by Hunt, Jack
For them, this was like having a VIP backstage ticket.
Over the radio, they heard Lucius saying he’d reached the Titanic and was giving the enemy a run for their money. They had minutes to get to the convention center before the gig would be up.
The Hilton at Branson loomed ahead, a huge five-story, modern building that had seen the heat of war with one section now in rubble. It stood out from the other structures around it. They made their way up to the porte-cochere where the valet would take tourists’ vehicles. There was only one truck outside, its engine growling, the back was filled with soldiers. He knew not all of them would go. Especially if they were guarding a valuable asset, but staying still and doing nothing wouldn’t serve them either.
They waited at the corner, slowing their pace until the truck rolled out. Soldiers on the door looked their way and Snow was quick to point out that they were escorting a prisoner, the Hunter, and had been given strict orders to get him inside as the south wall had been breached. The guy’s eyes bulged in his head as he frantically waved them in.
Through glass doors, they entered into a glitzy lobby or what was left of it.
A sparkling chandelier that once hung down from the ceiling was on the floor, posh leather seats and plant pots were overturned, and a glass balcony above had been shattered, leaving shards all over the tiled floor. A fancy restaurant had been converted into a command center for both PLA and collaborators.
There was no one manning the front desk, no one to offer a warm welcome.
Not that it mattered — they weren’t there on vacation and their plans weren’t to check in but to check out with two extra pieces of baggage.
They were treated like royalty. Bowls of fresh fruit, plates of dried meat, and a tray of crisp vegetables were laid out for Gunnar and his group in the third lounge, one of the largest in the oversized lodge. The room offered a spectacular view of the fresh spring flowing into a large pond, its backdrop a dense green forest with lush rolling hills. Bands of warm morning sunlight bathed the room. The furnishing was simple, rugged, but everything that he expected from Mad Dog. The man wasn’t one to skimp and always went with what was useful over what was high end. Several brown leather sofas were dotted around the oval-shaped room covered with plush cushions, a thick oak dining table was covered in silver décor, and surrounded by ten chairs, then at the center was a stone fireplace, and a tasteful bearskin throw rug. Sliding doors led out to a patio that looked as if it had come straight out of an outdoor magazine. Twenty black iron outdoor chairs were in a circle around a firepit.
Gunnar leaned back in a recliner chair, chewing on an apple and enjoying the panoramic view. One of the open windows let in a gentle breeze. He could feel the weight of the previous evening just slip away as he focused on the puffy clouds drifting across the blue sky.
“I wonder if they managed to find Darius,” he muttered before taking another bite of the crisp green apple. He cast a glance toward Arianna, who looked as uptight as ever.
She had her arms wrapped around her chest and was tapping her foot, moving from the bay window to the door as if expecting trouble at any minute.
“Arianna. Come on, pull up a seat.”
“Something doesn’t feel right about this.”
“Relax, take a load off, and have some fruit.”
She turned, her features turning into a concerned expression. “When was the last time you saw a place like this?”
“What?” He tossed the apple core into a small trash bin that was nearby.
Arianna strolled over and waved her hand over the buffet. “This. Fruit, vegetables, meat. An abundance of food in a time when it’s scarce. People ambling around without a care in the world.”
“I don’t see what the problem is. We had food at the camp. How’s this any different? So they laid out a nice spread. You do that for friends. He’s just being welcoming.”
“Yeah, right,” she said in a skeptical tone.
“I told you, Mad Dog has always been ahead of the curve. Look!” He pointed outside. “Over there in the distance, there’s your apple trees, over there that’s your patch where they grow their own vegetables, and meat, well, it’s not like there is a shortage of wild game. So he has lots dried out. What’s your point?” When she didn’t reply he motioned to a seat. “C’mon, sit, you’re putting me on edge.”
“Good. Maybe you should be. How long does a shower take?”
As Brooke was the only one who hadn’t bathed that morning, she’d been led down to the washrooms, where a collection of solar bags had been set up to offer warm showers.
He glanced at her. “I don’t know. She’s probably enjoying it. Leave her be, she’s been through a lot. Geesh, Arianna, you need to relax.”
Arianna shook her head and went to the door and cracked it open. “What about all these teens? Does that not strike you as odd?”
“He runs a facility for teens in the middle of nowhere. After the bombs hit they probably chose to stay or he told them to stay until their parents came.”
“And the adults?”
“Maybe the parents joined them. Maybe it’s his assistants. Seriously, Arianna, you’re acting a little paranoid.”
“But I have reason to, don’t I?” she said crossing the room.
“Sure but like I told you. I know Rick.”
“So now it’s Rick?”
He groaned, waving her off. “Rick. Mad Dog. Who cares. The two are interchangeable. Look, do we have anywhere else to go right now?” He waited, knowing she couldn’t answer. Sure, they could have remained in the forest but that was roughing it and they’d been doing that for the past month in the caves. He liked the new digs and they were out of the way, in a remote area surrounded by forest.
She shook her head and continued looking out.
“Okay, look, until we can determine where to head next, at least here we’re safe.”
“You hope,” she replied.
He ignored her for another half an hour.
When Rick showed up again, he’d been gone for a good couple of hours. Something to do with handling business. Mad Dog entered, a big broad smile stamped on his face as he entered the lounge. “My apologies. I hope everything has been to your liking.”
“Couldn’t be better,” Gunnar replied, rising from his seat. “I gotta ask you, Rick,” he said holding a piece of dried meat out. “What spices did you use on this meat? It’s ridiculously delicious.”
He laughed. “You’d have to speak to Lucy about that.”
“Lucy’s here?” Lucy was his wife of twenty-seven years. He’d figured by now he’d be divorced with the way Rick used to always harp about her bellyaching.
“Where else would she be?”
“I just…” Gunnar began to say.
Rick held up his hand and wiggled his ring finger to show the gold wedding band. “Still going strong. Which reminds me, you two must be over the twenty-year mark now. How’s it been?”
Gunnar glanced at Arianna and she frowned.
“Oh, that good,” he said with a chuckle.
“Rick, we appreciate your kindness but we won’t be staying. Do you know where Brooke is?” she asked.
He thumbed over his shoulder. “Brooke?”
“Yeah. Dark-haired. Slim. Half my age,” she said casting a glance at Gunnar as if trying to indicate he was interested in her. He wasn’t.
“Right. Yeah, she… joined the others. Now that I’m back I thought I’d introduce you to everyone. Come…” He beckoned them to follow and he led them down a long winding corridor. They strolled past several rooms, one of the doors was partially open and Gunnar caught sight of an arsenal of military weapons in green metal cases. It had the word rifles stamped on one, and grenades on another. It was a lot for one man to have.
“A nice cache you have there.”
“Gotta be ready, right?”
He nodded.
As he led them through the lodge he answered Arianna’s question about the teens as
she wasn’t convinced that after all they’d been through that their parents would have let them stay.
“It’s pretty simple really. Many of them are from the big city. When the bombs hit and soldiers rushed to the front line, a lot of children were sent to smaller towns. Instead of picking them up, they asked if the kids could stay here. It’s rural, out of the way, and let’s face it… many hands make light work, right?”
“Right,” she replied, unconvinced. “So why didn’t the PLA take them?”
“What?” he asked.
“You said they visited, told you to head into town, why didn’t they remove the teens?”
“I promised I would bring them with me.”
As much as he wanted to believe Rick wouldn’t align with the PLA, he was beginning to wonder. Gunnar knew why Arianna had asked that question because in every instance of PLA showing up in small hamlets, they had forced residents out of their homes and taken them to towns like Camdenton, Eugene, or Eldon. There was no allowance unless an agreement had been made.
“That’s rare,” Arianna replied.
Guiding them toward a large set of French doors that separated one lounge from another, Rick stopped with a hand on a door. “I agree, it is if you don’t play ball.”
He pulled back the doors and before either one of them could react, they found themselves in the crosshair of PLA rifles and staring at an amused Mayor Jefferies.
Nearby was Brooke, handcuffed and biting into a rag.
Gunnar’s nostrils flared as he looked at Rick. “You sold out?”
“I’m sorry, my friend, but to survive these days you’ve got to stay ahead of the curve and the bounty on the Hunter and resistance is far too great to ignore.”
24
Inside the convention center, it was complete pandemonium. Soldiers hurried down the interior corridors, slinging rifles over their shoulders. Collaborators looked frantic with worry as they followed orders and carried out cases of ammo while others continued to hold their post.
In such a large hotel and under the pressure of time they didn’t have the luxury of searching rooms or looking lost. That would have only attracted questions.
Instead, they walked with purpose, looking as if they knew where they were going until they slipped into the nearest conference room. It had already been established that Snow and Scarlett would head out to see what they could uncover about the whereabouts of the first lady and her daughter while Redford and Barrett waited by the door. If anyone walked in they would say they were told to hold the prisoner here until further instructions.
They were winging it, flying by the seat of their pants, and working off a small amount of information they didn’t even know was true. In the worst-case scenario, they would call in Tex and bolt to the roof to be extracted alone.
As they waited, Miles crossed the room to a whiteboard which had a detailed map of the town. The writing was in Chinese so he couldn’t make sense of it. “Any of you know Chinese?”
They shook their heads.
“So how did you get reeled into Darius’ world?” Miles asked.
“We grew up together,” Redford replied.
“And you trust him?”
“With my life.”
Miles headed over to the window and looked down. There were twelve stories to the tower, they were on the second. Outside he saw military Humvees returning, others leaving. “What about you, Barrett?”
“He saved my ass when the PLA rolled into our town. They killed what family I had left. I wanted blood and Darius has been good to his word.”
“What will happen without him?”
“Arlo is next in line.”
“Convenient.”
They looked at each other as if they knew something he didn’t. Before he could extract it from them, the door opened and a PLA soldier walked in. He said something in Chinese to Barrett but got no reply. Instead, Redford jammed a knife into the soldier’s neck and pulled him in, dragging his limp body to the far end and dumping him.
Minutes later, Snow reentered with Scarlett. Both of them looked a little spooked.
“What did you find out?” Miles asked as he crossed the room.
“The eleventh floor. We got a number. Let’s go.”
They moved quickly to the nearest stairwell and began their ascent.
“How did you get it?” he asked.
“With some strong persuasion,” Snow replied with a smirk.
“Redford, get Tex on the line, have him meet us in five on the roof.”
They double-timed it up the steps, all the while Miles kept thinking this was too easy. Something felt very off about it all. It was almost like they had been given an all-access pass. Why didn’t Maddox know about where Jo Greene was being held?
“What’s this place being used for?” He asked.
“It seems every room holds residents who have stepped out of line, are being questioned or are being given the royal treatment,” Scarlett said.
“Tortured?”
“You got it!”
His thoughts returned to Tucker and that room back in Camden Courthouse.
Knowing where the first lady and her daughter were being kept was one thing, access to that level was another. They’d made it to the tenth floor, one floor below the holding area for Jo Greene, when they were confronted by two PLA soldiers manning the stairwell. “ID!”
“Sure,” Snow said. He reached behind his back and swung around a SIG Sauer, unloading two rounds that dropped them in an instant. Miles saw the look of shock on their faces as they died. They didn’t expect it as collabs never carried, at least not these kinds. The boom of the gun had echoed and they knew others would have heard. Sure enough, one flight up someone started yelling in Chinese, raising the alarm.
Whatever time they had, they now had even less.
They knew eventually it would be an all-out war and this was where it began.
Miles unhooked the loose cuffs from his wrists and reached both hands behind his back to retrieve two Glock 19s secured into his waistband. He hurled himself up the staircase, back sliding against the wall as he held out the guns and squeezed off his first few rounds.
A soldier collapsed at the top, his body sliding down the stairs like a Slinky. Scarlett who was directly behind him relieved him of his rifle as they continued up.
On the eleventh floor, it was as he expected, multiple soldiers, ready for what was about to barge through the door. Snow had retrieved a grenade from the PLA soldier, he pulled the pin and tossed it down the corridor.
Its arrival was met by frantic yelling then followed by the familiar boom.
Unloading a grenade was met by firepower but not from their direction.
Unbeknownst to Miles, Redford and Barrett had headed down the tenth floor to the south stairwell and come up the other way. The soldiers fleeing the grenade ran straight into a barrage of gunfire. It was at that moment he remembered the value of teamwork. A lone wolf approach only got a person so far.
Those that weren’t cut down darted into rooms on either side but they weren’t many. “Ready?” Miles said, gripping the handle. Snow gave a nod and they entered, working their way down the corridor toward the room while Scarlett held her post at the door.
“Scarlett,” Miles shouted, tossing two extra magazines her way that he’d lifted from a soldier he’d just stepped over. Barrett did the same on the other end while they approached room 1103.
“You know there will be more inside,” Snow said.
He nodded. “Too bad for them,” Miles replied as both of them stood at an angle and unloaded on the door lock.
From behind them, gunfire ensued as Scarlett held back more soldiers. She must have collected a grenade off those they’d downed as he caught sight of her tossing one out into the stairwell.
Its explosion was in line with Snow kicking the door.
The staccato of gunfire continued as soldiers inside holding their post unleashed a flurry of rounds to hold them back, and to g
ive them credit, it worked.
With a heavy door between them and Jo Greene, and time ticking, they were at a disadvantage.
“We need to speed this up!” Barrett yelled. “I can’t hold them for long.”
Redford tossed another rifle to Barrett. He had his own hands full covering himself from the soldiers who had ducked into the rooms closest to the stairwell. All of them wore bulletproof vests but one round to the head, the neck, even in the leg might be all it took to end this.
“Again,” Miles said.
Snow kicked the door and then unleashed rounds as history repeated itself and soldiers unleashed hell from the other side, then it went quiet.
Were they reloading? Or simply waiting?
Like a soldier who stormed the beach of Normandy under heavy gunfire, knowing it would likely be his last moment on earth, Miles knew that what they came for lay beyond that door, and pressing forward was a risk he had to take.
The moment he heard gunfire stop, Miles’ thighs burst into action.
Chances were high he would die in a hail of bullets but if it meant the others getting her out, and throwing a wrench in the PLA’s plan, he was ready to go. Rifle in hand, finger on the trigger, some might have said it was pure adrenaline driving him, or a death wish. Either way, witnessing the horrors of the war over five years had left its mark and he was more than willing to meet death.
As he barreled through that doorway, Miles was greeted by the sight of two soldiers palming magazines into their rifles. They were crouched behind a dresser that had been pushed up into the narrow entranceway that separated the main bedroom from the bathroom off to his right. Not expecting to find another soldier inside but needing to use it for cover, his finger was on the trigger unloading a rapid three-round burst at the two as he dove through, shoulder first, landing on top of a third soldier.