Trackers 3: The Storm (A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller) Read online

  She pulled away and crouched in front of him, scanning his body for injuries in the glow of the flashlights.

  “I’m fine,” Ty said, his voice steady and strong. His eyes widened as he scanned Charlize. “You cut your hair and...you’re hurt.”

  “I’m okay, and the hair will grow back.” Charlize smiled warmly to reassure her son. Over Ty’s head, she saw the Marines removing something else from the troop hold. It was a casket, wrapped with an American flag. Ty looked over his shoulder as the Marines carried it across the grass.

  “I miss Uncle Nathan,” he said. He sniffed loudly and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

  Charlize couldn’t imagine what her boy had seen back in Colorado. The man calling himself General Dan Fenix had executed her brother right in front of Ty. The thought filled her with a mixture of rage and despair that almost made her knees buckle.

  Albert had been hanging back with the soldiers, giving Charlize a moment with Ty, but he approached now.

  “Hi, Mr. Albert,” Ty said.

  “Hey there, little man,” Albert said with a quick flash of his white teeth. He reached for the back of Ty’s wheelchair, but Charlize took his place.

  “I’ve got him,” she said. Her friend and bodyguard nodded, patted Ty on the shoulder with one massive hand, and then fell into step beside them.

  “Let’s move out!” Collins shouted.

  The Seahawk lifted back into the sky, and the soldiers jogged back toward the blast doors. While Charlize wheeled Ty across the lawn, four Marines carried the casket containing her brother’s remains.

  I’m going to kill that Nazi-loving son of a bitch Fenix, Charlize thought. No mercy, no quarters. Every single one of the Sons of Liberty soldiers will die.

  Ever since Secretary of Defense Charlize Montgomery left Estes Park, all Sam “Raven” Spears had been able to think about was ten million dollars in gold bars and revenge. It was one hell of a reward for catching General Dan Fenix, and Raven was planning on collecting the money as soon as he fixed his Jeep Cherokee and fulfilled his promise to Lieutenant Jeff Dupree and the other dead Marines Fenix had ambushed on the road.

  Days earlier, Raven had been forced to leave his most prized possession on Highway 7 about fifty miles south of town. He was heading there now, blazing down the highway on a 1970 Harley Davidson FLH.

  Estes Park Police Chief Marcus Colton had tried to stop him. Raiders had been hitting the survivors hard, striking in broad daylight east of the mountains. But Raven was determined to get his Jeep back. Ultimately, it was the promise of adding the Jeep to the police department’s fleet that had swayed Colton. There weren’t many working vehicles around, and the current department vehicles consisted of a ragtag fleet of rusty dirt bikes, a 1952 Chevy pickup truck, and a VW van.

  If Raven ran into trouble, help was just a few minutes away. Mechanic Nelson Purdue, who had quickly become one of the most valuable residents of the town, and Detective Lindsey Plymouth, the feisty redhead who somehow seemed immune to Raven’s charms, were just two miles behind. Creek, his four-legged best friend, was riding in the van with them, no doubt with his head hanging out of the window to catch the breeze.

  He twisted the throttle to give the engine some extra juice. The speedometer ticked up a few miles per hour, but at forty-five miles an hour, the bike was pretty much topped out. The fifty-year-old Harley struggled up the next hill, the engine rattling and the exhaust pipes coughing.

  At the crest of the hill, he spotted his Jeep in the dead center of the highway. It was right where he left it‌—‌and so were the bodies of the Sons of Liberty soldiers. Dark blotches marked the road where the soldiers had taken their final breaths. Raven was responsible for several of the bodies, but he didn’t feel any regret. The only thing he regretted from his encounters with the SOL was not being able to save Major Nathan Sardetti’s life.

  He twisted the throttle hard as he recalled General Dan Fenix firing a bullet point blank into the pilot’s skull. He gritted his teeth and gave the engine more gas. The bike vibrated violently, but he didn’t let up. Nathan wasn’t the first soldier Raven hadn’t been able to save. In North Korea, during the ill-fated raid that had been the catalyst for this whole mess, he had watched his friend Billy Franks torn apart by enemy fire.

  He kept his eyes closed, adrenaline soaking his muscle fibers as he pushed the bike harder. Raven knew how reckless this was. Driving blind down a highway littered with abandoned cars wasn’t much different than drinking himself stupid and playing Russian roulette.

  For months, Raven had tried so hard to bury the past, to be a better man. But no matter what he did, he always ended up making things worse. If he’d been a little faster, maybe he could have saved Nathan. And if he’d been a little smarter, he wouldn’t have made a deal with that snake, Mr. Redford, in the first place. Nile Redford’s goons had raided Estes Park’s supplies and burned down the Stanley, leaving hundreds of people homeless and hungry. Secretary Montgomery had replaced the supplies, but nothing would bring back the historic hotel.

  I’m going to make it right, he promised. No more stupid mistakes. No more wasting my chances. And no more driving blind, either.

  Raven snapped his eyes open just as the front tire was about to veer onto the shoulder. He eased off the throttle and moved the handlebars back toward the center lane, careful not to overcorrect and tip the bike. His heart slowed with the speed of the motorcycle, but he could still feel the blood pulsing in his neck.

  He parked the bike on the shoulder of the road and secured the kickstand. A black sea of burned forests surrounded him in all directions, save for the single green island where a red tent was pitched, flaps whipping in the wind.

  Raven pulled off his helmet and flipped his long hair over his shoulders. Then he unhooked his Bushmaster AR-15 from the bike. He brought up the scope for a quick scan. Charcoaled vehicles lined the highway to the south, and he saw no signs of activity since he’d abandoned the Jeep.

  There was only a flicker of motion in the sky where a bald eagle circled over the skeletal black trees. It was the first living thing he had seen since crossing into the dead zone outside of Estes Park. The air detonation had caused fires that had burned through much of the area, leaving behind a wide path of destruction.

  The eagle swooped down to pluck something out of the graveyard of pine trees. Raven stopped to watch it soar away with a snake in its talons. As the raptor climbed, the reptile writhed and wiggled, fighting for survival. After a few seconds, it dropped the snake and flew east to search for a less difficult meal.

  Raven always tried to find the meaning in Mother Nature, and this time the story seemed crystal clear. The eagle was Redford, and Raven was the snake. He would bite back when the time came.

  Just stay frosty for now, Sam.

  He stalked toward his Jeep. Most of the windows were shattered, and bullet holes peppered the panels on the passenger side and hood. He replayed the attack in his mind as he approached. Unlike many men who couldn’t seem to remember what happened after bullets started flying, Raven remembered combat as vividly as if he were watching a movie.

  Raven had climbed out of the ditch after one of the Sons of Liberty soldiers had taken his crossbow. Nathan had gone berserk as soon as they were in the open and had almost gotten both of them killed. Raven had saved Nathan’s life by burying one of his hatchets in the chest of a soldier who was about to fire on the pilot. He could still hear the crunch of metal in bone. That blade was now sheathed across Raven’s back, but his other hatchet was still lodged in Brown Feather’s skull on Prospect Mountain. There hadn’t been enough time between disasters to retrieve it.

  He shouldered his rifle as he approached the side of the Jeep. Nothing stirred behind the shattered windows, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone or something hiding inside. Raven walked by the passenger side first, peeking in at the ruined leather seat. He had put those in himself, damn it. Most of his gear was gone, lost in the Humvee that Nathan had aban
doned at the Sons of Liberty’s compound.

  But he didn’t care about a few bags of gear. He was here for his Jeep. Raven needed a reliable vehicle to track down Redford and then Fenix, and his Jeep was the only ride he trusted.

  Raven pulled out his walkie-talkie. “All clear,” he reported.

  “On our way,” Lindsey replied. It was hard to tell over the channel, but her voice seemed anxious. “Hold your position, Spears.”

  The putter of an engine sounded in the distance as Raven continued to prowl the area. He stepped over the corpse of a soldier lying on his back; something had already pecked the eyeballs out.

  Raven continued to the front of the Jeep, where three bullets had punched into the hood and another two through the windshield. At least that was still intact. He opened the hood to check the damage, even though he already knew the radiator was hit.

  The VW van emerged on the hill to the north. The local cops called it The Swag Wagon, and Raven didn’t want to think about how many times it had lived up to its name over the years. Olive green and decked out with shag carpet and tie-dye curtains, the van looked like it had dropped out of time warp into modern-day Colorado. The cough of the ancient engine was worse than the old Harley’s. Any raiders would have heard it coming from ten miles away. He scanned the southern road to make sure no one had snuck up on them. The way appeared clear, and he went back to checking under the hood of his Jeep.

  The faster they got his baby fixed, the quicker he could get on with things. Plus, he’d promised Sandra and Allie he would be back for dinner.

  Lindsey parked the van behind the Jeep and hopped out with a shotgun in hand. A short man with a gray mustache emerged from the passenger side. Nelson Purdue rolled up the sleeves of his coveralls, showing off the Navy tattoos on his burly forearms.

  Raven let Creek out of the back of the van. The dog licked his hand and barked, his way of scolding Raven for leaving him behind. Then he trotted over and pissed on the side of the road.

  “What the hell? You didn’t say there were going to be dead guys out here,” Nelson said in a stunned voice. He stared at the corpse to the left of the Jeep. Creek joined them and sniffed the body.

  “Back,” Raven ordered. The dog walked over to him and sat on his hind legs.

  Nelson shifted his gaze from Raven to Lindsey. “Is it safe out here?”

  “Just focus on the Jeep,” Lindsey said. “Let us worry about security.”

  He spat on the ground. “I ain’t no coward. I served in Korea, and I don’t want to get my ass shot up again.”

  Raven smiled at Lindsey as she pumped a shell into her shotgun.

  “No one’s going to be shooting you,” she said.

  Nelson avoided looking at any more of the corpses as he grabbed his tool bag from the van. Death was new to most of the residents of Estes Park. Most of them had lived a quiet and peaceful life, sheltered from the world. Even veterans like Nelson were shaken by the aftermath of the North Korean attacks.

  “You said it’s the radiator?” Nelson asked.

  “Yeah, take a look for yourself,” Raven said. He stepped away from the propped hood and joined Lindsey on the side of the road. Creek, ears perked and alert, sniffed the air and then nudged up against Raven.

  “Can’t believe Colton sent me out here to babysit you,” Lindsey muttered.

  “Did you have something better to do?”

  She twisted her lips to the side. “Only about a hundred things. And getting a drink with you isn’t included in the list, if you were wondering.”

  “Is that the hundred and first thing on the list? Because that’s not too bad. I can wait.”

  She pulled a water bottle from her cargo pocket, took a swig, and then offered it to Raven. “This is the only drink you will ever get with me.”

  “I promise not to tease you too much about being wrong,” he said with a smirk.

  “You don’t give up, do you, Sam?”

  “Never.”

  Lindsey rolled her eyes, but he could see she was trying not to smile. He wondered if she had anyone out there. She never spoke of her family or friends. She just did her job and kept to herself. Maybe she would open up to him eventually, but it wasn’t going to be anytime soon. Raven liked the challenge, and there would be plenty of time to work her down until she finally accepted his offer.

  For now, they guarded Nelson in silence, no more jokes or half-assed attempts at flirting. Raven and Lindsey both knew how dangerous it was out on the open road.

  “Looks like you’re right, Raven. The radiator was dinged and the serpentine belt is toast,” Nelson reported as he looked up from the engine. “Can’t fix it out here. We need a tow truck.”

  “Well, we don’t have one, so do what you can and hurry up,” Lindsey said. “I don’t want to be out here all day.”

  She cradled her shotgun and walked away, leaving Raven and Nelson looking at one another.

  “She always like that?” Nelson whispered.

  Raven chuckled. “Sometimes she’s worse.”

  Nelson walked back to the van to get supplies and Raven followed Lindsey to the shoulder of the road, where she stood looking at the red tent.

  “Nathan and I saw that too. Gotta wonder who was camping out there and what happened to ’em.”

  “They’re dead, like everyone else,” she said coldly.

  Raven didn’t reply, but she was probably right. He slung his AR-15 over his back and crouched in front of Creek. “Stay here, buddy. I’ll be right back.”

  Lindsey looked over her shoulder, brows arched. “Where you going?”

  “To get my bike.”

  “You shouldn’t have parked it so far away in the first place.”

  Raven shook his head again. Damn. He was used to attitude, but Lindsey was really in a bad mood today.

  He burned some energy in the short jog to his bike. The bruises and cuts were finally starting to heal, but he ached like an old man. Still, things could be worse. If it weren’t for his sister, the wounds would have probably become infected. She had made a point of cleaning them every day and pulled some strings at the hospital to ensure he had plenty of antibiotic ointment and clean bandages.

  Creek’s bark stopped Raven mid-stride a few feet from his motorcycle. He turned and brought his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. Lindsey was pointing her shotgun at two figures walking down the highway from the south.

  Raven hopped on the bike and started the engine. These were the first people he’d seen out here in days, and his gut told him right away they were dangerous. Lindsey must have had the same thought. She directed Nelson to stay behind the Jeep. Creek stood his ground, snarling.

  “Stay back!” Raven shouted as he zipped toward the newcomers.

  “Raven, be careful!” Lindsey shouted after him.

  He held back a grin‌—‌maybe she did care after all. He focused on the two figures that were making their way down the highway, a man and a woman from what he could tell, neither of them armed that he could see. That didn’t mean they weren’t hiding weapons in their coats. One hundred yards away, he eased off the gas and came to a stop.

  “Stay where you are!” he shouted again, unslinging his rifle.

  The people held up their hands and did as ordered. He dismounted his bike and put up the kickstand, and then slowly made his way toward the couple. They appeared to be in their mid-forties, although it was hard to tell with the dirt smeared across their faces. Both of them carried large backpacks over filthy coats and brown tactical pants with cargo pockets.

  “Who are you, and where are you headed?” Raven demanded.

  The man remained where he was and didn’t lower his hands. Raven got the sense they had both had guns pointed at them before.

  “Estes Park,” the man said. “We heard they have food and medicine from an air drop a few days ago. My wife needs insulin.”

  Raven scrutinized them from his position. The man had a thick beard, cracked lips, and dirt smeared over his wri
nkled forehead. His brown eyes were kind, though. Not the hardened eyes of a killer.

  “How did you hear about the drop?” Raven asked.

  The woman exchanged a glance with her husband. He nodded and she said, “Someone reported it over a radio channel. Is it true?”

  Raven bit back the urge to curse. If what she said was correct‌—‌and he had no reason to believe it wasn’t‌—‌then Estes Park was going to see an influx of refugees very soon. He had to get back to town.

  “Will you please let us pass?” the man asked.

  Raven heaved a sigh. “I’m from Estes Park. If you have a useful skill, like anything with medicine or engineering, they might let you past the barriers.”

  “I’m an electrical engineer,” the man said. He took a step forward, and Raven took a step back. What the hell were the odds the guy would be an engineer?

  There was fear in the man’s eyes now, and something else‌—‌desperation, maybe. Both were equally dangerous.

  “What about you, ma’am?” Raven asked.

  “I’m a…a nurse.”

  Raven heard footsteps behind him, but didn’t take his eyes off the couple. Lindsey stepped up with her shotgun levelled to stand beside him. Creek was right behind her. He trotted over, not meeting Raven’s eyes, knowing damn well he’d broken a command.

  “Sit,” Raven hissed. The dog sat on his haunches.

  “Where are you folks from?” Lindsey asked.

  “Laramie,” the man replied.

  Raven chuckled wryly. “Yeah, right. You’re from Wyoming?”

  “Yes,” the man said, his eyes narrowed. “We left Laramie a few days after the bombs went off.”

  Raven wiped the grin off his face. It made no sense; Wyoming was to the north. “Why are you coming from the south then?”

  “We took 34 first but had to backtrack due to the raiders,” the man replied.

  His wife nodded along as he spoke and then picked up the story. “We didn’t think we were going to make it. We’re the only ones left. The others...”

  Raven directed his gaze at her. “Others?”