The Battle - The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: No Sanctuary Series - Book 6

by Mike Kraus

  Once enough trucks have been outfitted with the explosives over a four-day period, the plan is put into action. Each device is outfitted with a cellphone receiver cannibalized from a “burner” phone. En masse, using a simple piece of computer software, each number is dialed at the same time. The results are catastrophic. When carried out in conjunction with targeted infrastructure and viral attacks, there is no time for law enforcement on any level to carry out a response that can even begin to cope. Panic grips the throat of three hundred and fifty million people as they see millions of their own begin to die in the chaos.

  The death of millions and the collapse of a country’s infrastructure and sense of self was not brought about by a war or by an asteroid or by a solar flare or by an electromagnetic pulse. It was orchestrated by one man whose sheer force of will, drive and determination to seek revenge for his family drove him to commit mass murder.

  One person started it all. And three now seek to end it.

  Chapter 12

  Green grass had long since given up in the face of the cold and the trees that lined the country roads were barren aside from the occasional pine that stuck out amongst the bonelike limbs of the other, leafless species. Asphalt changed to gravel which changed to dirt and then back to asphalt, stirring up stone and dust as a lone vehicle crisscrossed the back roads north of Washington.

  While Omar’s trip to his safe house in the rural hills and plains was relatively quick and painless, the trip carried out by those trying to follow him was anything but. It had been over an hour since they took off from the depot, and they had no solid way of knowing how close they were to locating Omar’s hiding place.

  The tracking device was still giving off a signal, though the unspoken worry between Frank and Jackson was whether or not it would die before they arrived. It still amazed Jackson that Omar had pocketed the tracker, and though he wondered if they might not be driving into a trap, he had to concede that it was altogether possible that the man had simply not ever seen one before.

  “You thinking about the tracker again?” Frank spoke softly from the driver’s seat as he glanced over at Jackson. In the back, Linda had finally fallen asleep and was snoring intermittently.

  “That obvious, huh?” Jackson shook his head. “This is the only lead we’ve got on the man singlehandedly responsible for all of this crap and here I am looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “You’re just doing your job. What you’re trained to do.”

  “What do you think, Richards?”

  Frank snorted in amusement. “I think that questions like that are way beyond my pay grade and skill level. But if Linda thinks that he’s not trying to double-cross us, then I’d go with her gut instinct. She knows him better than anyone else does, I’d guess.”

  “What a hell of a way to live. Spending years hunting someone and he ends up doing all of this. It’s a conspiracy theorist’s best dream and worst nightmare all wrapped up into one.”

  “Heh. I just hope she can handle what’s coming up next.” Frank looked at Linda’s still form in the rearview mirror. “He really worked her over.”

  “Oh, she’ll be able to handle it. His best case scenario at this point is to put a bullet through his brain before she gets to him.”

  “No kidding.”

  A slight smile crossed Jackson’s lips. “What’s the story with you and her anyway?”

  Frank felt his heart rate increase at the question. “What do you mean by story?”

  “How you two managed to link up. I mean, you’re not exactly… well, I mean…” Jackson fumbled with his words.

  “I’m not exactly a soldier or a Marine? It’s okay, Jackson. You won’t hurt my feelings.” Frank shook his head and smiled. “I was an accountant for years. The only trade I knew. Then, when things started going south I was laid off and spent a while out of work before I took the only job I could find—driving trucks across the country.”

  “Was yours one of the ones that they hit?”

  “Oh yes. I happened to be getting a bite to eat—and ruining my driving stats at the same time—when it just… yeah.” Frank shivered at the memory. “I was stuck up in Maine and my parents live in Texas, so I hoofed it to the closest town to try and find a way to get down there. One thing led to another, I saved her from a really pissed-off group of people at a gas station, she abandoned me in the middle of nowhere, I saved her again, yada yada yada, here I am now. Driving a military vehicle around north of D.C. searching for a terrorist.”

  “Not exactly what you’d pictured doing, is it?”

  “It never made my top ten list, no.”

  Jackson chuckled and looked back down at the tracker. “Take a left up here at this next road.” Frank nodded, and as they turned off onto yet another road, Jackson continued. “She likes you, you know.”

  Frank froze mid-turn at Jackson’s words, nearly driving them off of the road before he managed to recover amidst Jackson’s fruitless attempt to stifle his laughter. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Frank kept his eyes on the road, trying to keep his voice level and natural and failing on both counts.

  “She likes you. It’s obvious. Plus I’ve gotten a couple earfuls from Sarah.”

  “I… I don’t…”

  “Hey, you don’t have to talk to me about it.” Jackson turned and looked at Linda, still sleeping in the back seat. “But it’s true. She’s got a thing for you.”

  “This really isn’t…”

  “There’s never going to be a perfect time, Frank.” Jackson’s smile turned sad. “This whole mess has torn everything apart. We’ve all lost a lot. Just… don’t waste any opportunities. Okay? She may act like she’s all about the mission and the goal but there’s still some emotions buried under those layers of scars and callouses. If you want to say something, then do it.”

  “I…” Frank struggled to find the right words before settling on the best thing he could think of. “I will. And thanks. I appreciate that.”

  “Yep. And hey, look at that!” Jackson jabbed a finger at the tracker’s screen. “Signal’s coming in way louder. I think we can get a proper triangulation on it.” He pushed a few buttons on the device before looking up at the road. “Swing the next right you can. I need to get a few more readings from a different location.”

  “Got it. Taking a right.”

  ***

  An additional forty-five minutes passed, with only the occasional “take a right” or “take a left” punctuating the silence. Each time they made a new turn, Jackson would scribble on a scrap of paper lying on the dashboard, recording the signal strengths from various locations as he worked to figure out the precise location of the tracker. A map of the area was folded over next to him and had red X’s in various spots.

  “Which way now?” Frank eased the truck to a stop at a four-way intersection and looked over at Jackson.

  “Gimme a sec.” Jackson mumbled as he looked between his scrap of paper and the map before closing the tracking device and spreading the map across his legs. He used his red pencil to draw a circle around a point just to their northeast and looked up at Frank. “There. We’re going there.”

  “You sure?”

  “We’ve taken double the number of readings needed. So yeah, I’m sure.”

  “Double? You mean we could have been there by now?”

  “Call me overly cautious, but I’d rather not go in with guns blazing to the wrong address.”

  “I… okay, yeah. So I hang a right here?”

  “Yep.” Jackson unbuckled his seatbelt and turned around, throwing the tracking device onto the back seat next to Linda. He dug through his bag next, pulling out spare empty magazines and lining them up on the floor in front of his seat. “I’ll let you know when we get close. We need to pull over and get everything in order before we go in.”

  “How are we going in, exactly?”

  “Good question. We don’t have any satellite or drone reconnaissance of the area so we’ll be going in relativel
y blind. It’s not ideal but if he’s there then we need to try to get to him. Linda’s got more experience with this sort of thing so as long as she’s up to it, she’s going to take point and tell us what to do.”

  “She can certainly improvise well. Do you think she’ll be up for it, even if you give her one of those shots again?”

  “A speedball? Yeah. That’ll get her going again for a while. It’s hell on her system and terrible for her, though.”

  “You’re not my mother, Jackson.” A voice from the backseat made both Frank and Jackson turn and look at Linda.

  “How you feeling?” Jackson shifted in his seat to get a better look at her as she slowly pushed herself into a sitting position.

  “Like somebody spent hours punching me repeatedly.”

  “How’re the ribs?”

  “About the same. Hurts like hell every time I take a breath. How close are we? Did you find the location yet?”

  Jackson folded the map over on itself and passed it back to Linda as he pointed at the red circle. “The tracker’s there.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “He had us drive around long enough to take double the number of signal strength and directional readings. I’m pretty sure he’s sure.” Frank answered.

  “Good man.” Linda nodded as she examined the map. “We’re almost there, I take it?”

  “Ten minutes out, probably. We’re going to stop soon and get everything in order.” Jackson took the map back and laid it out on his lap again.

  “Good, good. What’s the strategy?”

  Jackson and Frank exchanged a glance before the soldier turned back around. “I figured you’d want to take lead on that. You’ve got more experience in that sort of thing than I do, plus if I try to take point on this you’ll probably end up killing me.”

  Linda didn’t respond to the joke as she stared out through the windshield. “Well, let’s see. Without recon we’re going to be going in blind.”

  “Jackson already went through that.” Frank replied. “He said we’d probably be improvising the whole way through.”

  “Absolutely we will. He’s bound to have guards around the property he’s on, and we don’t know how many buildings might be there or which one he’s in. We should ambush one of the guard patrols and extract that information from them before we go in any further. The key is going to be doing it without alerting him that we’re there. If we do, then he could escape again.”

  “Ambushing a guard patrol? What is this, some kind of spy movie?” Frank snorted in amusement as Linda began to stretch her arms and legs, groaning at the myriad of pains that made themselves known with each and every movement.

  “We need info before we move in on Omar,” Jackson replied, “otherwise we’ll be sitting ducks.”

  “It sounds crazy.”

  “Frank, we’re driving a military truck north of Washington in search of a foreign terrorist after we destroyed a mortar attack on a city, defused a nuclear bomb and survived numerous attacks. We’re a little beyond crazy at this point.” Linda couldn’t help but crack a slight smile at how absurd it all sounded when it was jumbled up together.

  “Fair point.” He nodded and sighed. “Just tell me what to do.”

  ***

  Half a mile from the location on the map, tucked behind a small shed near the edge of the road, Frank, Jackson and Linda stood around the back of the truck. They spoke in low, conspiratorial tones as they pushed bullets into magazines, checked and re-checked their weapons and carefully organized their gear in their vests and backpacks. Linda took the small black pouch containing the two remaining needles and tucked it into her pocket, promising Jackson that she would only use it when absolutely necessary. Her pain was still severe, but the brief rest she took in the back of the truck left her feeling less groggy and more alert and energized.

  “The layout of all of this area seems to be the same. Fields with small patches of woods here and there.” Linda looked around, confirming what she had seen during the last few minutes of their drive. “So I say we go in on foot from here, sticking to the opposite side of the road and keeping to the low points of the fields and in the trees as much as possible. As soon as we spot the first guard patrol we’ll lie low until we find a good way to take them down, then I’ll get as much information from them as possible.”

  Jackson tightened the straps on his backpack and checked that the safety on his rifle was on. “You lead and we’ll follow, Rollins.”

  “Frank, I want you sticking to me like white on rice. Where I go, you go. Walk in my footsteps, breathe when I do and don’t shoot at anything unless I tell you to. Jackson, you provide rearguard. Hang a few meters behind us and make sure we don’t get surprised by anything.”

  Frank and Jackson both nodded and Linda picked up her rifle. Her face was rigid and she was still clearly in pain, though Frank could see a sparkle of joy in her eyes for the first time in a while. She flashed them both a grin and turned from the truck, heading toward the road.

  “All right, boys. Let’s go bag ourselves a terrorist.”

  ***

  “Perimeter guards just checked in, sir. They’ve not spotted anything abnormal.”

  “I want updates every ten minutes starting now.” Farhad Omar sat on the edge of a folding chair in front of a table, his legs bouncing nervously. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

  “Sir, with all due respect—”

  “I suggest you choose your next words very carefully.”

  “Sir, I just… how would anyone know where we are? We weren’t followed and I don’t think even she could—”

  “Assumptions are what get people killed.” Omar’s voice is steady, but there’s an unmistakable streak of anger building at the edges. “Assumptions kill us and wreck our plans and destroy years of ceaseless work. We will not assume. Not about her. Have them check in every ten minutes. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll let them know now.” Omar’s eyes track the man as he walks away, talking into his two-way radio in a low voice. In the house, Omar studies a map of the city to the south as though the bird’s-eye view will give him some insight into how his rapidly depleting forces can somehow take it. Reports from those attacking the city have grown sporadic and the latest ones are not on the positive side. The man who escaped—who his men somehow allowed to escape—is more than likely responsible for warning the city about the flanking attacks. The attacks that, if they had succeeded, would have meant the final stage in his plan would have been carried out.

  So many cities and so many bombs but with no way to activate them, all he could do is sit in frustration and wish that everything wasn’t collapsing around him.

  Chapter 13

  A bath. A warm bath. With bubbles, some scented candles, music and a glass of red wine, with the bottle sitting nearby. And maybe someone rubbing her feet. More than anything else in the world, Linda just wanted a bath. She had forgotten the last time that she had a proper shower under steaming hot water with something better than a bar of plain, unscented soap. Relaxing in a warm bath and letting her aching muscles relax while the water soothed them sounded like the most divine experience in the world.

  “Linda.” The whisper from just to her right side dissolved the daydream and returned her to reality. The cold, stiff, bruised, constantly painful reality that she was living in was in stark contrast to what she had been imagining.

  “What is it?”

  “Up ahead on the left. You see that guy standing out there?”

  Linda hadn’t been paying much attention during their half-mile walk, but at the first mention that someone else was nearby she instantly snapped into a focused, analytical state. “Good eye,” she whispered to Frank and held up a fist, signaling for both him and Jackson to stop.

  The man Frank had spotted was walking slowly on the inside of the barbed-wire fence bordering the property to the left. He wore a camouflage jacket and blue jeans along with a baseball cap. A black rifle was balanced in his h
ands as he walked along, slowly meandering alongside the fence, looking very much like he had no particular destination or goal in mind.

  “Well, well, well. Doesn’t he look out of place.” Linda whispered to Frank and Jackson as they both knelt down next to her and watched the man.

  “Could just be someone who lives out here,” Jackson replied, “but I wouldn’t expect most folks to be dressed and armed like that just to take a stroll around their property.”

  “Especially not when there’s more than one.” Linda pointed out beyond the first man to another pair of figures emerging from the trees. They were dressed in dark-colored clothing, like the first one, and they both carried what looked like the exact same weapons, too. The pair stopped in front of the man and one of them pulled a radio off of his belt and held it up to his face for a moment while looking around before finally replacing it. The three stood there for a few more minutes before breaking off again, the lone man turning to retrace his steps while the pair vanished back into the woods.

  “Definitely not someone who lives here. Looks like you two found the correct place, all right.”

  “Is it just me,” Frank asked, “or is it odd that he’s by himself? Those other two were together, so why’s he alone?”

  “It looks like he might be assigned to a small patrol area. They may have a limited number of people and if they’re on high alert they could be spread too thin.”

  “Here,” Linda slipped out of her backpack and dropped it on the ground, “watch this. I’m going to take him down.”

  “No.” Jackson put a firm hand on her shoulder and she winced. “You are not in good enough shape to do this. I’ll grab him and bring him across the road, up there to that little barn. You two wait for me there.” The lieutenant pulled off his own backpack and handed his rifle to Frank before drawing and checking the ammo in his pistol.

  “Good idea. Come on, Linda.” Frank nudged her and she picked up her pack again as she sighed at Jackson.