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

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “Keep moving,” he said.

  Inside the cave lives a woman, Raven thought, repeating the story in his mind as he drove. She’s been there for thousands of years working on a blanket strip of her buffalo robe. Beside her sits Shunka Sapa, a massive black dog.

  “I think I figured out who Shunka Sapa is,” Raven finally said.

  “What?” Nathan looked over. “Oh, from the Cherokee story?”

  “The Sioux story. Big difference, Major.”

  Nathan plucked the map off the dashboard. “General Fenix is our Shunka Sapa, right?”

  Raven nodded. “Yeah, I think so.”

  “According to Joe, we’re almost there. Let’s put that black dog down.”

  “Recon first, Major,” Raven said. “I don’t trust a thing this punk says.”

  Nathan agreed with a nod. “I’m going to try the radio one more time.” He ran through the channels while Raven checked his gear.

  Crossbow and hatchet? Check. Glock? Check. MK11? Check. Hand grenades? Check. They had plenty of ammunition and weapons for the hunt. He caught himself. This wasn’t a hunt‌—‌this was a battle.

  Nathan cursed and tossed the radio aside. “Still nothing. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

  Raven didn’t know what to say, so he merely put the Humvee in gear and rolled on. They were coming up on the man on the tree. His shaved head was bowed, his chin tucked against his naked chest. His hands and feet were nailed into the bark. It was hard to tell how long he had been strung up, but his flesh was already decomposing.

  He gunned the engine and sped down the road that cut through the meadow. A fence of foothills lined with pine trees provided a natural barrier at the end of the valley. The road twisted up into the mountains beyond.

  “You see the turn-off?” Raven asked.

  Nathan was already scoping the jagged cliffs that towered over the road. There were plenty of perches for a sniper, but they hoped the Humvee and the radio would allow them to sneak behind enemy lines.

  Still, Raven didn’t like it. This was starting to bring back memories of the raid in North Korea eighteen months ago. Even for a trained soldier, heading into enemy territory never got any easier. Without intel, and with only a two-man team who were both injured and exhausted, it was going to be almost impossible.

  Letting out a discreet sigh, Raven focused on the plan. Recon and scouting came first. They would also try one last time to reach Nathan’s sister or someone else who could call in support. If that failed again, they would do a risk assessment.

  On the right side of the road was a lake with a mirrored surface, and to the left, a lush forest of pines. Raven slowed on the approach, looking for the entrance to the frontage road that would take them to the so-called Castle. Instead of the path, he saw another body strung up on the base of a ponderosa pine on the left side of the road.

  “Christ,” Nathan said. “More of them?”

  He was looking to the right side of the road. Raven turned to see another corpse crucified to a tree there. He stopped the Humvee in the middle of the shadowed road, engine humming.

  These bodies weren’t Sons of Liberty soldiers. The dead people‌—‌a man on the left side and a woman on the right‌—‌appeared to be in their mid-twenties and were dressed in civilian clothing. They looked like campers.

  Nathan pointed at a National Park Service sign about a quarter mile down the road. “That’s the turn-off.”

  “And this is a warning,” Raven said, nodding at the dead.

  It reminded him of what the Apaches did to their prisoners‌—‌and the stories of what the American Army did to the American Indians. Both sides had butchered each other, scalping, slaughtering, and stringing up the dead.

  But this wasn’t the fucking Oregon Trail. This was the twenty-first century. This type of brutality wasn’t supposed to exist in the American West anymore. The Aryan Brotherhood displayed a level of brutality Raven had never seen in his lifetime.

  “Stay frosty,” he said to himself.

  Nathan kept his rifle shouldered, looking for targets as Raven pulled down the frontage road and entered a tunnel of trees. The canopy overhead nearly blocked out the mountain peaks in the distance. Darkness shrouded them as they drove slowly down the road. There wasn’t a single sound of nature inside the forest. No chirping birds or bugs‌—‌no sign of deer or rabbits.

  “This place gives me the creeps,” Nathan said.

  “I hear that, brother,” Raven agreed.

  The dirt road snaked through the forest and began to rise over another hill. As they neared the top, Nathan suddenly lowered his rifle and said, “Back, back, back!”

  Raven saw the stone lookout tower at the same time. He could only see the top of the structure, but it was enough to send him peeling back in reverse.

  “Joe wasn’t kidding. They’ve got a castle,” Nathan said. “Pull off behind those trees.”

  Raven steered the Humvee off the road and parked beneath the trees. It wasn’t full cover, but they would camouflage the truck. They both got out, and Raven hefted the MK11 they had found in the vehicle over his shoulder. He had trained to use the semi-automatic sniper rifle back in the Marines. It was equipped with a swivel-based bipod, sound suppressor, mil-dot riflescope, and back-up iron sights. He could pin a tail on a donkey with the gun at fifteen hundred yards.

  “Joe’s unconscious,” Nathan said.

  “I say we leave him here. Come on, help me cover the Humvee.”

  After covering up the truck with fallen branches, they set off into the forest. Five minutes into the hike, Raven spotted the brown, rocky embankments framing the edge of the woods. A fence of Douglas firs grew out of the steep inclines. The slope descended a hundred feet to the pasture below and was covered in mossy boulders; plenty of places to hide.

  They ducked behind one of the rocks and scoped the valley below. Raven checked the road and then moved the crosshairs back to the tower. It was more of a silo, made of stone with a lookout at the top. He put it at about twelve hundred yards out. Two men stood in the lookout at the top with their rifles angled out over the valley. A camp consisting of four buildings stood to the east.

  “Two contacts,” Raven reported. “But we’re clear up here. This is the perfect vantage.”

  Nathan held up a pair of binoculars. He did a thorough scan of the valley while Raven checked their six.

  “Looks like some sort of camp,” he whispered. “That’s got to be where they’re keeping the kids. I see a couple of contacts patrolling, but that’s it.”

  Raven took another look. A stone building and several log cabins were nestled under the ridgeline to the east. It was the same type of architecture Raven had seen in other national parks, built during the New Deal when President Roosevelt created the Civilian Conservation Corps to put America back to work after the Great Depression. Several men patrolled the camp with automatic rifles. Raven counted three of them and only one clunker pickup truck.

  “My guess is these fuckers hightailed it up here to seek refuge after the attack last week,” he said. “They don’t appear to be that organized.”

  “We can’t underestimate them,” Nathan said.

  Raven nodded grimly. He had underestimated Brown Feather, and he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

  “Try and get ahold of your sister again,” Raven said. “If you can’t, then we attack at dark.”

  ROWS OF TORCHES burned in Bond Park. Tonight, Cindy and Milo Todd were to be executed for killing Officer Rick Nelson.

  Colton stood next to Lindsey, stoically watching the scene. He’d told Kelly and Risa to stay home‌—‌he couldn’t stand the thought of them witnessing this. All Colton could think of was a Ku Klux Klan lynching.

  “This feels wrong,” Lindsey said.

  “People need to know the law still exists,” said a voice.

  Don approached, carrying a shotgun in one hand. A new gold star was pinned on his breast. “When the men who burned down the Stanley a
nd took our supplies hear about this, they’ll think twice about coming back to Estes Park.”

  “I don’t think Mr. Redford’s crew will be worried,” Colton said.

  “Justice will be served to those that break the law, including this Mr. Redford,” Don said. He spat a wad of tobacco onto the ground when Colton didn’t reply.

  “Don, don’t you have anything better to do right now?” Lindsey asked.

  “Look, I’m sorry about how things went down in the Mayor’s office today, but you don’t have what it takes to get us out of this mess, and I think you know it,” Don said, never taking his eyes off Colton.

  Colton balled his right hand into a fist and pivoted like he was about to throw a punch. Don flinched and took a step back.

  “Congratulations on the new job, Chief Aragon,” Colton said. “I hope to God you’re as tough as you think you are.”

  He walked away, leaving Don to prepare the nooses and contemplate what came next.

  Lindsey followed Colton toward the knot of curious residents that had formed in the parking lot beside the park. Several folks stood along the railing on the deck outside Claire’s Restaurant, and there were more standing on the balcony of La Cabana Mexican Grill.

  In the flicker of torchlight, he recognized most of the faces. Many of them he had known his entire life. His job‌—‌his duty‌—‌‌—‌his duty had been to keep them safe, and he had let them all down.

  “Are they really going to hang those people?” someone asked.

  “Sure are,” another person said. “They deserve it.”

  “I’d shoot them myself,” said another man. “Rick was my neighbor. He was a good man.”

  June Roberts, a retired woman who worked at the Safeway part-time bagging groceries, interjected. Her voice was soft but firm. “We can’t just kill them. That makes us no better than they are.”

  Colton bowed his head, trying to hold off the anger by counting in his head. Every time he tried, he kept coming back to the pointlessness of each death that had occurred over the past week. He scanned the crowd for his wife, just to make sure she hadn’t come. He was glad he didn’t see Sandra or Allie in the crowd, either, but he did spot Rex and Lilly Stone. Both of them watched Colton, their faces blank.

  One person he couldn’t find who should have been here was Mayor Gail Andrews.

  A commotion came from the back of the crowd. Colton followed its source to see Milo and Cindy being led from the station by Officer Matthew and Officer Hines. The prisoners shuffled, hands cuffed and feet shackled together by a connecting chain.

  “Where’s Gail?” he asked Lindsey.

  She shrugged. “No idea.”

  She better be here.

  Father Frank Nolte emerged from the crowd. He was dressed in a black shirt with a white collar. Colton had known Frank for thirty years. He’d married Colton and Kelly, baptized Risa, and most recently presided over Melissa Stone’s private funeral. Before the attack, he’d been gearing down to retire, but Colton had a feeling he was about to become a very busy man.

  Frank loosened his clerical collar and said, “You’re sure there’s no other way, Marcus?”

  “Not my call, Father,” Colton said. “Don’s in charge now.”

  A woman shouted over the din of the crowd. “You can’t hang us!”

  It was Cindy, and she was pulling on her chains, yanking her brother away from the gazebo. The crowd, now several hundred strong, would be unstoppable if they decided to protest.

  “You can’t do this!” Cindy shouted. “Please, please!”

  “It was Eric! Eric killed that cop!” Milo yelled.

  Don pumped his shotgun and angled it at them. “Both of you, be quiet. You will have your time to speak in a few minutes.”

  “I wish they’d get on with it,” someone said behind him. Colton turned and saw Gail, her eyes fixed on the makeshift gallows.

  Apparently the mayor had decided to show up after all.

  “We’re really going to do this?” Colton asked.

  “We’ve already discussed this, Marcus. We have to do this.”

  Colton faced her. “You’re wrong.”

  “I wish I was,” she sighed. “This isn’t going to be the last time we have to do something like this.”

  “No! Please!” Cindy shouted again.

  Hines pulled Milo and Cindy toward a long wooden footstool that had been set up under the nooses. Don pointed the shotgun at them. “Up,” he ordered.

  “Please, please don’t do this!” Milo begged. “It was Eric. He’s the one that hit that cop in the head with the rock!”

  “Yeah, it was Eric!” Cindy shouted. “You already killed him. This ain’t right!”

  Don angled the gun at Cindy, and she finally stood on the stool. Once she and Milo were both under the nooses, Father Frank performed the sign of the cross.

  There were a few shouts from the crowd, but most citizens simply waited in silence. Colton suspected a good portion of them didn’t expect them to follow through with the execution.

  “Stop!” Cindy shouted. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I swear to God, this wasn’t my fault.”

  She locked eyes with Colton. There was something in her gaze besides anger, but it wasn’t regret. It was fear. He guessed Cindy would say anything right now to save her own skin.

  Don cleared his throat and then announced, “Cindy and Milo Todd, you have been found guilty by a jury of your peers in the murder of Officer Rick Nelson, the kidnapping of Detective Lindsey Plymouth, and the attempted murder of several police officers. Estes Park, Colorado, and the United States of America is under martial law, and the punishment for your crimes is death.”

  “We never even had a trial!” Milo shouted.

  Cindy lowered her head, sobbing uncontrollably, snot flowing freely from her nose.

  “The Estes Park administration reviewed the case and found you guilty of the crimes I just stated,” Don said. “That’s the law now.”

  “Do it!” someone shouted. Colton turned to see Kyle, the thirteen-year-old son of their neighbors, punching the air with his fist. “Hang them!”

  Don raised a hand, and the crowd quieted.

  “We all know the country is at war,” he said, his voice booming over the park. “A war that we will only survive if we deal swiftly and violently with our enemies. There will be many tough decisions from here on out. Some of them won’t be popular. Others will be questioned. But Cindy and Milo made their decision, and they will receive their justice.”

  “Please,” Cindy begged.

  “Father Nolte will now say a prayer,” Don said.

  Colton saw Frank’s lips moving, but he only heard bits and pieces of the prayer. The crowd continued to watch in silence. A mother in the front covered her son’s eyes, and several people walked away.

  Cindy continued to beg for her life, but Milo just stared ahead, his gaze vacant and withdrawn. Sweat dripped down his forehead, and a wet spot had blossomed around his crotch.

  In Afghanistan, Colton had once towered over a Taliban soldier that was on his back, leg busted and torso full of bullet holes. The man was going to die, and he had known it. The body did some awful things when that happened.

  Frank finished his prayer and looked to Don.

  “Do you have any final words?” Don asked.

  “I’m sorry,” Cindy cried. “I’m sorry.”

  Milo sneered, suddenly snapping out of his stupor. “You’re all going to burn in hell for this.”

  Don looked at Gail, and she nodded. “Proceed, Officer Hines,” he said.

  Colton couldn’t believe it‌—‌Don didn’t even have the guts to do this himself. He had asked the younger officer to do it instead.

  Officer Hines climbed the ladder behind the makeshift gallows and slipped bags over their heads. Frank made the sign of a cross again, held up his Bible, and recited the Lord’s Prayer in a trembling voice.

  Hines looked back at Don, who nodded. After a moment of hesitation, Hines
kicked the stools away one at a time. Cindy and Milo dropped, the ropes tightening around their necks. Legs still shackled, they squirmed and jerked like frogs.

  Somewhere in the crowd, a baby starting crying. Colton turned to see Rick Nelson’s wife in the front row. She was holding her crying daughter in her arms, staring at the two hanging bodies with complete hatred.

  Colton forced his gaze away and left before the Todds stopped kicking.

  Charlize and Albert approached the double doors to U.S. Northern Command side by side. It was just after nine o’clock at night, but she felt wide-awake.

  According to the doctors, she had been taken down by a combination of things: an infection, low blood sugar, and fatigue. She’d needed a few days of rest‌—‌and her body had made the call to shut down. The new antibiotics were helping, and despite the constant headache, she was starting to feel better already. Once he’d been convinced that Charlize was going to be okay, Albert had given her another frank chat about not listening to him when he’d tried to take her to the medical ward.

  Two Marines came to attention as Charlize approached the double doors. The man on the left pushed them open to the two-level room beyond, which was currently buzzing with activity. It was the same basic setup she had seen in the PEOC and on the USS John Stennis. Monitors fed images of hotspots around the United States. On the right wall was the feed from a video camera inside a Humvee rolling down a highway.

  Two more monitors displayed aerial footage from helicopters, and a third showed checkered farmland somewhere in the Midwest, all of it burning. There were a dozen other monitors showing views of highways clogged with vehicles, refugees, and destruction.

  So this is what’s been happening while I was asleep.

  President Diego stood at the central table next to General Thor. He drank coffee from a mug with the presidential seal on it while Thor briefed him.

  Colonel Raymond, Thor’s second in command, jogged up the steps while Charlize observed the room. He stopped at the top of the stairs. “Please follow me, Secretary Montgomery.”

  “Colonel, have you gotten any closer to finding out where Fenix is holding Ty?” she asked.