Return fire rang out, and Albert crouched back behind the rock. Bullets kicked up dirt to his right. He pushed his body against the boulder, doing his best to keep his large frame hidden.
“How bad is he hurt?” Albert asked.
“We need to get him out of here fast,” Flint said.
More muzzle flashes came from the playground as the chopper approached, descending over the basketball courts. The sight of the bird brought out courage in the remaining Latin Kings. Bringing down a Black Hawk would be a badge of honor for these assholes.
Flint looked over at Albert. “Get Dave and your sister out of here! We’ll hold these fuckers back. I’m not leaving until every one of them is dead.”
Van Dyke choked out, “Just don’t leave without us, bro.”
“Never,” Albert said. “We’re all getting out of here. Just hang on.”
Albert took off running for the chopper, shielding his sister and Dave with his body. A flash of motion came from his right. Before he could raise his rifle, a bullet slammed into his side, knocking him to the ground and seizing the air from his lungs. His night vision goggles rolled onto the dirt, and he looked up with naked eyes.
To his right, a man with lip piercings and a thin mustache walked into view. He was holding a Glock. He grinned as he aimed the barrel downward.
Albert focused on the cold, dark eyes of the Latin King. Tattoos covered his face and neck. Was this really the last face Albert would ever see?
“Fuck you, nig—” the man began to say when his words were cut off by a scream of pain.
Albert’s eyes flitted to a short figure standing behind the gangbanger. It was Dave, and the boy had plunged his knife into the man’s back. He pulled it out and then jammed it in a second time.
“For Gondor!” Dave shouted.
Albert quickly pushed himself up, gritting his teeth at the pain. The gangster howled and reached with one hand to grip the knife sticking out of his back. He aimed his Glock at Dave with his other hand but never got the chance to pull the trigger.
A three-round burst hit the guy in the chest, sending him sprawling backward. Albert turned to see Flint, his rifle raised.
“Go!” Flint yelled.
More flashlights were approaching from the opposite end of the park. Reinforcements had arrived. Albert picked Dave up under one arm like an over-sized football. They returned to the tree where Jacqueline lay, feebly groaning.
“Y’all stop all that noise,” she groaned.
He reached down to help his sister up, but the gunshot wound was too painful. “You’ve got to get up,” he said.
“Just lemme sleep,” she said, turning her head away.
“Come on, Jackie!” he shouted, watching as the chopper landed on the courts. A team of soldiers jumped out and Albert waved at them and yelled, “Over here!”
More gunfire cracked behind them, Van Dyke and Flint exchanging rounds with the advancing gangbangers. The next few seconds dragged by with agonizing slowness.
The pain was intense, and Albert could feel the lifeblood gushing from the wound in his side, warming his belly and chest while turning his limbs cold. He tried to run, but his legs wouldn’t respond. They gave out on him and he collapsed in the dirt.
The soldiers reached them a moment later. Two of them hauled his sister and Dave away.
“Mr. Big Al!” Dave yelled.
A third man with the bulky build of a linebacker bent down and helped Albert up. Using the big soldier as a crutch, Albert hurried toward the bird.
Flint and Van Dyke abandoned their position, but they were still firing as they retreated. A dozen muzzle flashes came from the trees. Van Dyke stumbled, and as Flint leaned over to offer him a hand, bullets tore into his back and side. He fell with Van Dyke, both men tangling on the ground.
“Sergeant!” Albert yelled. He pulled away from the soldier helping him and stopped. “We can’t leave them.”
The soldiers that had helped Dave and Jacqueline into the chopper returned with their rifles shouldered. They fired at the final gangbangers while two of them ran to help Van Dyke and Flint.
Albert wanted to help, but the pain was too intense. He couldn’t even walk on his own. Red encroached across his vision. By the time he reached the chopper, his body was numb. He collapsed to the floor of the troop hold and forced his eyelids open. A small face stared down at him.
“Please don’t die,” Dave sobbed.
“I won’t leave you, buddy,” Albert said. He looked over to his sister. A medic was crouched next to her, applying an oxygen mask to her gaunt face. A second medic bent down by Albert to check his gunshot wound.
The soldiers that had run to help Van Dyke and Flint were returning now with both men over their shoulders. As soon as they made it to the chopper someone yelled, “Go, go, go!”
As the pilots pulled the bird into the air, he heard a voice say, “He’s gone.”
Van Dyke lowered his head next to the limp form of the sergeant. Flint had taken a round just below the temple. There was nothing anyone could do for him now. Albert closed his eyes and prayed for the man’s soul.
The chopper pulled away from the city, providing a view of the airport. The eastern fence had come down, and thousands of people had streamed inside. Fires raged throughout the camp, and the scene sparked with gunfire.
“It’s a damn warzone down there,” one of the soldiers said as the Black Hawk pulled away into the night sky. “SC Charlotte has fallen.”
CHARLIZE STOOD ON the bottom floor of Central Command with her arms folded across her chest. Dr. Lundy and General Thor flanked her, and President Diego stood in front of them. Everyone was focused on the large, wall-mounted monitor at the front of the room. Her mind was consumed with worry about Albert, but right now she needed to focus on the situation at hand.
On screen, hundreds of ships with Chinese markings were cutting through the water, leaving the shores of China for the United States.
The Chinese government must have been preparing the ships for days if not weeks, knowing that President Diego would likely agree to their offer, and now the fleet had embarked with billions of dollars’ worth of industrial equipment and containers packed full of supplies.
But their help came at a cost. Twenty-five thousand Chinese soldiers were also aboard those ships. Their presence in the United States would bring with it the first occupation force in the history of the country.
Agreeing to China’s terms felt like betraying her country, but the loss of multiple SCs to violence and disease had forced her hand. Word had come in over the night that another SC had fallen just outside Loveland, Colorado, not far from the town of Estes Park. It had been burned to the ground by raiders. The devastating news continued to flood in over the scrambled comm systems.
The war with North Korea might be over, but the United States was losing the fight against its own people. Now they were at the mercy of a foreign government that had long been an uneasy ally at best.
She wasn’t the only one with mixed feelings. The images on screen weren’t received with applause or celebration, but skeptical looks from nearly everyone. Each officer or staff member around her seemed uneasy about the idea of armed Chinese soldiers walking freely around the United States.
As the ships sailed on the screen, President Diego turned and used the opportunity to address the gathered members of his cabinet, his generals, and everyone else that had arrived over the past few weeks. The conversations died down, silence shrouding the Command Center as he began to speak.
“I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that we’re entering a new phase of American history,” Diego said. “A phase that will either lead our country toward a brighter future, or one that will be the end of our republic. Like the Romans and so many other great empires, we’re faced with war, famine, disease, and uncertainty about the future. Every decision we make moving forward will determine if we crumble like the Romans or whether we rebuild and restore the United States of America
.”
Diego paused for a moment, tightened his tie with his still-bandaged hand, and took a moment to scan the faces around him, stopping on Charlize. She offered her support with a brisk nod. Although it pained her, this was the only way to save what was left of their country. She just hoped it didn’t backfire. They couldn’t afford a war against the Chinese.
“I’m confident that the Chinese government and our other allies will help us get back on our feet. This will save countless American lives and put us back on a path to prosperity. I reached this decision with the help of my cabinet, and while I know the decision won’t be popular, I feel it is the correct one. I ask you all to work with me with optimism as we move forward. Together we can be strong, but divided we will not succeed.”
Charlize continued nodding, and soon most everyone in the room was dipping their heads in support. Still, there was no applause.
“Thank you,” Diego said simply.
The moment felt as though the United States had reached a crossroads. One day, perhaps, historians would look on President Diego as a great leader who brought America out of darkness. On the other hand, he might be reviled as the man who sold his country out to China.
Charlize had no way of knowing which way things would turn out. She could only pray that there would be a future where someone was left alive to write those history books.
As everyone went back to work, Colonel Raymond walked over to Charlize and whispered in her ear, “Ma’am, I’ve got news about Albert Randall.”
The words flooded her with the anxiety that had momentarily gone away during Diego’s short speech. She followed Raymond to a conference room and waited for him to shut the door.
“He found his sister. He’s on his way back here via Black Hawk, but Albert was shot, and the sergeant leading the mission was killed,” Raymond said.
Charlize slumped into a chair.“How bad is Albert?”
“He’s going to make it, but his sister is in pretty bad shape. Apparently she was using heroin,” Raymond said.
Charlize closed her eyes as her heart rate began to slow down to normal speed. It wouldn’t be a popular move bringing Jacqueline to Constellation, but she’d made Albert a promise, and she was going to keep it. She hoped the facility’s clinic was prepared to treat a heroin addiction.
“They also rescued a young boy about Ty’s age. A kid named Dave,” Raymond said. “His parents were in D.C. the night of the North Korean attack.”
“Two civilians out of how many?” she mumbled, more to herself than to Raymond.
“Pardon me, ma’am?”
“How many civilians were killed at SC Charlotte?”
Raymond shook his head. “I don’t know yet. At a guess…thousands.”
For a moment neither of them spoke. Charlize ran through the facts in her head. Albert had been shot, but he’d found his sister and he was coming home with a young boy plucked out of the chaos. For the first time in days, she felt conflicted optimism. With the Chinese sailing toward the United States, Charlize had to hold onto the hope that the country could turn things around.
“MS-13 and the Latin Kings appear to be responsible for the organized attack in Charlotte,” Raymond continued. “Perhaps those Chinese soldiers will come in handy.”
Charlize stopped short of nodding. Those gangs weren’t the only domestic terrorists threatening the lives of innocent civilians and the restoration effort at the survival centers. Dan Fenix and his Sons of Liberty were still out there. They wouldn’t slip through her fingers again.
She stood and jerked her chin at the door. “Let’s get back to it, Colonel. We have a lot of work to do.”
Colton didn’t sleep a wink that night. As soon as they got back to the station, Jango led him to the jail cell, where Colton had remained sitting with his back to the wall until the sun came up. It gave him far too much time to think. He’d made some poor decisions, but in the end, each one was made to protect his family, friends, and Estes Park to the best of his abilities.
At the end of the world, a man could only be expected to do so much. Colton had done everything in his power to save those he loved.
And he had failed.
He lowered his head and put his hands on the back of his neck, resisting the urge to scream.
“Hey, friend,” said a voice.
Colton knew it was Clint Bailey, the prisoner across the hallway, but he wasn’t in the mood to talk. He wondered if Clint had suffered a head injury that scrambled brains, or if he’d always been a bit odd. It didn’t matter, really; the man still didn’t know when to shut up.
“I said ‘hey,’” Clint said.
Looking up, Colton glared, ready to snap. But when he saw Clint had suffered another beating during the night, he couldn’t bring himself to yell at the poor bastard. Thompson and his men were animals. In some ways, they were worse than Brown Feather and his brother, because they had the power to commit murder on a much wider scale than the two psychotic Sioux brothers.
Colton lowered his head again, sinking into the hopelessness of his situation.
“It’s okay, friend,” Clint said. “We can help each other.”
The guard at the other end of the hallway let out a long snort and then went back to snoring regularly.
“Don’t give up,” Clint whispered. “We’re going to get out of here, me and you.”
“I’m not giving up,” Colton replied. And to his surprise, he found it was true.
Marcus Colton wasn’t the type of man to quit. Never had been. He had been a soldier and a fighter for most of his life, from the boxing ring to the mountains of Afghanistan. Now wasn’t the time to despair—now was the time to kick some ass and save the people he loved.
He slowly scooted over to the bars, meeting Clint’s eyes. The man may have smiled, but Colton couldn’t tell because of how bruised Clint’s features were.
“Tell me how we can help each other,” Colton said.
Clint scratched at his forehead, then looked to the right. The guard continued snoring down the hallway.
“I know things,” Clint said. “I know their weaknesses, and most importantly, I know how to get out of here.”
Colton paused to think. He was exhausted, and he had no idea if he could trust this man. But what choice did he have? No one was coming to rescue him, and Thompson wasn’t going to just let Colton go. He had to find a way to escape and get back to Estes Park. He wouldn’t let anyone negotiate with Thompson, that was for sure.
He had only one choice. He would have to trust Clint—not just with his own life, but with the lives of everyone else in Estes Park.
“Okay,” Colton said at last. “Tell me everything you know.”
It was noon on the day after Raven had shot Don in the face on the trail near Storm Mountain. The night had been full of ups and downs, but Creek had pulled through. The dog now slept peacefully on the floor of Chief Colton’s office at the police station in Estes Park. After hammering out the terms of an alliance with John Kirkus and his fellow preppers, Raven had returned to Estes Park with Lindsey and Creek earlier that morning.
Raven hadn’t known if anyone would believe him about Don’s betrayal, which was why he let Lindsey do all the talking. While Raven waited for everyone to gather at town hall, he watched Creek sleep.
A patch covered the dog’s eye, and a bandage marked his shoulder where the doctor had removed more pellets. The Akita wouldn’t be back to work anytime soon, but he was alive. Thunderer had told Raven he’d lose more loved ones, but at least the universe hadn’t taken Creek from him. Raven wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep going if that happened.
Instead, he feared that Colton had been lost. Don had seemed certain that the chief wouldn’t be coming home. With Don and Hines dead, Colton missing, and the people they’d lost during the raider attack, the town was defended by a dwindling band of officers and volunteers. Their list of allies was growing thin while their enemies seemed to multiply.
Raven groane
d as he shifted in his chair. Creek wasn’t the only one in bad shape. Raven had scored more cuts and bruises, and he was pretty sure his ear was about to fall off. Aside from the threat of infection, he wasn’t too worried. The injuries were just more scars on his already scarred body. All that mattered was that he was here to fight another day.
A knock on the door made Raven flinch. He turned to see his sister and Allie outside the office. He opened the door, and Sandra reached out to embrace him. She hung back at the last moment and scanned him up and down instead.
“Sam, you look like shi—” Sandra stopped herself from cursing and hugged Raven instead, embracing him in a bear hug that made him groan even louder.
Sandra pulled away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt...” her words trailed off again when she saw Creek stir on the floor, tail wagging.
“Oh my God,” Sandra said.
“Stay down, and don’t try and move, boy,” Raven said.
Creek rested his head back on the ground, his tail still whipping the carpet.
“What the heck happened to you guys?” Sandra asked.
Raven put his hands in his pockets. “It’s a long story. Don ambushed me and Lindsey at Storm Mountain. Apparently Don was behind the burning of the Stanley Hotel, and he also betrayed Colton by sending him to Fort Collins.”
“Allie, stay here with Creek,” Sandra said. She put her hand on Raven’s shoulder and turned him around, directing him into the hallway.
Great, another lecture.
Creek’s remaining eye followed Raven out of the room.
“It’s okay, boy, I’ll be right back,” Raven said over his shoulder.
As soon as they stepped into the hallway, footfalls sounded and Lindsey rounded the corner. She forced a smile and said, “Hey, Sandra.”
Sandra didn’t return the friendly gesture. “One of you needs to tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Detective, would you like to answer that?” Raven replied.
Trackers 3: The Storm (A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller) Page 24