Invasion (Best Laid Plans Book 3)

by Nathan Jones

  Thanks to that caution Lewis immediately saw the dark shapes at the base of the hill ahead. He went completely still, and at his side an equally alert Jane also went motionless.

  Keeping his movements as imperceptible as possible he led the way to the nearest cover. Jane followed quietly, trusting that he'd fill her in if it was safe to do so without alerting potential enemies with the noise.

  He wasn't sure it was, but she needed to know. “Four or more people lying prone at the bottom of the hill southwest of us,” he whispered almost in her ear. As she nodded in comprehension he lifted his rifle to peer through the scope. Jane lifted her rifle as well, unable to see like he could but ready to target any muzzle flashes and return fire.

  Once Lewis got a closer look at the dark shapes he felt his stomach sink. They weren't moving, and from the unnatural way they were sprawled he anticipated the worst. “Dead, I think,” he continued heavily. “Two adults and children from the sizes. Probably a family.”

  Jane sucked in a horrified breath. “Shot and left for dead?”

  Lewis wouldn't have put it past Turner's raiders. “It could be a trap. Someone waiting to ambush us when we check on them.”

  The redheaded woman nodded and settled down farther behind their impromptu cover, rifle held steady. “Go.”

  He didn't like leaving her there without night vision, facing enemies who almost certainly had it, but he had to check the area. At least they probably hadn't been seen yet or someone would've started shooting at them by now.

  Lewis briefly rested a hand on her shoulder to signal he was off, then slipped out from behind cover with his rifle slowly panning the area. Looking through the scope while trying to walk was a bit awkward, but it worked well enough for him to see what was around him. He circled far to the right in the direction of the foothills, where there were a few likely spots for anyone waiting in ambush, and did his best to stay out of sight and make no noise as he went.

  The area seemed deserted, and five minutes later he'd circled all the way around the bodies to approach Jane from the left. In spite of his best efforts as he got close he saw her stiffen and start to turn his way, and he gave a low whistle he hoped wouldn't carry any farther than her ears. She relaxed, and he hurried to rejoin her.

  “It's clear I think,” he whispered in her ear. Then, more reluctantly. “I guess we should check the bodies.” Jane nodded, and he could see the same reluctance he felt in her expression. But she followed without complaint as he led the way to the dark shapes at the base of the hill.

  It was the Mercer family.

  According to the Mayor the former owners of Mercer groceries had left the same day Lewis and Trev headed for the mountains last fall, probably afraid that Ferris would steal their food the same way he'd looted the shelter. No one knew whether the family had a cabin up in the mountains or some other available shelter nearby, but they'd disappeared anyway.

  And now here they were. Charles, his wife Vera, and their three children in their early teens and slightly younger. Maybe they'd run out of food and had come back to the town hoping for relief. Or maybe they'd brought what remained of their food back and were planning to rejoin the town for safety and community. Either way they couldn't have known about the raiders, and had been completely unprepared to have an enemy drive up in a truck and gun them down where they stood.

  With a heavy heart Lewis began lining the bodies up and arranging them as neatly as possible with their coats covering their faces. As he did his thoughts were in dark places, and he was glad that Jane had insisted on coming with him. He didn't want to be alone at the moment. For her part Jane took a position partway up the hill with his rifle so she could cover him as he worked.

  It was too dangerous to send out a burial party in the night, and he certainly wasn't about to call in and give away their location, so since there was nothing else they could reasonably do they left the bodies for now and continued on.

  Before too long Lewis found that he and Jane were walking so close their shoulders brushed with each step, as if taking comfort in the presence of another living person. Lewis was sure she noticed when he lifted his hand a few times to wipe away tears, but she didn't say anything. Whatever grief she felt seemed to be more internal.

  Or maybe not. After they'd been walking for almost five minutes Jane abruptly spoke in a whisper he barely heard. “The world's racing to see whether it can kill us or crush our spirits first.” She stopped, and as Lewis started to turn she leaned heavily against his side with her forehead resting on her forearm against his shoulder.

  Lewis tentatively reached out to hold her, but after only ten or so seconds she straightened and kept going without another word. He followed, going back to single file in her footsteps as she led the way with his rifle.

  They continued their patrol in silence for a long while, but it wasn't the usual easy silence they shared when neither had anything pertinent to say. Lewis was troubled by the deaths, by thoughts of what, if anything, he could've done to prevent them. And what he could possibly do in the future to see that sort of atrocity didn't happen again.

  When had the attack happened? Before he and Jane had begun their patrol, definitely. The people patrolling during the day hadn't noticed the bodies, but then again Matt had revised the routes to send new patrols out farther than usual. It could've been hours or days, but not too long ago or he would've easily been able to tell.

  Another troubling question was why nobody had heard the gunshots. They were a fair ways from town, but even at this distance a patrol or sentry certainly should've heard, and maybe even people in the town itself.

  Did the raiders have suppressors to go with their night vision, missile launchers, and other gear? It wouldn't be too much of a surprise, although it was definitely another advantage Turner would have over the town. Suppressors wouldn't completely cancel out the noise, but having them meant that not only did the raiders have superior mobility with the trucks, could blow targets up from a distance, could mow down groups of defenders with .50 cals or M1As even behind makeshift fortifications, could see at night, and had communications devices that couldn't be intercepted, but they could also mount surprise attacks that the town would have a harder time hearing coming.

  Especially away from town. Lewis abruptly put a hand on Jane's arm to stop her, then leaned in close. “I've been asleep all day so I'm not exactly up to speed,” he whispered. “Do we have any hunting parties out?”

  He felt her arm tense. “Yeah, a group of six Evan led out yesterday. They were due back before dark but must've been delayed.” Jane sucked in a breath. “Maybe they had good luck and it's taking them longer to bring in all the meat they shot. The deer are starting to head back up into the mountains.”

  True, going by what Lewis had seen previous years there would be herds with dozens of animals on the move. It was tempting to hope it was good luck instead of bad that had delayed them, but even so he felt a sinking in his gut similar to when he recognized the Mercer family.

  Evan Bridges was one of the refugees who'd stuck with his commitment to patrol the town throughout the winter, even when times were hardest. And he had other good people with him. It was painful to assume the worst, but he had to.

  “I've got a bad feeling I know why there's no raider camp on the west side of town and we haven't seen any sign of raiders in that direction.” He quickly outlined his grim thoughts about the situation with the Mercer family and silenced weapons.

  As he spoke Jane turned away from him, panning the area around them with the night vision scope. Once he was finished she lowered the weapon and turned to look at him, voice strangely flat. “The Normans and a few other families left not long after the attack. They planned to head up into the mountains where it was safe.”

  Lewis felt his shoulders sag, and it was an effort not to just plop to the ground in defeat right where he was standing. “So Turner deliberately left us a way out of town hoping to lure some of us out to where he could get at us? W
hy didn't we see this coming?”

  “We did,” Jane argued, sounding frustrated. “We scoured every inch of the area west of town. The raiders must have dug in deep and stayed out of sight, picking their targets carefully to avoid alerting us to what they were doing. They probably heard us talking over the radio about how much we needed those hunting parties to keep bringing in food, so they knew if they sat tight eventually we'd come to them.”

  Lewis nodded wearily. He'd been with one of the groups scouting the hills west of town yesterday, same as Jane had. He hadn't seen the slightest hint of danger, and on his word Evan's hunting party and the Normans and others had gone out trusting it was safe.

  There was a more immediate and dire ramification, though. “This means we're trapped in town with no way out,” he said softly.

  “We were from the start, we just didn't know it,” Jane said, going back to her odd flat tone. She abruptly shoved his rifle towards him, holding her other hand out for him to hand over her own. “One of us needs to go warn the town. We probably can't do anything for the people already out there, but we need to keep anyone else from leaving.”

  Lewis shrugged against a sudden itching between his shoulder blades as he unslung Jane's .308 and traded with her. “We'll probably want to pull the patrols in closer to town, especially on the western border. I'll try to find our other people out here and pass the word along. Good luck, and be careful.”

  The redheaded woman nodded and started off, and Lewis did his best to keep her in his view for as long as possible as he continued south along his route. He knew he was probably in more danger than she was, but it was hard not to worry for her.

  The night seemed a lot more dangerous than it had when they'd left town.

  Chapter Five

  Rocky Roads

  The trip over the mountains to Denver proved to be just as difficult as Trev had feared, although in different ways.

  The first and worst way was the incline. The uphill roads from the afternoon before became even more extreme, to the point that he was walking as much as riding even in the morning and throughout the afternoon, when the roads were for the most part clear. He was exhausted before noon, but stubbornly pushed on at a slower pace taking more breaks.

  The second way was the temperature, which plummeted quickly as he gained altitude into the mountains. It forced him to take it slow for fear of exerting himself too hard and freezing in his own sweat, even though in the back of his mind was the constant reminder of the deadline he was up against. His family needed him.

  The third way was the pace. The miles he put behind him on the previous two days tantalized him in the morning, when the incline wasn't as steep and he managed to make 30 or so miles before noon. But then he really entered the mountains, already out of energy from the greater than usual exertions he'd already gone through, and from that point on he slowed to a walking pace or worse.

  It also didn't help that he was now carrying the extra weight of all those candy bars, or that he'd gorged himself on them that morning and the night before. Which might explain why he'd run out of energy so quickly.

  Either way he only made about 30 more miles in the afternoon, still with roughly 40 miles more to Eisenhower Tunnel and the highest elevation before he could start going downhill and the trip would get easier. And during those last 5 or so miles of travel he really had to fight to stay positive, because at that point he finally started encountering real snow.

  There had been drifts alongside or even across the road quite a bit of the time up to that point. But he always managed to find a place to cross the worst of them without taking too long, getting back to areas where at worst a skiff of snow and ice a few inches deep covered the road. Since he was forced to walk his bike so often anyway the snow didn't bother him all that much.

  But near the end of the day he encountered a snowdrift that didn't seem to end, forcing him to pick his way across dragging his bike behind him on the tarp for mile after mile at a snail's pace. Even worse, he saw an ominous line of clouds far on the western horizon that might turn into a snowstorm that night or the next morning.

  He'd really banked on clear weather holding up until he was over the mountains and closer to Denver. A snowstorm would be more than just an inconvenience up here; it could actually get him killed.

  It wasn't too long after that when he finally reached a section of road where the snow wasn't quite as deep. He decided to set up camp there beneath a bit of overhang that offered some small protection from the icy winds that seemed to blow nonstop from the mountaintops above, and somehow managed to muster up the energy to set up his tent and crawl into his sleeping bag still completely bundled up in his winter gear.

  The only good side he could see to all this was that he'd passed a couple towns in the afternoon that were pretty big and should've had decent sized populations. Unlike the towns between Glenwood Springs and the beginning of the mountains, which he'd still gone around on the likely chance that they still had people living in them, these higher elevation towns were obviously completely deserted and stripped bare.

  There might have been a few hardy people willing to winter up in the mountains the way he and Lewis had, but if so they didn't show themselves, and Trev hurried past the abandoned towns with his Mini-14 close to hand just to be safe.

  He wasn't sure he'd call enduring cold for a smaller chance of running into potentially hostile people a good tradeoff, but since it was what it was he wasn't complaining. Nature could throw you some nasty surprises, but people could throw you ones just as nasty. Sometimes nastier.

  He fell asleep that evening chilled in spite of his warm sleeping bag and quality tent, worried that sometime in the night a snowstorm or an avalanche would bury him. It didn't make for the most restful sleep.

  * * * * *

  The next morning dawned cold and clear. That ominous line of gray clouds was still on the horizon, but if they'd come any closer over the night Trev couldn't see it. Was it just haze and his overactive imagination?

  Either way crawling out of his sleeping bag provided the same unpleasant rush of bitter cold he remembered with zero fondness from his time at the hideout. He wasted no time packing up his sleeping bag and tent and setting off, so if nothing else he could warm himself up with exertion. He decided to forego breakfast and any water until he was warmed up a bit, since the thought of eating and drinking in his current state wasn't all that appetizing.

  This was the part of the trip that he and Lewis had worried about most. But considering that the alternatives were a more dangerous northern route where he'd potentially run into just as many if not more problems with snow, or trying to go way way out of his way south around the mountains along I-40 where he'd be much more likely to die of thirst, managing a few days of rough conditions seemed like an acceptable alternative.

  There wasn't much to say about the morning and early afternoon, other than the cold and the bone-crushing drudgery of slogging uphill through snow. But thankfully he got a bit of a reprieve after maybe eight hours of towing his bike, when he reached a slight downhill slope leading to Silverthorne and Dillon Reservoir, and an expanse of more or less level road.

  Compared to what he'd dealt with so far it felt like a vacation, and best of all the roads seemed more clear along this stretch. He was actually able to hop on his bike and ride in a few places. With that slight increase in speed Trev entertained the hope that he'd reach Eisenhower Tunnel before it got too dark to travel.

  Before too long, however, the road began inclining steeply once more on the last stretch up to the highest elevation along 70 to Denver, with the tunnel at the top. Trev fell into a sort of daze along that last stretch as the sun sank down to the horizon, racing sunset to the tunnel. Under the ground it would be much warmer, and hopefully he'd even be able to escape most of the windchill.

  It was almost too dark to see by the time he glimpsed the road ahead disappearing into a black hole in the side of the mountain. Heartened by the sight, he p
ushed on into the night to reach the tunnel. He was in better shape than he'd been that first night after the Gulf refineries attack, when pushing into the night had resulted in an injury, and he'd also learned valuable lessons. So in spite of his haste he moved deliberately and paused to rest, although that didn't stop him from hurrying a bit more than was reasonable to escape the cold, which was quickly sapping his strength.

  The tunnel felt almost like a tropical island as Trev stumbled into it, and he hurried to pack up the tarp and pick up his bike so he could walk it farther in. He even found an intact car parked in the right lane a few hundred yards along. It was locked but the window was cracked open, and it didn't take him long to get a door unlocked.

  There was nothing useful inside and the battery was long dead, of course. But after weighing the pros of sleeping on a relatively comfortable seat compared to sleeping in a tent he dragged out his sleeping bag, plugged the cracked open window, and fell into blissful unconsciousness.

  The next morning Trev spent a bit of time in the tunnel eating a proper meal, including drinking enough water, then carefully checked over his bike and made a few adjustments as needed. Once that was done he pedaled the mile and a half or so to the other end of the tunnel, with his flashlight clenched in his fingers around the hand grip waveringly lighting the way ahead. After he reached the other end and saw the snowdrifts outside it was hard not to feel reluctant about getting ready to continue the slog.

  The route was downhill this time, at least. In fact between Eisenhower Tunnel and Denver there was a drop in elevation of almost 6,000 feet along roughly 50 miles, which meant if he could push hard today and had a bit of good luck with the snow he'd be back in spring weather by nightfall.