Nathan didn’t like it, but he understood it.
He whoa’ed the oxen and called back to Freeson, who’d done the same. “You hear that, Free?”
The engine noise was far off, but it was definitely there. Tommy stuck his head out of the canvas and listened.
“That doesn’t sound right, does it?”
There was a note to the sound that Nathan, a veteran of a thousand engines, didn’t recognize. Perhaps the foggy air was doing something to the acoustics in the platte valley they were bisecting.
But no, this was an engine signature on the air that Nathan could not recognize. And the sound was getting closer.
Tommy grabbed his shotgun and passed an MP4 to Nathan. “Forearmed is fore-readied, or something, Nate.”
Tommy and Nathan jumped down from the wagon and walked swiftly back to where Freeson and Lucy had already disembarked with their weapons at the ready. The four of them then walked past the second wagon, taking up a line. Guns raised, they waited there as the engine noise came closer and resolved itself.
They couldn’t see far down the road because of the mist, but as they looked on, something strange began happening to the foggy air. It was clearing. Gusts of it were moving apart like the parting of the Red Sea, and they could see the road now, and hear the engine that was almost upon them, and yet they still couldn’t see any vehicle to go along with the attendant noise.
Until they looked up.
The black shadow moved through the air, slowly and deliberately following the road.
The sound came from the suppressed engine notes of a military helicopter. That’s what had turned it weird in Nathan’s ears, and it had been so long since he’d seen anything flying that he’d not even thought of looking up into the sky.
“Holy…” Tommy breathed out as the helo hovered overhead. “You know what that is?”
Nathan shook his head.
“No idea,” Freeson added.
“That, my friends, is a highly-modified MH-60 Black Hawk stealth helicopter. Which is why it sounds so dang weird.”
The Black Hawk was hovering fifty feet above them now. The downdraft was huge, dissipating the mist completely. But still the engine sounded off. Nathan had been close to helicopters in the past. They sounded like one set of metal stairs falling down another set of metal stairs. This thing was loud, but it felt wholly suppressed, like you would only know it was near you when it got to be fully overhead.
“These are the beauties they used to fly the guys who took out Bin Laden. My God!” Tommy shouted suddenly, lifting his baseball cap and scratching at his sweaty black hair.
“And what’s it doing here?” Nathan shouted back.
Before Tommy could answer, a door on the side of the Black Hawk slid open and something huge was rolled out.
It fell towards them, a dead weight with the clothes around it fluttering with the acceleration and the draft from the rotors. When the body hit the road ten yards away with a sickening thump, they heard the sound of its bones snapping and a line of gore humped out of its side as the belly split open.
Freeson and Lucy turned around in disgust.
Tommy swore.
Nathan could say nothing as one of the Detroit memories he’d been missing came flooding back into his head and he looked down upon the body of Horace, now as dead as dead could be.
They abandoned the wagons, the oxen, and all of their supplies to run into the woods. There’d been no time to look after Horace’s remains. There was just the blind panic of making sure they got into the trees with everyone safe before the Black Hawk landed and disgorged the authors of Horace’s horrific death from within. Nathan yanked on Tony’s arm as the boy looked wildly back for Rapier, who had seemingly disappeared when the helicopter had arrived.
It was as if whoever was in the Black Hawk waited for them to get away before both wagons and attendant oxen were ripped apart in a hail of cannon fire. It was obvious to Nathan that whoever was in the helicopter didn’t care that he and the others were now in the woods. Cyndi ran with her babe in arms, and Nathan resorted to throwing Tony over his shoulder in much the same way that Tommy had carried him out of the silo.
Nathan didn’t have time to think about who it might be in the Black Hawk, but the dumping of Horace’s dead body onto their path had been a clear enough indicator that it was someone from Detroit who was looking for a slice of hot revenge.
You didn’t drop a calling card like that if you were going to just sneak up behind someone and shoot them in the back of the head. No. This was an action designed with one purpose—to cause terror in the hearts of Nathan and his people. To put his children in a state of absolute panic and to enjoy doing it.
Whoever had dropped the body had a sense of humor, and a sense of the theatrical.
The trees were Douglas firs, and although they were cold and frosty, there wasn’t much snow at their bases. The ground around them was instead heavy and wet, the mulch sticky and cloying. The chill air burned in Nathan’s lungs as he ducked beneath branches, following Cyndi as she ran on, dodging tree trunks with the baby in one hand and a SIG-Sauer in the other.
No one spoke; even the baby refused to cry. All they heard was the desperate crash of their feet through the undergrowth, the harshness of their breathing catching on the air, and the winding down of the Black Hawk engine as it landed and extinguished its stealth-baffled engines.
Nathan kept his eyes locked on Cyndi’s back. The others were fanning out of his peripheral vision as they moved in random directions. Then they came to a steep slope that surprised Cyndi and she slid onto her backside with an explosive breath before slithering down through the cold mud, using her legs as brakes and digging up furrows with her heels. Nathan brought Tony around to his chest and held his face close to his jacket as he launched himself down the slope.
At the bottom, Cyndi was getting to her feet, her face red with exertion and her mouth barred with spit, her eyes full of the fear that whoever had come in the helicopter would have enjoyed knowing they’d engendered.
Cyndi didn’t have the breath to speak and Nathan didn’t have the energy to climb up out of the mud-caked gully on the other side, so he pointed along the floor of the natural ditch to a clump of bushes that were seventy or so yards away and might allow them some cover and time to recoup their lost energy.
Cyndi nodded and, keeping her head low and Brandon tight against her breast, ran along the deepening puddles of the gully floor, splashing dirty mud stains up her pants.
Nathan was all but beat when they reached the scrub. It was leafless and thorny, but also thick, and there was enough room for them to crawl elbow over elbow into the welcoming darkness beneath it. Nathan pushed Tony forward wordlessly, pointing for him to follow his mom. Tony, his face white with fear and dotted with cold flecks of wet mud, nodded and followed Cyndi into the gloom.
Nathan came last, sinking his chest into the freezing water. It was only inches deep, but it soon seeped through all of his clothes and into his boots. His elbows barked painfully against stones and brackish, dirty droplets splashed up into his mouth, making him spit out grit.
His heart was thumping. This was the hardest he’d exerted himself since before the silo. His muscles had started to feel like rusted iron, and his soaked skin seemed to be shrinking against his bones into a chill, tight covering that made movement near impossible.
Nathan wanted to wake up. Wanted this to be one of his nightmares where his wife and children were lost to him. He wanted to wake up in the warm blankets of the wagon and hug his children and Cyndi close.
Please be a dream.
Please be a damn dream.
But it was neither a dream nor a hallucination, and as Nathan settled into the wet, animal stink of the hollow beneath the bushes, just next to his terrified family, that’s when the shooting started.
They were being systematically hunted down through the thawing forest.
Nathan could hear footsteps crashing not far enough of
f to be safe, and the clatter of small arms fire smacking into wet wood and smashing into the sodden earth. He had no idea if the shots were being fired at actual targets or were—like so much else of this episode—designed just to terrorize them to the edge of true madness.
They still hadn’t spoken a word to each other since leaving the wagons. Still hadn’t formulated a plan of action or seen how they could fight back. How could they, though? They were holding their children in their arms. How could they fight back?
And if they surrendered, then what? There had been no attempt from anyone in the helicopter to give them the opportunity to surrender.
This wasn’t just revenge; it was sport.
Nathan had an MP4 and one spare magazine, plus his knife. Cyndi had the SIG and he didn’t know what else. It wasn’t much of an inventory, even if they did want to fight back. How long would they last? Nathan had no idea how many people had exited the Black Hawk to follow them into the woods. Weapons’ fire seemed to be coming from five or six directions at once, echoing through the trees. There would be a pause in the firing and then they would hear bodies crashing through the undergrowth, and then more firing.
If their pursuers were smart, they would be quartering the areas now, and the lack of ready cover would mean that places like this dark, wet, and dirty bolt-hole at the bottom of the gully would be an obvious place to hide. It stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb now that Nathan thought about it.
They couldn’t stay here.
But now they also couldn’t move, because as Nathan looked out, back along the gully, two pairs of boots slid down into it and then stood up in the puddles at the base.
Nathan couldn’t crane his neck high enough to see their faces, but they seemed to be in the same black uniforms as the National Guardsmen he’d encountered with Elm in Pinkersville.
Surely, though, they weren’t hunting Nathan. Why would they bother? That exchange had just been a little local difficulty months ago, which should have been over once they’d taken their revenge on Elm.
It just didn’t compute.
Cyndi’s eyes implored Nathan for a solution. The legs were mere yards away now. They were firing into the air wildly. All it would take would be for them to try target practice on the bush and it would be over. For all of them.
Nathan had nothing, though. No idea why they would be doing this, why they had dumped Horace out of the Black Hawk, or why he and his friends and family were being hunted through the forest.
No idea… until it all became clear.
“We know you’re here somewhere, Nate! Why don’t you just give yourself up and make it easier on yourself?”
A band saw of frozen fear cut Nathan’s heart from his chest.
That voice belonged to Stryker Wilson.
24
And so the betrayal was complete.
Not only had Stryker lied to get them to Detroit, but he was now part of an attempt to run Nathan to ground and take his family from him. Yet again, when Stryker had told Nathan about his murdered wife, Nathan had taken him at face value, and without carrying out the due diligence necessary to see if Stryker’s story bore any relation to the truth. It clearly didn’t. And now, here was Nathan, wet in a stinking ditch, waiting for the man he had once called a friend to come kill him and his family.
This was no mission to take Nathan back to face whatever justice Brant or whoever wanted to mete out; this was going to be pure vindictiveness.
Stryker moved a few more yards down the gully, his booted feet kicking up water and wet dirt. Stryker carried a limp from where he’d been shot in the shin by Danny, Nathan noticed now. What better way to prove to Nathan that Stryker was back on the side of the good guys than by not fatally shooting him? Rather, he’d chosen Stryker’s leg. Maybe it had been payback for him killing Billy, but Danny clearly hadn’t meant to kill Stryker or he would have put a bullet through his skull.
Nathan closed his eyes and shook his head.
How could he have gone back and believed in Stryker again after all the evidence had been piled up against him? If Nathan weren’t so terrified, he would have felt like a fool.
“I’m coming out, Stryker! Don’t shoot. I surrender!”
A hand fell over Nathan’s mouth as he turned to Cyndi to protest. Her eyes were filled with urgency. She pushed the cooing, but still mostly silent, form of Brandon into Tony’s arms. Then she kissed all three of them on the forehead before climbing out from beneath the bush.
Tony’s eyes were as wide as a couple of trashcan lids, and in Nathan’s ears, his heart sounded like it was beating on them.
Nathan could only see her feet, but as she stood up straight, he saw Stryker take a limping step towards her. There was a smack of flesh on flesh then, and Cyndi gasped and fell to her knees.
Nathan knew that Cyndi, his brilliant, amazing, and practical wife had given them a golden opportunity. But could he leave her? Could he go further into the brush to see if they came out the other side? If there was going to be any future for his boys, he would have to get them to safety while Cyndi occupied Stryker, and do it before he came back to try to rescue her.
He wasn’t going to leave his wife like he had Syd in any case. No way, no how.
Motioning Tony to remain still and absolutely quiet, he plucked Brandon from the boy’s hands and turned under the bush in the water. He could just about crawl; there was enough headroom, and as they went further into the near darkness, Nathan got a reasonable speed up, putting the baby inside his jacket and pulling the zipper up to the child’s neck. The warmth of Nathan’s skin and the rocking of Nathan’s crawl kept the baby on the verge of sleep. Nathan didn’t know how long it would last, but for now the baby was being well behaved—as if Brandon was picking up on the need for silence from his daddy. For millions of years, the nomadic hunter gatherers of the plains would have had to naturally keep their young quiet while they hunted. Maybe there was an evolutional imperative at play here, and the processes deep within Brandon’s cortex made him all the more cooperative. Whatever the reason for the child’s silence, every yard Nathan traveled might make his boys a little safer.
The water splashed up and his whole body was soaked, but Tony crawled on behind them as they both tried to travel as quietly as they could. The gully began to slope then, and soon they were out of hearing distance. Stryker hadn’t continued shooting—in fact, Nathan hadn’t heard any more shots since Cyndi had offered herself up to save her family…
Family First.
Yes, Daddy.
Nathan plowed on, his face wet with muddy water and tears. His arms ached and his legs felt dead as his boots slithered on and his knees dragged. Thorns snagged on his clothes and scratched at his skin, but this was his only chance to get Tony and Brandon to safety.
The floor of the gully flattened and widened, and as it started to rise, still covered in the thick thorny brush, Nathan felt the mulch and dirt beneath his fingers start to dry. There was good drainage here, and the temperate climate outside of the Big Winter had helped keep this area of land just damp, and almost dry, in places. Nathan rolled sideways and sat up, his breathing hard and painful. His head was swimming and dizzy, but he had no time to waste here on doing nothing, though his physical destruction was near complete. It was as much as he could do to give Brandon back to Tony. “Stay here. I will be back for you. I promise.”
“I know, Daddy. But you gotta get Mom.”
“I will, son. I will.”
Like a pearl diver taking huge breaths before grabbing a boulder to take him into the unimaginable depths, Nathan clawed air into his lungs and set his muscles.
“I love you, Daddy. And so does Brandon,” Tony said as Nathan dived back into the unimaginable dark of the present future.
When Nathan made it back to where he’d left the MP4 and Cyndi’s SIG, he could already see through the brush to the uncovered section of the gully that Stryker, Cyndi, and whoever the other legs had belonged to had left.
Nath
an listened intently. Whereas before there’d been much crashing and shooting in the surrounding woodland, now there was just the silence and fear grinding in his heart.
Of course, Stryker and whoever he was with didn’t need to chase them through the forest anymore. They’d gotten their hostage. Nathan could be sure that that’s what Cyndi, ever the pragmatist, had reckoned on. Now Stryker’s people had all the lure they needed. They knew Nathan would never leave the area and escape without his wife. In giving herself up, Cyndi had guaranteed Nathan had the breathing space to get the boys to relative safety—time and space to allow Nathan and the others a fighting chance to find her and free her.
Nathan had heard the stories from Freeson and Lucy over the last few weeks of wagon travel, how Cyndi had put her all into mounting a way to rescue him from the silo; however insurmountable the odds had been, she’d kept trying, and failing, and trying again. Nathan was sure that if his wife and friends hadn’t run into Tommy Ben with his specialized knowledge of the silo, they would still have been trying to spring him, even now. Right up until the moment Strickland and other silo dwellers might have had to surface for supplies. He realized that the times when outside services had gone down—like the solar charging panels or the wind turbines—had been because they had been sabotaged by Cyndi. This guerilla action by the rest of his group meant his ‘treatment’ had been interrupted, so that he could work on the redundancy systems in the silo.
If Nathan’s skills at working with machinery hadn’t been so necessary, then his treatment might have been wholly successful… and any rescue attempt, even if they’d gotten him out would have failed because ultimately there’d have been no way back for his memory and personality.
Nathan didn’t just owe everything to his wife for her love, the children she had bourn him, or the education and the support she’d offered since they had left Glens Falls.
After the Shift: The Complete Series Page 49
