“Not a chance, lady. I’ll send one of my men with you.” He turned to wave at the truck. “Carson, get your ass down here.”
As soon as the man turned, Martha took off running. If they had killed soldiers for those suits, then there was no telling what they would do to the kids. Martha couldn’t help the children already in the truck, but maybe she could lead the men away from Micah and Emma.
“Stop!” shouted the leader, anger rising in his voice.
She jumped into the ditch and made a run for the fort of blackened trees at the bottom of a nearby hill. A gunshot rang out, the crack shattering the quiet of the afternoon. Adolescent screams followed. Martha looked over her shoulder to see a boy in a wheelchair in the back of the pickup truck. He was shouting at the so-called Sons of Liberty to stop, but they were ignoring him.
Muzzles flashed, and rounds lanced into the ground next to her. The trees were still a hundred feet away. She wasn’t going to make it.
Martha began to raise her hands in surrender when a bullet slammed into her shoulder, forcing her to the ground so violently that it knocked the air from her lungs. She hit the dirt hard, red flashing across her vision.
The injury was bad; she knew it right away by the lack of pain. The helpless feeling of being hurt without knowing how badly filled her with dread. She gasped for air and slowly rolled to her left side. The air hissing out of her chest meant she might have a punctured lung.
She knew then the wound wasn’t survivable.
If the bullet had hit an artery, she’d be dead in minutes. Even if it hadn’t, she’d be dead long before any help arrived.
“Why’d you have to go and do that, lady?”
Martha blinked away the tears welling in her eyes and glared at the leader, who was towering over her.
“I told them not to shoot you, but I guess one of them missed. Confidentially, I’m starting to think my men are enjoying this whole end of the world thing.”
Micah and Emma started yelling, their thin, high voices carrying on the chill wind.
“What…” Martha wheezed. “What are you going to do with them?”
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt them. They’re far too valuable. The government will pay a pretty penny to get those kids back. Some of ‘em are cripples, but even the defective ones are probably worth something.”
He stood and clucked his tongue like he was lecturing a child. “We got to get out of here before those fires catch up. You want a bullet in the head? It’s all I can do for you now.”
“No,” she moaned, shaking her head from side to side. “Please, no.”
He shrugged. “Your choice.”
She watched the man slowly walk back down the slope to the road, leaving her there to die alone as the flames to the west slowly crept toward her.
— 1 —
Two Days Later
Estes Park Police Chief Marcus Colton stood in the chilly morning wind at the barricade blocking Highway 7. Several volunteers flanked him, all of them looking out over the highway in silence. They now knew why there weren’t any refugees and stranded tourists staggering up the road.
They were all dead.
The radiation zone started about thirty miles to the south, and things were worse out there than anyone had predicted. Five days had passed since the North Korean attack. In that short time, several residents of Estes Park had lost their lives to the Tankala brothers. The police department, with the help of Major Nathan Sardetti and Sam ‘Raven’ Spears, had dealt with the serial killers, but justice had come at a high cost for the town of Estes Park, Colorado.
Colton had lost his best friend, Captain Jake Englewood, and Officer Rick Nelson was in the intensive care unit at the Estes Park Medical Center. He’d been trying to stop three junkies from robbing a grocery store pharmacy and gotten a brick to his skull for it. Detective Lindsey Plymouth and Raven Spears were tracking the assailants down while Colton waited at the roadblock for an update from Patrol Sergeant Don Aragon.
An hour earlier, Colton had sent Don south along Highway 7 in Raven’s Jeep wearing a CBRN suit to scope out the area. He hadn’t checked in, and Colton was growing impatient.
He pushed the radio to his lips and said, “Don, do you copy? Over.”
There was a long pause, followed by static, and finally Don’s Western drawl. “Lots of interference, but I can read you, Chief.”
“You got a SITREP?” Colton asked. “Any survivors?”
“Negative, Chief. Everyone out here is dead.”
Colton sucked on his cigarette, careful not to waste any of the precious tobacco. His hand was shaking when he pulled it away—a combination of PTSD, nerves, and early-onset arthritis. Colton cursed under his breath. He’d been looking forward to retiring in a few years, spending more time with his family. Instead, he was trying to hold the town together while the rest of the country fell apart.
“All right, head out just a bit farther and then report back,” Colton said. He clipped the walkie-talkie back on his duty belt and gave a nod to Rex Stone. Colton had found the Stones’ missing daughter, Melissa, murdered just before the EMP attack. Rex stood now in the bed of a pickup truck with a Springfield bolt-action rifle trained on the road.
“Didn’t find anyone?” Rex asked in a gruff voice, his eyes fixed straight ahead. Five days ago, he’d been an easy-going, soft-spoken man. The initial shock of losing his daughter seemed to be turning to anger—an anger without a target. It was a dangerous combination. Colton wasn’t so sure putting Rex to work was a good idea, but his old friend had insisted.
Colton shook his head and walked to the shoulder of the road to wait for Don. The lack of refugees at least solved the growing dispute between Colton and his new second-in-command about whether to let more people into town.
Twenty-four hours earlier, not long after Colton had returned from Prospect Mountain with Jake’s body, he had instructed his officers and armed volunteers to continue turning away refugees unless they possessed a specific skill that could benefit the town. People like doctors, engineers, mechanics, and police officers were highly needed. But since the storms had dumped radiation over southern and central Colorado, there hadn’t been anyone to turn away, and Colton was beginning to wonder if there was anyone still out there.
He studied the snow-brushed mountains as they waited. Winter was near, and he wasn’t sure he could get Estes Park through the cold without Jake. Even with the unexpected help of Raven, Colton didn’t have enough manpower to get through the challenges Estes Park would face in the next few months.
First on Colton’s list was to find the bastards that had put one of his officers in a coma. Raven and Lindsey were already working on that, but even if they did catch those responsible, there wasn’t room in the small Estes Park jail to hold them. Theo, the thug that had started a shootout at Raven’s house, was already locked up, along with several citizens who’d been caught looting.
“Got a vehicle inbound!” Rex shouted.
Colton looked up from his cigarette to scan the highway for Raven’s Jeep. Instead, the growl of a diesel engine echoed off the bluffs. He reached for the grip of his Single Action Army Revolver, but he kept it holstered when he saw it was Lindsey driving Jake’s red 1952 Chevy pickup. Raven sat in the passenger seat, and Nathan was in the bed with a rucksack over his shoulders.
Colton took one last drag and stomped the butt out before walking down the road to meet the truck. Lindsey pulled onto the shoulder and waved.
“Mornin’, Chief,” she said.
Raven hopped out and went to the lift gate to let his dog out and help Nathan down. The new K9 unit and the battered pilot walked over, Creek’s tail wagging as he trotted next to the men. Nathan’s broken arm was in a cast, and his skin was covered in lacerations and bruises. He and Raven had both taken a hell of a beating on Prospect Mountain in the battle that had left Brown Feather and Turtle Tankala, as well as Jake, dead.
“Major, you look like you got run over by a car, the
n a bus, then a train,” Colton said. “When are those Marines coming to get you? I thought Secretary Montgomery was sending them out to pick you up.”
Nathan shrugged. Even that seemed to hurt. He winced and looked out over the road. “I haven’t heard anything, but they must still be looking for my nephew. I thought I might get a better signal out of the valley, just in case my sister tries to reach me.”
Colton still couldn’t believe the pilot was the brother of the Secretary of Defense. He also had a bad feeling that the Marines searching for Nathan’s nephew weren’t going to find anyone alive at the Easterseals camp in Empire, Colorado.
Lindsey pulled off a pair of aviator sunglasses and met Colton’s gaze. The past five days had etched new lines around her eyes.
“Any luck?” he asked.
“We canvassed several folks on Black Canyon Drive, including the Arnettes,” she said. “They think they saw the suspects running across Devils Gulch Road yesterday.”
“You think they could be hiding out in a house there?” Colton asked.
“That’s my guess,” Lindsey said.
Raven ambled over to them. A bandage masked the gash on his cheek and bags hung below his dark eyes, but despite his injuries he seemed in high spirits. Colton snorted. Give Raven something to chase and he’d be happy in hell itself.
“Lots of people live up that way, Chief,” Raven said. “They could be anywhere. My suggestion would be to send a message to folks up there to keep an eye out and send word if they see anything.”
“Can’t risk it,” Colton replied. “Remember, our suspects are addicts, and when their pills run out, they will be looking for a new source. No telling what they’ll do to get more.”
“The Chief is right,” Nathan added. “You need to find them before they hurt someone else.”
“What do you want us to do, Chief?” Lindsey asked. Her shoulder-length red hair fluttered in the wind. She was in her early twenties—too young, it seemed to Colton, to experience the horror of the past several days. He’d fought alongside men and women her age or even younger in Afghanistan. It changed them. Hell, it had changed him, too.
“Take Creek and see if he can pick up a scent. Maybe we can narrow down their location. If you locate our suspects, I want to know before you move in,” Colton said.
Lindsey nodded, and Raven touched the bill of his baseball cap.
“Good luck,” Colton said. He went to pat Creek, but the dog was already darting after Raven. The Akita might be designated as a K9 unit, but he was loyal to one man and one man only.
Colton was reaching for another cigarette when his radio crackled.
“Chief, you copy?”
Colton plucked the radio off his duty belt and brought it to his lips. “Go ahead.”
“I found a survivor,” Don heaved. “A woman. She’s in bad shape, sir. Looks like—” Static crackled over his voice.
“Come again,” Colton said. “You’re breaking up.”
“She’s—” Static. “Shot.”
The word sent a chill through Colton. He lowered the radio and pivoted back to the Chevy.
“Hold up, Lindsey!” he said. “Move the barrier. I’m heading out, too.”
Rex and the other men holding the road stared at him without moving.
“Do it,” Colton said.
Several of the men began shifting the concrete blocks.
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Raven asked.
“Don found a survivor on the road. Sounds like she’s been shot,” Colton said. “We’re going to pick her up.”
“Without suits?” Lindsey asked, leaning out of the truck’s window.
Colton cursed. He had forgotten about the radiation. He raised the radio back to his lips.
“Don, can you get that woman back to town on your own?”
White noise crackled from the speakers, a long delay before the reply. Don spoke in a low voice as if he didn’t want to be overheard.
“Sir, I don’t think she’s going to make it. Even if I get her back to the hospital, we’re already low on medical supplies. We have to look after our own.”
Colton almost cursed a second time. He had set a dangerous precedent by ordering his officers to turn people away. But never once had he told any of them to abandon someone who needed medical attention.
What would Jake have done?
That answer was an easy one. Colton knew his best friend would have carried the wounded stranger on his back, if need be.
Colton clicked the radio. “We’re not in the business of leaving people out there to die. Bring that woman back to town.”
“But sir, I thought we agreed—”
“That’s an order.”
“All due respect, but this is a waste of time and resources,” Don said.
Everyone on the road was staring at Colton now, the tension palpable around him. Some of the volunteers probably agreed with Don, but this wasn’t a democracy. Colton called the shots, and he had to show everyone that he was still in charge of Estes Park.
He pressed the radio button again and said, “Do your job, Sergeant!”
There was no response, just the buzz of static.
“Good call, Chief,” Nathan said. “That guy is a piece of work. You better watch your back around him.”
“Get going,” Colton said. “I’ll handle this. You find those junkies. I want them locked up by nightfall.”
“Okay, Chief,” Lindsey said.
Colton folded his arms across his chest and looked back out over the mountains, recalling the night of the attack when he and Raven had found Melissa Stone’s body. He’d known when the jets crashed and the lights went out that it was the start of something larger, but he’d had no idea that in five short days he would be the one deciding who lived and who died. With a heavy sigh, he jammed another cigarette in his mouth and went back to work.
***
Ty Montgomery coughed into the gas mask strapped to his face. The world smelled like burning cedar and plastic. His hands were zip-tied to the armrests of his wheelchair. There was no use in fighting the restraints. Even if he could slip out of them, there was nowhere to go. He was trapped with the other kids in the back of a pickup truck. There were four of them from the camp, all around his age, plus the new kids, Micah and Emma.
This was the second time they had been moved in the past two days. They had spent last night in a warehouse. A couple of the campers were autistic, and the constant chaos was hard on them, but the men didn’t care. They just shouted and pushed the kids around.
Ty’s best friend at camp, Alex, was right to have hidden when the soldiers came. If Ty had been able to, he would have done the same thing, but he had been captured along with these other kids, and the men were treating them like animals.
Sometimes, it seemed like this was all a bad dream. Except that it smelled too nasty and hurt too much to be a dream. He tried again to process the events of the past five days. First the massive explosion that had sounded like a volcano erupting. Then the fires. His friends had all been taken to different locations at the camp where they had taken shelter from something called radiation. After the rain had stopped, the Sons of Liberty soldiers had shown up with guns. Then they shot Mr. Barton and Mr. Gonzalez. That’s when Alex had limped away and hid.
Ty shivered at the memory. Mr. Barton and Mr. Gonzalez had been his friends. He just hoped that Alex was okay, but deep down, Ty had a bad feeling that he wasn’t. Alex had a minor form of cerebral palsy, and Ty was worried he wouldn’t be able to take care of himself. He wished he’d gotten to say goodbye.
“Up there!” shouted a muffled voice.
The truck slowed and the soldiers all stood in the bed of the truck. Most of them didn’t talk much around him and the other kids. The only nice one was a young man with a pimply face named Tommy. His arms and neck were covered in tattoos like the others, but he never shouted.
Ty listened whenever the men did talk where he could hear them. They called them
selves the Sons of Liberty, and their leader was the General. He had a smooth voice and squiggly scar on his head, like Harry Potter. The General kept saying the time had come to take back the country from the corrupt government and restore it to what it was meant to be back when the nation was founded. The other men always cheered.
Ty didn’t understand. His mom was in the government, and she was brave and kind. Why did they want to take it back from people like her?
These men weren’t like any soldiers Ty had ever met. They certainly weren’t like his Uncle Nathan or his mom. These men all wore funny looking space suits, and instead of helping people, they kidnapped children and shot that old lady in the back.
She wasn’t the first person they had killed along the road.
A jolt rocked the truck, and Ty grabbed the armrests of his wheelchair. His blindfold slipped down enough that he could see Tommy and another man named Carson standing to his left.
“Pull off,” Carson ordered. He patted the roof of the cab.
The pickup crawled to a stop, and Carson jumped out onto the road. Tommy remained behind.
“It’s okay,” he said to the kids. “We’re just stopping for a few minutes.”
The muffled voices of the other soldiers sounded from all directions. They piled out of the vehicles in front of the convoy. Ty bowed his head to see better over his blindfold.
On the shoulder of the road, under a canopy of evergreens, stood a man and woman. They were both wearing backpacks stuffed with camping gear. The man waved to the Sons of Liberty, and a beaming smile spread across his face.
“You guys sure are a sight for sore eyes. My girlfriend and I were starting to think we were the last people on Earth!”
“We haven’t seen anyone for over a day,” the woman said. She wrapped her arms around her chest, shivering.
Ty wanted to tell them to run, but it wouldn’t do any good. They wouldn’t make it far.
Two of the other soldiers, Joshua and Bernie, strode toward the couple. They were both thickly built with bushy beards, shaved heads, and tattoos. They approached with their guns lowered toward the ground. The General joined them a moment later.
Trackers Omnibus [Books 1-4] Page 28