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

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “Evenin’, Nurse Spears,” he said.

  “Hello, Dale.”

  She put her back up to the van and watched Colton and his family inside the lobby.

  “Nice to see a happy reunion for once,” she said.

  Dale dipped his hat in assent.

  A few minutes later, Colton and his family walked into the parking lot. He was doing his best not to limp, from the looks of it, but Sandra could see when someone was trying to mask pain. Humans were just like animals. There were other tells, like a clenched jaw.

  “Drop me and Sandra off at town hall,” Colton instructed Dale. “Then give my family a lift home.”

  “You got it, Chief,” Dale said.

  By the time they got to the town hall, it was close to midnight. Colton said goodbye to his family and then led Sandra to the conference room, where several folks were huddled around the table listening to a radio. Raven and Lindsey were there, along with Mayor Gail Andrews and the town administrator, Tom Feagen.

  “Fifty thousand Chinese boots on the ground, and twenty-five thousand soldiers,” Raven said. “Plus fighter jets. It’s a lot of firepower.”

  “Chief’s back,” Lindsey said.

  Raven glanced over, seeing Sandra first. “What the heck are you doing here, sis?”

  Sandra walked over to give him a quick hug. “Colton asked me to come to the briefing so I can tell the doctors what’s going on.”

  “Have a seat everyone,” Colton said. He waited a few minutes, pacing, while several more people joined them in the conference room, including Margaret the dispatcher. Sandra took a seat next to Lindsey. The detective continued listening to the radio while they waited.

  After everyone had gathered, Colton cleared his throat and said, “I called this meeting to tell you what’s going on out there, and to make some changes in light of the situation with Don Aragon and Sam Hines.” He directed his gaze to Mayor Andrews.

  “Your tenure as mayor is over,” Colton said. His eyes shifted to Feagen. “You’re out, too, Tom.”

  “What?” Gail said, taking off her glasses. “You can’t just‌—‌”

  Colton pounded the table with a fist, the sound echoing through the room and silencing the woman.

  “You’re out, Gail. You and Tom can clean out your offices, but then you need to get the hell out of this building. I don’t want to see you here ever again,” Colton snapped.

  The raw anger in his voice frightened Sandra. She had never seen the chief act like this before.

  “You can’t do that,” Feagen said. “You don’t have the authority. Mayor Andrews is an elected official.”

  “We’re under martial law, Tom, and we have a foreign army on our soil now. Things don’t work the way they used to. You’re lucky I don’t throw you both in jail,” Colton said.

  “On what charge?” Gail asked.

  “How about conspiring to kill Raven and me?” Lindsey said.

  Raven bobbed his head. “If it were up to me, we’d kick you both out of town to fend for yourselves.”

  “You were too close to Don all along, Gail,” Colton said. “I don’t trust you anymore. And Tom, you’re weak. I need strong people running this town.”

  “Yeah,” Raven said again.

  Lindsey walked over to Gail and gestured toward the door. “Go and pack up your things,” Lindsey said.

  “This is crazy,” Gail said. “You won’t get away with it.”

  Sandra stepped up next to Lindsey to show her support. She had never been a fan of the mayor, but hearing she might have known something about Don’s plot to kill her brother made her blood boil.

  Colton jerked his bruised chin toward the door. “Get out,” he said firmly.

  The former mayor and her second in command both glared at Colton, but then filed out of the room muttering darkly to each other.

  “Guess we’re going to have to hold another election,” Lindsey said.

  Colton shook his head. “Right now our focus is on survival.”

  “You told us to prepare for war,” Raven said. “What did you mean?”

  “We’ve got a lot of enemies out there. Not just Thompson’s goons. Men like Fenix and Redford. And winter isn’t far off.”

  “Damn, we just never catch a break, do we?” Lindsey said with a slow head shake.

  “We will survive if we’re smart,” Colton said. “I was stupid to leave Estes Park and try and negotiate with Thompson. He may be dead, but his people have some of our supplies.”

  “I’m sorry,” Raven said.

  Colton palmed the table, displaying bloodied knuckles. “I want an updated inventory of the food and supplies after today’s charity run. And I want a plan to get back what you guys handed over earlier today.”

  Raven stared at the Chief’s hands and wondered how many lives the chief had taken today with those hands, but he decided it didn’t matter. Whatever happened from here on out was justified if it meant saving their families. He and Colton were both prepared to do whatever it took.

  “You hear me, Sam?”

  Raven nodded. “Loud and clear, Chief.”

  9

  FENIX OPENED THE breach to make sure the .357 Magnum was fully loaded with six bullets. He snapped it shut with a smile, holstered the gun, and then grabbed his suppressed M4.

  The convoy of Sons of Liberty vehicles was stopped on a dirt road at the edge of a dense forest. Sergeant Horton sat in the back seat of a Jeep with Fenix, listening to chatter over a handheld radio.

  “Hacker says this is the place,” Horton confirmed.

  Fenix twisted around to look out the back window at Hacker. The former associate of Nile Redford had provided a map to this place, and while Fenix didn’t completely trust him, they didn’t have any choice if they wanted to find the boss.

  “Let’s move out, but tell the men to be cautious. This could be a trap,” Fenix said.

  Horton gave the order over the radio. Twenty-four SOL soldiers piled out of trucks and Jeeps and fanned out toward the forest with their weapons in combat position, sweeping for contacts. It was two in the morning and freezing, but the temperature wasn’t going to deter these patriots from doing what they needed to do.

  Splitting off into four teams, the soldiers moved toward their target‌—‌Nile Redford’s mansion. It hadn’t taken much for Hacker‌—‌whose real name turned out to be Tony‌—‌to give up the location. Fenix had promised him a job, and Hacker had put his finger on the map quicker than a hooker taking a Benjamin for services rendered.

  That’s what Hacker was now‌—‌a prostitute. Fenix would have laughed if he wasn’t prepping for battle.

  He got out of the truck with Horton and did a quick scan of the area. They were just west of Granby, Colorado, about fourteen miles from Rocky Mountain National Park and eighty-five miles west of Denver.

  The last of the fire-teams vanished into the woods, leaving only the drivers and a few sentries with Fenix and Horton. The men had the element of surprise, but some of them would still die tonight. Maybe even Fenix himself. But it was worth the risk.

  “Bring Hacker over here,” Fenix said.

  Horton flashed a hand signal and waited for the prisoner. Hacker kept low, like he was worried about getting hit. That told Fenix they were in the right place.

  “You’re sure Redford is here?” Fenix asked.

  Hacker nodded.

  “You wouldn’t lie to me, now would you, Tony?” Fenix asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “Good. Now follow me.”

  Fenix flashed a hand signal and Sergeant Horton took point. He moved toward the forest with his rifle shouldered. Fenix and four other SOL soldiers led Hacker into the woods with rifles at the ready.

  These were the same guns his men had given to Theo earlier that day. Funny how that worked, Fenix thought to himself. Now they were going to be used to exterminate the rest of Nile Redford’s henchmen, and take everything the bastard owned.

  Horton balled his hand into
a fist as they entered a clearing. Fenix looked over his shoulder and flashed a shit-eating grin at the man who was going to help the Sons of Liberty enter the Redford compound. Hacker was crouched next to the trunk of a tree, his hands bound and his weapons removed.

  “How does it feel to have the tables turned?” Fenix whispered.

  “I told you, I never liked Nile much,” Hacker replied.

  “We’ll see about that,” Fenix said, pulling out a radio from his vest. He held it up to Hacker’s mouth. “Go ahead,” he said.

  “White Crow, this is Hacker. Reporting in. All is well here, over.”

  Static crackled from the speaker for several seconds before a voice replied. “Copy that, Hacker. Talk to you in the mornin’.”

  Fenix pulled the radio back. “How many men did you say are posted here?”

  A shrug from Hacker. “Maybe a dozen. Could be less, could be a few more. Just depends.”

  “Depends on what?” Fenix asked.

  “How many Redford decided to post. I don’t know, man. It just depends on the night.”

  “What do you think, Sarge?” Fenix asked.

  “I think we can take ‘em. We got the cover of darkness and the element of surprise.”

  “I agree,” Fenix replied. “Let’s move in.”

  A messy flood of adrenaline soaked into his nerve endings. It was the calm before the storm, something that always came right before combat.

  And Fenix loved it to his core.

  Horton crept up to where a man named Geoff Hough was posted with a sniper rifle. Fenix tucked the radio back in its pouch pocket and then patted Hacker on the shoulder.

  “You better hope they bought it, or you’re going to be very sorry,” Fenix said. He motioned for one of the other men to guard Hacker, and then moved up next to Horton, using the time to scan the mansion on the other side of the fort of trees.

  It was an impressive house with a brick and stone façade and a wrap-around porch overlooking a small lake at the center of the property. He counted at least four chimneys sprouting from the roof. Sprawling gardens and fancy metal fences surrounded the ten-acre plot.

  “Three contacts,” Horton said.

  Fenix took up position next to the sergeant. The red glow of a cigarette gave away the position of one of the sentries, but Fenix strained to make out the silhouette of the man in the darkness. He borrowed the night vision goggles. Sure enough, three men were patrolling the porch. He handed the goggles to Hough next.

  “Take ‘em down,” Fenix ordered.

  The suppressed crack came a second later, and Fenix watched the lit cigarette fall to the porch floor along with a body. Two more cracks followed, and two more bodies hit the ground.

  Horton flashed a hand signal, and the fire-team bolted out of the tree line and toward the drive that twisted up to the massive metal gate.

  Two more sentries had been posted here, but both were already on the ground with what looked like massive toothpicks sticking out of their backs.

  Indians dead from arrows, Fenix thought, smiling at the irony. The SOL soldier that had fired the crossbow was working on cutting the lock off the gate with bolt cutters.

  On the eastern side of the forest, the other fire-teams came striding out, weapons up, moving in combat intervals. They were just shadows in the darkness. As soon as the gate was opened, the teams came together, flooding the property. They had made it halfway through the gardens before gunfire cracked from a third-story window.

  “Find cover!” Horton yelled.

  He didn’t need to tell the men. They were already fanning out and taking up cover behind hedges and brick walls.

  “Bring in the trucks!” Fenix shouted.

  The engines growled. More shots rang out from the porch as Redford’s men figured out what was happening. It wasn’t the way Fenix had planned on things going down, but they still had the numbers.

  He took up position behind a brick wall, keeping his head low. The pickups and a Jeep pulled onto the road about a quarter mile behind them.

  A shout came from his right, and he glanced over to see one of his men take two bullets to the chest. He hit the ground and squirmed for several seconds before going still.

  All around Fenix, muzzle flashes lit up the night like drunk fireflies. A round chipped the brick overhead, and he got down to his belly. He crawled to the side of the ledge and peeked around the corner, counting six shooters behind the windows, and five more on the porch.

  Another SOL soldier dove for cover next to Fenix before he could fire on any of the targets. It was John Stone, a thirty-year-old staff sergeant who had served under Fenix in Iraq, and he was bleeding bad.

  “I’m hit, General,” Stone choked, gripping his gut.

  Even in the weak light, Fenix could see the man wasn’t going to make it. Not without medical support.

  “Hang in there, John,” Fenix said. Then he shouted, “Get the M240 up here!”

  As if in answer, the big gun mounted to the back of the pickup truck barked. Tracer rounds streaked into the mansion, shattering brick and glass.

  “Hell yes, that’s what I’m talking about,” Fenix said. He turned back to Stone. “We’re going to get you out of...” His words trailed off when he saw the man was already dead, his eyes staring up at the moon.

  “Shit,” Fenix muttered. He propped up a leg and aimed his M4 over the wall at the porch. He squeezed off a barrage of automatic fire at one of the enemy shooters.

  God, it felt good to fire a gun again.

  He held down the trigger, not caring about his ammunition. There was plenty of it, and from what Hacker said, there was a ton of brass and weapons in the basement of the mansion.

  Fenix centered the barrel on the other muzzle flash, hitting his target with grim satisfaction. Taking the life of an enemy was one of the greatest feelings in the world. There was no rush of power quite like it.

  The 7.62 mm rounds from the big gun on the truck slammed into the side of the house, punching through stone and brick, and shattering glass with cracks and thumps. The man on the big gun was an expert. He raked it back and forth, making the enemy on the porch run for cover while the other SOL soldiers picked them off.

  Or, at least, the soldiers should have been picking them off. Fenix looked around him to see his men waiting for the M240 to do all the work.

  “Fire!” Fenix shouted. “Everyone fucking fire!”

  He came up on one knee again to lead by example. The automatic gunfire returned from all directions. The noise rose into a din that made his head hurt, but it was still music to his ears.

  Fenix ejected another spent magazine, plucked one from his vest, and then continued firing. The overhang on the porch crashed to the ground, and a gutter fell away from the building. Hunks of broken stone pummeled the dirt and flowerbeds around the house.

  A final muzzle flash came from the third-floor window. The man was a brave bastard, but stupid. Fenix aimed his rifle at the last guard‌—‌along with every other SOL soldier.

  Hundreds of bullets hit the window all at once, shattering the frame and breaking away the brick exterior. The man toppled out, crashing to the porch below.

  “Hold your fire!” someone yelled. It took another shouted order before the gunfire finally ceased.

  Fenix watched the house for movement, moving his barrel across the façade and broken windows.

  “That looks like all of ‘em,” called a hoarse voice.

  “Bring me Hacker,” Fenix replied. It took a few minutes, but Horton finally brought the man across the battlefield.

  “Twelve to fifteen guards, my ass,” Fenix said.

  Hacker didn’t reply, and Fenix scrutinized him in the dim light. From the look of it, he was shivering. Fenix wasn’t sure if it was from fear or the cold. If it wasn’t the latter, then he had grossly underestimated the man. He scanned Hacker again, raised a nostril, and then handed the radio to him.

  “Tell your boss to get out here,” Fenix said, spitting in the
dirt.

  Hacker relayed the message as the SOL soldiers moved in. Fenix counted twenty soldiers, bringing their losses to just four from the fire-teams.

  Not bad at all.

  The men stopped beyond the porch, their rifles aimed at the front door. It creaked open a few minutes later, and a man wearing a suit stepped out holding a hat with a red feather. He put it on his head, and then gripped his shoulder.

  He thinks I’m going to take him prisoner. That’s why he threw on his suit and hat, Fenix thought.

  “You got me, General!” Redford shouted. “You won.”

  Fenix left his position and slowly walked over, cautious but confident.

  “Where’s my cousin?” Redford asked, looking at Hacker.

  Fenix stopped at the bottom of the steps. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag containing Theo’s eyeballs, which he then tossed onto the porch.

  “This is what’s left of him,” Fenix said with a half shrug.

  Redford looked down at the package, and then back at Fenix, his jaw clenched with rage.

  “You really thought you could win this?” Fenix asked dryly. “You really thought you could beat the Sons of Liberty?”

  He didn’t wait for Redford to reply, and gestured for Hacker. The man moved forward and stood at the bottom of the steps. Redford’s eyes widened in confusion before realization set in.

  Fenix drew the .357 Magnum he’d taken from Theo and handed it to Hacker.

  “Show me you really want to work for the Sons of Liberty, and finish this,” Fenix said. Then he turned and walked away. Three beats later, a gunshot cracked behind him.

  A smile broke across Fenix’s face at the sound of Redford’s body hitting the porch. Fenix stopped and walked back to the porch, realizing he had forgotten part of what he’d come to collect.

  Walking up the stairs, he then bent down next to Redford’s corpse and plucked the hat off his head. Blood splatter had soiled the rim and he wiped it on the front of Redford’s fancy suit.

  Fenix stood and placed the hat on, smiling at his men. “What do you boys think?”