Another bullet whizzed toward Fenix, pushing him back. He changed his magazine and waited for another opportunity to fire.
“Shoot your damn weapon!” Fenix yelled at Rollins.
The chopper continued its pursuit of the trucks, which were closing in on Fenix’s position. Fenix palmed the fresh mag into the cold rifle and angled the carbine up toward the cockpit.
“Die, you fucking traitors,” he growled.
The helicopter was heading right for him now, closing in on the trucks.
An explosion suddenly bloomed overhead, the bird blowing to pieces mid-air. Burning hunks of metal streaked through the sky, and a flaming corpse dropped to the ground like a flake of snow.
Fenix lowered his rifle and shielded his eyes with a gloved hand. The blast had been close enough that he could feel the heat on his face, and it felt damn good. He grinned and strode out into the road to link up with the Sons of Liberty soldiers that were apparently on their way to rescue his sorry ass.
“Doc,” Fenix said. “Doc, come on.”
He turned to see Rollins sitting in the snow near the tree, cross-legged, his hands on his stomach.
“Doc?” Fenix said. He hurried over and crouched down in front of Rollins, who looked up with sad eyes. His NVGs were pushed up on his forehead, and he seemed to be looking through Fenix instead of at him.
“I’m cold, General,” Rollins choked, reaching up with one hand. “You got a cigarette?”
Fenix knew by the question that Rollins was a dead man. The doc might have been a drunk, but he wasn’t forgetful. He put a hand on the doctor’s shoulder and moved him back slightly to see the blood splatter on his stomach.
“I’ll get you one,” Fenix said. He stood and turned toward the approaching trucks. “Just hang on. I’m sure one of these boys can spare a smoke.”
The rusty trucks and ancient Jeep eased to a stop, their engines coughing and whining. The front door of the lead vehicle opened, and a man with short-cropped gray hair stepped out. A hatchet and sheathed knife hung from a duty belt around his waist.
Fenix didn’t recognize him, but new soldiers were joining the ranks of SOL every day.
“Hello, boys,” he said. “You’ve got good timing.”
The man looked over his shoulder at the others but didn’t say anything. Several guns were still angled at Fenix.
“Lower your fucking weapons. It’s me, General Fenix, and I really need a cigarette.”
The man in camouflage laughed. “You’re Dan Fenix?”
“Who the fuck are you?” Fenix snarled. He took a few steps forward to look at the face of the man that had disrespected him so blatantly. The move earned Fenix another four guns pointed in his direction.
The man wagged a gloved finger. “Now, now, General. If you’d be kind enough to stay put, I promise we won’t shoot you dead.”
Fenix narrowed his eyes. The guy had some sort of an accent he couldn’t place.
“You don’t look like much, if I’m being honest,” the guy said. He shrugged and pointed a pistol at Fenix. “We’ve been looking for you for a while, but this is just too damn easy. It’s almost like it was meant to be.”
He reached down and pulled the hatchet from his belt. “I’m not sure how we’re going to spend the ten million in gold bars, but I’ve got a few ideas...”
Fenix had just long enough to realize he was well and truly fucked before someone clocked him on the back of the head.
Colton punched the prisoner in the stomach for a third time. The man fell to his knees, hands cuffed behind his back, bald head dipped toward the concrete floor. He spat out a mouthful of blood and then looked up with a grin.
“You’re a bigger pussy than that injun,” he said.
Outside the jail cell, Raven unfolded his arms and strode forward, but Lindsey held out a hand to hold him back.
“Let me have a shot at this, Chief,” Raven said.
Colton shook his head. The last thing he was going to do was let Raven in here with this piece of shit.
“I got this,” Colton said. Without warning, he threw another punch at the man’s jaw. The crack echoed through the small cell.
“I’m only going to ask you one more time who you’re working for, asshole,” Colton said. “And you’re also going to tell me where your buddies are camped out.”
The man cracked his jaw from side to side, chuckled, and then spat at Colton’s feet. Whoever he was, he was a professional, and he wasn’t saying much so far. But they had plenty of time to interrogate him.
It was still dark in Estes Park, and Colton had just gotten their prisoner back to the station. The bullet Raven had fired had gone clean through, and the guy had patched himself up pretty well before they found him. Of course, he’d sustained a few more injuries since then.
Officer Hines was at the Estes Park Medical Center, where the doctors were removing the arrow Raven had accidentally fired into his shoulder. Tim Beedie, the volunteer that had accompanied Hines on the hunt, was dead, having bled out from a gunshot wound in Beaver Meadows.
One hell of a night, Colton thought as the man in front of him continued moving his jaw back and forth. He finally looked up and held Colton’s gaze, narrowing a pair of blue eyes surrounded by bulging purple bruises. Raven had done a number on the bastard before Colton could cuff him. Creek had also done some major damage to his neck and right arm. Bite marks and lacerations still oozed blood.
“You want me to set the dog back on you?” Colton asked. “Talk!”
“Screw you,” the man growled. “I’m not telling you jack shit without a lawyer.”
Colton almost laughed at that. Lindsey couldn’t resist, chuckling so hard she ended up bent over with her hands on her knees.
“We’re under martial law in Estes Park,” Colton said calmly. “The only person that you’re going to talk to is me.”
He leaned down, tired bones aching as he crouched. “You killed seven residents of my town, and if you count Officer Sam Hines, you injured another seven. And for what?” Colton asked. He thought about hitting the man again, but he held back. Never in his career had he beaten information out of anyone before, but these were different times. The old rules of engagement didn’t apply. That didn’t mean he enjoyed it.
“You’re not leaving me with many choices here,” Colton continued. “You’re either going to start talking or I’m going to start hurting you real bad.”
Raven and Lindsey kept watch, their faces masks of worry, but Colton didn’t let that distract him. He was determined to get this guy to talk with whatever means possible.
“Jason,” the guy finally said. “My name is Jason. And what you don’t understand is that nothing you can do to me will be worse than what my boss will do to me if I gave him up to a fucking pig.”
Jason sucked in another long breath and then sighed, apparently done talking for now. His silver goatee was dripping blood from his broken nose, and his swollen eyes seemed to be getting worse.
Colton stood and let out his own sigh. He motioned for Lindsey to open the barred gate to let him out. Jason pushed at the floor with his cuffed hands and then sat on the single bench in the small cell while Colton left.
“Guess you won’t mind me leaving you with Raven,” Colton said. “I mean, he is a pussy and all, right?”
Jason’s eyes flitted to Raven, who cracked his knuckles.
“He ain’t a cop, either, so maybe you’ll be able to have a more cordial conversation,” Colton added.
“Doubt that, Chief,” Raven replied.
Colton shrugged a second time and jerked his chin at Lindsey. “Come on, Detective, let’s let Raven have a chat with our new friend.”
“All of you are dead when they come!” Jason yelled. He staggered over to the bars, the veins in his neck bulging as he looked at them.
Colton turned halfway. “When who comes?”
Eyes wide like a wild animal, Jason retreated back to the bench. “There’s a storm coming your way,” he
said. “And there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
The situation room at Constellation was packed with military and civilian staffers with high-level security clearances. Doctor Peter Lundy, the leading scientist at the facility, sat at the far end of the conference table, stroking his red goatee and reading over reports. Colonel Raymond and General Thor were at the head of the table with several of their staffers standing behind them. Even President Diego had stayed up into the early morning hours to monitor this situation.
Covering his mouth to hide a yawn, Diego said, “We got a SITREP yet?”
“Sierra Team found Fenix’s hideout about a mile from Apache Peak,” Thor announced. “The Rangers took two of the SOLs captive, but Fenix escaped. We’re still combing the area for him.”
Charlize couldn’t believe Fenix had gotten away a second time. It was taking every inch of self-control not to shout orders to find him at all costs.
Stay calm, stay in charge, she kept repeating to herself. She already felt guilty about pulling strings to rescue Ty and now Albert’s sister. Good men had died to bring Ty home, and Charlize would have to bear the burden of her decision to send Lieutenant Dupree’s fire team to Colorado. Sending more Americans into danger just to get revenge on the man who murdered her brother would be beyond selfish. Except that Fenix wasn’t just a murderer—he was a terrorist.
The atmosphere now reminded Charlize of the moments before the nuclear explosion that had leveled Washington, D.C. and destroyed the PEOC beneath the White House. The room was tense, the air fraught with shouts and updates as they monitored the raid. But this time the enemy wasn’t North Korea—it was domestic terrorists that called themselves the Sons of Liberty.
All across the country, groups like SOL were popping up and threatening the survival centers. Gangs, vigilantes, and other groups hell-bent on taking generators, food, water, and supplies were making it very difficult to keep any sort of order at the centers. They needed to cut the head off this particular snake to stamp out the Aryan Nation groups rising in Colorado and neighboring states.
Colonel Raymond walked over to a wall-mounted monitor. They didn’t have a real-time feed of what was happening in Colorado, but they did have a map that showed the area. Charlize had practically memorized every mountain, road, and trail in the state of Colorado over the past month. They’d had plenty of false leads and tips that led nowhere. But this time the lead was real. Fenix and his men were out there, hiding like rats.
“This is where the SOL camp was located,” Raymond said, pointing. “Sierra Team is searching this area for Fenix and any other men that may have escaped.”
Thor leaned over for a report from a staff member while Raymond continued briefing the president. Charlize took another drink of coffee. Not that she needed the caffeine. It was two a.m. and she was wide-awake. She just hoped Ty was sleeping peacefully. Maybe when he woke up in the morning, she’d be able to tell him that Fenix was dead and could never hurt him again.
Diego took a seat next to Charlize after Raymond finished his short briefing. The president offered her a tired smile.
“At least there’s some good news,” he said. “We’ve got more shipments of generators, oil, and other supplies coming in on the west and east coasts from our allies. The British and French have also sent us soldiers to help move these resources across to our SCs.”
“That’s great,” Charlize said. She wanted to ask if it was too little too late, but every shipment meant more saved lives.
“More troops are coming home, too,” Diego added. “More men and women to protect our assets and deliver them to the people that need them.”
Charlize considered asking if there were enough troops to send to Houston to help with the cholera outbreak, but she knew there weren’t. It wasn’t just a matter of able-bodied soldiers, it was a matter of logistics and moving supplies.
“Shipments from Australia and New Zealand will be arriving in a few days as well,” Diego said.
She took a deep breath, but before she could add her opinion, General Thor stood and said, “Mr. President, we just got word from Buckley AFB that Sierra team has gone dark.”
“What do you mean gone dark?” Diego asked.
“The pilots aren’t responding over the comms,” Thor said. “Buckley will continue trying to get through, but for now, we have no way to contact the pilots.”
Charlize let out a huff of frustration. “Someone find out what the hell is going on,” she snapped.
“We’re doing our best, ma’am,” Thor said. He sat calmly, eyes ahead.
Charlize was sick of sitting around calmly. The old military saying “Hurry up and wait” rang even more true now that communication happened at a snail’s pace. The other staffers and officers went back to their duties while Charlize sat at the table, trying to keep her cool. Maybe she needed a break. She had been meaning to go check on Ty for over an hour now.
“We’re going to catch him,” Diego said quietly to her. “Fenix will not get away again. It’s just a matter of time before he’s in our custody.”
Charlize thanked the president with a nod, but didn’t reply. She stood and walked over to the wall-mounted monitor to look over the area herself. At least that would keep her busy. There wasn’t much near Apache Peak, which made it one hell of a hiding place. The remote area gave them a ton of ground to cover, even for a helicopter, and especially at night.
“This is where we lost contact with the team,” Raymond said. He pinched the touch screen together and zoomed in on a road. “The pilots said they were engaging a convoy of vehicles before going dark.”
Charlize knew what the news meant. Sierra Team was gone, another victim to the Sons of Liberty.
“Goddammit,” Diego said. He balled his bandaged hand into a fist and stopped just short of pounding the table. “How long until we can get another bird out there?”
Thor shook his head. “An hour, sir. Maybe more. By the time we send another team, the enemy will be long gone.”
There was a long silence that seemed to linger. They were all aware that sending another bird wouldn’t find Fenix; all it would do was recover the bodies of the previous team. How many more men would die at the hands of these terrorists?
Diego shook his head, his bewildered expression like a poker player that had just lost a hand he’d been certain of winning.
“Send another helo to recover our boys and look for any survivors,” he said.
General Thor reached up to make a call when a knock came on the door. A female officer peeked inside.
“Sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone here that needs to see Secretary Montgomery,” she said.
Charlize craned her neck to look for the visitor, expecting an officer or scientist to be standing outside with more bad news. Instead she saw Ty, sitting in his wheelchair wearing his NASA t-shirt instead of pajamas.
He raised a timid hand.
“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. President,” Charlize said. She shot up from her chair and hurried out of the room, heart beating even harder now. The door closed behind her with a click, and she bent down in front of Ty.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I... I can’t sleep. I keep thinking about him...have you caught him yet?”
RAVEN WALKED OUT of the Estes Park police station at sunrise. He sheathed his bloody knife and held a battered hand up to his face like an addict after a bad night, shielding his eyes from the rising glow of the sun. He felt like an addict after a bad night.
It was a new day in Estes Park. In a way, he felt like a new man—but not in a good way. He’d spent the past two and a half hours beating the living shit out of Jason Cole, a former Special Operations soldier and world-class asshole. It had taken some work, but Jason had finally come clean about his actions over the past few weeks.
What Jason had told Raven made him want to puke. The guy had taken the same oath as Raven to uphold the honor and safety of his country above all else. Inste
ad, Sergeant Jason Cole had spent the past month raping, pillaging, and killing his way through Colorado with a group of bandits and raiders from Fort Collins. Who they were, exactly, he wouldn’t say, but Raven knew enough now to take the information to Colton.
Creek trotted out of the station and followed Raven around the side of the building, looking up every few steps to check on his handler. Dogs could sense when someone was in pain. They picked up on the subtle signs humans could never see. Creek would do everything in his power to protect and comfort Raven. Now that was loyalty. That was honor.
And Creek wouldn’t judge Raven for what he’d had to do to Jason.
Damn, I need a drink.
Raven shook his head. “No you don’t, Sam.”
Drinking was actually the last thing Raven wanted to do now. He was a changed man in more than one way, and he wasn’t going back to his old habits. Sam Spears had made promises, and to keep them, he needed to be of sound body and mind. Right now, he had to find Colton to explain what Jason’s “storm” really meant.
He found the chief of police talking to the refugees in Bond Park. Even from a distance, Raven could tell Colton hadn’t slept for more than an hour. Maybe not at all. That made two of them. Sleep, like New Zealand chocolate or a nice medium-rare steak, was a luxury Raven wasn’t going to be experiencing for a very long time.
“Chief,” he said.
Colton pivoted away from a tall, slender woman and a girl that looked to be about eight or nine. The girl straightened a multi-colored wool cap over her braided hair and looked at Raven, her eyes widening at the dried blood on his clothes.
“You got news?” Colton asked.
Lindsey made her way over, her smile slipping off her face at the sight of Raven.
I must really look like shit, he thought.
“Best we talk in private, Chief,” Raven said.
“All right.” Colton gestured for the street, and Raven followed him away from the park.
Trackers 3: The Storm (A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller) Page 14
