The Shift: Book II of the Wildfire Saga

by Marcus Richardson

  "These assholes are the ones behind the nuke strike in Atlanta. They're the ones that got the bio-weapon to North Korea, they're the ones that allowed the NKors to bring it inside our borders. I've been on this case for three years now," he said and leaned back in his pew. "The CIA's been hunting these people for as long as I've been alive. They are threat Number One. And she,” he said nodding toward the vestry, “works for them.”

  Alston shook his head. "You mean to tell me that with all the resources that we have, we haven’t been able to round up a handful of people around the planet?” Alston shook his head again. "I remember it took years to track down bin Laden back in the day, but we did it. And you're telling me the government’s been trying to take these people down for what… 50 years? They covert ops or what?”

  Mosby nodded. “They’re civilians. For the most part, just wealthy individuals or businessmen and women. I'm telling you, that woman you rescued works for the man in charge of their field operations. His name is Reginald."

  Alston laughed. “Reginald? Doesn’t sound very threatening.” He looked at Deuce, who shrugged. Alston turned back to Mosby: "I wish one of you guys would come up with some kind of cool codename like…Nightstalker or something. Reginald, hah!”

  Mosby was not amused. "I didn't come up with his name, okay? His parents did—at least we think it's his real name."

  “Good grief. Okay, okay,” said Alston. “So Huntley's girlfriend is some kind of—"

  “What did you say?"

  Alston flashed a smile. "I think Huntley’s sweet on her. Can't say I blame him—she's pretty easy on the eyes.”

  “That woman is one of the more dangerous operatives that Reginald commands. She's personally taken out three of our Counter-Terrorism boys. I'm not talking fresh-out-of-training here, I'm talking hardened badasses.” He turned and looked Alston square in the face. "One of them came to us from the Rangers.”

  The smile faded from Alston's face.

  “We've got to get in there and separate her from the Source. Right now, he’s the most sought after high-value target in the history of HVTs. We've got to bring him back to the lab."

  “That’s the plan,” agreed Alston. He coughed, unable to hold it in any longer. His chest felt so tight. “But since the Russians shot down my ride, we’re sorta out of options at the moment.”

  “Denver's a long walk from Kentucky,” confirmed Deuce.

  Mosby stared at the door to the vestry. “Leave that to me. I have transport available.”

  Alston regarded the agent. "Transport? What kind of transport? CIA give you a private jet or something?"

  Mosby smiled smugly in the lightning-lit church. "Yeah, something like that."

  “Why the hell didn’t you say something earlier?" Alston stood. "Let's get the fuck out of here!” He turned to Deuce. "Go get—”

  “Whoa there, cowboy. I never said it was big enough for everybody. You got what, five or six Marines, your Rangers, and yourself?"

  Alston felt the hope die his chest. Or maybe that was just the virus filling his airways with mucus. "Yeah…"

  "That's what I thought. I have space for three people—it’s a small jet."

  “So what are you suggesting?” Alston rubbed at his burning eyes.

  "I'm the agent in charge of this operation, so I'll be taking the Source with me. You guys, unfortunately, will have to find your own way back to Denver. However, once I reestablish comms, I'll make sure to send the cavalry…" Mosby stood and put a hand on Alston’s shoulder. "Nice talking with you boys, but I gotta get him out of here."

  Now it was Alston’s turn. He put a hand on Mosby’s chest and pushed him back. "Sorry, but I can’t let you do that."

  Mosby’s eyes shifted from Alston to the vestry door. He didn't notice Deuce move up behind him like a ghost.

  "What makes you think otherwise?"

  Alston rolled his shoulders and felt a pop in his neck. "My mission is to bring him home. My mission. Nobody ever briefed me about you. I don't know what the hell your ultimate goal is, but where he goes, I go." Alston continued, ignoring Mosby’s frown: “And where I go, the men I'm responsible for go. End. Of. Discussion."

  "You're serious, aren't you?" said Mosby, hands on his hips. “You’re one of those John Wayne, deep-blue hero guys, aren’t you?” He sighed and looked at the floor. "All right, all right. Give me some time and I’ll see if I can round up transport for you and your men. I'm taking the Source with me now, though—"

  Alston shook his head. "All due respect, Mr. Mosby, but you will not be taking him anywhere. He will remain here under my protection until you return. If you don't have transport for all of us, then we’ll figure out a way to get home on our own.”

  Mosby stared at Alston, the muscles of his jaw working. His eyes narrowed as he spoke, “Fine. Have it your way." He turned and started to walk away. Looking over his shoulder he reached out one hand. “I’ll need my pistol back, though. This place isn’t safe anymore."

  “Afraid of zombies?” asked Deuce. “This place is a ghost town.”

  Mosby shot him a dark look. “I grew up here, Corporal. A lot of my friends and family are going to die—if they haven’t already. Just give me my fucking gun.”

  “Hand it over, Corporal,” said Alston. Whatever Mosby may be lying about, he was telling the truth right then, Alston could see it in his eyes. When the door had shut behind Mosby, once more muffling the storm, Alston frowned. "Everybody catch that?"

  "Roger that," reported Garza’s voice. "I don't trust him, sir."

  "Ditto," replied Gunny Morin. "He’s moved two doors down, standing underneath the porch at the bank. I got movement… He's got a sat-phone, sir."

  "Now what we do?" asked Deuce. Thunder rumbled and lightning flashed, casting a pink glow over the interior of the church.

  Alston put his helmet back on and felt the reassuring weight settle on his neck. “I think it's time for us to go have a chat with Mr. Huntley and his girlfriend."

  CHAPTER 23

  Denver, Colorado.

  Emergency National Reserve Operations Center.

  The Cave.

  COOPER CLENCHED HIS FIST against the thick glass. He was finally out of quarantine but it didn’t seem to make any difference. There was yet another barrier in front of him. He leaned against the observation window and stared at the infirmary on the other side. Mike lay in the first cot next to the window, his breathing shallow and light. He had more tubes sticking out of him than Cooper ever wanted to see.

  A nurse in a biohazard suit stood in attendance, writing something on a checklist. She looked up through the plastic bubble on her head and offered a sad, well-practiced smile of reassurance. Cooper nodded his thanks and clenched his fist again. He needed to hit something. He needed to break something. He needed to do something.

  Soon, Admiral Bennet had said. They were working something up to hit the NKors in California. He’d promised Cooper a shot at payback.

  Soon isn’t fast enough. It needs to be now.

  Footsteps echoed down the spartan hallway behind him. He knew who was coming by the sound of their boots on the commercial-grade tile flooring. He knew what he would have to say.

  "How's he doing?" asked Charlie as he stepped up next to his CO.

  Cooper grunted.

  "That good? Damn…" muttered Charlie. He folded his arms and stood looking at Mike and the other patients. It was only rated a Level II biohazard containment facility, but under the circumstances it was the best anyone could hope for.

  "Look, we did our part…" said Charlie. "There's nothing more we can do for him or the others. We got Boatner here and he’s already working on a cure."

  Cooper nodded. They’d been through it all before. “I just hope it'll be enough."

  He could see Charlie nod his head out of the corner of his eye. "Me too, brother, me too."

  Cooper stood in silence as he watched Mike clinging to life. The nurses had him at a slight incline to make it easier for him
to breathe. Cooper closed his eyes and let his forehead touch the cool glass.

  “So, look, Coop—"

  Cooper opened his eyes and stepped back from the window to regard his second-in-command.

  Charlie swallowed and took one last look at Mike before plowing ahead. "I heard about the new mission. I got a request."

  Here it comes…

  "I'd never forgive myself if I didn't at least ask, since our mission is taking us practically back home…"

  "Spit it out, sailor."

  Charlie stiffened and almost came to attention. "Gotta be within 20 miles of Chula. I want—I need to find my family." Charlie clenched his jaw as he waited for Cooper’s answer.

  Cooper sighed. He stared at his subordinate for a moment. He’d been dreading this confrontation since they had received word the next op was in southern California. "Look, man, nobody wants to go find your family more than I do, trust me.” He glanced at Mike and thought of his missing wife and daughter, Joan and Hannah. “You know that, right?"

  He knew Charlie knew it. But it was still hard to say ‘no’ and disappoint his XO.

  "Yeah, I know it.” Charlie mumbled. “You just don't want to find them as much as I do."

  “They’re your family, I’m not saying I’d ever want to find them more than you, but the mission—"

  “Fuck the mission!" hissed Charlie. The intensity of his voice caught Cooper off-guard. Charlie pointed a finger at Cooper’s throat. “You know as well as I do, the longer it is before somebody gets boots on the ground in that area, the less chance they've got. Goddamn NKors are crawling all over California—you heard the Admiral! If we don't act now, I might never get another chance.”

  “Charlie—”

  “Yeah, I know, mission first, bro. But there's always another mission—I won’t get another family!” He pointed at the infirmary through the glass. "You think Mike wouldn't give everything he has in the world right now to know Joan and Hannah are safe? You think they wouldn't give everything in the world to be with him right now?”

  “Don't you think I know that?" replied Cooper, his own anger beginning to bubble to the surface. "You have no idea how hard it is for me to keep telling you ‘no’. If Mike dies in there," Cooper said pointing at the bedridden SEAL, “who's the one that has to break the news to Joan? Who's the one that has to tell Hannah her daddy's never gonna come home and see her again? Think it’s gonna be you? No.” He thumped his own chest. “It's gotta be me, Charlie. I’m LT now. We’re all a family," Cooper said as he put a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

  Charlie shrugged away angrily. Cooper frowned. His voice changed, taking on the sternness of a commander. "Whether you like it or not, you know the rules. We do not get to decide when and where we walk off the reservation. You knew this when you signed up—"

  “When I signed up, I knew that I would have to leave my family behind and go off to war. I knew that someday I might get a bullet to the back of my head in some shithole of a country on the other side of the planet.” Charlie stared at Mike. His voice softened. “She understood that, too. But nobody ever said anything about somebody threatening her. Here,” he said, pointing at the ground, “in America. That's not how it's supposed to work."

  Cooper could only imagine the anger and rage that was roiling through Charlie and wondered how long it would be before Charlie snapped. Shit like that could get somebody—or even a whole team—killed.

  "My hands are tied in this, Charlie."

  Charlie turned away. "Yeah, I know. Mission-fucking-first. We’re going to kill some North Korean assholes, then hold down the fort while the Marines come in and take the place out. The Marines will get us out. And I never get a chance to find my family again." Charlie looked over his shoulder. "I got it about right?"

  Cooper folded his arms across his chest. "I know it's not fair," he said.

  Charlie barked a laugh. It sounded harsh, there was no humor in it at all. "Who the fuck said life is fair?"

  "Look, I’m trying to tell you if there's—"

  Charlie raised a hand and walked off. "Save it, Coop. I got a mission to prep for."

  Cooper sighed in frustration and stood there clenching and unclenching his fists at his side as he watched Charlie stalk down the hallway. His XO bumped shoulders with a doctor in a biohazard suit as he walked around the corner. The doc was thrown against the wall and Charlie kept walking.

  The doctor said something, but he was too far away for Cooper to hear.

  That probably wasn't the best thing in the world to do.

  He watched as Charlie froze mid-stride. He turned and glared at the doctor. Cooper braced himself for action. Charlie was reaching the breaking point. He'd have to talk to Bennet about the situation. The team was already down to just a handful of men. He couldn't afford to lose Charlie.

  The doctor put his hands up and backed away from Charlie, shaking his head. Charlie shot one dangerous look down the hallway toward Cooper then turned and walked away.

  Cooper sighed and leaned his back against the thick window of the infirmary. He tapped the back of his head repeatedly against the thick glass creating a dull, reverberating bass thump.

  "They told me I could find you down here," whispered Brenda. Cooper opened his eyes and spun to the right. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked as she stepped out of a side hallway and stopped just short of touching him.

  She was close enough that Cooper could smell the shampoo she’d used to wash her hair. Without thinking, he reached to see if her auburn hair was as soft as it looked. She froze and her eyes jerked to his in surprise. Cooper found himself leaning in to kiss her. He felt her arms wrap around his neck as he enjoyed the tender touch of her lips on his. Before things went any further, Cooper reluctantly turned his head. She nuzzled into his neck and squeezed.

  "Long enough to know, that your friend's a ticking time bomb." She looked up at him.

  "He'll be alright…" Cooper muttered into Brenda's hair. He knew it was a lie as soon as he said it. “Before you ask—I’m okay.”

  She pulled her head back and looked up at him again, her green eyes even with his nose. A crooked smile curled one corner of her lips. "I know," she whispered. "I'm in charge down here, remember?"

  Cooper chuckled and stepped back, holding her at arm’s length. "Let me look at you, doctor-in-charge," he said. His eyes roamed up and down her body, memorizing every curve and shape under the light-green scrubs she wore.

  He let his hands slide down the length of her slender arms until his fingers intertwined with hers. They stood there, staring at each other for longer than Cooper realized.

  "What happens now?" she asked softly. “I heard you have a new mission.”

  Without thinking, Cooper frowned. “Word gets around fast.”

  “Well, we’re all stuck together down here and people talk.” Cooper loved how her eyes reflected the smile on her face. “So what’s next?”

  “I have to go prep for my next mission."

  The radiant smile faded. "What do you mean?" She let go of his hands and crossed her arms under her breasts. "You just got back! Don’t they need to give you a rest or something?”

  “We’re not truck drivers, Brenda. When we get a mission, we go, tired, wounded, or whatever. We go.” Cooper realized his mistake and tried to take a step forward and reach out a hand, but she swatted it away. “Don't those idiots realize that you just survived one of the most dangerous places in the country—you just brought home Maurice to help us defeat this mess we’re in—"

  "Trust me, it's not my idea—look, it's not like—wait, ‘Maurice’? Since when are you on first name basis with Boatner?” He shook his head. “Bottom line is, I don’t want to go—but the Brass discovered the NKors have been building a significant Forward Operating Base near San Diego—"

  Brenda rolled her eyes and spread her arms wide in exasperation. "Now I understand what Charlie was so mad about. There's always going to be another base. There’s always going to be anoth
er fight, another mission, isn't there?"

  Cooper's brow creased in confusion. "Am I missing something? Our country has been invaded, millions of Americans are behind enemy lines on the coast. We're. At. War,” he said. He slapped his hand against the infirmary window. “People are dying out there.”

  A spasm of pain crossed her face. “I know that,” Brenda said quietly. “If anyone knows that, it’s me.”

  “That means,” Cooper continued in a softer tone, “that my team and I have to go. It’s who we are—it’s what we do.” He turned to face the infirmary and looked at Mike. “And now they've hit us first and it's our own turf we have to defend, not some sandy, flea-ridden Third World nation nobody gives a fuck about.” He put his hands on his hips. “And I'm getting the opportunity of a lifetime to head out there and deal death to the people that would destroy our country, on our own ground.” Anger rose in his voice: “And all I’m getting is flack from people I care about—"

  He stopped when he saw the tears forming in Brenda's eyes and realized he'd made yet another mistake. His anger evaporated—he slumped his shoulders and sighed. "Brenda, I'm sorry…"

  She raised a hand to stop him from speaking, shook her head, and turned to leave. Jax appeared around the corner and nearly collided with her.

  "Hey, Brenda! How you doing?"

  Brenda wiped roughly at her eyes and sniffed. "I'm alive," she said. She glanced over her shoulder at Cooper. "Excuse me.” She shuffled past the big SEAL and disappeared around the corner.

  "Man, you sure do have a way with the ladies… This is, what, the third time I've seen you standing there as some girl walks away crying?”

  Cooper looked up and Jax froze mid-sentence. "Hey, Coop, you know I got your back, right?” He stepped closer, concern written on his face. “Seriously, what's up?"

  Cooper shook his head and growled his frustration. He looked down the corridor after Brenda. “Nothing.” He turned to look at Mike again. “Fucking North Koreans…" he muttered.