Trackers: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Thriller Read online

  “Fuck,” Colton whispered. He put on a pair of rubber gloves and put a finger to her ghostly pale skin to check for a pulse.

  Raven looked away to scan the meadow for any sign of movement. Whoever was out there was well hidden. Creek dropped one of her shoes and sniffed the air.

  A flash of lightning arced into the trees to the north, sparks raining onto the forest floor. The clap of thunder that followed rumbled for several moments, like nature herself was screaming at the injustice of Melissa’s death. The pointless death of this little girl disturbed the balance of the world.

  “I’m sorry,” Raven said.

  Colton didn’t reply. He slowly rolled the girl onto her back, exposing the gash across her neck. Raven shook his head and forced himself to look away.

  “What kind of animal does this to a little girl?” Colton said. He let out a long sigh and stared before finally reaching down to close her eyes.

  Raven caught a drift of what smelled like burned flesh. He raised his bow into the darkness, finger hovering over the trigger. He still felt eyes on them.

  “What is it?” Colton whispered. “You think the guy that did this is still out there?” He slowly rose to stand next to Raven. “I’ll kill the bastard with my bare hands.”

  Frozen like a statue, Raven scrutinized the terrain, waiting for lightning to illuminate the meadow. Whoever had done this was playing some sort of a sick game, and Raven and Colton were just pawns. If the guy wanted them dead, they would already be bleeding out next to Melissa. Chances were, he was observing from a safe distance and taking pleasure in the terrible thing he had done.

  “Jesus,” Colton muttered. He had bent back down and was brushing the leaves and dirt off Melissa’s legs. Then the barbeque smell made sense—both of her legs were burned to the knee.

  Raven’s guts ached at the sight, a memory surfacing from the dark place where he kept the evil he had witnessed in Iraq. This wasn’t the first child he had seen burned. But Melissa’s injuries weren’t from an explosion. Someone had done this to her deliberately.

  Something about the way her feet and lower legs had been burned reminded him of something that he couldn’t quite place. This memory was older than the war, something from his childhood. Growing up on the Rez, he’d been raised on Cherokee folktales, and in one of those stories, demons known as Water Cannibals would kidnap victims and roast them, feet first, over their bonfires.

  Raven shuddered. He’d hated that story when he was a kid, but surely this was just a terrible coincidence. The Water Cannibals weren’t real—and from his experience, humans were much crueler and more brutal than any monster.

  Colton’s voice pulled Raven back to the mountains.

  “You with me, man?” he asked.

  Raven nodded, keeping the story to himself. Only Cherokees would have known of the story, and there weren’t many of them around in these parts besides him and his sister. No way in hell was he about to give Colton a reason to arrest him again.

  Colton began whispering something under his breath that might have been a prayer. They waited there for several moments before Raven gave the all clear. The sensation of being watched had finally passed.

  Colton pulled his radio from his belt and said, “Don, you copy? Over.”

  Thunder rolled in the distance. The storm was moving to the east, but the rumble drowned out the crackle of static from the radio in Colton’s hand.

  Don came online a moment later. “Roger that, sir. Just arrived at the station. You on your way back?”

  Lips trembling, Colton said, “We found Melissa.” He paused, sucked in a breath, exhaled. “She’s gone. Call the medical examiner and get ‘em up to the Ypsilon and Lawn Lake trailhead ASAP.”

  White noise broke over the channel. The growl of thunder sounded again. Raven glanced at the sky. Odd. He heard the thunder, but where was the lightning? The weather in the Rocky Mountains could be strange, but something about this storm seemed off.

  “Don, did you get my last, over?” Colton said.

  Raven looked down at the radio. The screen was blank, and when Colton turned the knob, nothing happened.

  “Shit,” Colton said, smacking the side of the radio. “Batteries were fine when I checked this morning.”

  Raven went back to staring at the sky, zoning everything else out, his brown eyes searching for the source of the rising thunder. The edge of the storm had rolled to the east and the rain was letting up, but the roar continued to reverberate off the mountain peaks.

  “What are you looking at?” Colton asked.

  “I—I’m not sure.”

  Just then a pair of F-16s raced over the distant peaks and roared southwest over the valley below. He lowered his crossbow to watch the silhouetted jets tear through the cloud cover under the moonlight. The pair suddenly broke away from one another, peeling off in different directions.

  One of the aircraft roared toward Estes Park. At least, that’s the direction he thought it was headed, but when he looked, the glow of artificial light was gone. Was he disoriented, or was the town dark?

  “Chief …,” Raven began to say.

  Colton pushed himself up to stand next to Raven. The jets appeared to be slowing as they swooped toward the valley. The lead aircraft’s nose dipped so low it looked like the pilot was attempting a dive.

  “Something’s not right,” Colton said.

  Creek bared his teeth, growling in a low tone. Raven was kneeling down to calm the dog when one of the jets veered in their direction. The pilot jerked to the right, trying to avoid the peaks, but it was like he had no control over the plane. The fighter tore overhead, the roar so loud it hurt Raven’s ears. The air current bent the tips of the ponderosas and ripped the baseball cap from his head, sending it rolling across the meadow.

  Raven ducked down as the current slammed into him and Colton bent over Melissa’s body like he was trying to protect her.

  The jet smashed into the summit of Mummy Mountain, a fiery blast blooming across the snowy peak. Raven shielded his eyes from the explosion. The second fighter impacted with a cliff in the distance a few seconds later.

  “My God,” Colton said quietly.

  They stood over Melissa’s body and stared in shock at the fires. Neither of them said a word until Raven broke the silence.

  “Did you see anyone eject?”

  Colton shook his head.

  “Must have had some sort of malfunction, right Chief?”

  “Both of them?” Colton shook his head again.

  “What the hell were they doing out here, though?”

  Colton bent down to pick up Melissa and Raven crouched to help.

  “I’ve got her,” the police chief insisted.

  Raven held up his hands and turned back to the valley. Estes Park had gone dark. The only lights out there now were the fires from the downed jets. The scene transported him back to the rescue mission at the North Korean prison eighteen months ago. In his mind’s eye, he pictured the Black Hawk pulling away from the compound as Staff Sergeant Nixon detonated the C4. The scene had looked a lot like this as they’d flown over the dark terrain in the pitch black of night with only the fires flickering in the distance.

  Raven had never expected to see such utter darkness here at home.

  Sandra Spears sat patiently in her Toyota Corolla, listening to the light rain as it beat down on the roof. The warmth from the seat heaters was slowly fading, and she was cold in her scrubs. If she couldn’t get the car started soon, she’d be late for her shift at the medical center. The prospect of walking in the cold rain wasn’t appealing, but it seemed like she might not have a choice.

  Twenty minutes earlier, the car had lost power, and it had coasted to the side of Highway 34 about two miles from town. Hers wasn’t the only stranded vehicle. For the hour, traffic was heavy. Tourists had been returning from Rocky Mountain National Park, their vacations spoiled by the storm. The vague outlines of other stalled cars were littered down the highway.

 
; One moment she had been thinking about her nightly routine at the hospital— what the staffing ratio would be, and if Doctor Newton had written broad enough orders to cover the multitude of issues they usually dealt with on a Friday night. The next she was in a dream-like state, unable to comprehend the events unfolding around her as fighter jets fell from the sky and her faithful Corolla died.

  She reached for her phone to call her brother again, but there still wasn’t a signal. It was like someone had flipped a switch and everything, including her damn car, had stopped working.

  Even in the rain, the fires from the wreckage continued to burn in the distance. She tilted her head for a better view, catching her reflection in the rearview mirror. Even in the dim light she looked exhausted. Her long black hair was trying to escape from its braid, and purple bags hung under her brown eyes.

  Sandra had been under a lot of stress at work and at home lately, but it was the note she had found on her car earlier that day that had left her feeling rattled. She’d decided to drive through Rocky Mountain National Park before her shift to clear her mind.

  At least Allie was safe. Well, relatively safe. Her daughter was staying with her father at his new home in Loveland, Colorado. Mark was an addict, and even though he had been clean for a year, it wasn’t until just recently Sandra had agreed to overnight visits once a week.

  Ever since Allie told her about the man outside their house, Sandra had been paranoid about letting the girl out of her sight. Mark had laughed off her worries, telling her she was overreacting as usual. Now that her car wasn’t working, she felt helpless, like she was a world away from Allie even though it was only thirty miles to Loveland.

  Sandra opened her purse and pulled out the cryptic note she had found and read it again. It still didn’t make any sense to her, and she didn’t recognize the bold, almost childlike printing.

  THE STORM IS COMING.

  “Hey!” someone shouted. She flinched and dropped the paper on her lap.

  A man dressed in jeans, cowboy boots, and a sweatshirt was slowly making his way from car to car. She cracked her door open to listen, trying not to let in any rain.

  “Does anyone know what’s going on?” he asked as he passed other cars. The man was soaked to the bone, but he didn’t seem to notice. Sandra didn’t recognize him, and instantly labeled the man as a tourist.

  He straightened a baseball cap as he approached her car. His sweatshirt read Colorado Springs Auto Clinic. If anyone knew what was going on with the cars, he should.

  As he drew closer, however, Sandra reconsidered asking the man for help. His eyes were roving and seemed unfocused, and his hands were shaking. Her trained nurse’s eye picked up on the signs immediately—the signs that she’d ignored in Mark for far too long. She would never forget the crazed look in her ex-husband’s eyes when he was using. It was a look she should have known. The same one her father had shown when he drank heavily, and it was near identical to the gaze of her ex-boyfriend Mike Tankala back on the Rez after he used peyote. For her entire life she had ignored the signs. But those days were over.

  Sandra closed her door as discreetly as possible and locked it.

  The patter of rain slowed to single drops, then to nothing. Sandra closed her eyes, breathing softly in the sudden quiet. That’s all she needed. Just a few moments of quiet to figure out what she should do. The sound of knuckles rapping on the window snapped her eyes open. She looked up to see the man with the baseball cap flash a nervous smile and bend down toward her door. She met his eyes and saw that the guy wasn’t strung out—he was just scared.

  Not every man is an asshole or an addict, she reminded herself.

  “Ma’am, excuse me, do you have any idea what’s going on?”

  Sandra unlocked the door and cracked it open warily. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Figured you might know about the cars. Are you a mechanic or something?”

  The man raised his eyebrows. “No, why? Oh,” he said looking down at his shirt. “No, I just sell the cars.”

  A crowd had gathered at the edge of the road to stare at the fires dotting the mountains. The man pointed at them.

  “It doesn’t make any sense. How could they have all gone down like that? How is that possible?” Panic was rising in his voice.

  Shaking her head, Sandra said, “I have no idea.”

  The man continued to the next car, and Sandra made her decision. Help wasn’t coming. Her North Face jacket would keep her warm enough for the long walk, and she had bottled water in her bag. Raven had insisted she keep a knife in the glove compartment after she’d refused to buy a gun, and had shown her how to use it. She tucked the sheath into her waistband, and locked her car door manually when the automatic lock button didn’t work.

  Once she reached the hospital and figured out what was going on, she would find a way to contact Mark and get to Allie. She tried not to worry as she slung her backpack over her shoulders.

  One thing at a time, Sandra, she thought. Allie is safe for now, and it’s not that far into town. You can do this.

  After taking in a deep breath, she broke into a trot, her tennis shoes pounding the wet concrete. If she jogged most of the way, she would reach civilization again in thirty minutes.

  The distant glow of Estes Park was gone on the horizon, but she knew this road. The turnoff for the Alluvial Fan and Lawn Lake was about a quarter mile behind her. That meant she was pretty close to the park entrance.

  “Where you going?” Mr. Colorado Springs shouted after her.

  “To get help,” Sandra replied. “Just stay here and stay calm, okay?”

  She opted for the rocky dirt path along Fall River to avoid more questions and other stranded drivers. The water babbled to her right, cascading over rocks. A natural fence of bushes and trees ran along the side of the river, wind tickling the tips of the branches. She loved it up here. The aroma of the ponderosas, the jagged snowy peaks, the collage of colors, the wildlife—and, most of all, the constant murmur of running water. It all helped take her mind off whatever lousy thing was happening in her life.

  The first time she had visited Raven here eighteen months ago, it was supposed to have just been a vacation, but these mountains had quickly become her home. The Rez had sucked the life out of her. Rocky Mountain National Park had breathed it back in.

  But Sandra always felt like she was running from someone. First her father, then Mike Tankala, and finally her ex-husband. Now that Mark had moved to Loveland she was finally free of those men, but she still felt like someone was chasing her.

  Ten minutes into the run, her foot hit a root, snapping her alert just in time to brace herself as she tripped and fell.

  “Stupid, stupid,” Sandra hissed. She got to her knees and wiped the mud from her hands onto the grass. As she did, she caught a glimpse of something hanging from a tree across the river. It looked like a plastic sheet draped over the top of the pine tree.

  Never in her life had she seen trash out here. The rangers and volunteers kept the park immaculate, and most visitors obeyed the littering laws.

  Curious, she worked her way carefully down to the water’s edge. The green tarp was hard to see at first, almost camouflaged. Her breath caught in her chest when she realized it was a parachute.

  “Ma’am?” came a voice.

  Sandra whirled in a defensive position with her fists up, just like Raven had taught her, as a man wearing a flight suit and holding a helmet limped out of the underbrush. He held up his free hand.

  “Whoa, it’s okay, ma’am. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  She slowly lowered her fists as he stepped forward, the moonlight revealing the handsome, chiseled face of a man in his mid-thirties with a full head of brown hair and sharp green eyes.

  “I sprained my ankle pretty bad and need to get to the nearest town as quickly as possible,” he said. “Can you point me in the right direction?”

  Sandra gave him the elevator eyes treatment. His olive drab flight suit was soaked up to
his waist, and his boots were covered in mud. He limped a step closer, grimacing as he looked up at the road above.

  “I’m a nurse,” Sandra said without thinking.

  The pilot’s eyes flitted back to hers in the moonlight. “Then I’d be grateful if you took a look at my ankle real quick.”

  Sandra hesitated and then pulled off her backpack and set it on the ground. She carried a medical kit with her everywhere.

  “Take a seat on that rock,” Sandra said, pointing toward a boulder.

  “Thanks,” he said, limping over to take a seat. “My name’s Nathan, by the way. Major Nathan Sardetti.”

  She smiled thinly at him. “Sandra. Nice to meet you.”

  “How far are we from the nearest town? Did you see the other pilot eject?”

  Sandra opened her med kit, talking as she worked. “Two miles or so from Estes Park, maybe less. I didn’t see anyone else. Can’t you call them on your radio?”

  When Nathan didn’t reply, Sandra asked, “What happened to your plane?” She carefully cut through his flight suit and started wrapping the sprain.

  “I’m not authorized to say, ma’am.” He craned his neck at the road. “Please hurry. I need to get to that town.”

  Sandra tightened the wrapping and narrowed her eyes. “Major, I may be just a nurse, but I know fighter jets don’t drop out of the air like that. So are you going to tell me what’s going on or what?”

  Nathan cleared his throat as if he was considering his next words carefully.

  “The United States has just been attacked.”

  -4-

  Colton carefully carried Melissa’s body, wrapped in his coat, down the trailhead. The rain had let up, but his heart was still racing. He had faced a hard decision: leave her there and hope the coyotes didn’t get to her before they could return with the medical examiner, or bring her body home to her parents.

  Protocol would have been to leave her so the crime scene could be preserved and documented accurately, but things had changed when those jets crashed. He’d done what any father would have done. Rex and Lilly didn’t deserve to wait any longer to get their little girl back.