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

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  Normally she would have felt the messy adrenaline rush that came with flying into battle. But this time she wasn’t in the cockpit; she was in the troop hold of a Black Hawk, and right now there was nothing but anger coursing through her veins. She had waited a long time for a chance to get Dan Fenix, and that moment had finally arrived.

  The bulkheads vibrated from the rumble of the squadron of fighter jets. The F-22 Raptor led them this time, and the two Chinese L-15/JL-10 tailed close behind. A second bomb dropped from the F-22, and another torrent of missiles hit the peak of the mountain, sending rock and flame toward the heavens.

  “I hope there aren’t any civilians up there. You think Colton’s people got out in time?” said a voice.

  Charlize pulled her gaze away from the view to look at Sergeant Fugate. The ten Green Berets were all watching the fighter jets pounding the aerial tramway. They were armed with a variety of weapons from M4s to M249 SAWs. All of them wore ballistic gear and helmets topped with “four eyes” night vision goggles.

  They weren’t the only ones that had come prepared for a battle. Charlize also wore a ballistic vest and carried an M9. Flanking her were Colonel Raymond and Albert, both of them armed and ready for combat.

  The Chinese jets veered away, screaming as they curved across the Estes Park valley. Charlize turned back to the windows with conflicted feelings. This was the first time she had authorized the Chinese pilots to use deadly force, and by doing so, she had not only dealt with Fenix and the Sons of Liberty‌—‌she had allowed General Lin a win for his Chinese troops. Hearing it had been missiles from the Chinese fighters that had helped take the Sons of Liberty down would be a great morale boost to the Chinese soldiers that had been ambushed by domestic terrorists in multiple locations throughout the United States.

  Hopefully there is enough left to identify Fenix’s remains, she thought. They would need to prove he was dead. The last thing she wanted was to make him a martyr and a ghost.

  “Secretary Montgomery, there’s still gunfire on Highway 36,” said Captain Howey. “Looks like quite the fight down there. Some of the vehicles retreated when the jets showed up, but a group has remained behind.”

  Charlize looked toward the cockpit, where new pilots Captain Mayberry and Captain Howey were manning the controls.

  “Looked like a bloodbath to me, and it’s not stopping,” Mayberry said.

  Albert stirred in his seat and grimaced, apparently thinking the same thing as her. They had all hoped the military presence would stop the violence.

  “What do you think we should do, Big Al?” she asked.

  The question took him off guard. But that was the point. She wanted his honest opinion.

  “Those may not be Latin Kings down there, like in Charlotte, but anyone that kills civilians is evil in my books. If they aren’t scattering from the threat of a bomb and missiles, then they don’t respect the government.”

  The explosions continued in the distance, the floor vibrating beneath her boots. For the past twenty minutes, they had stayed out of sight for fear of being snagged by an RPG or gunfire, but they couldn’t wait any longer while the citizens of Estes Park were slaughtered.

  Raymond must have known the order was coming. “I highly recommend not getting involved in a situation like this, ma’am. Stopping Fenix is one thing, but Estes Park and Fort Collins have warred over resources and‌—‌”

  “Your dissent is noted, Colonel, but this isn’t ‘warring over resources.’ This is a bloodbath with innocent civilians dying. We need to stop it.”

  Raymond sighed, but the Green Berets were ready for action. There was an approving gleam in Fugate’s eye that made her sit up a little straighter.

  “Take us down at a safe distance,” Charlize said.

  The bird quickly changed course, curving in a long arc around Prospect Mountain and over the town. They passed over a park outside town hall, the place where she had dropped off supplies after her brother’s death.

  Several buildings were burning around the town square. One of them collapsed as they passed over. Bodies littered the roads below, and even from this height she could tell they weren’t all soldiers.

  “My God,” she said. Seeing the devastation and loss of life in the once-quaint tourist town nearly took her breath away. Houses burned in the residential areas. To the east, Estes Park Lake was nothing but a shallow puddle, the dam destroyed.

  “Two o’clock,” said one of the pilots.

  She stood and made her way to the cockpit at a hunch to get a better view. The battle was still raging at the roadblock. A cluster of trucks had surrounded the Estes Park militia, and Sheriff Thompson’s men were still firing.

  “Sergeant Fugate, take out the hostiles at that barrier and save as many people as you can. This ends now,” she ordered.

  “Yes ma’am,” Fugate said without hesitation.

  “I really think you should reconsider, Secretary Montgomery,” Raymond said. “It’s not safe down there, as you can see.”

  “Colonel, I gave you an order.”

  Raymond pulled his M9 from his holster, and for a moment she thought he might be preparing to point it at her, but he checked the magazine and said, “I’m with you, ma’am.”

  The Black Hawk lowered to the street, and Fugate opened the door. The Green Berets piled out, fanning across the street toward the barrier. Charlize started to get out, but Albert put a hand on her sleeve.

  “Stay behind me, ma’am,” he said.

  Before they could all exit, Captain Howey craned his helmet out of the cockpit. “Ma’am, I just got a report from our Raptor pilot that a Humvee escaped Prospect Mountain and is heading south on Highway 7. They are asking for permission to fire.”

  Albert looked back at Charlize. “You think it could be Fenix?” he asked.

  “Shit,” she said, her eyes flitting back to the road. The Green Berets were running toward the burning vehicles and gunfire. Raymond had paused on the street, his pistol still in his grip.

  “Tell those fighters to hold their fire and stand by. We’ll check it out,” she said. “If it’s Fenix, I want to be the one to end him.”

  Albert nodded, and Raymond jumped back inside the chopper, leaving the Green Berets to fight with the Estes Park militia. The bird lifted back into the sky, and the pilots veered south.

  Smoke choked the skyline, rising off the burning structures and the smoldering top of Prospect Mountain. She pulled the M9 out of her holster and palmed a magazine into the gun. She pulled the slide back on her pistol to chamber a round. Raymond straightened his flak jacket, and Albert checked the magazine in his M4. They both looked at her as the bird continued over the town toward Highway 7.

  “I’ve got eyes,” said Captain Howey a moment later. “One o’clock.”

  She looked through the cockpit windshield at a pair of headlights on the road. The beams flicked off when the driver realized they were being tailed, but it was already too late.

  “Open the door,” she instructed Albert.

  He moved over and pulled it open, letting in a rush of frigid air. She grabbed a handhold as the pilots moved into position over the highway.

  “I’ll take out the tires,” Albert said. He shouldered his rifle and waited for Charlize to give him the okay. She waited a few more seconds until they were about a hundred feet behind the Humvee, then dipped her head.

  Albert squeezed off an automatic burst, hitting the back of the vehicle and then painting the side with rounds. The driver swerved but leveled out and continued speeding down the highway.

  “Get back!” Raymond yelled as the front passenger window rolled down. A rifle barrel stuck out of it, but the pilots were already moving. They banked hard to the left, out of the line of fire, giving Albert another angle. He fired at the driver’s side, taking out the window and hitting the door with several rounds.

  This time the Humvee veered into the ditch, where it slammed into an embankment and came to a violent stop.

  “N
ice shot, Big Al,” she said. She motioned for the pilots to put them down on the road.

  “Hold on,” Captain Howey said.

  Charlize made sure she had a good grip on the overhead handle as the Black Hawk descended to the road. The bird set down gently, with only a slight jolt as the wheels hit the snow-covered highway.

  “Stay here, and kill those rotors,” she instructed the pilots.

  Albert jumped out first, his M4 trained on the smoking Humvee. Charlize and Raymond went next with their pistols up. The rotor drafts hit them in the back as they moved low under the blades, which were already beginning to slow.

  Albert moved in front of her to shield her just in case anyone had survived the crash. Smoke whipped away from the hood of the truck and into the night. When they got to the edge of the road, the passenger door suddenly burst open and a man slumped out into the ditch. Albert aimed his rifle at the potential hostile, and Raymond walked to the right for a better firing field on the left side of the truck.

  “Don’t shoot!” the man yelled, one of his hands in the air. The other was clutched around something protruding from his side.

  Raymond gave the all clear a moment later. “Driver’s dead,” he said.

  The rotors waned behind them, the final blasts of cold air rustling her clothing as she stared at the man in the ditch. His face was covered in cuts, and his nose was bleeding. Long, dark hair hung over his face. He flicked it away, revealing two hate-filled eyes.

  Was this him? Was this the man she had been hunting for so long?

  “Stay here, ma’am,” Albert said.

  “Like hell,” she replied, moving past him with her pistol up. They walked to the ditch where the man was lying on his back, a knife handle sticking out of his gut. He winced in pain and squinted up at Charlize.

  “That you, bitch?” he asked.

  Albert moved forward, but she put a hand on his back to stop him before he could do anything rash.

  “I’ve got this,” she said.

  The look Albert gave her was one of deep concern, but there was understanding too. He knew how important it was that she be the one to bring Fenix down.

  “I’ve got your back, ma’am,” Albert said.

  “I know, Big Al.”

  She walked closer, with Albert by her side. The scent of diesel filled the night as it leaked from the tank of the Humvee. The injured man watched her like a bird studying its prey, dark eyes following her every move.

  “Dan Fenix, I presume?” she asked.

  The man grinned. “You finally got me, Charlize,” he said

  “Secretary Montgomery,” she corrected.

  “Not to me you’re not. You’re just a traitor bitch that let the damned Chinamen overrun my country.”

  Charlize wiped the smirk off his face with a pistol whip. He cried out in pain, and then spat two teeth into the snow. He glared up at her with stone-cold eyes. There was a hatred there that she had only seen in a few people before.

  “You can take me in, but my cause will live on while I await trial,” Fenix said, spitting more blood. “I’ve created a movement that you can’t stop.”

  “Wrong,” she said.

  “You think you can stop it?” Fenix asked. He smiled again, a wide, shit-eating grin that exposed his broken front teeth.

  Charlize looked over at Albert. He was a lawman and had always followed the rules, but she could tell by the look on his face that he condoned what she was about to do.

  “Your movement will die with you,” she said. Bending down, she yanked the chain with his dog tags off his neck.

  The grin on Fenix’s bloodied face vanished and his brows furrowed as she backed away. He held up a hand. “Now let’s not be hasty, Secretary Montgomery,” he said, the tone of his voice changing to something almost respectful. “I may be guilty of a few crimes, but I still have rights. I’m a citizen of this country.”

  “No. You’re a domestic terrorist. Nobody will care if I burn you at the stake.”

  Fenix seemed to relax at that statement, apparently not taking her literally. She jerked her chin at Albert, and they moved back up the ditch to the shoulder of the road, where Raymond watched with his pistol aimed at Fenix.

  “What are you doing?” Fenix asked.

  She grabbed a flare from Albert’s tactical vest. Fenix’s eyes widened when he saw what she was holding.

  “No,” he said, raising both hands. “Please, you can’t...you can’t do this. I have rights.”

  She pulled off the top and hit the flare’s tip against the striker surface. A flame burst out, and she held it there for a moment while Fenix pleaded for his life.

  “You bitch!” Fenix screamed as she tossed the flare into the ditch. The gas instantly caught fire, raging around the Humvee. Albert led Charlize to a safe distance, where they stopped to watch with Raymond.

  Fenix had made it to his stomach, and crawled several feet before the flames engulfed his legs and then his back and neck. He let out an agonized scream as it consumed his body. He flopped and squirmed to try and put the flames out. She had wanted to leave behind an easily-identifiable body, but watching him burn was too satisfying. Besides, she had his dog tags to prove he was dead.

  Charlize stood there for a good ten minutes, even after Fenix had stopped moving. Sometimes justice was a very violent thing, especially at the end of the world.

  _____

  Sandra wiped the sweat and tears from her face with a sleeve, and focused on the doors of the emergency room, trying to see through her suddenly blurred vision. After Chief Colton had arrived with five bullet holes in him, she didn’t know how much more she could take. He had died long before he made it to the hospital, but Lindsey had insisted on bringing his body here anyways.

  More Green Berets were streaming into the room. They had pushed Thompson’s men back, and were now bringing in more injured. Sergeant Fugate, the leader of the team, was helping Lindsey Plymouth. She had a shard of metal sticking through her forearm, but she looked just as fierce and determined as ever.

  “It’s over!” Lindsey yelled. “The battle for Estes Park is over.”

  For a moment, everyone stopped what they were doing to look at Lindsey. Sandra finished the bandage she was putting on a patient and took in the makeshift emergency room in a quick scan. Lanterns lit the open space, illuminating what looked more like a field hospital from the Civil War than a modern medical facility. Beds with severely wounded patients surrounded her in all directions. There were buckets collecting blood. Hacksaws and knives glistening red on metal tables. Over the cries and moans, Lindsey continued her announcement.

  “We won,” Lindsey said. There wasn’t enthusiasm in her words, and Sandra had a feeling it had to do with the fact they had lost so many people in the attack. “Thompson’s forces have retreated. What’s left of them, that is.” She continued talking, but Sandra ignored the words when she saw two new patients moving toward the open doors.

  “Sam!” Sandra shouted.

  Raven limped into the open space with Sarah by his side. Just behind them, two soldiers were helping carry Dale inside. Sandra let out a sigh when she saw her brother looked mostly okay. He raised a hand at her and forced a smile. Then he saw Colton’s body and his hand fell limply to his side.

  She hurried toward Raven and wrapped her arms around him when they met. Behind them, more people piled into the lobby outside the hospital. She didn’t recognize three of them. Wait...hadn’t she seen the woman with short-cropped hair walking through the lobby before? The doors to the operating room shut, blocking Sandra’s view.

  “You okay, sis?” Raven asked.

  She managed a nod. “Is Allie okay?”

  “The high school was untouched,” Raven said. “Everyone is fine there.”

  “Where’s Creek?”

  “Sitting outside.”

  Sarah tried to dart away from them, but Sandra bent down to check her for injuries.

  “I’m fine,” the girl said. “I’m going to s
it by Dale.”

  Sandra nodded and looked back to her brother.

  “Is it really over?” she asked.

  “I think so.” He turned to look at Colton again, a tear flowing freely down his filthy cheek.

  “He was hit seven times before he finally went down,” Lindsey said, stepping over with her hand still gripping her wound.

  “I should have been there,” Raven said quietly.

  “You saved lives, Sam. If it weren’t for you, we would have all died on that road, and those mortars would have destroyed the high school. You and Dale are heroes.”

  “No,” Raven said. “Chief Colton is the hero.”

  “Sandra, we need you!” Doctor Duffy yelled. He was standing next to a table where Dale was stretched out. Sarah held the big man’s hand.

  “Go help him,” Raven said.

  Sandra nodded and left Raven and Lindsey to speak privately. The macabre sounds of the battle’s aftermath took over, but Sandra was able to drown out the screams and cries to focus on Dale.

  “You’re going to be okay,” she said.

  Dale looked at her, his face pale from the blood loss, but his eyes alert.

  “Your brother saved us,” he said. “He saved us all.”

  Sandra wanted to smile, but all she could do was nod. Chief Colton had died a hero’s death in the battle for Estes Park, but apparently a new hero had also emerged‌—‌someone she’d never thought would be a leader. The fight was over for now, and for the first time since the North Korean attack, she trusted they would be okay. Her brother and Lindsey would watch out for Estes Park in Colton’s stead.

  EPILOGUE

  Three Months after the North Korean attack

  RAVEN SPEARS FIDGETED with his tie. He hated ties, and he hated wearing a suit, but today he was an honored guest at the unveiling of the new White House, along with his sister and niece. Creek trotted along next to them. The dog hated being on a leash about as much as Raven hated being in a suit.