Trackers 2: The Hunted (A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller)

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

His heart had been beating calmly, but as soon as he jumped up with his rifle, it slammed against his ribcage. Two men in black fatigues were removing gear from the back of the Jeep. They looked in his direction, and the one on the right shouted the alarm.

  Nathan fired two shots into the first man’s side, sending him staggering away. He trained the barrel on the second man, who was fumbling for a holstered pistol, and dropped him with a shot to the temple.

  Gunfire came from Nathan’s right. Raven’s shots punched through a soldier’s neck, a geyser of blood spraying the windshield of the Jeep. He dropped to his knees and clutched the mortal wound.

  A bearded soldier on the right scrambled for cover on the other side of the road and dove into the ditch. Nathan focused his gun on a thick man with an athletic build to his left who had taken off running. He aimed for a pair of wide, linebacker shoulders and fired a shot that tore through the back of his ribcage.

  The muscular man crashed to the pavement with a thud, limp and dead. Nathan felt a tinge of satisfaction and roved his rifle to find the final target and finish the job. This time he was going to aim to maim and not kill.

  “Eyes up!” Raven shouted.

  In the turret of the Humvee, a sixth man emerged. He grabbed the M240 and aimed it at Nathan.

  Raven dropped to a knee and fired two shots that pinged off the armor shield surrounding the big gun. It barked to life, sending 7.62 mm rounds in Raven’s direction. He rolled out of the way and then jumped into the ditch they had been hiding in.

  The gunner raked the machine gun back and forth, spraying rounds into the pavement. Then he moved the barrel toward Nathan, but Nathan already had his sights on the gunner’s head.

  “Eat this, you Nazi loving prick,” Nathan muttered. His voice didn’t sound like it belonged to him as he squeezed off a shot that hit the man in the center of his black baseball cap, sending his shaved skull jolting backward with such force it broke his neck.

  Bullets peppered the Jeep to Nathan’s left. He ducked down for cover as more rounds slammed the metal. Where the hell was the shooter?

  “No!” Raven shouted. At first Nathan thought he was screaming about his precious Jeep, but then a flash of steel whizzed past Nathan and crunched into someone standing behind him.

  He whirled to see a seventh man collapse to the ground, screaming in pain and holding onto the handle of the hatchet Raven had buried into his breast. Nathan snapped into action, on high alert as he moved to the other side of the Jeep to search for the final soldier, the one that had lunged into the opposite ditch. The man was on the run, already halfway to the island of trees with the tent.

  Raven aimed his rifle, but Nathan held up a hand. “We need him alive. Shoot him in the leg.”

  A crack sounded, and the thin, short man hit the dirt about one hundred yards from the road. Nathan turned back to the guy who had snuck up on him. He squirmed in pain on his back, feet slapping the concrete.

  “Where the hell did you come from?” Nathan muttered. He slung his rifle over his back and kicked the man’s gun away. Then he leaned down next to him, getting right to the point. “Where the fuck are the kids?”

  “Don’t kill me,” the guy pleaded. He looked up, his bearded face contorted in agony. “I didn’t hurt nobody. I swear it.”

  Nathan grabbed the handle of the hatchet. “I asked you a question.”

  Lips trembling, the man still didn’t answer. He closed his eyes and said something under his breath that Nathan couldn’t make out. Might have been a curse or a prayer. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but hunting down the bastards who had kidnapped his nephew and ambushed Lieutenant Dupree and his men.

  “Suit yourself,” Nathan said.

  He twisted the blade a quarter of an inch. The man shrieked in agony. Nathan released his grip on the blade and waited for the skinhead to come back to reality, but his eyelids slowly drooped over his eyes as he slipped toward unconsciousness. A slap to his face pulled him back. He glared at Nathan, eyes burning with rage.

  “Tell me where you took the kids,” Nathan said.

  “Fuck you,” the man replied. He spat in Nathan’s face and let out a hoarse laugh. Maybe he knew he was going to die, or maybe he was just that big of an asshole. Either way, Nathan could tell he wasn’t getting any information from this one. He stood and considered leaving him there to die slowly in pain, but he didn’t want the liability when he turned his back.

  “Join your friends in hell,” Nathan said. He plucked the hatchet from the man’s chest. Blood gushed out of the cavity. He let out a scream as Nathan brought the blade down square in the middle of his forehead. The sickening crack echoed like a gunshot.

  Nathan thought he would feel something like satisfaction, but all he felt was more pain. He wiggled the hatchet free and stood.

  Raven waved from across the road. He was kneeling next to the injured man. Nathan stopped to check the bullet holes in the Jeep. There were two in the hood and several in the windshield. Almost every window had been shattered.

  “Shit,” he said. Nathan walked around the side of the Jeep when he saw his rucksack on the ground next to one of the corpses. The analog radio was right next to the pack. He bent down to examine the radio, cursing again at the sight of the shattered casing and protruding wires.

  Nathan closed his eyes and snapped them back open again. Their one form of communication with the outside world was completely trashed. He stood and ran over to Raven.

  “Radio and the Jeep are fucked,” Nathan said when he got there. He handed the bloody hatchet to Raven, who gave him a cockeyed look, flared his nostrils, and then looked back down at the injured man wriggling on the ground.

  “You fuckers shot my baby,” he said in an incredulous high-pitched voice.

  “I’m sorry,” the man cried. “I was just‌—‌”

  “We’ll take their Humvee,” Nathan said. He studied the man lying at his feet. He was covered in tattoos of hate symbols.

  “Nathan, this racist piece of shit is named Joe,” Raven said, patting the man’s shoulder. Joe grimaced in pain. “Joe here has agreed to take us to meet his racist piece of shit friends at a place called the Castle. In exchange, I’ve promised not to cut his nuts off.”

  General Thor returned with another man Charlize didn’t recognize. They set up laptops on a table in front of her bed.

  “Madame Secretary, this is Colonel Mark Raymond. He will be leading the briefing about your son. I may have to duck out early to deal with the situation off the coast of Palm Beach. We’re still running rescue missions to see if we can pull anyone from the water.”

  Charlize nodded. She understood Thor had other things to worry about with a war going on. A hostage situation was probably low on his priority list.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am,” Raymond said. He was a tall man with a bulbous nose and thick brown hair. “I’ve been unable to reach your brother on the channel you provided. We’re still not sure if he reached out to Lieutenant Marco, either. The comms are a mess.”

  Charlize nodded again. She felt like a robot, but she didn’t want to interrupt.

  Raymond placed his laptop computer on a table in front of her bed. “Normally this briefing would be conducted by the FBI or perhaps the DOJ, but since the country is under martial law, the military is handling the case.”

  He typed a passcode into the computer and then angled it so she could see better. On screen, her sweet baby boy looked up with droopy eyes, his hair a mess. Her heart ached at the sight, but at least she had proof he was still alive. Raymond hit a button, and Ty’s high voice came from the speakers.

  “Mom, it’s me. I miss you. Where are you? Why haven’t you come for me? I’m not hurt, but these men are holding me captive in a place called the Castle and‌—‌”

  The camera panned to a bearded man wearing fatigues. Blue eyes, cold as ice, stared back at her.

  “My name is General Dan Fenix, and I’m the leader of the Sons of Liberty. We’ve taken it upon ourselve
s to restore order in these parts. Our mission is to take back our country from those that would have us enslaved.”

  Charlize ground her teeth as she watched the man fold his hands and smile at the camera.

  “We have your son, Secretary Montgomery, and for the right price, you can have him back. I’ll need ten million in gold bars and a list of weapons to be delivered at a place of my choosing. This is not a negotiation. If you don’t deliver the gold and weapons within twenty-four hours, you’ll be getting your son back significantly more damaged than he is now. And if you fail to comply with my requests…well, let’s just say you won’t be getting him back at all.”

  The feed shut off.

  Charlize fought to keep her voice level as she asked, “Who the hell is General Dan Fenix?”

  Raymond closed the laptop. “That’s a good question. At first we weren’t sure. I searched our databases to look up anyone by that rank and name but came up empty.”

  “The reason for that is simple,” Thor said. “General Fenix was never a general. He was an Army captain who served two tours of duty in Iraq and one in Afghanistan. In 2005, he was dishonorably discharged after evidence surfaced he had ordered several civilians killed.”

  Raymond took over. “There were conflicting reports about those deaths. Some of his men seemed to have covered up what really happened in Iraq, and the others were too afraid to speak up. Fenix returned to Colorado and vanished off the map for several years. He resurfaced in Denver. The Feds were watching him‌—‌apparently he started a group affiliated with the Aryan Brotherhood called the Sons of Liberty. Although they seem to be a different sect with their own beliefs.”

  “The Sons of Liberty are basically white supremacists that hate the government and everyone who isn’t white,” Thor said. “Unlike the traditional skinhead, these guys are way more political. It’s disgusting their name plays homage to the Founding Fathers.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Raymond said. He massaged his jaw nervously. “We believe Fenix has been building his own personal army since he returned home from the war.”

  “The truth is that we don’t know how many men he’s been able to recruit or what kind of weaponry he’s managed to amass,” Thor said gravely.

  “And now they have my son,” Charlize said. “We have to find him.”

  “That’s going to be difficult,” Thor said. “We have no idea where he is, and we’re strained for resources as it is.”

  Charlize breathed deeply through her nose, reminding herself that Thor had never been a father. He didn’t understand how callous his remarks sounded.

  “What about the area where Lieutenant Dupree was ambushed?” she asked.

  “We don’t know if it was Fenix and his men who killed Dupree,” Raymond said.

  “Of course. I’m sure it was a different highly skilled and well-armed paramilitary group in the middle of Colorado that took out those Marines,” Charlize said. Frustration was bringing out her sarcastic streak‌—‌a tendency that Clint had always reminded her to curb. But her right-hand man was dead now, and she would be damned if she sat around talking to these men a moment longer while her son was in danger. Charlize swung her legs over the side of the bed.

  Thor and Raymond stood simultaneously, while Albert offered Charlize his hand.

  “The doctor said you need your rest, Madame Secretary,” Thor said.

  “I rested. Now I’m getting up to speed on this Fenix son of a bitch.” She smoothed out her loose-fitting sweat suit and swept her roughly chopped hair back from her forehead, trying to pretend that she still cut as commanding a figure as she once did on the Senate floor.

  “We can’t give him what he wants, ma’am, and you know that,” Thor said. “Fenix is a terrorist, and the United States‌—‌”

  “Does not negotiate with terrorists,” Charlize said, finishing his sentence. “I know, and I agree.”

  Raymond looked at her quizzically. “Then what do you plan to do?”

  She met his gaze steadily. “I’m going to hunt him down and kill him.”

  Sandra held her breath and pulled back the bandage covering Teddy’s elbow. The flesh was mildly red, and there was no sign of a worsening infection, but that didn’t mean he was out of the woods. The news of the Stanley and the loss of the medical supplies and food had everyone in the hospital on edge. They needed the antibiotics to keep Teddy alive, and aside from what they had on hand at the medical center, they were all out.

  She slowly rewrapped his arm.

  There was a knock on the door to the small isolation room they had moved Teddy into. Doctor Duffy opened the door and gestured for Allie to come inside. She fiddled with the white mask covering her face. Creek trotted up to the doorway wearing a plastic suit Sandra had found for him.

  “Sit,” Sandra instructed.

  The dog obeyed and remained in the open doorway. He looked like an alien, but it was for Teddy’s protection. Any germs could threaten his already weakened immune system.

  “Teddy, I’d like you to meet my daughter Allie and my brother’s dog, Creek,” Sandra said.

  Teddy shined at the sight of his new friends. “Hi, Allie, and hi Creek.”

  Creek sat on his hindlegs in the doorway.

  “He looks funny in that suit,” Teddy said with a chuckle.

  “I know,” Sandra said. “Kind of like an alien doggy.”

  Creek stood and let out an affectionate whine.

  “I wish I could give him a treat,” Teddy said. He twisted to look at Sandra. “Can I later?”

  “Uh, Nurse Spears, can I talk to you?” said Doctor Duffy. He stood behind Creek in the doorway and gestured for Sandra with a hand. She could tell by his tone and frown that he wasn’t happy.

  “Allie, you watch Creek, but make sure he stays sitting right there, okay? I’ll be right back.”

  Her daughter dipped her head and up down. “Okay, mom.”

  Creek tried to follow, but Sandra snapped her fingers and the dog relaxed on the floor. He placed his head on his gloved paws as Allie kneeled next to him and stroked his plastic suit.

  “Watch Teddy and Allie for me, boy,” Sandra said. She knew it broke protocol, but she had taken every precaution possible, and Teddy needed this. Morale was in some ways even more important than the antibiotics keeping him alive.

  Creek let out another low whine as she left the room. He was really missing Raven, and so was Sandra. Not hearing from her brother for almost twenty-four hours had torn at her insides. She knew he could take care of himself, but the roads were getting worse by the hour. Every time she heard a vehicle pull into the parking lot, she would peek out from the emergency room to see if it was Raven.

  She followed Doctor Duffy down the hall, waiting for a lecture, but instead he stopped outside of Martha’s room and bowed his head, sighing. “I need your help, Sandra. As you know, Colton wants to know what happened to Martha, and I can’t get her to talk to me. Can you try?”

  “Sure,” Sandra said.

  She went to open the door, but Duffy put a hand on her wrist. “Do you know what’s happening out there? I mean, is it true? Was the fire at the Stanley intentional?”

  The rumors had circled around the hospital, but Sandra didn’t know what to believe. She had to focus on her job and leave the policing up to Chief Colton.

  “I don’t know,” Sandra said. She opened the door and walked inside the dark room lit only by a solar lamp. She put it on the bedside table and sat down next to Martha.

  “Hi, Dr. Kohler, it’s Nurse Spears.”

  Martha blinked and slowly rolled her head to the side.

  “How are you feeling? Are you thirsty?” Sandra asked.

  Martha licked her dry lips and Sandra helped her take several sips from a straw. Then she used a cloth to wipe Martha’s forehead dry.

  “I’m here to talk to you about what you said earlier. About the kids.”

  Martha swallowed the last of the water in her mouth and looked at the ceiling,
closing her eyes, and then snapping them open.

  “The soldiers...” Her voice cracked and she tried to speak again. “The soldiers took the kids.”

  “What soldiers?”

  Martha bowed her head, then looked back up to meet Sandra’s eyes. “They weren’t American soldiers. One of them had a Swastika tattoo.”

  Sandra nearly dropped the cloth in her hand. She had walked into the room with a dozen questions running through her mind, but now she just had one. Could these be the same men who took the supplies and set fire to the Stanley, and the same people who took Nathan’s nephew?

  “I found two kids on the road. I was going to take them to Denver with me, but I failed them...” Martha said. “I failed‌—‌”

  “No, you did not. You did what you could.” Sandra dabbed Martha’s forehead with the moist cloth. “You don’t have to tell me anything that’s too scary to remember. I’m just trying to figure out if these were the same men my brother and my friend Nathan went to look for. Nathan’s nephew was taken from the Easterseals camp south of here.”

  Martha brushed the cloth away from her forehead. “I saw a boy in the back of that pickup in a wheelchair.”

  Sandra hesitated. “A wheelchair?”

  “Yes,” Martha said. She rested her head back on the pillow, but kept her eyes on Sandra.

  “I hope your brother and this Nathan are skilled soldiers because the men that shot me won’t hesitate to kill them or anyone who gets in their way. They had evil in their eyes, Nurse Spears.”

  COLTON PACED BACK and forth, trying to get a grip on the situation. Mayor Andrews, Tom Feagen, and a handful of other administrators were standing in the hallway outside the town offices. Everyone was arguing.

  If Jake were here, he would have shouted in his booming voice, silencing them in a heartbeat. But Jake wasn’t here, and Colton was on his own.

  “Quiet!” shouted a woman. Lindsey was pushing through the crowd. “Let the Chief speak,” she said.

  The side conversations quieted down.

  Colton nodded at Margaret. Despite her earlier insistence that she was fine, the dispatcher was shaking. He hated asking her to go through it again, but he wanted the mayor and her staff to hear it firsthand. She told them what she’d told Colton earlier‌—‌a dozen men in black ski masks had stormed the station, pointed a gun in her face, and demanded the keys to Theo’s cell.