Raven scowled. He was not in the mood to give a lesson on folklore.
“Sorry, man, not trying to be offensive. Just curious. I don’t know much about the, uh, indigenous peoples.”
“We’re called American Indians. That’s the politically correct term, at least.”
“Sorry, I meant American Indians.”
Raven shrugged. “I don’t get my panties in a bunch about it, but it does piss me off when people don’t understand why it might be offensive to call us redskins. I don’t call you an albino skin, do I?”
Dale pulled off his hat, ran his hand through his hair, and sighed. “I get it, man. I’m sorry.” He checked the magazine in his AR-15 and then looked out the window, lapsing into silence.
By the time the sun went down, they had driven fifty miles without seeing a single person. Raven figured the radiation still had people scared, which was good. The less contact they had on this trip, the better.
He waited until the final rays of light receded on the horizon and then pulled to the side of the road to put on the night vision goggles. Once his eyes had adjusted to the green hue, he pulled back onto the road and continued south.
“We’re getting close,” Dale said. The map was draped over his lap, and he used a flashlight to check it every few minutes.
About five miles north of Granby, Raven finally saw a flicker of movement across the road. He brought the van to a stop behind an abandoned pickup truck and killed the engine. He grabbed his Glock, and Dale readied his rifle.
“What do you see?” Dale asked, leaning forward to look out the windshield.
Raven focused on the shapes moving along the shoulder of the road. “Horses and men.”
“They armed?”
“Can’t tell.”
Dale moved to open the van door, but Raven grabbed his arm.
“Just keep quiet and stay inside. They’re heading our way,” Raven said. He counted six men, and now he could see they were armed with rifles and shotguns.
Raven caught a glimpse of motion in the rearview mirror, and cursed when he saw more horses a quarter mile behind them.
“Shit, we’re trapped,” he said.
Dale looked over his shoulder and heaved a breath. “I can’t see anything.”
“Get down,” Raven said. He twisted the key to turn the van back on, but the engine whined, not turning over.
“You got to be fucking kidding me,” Dale said.
“Shut up, man.”
“Bro, don’t tell me to—”
Raven turned the key again, his eyes closed, pleading with the van. “Come on, baby.”
The starter clicked again but didn’t turn over. When he opened his eyes, the horses ahead were moving faster, and several voices rang out. The men had spotted the van.
“We’ve been made,” Raven said. He considered telling Dale to bail and making a run for it, but he decided to try the key a third time. It finally caught, and the engine growled to life. With no time to waste, he punched the pedal down to the floor. The tires squealed.
“Go, go, go!” Dale shouted.
Raven steered the van around the pickup and into the center of the two-lane highway. The horses were moving into the road to block their escape. Driving on the shoulder wasn’t an option; there was no way the tires were going to make it on an off-road trip. Times like these, he really missed his Jeep.
“Dale, roll down your window and shoot over the front of the hood,” Raven said. “Aim for the center of the road, at those horses!”
“You serious, man? I—”
The boom of a shotgun cut Dale off. Pellets punched through the windshield and peppered the back seat.
“Son of a bitch!” Dale shouted. He quickly rolled down the window and then leaned outside with the rifle, squeezing off several bursts at the horses.
Raven hated seeing the beasts hurt, but if it came down to his survival, he wasn’t going to die out here. He pushed down on the pedal as far as it would go and drove right for the horses. One of them bucked its rider out of the saddle like a rag doll.
At the last second, the other mounted shooters moved the horses away, but not before one of them fired a shotgun blast that punched through the side of the van.
Dale let out a cry, but Raven focused on maneuvering through the gap between the horses. The tires screeched and the rusty chassis clanked as they shot through the narrow pass.
Another shot followed them, taking out the back window and raining glass on the seats. Dale and Raven both ducked as two more booms sounded. Pellets lanced into the back of the truck, penetrating the rusty metal, but within minutes they were out of range.
Raven loosened his grip on the steering wheel, chest heaving. “You okay, Dale?”
Dale managed a nod, but his hand was gripping his shoulder.
“You hit?” Raven said.
“Just a flesh wound.”
“You sure?”
“I’m good. Trust me, I’ve been hit way worse before.”
Raven focused on the road, steering around abandoned vehicles, while Dale put a bandage on his shoulder. Several pellets had punctured his skin, but he was right that it was just a flesh wound.
“Who the hell were those guys?” Dale muttered.
“I didn’t get a look. Probably just raiders.” Raven glimpsed a sign for Granby and jerked his chin at the map on the floor.
Dale finished with the bandage and grabbed the map. “Looks like it’s the second exit, then you pull onto a frontage road and head east for a mile.”
Raven found the exit a few minutes later and turned onto a dirt frontage road. He could see the outline of Granby in the distance. The moon had emerged, splitting through the clouds and spreading soft white light over the sleeping city.
“Robbie said the house is somewhere on the other side of those woods,” Raven said. He parked the van and jumped out into the cold night, his boots crunching on the frozen dirt. He met Dale around the other side of the van, and they loaded up on gear and ammunition.
“You sure about this?” Raven asked.
Dale looked down at his shoulder. “Brother, I’m fine.”
Raven holstered his Glock and then grabbed his AR-15. “Follow me, and keep quiet.”
Raven flipped his night vision goggles back over his eyes and led Dale into the forest. The leaf-covered ground crunched under their boots no matter how slowly they moved. It was dead quiet out here, with not even the call of a bird to break the silence. Raven stopped every few minutes to listen, trying to identify any sounds out of the ordinary. He sniffed the air to check for smoke, and picked up the scent of a fire. Someone was definitely out there.
Flashing a hand signal, Raven continued onward with Dale walking cautiously through the forest behind him. The big man was doing a pretty good job of keeping his foot impacts low considering he only had moonlight to guide him.
Although Raven wished Creek was here, he was also anxious about bringing the dog anywhere again. He had taken a bullet for his handler, and seeing the Akita suffer broke Raven’s heart. Not that he would be happy if Dale got shot again, but it was different. Creek was his best friend.
“There,” Dale whispered, pointing.
Raven saw the mansion a moment later. The building was situated on the shore of a lake, overlooking the sparkling water. At first scan, the property appeared empty. Not a single sentry in sight, but smoke was fingering away from one of the chimneys on the east side of the house. He moved toward the edge of the trees and crouched down. Dale joined him and took up position behind a pine.
“You see anyone?” he asked.
Raven shook his head. He got up and prepared to move, but froze. Flipping up the goggles, he laid eyes on what looked like the burning end of a cigarette.
“One contact,” he said quietly.
Lowering the goggles back over his eyes, he focused on the man sitting on the porch. The man got up a few minutes later, after throwing away the cigarette, and walked back inside.
“Come on,” Raven said.
He led Dale out into a clearing, and they made their way across the grass to a tall metal fence. About a quarter mile to the east, the front gate was wide open.
Mr. Redford would never leave the front door unlocked.
Raven crushed something under his boot. He reached down and plucked a spent shell casing off the ground. Then he saw the others. There were hundreds of spent rounds littered across the dirt.
A fight had gone down here.
He flipped his NVGs back over his eyes and examined the house. From this new vantage point, he could see it had been hit by thousands of rounds that had shattered windows, chipped the facade, and destroyed the overhang.
Not a fight at all.
A battle.
“What’s wrong?” Dale asked.
“We’re too late,” Raven said.
He did another quick scan of the property. In the gardens, he saw them.
Severed heads. At least a dozen, all mounted on pikes.
“Fucking hell,” Raven whispered.
“Dude, what?” Dale asked. “You’re freaking me out.”
“Stay here, and cover me if someone starts shooting,” Raven said. He took off running before Dale could reply. Keeping low, Raven moved into the gardens, using the shrubbery for cover. He made his way over to the front porch and examined the heads. They were a grisly spectacle, but he didn’t immediately recognize any of them.
He navigated his way onto the porch, seeing a glow of light coming from one of the rooms on the first floor. After he cleared the area, he moved to the back door, trying the handle.
Raven slung his rifle and slowly picked the lock with his knife. The door creaked open in front of him. He sheathed his knife, pulled both of his hatchets from his back, and moved into a dark kitchen.
Light bled into the room from under the door. He stopped to listen, hearing a rustling noise in the next room. He flipped the NVGs up and then reached for the door. It was ajar, and he slowly pushed it open to see a man warming his hands in front of a fire. A rifle was propped up against the wall.
Raven again stopped to listen, but all he heard was the crackle of burning wood. He moved for a better view, and noticed the swastika on the man’s neck. This wasn’t one of Redford’s men.
As soon as he saw this guy was a Nazi, Raven kicked the door open and then tossed both of the hatchets. One of the blades hit the man in the back with a thump, and the other struck him in the right leg. He grabbed the fireplace mantle, screaming in agony. The sounds didn’t draw any other hostiles, but Raven unslung his rifle and raised it just in case the man wasn’t alone.
The Nazi thug dropped to the ground. Raven waited for a few seconds, gaze flitting back and forth from the stairs to the man who was trying to crawl away.
Hearing nothing but groans, Raven followed the trail of blood streaking across the expensive carpet. He bent down next to the man, who turned on his side to look at Raven.
“What did you do with Redford?” Raven asked.
The man chuckled up bloody bubbles. His eyes flitted up toward the wall, and Raven pivoted to see a collection of mounted trophies. An elk, an eight-point buck, and several other kills. But there was something else there, something that was out of place.
Raven took a step over just to make sure he was seeing clearly in the faint light of the fire. He swallowed as his brain finally confirmed what his eyes were seeing.
A bloody human head hung among the hunting trophies.
This one, he recognized.
It belonged to Nile Redford.
11
ALBERT RANDALL WAS doing his best not to eavesdrop on the conversation between Charlize and Colonel Raymond, but he found it hard to ignore.
“Secretary Montgomery, I just got another report of an attack that has SOL written all over it,” Raymond said. “Fenix and his men are active, ma’am.”
Albert stood outside her office door with Dave and Ty, all of them waiting for Charlize to finish some last-minute work before she left Constellation for another trip.
Albert loosened his flak jacket while he waited. The vest was a better fit than the one from Charlotte. This time it covered his stomach where the bullet had ripped through his abdomen and torn up his insides. After three weeks of recovery, he was finally back on his feet with a new mission. His injuries were still hurting, but he was glad to be out of that hospital bed.
“I really want to come with you, Mr. Big Al,” Dave said, pulling on Albert’s sleeve. “You promised the Fellowship wasn’t over.”
Albert put a finger to his lips and strained to listen to the conversation inside the office.
“How do we know it was SOL?” Charlize was asking.
“Swastikas carved at the scene and some very brazen anti-Chinese graffiti,” Raymond replied. “It’s got to be SOL, unless there are more Nazi groups in Colorado.”
Albert didn’t want the kids to hear this. He grabbed the back of Ty’s wheelchair and pushed him away. Dave followed them across the hallway, still talking about hobbits.
“I won’t be gone long,” Albert said. “Then I’ll come back, and—”
Dave shook his shaggy hair. “No!” he shouted.
Several personnel walking down the hallway glanced in their direction. Albert let out a sigh and got down on one knee, pain racing up his gut. He gritted his teeth. The doctors had told him certain movements were still going to hurt, and they were right, as usual.
“See, you can’t go without me, you’re still in pain from the last Orc. This time the Orcs might kill you, Mr. Big Al.” Dave blinked rapidly, his eyes shining with frustrated tears. “You need me.”
“I’ll be fine. You have to be strong and look after the people here while I’m gone. That’s your mission now.” Albert put a hand on Dave’s shoulder.
A single tear fled the boy’s eye and streaked down his cheek. He looked down at his tennis shoes, his small potbelly rising up and down with his labored breathing.
“Okay?” Albert asked.
“Yeah, okay,” Dave whispered.
“We’ll have fun,” Ty said.
“And I’ll bring you back a DVD of Lord of the Rings,” Albert said.
Dave looked up with the hint of a smile forming on his lips. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
Albert stood and walked over to the office door. Charlize and Raymond were still deep in discussion. He caught her eye, and tapped on his watch to indicate it was time to go. Charlize nodded back. He was already late, and if she didn’t hurry, she was going to be as well.
“Every time we send out a team, Fenix and his men are gone before we can get there,” Raymond said.
“I don’t want to risk another American life until we know for certain that it’s SOL,” Charlize said. “Let’s talk more on the flight.”
Albert could hear the frustration rising in her voice, but she held it in check. It had been two months since the North Korean attack, and over a month since her brother had been brought home in a casket from Colorado. Her fuse had been growing shorter as the guilt piled up on her shoulders. But, she had recently changed her approach, saving her anger for the people who had kidnapped Ty and killed her brother instead of venting it at every little frustration.
Two weeks ago, she had confessed to Albert how powerless and angry she felt. “I’d kill every single one of them if I could,” she had said.
“With all due respect, ma’am, of course you would. They’re Nazis,” Albert had replied. “I would give my life to stop them too. This isn’t just about your son. It’s about stamping out a terrorist organization before the virus spreads.”
She had nodded along, but Albert could tell he wasn’t really getting through to her. He worried that Charlize was after revenge, not justice.
“Okay, let’s go,” Charlize said as she stepped out of her office and hugged Ty goodbye. Albert held out a hand to Dave.
“Give me a high-five, buddy,” Albert said.
> Dave rolled his eyes, then slapped Albert’s hand so hard the smack echoed.
“That hurt,” Albert said.
Dave grinned from ear to ear. “Oops.”
“You guys done?” Charlize asked, smiling.
Albert stiffened. “Yes, ma’am.”
Dave followed his lead, straightening his back and throwing up a salute.
A few minutes later, the kids were sent back to class, and Albert was following Charlize and Raymond toward the elevator. It took them another fifteen minutes to get to the surface through the labyrinth of tunnels, lifts, and trams that made up Constellation.
A dozen Green Berets, led by Sergeant Fugate, were waiting for them outside the blast doors. Breaking up into two groups, they took Zodiacs to the opposite shore. Thirty minutes later, they arrived at an isolated airfield on the mainland.
An armored MATV was idling on the nearby road. Albert took a second to admire it as he walked with the group toward the helicopter landing pad. The mine-resistant vehicle was the American military’s answer to the epidemic of roadside IEDs in Iraq and Afghanistan. It had replaced the Humvee in most combat zones, and seeing it in the United States reminded Albert of just how severe it was out on the highways. And he was about to head out there to see it firsthand. Again.
“There’s our ride, ma’am,” Raymond said. He pointed at the sky, where a tiny black dot was crossing the skyline.
Charlize turned to face Albert. “You’re sure about this?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” His response was polite, but firm. “I’m sick of lying in that bed or walking those halls. And between you and me, Dave is getting on my nerves.”
Charlize smiled. It was odd seeing the sun on her face after so long underground, and he noticed a few new wrinkles. They had both lost so much over the last few months.
Just thinking of his wife and daughters hurt him worse than any bullet. Jane had been the light of his life, and his girls, Kylie and Abigail, had been full of so much potential that would now never be realized. It broke his heart—and, if he was being honest, it made him crave revenge at least as much as Charlize did. His brother, Fred, had also perished in the blast that leveled D.C., so the only family left was his sister. And, once again, he was leaving her behind.
Trackers 4: The Damned (A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series) Page 12
