The bitter cold slowed Colton and Sandra down. She was wearing a coat, gloves, and stocking cap, but didn’t have proper gear on to be out here for an extended period of time. Colton wasn’t faring much better, if he was honest.
Fifteen more minutes into the hike, Colton saw the glow of a fire. It was faint, nothing more than a dot of orange in the woods. Sandra saw it, too, and she gasped.
“Is that him?” she asked.
A bark sounded, as if in reply.
“Let’s go!” Colton said.
Sandra followed him through the woods toward the light. Dale was already there, hunched down to rebuild the fire. Lying curled in a fetal position near his feet was Raven. Creek nudged him with his muzzle, but Raven wasn’t moving.
“Raven!” Sandra shouted, running over with her medical pack.
Colton slowed on the approach, raking his light over what looked like a gruesome scene. Crimson crisscrossed the ground in splatter marks. He focused his beam on the source of the blood.
Not a Coyote after all.
A mountain lion was sprawled in the snow, an arrow sticking out of its back.
***
Raven heard distant voices, but he couldn’t make them out. He was cold. Freezing. But he was also paralyzed, unable to control his body.
He looked ahead at the two Nunnehi warriors. They were still tracking the eight-point buck. They stalked the beast through the woods, the sun shining on their half-naked bodies.
It was a dream, Raven realized, but he couldn’t seem to wake up.
He followed the two warriors, Snake and Badger, as they moved silently through the forest. A spring breeze rustled the trees around them. Despite the warm weather, his body felt cold, like he was in a snowstorm.
His eyes flitted to the dirt ahead, where he saw deer tracks.
They were fresh.
Snake and Badger both stopped near a clearing ahead. They turned and raised their hands at him, signaling for him to continue.
Raven pulled an arrow from the quiver slung over his back. A meadow of purple and blue wild flowers waited just beyond the warriors. Mountains with snow-painted peaks rose above the majestic land. The soft trickle of a stream sounded over the rustle of the afternoon wind.
Keeping low, Raven walked around the trunk of a ponderosa tree rising toward the sky. He then climbed a small hill, which provided a lookout over the meadow and the creek meandering through the middle.
Standing near the water’s edge was the eight-point buck. It lifted its rack of antlers, ears perked.
Raven froze behind the two Nunnehi warriors and held a breath in his chest. Why did his breath feel cold?
This wasn’t like most of his dreams. It almost felt real.
The deer went back to drinking from the stream, and Raven made his way up to Snake and Badger. The men simply nodded at him, and although they didn’t speak out loud, he could hear their thoughts.
This is your spirit to take, Raven. Do it honorably and swiftly.
Raven took a moment to admire the beautiful creature, recalling the Cherokee story of how deer got their horns. Long ago, it was said, deer did not have antlers. A messenger started a game between a rabbit and a deer to see who could go farther in a race. The deer could run faster, but the rabbit was a better jumper, so they were evenly matched. The winner would get antlers. The rabbit, however, did not play by the rules during this race, and was caught cheating. Thus, the horns went to the deer.
Raven had never seen a beast with such a beautiful rack of antlers. He placed the arrow shaft on the rest of his bow. Then he attached the knock to the string. Making sure his shoulders were perpendicular with the beast, he pulled the string back, closed one eye, and aimed the arrowhead at the buck’s heart. After a short mental prayer for a speedy kill, he let the arrow fly.
The animal’s ears flicked, and it focused dark eyes on Raven just as the arrow hit its chest. His aim was true, and the arrow struck it in the heart, killing the buck instantly. The creature collapsed on the ground, kicking once with a muscle spasm.
Snake and Badger were on the move before the deer went limp. Raven followed them out into meadow, where the sun hit his skin. But even the radiant glow couldn’t take away the freezing chill that seemed to be gripping his bones.
He got down on his knees next to the dead deer, praying again for the gods’ forgiveness. The two Nunnehi warriors looked over at him, and he grabbed the bone handle of his sheathed buck knife. He’d use the blade to carve the deer and cut out the tongue to throw into a fire for sacrifice. The Cherokee used all parts of the deer but the sinews and hamstrings, which were left in respect for the spirit.
Raven got right to work, expertly skinning the deer, while Snake and Badger stood to watch. The sun slipped behind the clouds over their shoulders, and darkness suddenly spread over the land. The purple and blue flowers vanished, and a snowy wasteland took their place. When Raven looked back at the deer, it was nothing but bones.
The Nunnehi warriors both dipped their chiseled jaws.
“The hunt is over,” Snake said.
Badger pointed to the east. “You must go now, Raven. An enemy is coming. Only you can stop this evil.”
Raven blinked, and the world changed again. In a split second, the warriors disappeared, along with the bones, but the wintery landscape remained. The moon was high in the night sky, and there was a small fire near his body. The wood was burning, but he could hardly feel any warmth. In fact, he could hardly feel anything at all.
Someone was hovering over him, but his vision was too blurred to make out the face. He saw other shapes, and then felt something furry against his cheek.
He snapped alert as he abruptly remembered his fight with the mountain lion. The beast was a few feet away, yellow eyes open and staring at him.
Raven let out a gasp of icy air and reached up, grabbing the arm of the person hovering over him.
“Raven, it’s me. It’s Sandra,” said a voice.
Dale and Colton were there too, both of them looking at Raven with wide eyes.
“He killed a damn mountain lion,” Dale said, laughing.
“Raven,” Sandra said, snapping her fingers in front of his face to draw his attention.
He focused on her and smiled. “Hey, sis.”
She batted a tear away and snorted. “This is the last time I’m coming after you, Sam Spears.”
***
Charlize and Colonel Raymond walked along the edge of Central Park with their Green Beret escorts. Aside from the military company, this moment reminded her of the time she had strolled through the gardens with her husband. It seemed like just yesterday that Richard and Charlize had spent the better part of a Sunday walking through the park and eating at a local seafood and chip restaurant. Those had been happy times, and Charlize wished she’d appreciated them more in the moment.
But today she wasn’t here for leisure. She was here to check out the final location on the list President Diego had given her of potential places for the White House, and to meet with the Chinese delegation one last time.
“There it is,” Raymond said, pointing at the building situated on the corner of Fifth Avenue. Crews had restored power here just days earlier, and most of the windows of the Plaza Hotel were lit up.
Charlize took a moment to appreciate the architecture, which imitated a medieval French château. Hundreds of windows with gold trim provided guests with a panoramic view of Central Park. A green arched roof crested the white building.
“It’s big, but that could be a good thing,” Charlize said. “We need to house all the branches of government that were lost in D.C., so if we are able to contract with the current owners, we could use this as our central hub during the recovery efforts.”
“Let’s take a look inside,” Raymond said.
The street had been completely cleared of stranded vehicles and snow, and they crossed easily. Several NYPD officers mounted on horses patrolled the area. The sidewalks weren’t as busy as they would h
ave been two months ago, but there were still pedestrians. They weren’t tourists, though. These people were all on a mission.
Charlize was impressed by the grandeur of the hotel. It would make a beautiful place for the seat of the federal government, but strategically, it would be difficult to defend.
A representative of the Chinese delegation waited in the lobby, which was decorated with ornamented pillars and archways, a marble floor, and gold fixtures. Charlize followed her escorts down a hallway and took the elevator to the tenth floor, where they were led to a meeting room.
Inside sat General Lin and two staffers, an older man with gray hair and glasses, and a woman around Charlize’s age. She remembered them from the United Nations building.
“Good to see you again, Secretary Montgomery,” Lin said, rising to his feet. You’ve already met Wan Shi and Liu Yaping.”
“Yes,” Charlize said. “Nice to see you.”
Wan and Liu both bowed, and Lin gestured for Charlize to take a seat. She and Raymond took up positions across from General Lin.
“I’m connecting us to Constellation,” Liu said. She swiveled a laptop screen so everyone in the room could see it. Between the working lights and the internet connection, for a fleeting moment it almost seemed like things were back to normal. President Diego’s face emerged on the monitor a moment later, reminding her things were far from normal.
“Good afternoon,” he said.
“Good afternoon, Mr. President,” Lin said.
“How are you liking the Plaza Hotel?” Diego asked.
“It is a beautiful building,” Lin said.
“Not my favorite on your list, sir, for strategic reasons,” Charlize said.
“I’m looking forward to talking more when you get back,” Diego said. “In the meantime, we have a few other items to discuss. Water supply has become the biggest problem in the survival centers.”
That got her attention. Charlize had expected the meeting to start with the attack in Charlotte, where Albert and Captain Harris were currently monitoring a mission to re-take the city.
“Bringing the water treatment centers back online has been one of our main priorities since we landed,” Lin said.
“Doctor Price is spearheading the effort, but we’re going to need your help, General,” Diego said.
“Liu will connect with Doctor Price as soon as possible,” Lin said. “We are painfully aware of how important—”
A raucous boom cut the general off before he could finish. The entire room shook, and a piece of gold trim fell to the floor. For a moment, everyone just sat there, rattled and confused.
“Was that an explosion?” Diego asked.
“One moment, sir,” Raymond said.
A fire alarm rang out, and then a second boom snapped Charlize into action. The noise was definitely an explosion.
Both of the doors swung open, and Sergeant Fugate entered. “Everyone stay calm, but we need to move.”
Two of the Chinese soldiers posted in the hallway moved over to General Lin, speaking in Mandarin. The two groups left together for the hallway and were led to a stairwell opposite to the one where they had come in.
“What the hell is going on?” Raymond asked.
“The building is under attack,” Fugate said. He stopped and held up his radio as it squawked.
“Multiple contacts,” said the voice on the channel. “Shooters on the west and east sides of the building.” There was a pause, with more white noise. Then the speaker came back and said, “Hunker down until we can figure out the safest way to get you out of there.”
Faint but rapid gunfire sounded in the distance. This was a multi-stage attack, Charlize realized. First bombs, now shooters. But who would mount such a brazen attack on a relatively secure building?
“This way,” Fugate said. He hurried down the hall, rifle shouldered, while the other Green Berets held rear guard. The two Chinese soldiers flanking the officials followed close behind.
The group moved into a stairwell and was instructed to stay put. Fugate pulled out his radio again to listen to the chatter. One of the Chinese soldiers was doing the same thing. The clash of languages made it incredibly difficult to hear anything. From what Charlize could make out, the attack had started when vehicles broke through a barrier a block away.
The gunfire continued below, echoing up the stairwell, getting closer by the minute. General Lin stood next to Charlize. If the man was frightened, he sure didn’t show it. He had his fingers wrapped around a pistol. Both of his soldiers were iron-faced, emotionless. Even Liu and Wan appeared undeterred by the violence.
Fugate lowered the radio and jerked his chin up the stairwell. “We’re headed to the roof. It’s the only way out of here. The building is being overrun.”
He looked to Staff Sergeant Thoreau, the kid with peach fuzz on his face, who stood below Charlize.
“Thoreau, you and Sammie cover our escape,” Fugate said.
Thoreau nodded at Fugate, and then at Charlize, before moving back down the stairs with the other soldier.
“Good luck,” Charlize whispered.
“Let’s go,” Fugate said.
The climb to the rooftop took five minutes. Fugate opened the roof access door, and then moved out with two of his men to clear the area. He returned a moment later and ushered everyone outside.
The cracks and pops coming from the street below told her the fight was far from over. The sound of a chopper rose over the din of gunfire. To the west, a Black Hawk was coming in fast.
“Come on!” Fugate shouted. He waved them over to the center of the roof. The pilots would have to hover, since there was no place to put down here.
Fugate and his men all raised their rifles and pointed them at the open doorway while Raymond, General Lin, and his staff moved over to where the pilots were lowering the chopper.
Charlize paused to listen. It sounded as if a battle was being waged inside the stairwell where Thoreau and Sammie had remained. The rotor drafts hit her, whipping her jacket violently. The pilots got as close to the roof as possible, and then the crew chief reached down to help Charlize into the bird. General Lin went next, with Liu and Wan following.
The two Chinese soldiers remained below with the Green Berets, all of them still pointing their weapons at the doorway. It swung open just as Colonel Raymond climbed into the troop hold, and an American soldier stumbled onto the roof, blood soaking his right arm and parts of his neck. It was Sammie, Charlize realized. So where was Thoreau?
The young man yelled something at Fugate before crashing to the ground. The leader of the Green Berets turned and waved the pilots off before turning back to help Sammie and drag him away.
The bird pulled away from the roof, ascending quickly. Charlize watched as the Green Berets and Chinese soldiers took up defensive positions with their rifles aimed at the closed door. The pilots banked to the west, providing a view of the chaos below.
The warped black hull of a vehicle burned in front of the destroyed lobby. The once-white façade had caved in. A black field of debris surrounded the outside of the building, and on the rim of the destruction were dozens of bodies. Most of them seemed to be wearing blue and green uniforms.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” Raymond asked.
Charlize managed to nod, but she was still breathing heavily. She tried to catch her breath as the chopper pulled away, leaving the terror behind. Charlize caught a glimpse of the One World Trade Center as the pilots flew to safety. With the Plaza Hotel in ruins, it would most likely become the new site of the White House.
But she wasn’t so sure New York was the best choice for the seat of government after all. Whoever had attacked the Plaza had done so in a coordinated and brutal way. Nowhere was safe anymore.
— 15 —
Fenix took a sip of whiskey. The liquid both warmed and cooled his throat.
“Damn, that’s good sauce,” he said.
Sergeant Horton raised his glass. “To the general!”
“To the general!” shouted a dozen men.
The twelve Brandenburger Commandos brought their glasses together, the clank echoing through the concrete bunker. The soldiers downed their glasses and then began filing out of the armory, where they were celebrating their newest addition—a dozen crates of weapons, explosives, and fully automatic weapons.
Fenix continued to admire the stacked boxes around him. Every bullet would help him accomplish his goal of taking Colorado back from the bureaucrats and the Chinese invaders.
He downed the rest of his glass and wiped his lips with a sleeve as the footfalls of the men who would help him succeed in this mission faded down the hallway. They were headed back to the central gathering, where a game of poker and more liquor awaited.
Horton, however, remained behind. He flashed a sly grin at Fenix and patted one of the crates.
“We’re almost ready to fight our crusade against the insurgents,” Horton said. “Just a few more raids like the one today, and we’ll have everything we need.”
Fenix found his lips cracking into a smile as well. The thought of the coming fight gave him chills, and the whiskey warming his stomach only helped intensify the feeling.
“We’re going to take our country back,” Fenix said.
“Damn straight, sir.” Horton’s smile widened, revealing perfectly white teeth.
Fenix wasn’t used to seeing the hardened war hero showing so much emotion. Most of the time, it was difficult to get him to laugh at a joke.
“I couldn’t have done any of this without you, Sarge.”
It wasn’t often he gave praise, but this time it was well deserved. Over the past three weeks, the Brandenburger Commandos had freed Fenix from captivity, taken out Nile Redford and stolen his supplies, and successfully hit three Chinese convoys. On top of that, they had doubled the Sons of Liberty numbers and opened up three new bases in Colorado.
They were now at their new headquarters at Titan Missile Silo, the abandoned Cold War facility Sergeant Horton had taken over just days after the North Korean attack. It was located east of Denver, about an hour drive from the Rocky Mountains.
Trackers Omnibus [Books 1-4] Page 92