“Yes, sir!” The man relayed the message then took his seat, his eyes scanning the area ahead of the vehicles. “Sir, if they stay on their current trajectory, they’ll be entering the city limits in less than five minutes.” He turned worried eyes to the colonel. “Drone is ten minutes out, sir.”
Colonel Nelson cursed under his breath. “I don’t care if these sons of bitches try to hide in an orphanage that is buried in a fucking convent…we will take them out with ordinance if we have to.”
The technician swallowed hard. “Y-yes, sir. Tactical team has eyes on the t…arget vehicle, sir.”
“Tell them to maintain visual. Reaper is eight minutes out.” The vein in Colonel Nelson’s forehead bulged as his blood pressure increased.
“Copy that…sir.”
Colonel Nelson leaned back and crossed his arms. His eyes never left the drone feed. “We got you now boys. Give your hearts to God because your ass belongs to me.”
36
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
* * *
JAY TRIED TO maintain eye contact with Agent Chesterfield as he silently uttered a prayer for the safety and well-being of his friends.
Chesterfield droned on about the ins and outs of the operation. Who knew what, who approved what, and who directed others to do what. Jay wished he could pay more attention to what the man said, but his mind was sitting beside Bridger in the Humvee as he sped away from their underground compound.
He stepped away and spotted al-Abadi, kneeling and rocking back and forth. He knew from his eastward orientation that the little man was praying. He could only hope that he was praying for the two men who might well be sacrificing themselves to save their collective asses.
Somewhere South of Dallas, TX
* * *
BRIDGER PUSHED THE military Humvee to its limit, silently hoping that the 6.2 liter Detroit diesel didn’t blow up as he maxed out the tachometer. He slowed the truck for the turn that he knew was just ahead. He cranked the steering wheel and the oversized 4X4 squelched in the loose gravel as it threatened to slide into the ditch.
Once the truck was pointed in the same direction as the road, he pushed the accelerator to the floor again and listened to the old truck groan as it threw gravel. Rocks pinged off of the bottom skid plates and Bridger craned his neck to peer into the sky. He knew he wouldn’t see it coming, but he hoped for some sign… a reflection against the shiny skin of the aircraft or drone headed toward him.
He prayed that Roger made it to town before the airstrike. He also silently hoped that they misread the signs of the strike team backing off. He knew what it meant, but there was still that minute chance that they all had read the signals wrong.
He actually chuckled to himself as he realized he was grasping at straws. He knew exactly what a strategic withdrawal meant. No strike team worth their salt would back off after suffering the losses that they had suffered.
Hell, at this point, he’d consider himself fortunate if they didn’t use a nuke on him.
He glanced to the sky once more then tightened the grip on his steering wheel. He only had a few more miles to go…
Somewhere South of Dallas, TX
ROGER FELT THE Humvee shudder as the oversized tires bit onto the pavement. He only had two miles left before he hit the closest town. He could park the Humvee and walk to a bus stop if he had to. There was no way in hell that the government would put this many civilians at risk to kill a handful of men.
Would they?
He found himself scanning the sky ahead, looking for some sign of the incoming threat. He slammed on the brakes when a dog trotted out in front of him and the Humvee slid slightly sideways. For the briefest of moments he wished he had just run over the mangy stray.
He goosed the accelerator and as he crested the next hill and could see the beginnings of buildings in the distance. The road sign stated that he was about to enter Yantis. Roger’s mind raced. He knew that the tiny town wasn’t far from Quitman, and if he could cross the water, he could make it to Bridger’s place. It may not be the safest place in the world, but it could be fortified.
Well…against people. He had no idea what might be headed toward him. Worst case scenario, he could stay to the woods surrounding Bridger’s house. He knew there were enough spider holes out there that he could stay hidden for days if need be.
He just had to survive long enough to get there.
Camp Deric, South of Dallas, TX
“IS THAT IT?” Chesterfield looked to the men expectantly. “Do you think maybe I can clean myself up a bit before—”
“It’s over when I say it’s over.” Jay paced, glancing out the windows and staring at his watch. “Slippy, how’s it look out there?”
Gregg shrugged. “I have no heat signatures showing but we have at least one camera down. Assuming they don’t know where to hide, I’d say bets are good we’re safe.”
Steve squinted at the front windows, his face still red from the gas. “I say we make a break for it.”
Jay laid a hand on Deric’s shoulder. “You still have that old Suburban?”
Deric nodded, his skin still burning. “We may need to jump it, but the tires were up on it the last time I looked.”
Jay snapped his fingers. “We got three men injured, a runaway arms dealer and a shit covered CIA agent.”
Slippy leaned back in his chair. “Not to mention that Viktor is in custody.”
Jay snatched Chesterfield by the collar. “Then I suppose we work a trade.” He fished his cuff key from his pocket and unlocked the man. “The head is that way. You come back smelling like this and your ass is strapped to the hood.”
Darren stiffened. “I might need some clothes.”
Jay nodded to Slippy. “Get him something to wear.”
“Pink and frilly, coming right up.” Gregg hopped from the chair and led Chesterfield away.
“Are you boys up to traveling?” Jay asked. Jim continued to stare out the window, not hearing him. Steve and Deric both gave a thumbs up. “Get Jim to the transport. I’ll be there shortly to get it started.”
He watched the men walk out and stared at all of the computer gear that Slippy had brought. He went to the head and motioned to Gregg. “Gather only what you need. I’ll watch shithead. See if the Suburban will start and if not, we’ll put a power pack on it.”
“On it.”
Jay took a deep breath and blew it out hard. He pushed the door to the bathroom open and stepped in. “Just so you know, if anything happens to those guys, I’m holding you responsible.”
Chesterfield swallowed hard. “I can try to contact the situation room…let them know to stand down.”
Jay raised a brow. “They’re sending death here knowing you’re inside. Do you really think they’d listen?”
Darren shook his head, his face paling. “No.”
“Get dressed.” Jay shut the door behind him and swirled the handcuffs around his finger while he waited.
Once the door opened Chesterfield found himself pushed to the wall. Hard.
“What the…”
“You may have spilled your guts, but I don’t trust you.” He pushed the cuffs closed with a loud series of clicks then pulled the man off the wall. “You’re lucky you get to ride in the back.”
Langley, VA
* * *
“WE’VE GOT THEM, sir.” The tech pointed to the two trucks speeding along a dirt road. “The rear vehicle is our tac-team.”
“You don’t say,” Nelson replied flatly. “Tell them to drop back and bring the Reaper in low and slow. It’s risky enough to bring this monster so close to a populated area, but I definitely don’t want anybody seeing the strike.”
“Yes, sir.” The tech relayed the instructions and the black SUV immediately slowed. The screen showed the Reaper drop in altitude until it was just meters from the ground. It stayed just above the rising dust cloud behind the Humvee.
“Prepare to loose weapons.”
Somewhere
South of Dallas, TX
* * *
BRIDGER COULD BARELY make out the SUV behind him. If it weren’t for their daytime running lamps, he couldn’t be certain they were following him. At least Roger has a chance.
He pushed the Humvee far harder than it was designed for and his target appeared ahead of him. For the first time in a long time, he held out a little hope that he might survive this.
Bobby tried to push his foot harder against the floor but the accelerator was fully depressed. He could see the overpass in the distance, the train tracks riding them would be his avenue of escape.
He felt his heart rate increase at the crazy idea he had and prayed that he could actually perform the feat of idiocy that he had in mind.
As the tracks approached, he felt the hair on his neck and his arms rise with anticipation. He called it his spidey sense, and it had never failed him.
His head snapped around and he peered through both side mirrors. Something is wrong.
He couldn’t see the daytime running lamps in the rear mirror any longer and he knew…they had dropped back. That could mean only one thing.
Bridger willed the truck to move faster, praying that he could still pull off his Houdini act. He reached for the door latch as the overpass approached and prayed.
Langley, VA
* * *
COLONEL NELSON LEANED in closer and stared at the image on the screen. “Don’t lose him. Do NOT let him get under that bridge.”
“Sir, I don’t know if the Reaper can follow him under that—”
“That’s why I said don’t let him make it!” Colonel Nelson reached around the man. “Weapons free! Take those sons of bitches out!”
“Weapons free.” The tech’s voice sounded small in the moment.
Colonel Nelson watched as the missile trail shot in front of the camera and the Humvee exploded just as it entered the shadows of the bridge. The Reaper banked upward and over the train tracks. “Circle around and verify.”
The tech gave him a sickened look. “Sir, we watched the vehicle disintegrate—”
“I said VERIFY.” Nelson’s face left no room for doubt that it was an order.
“Yes, sir.” The drone operator made a wide circle and slowed the approach. They zoomed in the camera and burning bits of debris could be seen scattered for nearly a hundred yards. Thick black smoke rose and curled around the concrete stanchions of the bridge.
“No signs of life, Colonel.”
Nelson crossed his arms and gave the screen a self-satisfied smile. “One down. Locate the other.”
Quitman, TX
* * *
ROGER SLOWED THE Humvee and stopped at the edge of Quitman. He could feel his hands shaking as the adrenaline coursed through him. He tried to slow his heart rate and focus. He had only been to Bridger’s place twice and he’d not taken the same path either time. “My kingdom for a fucking GPS right now!” He slammed his hand on the steering wheel.
He slowly rolled through the small town, his eyes searching for anything remotely familiar. He goosed the accelerator and prayed to whatever deity that might be listening to please show him the way.
Roger drove through the small town and a particular paved road called to him. He slowed and stared down the length. “I’ve got nothing else.”
He turned and floored the accelerator. He knew that if nothing else, it would get him clear of the populated center of town should their worst fears manifest.
Roger noticed a familiar sign and willed the accelerator harder. A bend in the road with a large tree hanging over one edge had his heart racing. “I’m on the right road. I can feel it.”
He rounded the bend and stood on the brakes, skidding the Humvee nearly into the oncoming lane and getting yelled at by a particularly surly looking farmer in an old pickup.
Roger stared at the dirt road to his left and turned the Humvee onto it. “This is it. This is it.” The couple of times he had been to Bridger’s he had entered from the other side, but the last time he left, he had come this way. He was nearly certain.
Roger pushed the Humvee down the dirt road and slowed when a familiar crest came into view. He scanned the foliage on his right and nearly whooped when he noted the chain laying across the front of the cattle guard leading to Bridger’s place.
Roger stopped the Humvee just shy of the cattle guard and swallowed hard. Bridger wouldn’t leave the chain down…
Another adrenaline spike forced his hand and Roger urged the Humvee over the cattle guard and onto Bridger’s property. He didn’t know why, but he felt he’d stand a better chance against whoever was there if he came in hot. He pressed the go-pedal down and when he rounded the bend near Bobby’s house, he slid the Humvee to a stop, peppering the area with gravel and dirt.
Roger hit the kill switch as he climbed from the truck and did a quick search of the area. He pushed his brain to focus. He knew that Bridger had hidey-holes scattered throughout his property. He also knew that the place was littered with traps.
He felt that metallic taste of fear, that impending sense of doom, and turned to run into the woods. He prayed that he didn’t find any of Bridger’s traps before he found a safe place to hide.
Langley, VA
* * *
COLONEL NELSON WATCHED as the Reaper closed on the location that the satellite had tracked the other truck. It was well hidden under the canopy of old growth trees, but he knew where they were.
“How stupid of them. Return to Bridger’s place?” He rubbed at his chin. This didn’t make sense to him. A group capable of breaking into the most secure location on the planet and they run here when they suspect they’re being tracked? “Do we have a layout of the place?”
“County records state there are no structures on the property, sir.”
Nelson shook his head. “We know better, don’t we?” He nodded to the tech. “Lock onto the last known location. Level the goddam place if you have to.”
“Sir, we only have three missiles left.” The tech swallowed hard and stared at the colonel.
“Then I suggest you use them wisely.” Nelson pointed to the screen. “Weapons free.”
Wood County, TX
* * *
ROGER PULLED THE tarp back from the entrance and stared into the darkness. It wasn’t much of a hole, but there were two wooden crates inside. He assumed they held either weapons or ammunition or both. “Bless your heart for being so paranoid, Bobby.” He began to work his way into the hole and froze.
One thought raced through his mind. Spiders.
The explosion just to his left had him diving into the hole, spiders be damned. He pulled the tarp over the opening as debris began to rain down on top of the shelter.
“Please, god, don’t let this become a tomb.”
37
South of Dallas, TX
* * *
JAY SAT IN the passenger seat while Gregg drove the old Suburban onto the highway. The truck was eerily silent as the group made their way towards the highway.
Deric had turned and took in the damage to his personal survival compound. He made a mental note: Nothing short of a nuclear missile silo could keep out a determined force. He smiled to himself. He happened to know where there was an abandoned silo for sale.
Gregg glanced at Jay. “I’m sure they’re okay.”
Jay barely nodded. “We’ll find out.” He turned and stared out the window as the truck took them home.
He looked to Slippy when the truck slowed and came to a rolling stop. “What?”
Gregg pointed to his left. “Smoke.”
Everybody craned their necks and looked to the northwest. Jay swallowed hard and urged Slippy to keep driving. “Probably some redneck burning trash.”
Gregg nodded. “Yeah. Lots if it.”
Jim stared at the fire and knew. Smoke that black and that thick had to have tires in it. Large tires, like what you’d find on their Humvee. He kept his thoughts to himself as the group continued.
Wood County
, TX
* * *
ROGER HUNKERED IN the hole and prayed. Each blast was only minutes apart. He could almost imagine the drone strafing the area then circling around to check the damage before firing another shot. He could have sworn he heard the thing make its approach before the final shot.
He heard what sounded like two more fly-bys before the craft left. Was it circling overhead, waiting for him to make his presence known? What was the flight time for these things?
Roger waited and continued to pray. When he felt that enough time had gone by, he slowly pulled the tarp back from the entrance and poked his head out. The place was leveled. The smell of fresh plowed earth, splintered wood and jet fuel could nearly be tasted. He pulled himself from the shelter and stood up. Pieces of the Humvee were still smoldering and what looked like it might have been Bridger’s home was now a twisted metal shell with soil and vegetation scattered inside.
Roger made his way carefully over the rough terrain and stood on the edge of what once was Bridger’s home. He could see what few personal effects the man had scattered about, some still smoldering.
“Fuck me.” He spun a slow circle and stared at the carnage. “These guys ain’t playing.”
Roger stumbled and staggered as he made his way across the ruined property. He had just made his way to where he had left the Humvee when a small fleet of Sheriff’s cruisers slid to a stop behind him.
Flags of The Forgoten Page 32