He licked his lips, leaving them glistening. “The government has failed us. From one soldier to another, you already know that the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. I will lead the Sons of Liberty to take back what’s ours.”
“Fuck you,” Dupree snorted. “Don’t quote a Founding Father, you psychotic piece of shit.”
“Man,” Fenix said, his smile widening. “I was going to give you a swift death, but you just pissed me off. Let’s go, boys. I want to get these vehicles and weapons back to the Castle before dark.”
Dupree tried to raise himself up. He’d made his peace with dying, but he wasn’t going to do it at the feet of some White Supremacist jack-off with delusions of grandeur.
Fenix watched him with an amused smile still plastered on his face. After a moment, Dupree collapsed back to the pavement, his strength gone. He reached out in vain for his pistol, which lay several yards away, his fingers raking through the mess of ash and blood.
The man mimed a gun with his thumb and forefinger, like a kid playing cops and robbers. “Bang, bang,” Fenix said, chuckling to himself, before walking away.
— 8 —
“You’re lucky he didn’t shoot you in the head,” said Sandra Spears.
Cindy Todd sat on the hospital bed in front of Sandra, both hands cuffed to the rails. The bullet had grazed her right shoulder. From what Sandra could see, the damage appeared to be limited to the epidermis and outer dermis.
The wound wasn’t nearly as bad as the other gunshot victim, Martha. The woman Colton and Don had brought in from Highway 7 was lucky to be alive. It was remarkable, really. She should have been dead after the exposure to radiation, dehydration, and blood loss.
Some people are survivors, Sandra mused. And some just get lucky, whether they deserve it or not.
She continued cleaning Cindy’s wound to prepare it for Doctor Duffy. When she had finished, he began stitching up the skin. That task became increasingly difficult every time Cindy opened her mouth. Sandra wanted to slap her—or worse—and Duffy didn’t seem much more enthusiastic about treating their latest patient.
“The pig killed Eric. That piece of shit killed him!” Cindy said. She yelped in pain as Duffy yanked on a knot. “C’mon, at least gimme something. This fucking hurts.”
Sandra reached for the nearby cart for a topical anesthetic, but hesitated when Duffy shook his head.
“Chief Colton said no pain meds.”
“What? That’s barbaric!” Cindy protested. “I need them. Those pigs shot me!”
“My brother shot you,” Sandra said. “He’s not a police officer.”
Cindy looked away from the wound to meet Sandra’s gaze. Sweat dribbled down Cindy’s forehead and snot dripped from her nose—signs that she was suffering from opiate withdrawal. Sandra had seen this hundreds of times in patients. She had also seen it in both her ex-husband and Brown Feather. There was nothing like first-hand experience to identify an addict.
Without the opiates, Cindy would continue to crash until she was debilitated from a fever and terrible pain. It was like having the worst cold imaginable for weeks straight. Normally Sandra would have shown empathy, but she felt none for this woman. She was glad they weren’t wasting medicine to treat her. Part of her wished Raven had finished the job.
No, you’re both better than that.
Thoughts of Officer Rick Nelson and his family filled her mind as she waited for Doctor Duffy to finish stitching up the woman’s shoulder. Did Cindy have any idea what she had done? Could she comprehend how her actions had ruined lives?
“You’re lucky you didn’t hurt my brother,” Sandra said, unable to hold back her anger.
“Whatever, bitch,” Cindy said.
Duffy shot Sandra a glare that told her to back off. She took a step away from the bed and watched as he continued to stitch up the wound. Cindy wiggled and squirmed against her restraints.
“Hold still,” Duffy said. He paused and waited for Cindy to relax, then continued with the stitches.
A knock on the door interrupted him on the last loop. Sergeant Aragon stepped inside the emergency room. He fixated on Cindy, his nostrils flared like an enraged animal. It seemed Sandra wasn’t the only one who wanted to give Cindy a good dressing down.
“Miss Spears,” Don said, his gaze shifting to her. “Your brother is outside in the parking lot and needs to talk to you.”
“About what?” Sandra asked.
Don shrugged. “Didn’t say.” Sandra shook her head. If Raven was in trouble again, so help her…
“I’ll finish up here,” Duffy said.
Sandra didn’t bother saying anything else to Cindy on her way out. Nothing she could say would have an impact on a delusional, addicted mind.
Sandra tossed her gloves into a wastebasket and reached for the hand sanitizer in her pocket as she followed Don into the hallway. He pushed open the double doors that led to the intensive care unit, where the smell of bleach filled her nose. White partitions separated beds from one another in the open space.
She tried to slip by unnoticed, but Doctor Newton called after her. “I need some help with Martha when you have a moment. Meet me in the isolation ward.”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” Sandra said. She hustled through the room but slowed when she saw the drape cordoning off Teddy’s bed was partially open. He was sitting up, blond hair ruffled in all directions, concentrating intently as he tried to figure out how to open a water bottle with only one hand.
“Hi, Teddy,” Sandra said, waving.
He smiled, his cheeks dimpling. “Hi, Nurse Spears.”
Seeing the boy smile was a miracle in itself, but watching him struggle with a small task like that made her heart ache. Children were resilient; even Allie was recovering just a day after being kidnapped and threatened by Brown Feather. But neither of them was out of the woods yet. It was going to take a lot of therapy to help Allie, and Teddy needed constant medical support.
Sandra left the ward, promising to bring Allie for a visit later, and jogged toward the lobby. Her daughter came running over from her seat next to Marie Brown, Teddy’s mother, who’d become her usual babysitter during Sandra’s shifts at the hospital.
“Mama, Uncle Raven and Creek are outside,” Allie said, extending her hands.
Sandra hugged Allie, but kept her eyes on Raven in the parking lot. He was talking with Colton and Nathan next to his Jeep. Creek was sitting on his haunches near the bumper, looking up at the open lift gate. Inside were bags of gear and two CBRN suits.
“Allie, stay here,” Sandra said.
“But Mom—”
Sandra hunched down in front of her daughter. “Baby, I’ll be right back. Okay?”
Eyes downcast, Allie nodded solemnly. Sandra walked over to the doors, palmed them open, and strode out into the cool breeze.
“Raven, you want to explain all that gear in your Jeep?” Sandra said.
“Hey, sis,” he replied gingerly.
She could tell by his sheepish grin that he was nervous.
“Where are you headed?” she asked.
Raven looked at Nathan and then Colton for support, but Sandra snapped her fingers to draw her brother’s attention.
“Don’t look at him. I asked you a question, Sam.”
Nathan limped forward. His features were so swollen Sandra hardly recognized him. Her brother didn’t look much better. The three men remained silent, none of them wanting to answer her question.
“Well?” she asked, moving her hands to her hips.
“I asked Raven if he would help track Nathan’s nephew,” Colton said. “I can’t send any officers out there with them, and Raven’s skills are perfect. If anyone can find Ty, it’s—”
Sandra interrupted with a huff. “I thought a team was sent to find this boy?”
Nathan squinted as if he was in pain, probably because he was. The pilot had been through the meat grinder over the course of the
past few days. If it were up to Sandra, he would be lying in a hospital bed.
“Ma’am—” he began to say when she cut him off.
“I told you not to call me ma’am.”
Nathan sighed. “Sorry, Sandra. Someone took my nephew and killed two camp counselors. My sister is going crazy with worry.”
Sandra brought her arms up and folded them across her chest. The cold bit through her scrubs, but it wasn’t the wind that had just given her the chills.
“Who would do such a thing?” she asked. All trace of anger had slipped from her voice.
“We’re not sure, but I’m hoping we will find out with your brother’s help,” Nathan said.
“Creek’s going to stay here to look after you and Allie,” Raven added, finally remembering how to speak. The dog stood and let out a low whine. “It’s okay, boy. I won’t be gone long.”
Sandra shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t understand how either of you think you’re in any shape to go out there. You both look like shit. Do you know what will happen if you get an infection, Raven? Without antibiotics, you could die from a cut. And Nathan, you have a broken arm, for God’s sake.”
“All due respect, but I’m trained for this sort of thing,” Nathan said.
Raven nodded in agreement. “Same here. Have you forgotten I was a Force Recon Marine?”
A beeping sound came from the back of the Jeep. Nathan limped back over to his gear.
“That’s probably my sister,” he said.
A female voice sounded over the channel, but it didn’t sound like the one Sandra had heard on Prospect Mountain.
“Major Sardetti, do you copy?”
Nathan pulled the radio from his rucksack and brought the receiver to his lips. “Roger that, this is Major Sardetti.”
“This is Lieutenant Marco of the USS John Stennis. Secretary Montgomery asked me to get in touch with you to relay a message.”
Nathan clicked the receiver. “Go ahead, over.”
“Lieutenant Dupree’s team was attacked on Interstate 70 about fifteen minutes ago. The Black Hawk managed to escape with half the team, but Lieutenant Dupree and several other Marines are MIA, presumed KIA.”
Nathan cursed and lowered the receiver.
“Secretary Montgomery was moved to a secure location, but has given you the green light to head out and find her son.”
A voice pulled Sandra back to the medical ward.
“Allie, get back here,” said Marie Brown.
Sandra turned to see Allie walking into the parking lot. Marie stood in front of the building, lipping sorry to Sandra.
“Come here, sweetie,” Sandra said. The girl buried her head in the crook of Sandra’s arm.
“Major, do you copy?” Marco said over the radio.
Nathan held the receiver out in hesitation, then brought it back to his lips. “Tell my sister I’m heading out right now.”
***
Raven watched Creek run after the Jeep in his side mirror. He almost slammed on the brakes to pick up his dog. For the past eighteen months, they had been best friends. Inseparable, even. Creek never talked back, always had Raven’s back, and was a hell of a companion. That’s exactly why Raven wouldn’t risk bringing him. He simply couldn’t ensure the dog’s safety in the radioactive landscape.
He gunned the engine on the road out of town, leaving behind his dog, his family, and the town he now called home. This wasn’t goodbye—it was just see you later.
Or so he kept telling himself.
Sandra was going to be pissed at him for a while, but he owed Nathan. Raven was the only one who could help the pilot right now.
“Still got a couple good hours of sunlight,” Nathan said. “We should be able to make it most of the way before it gets too dark.”
“Where was Dupree last seen?”
Nathan draped a map over his knees. “Somewhere around this area on Interstate 70.”
“Okay, then that’s where we’re headed,” Raven said.
“Normally it would be quicker to take US-36, but I have a feeling those roads will be packed with refugees.” He studied the map for several minutes. “Yeah, let’s take Highway 7. It turns into 72 and then 119 intersects with Interstate 70.”
Raven looked up as they passed Prospect Mountain. Brown Feather and Turtle were still up there.
Let them rot.
He slowed as he approached the roadblock on Highway 7. John Palmer, the firefighter turned soldier, was manning the barriers. He lowered his rifle and walked up to the driver’s side window, eying the Jeep and their CBRN suits quizzically.
“Headed south?” Palmer asked. “Chief Colton approved this?”
“Yeah,” Raven said.
Palmer looked to the south, then back at Raven, shaking his head.
“Good luck,” he said, patting the Jeep. He motioned for his men to move the barriers out of the way.
As the Jeep growled away from Estes Park, Raven steeled himself for the road ahead. The men who had taken Ty weren’t his only concern. From the sound of it, they were going to run into bodies. Lots of bodies.
He looked over his shoulder at his gear bag. The empty back seat made Raven sigh. He already missed Creek. Nathan was checking his Colt AR-15. He pulled a magazine from his rucksack and palmed it in the gun. Then he chambered a round with a click. He rested the gun next to him and pulled his M9. He placed the loaded pistol on the dashboard.
“I’m going to charge your rifle, too,” Nathan said.
Raven reached out to stop him. “I’m good with my crossbow.”
“No,” Nathan said firmly. “You’re not taking a knife to a gun fight. Whoever took out half of Lieutenant Dupree’s team are very well trained.”
“How do you know?”
“You don’t know who Lieutenant Jeff Dupree is—was—do you?”
Raven shook his head.
“He was awarded a Silver Star for gallantry in Iraq several years ago.”
“What did he do?”
“Called an airstrike on his position to save a dozen Marines,” Nathan said. “I know this because one of the pilots who nearly killed Dupree is a buddy of mine.”
“So he survived the airstrike but then got murdered by a bunch of American assholes back at home. Jesus Christ, that is awful.”
Nathan grabbed the other Colt AR-15 from the back seat. “Don’t worry, we’re going to avenge Lieutenant Dupree, but you’re going to need to pack some heat, brother.”
Raven wasn’t sure what surprised him more—the fact Nathan had called him “brother,” or the fact he’d said, “pack some heat.”
“Whoever ambushed Dupree and his men know what they’re doing. We have to be smart. There’s only two of us,” Nathan added.
“Fine,” Raven said. He focused back on the road while Nathan prepared their weapons and pulled out the Geiger counter.
The road wound through the hills outside of Estes Park. Abandoned vehicles were sporadic here. Most of them had already been pushed off to the side of the road, allowing Raven to gun the Jeep. He punched the gas down, speeding through the winding roads at sixty miles an hour.
They passed the remaining homesteads bordering the town, but there was no sign of people out here. No refugees, no raiders—nothing but open road surrounded by rolling hills dotted with pine trees. They climbed out of the valley, leaving civilization behind for a view of the fires to the southwest. A fortress of smoke drifted over the mountains.
“That looks bad,” Nathan said. “I hope we can get through.”
Raven took in a breath of filtered air and studied the fires in the distance. There was no way to tell exactly how far away they were. In the mountains, it was always hard to gauge distance. What looked like two miles could end up being ten.
They drove in silence, Raven using the time to think. As his Jeep continued the climb, he couldn’t help but feel like he had somehow climbed out of the hole he had dug himself into after leaving the Marines. He had a purpose again, a miss
ion, thanks to Colton. Raven hadn’t realized how much he’d been drowning without that. He still felt the weight of responsibility on his shoulders because of the disastrous raid in North Korea his squad had been part of, but he realized now that there had probably been countless factors leading up to the attack. In a way, the bombs had given him a fresh start—a chance to prove the man he was.
“So, what’s next?” Nathan said. “How do you plan on finding my nephew?”
Raven pulled his thoughts back to the present. “Growing up on the Rez, I was taught two ways to hunt animals and people. The first you already know. You look for tracks, broken vegetation, droppings, or some other sort of trail. You listen for any sounds the chase might make and pay attention to your other senses. The smell of a campfire, for example.”
“And the other way?”
Raven cracked a grin. “You let your chase find you.”
“Sounds like a terrible plan to me.”
“Most of mine seem to be pretty bad at the beginning,” Raven said with a chuckle. “But they have a roundabout way of turning out all right.”
His smile faded when he saw the lumps on the road ahead.
“Look like bodies,” he said, easing off the gas. “Better check for radiation.”
Raven scanned the area as he drove up the steep slope. To the left of the road, a metal barrier separated them from plummeting over the side into the valley below. To the right, ponderosa pines and aspen trees grew out of the sandy brown dirt. Farther up the hill, boulders and trees speckled the terrain.
There were hundreds of places for people to hide. His eyes were working in overdrive, flitting across the canvas for contacts. Anyone out here would be a potential hostile, especially if they were suffering from radiation poisoning—desperate, delusional, and violent.
At the top of the road were two bodies, a male and a female. Both were wearing blue ponchos and blue jeans. He slowed on the approach, one hand on the wheel, the other on the handle of the Glock he had holstered on a strap around his right leg.
The Geiger counter ticked to life, and Nathan held the device up. The crackling told Raven they were entering a red zone.
Trackers Omnibus [Books 1-4] Page 37