Backlash: Prequel to The Wildblood Series

by Hoag, S. A.

  “If you have any questions or concerns, now is the time,” he finished. Wade beckoned for his team to join him for a moment. “If we sense anything early, fantastic,” he started. “If we don't, it's no big deal. Don't read anything in to it because it's not a concern.” They both nodded. “Let's go drive around. Shan you're out first, Mac five minutes later, me five minutes after that. You know the route.”

  Mac caught her arm. “Wait,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “I'm going to be close, damned close, all day long. If you think you need to call us, do it.”

  “You don't think I should be out here,” she said rather than asked.

  “I wish you weren't. You're as qualified as any of us to deal with a helicopter.”

  “I suppose I am.”

  “Be careful. If you get that urge, if you need to run, do it.”

  “I understand,” she offered. “The same thing applies to you. It's entirely appropriate for Team Three to bail the hell out if there's a helicopter involved.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “I'm fucking bored, I'm fucking bored,” Shan repeated over and over, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel as she headed south on Highway 287 again. It was her fifth round; ten miles south, turn around, ten miles north, three miles west, turn around, three miles east. Her mother had told her swearing wasn't ladylike, so she tried to do less of it. Not that she was concerned with being ladylike. Deirdre could make her feel guilty over pretty much nothing, and that was one of those things.

  Today was an exception. Shan looked at the radio and announced, “I'm fucking bored.” She didn't have to put it on the air for Wade to be aware. So was he, so was Mac, and every other officer wandering up and down the roads around Sheridan. Nothing was out-of-the-ordinary this morning, not a trace of any activity that wasn't theirs. The sky was clear, with some high, wispy clouds to the north. She tried to imagine the Black Hawk circling around so someone could get a clear shot at it; it didn't help.

  “What time is it?” Green asked anyone who cared to answer. He seldom wore a watch and the one he'd packed for his excursion to Dillon had burned in the depot, along with the rest of the gear Security stored there.

  “Call it 7:30,” Mac responded. Shan smiled to herself. Both her partners were fairly relaxed, considering they were chasing a helicopter through icy mountain roads.

  “Jasso, go ahead and take 41 north for about ten,” Wade started switching them off. “Lambert, make a run around the old airport.” They didn't have to answer. “Officer Allen, do your regular route. You and I and Mac need to meet up. I'll let you know where in a few.”

  True to his word, Wade came back on the air with instructions as she was turning. “Allen and MacKenzie, rendezvous with me at the bottom of The Roost.” It was a scenic overlook south of Sheridan; Security used it for just that. “We may move the search north.” He was getting restless.

  Minutes later, a cold feeling crept up her spine. It was a real sensation, not some imagined, fear-induced paranoia. It made her ears ring and her adrenalin run. She knew where the helicopter was, and it was behind her, moving in from the reservoir, perhaps, maybe even Yellowstone. Wade hadn't specified if he knew, but considering they didn't all head south at daybreak, she doubted he'd been aware.

  “Imminent Code Seven,” she announced on the air, dead calm. Anyone that could hear it would understand. “Three miles south of Robber's Roost. It's the Black Hawk; I can feel it, coming up from the lake, I think. It's going to intercept me before I get to the lookout.”

  “You've got a V8 in that car and you're a Scout,” Mac came back immediately and not-so-calm. “You floor it and find a place to fucking hide . . .”

  “Officer Allen, we're five minutes away,” Wade cut in. “There's a subdivision of houses right there off to your east. Find cover until you get support from large arms. Green, Ballentyne, Jasso, Taylor, get to the Roost now. All other officers remain on your assigned routes.” Wade thought they could have others on the ground, close, looking for trouble. “Keep your eyes open, people.”

  Shan did exactly what Mac had urged, pushing the car to ninety on the unmaintained road. It was mostly paved and level, and a hell of a lot less dangerous than confronting a military helicopter, as far as she was concerned. “I see the houses,” she told them. “They look like they're falling down.”

  “You need to hide there, not move in,” Wade answered. “Can you see the helicopter yet?”

  “I can hear it,” she said, veering off the main road and heading for the houses. The car bounced erratically in the soft dirt and she was forced to slow down or risk losing control. “Collar mic, I might lose signal,” she warned him, getting as close to cover as she could find. “I'm out of the car and heading for the nearest house.” She pulled into a row of pine trees that had long ago overgrown the sidewalk, throwing the car into park and bailing out. The Black Hawk buzzed overhead, low and fast, banking hard. “Shit,” she said to herself, knowing they'd seen her. She snatched the AK from its rack and ran.

  It was uphill and it was cold out. By the time Shan made it to the first switchback, she felt like someone had kicked her in the chest; no pain, but a deep ache from the icy air forced into her lungs. Swinging around, she stopped and planted her feet, firing at the helicopter as it passed by again. A sniper was firing back, their armaments apparently not in top-notch working condition. More likely, she suspected, they were playing with her, just to see her run.

  “I said hide, not engage,” Wade repeated. “That's an order.”

  “They started it,” she answered, looking for shelter. The first house wasn't much more than a skeleton, the partially-finished building showing fifteen years of weather. She made a dash for it anyway, dodging past a pile of broken concrete. Pausing, she waited for the helicopter to swing out to turn. As it did, she sprinted to the next house. It was more completed but still not much shelter. There was no chance to move on to another because it looked like an avalanche had taken some of the construction sites.

  “I'm in sight of The Roost,” Ballentyne announced. “Five minutes.”

  Shannon wondered if she had five minutes. Her side twinged from the exertion. As she tugged the body armor back in to place, she felt a damp and sticky patch along the edge. “Shit,” she exhaled, examining the blood on her hand. It was hers and it was fresh. The sniper apparently wasn't as bad as she'd imagined.

  “How bad?” Wade asked, knowing, sensing a tingling itch beginning across his left side.

  “I can't feel it yet, I don't know.” Shan told him, a burning sensation starting. “I think it caught me under the edge of the flak jacket.” When she stopped to shoot back, she figured. Wade had been right, naturally.

  “How bad what?” Mac asked, a feeling of helplessness catching him and not letting go. He forced calm.

  “A scratch, probably a ricochet,” she said. “I'm okay.”

  “No one panic,” Wade said. “We have a medic en route.”

  “Helicopter east of me,” Taylor said.

  “I'm close,” Green verified.

  “Me too,” Taylor chimed in. “I'm on the county road and Jasso's in my dust. His radio might be out again.” They were closer, but on a trickier, slower road.

  “They're coming back,” Shannon said, fleeing farther to the interior of the house. The mounted machine gun screamed to life and she threw herself on the floor as parts of the house splintered and sent shards flying in all directions. Scrambling away, she found the back half of the house was only framed out. She made it to the deck, losing her headset in the process. As the Black Hawk passed overhead, she caught two or three rounds in the jacket; one went through, slamming her into the wall. When the helicopter circled around again, she knew she'd have nowhere to hide. Throwing the AK over the side, Shan jumped off the deck, despite the ground being twelve feet below. She hit the ground hard and rolled up under the deck.

  Then the helicopter strafed the Security vehicle racing up the highway. Wade's vehicle. He could se
e the lead splattering into the pavement in front of him, almost as if it were happening in slow-motion. It wasn't. He swerved violently as the car took multiple hits. Both front tires blew and the car went sideways into the gulch that followed the road.

  “Wade,” Mac called. Then, “Shannon.”

  “I've got Wade's position,” Ballentyne said. “Someone get up on the first switchback and take that damned thing down.”

  “I'm there,” Green announced.

  “Green, go on to the second switchback. I'm right behind you,” Mac told him, suddenly in charge, with Wade off-the-air. “Cover us from there.”

  “I've lost visual on the Black Hawk,” Taylor told them. “It was heading southeast.”

  “Stay at the bottom of the overlook,” Mac said. “Jasso, too, just in case. All cars, hold your position until further notice. Keep in cover.” He hit the first corner too fast, skidding in the dirt, the back quarter panel glancing off a tree. It didn't slow him down. Shannon's car, abandoned on the next street did.

  “I'm out of the car, I may lose radio contact,” Mac announced. “Ballentyne, if they blow me to hell, you're in charge.” Switching the radio to all frequencies, he started a dialogue with whoever was out there, listening. “If you can hear me, Black Hawk pilot, come on back here and shoot at someone that can defend themselves. Or are you just a chickenshit with a dangerous toy?” He had the trunk open and locked a warhead into place, hoisting the launcher and waiting. Listening. Trying to use those Gen En abilities he knew he possessed.

  “It's coming back,” Shan whispered, knowing Wade could sense it and hoping Mac could. It hurt to breathe; she wasn't certain if it was her or Wade.

  “Helicopter south,” Ballentyne warned.

  “I see him,” Mac said, to no one in particular. “Let's dance.”

  “Keep it steady,” Wade said, stuck in his car, with both doors jammed shut. He could smell gasoline and smoke.

  For a few moments, it looked like the helicopter was going to go back south. “Run away now, and we'll still find you later,” Mac said on the air. “I promise.”

  “They can't hear you,” Shan yelled across the road at him, making her way slowly.

  “Stay there,” he yelled back, seeing the helicopter bank towards them. “Stay out of sight.”

  “Shoot it,” she urged.

  “Out of range,” he replied, getting ready.

  “What's the range?” Shan asked, needing to sit down suddenly from the exertion of walking up the hill.

  “Two hundred yards or less. The less the better.”

  “Their machine gun is jammed, that's why they haven't run at you.” She sat down, dizzy. “The sniper is pretty fucking sharp. Hit me at least once. Don't let them get overhead.”

  “Great,” he said, keeping his attention focused even if he'd verified she was hurt. She was mobile and talking. “Here they come.” Mac watched it weaving back and forth, moving fast. Five hundred yards, then three hundred, then two hundred. “Heads up, live fire.”

  Shannon passed out the moment after she watched the warhead hit the Black Hawk, almost dead-center. As it exploded, she thought disjointedly how it looked like the fireworks adults in The Vista sometimes set off for holidays that used to be.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “She's aspirating out into the mask,” someone was shouting. Shannon couldn't see anything and the voices sounded distant and hollow, as if they were yelling down a long corridor. “Roll her on to her side, her lung is collapsing.”

  “Where's Green?” another voice called, one she recognized as Mac. He was holding her hand, and she squeezed it.

  “Wade's hurt, he's trapped in his car and it's burning,” Green returned.

  “The helicopter is down,” Mac yelled. “Call a Code Thirteen damn it, before we lose the whole team.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Oct 05, Station Three, White Sulpher Springs, mid day

  “There are a few things about your special talents we should probably discuss,” Perro cut right to it. He'd driven himself out to the Station, minutes after the Alert Six, the all-clear, went on the air. Command had decided to actively recruit Capt. MacKenzie after he lead the teams to route Nomads at Dillon four days earlier.

  Both his partners were recuperating in the infirmary, in the east wing of the Station. Away from the prying eyes and endless questions they'd be subject to in The Vista. He'd spent four nights sitting next to Shannon while she slept, with the occasional trip across the hall to check in on Wade. In a week, they'd both be itching to get home.

  Civilians wouldn't hear the word 'helicopter' from anyone in Security, not concerning this incident.

  “Is this the same debriefing Wade got, a year ago?” Mac wondered.

  Perro regarded him for a moment. “Not exactly. But then, you aren't exactly similar to Capt. Wade, now are you? Questions.”

  Mac shook his head. “I'm the odd man out, concerning Team Three.”

  “No, you aren't. You're different.”

  “Different than you, or different than my team?”

  “Both,” Perro confirmed.

  “I'm Gen En,” Mac went defensive.

  “Yes, but not like your team. Not like any other Gen En in The Vista. Hell, Capt. MacKenzie, you were pretty much an urban legend to us, until you hit puberty.”

  Mac wasn't sure what any of that meant. “Enlighten me, Commander.”

  “As best I can. The things we discuss will be confidential, and I mean between you and Command, not you, Command, and your team.”

  Mac nodded. “I know there are things about us, about the Gen En, Command knows because some members were involved.”

  Perro tipped his head, neither denying or confirming.

  “Are we human?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why am I so different?”

  “Some corporations experimenting with human genetic manipulation were less cautious than others. They ignored safeties and control parameters and, well, did what they wanted. You are the result. Does this mean anything to you?”

  “No, it doesn't,” Mac told him. The thing was, now that he'd heard it, he could find out.

  “We want all three of you in Command, and in time, that will happen. Each of you will have training that's specific to your abilities. Said training will be separate from your team members but you will have other Security officers involved.”

  “To what end?” Mac knew there had to be a point to it all.

  “Being in Command and current Security Officers, you can carry out missions no one else is qualified for. Missions Council is uninvolved in. Our goal, our plan for the next five to ten years is to establish a community, one that will be outside the influence of the Council.”

  “Can we do that?”

  “Any village or outpost beyond our established boundaries will be under the control of Command,” Perro told him. “Team Three is perfect for the job, first because of the Gen En, obviously; you're already trained for basic Security, and you're young enough to finish what we start.”

  “Again. Why?”

  “That's a simple question with a complicated answer.” Perro considered how detailed an answer he wanted to reveal at this point. “You will accept your nomination in to Command?”

  “Absolutely,” Mac said without hesitation.

  “Just as Command has its secrets, so does the Council. All of these clandestine activities have their reasons, of course. Council has hidden things from the general population, since the very inception of The Vista.”

  “What sort of things? Gen En things?” Mac was quick to surmise.

  “No. Again, the genetically enhanced are very little more that rumors from the past, at this point. Our concern is other cities, other places like The Vista we know are out there but we have no contact with out of fear of what might be.”

  Mac absorbed his words, a flurry of complications and implications filling his mind. “How many cities? How many people?” For as long as he could remember, The Vista was the
only place in the world, and its four thousand people, the only ones he'd ever know.

  “We estimate there could be fifty thousand people within a summer's traveling distance of here.”

  A generation ago, there had been over eight billion humans – a number Mac couldn't even fathom. Fifty thousand he could. “Fear of what, exactly?”

  “Exactly?” Perro repeated, crossing his arms. MacKenzie might not be the quiet one, but he was just as sharp as Wade and certainly more dangerous. “Fear that the things causing the war haven't been resolved. Fear that there will be enemies rather than allies. Fear that we won't be able to control everything that happens here. This last incident, this attack by forces that may or may not have been military-trained people, it could be backlash from the war itself. So could the detonation on Missouri Breaks. We don't know. These are the reason for our caution and our concern.”

  “We've never had control,” Mac said, puzzled by the idea of it.

  “No,” Perro agreed. “And that is precisely why Command wants you.”

  Mac didn't see any other choice.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5