The animal’s ears flicked, and it focused dark eyes on Raven just as the arrow hit its chest. His aim was true, and the arrow struck it in the heart, killing the buck instantly. The creature collapsed on the ground, kicking once with a muscle spasm.
Snake and Badger were on the move before the deer went limp. Raven followed them out into meadow, where the sun hit his skin. But even the radiant glow couldn’t take away the freezing chill that seemed to be gripping his bones.
He got down on his knees next to the dead deer, praying again for the gods’ forgiveness. The two Nunnehi warriors looked over at him, and he grabbed the bone handle of his sheathed buck knife. He’d use the blade to carve the deer and cut out the tongue to throw into a fire for sacrifice. The Cherokee used all parts of the deer but the sinews and hamstrings, which were left in respect for the spirit.
Raven got right to work, expertly skinning the deer, while Snake and Badger stood to watch. The sun slipped behind the clouds over their shoulders, and darkness suddenly spread over the land. The purple and blue flowers vanished, and a snowy wasteland took their place. When Raven looked back at the deer, it was nothing but bones.
The Nunnehi warriors both dipped their chiseled jaws.
“The hunt is over,” Snake said.
Badger pointed to the east. “You must go now, Raven. An enemy is coming. Only you can stop this evil.”
Raven blinked, and the world changed again. In a split second, the warriors disappeared, along with the bones, but the wintery landscape remained. The moon was high in the night sky, and there was a small fire near his body. The wood was burning, but he could hardly feel any warmth. In fact, he could hardly feel anything at all.
Someone was hovering over him, but his vision was too blurred to make out the face. He saw other shapes, and then felt something furry against his cheek.
He snapped alert as he abruptly remembered his fight with the mountain lion. The beast was a few feet away, yellow eyes open and staring at him.
Raven let out a gasp of icy air and reached up, grabbing the arm of the person hovering over him.
“Raven, it’s me. It’s Sandra,” said a voice.
Dale and Colton were there too, both of them looking at Raven with wide eyes.
“He killed a damn mountain lion,” Dale said, laughing.
“Raven,” Sandra said, snapping her fingers in front of his face to draw his attention.
He focused on her and smiled. “Hey, sis.”
She batted a tear away and snorted. “This is the last time I’m coming after you, Sam Spears.”
_____
Charlize and Colonel Raymond walked along the edge of Central Park with their Green Beret escorts. Aside from the military company, this moment reminded her of the time she had strolled through the gardens with her husband. It seemed like just yesterday that Richard and Charlize had spent the better part of a Sunday walking through the park and eating at a local seafood and chip restaurant. Those had been happy times, and Charlize wished she’d appreciated them more in the moment.
But today she wasn’t here for leisure. She was here to check out the final location on the list President Diego had given her of potential places for the White House, and to meet with the Chinese delegation one last time.
“There it is,” Raymond said, pointing at the building situated on the corner of Fifth Avenue. Crews had restored power here just days earlier, and most of the windows of the Plaza Hotel were lit up.
Charlize took a moment to appreciate the architecture, which imitated a medieval French château. Hundreds of windows with gold trim provided guests with a panoramic view of Central Park. A green arched roof crested the white building.
“It’s big, but that could be a good thing,” Charlize said. “We need to house all the branches of government that were lost in D.C., so if we are able to contract with the current owners, we could use this as our central hub during the recovery efforts.”
“Let’s take a look inside,” Raymond said.
The street had been completely cleared of stranded vehicles and snow, and they crossed easily. Several NYPD officers mounted on horses patrolled the area. The sidewalks weren’t as busy as they would have been two months ago, but there were still pedestrians. They weren’t tourists, though. These people were all on a mission.
Charlize was impressed by the grandeur of the hotel. It would make a beautiful place for the seat of the federal government, but strategically, it would be difficult to defend.
A representative of the Chinese delegation waited in the lobby, which was decorated with ornamented pillars and archways, a marble floor, and gold fixtures. Charlize followed her escorts down a hallway and took the elevator to the tenth floor, where they were led to a meeting room.
Inside sat General Lin and two staffers, an older man with gray hair and glasses, and a woman around Charlize’s age. She remembered them from the United Nations building.
“Good to see you again, Secretary Montgomery,” Lin said, rising to his feet. You’ve already met Wan Shi and Liu Yaping.”
“Yes,” Charlize said. “Nice to see you.”
Wan and Liu both bowed, and Lin gestured for Charlize to take a seat. She and Raymond took up positions across from General Lin.
“I’m connecting us to Constellation,” Liu said. She swiveled a laptop screen so everyone in the room could see it. Between the working lights and the internet connection, for a fleeting moment it almost seemed like things were back to normal. President Diego’s face emerged on the monitor a moment later, reminding her things were far from normal.
“Good afternoon,” he said.
“Good afternoon, Mr. President,” Lin said.
“How are you liking the Plaza Hotel?” Diego asked.
“It is a beautiful building,” Lin said.
“Not my favorite on your list, sir, for strategic reasons,” Charlize said.
“I’m looking forward to talking more when you get back,” Diego said. “In the meantime, we have a few other items to discuss. Water supply has become the biggest problem in the survival centers.”
That got her attention. Charlize had expected the meeting to start with the attack in Charlotte, where Albert and Captain Harris were currently monitoring a mission to re-take the city.
“Bringing the water treatment centers back online has been one of our main priorities since we landed,” Lin said.
“Doctor Price is spearheading the effort, but we’re going to need your help, General,” Diego said.
“Liu will connect with Doctor Price as soon as possible,” Lin said. “We are painfully aware of how important—”
A raucous boom cut the general off before he could finish. The entire room shook, and a piece of gold trim fell to the floor. For a moment, everyone just sat there, rattled and confused.
“Was that an explosion?” Diego asked.
“One moment, sir,” Raymond said.
A fire alarm rang out, and then a second boom snapped Charlize into action. The noise was definitely an explosion.
Both of the doors swung open, and Sergeant Fugate entered. “Everyone stay calm, but we need to move.”
Two of the Chinese soldiers posted in the hallway moved over to General Lin, speaking in Mandarin. The two groups left together for the hallway and were led to a stairwell opposite to the one where they had come in.
“What the hell is going on?” Raymond asked.
“The building is under attack,” Fugate said. He stopped and held up his radio as it squawked.
“Multiple contacts,” said the voice on the channel. “Shooters on the west and east sides of the building.” There was a pause, with more white noise. Then the speaker came back and said, “Hunker down until we can figure out the safest way to get you out of there.”
Faint but rapid gunfire sounded in the distance. This was a multi-stage attack, Charlize realized. First bombs, now shooters. But who would mount such a brazen attack on a relatively secure building?
“
This way,” Fugate said. He hurried down the hall, rifle shouldered, while the other Green Berets held rear guard. The two Chinese soldiers flanking the officials followed close behind.
The group moved into a stairwell and was instructed to stay put. Fugate pulled out his radio again to listen to the chatter. One of the Chinese soldiers was doing the same thing. The clash of languages made it incredibly difficult to hear anything. From what Charlize could make out, the attack had started when vehicles broke through a barrier a block away.
The gunfire continued below, echoing up the stairwell, getting closer by the minute. General Lin stood next to Charlize. If the man was frightened, he sure didn’t show it. He had his fingers wrapped around a pistol. Both of his soldiers were iron-faced, emotionless. Even Liu and Wan appeared undeterred by the violence.
Fugate lowered the radio and jerked his chin up the stairwell. “We’re headed to the roof. It’s the only way out of here. The building is being overrun.”
He looked to Staff Sergeant Thoreau, the kid with peach fuzz on his face, who stood below Charlize.
“Thoreau, you and Sammie cover our escape,” Fugate said.
Thoreau nodded at Fugate, and then at Charlize, before moving back down the stairs with the other soldier.
“Good luck,” Charlize whispered.
“Let’s go,” Fugate said.
The climb to the rooftop took five minutes. Fugate opened the roof access door, and then moved out with two of his men to clear the area. He returned a moment later and ushered everyone outside.
The cracks and pops coming from the street below told her the fight was far from over. The sound of a chopper rose over the din of gunfire. To the west, a Black Hawk was coming in fast.
“Come on!” Fugate shouted. He waved them over to the center of the roof. The pilots would have to hover, since there was no place to put down here.
Fugate and his men all raised their rifles and pointed them at the open doorway while Raymond, General Lin, and his staff moved over to where the pilots were lowering the chopper.
Charlize paused to listen. It sounded as if a battle was being waged inside the stairwell where Thoreau and Sammie had remained. The rotor drafts hit her, whipping her jacket violently. The pilots got as close to the roof as possible, and then the crew chief reached down to help Charlize into the bird. General Lin went next, with Liu and Wan following.
The two Chinese soldiers remained below with the Green Berets, all of them still pointing their weapons at the doorway. It swung open just as Colonel Raymond climbed into the troop hold, and an American soldier stumbled onto the roof, blood soaking his right arm and parts of his neck. It was Sammie, Charlize realized. So where was Thoreau?
The young man yelled something at Fugate before crashing to the ground. The leader of the Green Berets turned and waved the pilots off before turning back to help Sammie and drag him away.
The bird pulled away from the roof, ascending quickly. Charlize watched as the Green Berets and Chinese soldiers took up defensive positions with their rifles aimed at the closed door. The pilots banked to the west, providing a view of the chaos below.
The warped black hull of a vehicle burned in front of the destroyed lobby. The once-white façade had caved in. A black field of debris surrounded the outside of the building, and on the rim of the destruction were dozens of bodies. Most of them seemed to be wearing blue and green uniforms.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” Raymond asked.
Charlize managed to nod, but she was still breathing heavily. She tried to catch her breath as the chopper pulled away, leaving the terror behind. Charlize caught a glimpse of the One World Trade Center as the pilots flew to safety. With the Plaza Hotel in ruins, it would most likely become the new site of the White House.
But she wasn’t so sure New York was the best choice for the seat of government after all. Whoever had attacked the Plaza had done so in a coordinated and brutal way. Nowhere was safe anymore.
15
FENIX TOOK A sip of whiskey. The liquid both warmed and cooled his throat.
“Damn, that’s good sauce,” he said.
Sergeant Horton raised his glass. “To the general!”
“To the general!” shouted a dozen men.
The twelve Brandenburger Commandos brought their glasses together, the clank echoing through the concrete bunker. The soldiers downed their glasses and then began filing out of the armory, where they were celebrating their newest addition—a dozen crates of weapons, explosives, and fully automatic weapons.
Fenix continued to admire the stacked boxes around him. Every bullet would help him accomplish his goal of taking Colorado back from the bureaucrats and the Chinese invaders.
He downed the rest of his glass and wiped his lips with a sleeve as the footfalls of the men who would help him succeed in this mission faded down the hallway. They were headed back to the central gathering, where a game of poker and more liquor awaited.
Horton, however, remained behind. He flashed a sly grin at Fenix and patted one of the crates.
“We’re almost ready to fight our crusade against the insurgents,” Horton said. “Just a few more raids like the one today, and we’ll have everything we need.”
Fenix found his lips cracking into a smile as well. The thought of the coming fight gave him chills, and the whiskey warming his stomach only helped intensify the feeling.
“We’re going to take our country back,” Fenix said.
“Damn straight, sir.” Horton’s smile widened, revealing perfectly white teeth.
Fenix wasn’t used to seeing the hardened war hero showing so much emotion. Most of the time, it was difficult to get him to laugh at a joke.
“I couldn’t have done any of this without you, Sarge.”
It wasn’t often he gave praise, but this time it was well deserved. Over the past three weeks, the Brandenburger Commandos had freed Fenix from captivity, taken out Nile Redford and stolen his supplies, and successfully hit three Chinese convoys. On top of that, they had doubled the Sons of Liberty numbers and opened up three new bases in Colorado.
They were now at their new headquarters at Titan Missile Silo, the abandoned Cold War facility Sergeant Horton had taken over just days after the North Korean attack. It was located east of Denver, about an hour drive from the Rocky Mountains.
Tonight, the men were taking a break to celebrate their wins. It was time for the soldiers to sit back, drink, and relax. For Fenix, though, there was never time to relax. He had already lost enough time in Redford’s prison cell. Besides, Fenix was expecting company shortly.
He walked into the command center, where his men were starting a game of poker at the metal table. Beer cans littered the area where maps had been earlier. Horton watched with his arms folded across his chest while Fenix poured whiskey from a bottle into his flask.
“Have fun, gentlemen,” Fenix said, raising the flask.
“Not staying to lose your money, sir?” asked one of the men.
“Maybe next time.” Fenix grinned, took a slug, and retreated to his quarters, deciding he didn’t want to be too drunk when his new friends arrived.
When he got to his small room, he propped his feet up and nursed the flask in silence, listening to the hum of the generators. The noise was calming, and he rested his eyes.
Sometime later, he woke up and looked at his watch, cursing when he saw the time. He had to get topside, and fast. He hurried back to the area where his men were still playing cards. Two of them were shouting over a hand. Horton was standing between them to intervene. All three of them stood to attention when they saw Fenix. The room went silent.
“What the hell are you waiting for, Sergeant?” Fenix asked. “Are you ready or what?”
“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I lost track of time.”
Fenix gestured for the men to return to their game. Normally he would have broken balls, but not tonight. These men deserved a break. They needed it. Even Nazis could get burned out on killing.
Miles stiffened and raised his baldhead when he saw Fenix and Horton approaching.
“Good evening, sir,” Miles said. A patch dotted with blood covered the new tattoo on his neck. The tattoo gun was getting passed around at their base a lot these days.
Horton opened a small metal hatch that allowed him to peer outside. After a quick scan, he closed it and opened the door, letting in a gust of cold air. Fenix offered Miles the flask.
“Thank you, sir, but I’m on duty,” Miles said.
“It’s okay,” Fenix said, holding it out again.
Miles hesitated, took a slug, and passed it back to Fenix. The two men drank while they waited. A few minutes later, Horton returned.
“They’re here,” Horton said.
Fenix put his flask back into his pocket, then pulled out a cap and slapped it over his thick, slicked-back hair. He stepped out into the frigid air, taking in a breath to remind himself what freedom tasted like.
Horton continued down a rocky path leading around a bluff. Three more guards were posted at the end of the trail, crouched behind a rocky wall with their rifles and night vision goggles. They were all focused on the silhouette of a single pickup about a quarter mile away.
“That’s them, sir,” Horton said.
“They came alone,” one of the sentries reported.
“Good, but watch our backs,” Fenix said to the other men. He set off around the lookout with Horton following. The moon was out tonight, spreading a soft glow over the white landscape. He wasn’t worried about an ambush, but he was always wary. Secretary Montgomery was still on his trail, and wouldn’t give up until he was dead or in captivity. That’s what made tonight’s meeting so important.
Trackers 4: The Damned (A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series) Page 17