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

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  But not without a fight.

  They had come prepared, with ballistic vests and plenty of ammunition, and Colton had a feeling they were going to need every bullet. He did another scan of the area with his night vision goggles. To the west, a junkyard provided plenty of cover. Their sniper, Susan Sanders, had taken up position there behind a rusted-out Chevy Nova with her bow and a high-powered rifle at the ready. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was there.

  To the east and south were two roads leading back to the city. If anyone was headed their way, they would see them long in advance. Captain Plymouth, Detective Ryburn, and Todd Sanders were a mile back with the two trucks, ready to move in at a moment’s notice. John Kirkus had provided a dozen of his own people to help with the escape, in exchange for a percentage of the supplies they were able to retrieve.

  The plan from here on out was simple. Neutralize the guards. Steal the medicine, food, and supplies. Then book it back to Estes Park, sealing the road behind them. If any of Thompson’s crew gave chase, they would be stopped at one of four checkpoints. If one of the barriers fell, everyone would retreat.

  Colton focused on the two grunt sentries outside the warehouse. He flipped the night vision optics up to scan the area with his naked eyes. The two men were dressed in camouflage and wearing baseball caps. They had smoked three cigarettes so far, which told Colton these guys had plenty more inside. He was going to replenish his own supply, if they had room, although Kelly would not be happy about that.

  For another fifteen minutes, Colton watched and waited to make sure they hadn’t missed any patrols earlier. He balled his hands, flexed his forearms, and wiggled his toes to keep his circulation moving while they waited.

  When the guard on the right lowered his rifle and moved out of the wind to light another cigarette, Colton finally gave the order. An arrow streaked away and hit the man holding the cigarette in his neck, pinning him to the side of the metal wall. By the time the second man realized what had happened, he had an arrow sticking out of his chest, just above his heart. The near miss gave him just enough time to let out a muffled cry and look down at the shaft. Susan let another arrow fly a beat later, hitting him in the heart this time.

  Colton and Dale were moving before the corpse hit the ground. They ran at a hunch, rifles shouldered and aimed at the entrance of the warehouse. When they got there, Dale took up position to the right, and Colton took up a stance to the left.

  He nodded at Dale, and the veteran kicked the door open.

  Colton moved in first, sweeping the barrel around the interior of the warehouse. It was lit by lanterns on the first and second floors. Another guard sat with his feet propped up on a desk in front of a row of metal shelves. The man scrambled for his pistol, but Colton put two bullets into his chest before he could draw the gun. The guard fell backward in his chair, hitting the ground with a thud.

  A shotgun blast punched the wall near Colton, and he dove for cover behind a shelf, peering up at a contact on the second floor. The man was searching for Colton with the barrel of his shotgun, but Dale found him first, squeezing off three shots into the man’s chest. He let out a cry and tumbled over a railing. His body hit one of the shelves, knocking it into the next one and creating a domino effect. In seconds, all ten shelves had slammed into one another, spilling their contents on the ground.

  “Clear,” Dale said.

  Colton already had his walkie-talkie in hand. “Lindsey, we’re good to go,” he said.

  “On my way, Chief.”

  Colton and Dale quickly made sure the hostiles were dead. Then began the search for medicine. That was priority one; the food and other supplies would come next.

  “Over here,” Dale said a few minutes into the search.

  Colton hurried over to find Dale looking through a box of pill containers. “This is the one on the list, right?”

  Colton examined the bottle and nodded. “Bring ‘em all, just in case.”

  “This shit was easier than I expected.” Dale tossed the bottles into his rucksack.

  “We still have to get out of here, and we need to hurry.”

  “Don’t worry. Susan’s got our back, Chief.”

  The two men spent the next five minutes stacking up the medicine and crates of MREs near the garage door. He flung the garage door open and shielded his eyes from bright headlight beams. When they dimmed, he saw a Jeep Cherokee parked outside. Not just any Jeep. It was Raven’s baby. The sons of bitches had stolen her the last time Colton visited Fort Collins.

  Before he could raise his rifle, a voice called out, “Drop your guns or she’s dead.”

  Susan Sanders was on her knees in the dirt with a pistol pointed at the back of her head. Two men stood behind her, the second holding an AK-47 angled at Colton.

  For a moment Colton considered his options. He could tell Dale to open fire and risk getting Susan killed, or they could surrender and hope the men didn’t kill them before Lindsey got here with reinforcements.

  “Easy,” Colton said, slowly lowering his gun to the ground to buy time. He instructed Dale to do the same thing, but Dale shook his head, which was exactly what Colton thought he would do.

  “No way. These men will kill us,” Dale said.

  The man with the AK-47 angled it at Dale. “Drop your gun, or my buddy spills her brains,” he said. “And don’t think about trying anything funny. The sheriff is on his way.”

  “Do it, Dale,” Colton said. He wasn’t sure who had taken over for Thompson, but maybe the man would listen to reason, maybe he would...

  Colton’s faint hopes died when the moonlight illuminated the face of the man with the machine gun.

  It was Jason Cole.

  Colton resisted the urge to pull his holstered pistol and blast the bastard in the face. Jason would definitely kill them both, especially after what Colton and Raven had done to him in the Estes Park jail.

  Dale slowly set his rifle to the ground, and Jason grinned. He nodded at his friend, who pulled the hammer back on the revolver pressed to Susan’s head.

  “NO!” Colton shouted.

  His words were shattered by the crack of gunfire.

  But the sound wasn’t from the pistol or the AK-47.

  A muzzle flash came from the connecting road, where two pickup trucks suddenly flashed their lights, blinding Jason and his comrade. Susan hit the dirt, and Colton scooped his rifle off the ground.

  “Ambush!” Jason yelled.

  Colton fired off a burst as Jason dove for cover under the Jeep. The other man took several rounds to the chest from Dale’s rifle, jerking back and forth before hitting the dirt and going still.

  Jason crawled away while Colton fired bullets that pinged off the undercarriage of Raven’s Jeep. He got down to his belly and prepared to fire, but Jason was already running into the junkyard, his AK-47 lying in the dirt.

  Lindsey and Todd pulled the trucks in front of the building and Colton got back onto his feet.

  “Load ‘em up!” he shouted. “I’ll deal with this prick.”

  Colton ran around the Jeep and into the junkyard, cautious even though Jason had dropped his rifle. Slowing down likely saved Colton’s life. Two bullets zipped past his face. One hit the window of a car right behind him, shattering the glass.

  Crouching down, Colton looked for his target. He saw the man, now holding a pistol, duck behind a truck.

  I got you now, you piece of shit...

  Slowly rising, Colton fired off a volley with his AR-15. The bullets hit the rusted pickup truck Jason was hiding behind. He took off running, and Colton followed him deeper into the junkyard.

  A cloud crossed over the moon, and Colton slowed his pace. He scanned the darkness for shadows and shapes, his rifle up and ready. His boot caught the edge of a tire and he almost lost his balance, but righted himself and fired off a shot at a shadow that moved behind an old tractor.

  Another flash of motion came from the left, and Colton sent a burst in that direction. He crouched
down to listen and watch for movement.

  “Hurry up!” Dale shouted. “We’re about to have company!”

  Colton waited there another few moments, his heart pounding. He hated to leave without Jason. Turning his back on a man like that was a big mistake, but they were running out of time.

  Just as he got up to move, a crunch sounded behind Colton’s back. A rush of fear raced through his body. He stood and whirled, to find Jason had gotten the drop on him.

  “Hey there, Chief,” he said. His lips twisted into a satisfied smile as he raised a pistol at Colton’s head.

  A razor-sharp arrowhead suddenly burst through his open mouth. Colton flinched as a bullet whizzed past his ear with a deafening crack. An instant later, Jason crashed to the ground face first, feet jerking. The back of the arrow protruded from the base of his skull. Susan bent down to snatch it out, placing her boot on his back, and then giving the bolt a good tug.

  “Thanks,” Colton said, unable to hear his own words.

  She nodded, and they hurried back to the trucks, where Dale, Lindsey, and Ryburn were finishing loading the crates into them. Raven’s Jeep was packed too. Colton moved his fingers through the air in a circle, signaling it was time to move out. He jumped into the Jeep with Lindsey, while Susan and Todd took one of the trucks. Dale and Ryburn got into the other truck.

  The convoy sped off, heading west at breakneck speed. Colton watched the warehouse in the rearview mirror. Part of him had been conflicted about taking supplies from people who might need them, but not these men. All he felt was satisfaction. The best part was that they hadn’t left any witnesses behind to point in the direction of Estes Park.

  Lindsey pounded the steering wheel and whistled. “We did it, Chief. We really did it!”

  “We’re not out of the woods yet,” Colton said. He ducked down for a better view out the windshield, scanning the road for vehicles or ambushes. Then he shifted his gaze to the rearview mirror to check on the two trucks packed full of supplies. Seeing them brought a rare smile to his face‌—‌a smile that faded when he saw three pairs of headlights moving on a road to the west that would intersect with their own road soon.

  “More company,” Colton said, cursing. “Gun it, Lindsey.”

  She pushed the pedal to the floor.

  Colton alternated his gaze between the vehicles to the west and the rearview mirror, cursing again when he realized their trucks were falling behind. He pulled his walkie-talkie out and said, “Todd, Dale, we got three hostiles at nine o’clock.”

  “We see ‘em,” Dale said.

  Colton changed the magazine in his AR-15, and then climbed into the back seat. He rolled down the window and jammed the barrel out.

  “This is going to be loud,” he said to Lindsey.

  She nodded without taking her eyes off the road. He pressed the rifle butt against his shoulder, and aimed for the headlights of the front vehicle. The gunfire rattled the windows from the staccato of semi-automatic bursts.

  The convoy continued flying down the road, the drivers undeterred. They were quickly coming up on the intersection, and while Colton was pretty sure Lindsey and Dale would make it through, he wasn’t sure about Todd’s truck. It was falling even farther behind.

  Colton focused on the incoming convoy and continued firing. The lead vehicle finally swerved off the road and into a ditch, the beams flitting skyward, but the second two kept coming.

  “They aren’t going to make it!” Lindsey shouted in the respite of gunfire.

  Colton slapped in another magazine and held in a breath. He could see the details of both vehicles now. The lead appeared to be a pickup truck, and the second was an old-school muscle car.

  He squeezed off burst after burst at the truck. One of the headlights blew out, draping the left side of the road in darkness, but the driver kept speeding onward.

  “Colton, they aren’t stopping!” Lindsey shouted.

  She let off the gas and swerved around an abandoned van, then pushed the pedal back down. Colton squeezed off another volley at the approaching vehicles as they neared the intersection.

  He moved away from the window at the last second as gunfire flashed from the passenger window of the pickup truck. Bullets hit the back of the Jeep, punching through the metal and into the seats next to Colton. He turned to watch Dale’s truck power across the intersection, but Todd’s vehicle was t-boned. The truck tipped over onto its side, and then flipped several times.

  “No!” Lindsey shouted.

  Colton felt his heart climbing into his throat. The headlights of the enemy vehicles remained back at the intersection. Men with rifles jumped out and moved toward the wreckage. A wheel continued spinning.

  “Todd, do you copy?” Colton said into his walkie-talkie.

  “We have to go back,” Lindsey said.

  Muzzle flashes lit up the road, and Colton slowly lowered his radio. It was too late to save Todd and his wife. Even if they had survived the crash, they were dead now.

  It was a hard pill to swallow, considering Susan had just saved his life in the junkyard, but he couldn’t put everyone else in jeopardy to bring them home.

  “Keep driving, Lindsey,” he said.

  “But Marcus...”

  “That’s an order, Captain.”

  Colton climbed back into the front seat and tried to keep his eyes off the mirrors. Looking back wouldn’t do them any good now. They sped away from muzzle flashes and crack of gunfire. Lindsey sobbed, and Colton worked on managing his breathing. Neither of them said a word for several moments.

  The road curved, and Colton focused on the mountains in the distance. They would cross over into friendly territory soon, but the trip had come at a dire cost.

  Squawking from the radio made him flinch, and he looked down at the device as a voice crackled over.

  “Marcus, you listenin’?” came a very familiar voice.

  Lindsey looked over, confused, as Colton pushed the radio up to his mouth.

  “Who is this?”

  “I’m hurt you don’t know,” said the same deep voice. “It’s your favorite neighborhood sheriff.”

  Colton blinked, trying to make sense of what he was hearing. He knew who it sounded like, but there was no way it was Sheriff Thompson. He’d watched him die.

  “Next time, aim for the face, Marcus,” Thompson said. “Or at least make sure your man isn’t wearing a vest.”

  Colton thought back to the day he’d gunned Thompson down on the side of the road. He’d shot him in the chest, but had never checked his pulse or ensured he was dead.

  “Shit,” Colton whispered.

  “I’ve been waiting for this day a long time,” Thompson said. “You messed my plan up tonight, but I promise you that you’re dead, and so is everyone you love. Enjoy your present when you get home.”

  The radio shut off, and Colton looked to Lindsey.

  “What does he mean?” she asked, fear gripping her features.

  “Drive, Lindsey. Drive like the lives of everyone you love depend on it.”

  Colton had a feeling they did.

  17

  FENIX SAT IN the shotgun seat of a Humvee on Highway 7, just three miles south of Estes Park. The heat from the vents warmed his face as they waited. He reached up and adjusted his helmet, then patted his ballistic vest.

  Armed with a brand new M4 and “four eyes” night vision goggles, he was fully prepared for battle, and so were the Brandenburger Commandos. They were positioned on the side of the road, waiting for a radio update from his scouts.

  “You sure about this, sir?” Horton asked from the driver’s seat. “Why the hell are we the ones attacking tonight? Why isn’t Thompson sending men?”

  “Goddammit, Horton, we’ve been through this. You just don’t get politics, do you?”

  Horton looked over, his jaw set.

  “Don’t get your panties in a wad,” Fenix said. “We’re softening the defenses, and getting the intel Thompson will need for his attack tomorrow
. Think of this as just a recon mission. A very fun recon mission that will net us that damn Indian and his family.”

  The new radio they had plucked from a Chinese vehicle barked to life.

  “Sir, looks like the town militia has mostly been moved to beef up their defenses on Highway 34. The vehicles that left earlier were heading to Fort Collins.”

  Fenix raised a brow at that. “What the hell are they doing in Fort Collins?”

  “Raiding a warehouse owned by Sheriff Thompson. I just got off the horn with him. He’s fucking pissed, sir, but he said to proceed with your mission. He needs that intel for his attack tomorrow.”

  “Roger that.”

  “Good luck, sir.”

  Fenix tucked the radio back in his vest and dipped his helmet at Horton. “Let’s roll, Sergeant.”

  Horton put the vehicle in gear and pulled back onto the road. Fenix shouted up to the soldier manning the turret. “Miles, trade me spots.”

  As soon as the young commando came down from the turret, Fenix took his spot on the big gun. Grabbing the M240, he roved the pintle mount into position. Fenix blinked at the green hue of his night vision goggles and waited for his eyes to adjust.

  The other two vehicles were following them at combat intervals, just in case Chief Colton had ambushes set up out here. Fenix doubted the man was that cunning. He might actually be dumber than Fenix thought, trying to raid a warehouse owned by Thompson.

  The sheriff owned everything east of Estes Park now. After taking down the FEMA camp, he had also taken over Loveland. In just two months, Thompson had built quite the empire for himself. That’s part of the reason Fenix had decided to join forces. They needed each other.

  He turned to look at the pickups following the Humvee. Both of them had once belonged to the Chinese, but now sported fresh black paint. He smiled proudly at the Sons of Liberty logo on the hoods. Then he swiveled the mount back to the front of the vehicle, the wind blasting his exposed face as Horton picked up speed. They weren’t far now.