by JT Sawyer
Pete handed Travis the two-way radio and took the binoculars. He radioed Crawford, then waited for a response, making sure to keep the volume low. “Go ahead, Young Pup,” said Crawford’s voice on the other end.
“Bulldog One, we just made visual contact with four Blackhawks that landed a mile northeast of downtown,” said Travis. “The helos were loaded with crates of what I’m guessing were weapons—and lots of ’em. And their leader was some kind of para-military type, by the looks of it.”
The voice on the other end was silent. “Do you copy, Bulldog One?” said Travis, but more silence ensued.
“Do you copy?”
“Roger that,” Crawford said, with trepidation in his voice. “Expect inbound movement sooner than expected. I’ll be in communication at 0630 to confirm.”
“Copy that; Young Pup out.”
As Travis was stowing the radio in his pack, he heard the sound of approaching vehicles. The two vehicles that they had seen in the field were coming to a halt in front of the heavily barred entrance tunnel. He could make out the woman sitting in the passenger’s side of the lead vehicle. The two bikers standing guard yanked open the large metal grates as the vehicles pulled into the shadow of the cement passage.
“The pieces of the puzzle are starting to come together,” he whispered to Pete as he focused his eyes on the bikers below. “When dawn arrives, I want you to help me take out these guys here and then I’m going into the tunnel.”
“All by yourself, tough guy? I’m not remaining behind because of my little head scratch,” said Pete.
“Actually, you’re gonna stay here and be Crawford’s eyes and ears. If I don’t make it back out in time, you’ll need to guide him and his men to the Blackhawks. Those helos have to be taken out or this battle is doomed from the start.”
With night approaching, they retreated into the forest, away from the rim, which was already turning into a cold sink as the temperature fell. After scanning the area for zombies and bikers, they found a thick grove of pine trees that would provide them with concealment and ample shelter material. Without the benefit of sleeping bags, they had to employ the age-old technique of making an improvised bed from debris. They moved to a cluster of fallen trees and scooped up generous armloads of pine needles, placing them in massive heaps against the fallen skeleton of a large ponderosa pine. With a foot of debris in place, Pete took out a poncho and laid it over the three-foot-wide bed, then both men piled a few feet of additional needles on top of this. When it was complete, they both climbed under the improvised blanket.
“This survival spooning method would be a lot better if you were a woman,” said Pete.
“Yeah, I agree, amigo—especially with your snoring,” chuckled Travis.
“Sure as hell beats getting hypothermia, though. I liked it better in the desert where the nighttime temps are still above freezing.”
“I’ll make sure to get you back to your warm hotel bed in Jerome just as soon as I can,” said Travis.
“Hey, I only got to stay there one night, unlike someone else, who was sharing a small room with a lovely woman.”
“Ay, Katy is lovely indeed,” Travis said, staring up beyond the branches to the emerging stars.
“Why didn’t you ever let her know how you felt—I mean, all the time you two spent together and all you could do was show her how to handle an AK?”
“Yeah, well, long-term relationships and I don’t gel together very well. Sooner or later, I just get too abrasive for most women.”
“I think Katy already knows what a prickly son-of-a-bitch you can be, my friend. If you want my advice, I’d say stick it out with her. In case you hadn’t noticed, life ain’t gonna be gettin’ any easier, and having a fine woman by your side is a good way to greet the sunrise each day.” Pete yawned, then turned over on his side and burrowed further into the pine needles.
As Travis lay on his back, trying to get comfortable on the pokey bed, he stared up at the Milky Way. He thought about Katy’s long golden hair, her soft shoulders, and jade-green eyes. How those eyes could flash like emerald lightning when she was upset with him, or soothe him when he was agitated. His own eyes were drooping with fatigue, and he managed to gaze up one last time at the hazy white ribbon of stars painted in a band across the sky. He took a deep breath of cold air and then drifted to sleep.
Chapter 6
Once Crawford had received the news about the Blackhawks, he sent out word that the timeline for the assault on Flagstaff was being moved up. He gathered his unit commanders and broke the news. “Instead of happening in two days, we must move tonight, under the aid of darkness. I need each team to get into place and commence attacking the ground elements after my group disables the Blackhawks. Without the latter removed from the equation, we will sacrifice our tactical advantage and risk losing everything we’ve fought for up to this point.”
After he was finished, Crawford told each of them to rally their teams and have everyone assemble in front of the steps of the Grand Hotel. There wasn’t much time. The citizens there already knew what was physically expected of them, but Crawford knew that this bumped-up timeline was going to cause jitters, and he had to mentally prepare everyone for the grueling ordeal ahead.
He stood on the faded wooden porch with his wife, sons, and senior leaders standing beside him. Clara, who was standing to his right wearing a weathered oilskin coat, placed her hand over his. “Last year at this time, I remember you, me, and the boys were packing our horses for an elk hunt in the mountains,” she said. “Now, here we are preparing for a different kind of hunt that may change the course of everyone’s lives.”
Crawford glanced at the windswept mesas to the east. A deep furrow, etched by squinting into the horizon over many decades, ran across his forehead as he contemplated the next few days. “This land, and maybe just life itself, almost seems to demand that we scratch and claw our way to the top to stay alive. Sometimes it feels like this virus was nature’s way of knocking us down a few pegs so we’d remember we’re just another animal in the scheme of things.”
“The only animals right now are the ones in Flagstaff, and hopefully by tomorrow those parasites will no longer be a concern of ours,” she said.
He looked at her and let out a half-smile. “Spoken like the wise woman I married.”
With the crowd assembled below, Crawford raised his hands for everyone to grow silent, and then he spoke.
“In less than three hours, we will join our brethren to the north and you will be launching the largest battle on foot in these parts since the Apache Campaigns over a century ago.” He paused, looking over the people before him—men and women of all ages, teenagers, children holding on to a parent’s hand—all their eyes fixed upon him. “There are no longer any divisions between us from our old lives. Whether you were a rancher, a computer programmer, nurse, mechanic, or teacher, whether you are young or old—we are all united as warriors fighting for our freedom, our homeland, and the right to survive.” He raised both hands and his voice echoed throughout the street. “And tomorrow, after we have rid Flagstaff of its vermin, we will forge a new Arizona and begin living in a world where the threat of tyranny is no more. This is the day that we declare who we are as human beings and take control of our future.”
The crowd thrust their hands and weapons in the air as the street below the hotel erupted in a passionate fervor.
“Return to your individual units and prepare to leave by midnight. Each of my unit commanders will give you your team’s rendezvous coordinates.”
In the ensuing hours, Jerome had nearly emptied of every able-bodied man, woman, and youth who could use a firearm. Only small children, the very old, or the disabled stayed behind, leaving the hillside mining community to return to its former ghost-town appearance. The remaining fuel supplies had been depleted with the outfitting of four dozen trucks and the two Bell helicopters. The truck convoy would travel north and rendezvous with the contingent of fighters in the Oak Creek st
ronghold near Sedona. This location would also be the site of a field hospital for treating the wounded. The Winslow group would come in from the east, striking at the appointed time.
The helos carried Crawford and his best shooters, along with a former Blackhawk pilot who had served many stints in the Middle East. Their sole mission was to link up with Pete, who would guide them in, surreptitiously, to the helicopters so they could disable those before the main assault from the south and east commenced.
As Crawford flew off, he could see the long ribbon of trucks below in the meager starlight. He tried to make out which one his sons and wife were in, but the image was too faint. He turned and glanced over his shoulder at the warm lights emanating from Jerome, and wondered what the next day would bring—who would survive and who would soon die. There’s nothing more uncertain or unpredictable in life than combat, even when you think you’ve got an advantage. Too many damn variables to control, not to mention the RAMs. When have soldiers in the past ever had to add the undead into tactical considerations? All my years of experience will come to fruition in the next few hours, but I’d still take a healthy dose of luck on my side any day.
Chapter 7
When the first orange slivers of dawn emerged, a thick layer of frost on the improvised pine-needle shelter began melting off. Travis slithered out from the thick bed and did a quick survey of the surrounding forest to make sure they were alone. Then he pulled out his water bottles, which he had buried in the debris layer beside him to prevent them from freezing. After taking a swig of the cold liquid, he pulled out some strands of jerky and bit off a hunk, then handed a piece to Pete, who had just emerged from the pine-needle cocoon.
Travis pulled the radio out of his pack and turned it on. “Bulldog One, do you copy, over?”
After a few seconds of static, he heard Crawford reply. “Go ahead, Young Pup.”
“Nothing new to report here. Checking in on the updated timeline.”
“Troop mobilization has commenced already. Truck convoys are unloaded and in place. My team will rendezvous with you at 0900 at the LZ we dropped you at originally.”
“Copy that,” said Travis. He turned the radio off and looked at Pete. “Let the games begin.” He grabbed his pack and AK, which was resting alongside the shelter. “I want to recon the tunnel entrance and, if the numbers are the same as last night, then dispatch any bad guys and make my way in.”
They headed back over to the canyon rim, creeping between some currant bushes. Thirty yards away, by the tunnel entrance, were two armed bikers standing watch.
He leaned over towards Pete. “At this distance, I can dispatch those guys with my suppressed Glock using headshots, but there’s going to be little room for error. If one of them manages to get away and sound an alarm, the element of surprise is lost, so I’m gonna need you to be ready with your pistol, just in case.”
Pete nodded and removed his Glock, which had a similar suppressor, while Travis got into a kneeling position. Travis rested an elbow on his knee to steady his aim, while Pete squatted with his pistol in a low-ready position. The first shot struck the bearded man on his left cheek, sending him spinning back onto his bike, which toppled over. Before the skinny man next to him could respond, Travis fired two rounds, hitting him in the neck and lower jaw.
As Travis exhaled in relief, he saw a third biker step out from behind a large tree beside a bend in the road. The big, bearded man was zipping up his pants as he walked down the trail to the tunnel, calling in the direction of the two dead men. “You guys stop making so much fucking noise. You’ll bring zombies down on us and I’m not doing any more fucking mop-up duties, haulin’ their rotting corpses away.”
“Shit, here comes Murphy’s Law,” Travis whispered, readying his pistol. The trees were too thick to get off a clean shot, and he would have to wait until the biker was nearly on top of his two dead friends. As the goon cleared the terminus where the road met the tunnel, he saw the bodies. The man reached for the M4 hanging off his shoulder as two rounds struck him in the back of the head, sending him reeling over onto the slumped men below.
Travis waited to exhale this time, straining for any sound or movement in the canyon below. He eased his grip off the pistol and then did a tactical reload, swapping out the magazines. He glanced back at Pete, who was staring wide-eyed at him. “You OK?” said Travis.
“Anything you’re not good at, my friend?”
“Yeah—marriage,” he said with a deep exhale. “Now, remember, Crawford is counting on you to lead him and his team to the helos. Lay low here for a while and then make your way over to the LZ. I’ll catch you on the back side, if this all goes as planned.”
Travis took off his pack and handed it to Pete. “I’ve got my med kit, water, and spare mags on me, so take the rest of this gear in case you need it. Runnin’ and gunnin’ is a lot easier when you’re not loaded like a pack mule.” He patted his friend on the shoulder, then slid down the smooth slab of rock below him and ran to the tunnel entrance.
He pulled the gate key-ring off the bearded man and searched through their gear for additional magazines. Then he removed the padlock on the iron-gate over the entrance. The rusty metal hinges moaned as he yanked both sides open. He swung his AK into position and then moved inside, secreting himself against the damp wall. He moved through the circular tunnel, which was littered with leaves and crushed beer cans. Overhead were broken light bulbs and a line of conduit that ran the length of the blackened ceiling. The tunnel smelled of an odd blend of mold and gas fumes.
A hundred yards past the entrance, Travis could see the vehicles. The sunlight streaming in behind him was faint, but he could make out the empty beds of both trucks. They didn’t waste any time getting those crates out. I wonder when the fireworks show is supposed to begin?
As he maneuvered past the abandoned vehicles, he scanned the muddy drainage for tracks. The boot prints all went to the left, ending at a set of concrete steps that led up to a heavy steel door. He could see a faint light shining in beyond the hinges. Travis ascended and slowly turned the rusty metal door knob with one hand while he steadied his AK with the other.
Chapter 8
Nikki was leaning over a metal table in the subterranean chamber beneath the university grounds. Beside her was a tall man with a thick goatee, who was furiously typing on a laptop. “Are you sure we’re supposed to get satellite imagery this morning?” said the man, his arms sheathed in a black tactical vest.
“I was just notified on my laptop that the satellite was being retasked as we speak. Then we can finally obtain the numbers of the resistance and hammer out our plans for the assault,” said Nikki.
The silver elevator doors opened behind them and Enrique stepped out with four of Nikki’s armed men beside him. Enrique was dressed in his usual vest, leather skullcap, and biker boots, while Nikki’s men had on black tactical gear, body armor, and MP-5s.
“Have you distributed the weapons to your men?” she asked, glancing at Enrique and then back at the laptop, anxiously awaiting the screen to pull up images of the surrounding region.
“Yes, mi hombres are preparing everything for our assault on the ranchers to the south in two days,” he said in a low grumble, while balling his fists behind him.
Nikki folded her muscular arms and turned to look him directly in the eyes. “We will attack the Sedona group first with the aid of the helos, and then sweep south to Jerome afterwards,” she said.
“And when this is done, my obligations to you are finished, yes?” Enrique said, his facial muscles quivering as he oscillated between excitement and rage.
“This is our last big hoorah, sugar. After this, you get a new empire to rule over and I get to go home. For now, return to your command post and await further instructions. I will have satellite intel for you shortly.”
Enrique nodded and walked into the elevator with one of Nikki’s men, while the other three guards headed off into the corridor opposite the elevator.
Ni
kki glared back at the computer operator. “Anytime, nerd,” she said, while tapping her slender fingers on the edge of the table.
“I can only do so much. I’m waiting on our group on the other end to make this happen. Until then, we’ll have to wait it out—satellites take time to redeploy once they’ve been commandeered like this.”
Nikki began clenching and releasing her grip on the edge of the steel table. She needed this intel so she could commence the attack on the ranchers and be done with this leg of her mission. She was tired of living in the dank confines of the subterranean chamber, searching for Pearson, and holding the reins of an army of criminals who seemed solely bent on internal rivalries and draining the city’s dwindling supply of liquor.
She had her own reasons for undertaking this operation, and it had nothing to do with rising higher through the ranks of the nefarious organization she had grown to despise. She ran her hands through her fine, dark hair and took a deep breath. Her mind raced back to the early days, before the viral outbreak was too widespread. She was ready to disappear off the radar for good then, no longer beholden to shadow governments or clandestine agencies. Her plans were meticulously laid in place and the passage to the remote Marshall Islands in the Pacific would ensure a fresh start, away from the terror that was about to sweep across the world. She was going to flee with the only person in her life whom she could trust, her older sister. The day before their plans to depart, Marina had succumbed to the virus. Nikki’s employers were the only ones to turn to, and she had found herself drawn back into the tangled agenda of the people who had wrought destruction on humanity. With her sister in an induced coma, Nikki’s loyalty to the agency was ensured. Marina would be kept in stasis until the vaccine was found, after which Nikki would be released from her obligations. She felt indebted to her sister. Marina was the sole reason Nikki had survived her horrific childhood, and she had been Nikki’s shield against their father’s nightly abusive rage.