by Bobby Akart
“Sergeant, I know you want to spend some time to gather up Dr. Hagan’s family and her associate from the CDC. We wanted to insure your safety both to and from your place up here.”
“Colonel, I certainly appreciate that. It just seems like a lot of firepower, that’s all.”
Hunter glanced at Captain Hoover to gauge a reaction. His new friend frowned, shook his head and looked down at his boots. Hunter tried to pick up on the cause of Cappy’s concern, but Colonel Clements began to speak.
“While we’re here, Sergeant, there will be one other thing you can assist us with.”
“What’s that?” asked Hunter.
“The President has ordered us to take control of Breckenridge.”
Chapter 42
Day Ninety-One
Route 9 to Breckenridge
Alma, Colorado
“What?” demanded Hunter. “What does that mean?” Hunter’s tone of voice startled the driver, who unconsciously slowed down, leaving a widening gap with the lead Humvee.
Colonel Clements shifted in his seat to look at Hunter directly. “Sergeant, the President has now shifted his focus to rebuilding our nation. Your Dr. Hagan has provided us the first crucial element of the effort. Our next step is to reestablish law and order, as well as a safe place for survivors to live without fear of dying in a massacre like we saw back at Canyon Gulch. Towns like Breckenridge are an integral part of the President’s plan.”
“Breckenridge has done just fine without the government’s help,” said Hunter. “They’ve secured their borders, unlike our government, which has contributed to the death toll, I might add. They’ve managed to feed their own, which is far more than I can say for our government. People who’ve managed to avoid the plague are dying of starvation, dysentery, and common diseases that ordinary medical treatment and nutrition could have addressed.”
The colonel shot back, “Sergeant, I would remind you I am still your superior officer for so long as you are part of this man’s Army. I would caution you to hold your tongue or run the risk of losing our support!”
Hunter was incredulous. “Are you threatening me? You know what? Screw you! How’s that for insubordination? Driver, stop the truck. I want out!”
Captain Hoover stepped in to diffuse the situation. “Hunter, you have to understand. Rebuilding the nation will be for the greater good even though it might ruffle some—”
“Wait! Are you in on this? Come on, Cappy, really? Did you know this was the real purpose of driving up here?”
“Now, hold on, Hunter, it’s not like that.”
Hunter was shouting now. He’d sensed something was off about the trip and he was pissed Cappy was in on it. “What’s it like, then? If this is such a great idea and for some benevolent purpose, then what’s with all the secrecy, huh?”
The driver interrupted the argument. “Colonel, we’ve got trouble ahead.” The driver accelerated and spoke into his comms to advise the two tailing vehicles to close the gap and be ready.
Ahead, a dozen members of the Vagos motorcycle gang were holding the soldiers of the lead Humvee at gunpoint. All of the military personnel, including the soldier manning the fifty-caliber machine gun, had been caught by surprise. They were lined up in front of the Humvee with their hands on their helmets.
As the remaining vehicles in the convoy pulled closer to the standoff, Hunter’s driver waved the other two Humvees around before slowly pulling to a stop.
Hunter couldn’t resist taking the opportunity to be snarky. “I guess these guys didn’t get the memo about the takeover, Colonel.”
Colonel Clements ignored Hunter and spoke into his portable radio. “Can you get a clear shot on the gunmen?”
Hunter shook his head. This wasn’t going to end well, nor would the Invasion of Breckenridge. He decided to diffuse the situation because he wanted to get to Quandary Peak and be done with this charade.
“Tell your men to stand down. I’ve got this,” said Hunter as he quickly exited the truck. He left his weapon behind and strutted up the incline toward the roadblock.
Hunter marched between the twin Humvees blocking the two-lane highway and approached the bikers. He was pleased to see that Jaws, the former soldier, was among the men holding weapons on the guardsmen.
“Hunter, right?” asked Jaws and then commented to his fellow bikers, “He’s cool, boys. Let him pass.”
“Yeah, Jaws. I’m with these guys,” Hunter replied as he pushed past the soldiers and walked up to Jaws, who had positioned himself behind three parked vehicles in a formation similar to the one Hunter had established at the Blue Lakes Road checkpoint. “I see you’ve beefed up your security.”
“Yeah, got the idea from up the road,” said Jaws. “These boys gotta pay a toll, too.”
Hunter looked around and spoke in a loud whisper. “Man, are you nuts? I’ve got a full-bird colonel back there with me. They won’t hesitate to open up those Ma Deuces and tear you to ribbons. I can keep that from happening, but you gotta call off the dogs.”
Jaws looked past the detained soldiers at the menacing fifty-caliber weapons pointed in his direction. He leaned in to Hunter and whispered, “I gotta collect a toll or the boys will think I’m weak. I didn’t tell you before, but this is my pack. I’m runnin’ things here.”
Hunter wasn’t surprised. His steely look from their prior encounter spoke volumes of his ability to lead men, both soldiers and bikers. Time to negotiate.
“Whadya want? I’ve got more cash,” Hunter began.
Jaws looked around at his fellow bikers, a ragtag group sportin’ a variety of shotguns, primarily sawed-off, and a thirty-eight-caliber revolver. “I need weapons.”
“Come on, Jaws. The military’s not gonna turn over their weapons,” said Hunter. He thought for a moment. “All right, here’s what I’m gonna do. You and I are straight, right?”
“Yeah, man. We’re cool.”
“I’m gonna give you my AR-10, on loan for now. Got it? It won’t do you any good anyway ’cause you’ll never find ammo for it.”
Jaws looked confused. “What’s the point? I’d love to have it, but you’re right, none of these houses are gonna have the rounds for it unless I can get lucky and find some .308. I need something more common, like these fellas’ M16s.” He pointed to the rifles lying on the ground at the guardsmen’s feet.
“Not gonna happen,” said Hunter. “I’m gonna give you the AR-10 and I’ll bring you a couple of guns later on to trade it back, with a full ammo can. If we’re friends, then we can help each other. Fair enough?”
Jaws appeared to be thinking it over. Hunter hoped the ex-grunt would see that he and his fellow Vagos were in over their heads.
“Yeah, let’s make it happen,” said Jaws.
“You owe me,” quipped Hunter.
“Wait, why? How do you figure I owe you?” asked Jaws.
“I just saved your collective tails!” Hunter laughed as he left before Jaws could respond.
Hunter jogged down to the Humvee, retrieved his rifle and said to the colonel, “I’ve negotiated a settlement for us to pass. I need your word that your men will stand down.”
“They held guns on the United States military,” the colonel bristled. “I will not tell them to stand down.”
“Colonel, yes, you will,” said Hunter. “You can’t blast your way through this. Likewise, you can’t just waltz into Breckenridge and take over either. You think this situation sucks, the people of Breckenridge will bow up even worse.”
The colonel didn’t immediately respond and then Captain Hoover spoke up. “Hunter, will you at least help us make our argument to the town?”
“Fine, but no promises, Cappy. I have very little pull over these guys,” Hunter said, nodding toward the bikers. “I have even less with the people who live in the Breck.”
“If you’re on board with us, Sergeant, then I’ll stand down,” said the colonel.
“Yeah, fine.”
“Why are you taking you
r weapon?” asked Captain Hoover.
“Trade bait,” replied Hunter as he jogged back up the hill with his rifle.
One crisis at a time.
Chapter 43
Day Ninety-One
Quandary Peak
After a minute of grumbling from the colonel about giving in to the criminal element, the convoy was on its way for the remaining five-minute ride to Quandary Peak. Hunter assured the driver there wouldn’t be any further complications, so they took the lead. Hunter wanted to be the first person out of the truck when they hit Blue Lakes Road so he could explain to his people about the military presence.
The driver slowed the Humvee to take the final S-curve approaching the checkpoint. He pulled up to the vehicles, which were positioned exactly the way Hunter had left them when he and Mac had pulled out a week or so ago. Only now, nobody was standing watch.
“Something’s wrong,” muttered Hunter. Before the driver pulled to a complete stop, Hunter instinctively grabbed for his rifle and remembered it was gone. He flung the door open, hit the pavement, and pulled his sidearm as he raced between the parked vehicles.
“Janie! Derek! Where are you guys?” Hunter looked up toward the abandoned houses. He knew that Derek and Janie practiced dry-fire drills in the houses during their shifts at the checkpoint. He’d admonished them to stay close to the roadblock. They might hear a car coming but not necessarily someone or a group on foot. They might have ignored his instructions while he was gone.
Frantic, Hunter jogged up the road toward Breckenridge and began looking around the terrain in search of a clue. He called out again, “Anybody? Janie! Are you guys here?”
“Hunter, what’s the deal?” shouted Cappy, who was making his way through the cars. “How do we move these cars out of the way?”
Hunter holstered his weapon and returned to the checkpoint. “Cappy, this roadblock has been manned continuously since we set it up. Something’s wrong.”
“Maybe your friends back there had something to do with it,” said Cappy.
“No,” Hunter shot back. Then he wondered. Don’t assume. “I mean I hope not. Get your men. Hurry.”
“Can’t we move the cars?” asked Cappy.
“No. The guards on duty keep the keys in their pockets rather than in the ignition. If they’re attacked, hiding the keys serves as one final delay-and-deter mechanism of our security.”
Hunter started up the incline toward the quarantine house in which Tommy and Flatus had lived long enough for Mac to find a cure. Hunter cupped his hands over his mouth to create a megaphone effect.
“Hey! Janie! Derek! Anybody!”
He was making his way to the second house when he heard a groan coming from behind a toolshed there. He started running toward the sound. He caught a glimpse of a leg hanging out of the shed, wedged against the swinging door.
“Don’t move!” shouted Hunter as he drew his weapon. He approached cautiously, moving his eyes in all directions to detect any sign of an ambush. He had seen the Taliban use this technique to entrap U.S. soldiers in Afghanistan. They’d pull on the heartstrings of the troops by pretending to be injured while the trap was sprung.
He pointed the weapon at the center mass of the prone body while he opened the toolshed door with his left hand. The body was barely moving, but the man was still alive.
“Derek!” exclaimed Hunter, who took one last look around the inside of the shed before putting away his weapon. He knelt down beside Doc’s son and slowly turned him onto his side.
“Arrrgh,” Derek moaned, his throat appeared to be filled with fluids as he gurgled out the painful sound.
Derek’s face was a torn, bloody mess. Hunter looked around the shed and grabbed an old beach towel off a tool bench. He sniffed it to make sure it wasn’t soaked with chemicals or gasoline and then he used it to gently wipe off Derek’s face.
“Hunter, what’ve ya got?” asked Cappy, who suddenly appeared at the entrance. “Does he have the plague?”
“No, he’s one of our people,” replied Hunter. “Tell your men to fan out and look for Janie, or anyone else for that matter. The houses are clean, disease-free.”
Cappy left and directed his men per Hunter’s instructions just as Colonel Clements arrived at the shed.
“What can I do, Sergeant?” he asked.
“Colonel, please help me pull his body out. He has a head injury, so we need to do this slowly. I’ll brace his head and shoulders.”
The colonel positioned himself between Derek’s knees and grasped him around the legs. Hunter counted down, “Three, two, one, lift.” Although Derek was slipping in and out of consciousness, his body felt like dead weight. The two men struggled to carry him through the narrow entrance of the shed but successfully moved him to a patch of grass nearby.
Hunter felt in Derek’s pants for the keys to the vehicles. He pulled them out and handed them to the colonel. “Please move the cars out of the way. Then we need to get his father, who’s a doctor. Send a Humvee up the highway about three miles to a driveway on the right with four large wagon wheels marking the entrance. They’re painted white. Tell them to ask for Doc Cooley and let them know Derek has been badly injured. Colonel, they need to hurry.”
Hunter rolled up the beach towel to make a small pillow for Derek’s head. He ran for the house and kicked open the back door, which had been locked. He found more towels and soaked them in water. He started down the hall toward the bathroom in search of first aid supplies but reversed his position. He had to stabilize Derek before he could consider any kind of treatment. The young man’s face was badly battered. Hunter’s first goal was to keep him breathing.
As he raced back to Derek’s side, he spotted a shovel in the tall grass near a path into the woods. He darted in that direction and then caught himself. You can only do one thing at a time.
“Cappy! Over here!”
Hunter reached Derek and wiped the rest of the blood off his face. “Derek, Derek, can you hear me? It’s Hunter. Hang on, buddy, we’re gonna get you fixed up. Your dad will be here in a minute. Just hang on. Can you hear me?”
Derek’s body lurched and then his chest heaved as he began to cough up some blood. This was not good. Captain Hoover and one of his men ran up next to Derek.
Hunter pointed to his left and toward the trail. “Over there. See if that shovel is—just check out that shovel.”
“Derek! Stay with me, buddy. I need you to hang in there!”
Hunter continued to wipe Derek’s face and kept his throat clear. With Captain Hoover’s help, he turned Derek on his side to prevent him from choking on his own fluids. Hunter applied continuous pressure to Derek’s wounds to stem the blood loss, but there were so many gashes it was almost impossible.
One of the soldiers returned with a wooden-handled shovel. The blade was covered in blood and bits of flesh.
“Cappy, have them check the woods. Janie might be in there! They always worked the checkpoint together.”
Captain Hoover took the soldier and summoned more men to assist. They charged down the trail and fanned out. Hunter returned his attention to Derek.
“Derek, can you hear me? Can you tell me what happened?”
Derek didn’t respond, or maybe he couldn’t, thought Hunter. He gently wiped the blood off Derek’s throat and saw the discolored skin from the massive bruise that had formed. He might have a crushed windpipe or larynx.
Captain Hoover’s men continued to scour the woods, looking for Janie, when Hunter heard the roar of the Humvee’s tires returning with Doc Cooley. The vehicle kicked up dirt as it raced into the backyard and skidded to a stop. Doc spilled out of the truck with his wife.
“Oh my!” she screamed as she scrambled to Derek’s side. In her frantic haste, she stumbled and fell onto her chest. With tears streaming down her face, the hysterical mother crawled on her hands and knees to join her son, ignoring the blood dripping from her chin.
“Honey, let me in to check on our boy,” said Doc, putt
ing on his best pretense of being calm and cool. “Hunter, what happened?”
Hunter explained how he’d found Derek and what he’d done to make him comfortable. Doc examined his son’s face, head, and throat. He checked Derek’s pulse.
“We don’t have much time,” he whispered in a barely audible voice. Doc let out a sigh and reached for his wife’s hand. “I’ll do what I can, darling.”
“How can we help?” asked Colonel Clements.
“We need to get him to the hospital,” replied Doc. “It’s his only chance.”
“Corporal!” shouted the colonel. “Let’s get this young man loaded up. Drive these folks to the hospital posthaste!”
“Yes, sir!”
Doc cradled his son’s head in his hands as Hunter and the corporal lifted his body. They carried him to the colonel’s Humvee and laid him across the backseat. Hunter ran into the house and retrieved a comforter from one of the beds to keep Derek warm. Doc was concerned he might go into shock due to the blood loss.
“Doc, I’m sorry,” said Hunter as he gave the distraught father a hug.
Doc looked around the yard at the new faces in uniform. “Hunter, where’s Janie?”
Hunter ran his fingers through his hair, forgetting they were covered in Derek’s blood. “Doc, I don’t know.”
Chapter 44
Day Ninety-One
Quandary Peak
“Captain Hoover, we followed the trail all the way down the ridge to where it crossed the road and picked up on the other side. We found three sets of footprints at one point and there were signs of a struggle. We also found this.” The soldier handed Captain Hoover a camouflage hat with a strip of Velcro on the front to hold a patch. The patch was missing, but Hunter recognized the hat.