Apocalypse Unleashed (Left Behind: Apocalypse Dawn 4)

by Mel Odom

  Icarus shook his head.

  Goose rummaged in his medical pack. “I got some stuff in here that should dull it.” He took pain pills from the kit and passed them to Icarus. Goose took a couple himself to ease the throbbing in his knee. He also followed up with some anti-inflammatories to help with the swelling. His knee already felt incredibly tight.

  He broke an ammonia capsule beneath Miller’s nose and got him up.

  Local Time 0839 Hours

  Goose chose a course that would keep them within the trees. To the right, out in the massive open area, the Syrian armor rumbled past. As he limped through the trees, Goose watched the tanks, APCs, and field artillery roll along amid dust clouds. He felt guilty that he wasn’t going to be at Sanliurfa when the Rangers there needed him most.

  “Goose,” Miller said, looking anguished, “it’s my fault we’re down here. I should have been holding on better. If I had been, maybe I wouldn’t have knocked us all off the helicopter.”

  “If the guy who fired the rocket launcher at us had shot a little straighter,” Goose said, “none of us would be here right now. You can’t fault yourself, sir. This thing—it just turned out the way it did. Can’t go back and change it now. Our job at this point is to get back to our unit as soon as we can and hope they’re still holding their own.”

  Miller nodded and kept trudging along.

  None of them could forget the men who combed the forest behind them.

  Local Time 1017 Hours

  Goose called for a breather while they were on the side of a hill. They took cover between rocks and a copse of trees. Overhead, the sky had turned dark with the threat of a sudden storm. The wind had picked up, and the air had cooled slightly. Goose hoped the rain came soon and that it wasn’t just a false promise as it sometimes was in Turkey. If it rained, it might slow the Syrian assault on Sanliurfa.

  “Hydrate or die,” Goose said and drank from the tube to his LCE. “Don’t try to conserve water. Drink your fill. As hard as we’re pushing ourselves, we’ve got to keep fluid in our systems. Isn’t going to do anyone any good to drop halfway there while holding on to a full canteen.”

  Miller sat wearily on a rock, breathing hard. Even the constant physical conditioning the army required clearly hadn’t prepared him for the long march through rough country. He made himself drink.

  “The chaplain is struggling to keep up,” Icarus said softly.

  “I know that,” Goose said.

  “Allen and his men are gaining on us.”

  “I know that, too.”

  “Given our present rate of travel, they’ll catch us within the next hour.”

  Goose nodded. “I’m going to have to do something about that.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to whittle the odds down a little.” Goose stared through the binoculars he carried. The forest was thick, but every now and again he caught a glimpse of one of the men who pursued them so relentlessly. “How are you holding up?”

  “I can make the walk,” Icarus said. “I’ve had to do worse things.”

  “Then why don’t you take the chaplain further on.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Stay a little while. Set up a few surprises for those killers.”

  Icarus was silent a moment. “Don’t underestimate those men, Goose. They’re very dangerous, and they won’t hesitate a moment to kill you.”

  “Then neither will I,” Goose replied. “You two best get started. I’ll catch up to you when I can.”

  “Even with that bad knee?”

  Goose grinned with false confidence. “I don’t know what you’re seeing, buddy, but I’m genuine GI. A hard road just separates the men from the boys. I’ll be with you soon enough.”

  Icarus offered his good hand. “I hope so, Sergeant. Truly I do. Your men need you. Otherwise, they’ll be lost.”

  Goose wanted to ask about that cryptic statement, but he didn’t. There wasn’t time. And he couldn’t allow any other thoughts inside his mind other than how he was going to deal with their pursuers.

  As he watched Miller and Icarus get underway again, Goose divested himself of insecurities and pain. He donned the mental armor of the hunter. At this point, there could be no mercy.

  Local Time 1023 Hours

  “I’m getting tired of all these trees and brush,” Heinrich complained. He pushed and shoved his way through the dense foliage.

  “That is because you are out of shape,” Kosheib said. “You have become lazy from all the easy work you have been getting lately. Killing someone in their bed or out in front of a restaurant is not the same as stalking them through the bush.” The Sudanese strode through the forest like a big cat.

  “Yeah, well I for one am glad to work in the civilized world. It’s easier to pop someone who’s following a routine in the city than to try to flush them out of the brush.”

  Allen ignored the men’s banter. Kosheib and Heinrich usually griped to and about each other. Trying to get them to stop only exacerbated the problem. Allen stayed locked on Weaver, who was walking point at the moment.

  The sat-phone vibrated in Allen’s pocket. He didn’t look at caller ID to see who it was. He already knew. Alexander Cody had called twice so far to find out if they’d caught up with Icarus.

  Allen was actually impressed the three men they pursued had covered as much ground as they had. Their prey had tried to be coy about their flight on a few occasions, changing directions and trying to conceal their trail. In the end, all they’d done was lose time. Allen, Owens, Weaver, and Kosheib were all trained trackers.

  A few minutes later, Weaver signaled a stop, then waved Allen forward.

  “What do you think he’s found?” Owens asked.

  Allen didn’t look at Owens but kept his eyes constantly moving, glancing around using the periphery of his vision to track movement. “Only one way to find out. Kosheib, you’re with me.”

  The big man stepped up beside Allen and moved soundlessly through the brush.

  “They’ve split up.” Weaver pointed at the footprints that showed on the ground.

  Allen knelt and studied the tracks. Two sets of prints showed in the soft earth. He looked back the way they’d come and spotted the ridge of stone showing above the earth.

  “They hid their footprints for as long as they could,” Kosheib said.

  “You think they had a falling-out?” Weaver asked.

  “No.” Allen glared along the stone ridge. “They knew we were following them.”

  “They could have split up to take their chances.”

  Allen shook his head. He stayed low and surveyed the surrounding terrain.

  Kosheib hunkered down beside him. “I am thinking this could be good spot for ambush.”

  “Me too.” Allen placed his assault rifle across his knees and tried to tell himself he wasn’t vulnerable.

  A flicker of movement disrupted the trees over the heads of Owens, Purvis, and McElroy as they stood and talked. Allen recognized the spherical shape immediately, but he still had to try to warn his men.

  “Grenade!”

  Owens ran and threw himself to one side without a wasted second. Purvis and McElroy looked at Allen, awaiting further orders. There wasn’t time for any more.

  The antipersonnel grenade blew up and slung their bodies backward. Allen had no illusions about either man still being among the living.

  The split had just dropped to five.

  Quietly Allen waved Kosheib to the other side of the stone ridge. The mercenary leader took his weapon and duckwalked through the brush, circling around to where he thought the grenade had come from. Whoever had stayed back was about to regret being born.

  That would be only for a short while, though. Allen intended to put the man out of his misery quickly. He only hoped it was their prey.

  32

  Downtown Sanliurfa

  Sanliurfa Province, Turkey

  Local Time 1036 Hours

  “Staring at t
he screen isn’t going to make that program go any faster.”

  Danielle glanced at Pete Farrier, the audio-visual tech assigned to the OneWorld NewsNet team. He was gangly and looked young despite being in his early thirties. His dark hair was cut short enough to let him pass as one of the soldiers in the Ranger unit. He wore khaki shorts and a T-shirt advertising a video game popular five years earlier.

  “I know,” Danielle admitted.

  They sat at a table in the foyer of a small hotel. The old building had weathered the test of time and had survived the Syrian assaults over the last few weeks. The decor was Old World with Moorish influence in high arches over the doorways. The electrical lighting barely held its own against the darkness lurking by the covered windows. Original paintings adorned the walls.

  A dozen men and women sat around the tables. Small children, sharing the tension felt by their parents, hunkered under the tables. None of them looked confident to be there.

  No, Danielle silently amended, none of them look safe. They all looked pensive and ill at ease. Every time an explosion or a long string of gunfire sounded, they flinched.

  On the notebook computer screen in front of Danielle, an image constantly pixilated. She’d taken a still from the video her cameraman had shot aboard the helicopter before Goose and two others had plunged from the cargo door. Danielle had recognized one of those other men as Icarus, the mysterious rogue agent CIA Section Chief Cody was hunting. There was no way that Icarus being on board the helicopter that had been shot at could be coincidence.

  “You could rest,” Pete suggested.

  Danielle looked at him and shook her head. “In the middle of a war?”

  “Hey,” Pete said, “over the last few weeks I’ve discovered that I can sleep anywhere, anytime. You’re tired enough. How about you get horizontal for about five minutes and see what happens.”

  Danielle shook her head. “I can’t.”

  “You ask me, you’re foolish not to.” Pete sipped a little of the dark, sweet Turkish coffee at his elbow. “When this image gets cleaned up—although I’m still not certain that it will—I’ll wake you.”

  Jets screamed by overhead, followed almost instantly by a string of explosions. The heavy bellow of antiaircraft guns chattered through it all. The ease with which she identified the military hardware and weapons surprised Danielle.

  It’s because you’re in survival mode, she told herself.

  Many of the adults joined the children under the tables. A little girl started crying. Her mother gathered her into her arms and tried to shush her.

  “I feel too guilty to sleep,” Danielle said.

  “Why?”

  She shook her head, trying to keep a lock on her emotions.

  “Because Sergeant Gander was knocked out of the helicopter and you weren’t?”

  “Maybe. I keep thinking that I was standing right there, that I could have just reached out and grabbed hold of him.”

  “And maybe gotten pulled out yourself.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I don’t see how any good would have come from that.”

  “At least Goose would know he has someone on his side.” Danielle clung to the thought that Goose was alive. Some of the Rangers she’d talked to after the helicopters reached Sanliurfa had assured her Goose had the training to survive a fall like that. In her mind, she pictured Goose holed up somewhere awaiting rescue. She knew that wasn’t the case, though. If Goose Gander was able to walk—or drag himself—he’d be on his way to the city. To his unit.

  “No,” Pete disagreed calmly. “If you’d fallen and survived, he’d have one more person to look after.”

  Danielle frowned at him.

  “Hey.” Pete spread his hands and smiled. “You’re not exactly Survivorman out there.”

  Danielle took a deep breath and let it out.

  “You don’t even know if Goose is still alive,” Pete said quietly.

  “I know. But somehow I can tell he is.”

  “How?” Pete studied her.

  She shook her head, trying to figure out how to put into words what she knew instinctively. The problem was, it didn’t make sense even to her. “I just … I just know.”

  “Spider senses?”

  “No.”

  “I haven’t seen a crystal ball.”

  “No crystal ball.”

  Pete smiled. “Are you crushing on the sergeant?”

  Feeling guilty, Danielle started to say no, but Pete’s arched brows told her he already knew her answer before she said a word.

  “Maybe a little,” she replied.

  “He’s married.”

  Danielle nodded. “Very married. He talks about Megan all the time. Doesn’t stop me from wishing I’d meet someone just like him. Or that he had a brother.”

  “I suppose not.” Pete took a breath. “You’re not the only one. Me? I look at him, watch him, I wish I had a friend just like him. He’s just that guy, you know? That guy who, no matter how tough things get, will never let you down.”

  “That’s why the viewers love Goose. He’s got that solidness about him. Honor.”

  “Makes you wonder,” Pete said, “if all those religious people are right and all of us who have been left behind are locked into some kind of Tribulation, what is Goose doing here?”

  “I did an interview with Corporal Baker right after we got to Sanliurfa,” Danielle said. “None of the television stations were interested in airing it. Corporal Baker said that some of the people were left behind because they were guilty of sin and had fallen away from God. But the majority were left behind because they weren’t true believers—they hadn’t brought God into their hearts and accepted salvation through Jesus.”

  Pete studied the computer screen. “You put any stock into that?”

  Danielle thought about her answer. She didn’t like talking about things like this, and she felt increasingly uneasy doing so. “I’m not sure. More so than before.”

  “What about Goose?”

  “He’s focused on getting through this war and keeping as many of his men intact as he can.”

  “So he’s not a big believer either?”

  “Not that I can see.”

  Pete shook his head. “I wish I knew what to believe.”

  “I know. Baker told me that even with everything going on around us, a lot of people still aren’t going to believe this is the Tribulation. They’re going to deny it and look for other reasons for what happened.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Baker also pointed out that faith is based on what you believe in, not what you know. If we knew the answers, we still wouldn’t have faith.”

  “Sounds like you’ve been thinking about it.”

  Danielle wanted to deny that immediately because that was how she’d always handled discussions about religion. Like the topic was beneath her. Especially since there was no clear-cut answer in her mind. She started to deny it again, then stopped. “Maybe I have been thinking about it,” she agreed. “But I still don’t have any of the answers I need.”

  At that moment, the computer screen blinked, and the image came into clearer focus. Danielle leaned forward and studied the men in the vehicles below the helicopter. The image came from the footage shot just before Goose and the others had tumbled from the chopper. The focus was almost there.

  “I got to admit,” Pete said, “this software package your friend put together is impressive. He could probably sell it to motion picture studios out in Hollywood.”

  The software was designed to clean up images. According to Mystic, the computer hacker Danielle had struck up a relationship with a few years ago while pursuing a story, the program filled in missing details based on references gleaned from the rest of the image as well as a large data bank.

  “I don’t know that much about software,” Danielle admitted.

  “Well, take it from me—what this guy is doing is computer magic. Not impossible, and other people have probably got similar software,
but I’d hate to have to pay for it.”

  Another SCUD hit nearby and caused the building to shake. Ceiling tiles smashed against the floor. This time the ceiling fan that had threatened to tear loose since the beginning of the attack crashed to the floor. Jagged glass shrapnel flew in all directions.

  33

  Outside Harran

  Sanliurfa Province, Turkey

  Local Time 1036 Hours

  Goose held his position next to a thick-boled tree and took deliberate aim. The M-4A1’s open sights bracketed the head of the mercenary standing where the big white man and the black man had stood only moments ago. Letting out half a breath, Goose squeezed the trigger once and trusted his sharpshooting skills.

  The man fell backward with a bullet hole high in his forehead.

  Three down, Goose thought grimly.

  As the sound of the shot echoed through the forest, the first raindrops zipped through the leafy branches of the tall trees and spattered against the backs of Goose’s hands and neck.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance and reminded him of the Syrian armor rolling against Sanliurfa. He forced that out of his mind. The Rangers would hold there. The rain would come in time. Things would be fine until he got back. He had to believe that.

  With his back to the tree, hidden within the undergrowth, Goose listened. The thunder made it harder to hear, and the pattering of the rain confused things as well.

  Then there was no mistaking the cautious sound of a man’s feet sliding through the brush. The whisk-whisk-whisk of leaves against the man’s pants grew closer.

  The man stopped. Goose knew he was only a few feet away, just out of Goose’s peripheral vision. If Goose turned his head to see the man, he was certain the motion would be seen. He breathed shallowly and waited.

  Quietly the man shifted his feet. Goose knew then that he wasn’t a trained soldier or a hunter. Nervousness chafed at the man. Silence and forced stillness were his enemies instead of bringing him security and peace.