A New World: Reckoning (2 page)

The last of the packaged gear rattles across the hard floor and comes to a halt, bringing silence with it. Drescoll looks at the ruin in the aisle, blood gathering in pools among the bodies and spilled items, and running in streams across the uneven floor. He calmly ejects the almost spent mag from his carbine and replaces it and places it in a pouch on his vest.

He stands for a few moments, listening to the quiet for any sound that may signify a night runner approaching. Although he is lost in his current state of mind, that doesn’t mean that he isn’t aware of what the creatures can do. He knows they are wily and can switch tactics in a heartbeat. Glancing at the rafters overhead, he assures himself that they aren’t moving in for an aerial assault. Satisfied that the store is truly clear, Drescoll begins gathering items from the shelves and stows them in the rear seats of the Humvee.

Loaded with supplies, he stands next to the vehicle and gazes at the afternoon sky. The adrenaline from the fight and the effort of carting supplies leaves a sheen of sweat across his face, which is chilled by the afternoon breeze. As clouds drift lazily across the sky, Drescoll experiences a feeling of disassociation, like he is just an observer to his actions. The deep-seated anger he felt a short time ago has turned into a feeling of numbness. Only if he consciously thinks about things, pulls inside of himself, does he feel the emotions return.

Looking north toward where the compound lies, he sighs. Opening the Humvee, he climbs in. The closing door echoes forlornly off the façades of the nearby buildings, mimicking the fading echoes of emotion within his mind.

Farther south, Drescoll takes an exit to a highway that leads to one of the mountains passes. The road meanders past man-made lakes and over bridges with tall fir and cedar trees lining the road, growing right up to the edge. They present a calmness that eventually pushes through some of the mental blocks that
Drescoll
created.

The route begins a gentle climb as he enters the foothills, and then ascends in earnest a short time later. Steep cliffs rise above a river that tumbles over boulders and around fallen trees, the turbulent stream making its way out of the mountains on its journey to the sea. Atop the cliffs, trees are bathed in sunlight.

Near the top of the pass, a low rumble penetrates the cab of the Humvee, overriding the sound of the diesel engine. Recognizing the sound, he pulls over at the next exit; a dirt road used for logging. Making sure he doesn’t leave a dust rail, he drives in amongst the trees, exits the vehicle, and begins looking for the 130, its sound drawing closer.

Surely they can’t be looking for him already
.

He knows Jack and the crew of the aircraft went out on a scouting mission, but that doesn’t preclude that someone could have already found the body and radioed. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out who did it.

Beams of sunlight penetrate through breaks in the forest, lighting patches of ground, shining upon insects as they pass through the rays. There isn’t much sky to be seen as he gazes through the tops of the trees, but he observes the shape of a 130 in the distance as it passes through the gaps. Drescoll hopes they aren’t using thermal imaging or he’ll readily show up on their screens and they’ll fly over to investigate.

The aircraft drones by, the rumble of its engines slowly fading until there is only the sound of his idling Humvee. Allowing some time to pass to ensure that the 130 doesn’t return, he climbs back in.

From the vantage point of where
Drescoll
was parked, the Humvee enters the road. The sound of shifting gears accentuates the acceleration as the vehicle gains speed. It grows smaller by the second, taking the driver with it.

Rounding a curve in the road, both vehicle and driver vanish from view, leaving an empty road lined with trees, their tall tops reaching for the sunlight, swaying as strong breezes blow through.

Greg watches the streamers of smoke rising in the air. As he continues to observe from his elevated platform, another dark, oily plume appears, its dark smoke climbing rapidly. Then another…and another. He knows this sight, having seen it numerous times during his deployments overseas. It is vehicles being set alight by heavy caliber fire. Another dark cloud of smoke rises in the afternoon sky. The latest plumes are larger…whoever is causing them is heading his way and drawing closer.

“Driver….go! Everyone hang on,” Greg yells into the interior. To the two standing by the side of the road, he shouts, “Follow us if you want, but I wouldn’t advise being here in about ten minutes.”

The Stryker lurches as it surges forward, throwing Greg backward. Glancing to the rear, he notes the two men they just encountered scurry to the doors of their vehicle. With a screech of tires and flinging gravel in its wake, the truck turns a one-eighty and follows. Satisfied that they are trailing, Greg shoves the two men from his mind and concentrates on the scene behind.

He doesn’t see any vehicles or airborne equipment, but the indication that they are around is unmistakable. It could be that they are friendly, but with only one armored vehicle and a single team, Greg isn’t sticking around to find out. Whoever is out there has more firepower than he can bring to bear…and they are using it.

“Where are we heading?” the driver shouts.

“Away from that,” Greg replies, pointing in the direction of the rising plumes.

“South it is.”

Greg is hoping that they can get clear of the area before they are discovered. Sensing that he is witnessing a battle between two opposing groups, one of which apparently raided Fort Carson and ‘liberated’ some of the vehicles, Greg has no desire to get caught up in it. He and his team could very easily be viewed as an enemy by either side and fired upon. Therefore, he wants to get some distance away from the forces that are carrying their battle in his direction.

As the Stryker gains speed, another dark, oily smoke plume blossoms skyward in the near distance. Whoever is out there is heavily armed. Greg stands in the cupola, focusing on the column of smoke with his binoculars. The jostling of the Stryker prevents a clear picture from forming; he can’t see any vehicles, though a dust cloud drifting upward indicates that someone is heading their way and coming at high speed.

Looking toward the mountains to the west, their eastern slopes rising sharply and hidden in shadow from the lowering sun, Greg thinks to gain some height in order to get a clearer picture of what is happening behind them. Looking at the map fluttering in his hand as a chill wind blows past, he sees that there aren’t any immediate roads leading west. Glancing to the rear once again, he notes that there aren’t any further plumes but the size of the dust cloud indicates that someone is still charging hard in their direction.

Nearing the northern outskirts of Pueblo, Greg orders the Stryker onto a highway heading west. The road advances into the heart of the Rocky Mountains through a gap between two monstrously tall ridgelines.

The pickup follows close behind and offset in the other lane to keep clear of the dust being kicked up by the large vehicle. The group quickly leaves behind any semblance of built-up areas. Industrial yards and large housing developments abruptly give way to wide-open, light brown barren plains, their starkness broken by a gullies and waterways streaming from the mountains to the west. Before long, the road begins to ascend, slightly at first and then steepening.

Ahead, a side road leads up one of the only hills rising above the plains. With Greg still unable to make out the type of vehicles behind, he orders the driver to take the road so that they can get a better look at what they’re facing.

“Sir, if we can see them, they’ll be able to see us,” the driver replies, slowing the Stryker.

“I’m aware of that but we need to know what we may be up against,” Greg states.

The large vehicle leaves the highway and immediately begins a climb up the side of the hill with the pickup following in their dust. Gaining a measure of elevation above the flats, Greg has the Stryker halted.

Standing atop the vehicle, his back chilled from cold air sweeping out of the mountains, he looks to the plain below through his binoculars. As he adjusts the focus, vibrations from the idling Stryker rise through the soles of his boots. Two faint dust clouds rise in the direction of Pueblo, a short distance to the east. One of the clouds continues south along the interstate, passing through the northern sections of the large city. The other, however, takes the same highway that he and the others turned onto.

Working the zoom level, Greg brings the approaching vehicles into clearer view. His heart jumps into his throat at what the sight brings; multiple columns of vehicles on the highway approaching at high speed; four Strykers and ten Humvees, with an accompanying tanker truck that is partially hidden. They are spread across all lanes of the road, their tires stirring the dust which drifts into the air behind them.

Looking closer at the larger armored vehicles, Greg notes the long barrels jutting in front.

Fuck me. That’s not good. They have 105mm cannons
, Greg thinks as he looks to the other group heading south.

From what he is able to see of the second group, they appear to be made up of roughly the same number and types of vehicles. Quickly putting away the binoculars and clambering back inside, Greg gets the feeling that his small team was spotted some time ago. He hopes the two groups split because they don’t know where he is and are searching for him. He has no idea why they might be chasing him, but that’s not important at the moment. The fact is, there are a significant number of armored vehicles rapidly approaching and he’s not about to stick around to find out what their intentions may be.

“Get us the fuck out of here…and yesterday!” Greg tells the driver.

Greg glances at the others crammed together within the limited space of the interior. All eyes are on him; the ones they rescued wide open with fear, the soldiers waiting to hear what is happening. Shouting over the sound of the Stryker’s revving engine as it makes its way off the hill, Greg informs them of what he saw.

“We’re heading west into the mountains in order to create some distance from the nearest group and hopefully lose them. If we can gain enough space, we should be able to lose them when it becomes dark, which will be in a couple of hours,” Greg says, finishing his brief.

“We’re going to need fuel soon, sir,” the driver reports.

“Do we have enough to make it until dark?” Greg asks.

“We should have enough, sir. But we’ll need it shortly thereafter.”

“Very well. We’ll deal with that when it comes. We have a few full canisters that we can use if we need to,” Greg states.

Greg hopes that, if they can create a margin of distance between them and the armored vehicles to their rear, the group will give up the chase. After all, they won’t want to venture very far from their encampment just to chase down a lone Stryker. At the very least, if they can survive until darkness arrives, they’ll be able to lose the others on side roads. With these thoughts in mind as they enter the valley between the tall ridges, Greg has the Stryker pushed to full speed, sacrificing fuel consumption in order to gain some distance.

They cross several bridges spanning deep ravines created from the runoff of the surrounding peaks. The sun sinks behind the lofty mountaintops, sending flares of light streaking through the gaps. Rounding a corner in the road as it ascends into the higher terrain, a darkened outline of a city appears. Hidden in the shadows of a valley and nestled up against the sharply rising mountains to the west, the town spreads out on both sides of the highway.

“Sir?” the driver queries, slowing the Stryker.

Before, they had approached towns cautiously and circumvented them if possible.

“Push through it,” Greg orders. “We’re dealing with a certainty behind us compared with an unknown ahead.”

The Stryker lurches forward as the driver throttles up. Gaining momentum, they enter the outskirts of the city. Shadowy outlines of schools and shopping centers roll by on either side as the armored vehicle races along the split, multi-laned highway. Greg considers turning down one of the side streets leading farther into town, but a glance at the map shows that there is only one road leading in and out of the town. Gullies and ravines that surround the city will prevent any other escape. If the group behind notices their tracks leading off the main road, which they no doubt would, they can easily block off the city and corner them in the streets.

They pass several gas stations and small industrial complexes with semis parked in the lots. Greg notes these with a sigh, wanting to exit and drain their tanks of fuel. However, he doesn’t know if those behind are still chasing them or how close they might be.

Streets branch off the highway; the deep shadows of dusk covering the town prevent any clear view down them. On the far side of the city, the road makes a sharp ninety-degree turn and begins a steep climb up the side of a ridge. Standing in the open cupola, Greg feels the rush of cold air past his cheeks. With the sun disappearing behind the mountains, casting the land in shadow, the air quickly chills. As they gain altitude, he is able to see over the city to the east.

The gloom of the early evening prevents a clear view, but he sees unmistakable signs of the armored group entering the city on the far side. They have their blackout lights running which cast thin beams of light on the road just in front of them. At least one question has been answered, whoever is after them is still charging hard. And, with the Stryker climbing along the ridgeline, if they weren’t spotted earlier, they surely will be now.

Greg still doesn’t have the faintest idea why anyone would be chasing them or how they were spotted earlier. The worry he had upon leaving the base with such a small team is now coming to a reality. They can’t hope to stand up to a force such as the one rushing after them. Perhaps if their Stryker was one with a 105mm cannon instead of the .50 cal, the narrow valleys of the mountains would offer them the smallest of chances. They could lie in wait and take out the lead vehicle, effectively blocking the route until it could be cleared off to the side. In this way, they could conduct hit-and-run operations but, with only the .50 cal on top, there’s no hope of accomplishing anything except run.

Greg has no way of knowing what the status is of the two men following. For now, they’ll have to fend for themselves with regards to gathering fuel. Any delay will allow the ones behind to close in on them. Another hour will bring total darkness. They’ll have to stop soon after night falls to refuel their own tanks and then, hopefully lose their pursuers. The road ahead consists of two lanes leading through a mountain pass. It won’t be hard to guess which way they went, but there are a few choices farther along. That may slow down or lose their pursuers altogether, and they can opt to turn off onto one of the dirt roads leading into the hills. Greg is hesitant about that option as there is only one way in or out.

Angling farther up the ridge, Greg eventually loses sight of the town and of those chasing them. As they finally scale the climb and turn due west, the deepening shadows slow their ability to advance due to the diminishing sight distance. Not wanting to turn on their own black-out driving lights, they use the day-night thermal imaging in order to stay on the road, which is difficult to keep track of as the dirt covering the surface blends with the surrounding terrain.

Cresting the ridge, the road levels and crosses an upper plateau which allows the Stryker to pick up speed. At the end of the tableland, Greg comes face-to-face with his first big decision. The road splits; one road continuing west through rough terrain, the other heading to the northwest. It’s not a matter of whether to abandon the mission or not, that is no longer a factor. It’s a matter of which direction will help them the most.

If they turn to the northwest, they’ll be on a route back to the compound. Even though that trip will take days to accomplish, every mile will bring them that much closer. The route to the west will allow them to eventually make their way back to the south, which will put them closer to the route given to Jack.

Greg knows that Jack is a man of his word. He will be returning to pick them up as soon as he can. That could be any time now and may mean getting their butts out of the fire more quickly. Even though it’s the more obvious route, being part of the major highway, Greg decides to continue their flight west. If they need to, they can pick up a road farther on that will take them to the northwest.

Greg brings the Stryker to a quick halt and hops down. The two men in the truck pull up next to him. Without wasting words, Greg explains their situation to the two bearded men. He points up the road leading to the northwest and gives directions to the compound at Cabela’s. He can’t take the time to shepherd the two and directs them to take the road that will eventually lead them to the northwest.

With a word of thanks, the men take the suggested fork. Climbing quickly back in the Stryker, Greg orders the driver through the intersection. They will be heading west where the road begins a winding climb into yet another mountain pass. With the engine laboring up the incline, Greg looks back to see very faint lights emerge over the crest of the ridgeline behind. Although the other group hasn’t closed any distance, the team hasn’t gained any either.