It had already been hammered with nuclear weapons. That was where he would make his move.
Jim had already reconnoitered that area pretty well when Doug went out. There wasn’t much out there other than mountains and trees. It looked like one big forest. As the aircraft started to cross back into Georgia, Jim tentatively lost a little altitude and watched Trevor for a response.
The man in the polo shirt seemed to be distracted with something else. He kept typing on his screen. Encouraged, Jim lost a little more altitude. He wanted to make the distance between the mountaintops and the Peregrine as little as possible.
He froze when Trevor calmly said, “I wouldn’t do that.” His cold eyes were staring right at Jim from over the monitors. “Ascend to 15,000 feet. Now.”
Jim had a choice to make. He was only a few thousand feet above the mountains now. Some of those peaks were four or five thousand feet in height. The Peregrine was only a little over 8,000 feet above sea level. If he didn’t go now, he wouldn’t get another chance.
As he looked over his monitor, he met Trevor’s eyes and pushed the stick forward. Trevor grimaced. “I was afraid you’d choose that route.” As Trevor stood to reach for the gun tucked into his waistband, Jim reached forward and killed the engine.
Trevor immediately sat back down and tried to get it to restart. If Jim had simply pointed the nose downward, he could have killed him and taken the stick himself. Flying was relatively simple. They needed Jim for takeoff and landing. Trevor could guide it in the air. As the turbine struggled to restart, Jim killed it again.
As he looked back up at Trevor, he saw the flash of light as a bullet left the end of his pistol and entered his brain. He never even heard the shot.
Trevor scrambled around and pushed Jim’s body out of the chair. He frantically tried to restart the engine as the Peregrine lost altitude. As it came to life, he reached for the stick to pull up and gain altitude.
But it was too late. The Peregrine burrowed into the side of the mountain, shedding its long, slender wings and the attached bombs in the process.
Trevor cursed. The teams had run into light resistance when they got to the target location. The lead vehicle had identified the four individuals on foot. Then they had taken small arms fire from what appeared to be a Private stationed on a hillside. The Private had taken two men down before he was neutralized.
His men had killed three more people who appeared to be Army Soldiers. What they were doing out in bumfuck Carolina, he had no idea. Then one of the tubs had been neutralized when it was rammed by a huge tanker truck.
After that, his men had spread out in a net to capture what he was now calling the insurgents. He was getting reports that they were closing the loop and moving forward when the driver of one of the Canids started yelling that they were being engaged by Apache helicopters.
It was only moments before comms went out entirely. He could still see a GPS beacon out in the middle of nowhere along the side of a mountain, but he couldn’t raise anybody on the radio.
This was bad. This was very bad. Somehow, the insurgents had hooked up with an Army group of some sort in the minutes before his teams had arrived. What the fuck were the chances of that?
He slammed his palm down on the table. They must have an angel watching over them or something. There was very little in the world capable of taking down two AWESOME scout vehicles and two Canids, along with two elite operations teams. A pair of Apaches was one of those very few things.
The Senator was in Alabama meeting with a new political ally. He was going to need to call in a few favors from the Air Force before this whole thing got out of hand.
Chapter 41
Jensen sat in a hard metal chair in an empty room. He hadn’t seen or heard anyone but his guard in the thirty minutes since his wrist was bandaged up. He had no knowledge of what had happened to Jessica and the others. He hoped they’d gotten away.
The door opened abruptly and a man with the rank of Major walked into the room. He looked far too old to be a Major. He smiled at Jensen. “That was some engagement out there, wasn’t it, Captain?”
Jensen hesitated to answer. “I can explain that. It’s going to be hard to believe, but I have an explanation.”
The Major held up his hands. “We’ll get to that. I just want to ask you a few questions, first. I’m Major Bulder. I’ve been asked to find out a few things about you.” He looked at Jensen, now without his plate carrier. “I understand you were a Captain in the Army?” Jensen nodded.
Worry flashed through his mind. Was he going to be tried for desertion? What sort of soldier was this Major anyway? He wasn’t tied to the chair or anything, but he certainly felt like a prisoner.
“Can you tell me how you got separated from your unit?”
There it was. Even after the world basically ended and the bounds of society melted away, the Army was still most concerned about making sure someone was coming to work on time. It’s not like he’d been getting paid or anything. The Major seemed to sense his discomfort and held up his hands again.
“We’re not here to talk about you leaving the Army. I’m just trying to get some background information. If you were in real trouble, I’d have read you your rights before we started talking. This is just a chat between you and me.”
As the silence stretched on, the Major continued. “Ok, how about I start then? I retired from the Army in 2024. I did twelve years enlisted as a HUMINT guy and another ten as a physician’s assistant. I’m in here because I have some experience talking to people.”
“If you retired eight years ago, what are you doing here now? In uniform?”
Major Bulder nodded. “That’s a fair question. I’m not officially recalled to active duty, but a friend of mine asked me to help with medical care for his troops.” He shrugged, “When you retire, you’re always subject to recall if needed. So here I am.
“How about you? There was a Captain’s rank insignia on your plate carrier. You carry yourself like a military man. What’s your background?”
The ease of the conversation and the apparent openness of the man in front of him helped Jensen feel a little bit more at ease. According to him, he wasn’t even military, just a retiree here for medical assistance.
“I grew up in Colorado, joined the Army out of ROTC after Chicago happened. I was teaching at the Army AWESOME Center for Excellence at Fort Benning when the virus happened. After the nukes, there was nobody left to teach, so I started heading north.”
The Major nodded encouragingly and seemed to file this away. “I see. Can’t blame you for getting away. A lot of the bases didn’t make it through the attacks. Most of these folks are from Fort Bragg, and you know what happened to that.”
Jensen raised an eyebrow slightly and shook his head. “Nuke?”
In response, the Major nodded again. “Many. We think it got hit by more nuclear weapons than even Washington D.C.” He paused. “Of course there were survivors. Many folks were on leave or TDY. Most were at home, off base. If the bombs had hit later in the day, most of us wouldn’t be here.
“So you left Fort Benning, what, about six months ago?”
Jensen thought back. That seemed right. He knew it was May now, but the months sort of seemed to run together. “I think that’s right.”
The Major nodded. He seemed to agree with everything.
“Where did you run into your friends? Are they from Fort Benning, too?”
Jensen sat up a little bit. “You found them? Are they okay? Are they here?”
Bulder closed his eyes and held up his hands again. “They’re fine. Just fine. Not a scratch on them.”
Relief coursed through his body. Somehow, they had made it to a safe place.
“I’ll talk to them soon, but I wanted to talk to you first.” He motioned to someone outside the doorway, and a Sergeant walked in carrying the Accuracy International rifle. “This is an interesting rifle. I’m curious as to how you got it.”
“It was a gif
t.”
The smile turned to a scowl. “Now that doesn’t sound right. The man who owned this rifle would never give it away. So, tell me again, how did you get this rifle?”
Jensen noted the change in tone but proceeded anyway. “You knew Aaron? Did you serve together?”
The Major held out his hand for the rifle and gripped it. “No, my friend knew Aaron. He would really like to know what happened to him and why you have this rifle.” Jensen noted the tension in the Major’s voice and the white in his knuckles as he gripped the long rifle. It appeared as though he were ready to swing it at his face if he answered incorrectly.
“My group met a guy named Brent up in the mountains, from Dahlonega. He knew Aaron. Aaron came and stayed with us for a while. He gave the rifle to Brent before … before he killed himself. Brent gave it to me.”
The Major’s hand relaxed ever so slightly. He waved toward the man standing in the door.
In seconds, a new personage filled the doorway. The man was easily six foot three and built like a Mack truck. His hair was cropped close to his head. “You say Aaron killed himself?”
Jensen noticed the eagle on the man’s collar and shot to his feet. Old habits die hard. He winced from the pain in his wrist as he curled his fingers into his palm.
The Major smiled. “Well we have our answer on that one. He was definitely Army.”
The Colonel in the doorway didn’t smile, he just waved Jensen back into his seat. “Tell me about Aaron.”
For some reason, Jensen knew this was dangerous. “I, I wasn’t actually there when he died. A couple months ago, Aaron came to the cabin in Georgia where we were all staying. He was checking up on Brent and a group of people from Dahlonega.
“I guess he spent a couple days in the woods first, then popped in one night. We had no idea he was even there.” Jensen weighed his words carefully, “Then some of the people started getting sick. We thought Aaron might have brought it. He was afraid his wife, Sasha, was sick, so he went home.
“He was with Sheila, Brent, and Daniel. They told me Sasha had died just before he got back. He was so distraught that he killed himself.”
The Colonel looked at him coldly, “Are Sheila, Brent, or Daniel here with you?”
Jensen couldn’t help but answer now. If he didn’t, he was putting his friends at risk. If he did, he could be putting them at risk anyway. “Daniel is here. He’s the big guy. Sheila was killed in an attack by the people who attacked us on the road. Brent went back to Dahlonega. He wanted to be near his wife.”
When he heard one of the people in the group had been there, the Major quietly left the room. He was clearly going to speak to Daniel. He left the rifle propped by the door.
The Colonel moved into the room a couple of steps to allow the Major to pass. At that range, Jensen could read his nametag: Simmons. It didn’t seem familiar, but the Army had a lot of Colonels. “Brent. Was that Brent Phillips?”
Jensen shrugged. “I don’t know, sir. We only knew him as Brent. His wife’s name was … Renee, no, Rebecca.”
The Colonel nodded. “That’s Phillips. He’s the one who gave you the rifle?”
Jensen nodded.
“Why?” If this man knew both Aaron and Brent, Jensen didn’t want to tell him what he suspected. He might blame him for not stopping him.
“Sir, I think he planned to join his wife.”
The Colonel looked impatient. “You already said that.”
Jensen tried to be diplomatic while still being discrete. “Sir, Rebecca died.”
Realization hit the Colonel. “You think he was going back home to die?”
Jensen nodded in response.
“You didn’t try to stop him?”
At this, Jensen shrunk back a little into the chair. “No, sir. His mind seemed pretty made up.”
“When?”
Jensen thought back. Since the night at the stream, they’d walked for several days to get out of the mountains and up to the encampment. “A few days ago. Maybe four. I don’t know, exactly.”
The Colonel raised his head slightly and spoke. “White!”
The Sergeant poked his head in the door. “Yes, sir?”
“I want a helo to Dahlonega. Tell them to find Brent Phillips and bring him back here.” Then he added, “If he’s still alive. Bring medical supplies.” He took one last look at Jensen before he turned toward the door and picked up Aaron’s rifle on his way out.
The door clicked closed gently behind him.
Chapter 42
Madison couldn’t find Krystin. Maybe she was out somewhere helping in the fields or something. It wasn’t a court day. Court only happened once a week on Friday morning. It was to be expected, she supposed. Krystin tried hard to be involved in everything. It was one reason she was able to make such good decisions.
Not wanting to be away too long, Madison grabbed two more water bottles and filled them. Her home was hooked into Krystin’s next door. The solar panels were good, but not big enough to run both homes. They only had the basics, like lights, water, and cooking. Running the air conditioning depleted the batteries too fast.
Other homes had more, some had less. The ones who had been in Dahlonega the longest had the best assets, while those who arrived later had to make do with what was left. Madison could have gotten a better place, but she wanted to be near Krystin. They looked out for each other. Someone had to, these days.
As she approached Brent’s home for a third time that day, her steps slowed. She hoped she wouldn’t find a corpse in the chair, or even worse, if he had gotten up and found some other way to harm himself. Her steps quickened until she was almost running. She hadn’t considered that. She should have stayed with him.
She had heard somewhere that you never leave a suicidal person. It may have been from a friend or on a commercial, she wasn’t sure. But she had. If Brent wanted to die, she had just given him the opportunity.
When she careened into the backyard, he was still there. She watched for a moment, wondering if he was truly dead now. His chest rose and fell slowly. Madison felt a brief hint of joy. She rushed to his side and put the water to his mouth again. She wanted to give him some food but hadn’t thought to bring any from her home.
He looked like he was starving. What could have happened? She had run this route a couple days before and didn’t notice anything amiss. Had he just arrived? Why hadn’t he come into town? There was plenty of food.
Brent had stopped drinking. The water was just dribbling down his chin now, so she pulled the bottle away. Off in the distance, she could hear the sound of a helicopter. It got louder and louder until it sounded like it was right on top of her, but she couldn’t see it anywhere. The sound of the rotors seemed to fade. Maybe it had flown over.
Madison checked for a pulse in his wrist again. She still couldn’t find one. The little bit of water she had provided him wouldn’t be enough. She wanted to go for help, but now she didn’t want to leave him. What if he did wake up and try to kill himself? She’d never forgive herself. She needed to keep him in sight.
The athletic redhead was trying to think of ways to signal someone else while she kept him in sight when she heard a pounding on the door and a loud voice. “Brent! Brent Phillips! Are you here?” Madison ran through the open back door and unlocked the front. She saw two military men and a woman standing in front holding bags.
She pointed through the open living room toward the back door where she could still see part of Brent’s shoulder and his chair. “He’s back there! He needs help!”
The woman was the first through the door and gently pushed Madison aside as she ran to the backyard. “Brent! Can you hear me? Please move something if you can hear me.”
Madison left the front door hanging open and followed the rushing military personnel into the yard. The woman already had a flashlight out, checking Brent’s pupils. She heard the woman softly exclaim, “Oh, shit.” She looked back saying, “Hey Red, what happened to him?”
; “I don’t know, he was like this when I found him. He was moving around a couple hours ago, though. I saw movement in his house when I went on my run earlier.”
The man to her left seemed relieved. “That’s a good sign. We may be able to save him.” He looked at Brent and then in her direction. “Are you sure it was him and not someone else?”
She held out her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “I think it was him. There wasn’t anybody else here!”
The woman had already cut through Brent’s sleeves and was trying to find a pulse, or maybe searching for an artery. Madison wasn’t sure.
“I’ve got nothing here.” She pulled the blanket off him and started cutting at his pants. “I’m going in the femoral.”
The other man asked hesitantly, “Wouldn’t the jugular be more effective?”
She nodded, as though it was a reasonable question. “Yes, but we have to move him. I can secure a femoral line better.”
Madison watched as the woman put her thumb and forefinger into different spots on Brent’s groin. She quickly swabbed the exposed skin and aimed a large needle using the web between her forefinger and thumb. A little bit of blood rose into the clear tube. “Got it!”
The man to her left held a clear bag high in the air as she adjusted the feed rate. The woman pulled a stethoscope out of her bag and held the end to his chest, listening intently. She was still for so long that Madison was about to ask what she was doing when the woman pulled the stethoscope out of her ears and pushed it down into the bag.
“He’s tachy; it’s tough to say exactly what his heart rate is right now. We need to get him on a bed and into the chopper, now.” She reached for the clear bag and held it while the two men rushed back toward the helicopter. The woman turned to Madison. “Come hold this.” She handed the bag to Madison and curled her fingers over the top before letting go. She looked her in the eyes and said, “Thank you. You may have saved his life.” Then she turned to her bag and pulled out a small syringe.
Madison couldn’t see what was inside, but she injected it into the needle feed of the IV line and then started cutting away the rest of his jacket and shirt. “We need this stuff gone for the heart monitor and in case we need to have to shock him. His heart is going nuts.”
Tomorrow's Dawn (Book 3): Escape and Evade Page 17