Trackers: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  They were coming up on the wreckage of a plane just off Highway 34. The pilots appeared to have attempted a landing on the road, but had missed and crashed into a field instead. A wing protruded from the blazing wreck. Whole groves of trees were ablaze, and the fire was spreading.

  “Holy shit,” Raven said, shaking his head in awe.

  There were several people on the shoulder of the road watching the flames, but no one seemed to be approaching it to help. Not that they could have done any good. Even if someone had survived the crash, they would have perished in the inferno.

  “Where are the emergency crews?” Sandra asked.

  “Probably stranded at their stations.” Raven forced his gaze back to the road as they passed the wreck. There still wasn’t a single working vehicle in sight.

  “I should really get back to the medical center as soon as possible,” Sandra said. “They are going to need me.”

  “It’s going to be chaotic, Sis. Think about it. Anyone who was on life support isn’t going to last.”

  Sandra’s hand fell away from her breast and she sank in her seat. “Teddy,” she whispered.

  “Who’s Teddy?”

  “A five-year-boy who lost his right arm to Necrotizing Fasciitis.”

  “Necrotizing what now?”

  “Flesh-eating bacteria.”

  Raven bit the inside of his lip. He had seen a Marine with that in Iraq. Poor bastard lost half his leg. It was nasty stuff.

  “He’s on a ventilator,” Sandra said.

  “How about I take Allie back to my place while you go to the hospital? I’ll come get you after your shift.”

  Sandra wiped away her tears and put a hand on his arm. “Thank you, Sam. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t found me. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  It felt awkward saying those words after so long, but if there was one good thing that had come out of tonight, it was bonding with his sister. He hadn’t always been a great brother, but at least he had the chance to be there for Sandra and Allie when they needed him most.

  Raven tossed his unlit cigarette out the window. His urge to smoke was gone. All he could think about now was how he was going to protect his family when the bad spirits from the underworld really did emerge.

  It was almost midnight by the time Raven drove through the city limits of Loveland, and the place was wide awake. The plane crash on the edge of town had roused what looked like half the population. People were out on the sidewalks and standing in the streets. Some pointed or waved at Raven’s Jeep, but most seemed too preoccupied with the fire.

  “I can’t believe how many people are outside,” Raven muttered. “Don’t they have the sense to stay at home?”

  Sandra pulled the bolt back in Raven’s rifle to check for a round. “Let me do the talking when we get to Mark’s,” she said.

  Raven wasn’t sure why, but he smiled. His little sister was a healer at heart, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t also a fighter. When it came to Allie, she was as fierce as any mother lion. He just wished she cared about herself as much as she did her daughter. Raven had watched her go from one bad boy to another.

  “You sure know how to pick ‘em,” he said.

  Sandra grunted. “At least I got Allie out of the deal with Mark. More than I can say for you. Last girl you dated was a stripper, Raven.”

  He chuckled. “Scarlet was a professional dancer.”

  “Oh, that’s what they call them these days?”

  “That’s what she said. Who am I to disagree? You wouldn’t call a Marine a soldier, would you?”

  He slowed as a pair of kids no older than ten darted across the street. They stopped to gawk at Raven’s Jeep.

  “Where the hell are their parents?” he grumbled.

  “Hurry up,” Sandra said.

  “I’m hurrying, but I don’t want to hit anyone.”

  Sandra stroked Creek’s head and leaned forward, as if she could make the car go faster by sheer willpower. They passed the rundown middle school, and Raven turned onto Mark’s street.

  A pair of headlights shot around the corner as a small car putted down the street from the opposite direction. Raven eased off the gas and pulled to the side to let an old Volkswagen Beetle by.

  “Looks like we’re not the only ones on the road after all,” Raven said. “Which house am I looking for again?”

  “Green one on the corner.”

  Raven gripped the steering wheel tighter and scanned the street. He had only been here once before, a few months back when Mark needed to be taught a lesson about respecting his baby sister’s boundaries after the divorce. He would have killed Mark if he had gotten there before the police. He wasn’t happy about leaving his only niece with the bastard, even if Mark wasn’t drinking anymore, but that was Sandra’s decision. Still, if he harmed Allie, they’d be finding pieces of Mark for weeks.

  “That one,” Sandra said. She pointed at a large ranch-style house at the next intersection.

  “Remember, don’t say anything to piss him off, and leave the rifle in the truck,” Raven said. “We’re just gonna get Allie and haul ass back to the car, okay?”

  He turned off the Jeep, stuffed the key in his pocket, and reached under his seat for his Glock. With the gun in hand, he stepped out onto the pavement. Whistling at Creek, Raven checked the street again for any onlookers and stuffed the gun behind his shirt. By the time he had turned back to Sandra, she was already fast walking to the front door.

  “Hey, hold on,” Raven said, keeping his voice low. “Watch the truck, Creek.”

  The dog whined but settled onto his hind legs when Raven held his gaze. Creek was as loyal as a dog could be, but sometimes he was a little too anxious to get into trouble.

  Kind of like me, Raven thought.

  He caught up to Sandra at the front step just as she knocked on the door. It creaked open, and the silhouette of a large man appeared. Mark stepped into the moonlight, his blue eyes flitting from Sandra to Raven. “What the hell are you two doing here?”

  Raven faced him, catching a whiff of what smelled like whiskey on his breath. It took everything in Raven’s power to not punch Mark in the face right then.

  “Evening, Mark,” Raven said calmly. “We’re here to pick up Allie. I know it’s late, but—”

  Mark cut him off with a grunt. “Like hell. I have rights, you know. This is my night with her.”

  He stepped closer, looming over them both. Raven stood his ground, keeping his hands at his sides. Mark was nothing but a drunken coward, the type of man who preferred to push around women because he was too afraid to fight a man—even when he outweighed his opponent by fifty pounds.

  “You want to keep those rights?” Sandra asked. “Because I can smell liquor on your breath. You reek of it. You said you were sober, Mark. You promised you were sober.”

  “I am,” Mark said. He ran a hand over his thinning hairline. “I haven’t had a drink since…” He looked at the fire on the horizon, squinting like he hadn’t noticed it before.

  “Mommy?” whispered a voice.

  Sandra wrenched the screen door open. “Allie! Come here, sweetheart.”

  Mark stepped in front of the girl, blocking her and holding up a hand to stop Sandra from entering. “Like hell you’re taking her in the middle of the night. She’s supposed to be in bed right now. And you,” he shook a finger at Raven, “No way I’m letting you in my house after what you did. I haven’t forgotten.”

  Raven ignored him and smiled at his niece. “Hey, kiddo. Do you want to go home?”

  Allie nodded and clutched her stuffed pony closer to her chest. “I want to go with Mommy. It’s dark here, the lights are all out.”

  “Just a power outage. Now go back up to your room.” Mark looked toward the horizon, his eyes unfocused in his drunken haze. “Is something on fire?”

  A low growl came from the street, and Raven turned slightly from Mark to see several large men walking down the
sidewalk. Creek bared his teeth at them.

  Great. Just what I need.

  When he turned back to the door, Mark was already closing it. “Come back tomorrow—without your brother.”

  In a swift motion, Raven stuck his foot in the door, put a shoulder into it, and pushed his way inside. Mark sprawled backward to the floor, letting out a muffled cry.

  Reaching for Allie’s hand, Raven said, “Time to go.”

  Allie ran past him and wrapped her arms around Sandra.

  Mark was already getting to his feet. Some bastards never learned.

  “You’re trespassing, you mother—”

  Raven dropped Mark a second time with a punch straight to the nose. The crack of breaking cartilage was followed by a thump as Mark crashed back to the floor.

  “You never were good enough for my sister,” Raven said, rubbing his knuckles.

  -9-

  Capitol Hill was a madhouse.

  Charlize followed Clint and Albert through hallways lit by emergency lamps. Agent Redline led the way. He hadn’t said another word to them, despite being peppered with questions.

  Capitol Police, Secret Service, and metro police officers wearing SWAT uniforms stood every ten feet, cradling automatic rifles across body armor. The sight of all that firepower did little to relieve the anxiety she felt. While most of the country slept in blissful ignorance, WWIII was well underway.

  Charlize thought of Ty, hoping he was sleeping peacefully in his cabin at camp. She wouldn’t be able to focus on anything else until she knew he was safe.

  The entourage continued through the busy halls. With a start, she realized they were only a few doors down from her office.

  “Can I make a stop?” she asked. “I just need to grab something.”

  Redline turned to one of his men.

  “Harrison, have you heard anything about the vehicles?”

  “ETA about fifteen minutes, sir.”

  “You got five minutes, Senator,” Redline said.

  Albert opened the door to the reception area and holstered his pistol. “Ma’am, I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

  “Thanks, Big Al. You did a fine job getting us here.”

  Clint entered, sweeping his flashlight over the space as Charlize walked to her private office. The room was furnished with two chairs in front of the desk, a larger oval mahogany table behind those, and two white couches facing one another in front of the window across the room. Bookshelves lined the walls. On the top shelf was a model F-15E Strike Eagle.

  Charlize sat down at her desk and took a deep breath. Her office smelled like leather and books, and its familiarity comforted her. She’d spent countless hours here, burying herself in her work after Richard had been killed. She let her eyes close, and for a moment she could pretend this was just a normal day.

  “We really should hurry,” Clint reminded her.

  Framed pictures of her family rested on the middle shelf of the bookcase behind the desk. Her favorite was the one taken at the National Mall six years ago when she had first been elected to Congress. Richard, Nathan, and Ty had all been with her that day. In the picture, they had all been sitting on a bench in front of D.C.’s famous cherry blossom trees. Charlize almost didn’t recognize herself with short hair and a wide, untroubled smile.

  She grabbed the picture and stuffed it into her bag, along with a framed snapshot of her and Richard on their honeymoon in Mexico.

  “Okay, I’m all set,” she said, joining Clint at the door. They returned to the hallway to find Senator Mack Sarcone waiting for them. He was an old-school politician who had held his seat for three decades. He also happened to be the grandfather of one of the girls taken prisoner in North Korea over eighteen months ago.

  “Please tell me this shit isn’t true,” Sarcone said in his heavy Brooklyn accent. Using his fingers as a comb, he parted his thinning black hair to one side.

  “We don’t know anything more than you do,” Charlize replied.

  “This was definitely an attack by the North Koreans,” came a voice. Senator Jack League, one of the oldest members of Congress, was walking down the hallway with several of his staffers. Despite the hour, the old Southern Republican looked as if he’d just come from the Senate floor.

  “My staff just confirmed it,” League said.

  Sarcone’s fingers slipped down his wrinkled forehead. “Those were nukes we launched, weren’t they? And they were heading toward North Korea, right?” He didn’t give League a chance to reply. “I sure as hell hope they kill every single one of those bastards. After what they did to my...”

  Charlize didn’t blame Sarcone or his granddaughter for what was happening, but she couldn’t help but wonder if that raid had played some role in the events unfolding around her.

  “We’re at war,” League said, stroking his long mustache. “Power is out all along the East Coast, not just here. I’m—”

  “Where else?” Charlize interrupted.

  League shook his head. “That’s all I know right now.”

  “We have to find out,” Charlize said. “Virtually every aspect of American society depends on power. Without it, our cities will descend into chaos.”

  The hallway quickly filled with more Congressmen and their support staff, party lines forgotten as they scrambled for every scrap of news. Lanterns and flashlights lit up the frightened faces of colleagues Charlize had worked with—and sometimes against—for years.

  “It’s time to move, Senator Montgomery,” Albert said. He had his gun drawn again.

  A dozen Capitol Police Officers rushed down the hallway, all of them armed with automatic rifles or shotguns. Flashlight beams danced across the marble pillars and stenciled walls like strobe lights. Halfway down the passage, Special Agent Redline was talking to Senator Jamie Ellen. She stood there in heels, a Coach bag in one hand and a briefcase in the other, her cream-colored suit accented with tasteful gold jewelry. Leave it to her to get dressed up for the end of the world.

  “Everyone, please come with us,” Redline said. “We’re evacuating.”

  Sarcone grunted. “And going where?”

  “Please follow me, sir,” Redline said, avoiding the question. Passing through the rotunda, he led the group away from the Senate chambers. Charlize couldn’t help but wonder if this was the last time she would ever see the place. Two sentries were standing guard at the back exit, earpieces hanging uselessly from their ears. The man on the left propped the door open, allowing Redline to advance with his assault rifle shouldered. Charlize half expected to hear the whoosh of a Black Hawk as they left the building, but as soon as they were outside, the stillness of the night closed in.

  It was raining again, just a drizzle compared to before, but Charlize was already cold and the rain made her shiver. She hurried after the group. She was doing her best not to fear the worst, but all she could think of was Ty’s innocent giggle and perfect little smile. He was such a happy kid, despite everything that had happened to him.

  Redline waved the group toward a half dozen black Suburbans. Even more officers waited around the vehicles.

  “Senators Montgomery and Sarcone, with me,” Redline said. He moved to the sixth truck and opened the rear passenger-side door. Clint and Albert tried to follow, but Redline shook his head. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but this is a priority transport.”

  Charlize halted and asked, “What do you mean?”

  Sarcone elbowed passed her and climbed in, sliding his bulk over the seats.

  “We don’t have room to evacuate everyone right now,” Redline said woodenly. “We will come back for the others.”

  Charlize watched other ranking senators pile into the vehicles ahead, but when she turned, Ellen and League were still standing with a small group behind the SUVs.

  “We need to hurry, ma’am,” Redline said. There was an urgency to his words that scared Charlize. Secret Service Agents rarely lost their nerve. The threat, whatever it was, must be imminent.

  “It�
��s okay,” Clint said. “You go.”

  “No,” Charlize replied. “I’m not leaving them. There’s room for everyone if we squeeze in.”

  Redline cursed under his breath. At first Charlize thought she was going to have to pull rank, but Redline must have known better than to argue. He jerked his chin at the vehicle.

  “Thank you,” Charlize said.

  “Why are we not being moved?” Ellen asked. “I want to go with them!”

  She rushed past Redline, but the convoy was already moving. Several staffers ran after her, and Charlize forced her gaze away.

  “Hold on,” the driver of her vehicle said. “We’re going to be moving pretty fast in a minute.”

  Officers at the barricades moved back as the SUVs raced away from Capitol Hill.

  “Where are we going?” Sarcone asked.

  The driver, a middle-aged Secret Service Agent, turned the wheel slightly and pulled out onto Pennsylvania, providing Charlize with the answer. She knew exactly what building was in that direction.

  Clint leaned closer to Charlize and said, “I thought we would be leaving D.C.”

  “I did, too, but there must not be a way to get us out in time,” she whispered back.

  The convoy picked up speed as they moved down Pennsylvania, weaving around stalled cars, tires squealing. Charlize didn’t bother asking how the Secret Service had procured functional vehicles. They could have been in an underground location, or perhaps they were hardened to begin with. She didn’t care, as long as they kept running. Stranded motorists got out of their cars and waved from the side of the road, but the driver didn’t slow.

  Within minutes, their headlights shot across the White House lawn, capturing Secret Service and Marines running to set up positions. Behind them was Marine 1, a magnificent VH-3D Sea King helicopter, rotors idle.

  The trucks rolled to a halt on the southwest side of the building. Albert jumped out and opened the back door, holding out a hand for Charlize. She grabbed her backpack, climbed out of the Suburban, and followed the group toward the dark building. She had the bizarre impulse to run for the chopper, fire it up, and fly all the way to Colorado. Charlize blinked the fantasy away. If the Sea King helicopter still worked, it would already be in the air.