Trackers 3: The Storm (A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller)

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “Sir,” the girl said as Colton walked away. “Can we stay or not?”

  The tall woman put her hand on the girl’s back and looked at Colton. “Sorry. Sarah’s just anxious.”

  “I’ll make my decision soon. In the meantime, please make sure your people stay in Bond Park, Jennie.”

  Jennie smiled politely and ushered Sarah back toward the tents. Smoke rose from the fire barrels, filling the area with the scent of cedar and metal.

  “How’d it go with Jason?” Colton asked. His eyes flitted to Raven’s bloodied knuckles.

  “He’s still alive, if that’s what you mean,” Raven said. He swallowed and forced the memories out of his mind. There was a mess to clean up, but that was the least of their worries right now.

  Lindsey finally walked over and folded her arms across her chest. “What’s going on?”

  “Like I thought, Jason is a former Special Ops soldier. He’s well trained, and I’m guessing the other raiders are too. He wouldn’t give up his friends, but there are definitely more of them out there.”

  “You think he’s part of the Sons of Liberty?” Colton asked.

  Raven shook his head. “Nope, and he’s not aligned with Redford’s posse either. He’s one of the raiders that have been terrorizing the cities east of the mountains. Sounds like he’s from Fort Collins, but I couldn’t get much more out of him. He’s more afraid of his ‘boss’ than my blade.”

  “Great, more psychopaths to worry about,” Colton said, heaving a sigh.

  “I told you, Chief,” Raven said. “We’ve got enemies barreling down on us from all directions. We need to send out scouts, beef up our security, and make some friends.”

  “We can start with them,” Lindsey said, jerking her chin toward the refugees. “They want to help.”

  Raven wasn’t sure that welcoming so many refugees into town was the right move, but it wasn’t his call.

  “All right, I’ve made up my mind,” Colton said. “Lindsey, change of plans. I want you to stay here while I go to the FEMA camp outside Loveland. Start arming the refugees and assigning them to roadblocks and other facilities. Then, I want you and Raven to head to Storm Mountain and convince John Kirkus to fight with us. Tell him about Jason and what’s headed our way.”

  Raven raised a brow when Colton looked at him, knowing exactly what was coming next. He almost protested, but he shut his mouth and put his battered hands in his pockets. He had expected different orders, but he wasn’t complaining. He needed to get home to check on Sandra and Allie.

  “But, sir, you can’t go by yourself,” Lindsey protested. “It’s far too dangerous.”

  “I’ve got to do this on my own. We can’t afford to take another person off our barriers in town,” Colton said.

  “At least get a few hours of sleep first,” Lindsey said. “You can’t go out there exhausted. You need to be sharp. Besides, the FEMA camp hasn’t sounded the all-clear yet.”

  Colton hesitated and finally nodded. She was right; he couldn’t go out there until they had signaled the attack was over.

  “I’ll head home and grab a few hours of shut eye and say goodbye to my wife and daughter. Radio me if you hear the all-clear. As soon as you do, I’m heading out there to see if I can track down Sheriff Gerrard. We’re going to need help if we have any hope of standing against men like Jason.”

  Sergeant Flint grimaced as he joined Corporal Van Dyke and Albert at the window. The sun was up and the city had come alive outside the apartment building where they were hiding out.

  Albert kept to the shadows as he watched the street below fill with people. Some of them seemed to be normal citizens: men and women that looked like average office workers and neighbors, but a closer look revealed filthy faces, thin frames, torn clothes, and desperate eyes.

  Everyone was looking for something, and most everyone was starving or on the verge of starving.

  Albert took a drink of his water bottle. This was supposed to be a quick in and out, all under the cover of darkness, so they hadn’t weighed themselves down with rations. But now they were going to need to wait until night to sneak back into the SC‌—‌assuming he was able to find Jacqueline first.

  He shook his head. They were just a few blocks away from his sister’s apartment, but after the attack in the park, the team had been forced to find cover and lick their wounds. Van Dyke had suffered two nasty strikes from a baseball bat, and Flint had been hit by the shotgun blast. Their armor helped save their lives, but they were still hurting.

  Albert wondered if they were in any shape to move. Maybe he should tell the men to return to base without him while he continued the search for Jacqueline. This wasn’t their fight, and he didn’t feel right about putting them at risk for his sake.

  “This is messed up,” Van Dyke said, moving away from the window. “Soon as we show our mugs, we’re going to get annihilated down there. Last Humvee that went outside the SC hardly made it back at all. Looked like it had passed through a gauntlet of machine gun fire.”

  “Captain Harris warned us,” Flint said. “MS-13 and the Latin Kings are terrorizing this area. We’re on their turf. You know what happened to…you know.”

  “What?” Albert said, turning from the window.

  Van Dyke and Flint exchanged a glance.

  “Is there something I don’t know and need to know?” Albert asked.

  “I’m sure you heard there is major gang activity in these areas,” Flint said, pausing. “However, I doubt Harris told you details. A few weeks ago a group of National Guard soldiers were taken hostage. We found their bodies hanging from a bridge. All of them were skinned alive.”

  “My God,” Albert said.

  “We’re lucky, man,” Van Dyke said. “Back at that park, if those guys had captured us, we’d be the ones hanging from a bridge.”

  Flint pointed to the closet. “See if you can find any clothes and some backpacks. We’ll change clothes and take what we can. I’m sure as hell not leaving these NVGs behind, though. Harris would shit a brick.”

  Albert went back to look out the window. A dark-skinned man wearing a track jacket was standing on the hood of a vehicle halfway down the street. He cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted something Albert couldn’t make out.

  “What’s he saying?” Flint asked. He moved over for a better look, one hand on his injured hip.

  “Not sure, but looks like it’s got the attention of everyone down there.” Albert pulled the drape back for a better view as a crowd formed around the man. Several were carrying shotguns and rifles. Most everyone had a pistol holstered or wedged under a belt. There was enough firepower on the street to start a bloodbath.

  “It’s all girl shit,” Van Dyke announced as he finished going through the closets. A pile of discarded shirts and pants were on the floor.

  Flint looked over his shoulder. “Then go find another empty apartment and bring some stuff back.”

  “You got it, Sarge,” Van Dyke said.

  “Go with him,” Flint said quietly. “Last thing I need is Van Dyke getting spooked and blowing away some civvies.”

  Albert nodded and followed Van Dyke toward the door. They removed some of their gear, including their packs, and proceeded out into the hallway with their weapons raised. It was quiet. The carpet reeked of stale piss.

  “Clear,” Van Dyke said.

  Albert followed him down the hallway. It felt odd walking through an apartment building wearing combat gear and carrying a machine gun, but he was slowly getting used to treating everyone like an enemy. People were shooting each other for cigarettes, and the gangs were committing unthinkable crimes.

  Van Dyke stopped at an apartment halfway down the corridor. The corporal stopped and knocked on the door. When no one answered, Van Dyke nodded at Albert, who in turn kicked the door off the frame. A moment later they strode into the apartment with their M4s sweeping over the space.

  “Clear,” Van Dyke announced in the living room. He flashed a hand signa
l, and Albert proceeded toward a hallway, barrel roving to the left and then the right. Van Dyke followed him into the open passage and moved to the left bedroom while Albert took the right bedroom.

  A stench hit his nostrils before he even opened the door. Raising his rifle in his left hand, he slowly pushed the wood door open with his right.

  “Get out!” someone screamed.

  Albert lowered his gun and reached out toward the boy that bolted from a hiding spot in the corner of the room. The kid dove for the twin bed before Albert could catch him.

  “Shit,” Albert muttered.

  The boy wedged his body under the bed and growled like a dog. Albert got down on his knees and looked under the side at an angle.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, kid,” Albert said.

  The boy appeared to be maybe seven years old with shaggy black hair. He was shirtless, and wore a pair of filthy jeans. The stink wasn’t just body odor‌—‌this kid had clearly soiled his pants.

  “Where are your folks?” Albert asked.

  The boy bared his teeth and growled again.

  “Stop doing that,” Albert said. “You’re not a caveman.”

  “Get out!” he screeched.

  Albert held up his hands and slowly rose to his feet. “Okay, kid, just chill out.” He walked a few steps away, bringing a finger to his lips when Van Dyke moved into the doorway. Then Albert pointed at the bed, drawing the corporal’s gaze.

  The boy peeked out a moment later and screamed again.

  “GET OUT!”

  Van Dyke laughed, but Albert shook his head.

  The corporal backed into the hallway. Albert went to follow, but something made him pause. The kid looked like he hadn’t eaten in days, and he smelled like a dumpster. Albert couldn’t just leave him here like this. He pulled out his water bottle and put it down near the edge of the bed. Then he gestured for the energy bar he knew Van Dyke had in his vest.

  “Hell no,” Van Dyke said.

  “Don’t be an asshole,” Albert replied.

  Van Dyke snorted and pulled out the bar. He tossed it to Albert, who set it on the floor beside the water. A hand shot out from under the bed. The water bottle and bar both vanished.

  Albert listened to the kid eating, and waited a few minutes before speaking again.

  “Can you come out now and talk to us?”

  Van Dyke whispered, “What the shit for? We can’t help him.”

  “Go find some clothes like Sergeant Flint ordered,” Albert said, shooting him a glance.

  “Fine. Whatever, man.”

  Albert bent down and sat on the floor casually, just like he would have done with his own kids. “Where are your parents?” he asked.

  “They left me here. All by myself.”

  “When?”

  The boy’s dirty face peered out from under the bed.

  “I don’t know,” the boy said. He wiped his lips and slowly crawled out. His ribs were showing. Red sores covered his stomach from scratching.

  “My parents were on a trip to the White House.”

  “The one in Washington, D.C.?”

  A nod.

  “They just left you here?” Albert asked.

  “I had a babysitter, but she took off a long time ago.” He looked at the ceiling as if in deep thought. “She’s dumb anyway.”

  Albert narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t sure what to make of this kid. “What’s your name?”

  “Dave, but my friends call me D-Money.”

  “I’m Albert, but my friends call me Big Al.”

  Dave bit off another hunk of the energy bar and chewed noisily.

  “How old are you?” Albert asked.

  “Almost eight. You a football player or something?”

  Albert smiled. “I was.”

  “I’m going to be a pro someday. My dad said that I got some growing to do, but...” Dave flexed his right bicep.

  “Impressive,” Albert lied.

  Van Dyke returned a few minutes later with clothes draped over his left arm and two backpacks over his shoulders. “Found us some stuff. We better get moving. Sarge is waiting.”

  Dave, still chewing, looked up at Van Dyke with a scowl. “Those are my dad’s clothes.”

  “Yeah, well your dad ain’t here now, is he?”

  “He’s coming back. You can’t have those,” Dave replied.

  Van Dyke chuckled. “Whatever, kid.”

  “Knock it off, Corporal,” Albert said. He stood and motioned for Van Dyke to get out of sight. The man looked like he was going to protest, but then just shrugged.

  “I’ll meet you back in the other room in a few,” Albert said. “Me and Dave need to have a chat.”

  Van Dyke left without a further word, and although Dave watched him go with the same scowl, he too remained silent.

  “I don’t like that guy,” Dave said a moment later.

  “He’s okay,” Albert replied. He let out a short sigh and said, “I got to be honest with you. Your parents probably aren’t coming home.”

  Dave lowered the bar and stopped chewing. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because Washington is gone. My family was there too, and they died. There was a bomb. I came here to find my sister, and I think you could help me.”

  For a moment Dave just stared at Albert. Then the tears came racing down his dirty face, burning away the grime.

  “I’m sorry,” Albert said. “Losing loved ones is hard, but you got to keep fighting. Even when your team’s down, you can’t give up.”

  Dave’s sniffles gradually subsided, and he nodded firmly. “Okay, Big Al. I’ll come with you on your quest. It’ll be like the Fellowship of the Ring.”

  Albert laughed. “Something like that...I guess.” He gestured toward the closet. “Change out of those clothes, okay? Grab something warm to wear.”

  While Dave dressed, footsteps sounded outside the door. Albert raised his rifle but then lowered the barrel when Van Dyke and Flint moved into the room, frantic looks on their faces.

  “Get out of your gear right now,” Flint said, shutting the door behind them.

  “Why? What’s wrong?” Albert asked.

  “That guy in the street earlier,” Flint said. “I heard what he was saying. Apparently those guys we killed last night weren’t just some low level gangbangers. One of them was pretty far up with the Latin Kings. They’re looking for three soldiers in black body armor.”

  “We got to ditch the kid,” Van Dyke said. “He’ll slow us down.”

  Albert looked at the boy, who was halfway into a sweatshirt. Dave pointed at Flint. “You’re Legolas, ’cause you got big ears,” Dave said.

  Flint raised a brow. “No, I’m Sergeant Flint.”

  “Leave the goddamn kid,” Van Dyke insisted.

  “We need him,” Albert said. “Those people are looking for three soldiers, right? Three guys and a kid won’t be as suspicious, then.”

  Flint snorted. “Okay, fine, whatever, but we need to get moving, stat.”

  Dave threw on a Ninja Turtles sweatshirt, and grinned to reveal two missing teeth. “Let the Fellowship of the Ring begin!”

  THE RADIO CRACKLED, stirring Colton awake.

  “Chief, this is Don, you copy, over?”

  Colton groaned in his bed and picked up the radio. He paused for a moment to sit up and then said, “Copy, Don. Go ahead. Over.”

  “The FEMA camp is all clear. Detective Plymouth said you wanted to know.”

  “Roger that. I’ll be at the station shortly, over.”

  Colton rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked out the window. He had no idea how long he’d slept, but it was still light outside. The bedroom door creaked open and Colton’s wife, Kelly walked in holding a cup of coffee.

  “I thought I heard voices,” she said.

  Colton swung his legs over the bed and she brought him a warm mug.

  “It’s pretty watered down, but I’m rationing.”

  “This is great, thank you,” Colto
n said.

  For several minutes he sat on the edge of the bed drinking the watery coffee. Kelly watched in silence, waiting for him to speak. He was so exhausted he couldn’t find the right words. Instead, he stood and walked downstairs to the kitchen table. Kelly joined him, and a few more moments of silence passed.

  “I don’t like you going by yourself,” Kelly finally said. “In fact, I hate it. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe you should take Raven with you.”

  Colton shook his head. “No, he’s needed here. I can’t risk pulling a single man away from our barriers right now, either. We need all the firepower in Estes Park that we can manage.”

  He took another slug of coffee. The caffeine was starting to kick in, but what he really needed was another five hours of sleep. After a second gulp of the weak brew, he set the cup back on the kitchen table and went over the checklist he and Kelly had created to help their family get through the winter. Colton noted with pride that forty of the fifty items had already been completed.

  “This is good, Kelly. While I’m gone, I’d sure appreciate it if you could get‌—‌”

  “Marcus, I really don’t want you going by yourself,” she interrupted.

  He looked up to meet her gaze. “I have to go.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “So I don’t get any say in the matter? That’s what you’re saying?”

  Colton waited a moment before replying. He was on edge from the lack of sleep and the violence of the previous day. The last thing he wanted to do was get into an argument with his wife right now, especially before heading out on a dangerous mission.

  “I have to do this for our town, and our family,” he said. “We’re not going to make it without help.”

  To his surprise, Kelly nodded and said, “I know, Marcus. I’ve never been able to talk you out of anything you were determined to do. It’s just…we need you to come home, okay?”

  He covered her hand with his. “I promise, love.”

  After a moment, she grabbed the checklist and looked it over. “I’m behind on a few things you asked me to do, but I’ll get caught up today. I’m heading into town with the Travises from next door.”