Apache Dawn: Book I of the Wildfire Saga (50 page)

The bus raced across the base and lurched to a shaky stop in front of a large, block-like hangar building.
 
Cooper noticed the six-level parking garage was caved-in but was glad to see Jax sitting with the Air Force security guard on a substantial pile of rubble.
 
He grinned to see the two men sharing an MRE, despite the fact that bodies littered the ground all around them.
 
Jax had his respirator on and looked rather gruesome in the dim light.
 
Jax was suspicious by nature, however, so if he was at ease, Cooper was at ease.
 
They jumped up and waved him over to the side of the building in the reflected light from a nearby burning structure.

“What took you so long?” asked Jax, leaning in the doorway of the bus.

“Took the scenic route.
 
That him?” Cooper asked.
 
He shined a flashlight on the airman’s face.

“Yep.
 
Sergeant Lopez.
 
He’s five-by-five, boss.”

“I hope so,” Cooper said, watching the airman put a radio to his ear.
 
His tanned face suddenly went pale.
 

“Hey, hurry it up!
 
I got word radar picked up a group of targets heading in from the northeast.
 
Could be ground transports as well!”

“Shit
,” muttered Cooper.
 
He stood up and addressed the people in the rear of the bus.
 
“Everyone listen up!
 
It’s a good bet the Koreans know we’re here,” he said with a glance at the nurse who had called her husband.
 
She buried her face in her hands again.
 
“We only have a few minutes to get the President off this bus and down their emergency bunker.
 
Let’s be careful, but move
fast
.
 
Got it?”

“We understand,” said Dr. Honeycutt, adjusting his glasses.

“We’ll carry the litter,” said Agent Sheffield.
 
“You get the gear.
 
Thompson, Sanders, Bailey, on me.”

The beehive sufficiently stirred, Cooper grabbed his rifle and exited the bus into the warm, late afternoon sun.
 
The garage structure was a mess.
 
Great slabs of reinforced concrete had crushed a dozens of cars that had been parked inside.
 
The smell of gas and oil stung his nose.
 
Smoke was pouring out of the other half of the building, obscuring the view to the northeast.

“You guys really built an underground bunker here—in Los Angeles?
 
Over the San Andreas Fault and all that?” asked Swede cynically.

The airman looked the big SEAL up and down.
 
“We went to the moon—what, sixty years ago?
 
This place—Space Command—tracks over 200,000 objects in orbit above the Earth, every second of every day—some as small as your fingernail.
 
And you find it hard to believe we couldn’t build a box underground and protect it from an earthquake?”

“Well…” said Swede, looking at the ground.
 
“When you put it
that
way…”

“Come on, the entrance is over here behind that pile,” the security guard said.
 
“We gotta move, man!”

“Hold your horses, Lopez,” said Cooper calmly.
 
“We don’t go anywhere till the President is off-loaded.”

“It’s true?” asked Lopez, eyes wide.
 
“I heard rumors and we all heard the radio but…” he shook his head.
 
“Damn, that’s wild.
 
Never met a President before.”

It took longer than Cooper wanted, but at last all the doctors, nurses, agents and SEALs were off the bus, along with the President in his litter, and all the medical equipment needed to keep him alive.
 
Cooper glanced toward the east again, sure the North Koreans would appear at any second, guns blazing.
 

“Let’s move—follow the sergeant there,” he said, pointing at Lopez.
 
“There’s an entrance to the bunker over there.
 
Jax, Swede, you take point.”

Cooper stood back and watched as Lopez, Jax, Swede, and the agents and doctors carefully but quickly maneuvered around the rubble and disappeared down the exposed stairway through the bunker entrance.
 

“Beaver, Sparky, stay with Slipknot.”

“Hooyah,” said the shortest SEAL as he strolled past.

A sense of uneasiness continued to grow and intensify down Cooper’s spine even though they were finally secure behind the massive, closed blast doors underground.
 
Arrayed before them in an enormous entryway were a dozen or so Air Force security guards, all with weapons, all standing in awe at the sight of the President being carried by Secret Service agents.
 
He could hear the mumbled talk and see the excited gestures.
 
Someone whispered “President” loud enough for him to hear.
 
He frowned.
 
Like it or not, their cover was officially blown to shit.

Two of the guards were huddled over a radio, keeping wary eyes on the newcomers. Cooper tensed when they whispered into the device, then quickly made their way down a corridor.
 
“Where are they going?” he asked Lopez.

“Lopez, what the hell were you thinking, bringing these guys down here?
 
Jesus, they’re probably all infected—” barked another man.
 
He raised his M-4 up and pointed it at Charlie.
 

“Hey, I’m just following orders, man!” protested Lopez.

“Not the Colonel’s orders!”
 
The man with the rifle jabbed it at Charlie’s chest.
 
“Who are you?
 
And what the hell—”

“Lopez, tell your friend there to lower his weapon before I shove it up his ass,” said Cooper, his voice controlled and calm.
 

The man turned his attention to Cooper, and moved the rifle barrel slightly away Charlie’s chest.
 
It was all the distraction Charlie needed.
 
In a blur of movement, his hands shot out, one deflecting the muzzle of the M-4 off to his left so it pointed between him and Cooper, while the other snapped-out and delivered a sharp chop to the nervous guard’s throat.
 

The airman guard fell to the floor on his back, gasping and grabbing at his neck.
 
Charlie slung the captured rifle over his left shoulder and stepped back, smiling.

“Jesus!” said Lopez.
 
“You didn’t have to do that!”
 
He knelt by his stricken comrade, who roughly shoved him away.

“Anyone who puts a gun in my face either gets that,” said Charlie, “or doesn’t live to talk about it.”
 
He drew his sidearm in one smooth motion.
 
“Want me to give him option two?”

The man on the floor, eyes bulging, shook his head and waved for Charlie to put the gun away.
 
He gasped and choked, trying to talk, but the color was draining from his face.
 
Sgt. Lopez helped him to sit up.
 

Finally he took a deep breath and growled, “You assholes are in
deep
shit now, bunch of traitors!”

Charlie looked at Cooper, a bemused smile on his face.
 
“You know, that rifle was still on safe.
 
Want me to hold him while you shove it up his ass?”

The sputtering man on the ground turned red.
 
“When the Colonel finds out you’re here, he’s going to hang you all.”

“The hell’s he talking about?” asked Swede.

“It was on all the civvie bands—Washington found out we have the President and the new guy in the oval office doesn’t want him alive.
 
So we’re all traitors now.”

“Oh,” said the big SEAL with a frown on his broad face.
 
“Awesome.”

“Who’s this ‘Colonel’?” asked Charlie.

Lopez shook his head.
 
“He’s the base XO.
 
General Nadina is in charge, but he was wounded during the attack.
 
Colonel Molton is acting CO now.”
 
He leaned in between Charlie and Cooper and whispered, “He’s a real bootlicker.
 
Got a hard-on for promotion.
 
He thinks if he toes the line from Washington in all this and manages to keep Space Command in operation, he’ll get his star.”

“And you didn’t think he would have an issue with us joining your little underground party?” asked Cooper in a dangerous tone.

“Aw, shit,” muttered Charlie, making a sour face at the man on the floor.

“I didn’t really believe all that traitor bullshit they were talking about on the radio.
 
I thought it had to be misinformation—you know, to throw the Koreans off your trail or something?
 
Look guys,” he said, hands spread wide.
 
“All I wanted to do was help protect the President.”

The man on the ground staggered to his feet, glaring at Lopez.
 
“So you’re a traitor, too, huh, Lopez?”
 
He spat on the ground.
 
“Shoulda shipped your ass back across the border where you belong.” He turned and pulled a knife from his belt and made for the President’s litter.
   

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” asked Lopez.
 
He tried to step in front of the big airman and got shoved roughly aside.

“There’s a reward—”

Cooper and two of his men had weapons up and beads on the airman before he could blink.
 
He paused, holding the knife like a dagger with the point down, and looked at the men aiming weapons at him.
 
“You don’t have the balls.”

A thunderclap erupted in the windowless room.
 
All the Air Force guards ducked and covered their ears.
 
Cooper glanced over his shoulder as Agent Sheffield lowered his sidearm and looked down at the man on the floor who was writhing silently in a spreading pool of dark blood.

 
“Not on
my
watch, son,” said the Special Agent in Charge of the Presidential Detail.
 
He stared at the man on the floor with eyes completely lacking compassion.

“Shit!” yelled Lopez, one hand on his ear.
 

Sheffield got a respectful nod from Cooper who then turned to the rest of the group and said:
 
“Gentlemen, this shit is real.
 
These guys apparently want our blood.”

A door down the corridor opened and a woman in Air Force-gray BDUs opened the door and stepped out.
 
She took in the scene before her: the doctors, the President, the agents, the SEALs and a bleeding man dying on the floor.
 
Without a word, she stepped back through the door and slammed it shut.
 

“We’re in it now,” moaned Lopez.
 
“Why did they have to tell me to go up topside…”

“We gotta get outta here, man,” said Jax, leaning over to Cooper’s ear.
 
“While there’s still time.”

“
Alert One:
The Koreans have returned—all personnel, general quarters.
 
Get to your pre-assigned defensive positions.
 
Repeat, all personnel get to your pre-assigned defensive positions!
” blared over hidden loudspeakers.

The big Texan sighed.
 
“Or not.”

Cooper stepped forward to address the rest of the guards.
 
“Anyone here want to help President Denton?”
 
That seemed to snap them out of their apparent momentary paralysis.
 

He got a few immediate shouts of “Hell yes!” and mostly nods.
 
It was good enough.

“Then someone get us to a secure location where we can let the doctors keep him alive.
 
Anyone know of a place where your Colonel will be hard-pressed to overtake us?”

“Confess!” yelled the President. He thrashed against the cords and tubes sticking out of his arms and chest.
 
A coughing fit ensued.
 
He blinked and gasped for air, making a wheezing, sucking sound.
 
He reached out a skeletal hand toward Cooper.
 
“The nation…I need…talk to them…” Doctor Honeycutt placed a breathing mask over his face and silenced his delirious thrashing.

Cooper looked at Lopez as he led everyone down the right-hand corridor.
 
“Is there any way,” he said gesturing toward the ailing President, “he can get some air-time?”

One of the other airmen spoke-up from behind Cooper.
 
“Uh, yessir.
 
The old communications room.”
 
He caught up to Lopez.
 
“It’s on Three-C.
 
Probably hasn’t been used since Reagan was here…”

“I know where it’s at, man,” said Lopez.
 
He pulled Cooper aside as the rest of the group continued forward.
 
In a lower voice, he said, “Look—that old comms room up there, maybe can get you some bandwidth—but there’s only one way in or out of that room.
 
You go in, you’ll be trapped and the Colonel will—”