Trackers 4: The Damned (A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series)

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  Charlize still had her doubts, and the decision to welcome an occupying military force weighed heavily on her mind. If there had been a conspiracy between China and North Korea, she would find out and deal with those responsible. For now, her duty was to help the country recover.

  Over the comms channel, Raymond explained they would be meeting with General Ken Lin, the man the Chinese had entrusted with the recovery efforts. Charlize had never heard of him, but he was apparently well respected throughout the Chinese military.

  The thump of the rotor blades sounded as the pilots fired up the bird. A dozen Green Berets jumped inside the chopper. Charlize had been through too much since the bombs fell to ever feel fully safe again, but having a special operations team along for the ride was reassuring.

  Sergeant Andrew Fugate, a thin man with short-cropped red hair and a thick mustache, was in charge of the team. He took a seat across from Charlize, and handed her a flak jacket.

  “Put this on, Madame Secretary,” he said.

  She did as ordered, and Colonel Raymond followed suit with his own vest. It was only a fifteen-minute flight to Fort Lauderdale, but they weren’t taking any chances with security. Charlize looked out over the ocean to the east, watching the golden glow of the sun sparkle over the waves. She couldn’t see them from her vantage point, but she knew the Chinese ships were out there. All across the Eastern Seaboard, the massive boats were beginning to arrive, and more would be hitting ports on the West Coast.

  Initially, the plan had been for General Thor to meet with General Lin, but Charlize had decided it was her responsibility as Secretary of Defense to personally welcome the Chinese General‌—‌and assess the situation.

  “Five minutes,” one of the pilots said over the comms channel.

  Charlize focused on the traffic moving on a road below. Vehicles drove on the highway at the edge of the beach, just like they would have a month earlier. Out on the water, several boats cut through the waves. From up here, it didn’t look like anything had happened at all. Southern Florida had been spared from the devastating effects of the EMP attack. The cities here still had power, but north of Orlando, the United States was still dark. The only vehicles moving there were hardened military units or old cars and trucks built before modern electronics.

  A train snaked along the terrain below, heading north, with a long line of cars packed full of supplies. Across the country, other trains like this one were arriving at their destinations with generators, food, and medicine, while convoys on the highways continued to get hit by raiders. It had been her idea to transport goods the old-fashioned way, by rail. But no matter how hard Charlize worked, it wasn’t enough. They’d still had to turn to foreign governments for help.

  The chopper came in on the eastern edge of Fort Lauderdale, passing over the beaches and the million-dollar mansions built in coves along the harbors. The Stranahan River came into focus, and Charlize got her first view of the Chinese ships.

  Where cruise ships had once docked along the piers of Fort Lauderdale Harbor, there were now a dozen foreign aid ships. Equipment, vehicles, and troops were already being unloaded from the massive ships.

  A month ago, there would have been happy tourists here, waving at departing cruise ships. Not today. Instead, thousands of American citizens were impatiently waiting in the streets for supplies to be distributed, all under the watchful eyes of Chinese soldiers wearing blue camouflage and carrying standard QBZ-95 automatic rifles.

  “We need to keep those civilians back,” she said.

  Raymond agreed with a nod. “They aren’t supposed to be here. The distribution point is another mile to the west. They must have seen the ships and come running.”

  Charlize lost sight of the view as the pilots descended over the US Coast Guard facility on the east side of the river. As soon as they landed, the Green Berets jumped out. Sergeant Fugate led the group, barking orders and gesturing for his men to take up position.

  Raymond went next, then reached up to help Charlize out. She followed the men away from the bird, keeping low, what was left of her black hair whipping in the rotor drafts.

  Thirty-plus American soldiers were already waiting with their rifles cradled. They surrounded her and Raymond on the way to the warehouse that served as a command center. Several Humvees with turrets were waiting outside, guarding the road that led to the beach.

  “Captain Harris,” Charlize said, recognizing a familiar face.

  Captain Zach Harris turned from a conversation with several FEMA staffers. He threw up a salute and said, “Welcome to Fort Lauderdale, Secretary Montgomery.”

  They met in the center of the room. “Glad to see you again, ma’am,” he said, light blue eyes crinkling behind the heavy black frames of his glasses. “I wanted to thank you personally for reassigning me after what happened at the survival center in Charlotte.”

  She stole a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening. Most of the operations center staff were busy working at laptop computers or talking on radios, but she wanted to have this conversation in private.

  “Is there some place we can chat?” she asked.

  Harris led her to a small office. Stacks of boxes marked Coast Guard surrounded a metal desk covered in dust. Raymond waited for them outside the door.

  “I’ll only be a moment,” she said. “Let me know if General Lin arrives.”

  As soon as the door shut, Charlize cut to the chase. “I had you transferred here for a reason,” she said. “What happened in Charlotte was not your fault. In fact, I believe it was inevitable. Gangs have overrun every major city, which is part of the reason we accepted China’s terms.”

  She pulled at the bottom of her blazer to straighten it under her bulletproof vest. “FEMA, first responders, the American military‌—‌they are simply not enough, as you know. We need the foreign aid to get the grid back up and running. And we need men like you.”

  Harris stiffened and held her gaze. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “I was impressed with the way you ran the survival center, and despite the fact it fell, you remained behind with your staff to give others a chance to escape. Even in the chaos, you made sure the men and women under your command did not slaughter the desperate civilians. I respect that.”

  “I was just doing my duty. I’m grateful for the opportunity to run the command center here.”

  Charlize smiled and shook her head. “That’s not your mission now, Captain.”

  He raised his brows over the rims of his glasses. “Ma’am?”

  “I’m assigning you a different role. The most important of your career.” After a short pause, she added, “I want you to work with General Ken Lin, and report everything directly to me. I trust you to be my eyes and ears in this matter.”

  Harris didn’t reply, and she said, “Captain, do you understand what I’m asking you to do?”

  He nodded firmly. “Yes, Secretary Montgomery.”

  A rap on the door told Charlize they were out of time. She opened the door and Raymond confirmed she was correct.

  “The Chinese are here,” he said.

  The room quieted as she approached the front warehouse doors. Growling engines sounded outside. Five Chinese trucks and two black Honggi L5 limousines with tinted windows had pulled up.

  Soldiers poured out of the trucks. One of them opened the side door to the second limo, and a short man with wide shoulders stepped out onto the concrete. He shielded his eyes from the morning sun with a pair of aviator glasses before making his way toward the warehouse. Charlize, Raymond, and Harris walked out to meet him.

  “Good morning, General Lin,” she said.

  “Secretary Montgomery,” Lin said with a thick Chinese accent. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

  “And you, sir.”

  He turned and gestured toward the piers across the river, where the ships were still unloading.

  “On behalf of the People’s Republic of China, I humbly thank you for accepting
our offer to help our American friends rebuild. You have our deepest condolences for the loss of life you have suffered in this outrageous and unprovoked North Korean attack. I assure you that we will do everything we can to help the United States recover as quickly as possible.”

  He smiled warmly. The smile of a politician, she thought to herself. She returned it with one of her own.

  She was good at reading people, and she trusted her instincts more than his words. Nothing Lin said meant anything beyond a well-rehearsed soundbite. She glanced over at Captain Harris, who nodded back with understanding of just how important his mission was to the future of their country.

  _____

  Fenix remained silent in the back seat of a Jeep, the blindfold back over his eyes to make sure he didn’t see where Theo and Hacker were taking him.

  They should have been back at Redford’s compound hours ago, so they were taking him somewhere else. That made sense. They were playing things safe, just in case his Sons of Liberty soldiers were up to something. At least, that’s what Fenix would have done if he were in Redford’s expensive Italian shoes.

  He kept his suspicions to himself, not daring to give Theo or Hacker a reason to search him. He tried to sneak a glance in his pocket for whatever it was that Sergeant Horton had dropped in it back at the cabin, but he couldn’t see. If he had to guess, it was something to help him out of these cuffs.

  The vehicle turned and began accelerating, which told Fenix they were back on a highway. Driving out here in the middle of the day had become increasingly dangerous, but he wasn’t too worried about an ambush. Redford had over a dozen men and automatic rifles in the convoy. The only thing that could stand a chance of stopping them was an armored convoy of American soldiers.

  “You know, I’m kinda surprised your boy Horton didn’t pull any bullshit back there,” Theo said, breaking the silence. “I’m also kind of disappointed.”

  “I told you, I’m a man of my word,” Fenix replied.

  “So am I.”

  Fenix waited for Theo to follow up the comment, but nothing came. He couldn’t tell if Redford’s cousin was an idiot or a wily bastard, and that made him uneasy.

  “Where are we going?” Fenix finally asked.

  Theo chuckled.

  A rustling sounded, like someone moving in a seat, and suddenly the blindfold over Fenix’s eyes lifted. He blinked at the gray light.

  “Take a look for yourself,” Theo said.

  Fenix stared out the window at a highway dotted with stranded vehicles. A light snow was falling, dusting the ground with a layer of white. The mountains formed a fence on the horizon. Everything else was burnt to a crisp. Miles and miles of trees had been reduced to charcoaled logs and blackened sticks protruding out of the dirt. A FEMA sign warned of potential radiation contamination, but that didn’t seem to bother Theo or the driver. The convoy powered forward into the burned wasteland.

  It was a test, Fenix realized. They were taking him somewhere where his men wouldn’t be able to follow easily.

  “Don’t worry, Dan,” Theo said. “Those are our signs. It’s perfectly safe out here.” He grinned, a shit-eating expression that made Fenix want to punch him in the jaw. But he also felt a grudging respect. Redford was a smart man. Putting up signs to keep people off this road was genius. Even if his soldiers could find him, the radiation warnings would likely keep them back.

  The lead truck, a gunmetal Toyota with a rusted-out bed, suddenly jerked to the left. Jade cursed and pushed down on the brakes. Theo turned back to the windshield, reaching for the AR-15 propped up next to the door.

  The Toyota pulled to the side of the road, and the occupants jumped out, rifles shouldered. They moved toward a cluster of stalled cars, shouting at someone ahead.

  “Hold us here, Jade,” Theo said to the driver.

  Hacker pulled out an M9 and chambered a round with a click. “Anyone got eyes on what’s going on?” he asked.

  “I see something,” Theo said, straining to get a look.

  The men from the pickup truck returned a few seconds later with a man holding onto a mountain bike. He was dressed in a white coat, white pants, and a white facemask to match. A gray stocking cap topped his head. The only exposed part of his body were his eyes.

  “Stay here,” Theo said. He got out of the truck, leaving the door open and letting in the cold wind.

  Fenix scooted across the seat for a better look. The guy with the bike stopped about ten feet in front of their Jeep. Theo and his men surrounded him, rifles all pointed at his head. The biker gently sat his bicycle in the snow and raised his hands into the air.

  “Please, please hold your fire,” he said, shielding his head from the guns. Fenix could tell by his posture he wasn’t a soldier. This was just a guy out on his bike, trying to get somewhere in a hurry.

  “What are you doing out here?” Theo asked.

  “I’m trying to deliver a message,” he said. “That’s it, I swear.”

  Theo took a step forward, lowering his rifle. “What message?”

  “A message about the Chinese,” the man said.

  “What about ‘em?”

  “They are here,” the man said, hands shaking.

  Theo stepped forward again. “Dude, calm down and tell me what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “Chinese boats have arrived carrying thousands of soldiers. They’re working with the federal government. I’m supposed to deliver the message to the next town, so we can prepare.”

  Fenix felt his blood boiling. There was no way this could be true. No way the United States government would agree to allow the Chinese army into the country. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Someone in the United States government must have been involved with the North Korean attack‌—‌and the Chinese had to have played a role also.

  He suddenly felt the urge to get out of the Jeep and run. He had to get back to his men. If China was invading, then the fight he had been preparing for his entire life had arrived.

  “That’s bullshit,” Theo said. “We haven’t heard anything about that on the radio.”

  The man lowered a hand, reaching for his pocket. Before Theo could say a word, a gunshot cracked, followed by a second and third.

  The man screamed and stumbled forward, then dropped to his knees. He gripped his chest where one of the bullets had exited. A flower of blood blossomed on his white coat. The facemask fell away, revealing the youthful face of a teenager. Blood bubbled out of his mouth as he tried to speak. In seconds, it was over. He crashed to the ground, dead.

  “You fucking idiot!” Theo yelled at the man who had fired the shots.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I thought he was reaching for a gun.”

  Theo shook his head.

  The dead kid reminded Fenix a bit of Tommy, the pimpled-faced SOL soldier he had tossed out of the Castle for trying to help Ty Montgomery escape.

  Theo moved the kid to his back, and then pulled a bloodstained envelope from his hand. He stood to read it.

  “Holy shit,” Theo said. “The kid wasn’t lying.”

  5

  COLTON WAS DREAMING again. He was back at the Kandahar Air Force Base with PFC Reddker, pursuing the pickup truck.

  The tire track peeled away like the skin of an orange, and the rim screeched across the pavement. Raptor 2 continued firing, rounds peppering the cab of the truck as the driver tried to maintain control. Blood and dust caked the windshield.

  Colton punched the pedal harder. The diesel engine hummed, straining, as they gained speed.

  “They’re toast,” Reddker said.

  The Toyota fishtailed, lost control, and flipped onto its side, tumbling over and over. The back door broke open mid-flip, and a small body flew out.

  Colton almost closed his eyes, but that felt like a cowardly thing to do.

  Fire suddenly exploded from the truck. It rolled to a stop as the underbelly burst into flames. Two of the tires streaked away in a cloud of smoke a
nd shrapnel. Colton slammed on his brakes and stopped the Humvee a few feet away from the tiny, broken figure face down on the tarmac. He put the truck in park and jumped out, the scent of fuel burning his nostrils. Sirens wailed from all directions. The shouts of soldiers and support crew were barely audible over the piercing shrieks.

  A fire truck sprayed the wreckage of the Toyota as Colton rushed over to the Afghani girl.

  “Someone get me a medic!” he shouted.

  With deliberate care, he scooped the child up in his arms and carried her away from the burning pickup truck. The heat burned the back of his fatigues, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the mental pain of seeing the child’s injuries. She had the same dark eyes as his own baby girl. They stared up at him, pleading and terrified.

  “It’s okay,” Colton said in English. Then he changed to Dari. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

  It was a lie. Blood blossomed around what appeared to be a bullet wound. Her chest slowly moved up and down, breath rattling.

  “Hold on,” Colton said in Dari. He ran as fast as he could toward an ambulance. Reddker was still screaming behind him, “Sarge, LT wants you!”

  Colton didn’t care about orders right now. He had to save her. An explosion rocked the tarmac. He shielded the girl from the wave of heat as best as he could. When he looked down, tears were streaking away from her eyes. She tried to say something. Instead, she took in a long, final gasp, and died in his arms, five feet away from the ambulance.

  He awoke in a cold sweat, sitting up so fast his head hurt. No matter what he tried to tell himself, it wasn’t just a bad dream. It had happened, and he would never forgive himself for that girl’s death. He hadn’t saved her, just like he hadn’t saved little Melissa Stone. In his mind’s eye, he saw Kelly and Risa lying in the street, their bodies riddled with bullets.

  In a fit of anger, he grabbed the bars and screamed, “Let me out of here!”

  His voice rang against the walls, but no one answered.