The Shift: Book II of the Wildfire Saga

by Marcus Richardson

  “We gotta do something,” said Mike.

  Cooper gripped his rifle tighter. If they started a firefight, he and Mike might be able to take out at least a few Germans in the confusion. That would even the odds, but there were a lot of civilians—collateral damage would be a foregone conclusion.

  “Coop,” urged Mike. “We can’t ignore this…”

  Cooper considered his options—if something where to happen and they missed their shot at Boatner—or God forbid, Boatner got caught in the crossfire…millions of lives would be lost to the flu. He clenched his jaw and aimed his rifle at the back of the German. Are the lives of these civilians worth risking the lives millions around the world? Maybe billions?

  Another scream. This one had the high pitch only little kids can create. Fuck it, Mike’s right—we can’t walk away from this Boatner might not even be here.

  Cooper lifted his foot off the step and prepared to assault the first floor landing when Charlie's voice broke in over the radio: "Runner! We got a runner out the back door!"

  Cooper brought up his HUD map and watched the blinking blue dot that represented Charlie move away from the target building down a side street. His XO was hauling ass. He was about to ask for a sitrep when he heard panting, scuffling, and then a muffled grunt followed by someone moaning.

  “Got ‘im,” reported Charlie.

  On instinct, Cooper motioned with his hand down by his side for Mike to watch their retreat. Mike tapped him on the right hip twice in silent confirmation and the two SEALs backpedaled down the stairs, around the corner, and into the dark shadows of the interior of the building.

  Jesus, Cooper thought, we got him. He blinked and focused on the back of the German. The invader swung the butt of his rifle and Cooper heard the sickening crunch of someone hitting the floor. We can stop this.

  A gunshot rang out down the hall and the German returned fire. Cooper’s finger started to apply pressure on the trigger. Every moment he had sweated and strained and suffered through during BUD/S had been to teach him that his sole purpose on the earth from henceforth was to defend America and her citizens. Right there in front of him, not six feet away, foreign aggressors were assaulting Americans, in Boston—the very cradle of America. He could hear his instructors screaming at him: Take the shot Braaten!

  But Brenda’s face returned to haunt him—she was back in Denver, doing everything she could to fight the weaponized flu—the real enemy. If he jeopardized Boatner’s escape by starting a firefight…

  "We can't let these people fight off the Germans by themselves…" said Mike. He turned and looked up the stairs, like a dog straining to be let off the leash.

  "Coop!" called Charlie, "I got confirmation of our HVT—repeat: I have the HVT."

  Cooper felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. He never took his eyes off the German—his rifle never wavered from center mass, pointed right at the soldier’s back. All he had to do was apply a few more ounces of pressure to the trigger. He closed his eyes and removed his finger from the trigger.

  “Back up,” he said, his voice hoarse.

  "I don't like this," hissed Mike. “We can take ‘em…”

  You don’t get the big picture. God, I almost blew it. Cooper blinked the sweat from his eyes. "I don’t like it either, but mission first. We got to get Boatner out of here." Cooper waved for Mike to back down the hallway. “Team One, moving.”

  “Dammit,” growled Mike.

  Above them more gunshots crackled and muzzle flashes made the stairwell look like it had been lit by a strobe light. More people screamed and they could heard people running above them.

  "We’re out of time," Cooper said. He turned toward the rear exit of the building and pushed Mike from behind. "Move! We gotta be ghosts!"

  He switched frequencies: "Jax, make sure that truck is ready to roll!"

  “Loading now."

  Cooper and Mike burst from the emergency exit at the rear of the building and immediately spotted the captured German truck across the alley. "Go, go, go!" he said, shoving Mike forward. Cooper turned and leveled his rifle at the door as he backpedaled toward the truck. He didn't take his eyes off the emergency exit until he climbed into the rear of the German truck and held on as they left the scene.

  “Coop, can I get a word?” asked Mike.

  He knew what was coming. “Switch to two.” Cooper switched to a private frequency and waited for Mike to speak. He replayed the events on the staircase through his mind again. Could he have done anything different? Was there something he missed? Could they have gotten Boatner and taken out that squad? Cooper closed his eyes. He longed for the days when he could just carry out orders, instead of having to make decisions that sealed the fates of innocents.

  “That was bullshit—”

  Cooper opened his eyes and scanned the streets behind them as the truck weaved around some uncollected garbage in the road. “Yeah, it sure as hell was. But we got Boatner and now we need to get the hell out of Dodge.” The bitterness in his voice was matched by the bile in his throat. That kid’s scream echoed in his mind. He could have stopped the Germans. He could have saved that kid.

  “I don’t understand why we couldn’t help those people,” badgered Mike. “We had the drop on that kraut and you know we could’ve taken out the rest of his squad—”

  Cooper shook his head. Mike still didn’t get it. “Maybe. Probably. Look, I wanted to take them out just as bad as you, all right? I’m sick to my stomach that I didn’t pull the trigger—”

  “Runnin’ away is a funny way to show it.”

  Cooper ignored the jibe. Mike could get that way when he was in a bad mood. It was never personal. “But if we engaged the whole mission could be compromised.”

  “I just don’t understand—”

  “I don’t need you to understand, I need you to follow orders,” Cooper said in a voice only slightly more harsh than he’d wanted. “We’re not here to save every fucking person in Boston. We’re here to save Boatner—so he can save the fucking world. I’m talking billions of lives. You get me, sailor?”

  “I know, but—”

  “Do you? God damn it, Beaver, I said ‘go’ and still needed to push you down the stairs,” Cooper replied in a cold voice. Mike was hardly the first SEAL he’d reprimanded for something over the course of his career, but he’d never suspected Mike would be the one to hesitate over a direct order. His anger rose. “I will not do that again. Understood?”

  “Hooyah,” said Mike. He understood all right, but he wouldn’t make it easy on Cooper.

  Cooper and Mike sat in the cargo area with the rear hatch up. The radio mounted on the dash of the German truck squawked to life and excited voices chattered back and forth.

  Charlie’s voice cut in on their private channel. "If you two are ready to kiss and make up, Jerry just announced the driver's been killed and this truck’s been stolen. They're looking for us."

  "Probably got a GPS beacon in this thing," muttered Swede. "We do on ours."

  “Fuck, is everybody listening in?” growled Mike.

  “Uh…yeah,” replied Swede’s voice, as if he were stating an obvious fact. “For what it’s worth, I’m with you, Beaver. I think we should’ve lit those assholes up.”

  “Damn it, Swede! Why didn’t you say something?” demanded Mike.

  “I didn’t wanna get chewed out by Coop—I ain’t stupid.”

  "Shut up, guys,” said Cooper through clenched teeth. “We don’t have time for this goatfuck. Jax—drop us off at the rendezvous point and take Jerry on a wild goose chase.”

  "You got it.”

  “You think this thing’s got a GPS tracker?” asked Swede.

  “The fuck should I know?” replied Mike in a sullen voice.

  Cooper ignored the banter and rested his arms on the rear seat. He stared at the green-tinted face of a scared civilian. "Dr. Boatner? Dr. Maurice Boatner?"

  "Yes…who are you people?"

  Cooper killed his NVG and tur
ned off the polarization on his visor. The HUD illuminated his face through the now-clear visor so Boatner could see him. Cooper extended his hand. "Cooper Braaten, U.S. Navy. We’re gonna get you to safety, sir."

  Sirens split the night behind them. Cooper turned to face out the rear of the vehicle once more. He saw the reflection of blue and white lights bounce off buildings as they sped through an intersection. Two German patrol cars skidded around the corner a moment later.

  "Yep," said Swede. "They got GPS."

  "All right, let's give them something to think about,” muttered Cooper as he and Mike raised their MP5SDs in unison and took aim.

  Cooper aimed at the front tires of the right truck and said, “Take the left."

  "Got it," replied Mike.

  The two SEALs open fired simultaneously and the subsonic 9mm rounds tore up the pavement and front grills of the chase vehicles. The Germans swerved, their sirens blared, and a few shots were fired back in their general direction. The Germans remained undeterred.

  "They got run-flats!" announced Mike.

  Cooper had to shift tactics and quickly. He knew that if the Germans could track their vehicle as fast as they did, it had to have been equipped with a GPS locator. No matter where they went, they would be hunted. They had to get out of the vehicle and do it fast. But as long as they were being chased by two carloads of German soldiers, that was not going to happen.

  Cooper pulled two grenades from his tactical vest: one smoke, the other high-explosive. He turned to Mike and had to brace himself against the side of the truck as Jax swerved around an unseen obstacle in the road.

  “Hang on back there!” called out Jax.

  “Now he tells us,” muttered Mike.

  "Hold it steady for a second, Jax,” said Cooper. “Popping smoke! Frag out!"

  "Hooyah!" replied Mike as he pulled grenades from his own vest.

  "On three, one…two…three!" Cooper and Mike tossed grenades at the same time. At the speed they traveled, there was no sense in throwing the grenades at their targets, so both of them employed an underhand release and let the grenades hit the ground. As the pursuing German trucks reached the spot where Cooper and Mike had released their grenades, the smoke canisters exploded, flooding the street in a cloud of fog. Just as the headlights of the lead German vehicle penetrated the smoke, the first fragmentation grenade went off.

  Cooper didn't wait to see what happened to the trucks. "Jax, get us off this street!"

  "Hang on!" Jax sent their stolen truck into a tire-chirping turn around the corner.

  Jax brought them to a shuddering stop next to another of Boston’s ubiquitous brownstone apartment buildings. "Everybody out! This is the end line."

  Cooper and Mike hopped off the rear bumper as the rest of the team emerged from the doors, dragging Doctor Boatner with them.

  "I'll loop around some and ditch this thing, then link up with Sparky."

  "Go!" said Cooper as he slapped the side of the truck. Jax hit the gas and the captured German truck peeled out down the side street heading in the opposite direction of their extraction location.

  Cooper didn't bother to watch the taillights as Jax tore off into the pre-dawn darkness. He could tell from the sound of secondary explosions that at least one of the German trucks had been severely damaged. They were less than a block away around the corner. When Cooper looked back the way they had come, he could see smoke from the grenades drifting down the street on the light breeze. He spun back in the direction Jax went and saw a side alley heading parallel to the main road.

  Cooper put his hand on Dr. Boatner’s shoulder and said, "Okay sir, we going to get you out of here. This way, please, and try to keep quiet." He nudged the doctor forward, and pointed at Mike. The smaller SEAL nodded before trotting off toward the alley with his weapon up.

  Cooper shot a glance over his shoulder. “Swede, watch our six."

  “Done.”

  “Going green,” announced Mike. "This alley’s full of shit to trip on—watch it back there…”

  Cooper activated his own night vision and waited a few heartbeats for the green-tinted world to stop shimmering. Once his visor was ready, he was able to pick his way through the minefield of debris that clogged the alley and lead Boatner to another side street.

  "Where to now, Coop?" Mike said, kneeling at the entrance to the alley and pointing his rifle north.

  Charlie took position on the other side of the alley, scanning the street to the south. "All clear."

  Cooper took a knee behind Mike and pulled up his forearm-map screen. The little screen displayed a picture of Harvard and the area around the University. The image shimmered and static lines appeared and disappeared at random. "Damn signal’s too weak for me to get a lock.”

  Something nearby was interfering with the GPS signal. Or maybe the tech boys hadn’t gotten full access to the satellites yet. Either way, it left Cooper with one burning question he hadn’t had to ask in his decade of service: “Where the hell are we?"

  "Sign out at the end of this street says Clairborne," said Charlie's voice.

  "I don't see—" Mike stopped talking as a coughing fit suddenly gripped him.

  Cooper’s head snapped up and he immediately jumped to his feet and touched Mike on the shoulder. "You okay?"

  Mike coughed one more time, then cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said, his voice hoarse. "Must’ve inhaled some of the smoke back there." After a second, he turned his head and glanced at Cooper. "I'm fine, seriously."

  "Okay," said Cooper, completely unconvinced. Their HAHO helmets filtered out smoke—Cooper had not smelled anything but recycled air since he’d activated his suit after leaving the Sons of Liberty headquarters. "You got any signs down your way?" Cooper turned and moved backed to his position next to Boatner. He could see Charlie shaking his head in the darkness.

  "Negative on signs," said Mike.

  Cooper looked down at the map on his forearm and traced streets with his finger. That's Clairborne over there so there's no way we can be here. He shifted his finger two streets over until he found the road that Charlie had indicated. "We gotta be in here somewhere," he said, his finger tracing a three block area on the map. He checked the distance from the extraction point to their assumed location. Too far to make a run for it right now. They'd have to seek cover until the Germans gave up the hunt.

  He checked his HUD for the local time. Sunrise is only a couple hours away. Definitely not enough time to get to the extraction point.

  "All right boys, we need to find shelter, pronto. The sun’ll be up in a couple hours and we gotta be off the streets. Let’s move—fast and quiet—until we find a good place to hide the doctor."

  "Excuse me,” whispered Boatner in a nervous voice. "But we've got to get back to my lab—I have research there that needs to be—"

  "Sir," replied Cooper. "My mission is not to rescue your research, it's to rescue you. We have to get you out of here and back to safety."

  "You don't understand," said the doctor, refusing to back down. He yanked his arm free of Cooper's grip. "Rescuing me is important, I'll admit that. But without my research notes, there's not going to be much I can do towards finding a cure for this influenza strain. The genome has been modified—"

  "Okay, you lost me at ‘genome’. We don't have time for this." Cooper looked down the street again. "How far away is your lab?"

  "Is his lab back on campus?" asked Charlie, still scanning the street to the south. "Coop, we don't have time for this bullshit. We can't double back—"

  "No, not that lab," said Boatner in an impatient tone. "The University had strict policies against doing any kind of research that would aid the United States government in any way possibly used by the military. They wouldn't let me work with anything on school grounds. I was moonlighting for the Argo Corporation. Look,” he said, leaning toward Cooper, “I promise I'll explain everything, but you’ve got to get me back to my lab! If your mission is in any way a part of the greater effort to stop
this flu virus, then getting to that lab will be absolutely critical to completing your mission!"

  "All right, all right, settle down.” Cooper could see through his green-tinted visor the sincerity written on the good doctor's face. The man was not going anywhere without first visiting his lab. Cooper sighed. “We'll take you to your lab."

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAD WOKE WITH A start when he heard something against the door to his cell. He opened his eyes and glanced around the dim room. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. There was nothing in the room besides the cot he occupied and the 5 gallon bucket he used as a toilet.

  Muffled shouts in the corridor preceded a faint vibrating rumble that made its presence felt through the legs of his cot. Chad sat up. It sounded like an explosion. That was new.

  He flexed his arms and grimaced. Once again, the guards had loosely strapped a cable-tie around his wrists. He bent his elbows and winced at the familiar ache that told him he had already survived the day’s bloodletting. The question was, what day was it? In planning for his escape, he lost track of time–all the more reason he needed to make his move as soon as possible.

  Confused shouts out in the corridor suggested his guards were distracted. Hope flared in his chest. It was time to act.

  Idly wondering if he would have any veins left in his arms, he swung his legs over the side of the cot. He braced himself on the floor, preparing to break his bonds. Chad rolled his neck, loosened his shoulders and took a few deep breaths. This was it. The moment of truth.

  He stretched his arms straight out in front of him, twisted his wrists parallel to the floor, and gripped his hands into fists. He felt the plastic cable-tie start to tighten. In one quick movement, he jerked his hands toward his chest and pulled his elbows back beyond his body as far as he could. The expected snap of the plastic cable-tie holding his wrists together did not happen. Instead, Chad cried out in pain as the restraint bit into the skin around his wrists. It hadn’t worked.