“Oz is down hard,” said Ross. “I returned fire, but have no targets.”
“How bad is Oz?”
“Missing half of his head.”
Nissie interrupted. “I have a nine-one-one call reporting gunfire. Nearest police unit is six minutes away.”
“Copy that. Start the clock,” said Riggs. “Nissie. Are you getting any sounds inside the town house?”
“A low humming sound that started when you gave the breach order.”
“I’m going in,” said Riggs. “Back me up.”
Tex nodded, his face unreadable behind night-vision goggles.
“Ross, I’m breaching the front door. Do not open fire.”
“Understood.”
Riggs pushed the door with his left hand, keeping the rifle steady as it opened. A light haze hampered his view, millions of suspended drywall particles wreaking havoc with the synthetic image. He tapped his night-vision goggles, switching to the traditional green-scale view, and the image cleared, revealing extensive damage to the back door and the walls surrounding it. Much of the damage looked like it came from the outside, compliments of Ross’s extended burst of gunfire.
He moved down the hallway, sensing Tex close behind. They worked in tandem, shifting and clearing the threat angles with their rifles as they moved deeper into the space. The humming grew louder. Riggs approached the foot of the stairs and knelt next to the wall framing the staircase. Two jagged holes above his head reminded him that the drywall provided zero cover. Residential walls and furniture served one purpose in a close-quarters gun battle—concealment.
A nod at the wall told Tex that Riggs was ready to check the stairs. Riggs took a few short breaths before peeking up the stairs with his rifle. Clear to the landing.
The sound from the kitchen stopped, followed by several beeps that identified the source of the humming. A microwave.
“Riggs. I think we’re clear,” whispered Tex. “Body in the kitchen.”
“Watch the stairs.”
“Got it,” said Tex, shifting to cover the stairs.
Riggs flashed to the other side of the stairwell and looked into the kitchen, seeing a pair of legs splayed on the floor between the refrigerator and the eat-in counter. Jon Fisher, no doubt, but he had to be sure before exposing himself.
“Did Oz enter the house before he went down?” he whispered over the radio net.
“No,” Ross replied. “He’s out on the patio.”
Riggs slid farther to the right, craning his neck beyond the corner of the refrigerator. Shit. Ross had killed Fisher when he returned fire. The man’s lifeless eyes stared at the kitchen ceiling, a small bullet hole evident in his right temple.
“Fisher’s KIA. Bring the SUV to the street behind the town house.”
“OK,” the tech responded in a squeaky voice that didn’t inspire confidence.
“Ross. I need you in here,” said Riggs, stepping into the kitchen with his rifle aimed at the body.
“Closest police unit is four minutes away,” announced Nissie.
A light flickered inside the microwave next to the stove. Something had caught fire. He fired a single bullet into Fisher’s unprotected groin to be sure the old man wasn’t playing dead. His body didn’t stir. A thin stream of smoke poured out of the microwave as Riggs stepped over Fisher to take a closer look at the machine. What he found didn’t surprise him at all. A melted satphone. His hopes of salvaging any useful information from this colossal screwup were fading by the second.
“Entering the back door,” said Ross, appearing a few seconds later. “What the fuck is that smell?”
“He cooked his satphone,” said Riggs, kneeling on the kitchen tile next to Fisher. “Tex. Ross. Find a bag or a suitcase. I don’t care what you use, but start loading up any files, letters, paperwork. Anything. We need to be out of here in like two minutes.”
Riggs searched Fisher’s body, finding nothing useful. He had to give the guy credit. Fisher could have done a lot more damage if he hadn’t been preoccupied in the kitchen, but cooking the phone had severed any traceable connections to his son, his wife, Stuart Quinn, and this secret compound Flagg suspected.
Tex rushed down the stairs. “I got everything I could find in the closets and dressers—which isn’t much. Fisher had a bag full of goodies upstairs. Some kind of survival kit. I got that, too.”
“There’s nothing down here,” said Ross, stepping out of the empty office.
Nissie’s smug voice filled his ear. “You just hit the two-minute mark. My guy should be there with the SUV any second.”
The hum of a powerful car engine vibrated the house. Riggs lifted his night-vision goggles an instant before a bright light bathed the backyard.
“Mr. Riggs. I’m out back,” said the driver.
“We can see you, and so can the rest of the neighborhood. Kill the lights and open the back lift gate.” He turned to his team. “We need to move Oz into the Yukon.”
While Ross and Tex filed by, Riggs noticed a thin stack of letters on the counter next to the wall, mostly buried under a jagged chunk of drywall. He brushed the mess aside and stuffed the mail in one of his cargo pockets. The dying flame in the microwave beckoned him as he turned to step out of the town house. Not this time, my friend—but soon. He envisioned feeding a screaming Nissie Keane to a much bigger, hungrier fire than that one. Something bright and hot and beautiful enough to make up for his long hiatus. No, merely setting some building on fire wouldn’t be enough to satisfy his friend.
CHAPTER 27
Keira stared at the glowing, twisted wrecks through her window as their SUV turned off the highway into the sand. Chunks of blackened debris covered the pavement around the smoking heaps, and David wasn’t taking any chances on a flat tire.
A flat tire, she thought. It seemed like such a homely, minor concern.
She turned her eyes to the star-filled northern sky. “So much for the rules of engagement,” she whispered, not wanting to wake Owen. “Recent attack, right? A few of the tires are still burning.”
“Takes them a while to burn,” David said. “Besides, lightning rarely strikes twice in the same place.”
“Yeah?” she said. “Well, let’s just set up camp here for the duration, then.”
A low chuckle. Then, after a moment: “I’m willing to bet this was a targeted strike based on confirmed intelligence. The vehicles were headed to Sonoyta.”
“We’re headed to Sonoyta,” Keira pointed out, squinting into the dark above them. Not that she had any chance of detecting a stealth drone or, more importantly, ever seeing the missile it fired. They’d be here one second, gone the next.
There was no point in worrying about it, though how in hell were you supposed to do anything else? From the armed drones circling overhead all the way down to the MP-20 she cradled in her lap, it all made her sick—and angry. It was obscene how these machines of war could erase people and families with the pull of a trigger or a mouse click. The thought of some indifferent drone pilot, sipping coffee with one hand and deciding her family’s fate with the other, filled her with rage. If she could press a button right now and instantly kill every drone pilot in existence, she wouldn’t hesitate, which made her even angrier. She was no different than them now, consumed by the circle of violence that spared none.
“We’ll be fine,” said David.
“You’re stealing my husband’s line,” she said, noticing that he’d grown strangely quiet since they’d first spotted the destroyed vehicles.
“We can’t turn back,” Nathan said quietly.
“We can do whatever we want,” she said.
“We’re less than five miles from Sonoyta. The closest road behind us is two hours back.”
“Aren’t you a little concerned we might end up like that?” she said, fighting the urge to raise her voice.
Nathan twisted in his seat to look at her. “I’m very concerned, but turning back guarantees we end up like that. We have better odds out here.”
“I know you’re right. I just can’t stand the thought of not being somewhat in control of our fate,” she said, peering skyward again. “Somewhere in Yuma, someone not happy about pulling the night shift holds our fate in his delicate fingers.”
“Actually, the night shift is highly coveted,” said David. “The air-conditioning can’t keep up during the day. Night flights go to the senior drone operators this time of the year.”
“Terrific,” she said.
The SUV drifted left, scraping over and through a field of low-lying bushes before emerging on the highway beyond the wreckage.
“We’ll be fine once we get past Sonoyta,” said Nathan.
“Oh yeah,” she muttered. “Smooth sailing all the way.”
“I liked it better when you were sleeping.”
“I was never sleeping,” said Keira. “Just pretending so I could eavesdrop on you two.”
“Probably not the best use of your downtime,” David said drily.
“No kidding,” she said, stifling a laugh. “How the hell can the two of you drive that long without saying more than five words to each other?”
“We were keeping quiet so you could sleep,” said Nathan.
“Really?”
“Not really,” said David. “I didn’t feel like talking.”
“Neither did I,” added Nathan.
She grunted, lifting her night-vision goggles to take a short break from the bright image.
“How about our guy?” said Nathan. “He faking it, too?”
“I don’t think so. He’s been breathing heavy for the past hour.”
“You should wake him up before we reach Sonoyta,” said David. “Just in case we run into a problem driving through town.”
“We’re driving straight through it?” said Keira.
Nathan slid the map through the front seats. He’d folded it to show the area around Sonoyta. “It doesn’t look like we have any alternative. Route 2 cuts right through Sonoyta, north to south.”
“Maybe there’s some side road?” Keira asked.
“If it’s not on the map, we’re not taking it,” said David. “I don’t want to get lost on a side road in the middle of cartel land.”
She studied the map, coming to the same conclusion. “I agree. Without a detailed map of the town, we’re better off staying on Route 2. I’ll start waking Owen.”
Keira nudged him with her elbow, watching him stir for a moment before he sank back into a deep sleep. She wondered if this was necessary. If they were attacked in Sonoyta by banditos, or whatever cartel dirt bags lingered in these parts, she wasn’t sure it would matter if he were awake or asleep. If they were forced out of the car, they were probably as good as dead. Then again, he could become a serious distraction inside the car if he woke up disoriented in the middle of a firefight. She raised his night-vision visor and nudged him a little harder. His eyes fluttered open, slowly drifting shut again.
“Owen,” she said, loudly.
His eyes flung open, hands reaching for the missing visor.
“It’s OK, sweetie. You’re OK,” she said, gently grabbing his hands.
He calmed immediately, speaking in a sleep-induced slur. “What’s going on?”
“We’re coming up on Sonoyta, and we need an extra pair of eyes watching the street,” she said.
Owen rubbed his eyes. “All right. How long until we get there? I’m thirsty.”
“A few minutes, I think,” said Nathan. “You have time, buddy.”
She loosened the drinking hose attached to the shoulder of his vest and pressed it into one of his hands. He drank deeply while she scanned the empty landscape behind and to the side of the SUV. Low hills rose to the north, the border lying somewhere in between. So close, yet so far. Sonoyta was the only road crossing the border between Yuma and Nogales—and it was denied to them by assholes sitting in air-conditioned trailers a hundred miles away.
When Owen was finished, she slipped the CamelBak hose into the clip sewn into the vest and lowered his visor.
“Looks like we’re getting close,” he said, pointing toward the windshield.
Scattered roadside structures started to take form in the distance. She guessed the approach to Sonoyta would resemble the road out of Mexicali, only on a smaller scale. Gutted businesses, torn fences, and stripped vehicles. Abandoned, for all practical purposes. As they passed the first building, she knew it would be much worse. The top right corner of the narrow, two-level structure had been destroyed, replaced with a jagged, fire-scored hole extending several feet down each side. She caught a glimpse of additional damage to the back of the building before the SUV cruised past. She’d never seen anything like it.
“Missile strike,” stated David solemnly. “Blew out the back wall and left debris in the parking lot.”
“Drones?” said Nathan.
“Has to be. There’s no competitive cartel activity between Tijuana and Laredo.”
“Alpha said the drones killed anything crossing the border,” she said. “Maybe they ran out of legitimate targets.”
“I don’t think so. That’s a precision hit. Probably took out an observation post watching the western approach into town. I expect to see more of this as we get deeper into town. This is a good thing.”
“A good thing?” she said.
“Yeah. Sonoyta will be clear, as in nobody around.”
“Because of the same missiles that could turn us into a—” Keira stopped herself. Without realizing it, she’d violated one of their rules. She’d unnecessarily heaped another layer of fear on Owen. Fuck. A hand patted her knee.
“It’s OK, Mom,” he said. “We’ll be fine.”
She shook her head, suppressing a smile. “For the record, ‘We’ll be fine’ does not create a magic force field around us.”
“Hey, it’s worked for us so far,” said Nathan, raising his hand for a high five.
David shook his head, rejecting the high five.
“See? He’s afraid of you, too,” said Nathan, turning his head toward Keira.
“He should be,” she said. “Both of you should be.”
“Jesus,” hissed David, bringing their banter to a halt. “Look at this.”
Scorched vehicles littered the road ahead, some upside down, all of them at odd angles. Gutted one-story buildings lined each side of the street. Beach ball–size holes had been punched clean through their stucco, the patterns framing larger areas of demolition that reminded her of the missile hit they had just passed. Sonoyta was a war zone, and this was just the outskirts.
“Looks like our drone pilots went a little trigger-happy here,” said Nathan.
David didn’t respond right away. He slowed the SUV, swiveling his head to take in the unfolding scene. “This wasn’t drones. The smaller holes look like 25-millimeter cannon fire. Drones don’t carry gun pods,” he said. “I’d say a helicopter did this. How far away is the border?”
“About a mile and a half,” said Nathan.
“Well within Strikefire missile range, but a stretch for helicopter-mounted guns,” he said, adding a whispered, “You sneaky fuckers.”
“What?” said Keira.
“They crossed the border. Our helicopters were here,” said David, easing the SUV past the first charred vehicle. “This truck was taken out by gunfire. Look at the hole in the door.”
Owen leaned over her to see.
“You don’t want to see this, sweetie,” she said, gently pushing him back.
Instead of protesting, her son climbed halfway over the backpacks on the other side of him. She’d grabbed his vest to pull him back when he slid back into his seat on his own.
“I saw a few bodies,” he said, his head pointed straight at the windshield.
Keira looked past him out the window and saw more than just a few bodies. She spotted a dozen twisted shapes strewn on the ground between the blasted vehicles, bones clearly protruding through shredded clothing. Scorched faces stared back at her from inside
the cars and trucks, her night vision allowing her to see more detail than she wanted. Whatever had happened here had been a complete massacre.
“The bodies look like they’ve been picked clean,” said Nathan.
Keira looked away from the scene, squeezing Owen’s hand.
“This happened a few weeks ago. Desert animals did their work already,” said David. “Alpha wasn’t kidding when he said this place was dead.”
She wanted to scream. They were driving an SUV with Mexican plates, in the dead of the night, through a military free-fire zone on the United States–Mexico border, and to top it off, David and her husband were narrating the entire fucking experience.
“Can we just get through this without the commentary?” she said.
“Sorry,” said Nathan.
David navigated through the kill zone, coming to a complete stop twice to open his door and verify that they could squeeze through an opening in the packed debris field. Once through, the SUV accelerated toward the center of town.
The rest of the road approaching Sonoyta’s business district was free of destruction, the United States military’s sledgehammer tactics seemingly confined to the outskirts. After they turned due south into the densest part of town, Keira started to miss the carnage. The emptiness left her unsettled. Her night-vision goggles didn’t register a single artificial light source, and the street was completely devoid of parked cars. Sonoyta was a ghost town.
The SUV lurched forward, picking up speed moments after they entered the busiest stretch of downtown road. The windshield HUD read seventy miles per hour, which was excessive for an urban street—even a deserted one.
“You might want to take it easy here,” said Nathan, echoing her thoughts.
“Take a look at your ten o’clock,” said David.
They looked to their left.
A dark gore stain smeared against the tan stucco wall of an OXXO convenience store marked the location of a slumped body on the sidewalk.
“Drive-by shooting?” said Nathan.
“I don’t think so,” replied David. “Looked like a single shot.”
“Snipers?” she said.
“That’s why I’m driving like a maniac.”
Rogue State (Fractured State Series Book 2) Page 16
