by Payne, T. L.
Fisher nudged her. “Move out, Fontenot.”
Her feet refused to move. Fisher grabbed her arm and pulled her along as they crossed the street and ran toward the red brick building where the horses were supposed to be. She was in disbelief as they rounded the corner of the structure and Alpha Team, along with the horses, were there waiting for them.
Fisher ran and practically flew into the saddle of one of the horses like some trick rider from the rodeos Isabella had attended as a kid. Fisher grabbed the reins of another horse and steadied it while Isabella climbed up. In a haze of movement, they all took off down the street, away from the fighting—away from Will.
They rode hard, pushing the horses much harder than they should in the pre-dawn light. They were risking injuries to the horses and themselves. Branches slapped Isabella in the face as they traversed fields and crossed wooded areas, finally coming out on a gravel road by a small river. Isabella had no clue where they were. Had they made it to Missouri?
They continued north staying close to tree lines, only crossing open fields when absolutely necessary. Isabella glanced back every few minutes, hoping to see Will and the others following them, but they were alone. It seemed they had evaded the enemy. She prayed that Will and the others would do the same.
After riding for hours, they were finally allowed to stop to water and rest the horses, nestled in a clearing near the junction of Highways N and 51, just across the Missouri and Arkansas state line. The sun was climbing high in the sky and the mid-summer temperatures were nearly unbearable already. The horses couldn’t keep up this pace much longer. She couldn’t either.
“Are we waiting here for the rest of the platoon?” Isabella asked her squad leader.
“We lost comms with them.”
Although she knew there was a myriad of reasons radios wouldn’t receive a signal, Isabella fought hard not to think the worst.
“We’ll keep trying and give them until morning,” her squad leader said.
Sixteen hours. Will had sixteen hours to eliminate the enemy and drive to the rally point or somehow escape and get there on foot. It was doable, she told herself over and over. They’d make it. She couldn’t lose hope. Will would find a way to make it to her—somehow. She slumped her shoulders and bowed her head. “I’ll let my team know.”
Everyone secured a perimeter from fixed positions around the horses and those taking care of them near a creek. Isabella listened hard for the sound of vehicles or anyone moving through the brush. Anyone approaching from either direction wouldn’t be able to see the squad nestled back in the trees by the creek, but they weren’t going to let anyone sneak up and get the drop on them.
“He’ll make it,” Trooper Jones said, making his rounds along the perimeter to ensure everyone was good to go whenever they got the word to “un-ass the AO,” as he liked to call whatever “Area of Operations” they were in at the time. Jones was a great soldier, Isabella thought. In ordinary times, at age fifty, Jones would be considered too old to be on the front lines, but his skill on the back of a horse made him a prime candidate for this mission. The only problem was, they hadn’t been fighting from horseback when they were ambushed.
Twenty-Four
Will
Northeast Arkansas
July 12th
Event + Ten Months
After Isabella’s squad made their escape, Will, Jason, and the rest of his squad battled for hours before they were able to take out enough of the enemy to retrieve their vehicles and call headquarters in Little Rock on their satphone. The remaining few enemy combatants had fled.
“We searched every building in town. Lieutenant Burns and Smith aren’t in them,” Will said into the phone.
Will had expected to find their bodies. Finding nothing meant the worst had happened—they’d been taken.
“Find them, Sergeant Fontenot,” Colonel Sharp ordered.
“But the mission, sir.”
“Retrieving Brad Smith is your squad’s mission now.”
“Yes, sir,” Will said. “But what about the lieutenant?”
“Yes. Brad Smith and the lieutenant,” Sharp said.
Everything in Will wanted to protest. His wife and her squad were out there proceeding with the mission without him and his squad. He should be with them, not rescuing Brad Smith. Will liked the lieutenant, he was worth saving. But Brad Smith wasn’t worth the effort, in Will’s estimation.
Will had his squad consolidate ammo, grab food and water for a week. They set out on their new mission in two Humvees. It was almost dumb luck that led them to finally picking up Region Five’s trail across the border into southeast Missouri. They came around a sharp bend in the road and discovered one of their MRAPs flipped over halfway down a cliff. Two of the occupants were deceased. By the trail of blood leading back up the hill, others had apparently survived. Will retrieved a radio from one of the dead men, and after hours of monitoring their conversations, he had a possible location.
From a distance, Will and Jason observed the movements of enemy vehicles coming in and out of a farm west of the town of Piggott. It took them hours to get close enough to learn that this was not a headquarters or a location where prisoners were held.
After two more days of tracking their movements, Will and Jason still hadn’t reached the enemies’ headquarters or located the lieutenant and Smith. Will feared it was already too late for them. The interrogators would have extracted whatever information Smith had about their mission in a matter of hours after his capture, Will thought. If by some miracle he’d misjudged the man and they hadn’t yet cracked him, they had to try a rescue.
Brad Smith had been with the CIA for over a decade and was close to President Latham. Who knew what government secrets the man held or what damage those secrets could do in the hands of someone like General Dempsey. Finding their headquarters could also provide Will and 1st Platoon with valuable intelligence about the enemy’s movements in Arkansas and their reason for being in the area. Were they there only to thwart the mission to retrieve the gold or was there a bigger purpose? Were they preparing an attack on Little Rock or maybe even Texarkana? They had to know.
Colonel Sharp's orders to bring back Smith meant they'd be tracking and locating the enemy’s area of operations and spending the time necessary observing their activities. That wasn’t part of Team Razorback’s original mission. Their mission had been to move to Iron County, Missouri, and secure the area around the cave where the gold shipment was located. Now, that would fall upon Isabella’s squad alone. And Isabella’s squad was on horseback. It could take days for them to reach it. So many things could go wrong, and he wouldn’t be there to help her.
Will was having a very difficult time putting her out of his mind and concentrating on his new mission. He was so conflicted. Retrieving the gold was vital to repelling the Russians and securing the nation, but having Dempsey’s army there in their territory made this surveillance and the recovery of Lieutenant Burns and Smith of great importance as well.
Colonel Sharp refused to report on Isabella and her squad. He also gave him no information about Stephens and Team Lonestar either. Will hated being kept in the dark. It wasn't personal—he understood Sharp didn’t want any more information falling into the enemies’ hands, but not knowing was killing him.
Will’s squad followed the enemy until they pulled into a gravel driveway. After stashing the Humvees, Will and Jason proceeded on foot back to the gravel driveway and a shed tucked back into the woods.
Will inched close enough to a window to overhear a conversation between two officers. That conversation gave them the first lead they’d had in days. One of the officers had been summoned back to their headquarters. It was hard to hear, but Will was almost positive he heard him say that he resented being called back to babysit prisoners.
“That could be our guys,” Jason said as Will relayed the conversation. The two made quicker time getting back to the rest of the squad. They’d need to be ready to pull out an
d follow that officer back to his headquarters.
Will found following the officer’s convoy without detection challenging on the windy roads. The Humvee had to hang back so far, and there were so many bends that they could round a curve and be right up on them. The risk of losing the convoy was great if they fell too far back. Every nerve in Will’s body was on edge.
When the convoy slowed and turned down a gravel drive north of Piggott, Arkansas, Will’s heart leaped. This had to be it. It was go time. As amped up as Will was, the hours of surveillance it took to finally locate the lieutenant and Smith were torture. Will informed Colonel Sharp. He hoped Sharp might dispatch a rescue team so his squad would be free to continue on to the rally point in Boss, Missouri. His heart sank when he was told they would be the rescue team—no reinforcements would be coming. Of course, he’d known this would have to be how it went.
“We have no one to send—and you’re already there to expedite the rescue. We need to get the cargo plane to Fort Leonard Wood and secure it until the gold is on board and we can’t leave Little Rock unguarded,” Sharp said.
Will cursed under his breath. They were spread too thin. They needed more soldiers, but it seemed that the rebuilding efforts and the continued fighting out west had everyone tied up. They were running the Little Rock base with less than a battalion-sized element, not including Colonel Sharp's unit that was on the mission to retrieve the gold.
Will and Jason kept an eye on the shed where the lieutenant and Smith were being held as they tried to form a plan based on various likely circumstances they would encounter when they made their move. As they hashed out their plan, no one came or went except a soldier who had arrived with food. The soldier stayed with them for less than a minute and left.
As Will and the squad readied to execute their plan, a truck pulled up to the shed.
“What are they doing?” Jason asked.
“Moving them?” Walker replied.
Will’s hands balled into fists. “Shit. We are so freaking close.”
“Should we take them now or wait until we’re out on the road?” Jason asked.
“It’s risky either way. If we attack now, they could kill them before we reach them,” Walker said.
Will studied the truck. It was a civilian truck. The tires were bald and the windshield was cracked. They weren’t going far. He doubted the truck would make it ten miles, the way it sounded.
“We’ll wait and take them on the road. Hopefully, they won’t send very many security vehicles with them,” Will said as he picked up the satphone to call it in to headquarters.
Lieutenant Burns and Brad Smith were loaded inside the cab of the pickup, and in less than a minute, it and an older sedan were heading east along County Road 344. Will had his lead vehicle follow closer than would usually be prudent. They couldn’t afford to lose them. If Brad Smith talked, Stephens and Isabella would be walking into a trap.
Twenty-Five
Stephens
Highway 63
Phelps County, Missouri
July 12th
Event + Ten Months
“You can stop right there!” a man yelled as Stephens, Collins, and Hogan topped a hill.
Stephens pulled her reins and slowed her horse. Hogan leaped down and took cover behind his horse. Stephens and Collins remained mounted. Stephens scanned the area looking for others. No one else was visible but she could sense their presence.
“State your business in these parts,” a big man dressed in dirty bibbed overalls and a boonie hat yelled.
Stephens looked him over. He’d survived this long into the apocalypse. She wouldn’t underestimate him.
“That ain’t none of your business,” Hogan replied.
“We’re making it our business,” a second man said, appearing from behind a tree.
Stephens eyed the weapon in his hands. She wondered how they still had ammunition for it. How was it that there were still so many people who still had ammunition?
“I’m looking for someone,” Stephens said.
“And who might that be?” the big man asked.
A young woman appeared to Stephens’ left. She couldn’t have been more than nineteen or twenty. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun. She wore a holster on one hip and another on her opposite thigh. Was she military—or former military?
“Are you bounty hunters?” the blonde woman asked.
“No,” Hogan shouted.
Stephens realized they weren't going to get past these locals without giving them some kind of answer to their questions. And this little girl—where was all this confidence coming from? In the old days someone this young with such display of confidence would turn out to be no more than a brash, cocky person. But there was something very different about this girl. Her confidence seemed to come from more than just experience. Stephens decided a little honesty wouldn’t hurt. She may even get some help from these folks. Stephens turned to the man to her right. He too was dressed in dirty overalls, but his bearing said military—she guessed Army. “Are you in the military?”
The man straightened. “Hooah, 5th Engineer Battalion.”
“Are you stationed at Fort Leonard Wood?”
“I was. It’s no longer an active military base,” the soldier said.
She knew that much. She’d seen how deserted it was when they’d inspected the airfield before heading to retrieved the gold. This guy was a trained military fighter. She could use his skills. Stephens glanced between Collins and Hogan. She needed the help of these people if she had a prayer of accomplishing her mission.
“Are you for hire?”
The question seemed to catch the soldier off guard. “Depends. Who’s doing the paying?”
“Colonel Ryan Sharp,” she said.
“Colonel? Military or law enforcement?” the soldier asked.
“Military,” Hogan said.
“Whose military?” the big man asked.
“Colonel Sharp is with the 1st Cavalry Division out of Fort Hood,” Stephens said.
Stephens tried her best not to reveal too much, but they weren’t having any of it. They were smart—smarter than Stephens had given them credit for, initially.
“You’re full of shit, lady. I don’t know why you think that bullshit story will earn you safe passage out of here in flyover country, but you’re sadly mistaken,” the big man said.
After a tense exchange where rifles were drawn and pointed, Stephens was about to reveal the reason for their presence in the county when a man she recognized appeared from his hiding place behind the wagon. He offered her a nod, acknowledging he recognized her as well, but said nothing. She was shocked to see the FEMA Region Five director there in the middle of nowhere. They’d had a team out looking for this very man. He would prove invaluable in her effort to bring Dempsey’s kingdom down. She almost couldn’t contain her delight with her good fortune.
“You’re with the government? Why are you out here without security?” He was questioning her loyalty. She could understand that.
“We were attacked. The rest of my team didn’t make it.”
“Attacked by whom?” Another male spoke from his hiding place.
How many more of them are there?
Stephens hesitated.
“Who attacked you and killed your team?” the blonde girl asked.
Stephens studied her. She wondered what her story was and how she fit in with the group of men. One thing that seemed clear to Stephens, that girl could handle herself.
“A group of well-armed and well-trained men,” Stephens replied flatly.
Deputy Director of Response and Recovery, Gerald Aims stepped forward. If he recognized her, he didn’t let on. Their meeting years ago had been brief.
“Whereabouts was that?” Aims asked, stepping away from their wagon.
“Iron County,” Stephens said.
“Did one of your men have a tattoo of a grim reaper draped in the American flag?” the girl asked.
Stephe
ns almost fell off her horse. “Yes. How did you know that?”
“Because we found him face down in a ditch yesterday,” the young girl replied, flatly.
“He’s dead?” Stephens asked.
“Yes. Shot in the back. It looked like he’d ridden some distance before dying.”
“We got split up. Peterson and a few others were laying down suppressive fire so I could get away. I got cut off from them. They were surrounded.” Stephens swallowed hard. “Hogan and Collins managed to escape. I met up with them at our rally point. We waited twenty-four hours as agreed. The rest of the team never showed. We ran into some trouble after that. We were stopped on the road by bandits. They took government property from us. We need to get it back.”
“Bandits, you say,” the big man said, turning to the soldier. “Nelson’s men?”
“What did they take?” the soldier asked.
“That’s classified.”
“I guess you won’t be wanting it back then,” the soldier said.
“I need to know where to find those men. I need to reacquire our cargo.”
“You’re going to need an army to reacquire that cargo. What the hell were you thinking traveling with a wagon full of gold?” the big guy asked.
Stephens stiffened. Were they with the group that had stolen the shipment? Had she misjudged them? Her mind was racing. No, she decided. Harding and Aims wouldn’t be involved with that. She decided to try to appeal to their patriotism—if any remained.
Stephens stared at Aims. Without answering the big man’s question, Stephens pointed to a water tank in the back of their wagon and said, “Mind if I give my horse some water while I tell you what's at stake for the nation, Deputy Director Aims?”
“Aims,” the blonde girl said, turning her gaze to him. “What’s her story?”
