’t they stopping?”

  Dupree pushed his scope back to his eye. The Humvees’ turrets were armed with M240s, but he didn’t see anyone manning the weapons. They raced down the road without slowing. A bridge crossed a stream about a mile ahead. From the sky, this tiny sliver of terrain still looked beautiful, but everything down there was likely toxic. Bluffs coated with moss towered over the road on the other side of the bridge. Gangly trees protruded out of the rocks.

  The Humvees stopped on the bridge. The doors opened, disgorging soldiers in green CBRN suits.

  “Look like they finally got the message,” McCabe said.

  Dupree lowered his rifle and turned to the cockpit. “Put us down behind that minivan.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied one of the pilots.

  “McCabe, Emerson, and Sharps you’re with me,” Dupree said. “Everyone else, you stay in the bird and watch our back.”

  McCabe hesitated. “Sir, I got a bad feelin
g about this. What if those guys are the same ones that took Falcon?”

  “I’m hoping they are,” Dupree said.

  Sharps chuckled. “Me too. I’ve been itching for some action.”

  Dupree shot him a glare. “Goddammit, Sharps, you’re a Marine. A few minutes ago, I was actually thinking about how you were growing up. Do you still not see what the fuck is going on down there?”

  The tall Marine glanced outside at the burning skyline and the road dotted with stalled cars.

  “That shit down there is our new world,” Dupree said. He let the words sink in and bent down next to Alex as the bird lowered into position. The boy was breathing slowly, lost in a deep sleep. Dupree was relieved to see he wasn’t suffering.

  “I’ll be right back, kid,” he whispered. He touched Alex’s arm and then stood. At the door, he chambered a round in his M4 and turned the selector to single shot.

  The rotors whipped up ash and dust below, spinning it in all directions. As soon as the wheels touched the ground, Dupree hopped out and ran at a crouch toward a minivan. The Humvees‌—‌and the men guarding them‌—‌were about three hundred feet away.

  Wind from the rotors slammed into Dupree as he jogged away from the bird. McCabe, Sharps, and Emerson followed close behind. They fanned out in combat intervals, their weapons cradled.

  “Eyes up,” Dupree said over the comm link. He scanned the bluffs bordering the road and then counted five contacts dressed in ash-caked CBRN suits. They all carried M16s, but one man’s was equipped with a grenade launcher attachment. He stepped away from the group with his weapon lowered toward the concrete.

  Dupree motioned for his team to hold security here. He walked out to meet the man with the grenade launcher. They stopped five feet from one another.

  “Lieutenant Jeff Dupree with the United States Marine Corps. Identify yourself.”

  “I’m Sergeant Jack Smith with the Colorado National Guard.” He looked up at the helicopter, then back at Dupree.

  “What are you guys doing out here?”

  “Was about to ask you the same question. Sir.”

  Dupree didn’t like Smith’s tone, the slight and faintly sarcastic emphasis he’d placed on Sir.