“Makes sense,” David said, turning on their headlights and illuminating the dust cloud.
“Roger. Let us know when to go dark,” said Nathan, lowering the radio. “I hope they know what they’re doing.”
“Me, too,” said David. “Because I don’t have a better plan that doesn’t involve heading south for Acapulco.”
The SUV in front of them lurched forward and immediately turned right. David followed, their vehicle emerging from the school into the suspended dust. They crept behind the lead SUV, which faced an open gate to the alley. A few seconds later, both vehicles sped uncomfortably fast through the gate and proceeded disturbingly close to each other down the alley. Keira squeezed Owen’s hand, more for her sake than his.
“It’ll be all right, Mom,” he said.
“You’re starting to sound like your dad.”
CHAPTER 22
Mexicali flattened into a wasteland of shabby and abandoned roadside business fronts once they turned left on Route 2, headed for the eastern fringes of the city. In the solitary glow of their headlights, it looked uninhabited. Through David’s night vision, it looked long dead. A few miles from the Route 20 interchange, the businesses faded away, replaced by long stretches of broken and warped chain-link fence. Behind the useless property barriers, derelict tractor trailers, their tires and engines missing, stood tall over barren lots filled with scrapped cars and piles of junk.
David tapped the brake as Alpha’s SUV decelerated and applied it a little more firmly when the rate of closure between the two vehicles didn’t immediately decrease.
“Ask him why they’re slowing,” said David, watching the windshield-projected speedometer shoot below forty-five miles per hour.
“Why are we slowing?” said Nathan.
“We have a small situation coming up. Plan on coming to a full stop in five, four—”
“Define ‘small situation,’” said Nathan, interrupting Alpha’s count.
“Two, one—”
David pressed the pedal hard, bringing them to a controlled stop less than a foot behind the lead vehicle. Flashes erupted from the SUV on both sides, accompanied by the crackle of suppressed automatic fire.
Nathan detached his seat belt and rose to one knee in the front seat, aiming his rifle through the wide slit at the top of the window. “What are they shooting at?” he yelled.
“Left side!” David barked as the SUV rained fire on a sedan facing the highway from behind a shallow, rocky rise, bullets peppering its windshield, stitching it with holes and spraying crimson blotches against the remaining windows. The sedan’s doors remained closed throughout the fusillade, its occupants probably either dead or critically wounded by the first volley.
Then Nathan’s rifle began popping repeatedly. By the time David’s eyes focused on that side, a massive pickup truck facing the highway alongside a derelict building had met a similar fate.
“We’re moving again,” said Alpha. “That was the cartel’s easternmost lookout post on Route 2. They focus on traffic inbound to Mexicali, so it’s unlikely they reported our approach, but they would have dimed us out in another ten seconds.”
“If you knew they were going to be there,” Nathan said, “you think you could’ve given us a little warning?”
David laughed to himself, shaking his head. A car full of guys Nathan had never met before tonight were risking their lives to escort him through cartel land, and he didn’t hesitate to give them shit. What had happened to the gentle scientist who’d climbed on this ride?
“They change location every night,” said Alpha, maintaining admirable cool. “Thermal imaging didn’t pick them up until the last minute.” He chuckled. “We’ll try to anticipate your needs better next time, though.”
Nathan still bristled. “They knew we’d be hitting those lookouts somewhere along here. Their need-to-know attitude doesn’t work for me,” he said to David. “When it comes to my family’s safety—I need to know what we’re up against.”
“We’ll be on our own soon enough,” said David.
The lead SUV sped away, David flooring the accelerator to keep up. The highway rumbled underneath them, amplifying the heavy silence. They cruised east at seventy miles per hour, the land on each side of the highway flattening away to desert. After a few minutes, he spotted the overpass marking the Route 20 connector. From there on, they’d have the road to themselves for several hours. If the other car followed, they’d undoubtedly spot it at some point on Route 2.
“We’re almost there,” said David.
Nathan raised his rifle and peered through its magnified optics. “Looks clear.”
The radio crackled. “We’re going to range ahead of you to check the other side of the underpass. Just in case. Slow to forty miles per hour—please.”
“Copy your last. Slowing to forty,” said Nathan, then lowered the radio. “Smart-ass.”
The distance between the two vehicles opened swiftly, as if the lead SUV had turboboosted forward. It passed underneath the low bridge well ahead of them, pulling off the road just beyond the structure.
“All clear,” said Alpha. “Pull in front of us, and we’ll get you on your way.”
“Be there shortly,” said Nathan.
“I don’t know whether to be nervous or happy,” said Keira.
“Both,” replied David.
“Definitely both,” said Nathan. “What about you, big guy?”
Owen leaned forward between the seats. “How long until we meet up with Grandpa and Grandma?”
“A few days,” said Nathan.
Best-case scenario, thought David, keeping that to himself. Owen settled into his seat without responding. He couldn’t imagine what was going on inside that kid’s head. Excitement. Fear. Anxiety. Hopelessness. Anger. Probably a toxic mix of everything. But despite the unrelenting hell tossed in his lap, the kid appeared to be coping better than David imagined possible—especially for an eleven-year-old.
His train of thought continued to derail as the underpass grew rapidly in the windshield. Maybe Alison’s fertility challenges had been a blessing in disguise, saving him the grief of losing both his wife and the mother of their children. Or maybe he would have delivered the phones and driven off if there had been more at stake. Lots of maybes.
“You gonna stop?” said Nathan.
David overcorrected in response, jamming on the brakes as they passed under the metal bridge, throwing them all against their seat belts and eliciting a round of curses from Nathan and Keira. The SUV barely slowed in time to park a reasonably close distance in front of Alpha’s vehicle.
“What was that about?” said Nathan.
“Just testing the brakes,” he said lamely. “Sorry to scare everyone.”
“Yeah. Well, they work,” said Nathan, detaching his seat belt.
Bravo and the two operatives who’d joined them at the school formed a three-point perimeter around the cars, scanning the distance with their rifle scopes while the rest of them huddled around the hood of the SUV with Alpha.
“You still have that map?” Alpha asked Nathan.
For a moment, Nathan looked like he might deliver a sarcastic retort. Instead, he silently dug the road map out of one of his cargo pockets and spread it on the hood. They squeezed together in front of the vehicle to better view it from the proper orientation, including Owen, who stood in front of Keira. Alpha checked his watch before shining a flashlight on the map.
“It’s five after ten. Barring any difficulty, you’re looking at a seven-hour drive to Nogales. About three hundred and sixty miles. As you can see, Route 2 follows the Arizona border pretty closely until you hit Sonoyta. Do not try to cross the border in Sonoyta, and do not stop in Sonoyta. Do I need to repeat that?”
“What’s in Sonoyta?” said David.
“Nothing. It’s completely dead—for a reason. Drones out of Yuma have recently started killing anything trying to cross over. The Sinaloa cartel doesn’t bother with it anymore.”
> “Maybe we should avoid it altogether,” said Nathan.
“We thought about that, but the only other way is to take Route 8 along the north coast here,” he said, pointing at the top of the Sea of Cortez. “That adds close to three hours to your trip and puts you at the crossing well after sunrise. You’ll already be cutting it close. The sun comes up early there—around five thirty. Jose thinks you’ll attract too much attention.”
“A lone car crossing at five in the morning won’t attract attention?” said Nathan.
“The city will be wide-awake at eight, injecting too many variables into the equation. Plus, we have no idea when Cerberus might locate our headquarters in Mexicali. When they find it abandoned, it won’t take long to connect the dots from there. You need to be across the border before people start keeping an eye out for gringos heading north.”
“I see,” said Nathan, crossing his arms.
“Keep an eye on the road conditions beyond Sonoyta. You only have one spare tire. And follow the damn map. Jose’s route keeps you out of most towns. There’s no way to avoid Altar when you turn north on Route 43 here,” he said, tracing the route with a finger. “But after that, you’re home free until you hit the Hermosillo–Nogales border station just west of Nogales proper.”
“Is the border station manned?” said David.
He shook his head. “It’s no longer a functioning port of entry. Just a road now.”
“US Customs doesn’t monitor the border?” said Keira.
“No,” he said, giving her an odd look. “They abandoned the Arizona border more than two years ago. New Mexico shortly after that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What do you mean?” said Alpha.
“You’re just saying that things are bad on the border, right?” said Nathan.
“No, I’m saying the previous border doesn’t exist, for all practical purposes. Don’t you watch the news?”
“You don’t see this on the news in California,” said David.
What Alpha was saying wasn’t news to him—he’d read highly classified area reports and situation reports on the cartels’ influence along the state borders, though even those reports downplayed the extent of the problem Alpha was describing.
“I don’t know this for a fact, but for a while now, we—as in, many Marines—have suspected there’s a state-imposed media blackout regarding the true state of affairs in the Wastelands.”
“Unbelievable. Even the Texas border is barely functional! El Paso and Laredo go back and forth between cartel and Texas National Guard control on a weekly fucking basis—” Alpha cut himself off.
“We don’t have time for this. Bottom line: when you get through the border crossing at Nogales, don’t stop. Keep pressing north, but make sure you bypass Tucson. You’ll find a local-area map in the glove box to help you with that. I recommend getting off Interstate 19 in Green Valley, several miles south of the city. I can’t remember the name of the road. Continental something or other. It parallels the interstate and dumps you on the southwestern outskirts of the city. Stay on the outskirts and sneak your way northwest until you connect with Interstate 10. You’ll see what I mean on the Tucson map. You have a second set of license plates on the floor under the front passenger seat. Arizona plates. Ditch the Mexican tags when you reach Interstate 40. That’s kind of the east-west demarcation line between cartel and state control. Questions?”
“Lights on or off for the trip?” said David.
“You know the deal with the goggles. Synthetic daylight mode paints a better picture than headlights, but I don’t care what the design company says, you’re not seeing a true three-dimensional picture. Winding roads pose a problem. Flat runs are fine. From a security perspective, I’d run dark through any towns. If it’s still dark when you cross the border, I recommend dousing the headlights a mile out on both sides.”
David nodded. “Satellite phone?”
“Thought you’d never ask,” said Alpha, producing the encrypted satellite phone given to David by Lieutenant Colonel Smith, his commanding officer. Jose had confiscated it from him before they arrived at the CLM bunker. He handed it over. “Good luck, and play it safe. I sincerely hope all of our paths cross again.”
Nathan extended a hand. “Thank you for delivering us safely. I wish you all the best of luck. I can’t honestly say I want to see you again, but that’s mainly because I’d like to vanish where nobody will find me.”
David’s eyes moistened when Owen shook Alpha’s hand. Just the sight of the seasoned war fighter taking the kid’s hand and telling him to watch out for his parents was enough to bring a lump to his throat.
Once they were all in the SUV, David started the engine and waited for everyone to fasten their seat belts.
When Nathan had snapped in and leaned his rifle against the door, he picked up the radio. “Should we return this?”
David shook his head. “We can keep it in power-saving mode, and if they’re careless enough to transmit on the frequency, we’ll hear it. Never know, right?”
“Right,” said Nathan, handing it through the front seats to Keira. “I’ll turn this important duty over to our communications team.”
“I was going to take a nap. Hopefully sleep through Sonoyta,” said Keira, stowing the radio under the back of Nathan’s seat.
“Don’t worry about what Alpha said,” said David. “As long as we stay on this side of the border, the drones won’t bother us. I know a Marine drone pilot at Yuma, and they have strict rules of engagement.”
What he didn’t tell them was that he didn’t know any of the CIA, DIA, NSA, Border Patrol, or air force drone pilots housed in the adjacent trailers at Yuma. He eased the SUV off the highway shoulder, picking up speed when he felt all four tires grip pavement. Some things were better left unsaid, especially when they were completely out of your control.
PART III
CHAPTER 23
Jon Fisher stood next to the single window in the unfurnished den of the Gleasons’ town house and peered through the wooden blinds. A front had moved in a few hours ago, obscuring the quarter moon and casting an impenetrable darkness over the neighborhood. Beside a few lights in the upper floors of the nearby town houses, he could barely see across the street. If someone was watching him, there was little chance he would detect it unless they made a foolish mistake. No sense worrying about something out of his control.
He let the shutter blade fall back into place and returned to the kitchen, taking a seat at a round table that nearly touched the back of the family room couch. The town house was a notch or two past cozy, but what did the Gleasons care? They spent most of their time in a pristine, self-sustained community hidden in the hills, returning to society only to hang out with their children and grandchildren. And eat sushi. Apparently that was important to Kim, and Jon had no right to judge. He suspected Leah had agreed to move to their Idaho location as much for the proliferation of Thai restaurants in Ketchum as her love for the scenery.
Jon checked the satphone lying on the table for missed calls. Still nothing. It was well past his natural bedtime, and he was starting to feel a strong pull toward the spare bedroom upstairs. He’d set a few noise traps and retire for the evening in a few minutes. Stu and his son-in-law would arrive in the morning, and he wanted to be fresh for the initial planning session. He figured Stu would want to start driving south as soon as they mapped out a few potential travel routes. Of course, it would help immensely if they heard from either David or Nathan. Driving blindly into the Wastelands, with no guidance beyond “head south,” didn’t exactly inspire confidence in the mission. He’d undertake it regardless, but they could use some actionable intelligence. Otherwise, they were literally driving to points unknown.
He was thinking about pouring a glass of water to take upstairs when his satphone rang. He recognized the number from the hundreds of times he’d imagined it appearing on the phone’s small screen over the last twenty-four hours. Recalling one
of Stuart’s many surveillance precautions, he stood up and walked toward the bathroom.
“Hello? David? Nathan?”
“Dad, it’s me,” said his son. “I have Keira, Owen, and David with me. We’re fine.”
“I’m so glad to hear your voice,” he said, closing the bathroom door behind him and running the faucet. “Nathan. Can you give the phone to David for a minute? We heard about Alison. Major General Nichols spoke with David’s father earlier today. I should talk with him first.”
“I understand, Dad. Here he is.”
“Hello? Sergeant Major Fisher?”
“David. We heard about Alison. I don’t know if you’ve talked with your father, but we heard from Nichols, who heard from your Marines. I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to say, other than—I’m forever in your debt. And we’re gonna make these fuckers pay for this. For all of it.”
“Sergeant Major. That’s all I needed to hear. If you don’t mind, I’d like to leave it at that.”
“Copy that, David—and please call me Jon. I haven’t been called Sergeant Major in a long time.”
David laughed—a good sign. “I’ll give Jon a try, but don’t hold it against me if I revert to Sergeant Major. What am I hearing in the background, sir? Sounds like static?”
“I’m sitting on the crapper, with the door closed, running the faucet. Don’t laugh—it was your dad’s idea.”
“Can’t be too cautious. I’m gonna pass this to Nathan. I look forward to seeing Sergeant Major Fisher and Colonel Quinn back in action.”
“Your dad and brother-in-law should be here in the morning. Probably start heading your way soon after that.”
“Blake is with my dad?”
“That’s what he said.”
“He’s one badass dude,” said David.
“That makes three badasses headed your way.”
David laughed again. “All right. Here’s Nathan.”
“Dad. Great to hear your voice. Is Mom there, too?”
“No. I sent her back to the compound. She’ll be safer there. I have Stuart and his son-in-law arriving early. We’ll head south to link up with you guys as quickly as possible. What’s your current status? We heard some conflicting reports from Nichols.”
Rogue State (Fractured State Series Book 2) Page 14