Trackers Omnibus [Books 1-4]

by Smith, Nicholas Sansbury

  Both of the men stepped forward, glass crunching under their shoes. The bigger of the pair dropped the boxes and turned to run.

  “Don’t move!” the other officer yelled.

  The looters took off in separate directions, prescription drug boxes tumbling across the concrete. The officers gave chase, and Charlize finally lowered her gun. She stuck it back into her waistband as the police vanished around the next corner.

  “Ma’am,” Albert began to say.

  “I know. Let’s go.”

  The paramedics retreated to their ambulance and the crowd moved on, the chatter of the shocked citizens echoing down the streets.

  Albert kept his gun out as he crossed into Pennsylvania Avenue. The dome of the Capitol looked eerie in the moonlight, like something out of a dream—familiar, and at the same time, utterly strange.

  They turned down 12th Street, heading for the Mall. Albert guided them around the dead vehicles, some of them still guarded by their owners, all waiting to be rescued or told what to do.

  Charlize, Albert, and Clint didn’t stop to answer their questions. The nighttime trek through the nation’s capital reaffirmed her worst suspicions. Americans, in most cases, were not ready for a catastrophe. Most of these city dwellers wouldn’t survive the month without cell phones and take-out dinners.

  Pop, pop, pop.

  Gunshots sounded nearby, and Charlize’s hand went for her gun. There was no way to know if the officers were firing on the looters, or if the looters had been armed, or if it had anything to do with the robbery she’d just witnessed.

  Waving with the beam of his flashlight, Albert said, “Come on, ma’am, we’re almost there.”

  The familiar shapes of the Smithsonian Institution emerged in the darkness. Charlize kept pace with Albert as they neared the National Mall. They had made it to Constitutional Avenue when another sound rang out. It started off as a guttural booming not unlike a rocket blasting off, and it quickly rose into a thundering vroom.

  Charlize halted in the middle of the empty street. Far beyond the edges of the dark city, something was rising into the sky above the ocean, leaving a trail of fiery exhaust. She followed the trail up, recognizing the nuclear-tipped ballistic missile. Mutually assured destruction, she thought. Intellectually, she had already accepted this could be the end of the world, or at least the world she knew. But actually seeing the launch of the retaliatory strike was different. She felt the shock like a physical blow, not unlike the times her F-15 Strike Eagle was shot at in Afghanistan.

  The missile, joined by several others in the distance, streaked into the clouds as they curved away from an American submarine lurking somewhere under the chilly surface of the Atlantic Ocean. She had little doubt they were headed to turn North Korea into a smoking crater.

  “My God,” Clint said.

  “God has nothing to do with this,” Charlize whispered. “This is mutually assured…” Her words trailed off, unable to finish her sentence. Somewhere inside of her she had held onto hope that things weren’t as bad as they seemed, but that, she knew, was a lie.

  Albert lowered his gun and flashlight like a soldier surrendering to the enemy. “Were those nukes?”

  Charlize nodded and said, “Fire from the clouds,” the motto of the 33rd Fighter Wing—a motto she never thought she’d use again.

  She watched the final missile disappear into the sky, and then she took off running toward Capitol Hill.

  — 7 —

  Raven slowed as his headlights washed over a snaking line of people on the road. Hundreds of people from Estes Park had been out looking for Melissa Stone when the F-16s fell from the sky. Those that weren’t with the largest group searching at Prospect Mountain were returning from a sweep of the foothills outside the park.

  Raven was still attempting to process everything that had happened in the past four hours, and Major Sardetti wasn’t helping matters.

  “This is all confidential,” Nathan was saying. “What I’m telling you should not be relayed to the public. It will only incite panic; that’s why I was reluctant to tell you anything, Ms. Spears.”

  “Understood,” Colton said. “But as police chief, I need to know what’s going on.”

  “First Lieutenant Blake and I were sent on a combat air patrol earlier this evening at the governor’s request. It seemed like a routine CAP. Thirty minutes in, the air traffic control from Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma contacted the two other pilots from the 120th to check out a Chinese commercial airliner heading toward Wichita over the Rockies. A few minutes after that, the Chinese pilots became unresponsive. The airliner changed course toward Denver and started climbing.”

  “Chinese?” Raven asked. “So this wasn’t North Korea?”

  “Let the major finish,” Colton said. “I’m guessing there’s more to the story.”

  Nathan nodded. “It wasn’t a Chinese plane; it was a North Korean Ilyushin II-28 that was carrying a nuclear weapon. Best way I can figure it is the North Koreans used fake transponder codes to look like a Chinese plane. Those bastards are damn good at hacking. Blake and I turned around for support when the plane went off radar. By the time we saw the blast, it was too late. The EMP fried our systems, and I lost all control of my Viper.”

  Raven wanted to pound the steering wheel but gripped it tighter instead. His jaw clenched as if he was trying to bite back the confession of what his team had done in North Korea eighteen months earlier. He already felt like the guilt was going to smash him flatter than roadkill.

  Sandra caught his gaze in the rearview mirror. She had a hand over her mouth, and her eyes were shining with unshed tears.

  “I have to find a working radio to contact Buckley AFB,” Nathan said. “Do you have any ham radios at the station?”

  Colton shook his head. “Afraid not. Everything went to digital.”

  “Great,” Nathan said. “My nephew is near Empire, so if I can’t find a radio here, my next priority is to reach him. How far is it from Estes Park?”

  “A couple hours south of here by car,” Colton said. “But on foot…”

  Raven steered the Jeep around an abandoned car and continued toward the town, passing the cabins and resorts nestled along Fall River.

  “Major, what about the nuke?” Colton said. “How much of the grid would it have knocked out?”

  “Hard to say. Depends on how powerful the weapon was.”

  “Guess,” Raven said.

  Nathan scratched his chin. “From what I know about nuclear attacks, experts say it would only take one very powerful weapon set off at eighty thousand feet or so over Missouri or another central location to knock out our entire grid.”

  “How far up was that plane?” Raven asked.

  “Over fifty thousand feet,” Nathan replied. “My guess is that all of Colorado is dark.”

  Sandra gasped from the back seat. “The entire state?”

  “What about radiation?” Colton asked. “Should we be worried?”

  Nathan focused his green eyes on Colton. “It depends on the winds, and again, on the power of the weapon.”

  “I’ll ask my officers to find the battery-operated Geiger counters as soon as I get back to the station.”

  “I have another question,” Raven said.

  Nathan looked over.

  “Is it possible there were more nukes set off across the country?”

  “I’m praying that’s not the case,” Nathan said. “But I think we should all prepare for the worst.”

  A hard silence filled the vehicle. Raven wished he could turn on some tunes to lighten the mood, but none of the regular channels were broadcasting anymore. More than anything, he wished he could drown himself in a bottle of liquor. But if the country was at war, he would need his senses sharp.

  He eased off the gas as they approached a group of people waving from the center of Highway 34 just outside of town.

  “Keep driving,” Colton ordered.

  No one spoke for several moments. Sandra
broke the silence with a whimper. She cupped her head with her hands. “This day just keeps getting worse. First that note, then…”

  “What note?” Raven asked.

  Sandra looked up and shook her head. “It’s nothing. I just want to get Allie back.”

  “Don’t worry, Sis. We’ll get her after we drop them off at the station.”

  “Okay,” she said, sucking in another breath. “Okay.”

  “Honestly, if I were you, I’d stay put,” Nathan said.

  Raven twisted to look him in the eye. “Why’s that?”

  “Aside from the threat of radiation? Look ahead.”

  Clicking the high beams back on, Raven steered down the final stretch of the highway before they hit town. The lights hit more figures trekking along the roadway, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. If there was one thing he hated more than being told what to do, it was being patronized.

  “What, Major? Why don’t you tell me what you see, ’cause I just see more people walking.”

  “That’s the point,” Nathan said. “There isn’t a single other working car on the road right now. When people realize their cars aren’t going to turn back on, they are going to be looking at this one with very envious eyes.”

  Raven reached for a cigarette and wedged it between his lips with shaky fingers. He didn’t like Nathan’s attitude, but the major was right. People were already stopping to look at his Jeep. If Nathan’s theory was correct, then those curious stares were going to turn into something much worse in the coming days.

  When they reached town, Raven turned onto the main street, a stretch of restaurants, jewelry and t-shirt shops, ice cream parlors, and hiking stores that was usually alive with tourists. Now it was empty save for a few pedestrians. One of them pointed at his vehicle, and Raven hit the gas.

  The parking lot beside the town hall was mostly vacant, and the immaculate green grass of Bond Park was untouched by the usual couples and families. Raven pulled into the lot and put the Jeep in park. He tucked the unlit cigarette under the side of his baseball cap. If the world really was ending, then he’d need to ration his smokes.

  “I’ll help you with Melissa, then we’re out of here,” Raven said.

  “You don’t want to stick around to see what the Geiger counters say?” Colton got out of the truck and threw the strap of his AR-15 over his back.

  Raven checked with his sister, but she shook her head. “I have to get to Allie.”

  “We’re sure, Chief,” he said.

  “Suit yourself.”

  “Thanks for wrapping my ankle, Sandra,” Nathan said, holding out his hand to her. Raven did not like the way the stuck-up major was looking at his sister. “Best of luck getting to your daughter.”

  Nathan glanced at Raven next. “Be careful out there. The roads are going to get dangerous. You drive to Loveland as fast as you can and don’t stop for anything until you get there. That goes double for the trip back.”

  “Yes sir,” Raven replied, barely keeping the sarcasm from his voice. Between Colton and this guy, he felt like he was back in the Marines again, being ordered around by a couple of bullies.

  Nathan looked at Sandra one more time and then limped toward town hall. She climbed into the front seat and whistled for Creek to jump up with her.

  Colton dropped his gear outside the front doors of town hall, propping one open with a bag. Then he returned for Melissa’s body. With Raven’s assistance, they hoisted her from the Jeep.

  “Thanks for what you did up there. When you get back from Loveland, stop by the station. I’ll make sure you get paid, plus a bonus for the extra trouble,” Colton said.

  Raven had completely forgotten about the check, which was very unlike him. Hell, he wasn’t even sure the bank would be able to cash a check now.

  “Thanks, Chief.” He paused and then added, “I’m sorry we couldn’t save her.”

  Colton picked Melissa up in both arms and carried the dead girl into the building. Several officers came to help. One of them was Don Aragon, who gave Raven a stern look. If it were up to the patrol sergeant, Raven would be sitting behind bars in the Larimer County Jail. Raven tipped his hat to him with a wry grin as he walked away.

  “You know where those Geiger counters are, Don?” Colton asked.

  Raven didn’t stick around to listen to the conversation. He shut the lift gate after retrieving his crossbow and his Remington 700 rifle. He didn’t want to use them, but he was glad they were armed. Shit was about to get chaotic out here, and he had his family to protect.

  Jumping in the truck, he handed Sandra the rifle. “Remember how to use this?”

  Sandra stared at the rifle like it was some sort of alien artifact. He checked his sister’s dark brown eyes. They were wide and frightened, but not panicked. After a moment, she rested the stock against her shoulder and angled the muzzle toward the open window.

  “Yeah, I remember,” she said.

  “Good, because you’re riding shotgun tonight, little sister. Let’s go get Allie.”

  ***

  Charlize wished she could climb inside a fighter jet and tear through the sky, dropping bombs on the North Korean bastards that had sent the United States back to the stone age in the blink of an eye.

  She could still hear the rumble of the rockets in the distance, but by the time the nukes reached Pyongyang, most of the government leaders and their families would already be underground. Satellite images had showed the massive bunkers the North Koreans had built to shield the elite from nuclear attacks. There were entire cities built below ground.

  The twenty-eight thousand American troops on the border, along with the innocent North Korean and South Korean civilians, would likely die from the blast while the madman who had ordered the strike against the United States sheltered in luxury. She closed her eyes, hoping that the soldiers and civilians had gotten evacuation orders in time.

  “You okay?” Clint asked.

  Charlize lied to her Chief of Staff with a nod and continued down Madison Drive NW toward the Capitol. There were only two cars on the entire road, and Charlize didn’t see a single person inside the dead vehicles. The soothing trickle of rain and the breeze whispering through the branches were the only sounds. The silence of the usually vibrant city gave her the chills. It was like being in outer space.

  Albert jogged down the road, gun still drawn but the muzzle pointed at the ground. He checked their six every few feet and scanned the park for any signs of civilians, but the National Mall was deserted. Nothing stirred in the shadows.

  It took them ten minutes to move down Madison Drive. They passed the National Gallery of Art, where Richard had liked to take Charlize on dates when she had first been elected to Congress. That seemed like so long ago. How long would it be before power and normalcy was restored to Washington? She had the terrible feeling that nobody would be enjoying lattes at the museum café for a long time—maybe never again.

  “Ma’am,” Albert said, keeping his voice low. He pointed at the intersection of 3rd Street, and Charlize ran to catch up. Clint panted a few paces behind her.

  “I told you to quit smoking,” Charlize said.

  Clint forced a smile between breaths. “Working for you is stressful, ma’am. I have to relax somehow.”

  When they reached the corner of Pennsylvania, Albert clicked off his flashlight and halted. A cloud swallowed the moon, and blinding darkness spread across the city like a blanket had been pulled over it.

  “Why are we stopping?” Clint whispered.

  Charlize strained to see through the wall of darkness. It closed in, suffocating, pressing on her in the silence.

  “Stay back,” Albert said. “Senator, get behind me.”

  Charlize made out shapes moving across Pennsylvania Avenue. Combat experience taught her that the eyes could play tricks on you in the dark. The shapes might have been hostiles, or they might have just been shadows.

  She reached for her M9, but she didn’t yet pull it fr
om her waistband. She kept an eye on the moving shapes, waiting for the next break in the clouds.

  “Big Al, can we get some light back here?” Clint asked.

  Albert didn’t reply, and Charlize slowly pulled her M9. Something had the big guy spooked. The sound of footfalls on the concrete sent a spike of adrenaline through her veins, the tingle prickling up her arms. The noise seemed to be coming from every direction, but that was impossible. Charlize hadn’t seen anyone behind them.

  “Ma’am, Clint, put your hands above your heads,” Albert said, his voice calm but firm.

  A sliver of the moon suddenly emerged, and its glow fell over two dozen police officers surrounding them. They came from all directions, assault rifles and shotguns shouldered. Most of them were dressed in SWAT gear except for a squad of men moving up Pennsylvania wearing black suits and ties. The leader, a middle-aged man with a crew cut and solid jawline, shouldered a Knight’s SR-16 CQB assault rifle.

  “Drop your guns!” he shouted.

  Albert quickly placed his pistol on the ground and said, “Albert Randall, Capitol Police. Badge number…”

  An officer in SWAT gear kicked the pistol away from Albert and put his hands behind his back.

  “Hands above your heads!” someone shouted at Charlize and Clint.

  They both did as ordered.

  “I’m Senator Charlize Montgomery, and I’m trying to get to my office,” Charlize said.

  The leader lowered his assault rifle as the SWAT officers patted Charlize and Clint down. One of the men yanked Charlize’s M9 away. A flashlight shone in her face. She squinted at the bright light but didn’t raise a hand to shield her eyes.

  The man with the assault rifle kept the flashlight on Charlize. “I’m Special Agent Timothy Redline with the Secret Service. What’s your security number, Senator?”

  “1984Whiskey2001,” Charlize quickly replied.

  Agent Redline directed the light to a pad of paper and then glanced back up.

  “My apologies, ma’am, but we’ve been moved to DEFCON 1 so I have to check everyone. My team will escort you to the Capitol.”