Divided We Fall (18 page)

Brad clicked the mic. “Negative, three-zero, it’s not us.”

Brad looked at Chuck; the man turned away then looked back. “It’s
probably the same attackers. They’re back!” Chuck said.

A front window exploded, knocking back the mustached man and
leaving a dark hole seeping blood from his chest. The second guard knelt in
front of the window and fired his shotgun, racking off rounds. Joey moved away
from the wall and grunted, “To hell with this.” He leveled his rifle and shot
the man with the nickel-plated revolver then turned and killed another guard
against the far wall. He walked back to the center of the room, rushing at a
dazed and confused Chuck. Joey stopped and pivoted hard, clubbing the man in
the head with the stock of his rifle, knocking him unconscious. “We ain’t got
time to mess around with this fat bastard. If whoever out there is against him,
then I’m on their side.”

Joey turned away from Chuck and ran to the door; he flung it open
and dropped against the open door frame, firing in the direction of the gate.
Cole looked at Brad for instructions. “Go… backup Villegas,” Brad said.

Brad walked toward the body of Chuck and flipped the man over to
his belly. Ripping a long piece of fabric from the man’s shirt, he bound his
wrists then rolled him to his back. He told Chelsea to watch him then he
grabbed the radio and said, “Three-Zero, we need you.”

He turned and ran to the porch; Chuck’s men were dead at the
bottom of the stairs, more near the gates. Brad saw Scratchy running for a tree
line; a loud gunshot echoed and Scratchy slumped heavily to the ground. Cole and
Joey stood close to one another, walking the drive while kicking dead bodies.
“Where are the shooters?” Brad asked, searching the distant tree lines and
shadows.

“I don’t know, but they ain’t shooting at us,” Joey said.

The gunfire stopped, all of Chuck’s men lay dead on the ground or
bleeding out. Brad joined Joey and Cole in the driveway. He could not see
anything; whoever did the shooting was a pro.

“There,” Joey said, pointing. In the distance, from between the
barns, two men walked toward them with their arms held over their heads.

Chapter 25

The two men walked down from the barns, the sun to their backs causing
Brad to squint into the light. His radio squawked; Brad quickly grabbed it.
“Get up here, the farm is clear,” he said then dropped the hand set. He kept
his eyes on the men. One, carrying a heavy barreled scoped rifle, appeared to
be in his mid to late sixties. A faded, olive green cap with a black Marine
Corps logo stamped on it covered his head, and he wore a dark, tiger-striped
parka. The man next to him was younger and stockier; he wore blue jeans with a
camouflage shirt and had a rifle slung over one shoulder and a club in his
right hand.

“I should have shot you down just for consorting with those
scumbags,” the man said, stepping closer. “But seeing as you captured their
attention for me, I’ll give you a moment to explain yourselves.”

Brad watched as the square-jawed man walked into view; he
immediately picked up the resemblance to Colonel Cloud. “Dan Cloud?” he asked.

The man paused and looked at Brad. “Say again?”

“Are you Dan Cloud? I have a message from your son.”

“James? He’s alive?”

Brad nodded his head and searched his breast pocket for the
envelope. He quickly retrieved it and crossed the open space to hand it to the
old man. He tore the end from the envelope then read the handwritten note. He
turned his back to Brad while he finished then looked back. “Is he safe?”

Brad clenched his jaw. “He was the last time I saw him, sir. He
has things to take care of, then he will be joining us here.”

The man nodded. “I understand.” Dan looked toward the cabin and
stepped off heading to the porch. The younger man moved closer to Brad and
extended his hand. “I’m Joe-Mac. Sorry about him; it’s been a long couple
days,” he said.

“What happened here?” Brad asked.

Joe looked around, and then up at the cabin, taking in the broken
windows and debris on the porch before looking back at the bodies in the yard.
“They came a couple days ago, asking to trade, but obviously looking to steal
from us. We ran them off… chased them into town. Dan thought we had them beat,
that we would never see them up here again, but they came back. They led some
of those infected things up here with ’em.

“We’ve been hiding out up in the hills, waiting for our chance.
Guess when you all came along it was the perfect distraction to start
something,” Joe-Mac said.

“Is there anyone else? The colonel said his wife and daughter
would be here.”

Joe-Mac smiled and nodded. “Yes, sir, Dan had them all relocate up
the mountain to the lake. There are five families with us.”

A man’s scream from inside the cabin took Brad’s attention; he turned
in time to see Dan dragging Chuck through the front door and down the porch
steps by his bad leg. Chelsea was following close behind with wide eyes. Dan
dragged the fat man to the center of the drive then dropped his leg. He reached
down and grabbed him by the back of the shirt.

Joey walked forward and looked down at him. “So… you say you’re a
Marine, huh?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m one of you guys. What the hell, man?” Chuck
whined.

“You don’t look like a Marine,” Joey said.

Dan circled around him then squared his feet. He pulled his knife
and poked at the leg wound, causing Chuck to scream. “Let me introduce myself; I’m
retired Master Gunnery Sergeant Dan Cloud.”

Chuck opened his mouth to speak but Dan held up a hand to silence
him. “I think you lied to those people to get them to follow your sorry ass.”
Dan paused and looked up at Joey next to him. He turned and watched Chelsea
move down the porch steps; she walked to Chuck and stopped just feet from his
head. Dan saw their nametapes. “Now these two individuals here… they are
Marines;
you
are not.”

Chuck whined and went to speak again; Dan turned to Joey and said,
“Corporal, gag the prisoner.”

Joey grinned. “Roger that, Master Guns.”

The young Marine lunged forward and dropped a knee to Chuck’s
chest, pressing him tight to the ground. Chuck squirmed and yelled, protesting
while trying to roll away before Chelsea dropped down to assist. Joey pulled a
roll of dark green tape and quickly wrapped it around Chuck’s head, pulling
back the skin of his abundant cheeks, leaving his mouth agape. Chuck wiggled a
hand loose; it fell to his hip then came back up holding a small buck knife. He
swung it up at Joey, who quickly arched back, the blade cutting the front of
his uniform shirt. Chelsea reached out and caught Chuck’s wrist. She twisted
it, but the man fought her so she twisted it more and plunged it down, watching
the blade sink into the fat man’s chest.

Chelsea quickly released the handle and backed away. Joey stood up
pulling away his uniform blouse, seeing the thin cut through the fabric that
barely missed his skin. Chuck squirmed and twisted, squealing through the gag;
his blood-soaked hand slipped on the blade while trying to remove it from his
chest. Joey stepped ahead, leaned over Chuck, and shouted, “Callate el osico
gordota… You cut my damn shirt!”

Dan looked at the bleeding man with disgust, and then glanced over
at Brad. “You have a medic?”

Brad shook his head. “No, he isn’t with us.”

Dan nodded. “Neither do I.” The old Marine turned away from the
prisoner and walked closer to Brad. “My son… he said you have more friendlies
to bring in. I can’t give you the coordinates to the lake. You need to do it
soon; it’s two days to get there and I want to get moving.”

Brad looked at him. “Sir, you could give me the lake co-ords and
I’ll have the refugees flown directly there.”

Dan shook his head. “Nope, James said to keep the location secret,
so it’s this way or not at all.”

They heard commotion at the gate and saw the rest of the men
walking up the driveway. Turner was double-timing it to get to the front. He
stopped and looked down at the prisoner—no longer moaning and kicking—then up
at Brad. “Everything okay here?” he asked.

“It is now,” Brad said.

He dropped his pack, fished out the satellite phone, and dialed
the number. Instead of reaching a person, he locked onto an automated voice
message system. Brad left a coded message that told Cloud everything was okay
and to send the rest of the people. He disconnected the phone and removed the
battery before storing it in his pack.

“Now what?” Joe-Mac asked.

“Now we wait,” Brad said.

Chapter 26

Hunched into a jump seat at the rear of the aircraft, Sean sat
wearing a mask. He breathed in pure oxygen, which pushed the nitrogen from his
blood. A single red bulb sat just above his head, a weak source of light in the
blackened-out aircraft cabin. Brooks and Cloud were next to him. They wore
black jumpsuits and parachutes like his, heavy gear bags at their feet. This
would be Cloud’s first high-altitude jump on a real mission. The colonel assured
Sean he was qualified, and Sean hoped he was telling the truth because if the colonel
burned into the side of the mountain, the mission would be scrapped and all of
their asses would be in the wind.

Sean’s team was going in ahead of the Ranger elements. They needed
to clear the rear access to the bunkers, a secret approach only used when
traveling to the remote airfields and maintenance roads. Cloud said the doors
were an afterthought in the Mountain’s construction design and only lightly
monitored—possibly not monitored at all as the Mountain’s operational manning
rates dwindled. Desertion was a problem at the military site; with the Mountain
being in such close proximity to a safe area in Colorado Springs, many of the
bunker’s inhabitants had chosen to flee.

The unguarded rear lock required dual authentication to open
before they would be able to enter the maintenance locker. From there, it would
be a short walk to a control room. Cloud would unsecure the magnetic locks on
the blast gate, allowing the Rangers access to the Mountain. The only unknown
was whether or not Cloud’s credentials still work.

When the colonel dropped communications with the general, they
turned off the aircraft’s transponders and killed the comms uplinks. He hoped
the general would believe they were all dead in a crash when they did not check
in and the plane failed to return to base. With things more important
happening, the hope was the general would fail to update a dead man’s security
access.

Sean looked left across the seats where Brooks sat with his head
back, breathing deeply on the mask, his eyes unseen behind the goggles. Cloud
was leaning forward, his legs shaking in anticipation of the jump.

Sean felt his own anxiety building as his eagerness to start the
mission squeezed at his chest and back muscles. Cloud said once the evacuation alarms
sounded, most would flee the complex without question. The staff, being in no
condition to fight anyone, would run or stand down if the opportunity presented
itself. He hoped he was right; Sean didn’t have the stomach for killing the US
servicemen operating the bunker.

A jumpmaster stepped from across the fuselage and stood Sean up;
he moved his hands over his gear, checking his equipment and straps. He spun
Sean around and slapped his backside before moving to Brooks, then Cloud. Sean
began to feel the adrenaline loading his system, and his hands began to twitch
as he took in deep breaths of the 100 percent oxygen.

 They were all on their feet, the rear ramp opened and locked. The
jumpmaster flashed ten fingers and ushered them to the back. He stepped back
against a handhold and pointed at his watch then waved them on. Sean stepped
forward at a casual walk and jumped into the dark night sky, knowing the others
would follow close behind him. He looked down and saw nothing but black; none
of civilization’s lights—just a dark forest and peaks of cold granite.

Sean arched his back, holding his arms and legs out. He held his
breath while guiding his descent, glancing at his watch, and checking the
altitude. From the corner of his eye, he could see Brooks and Cloud in a tight
formation on his right side, IR beacons attached to their ankles glowing softly
in his night vision optics.

“Well, hell… the colonel knows how to jump,” Sean said over the
internal radio.

“But can he land?”
Brooks asked.

“Cut the chatter boys,”
Cloud responded.

Sean checked his GPS and made a slight adjustment to his glide
path. At just above one thousand feet, he reached back and deployed his chute.
He felt and heard the snap of deployment as his body pulled against the harness
in a sudden deceleration. Looking down, he could see the tops of thick Colorado
spruce trees seeming to rush at him through the green vision on his night
vision optics.

He searched for an opening, finding only small spaces between the
treetops; he flared his chute and pulled hard as his boots hit the ground
running. Sean dropped quickly and released his harness, pulling and folding it
in as he gathered the fabric. Quietly, he ran to the base of a large Douglas
fir where he slipped out of the jumpsuit, revealing the dark woodland
camouflage uniform underneath. Sean quickly buried his unneeded gear in a thick
bed of needles.

Kneeling alone and in the dark, Sean expertly guided his hands
over his weapons and equipment. He looked down again at his GPS; even with many
satellites down, he was able to get enough of a signal to navigate. He smiled
at himself; he’d done well and only a couple hundred meters from the rally
point. He scanned his surroundings and, once confident he was alone, stepped
off into the darkness. The trees overhead were thick; the heavy limbs blocked
sunlight from reaching the forest floor, allowing heavy growth of weeds and
brush to accumulate, so it made for easy maneuvering.

Sean walked along the soft needles, pausing often to drop low into
a squat to listen. Occasionally, he heard the breaking of a branch or the hoot
of an owl. Cloud told them that Primals were known to be in the area, but there
were other predators as well—packs of wolves, bears, mountain lions, and of
course, the occasional man in black. He heard the loud snap of a branch and the
crackle of dry leaves to his front. Sean held his breath and focused his eyes,
locking in on the movement. He could tell by the man’s posture that it was the colonel.
Sean made a slight hiss with his teeth and watched Cloud freeze.

He moved up behind him and whispered, “It’s me—Chief.”

Cloud turned back and tossing up an exaggerated wave, pointed at
the GPS on his wrist then pointed a finger skyward to indicate going up the
side of the Mountain.

“Am I late?” he heard Brooks whisper from behind.

Sean turned back, spotting the other SEAL as he moved alongside
Sean and knelt down to wait.

“Everyone good to go?” Sean asked.

The men nodded and Cloud stepped off, leading the way.

They climbed out of the brush and onto a limestone path a half
hour later. Moving slowly along a half-poured concrete wall, Cloud crept along
then stopped at one end before turning back to face the others.

“There are closed-circuit cameras on the other entrances, but not
here. The original plans show this maintenance locker being sealed once
construction was completed. Thanks to budget cuts, the bunker was never
finished, so this locker remains open to access cable runs and electronic
spaces from the service roads,” Cloud whispered.

“You sure it’s empty on the other side?” Brooks asked.

Cloud nodded, dug through a pouch on the chest of his gear, and
removed a small key card then flipped up his NODS. “I’ll go ahead to the lock.
It uses an RFID chip; once I wave my badge, I’ll have to enter my code and
submit a retina scan. There is only room for one of us in the locker, but once
you hear the door pop, we need to be inside quickly; if the door stays open
more than thirty seconds, an alarm will sound.”

“Let’s do it,” Sean said.

Cloud moved ahead; Sean watched as he followed the half-wall to a
nearly invisible, narrow passage where thick conduit ran along the base. Sean
heard Cloud’s boots scrape on the dry earth, then an audible click.

“Come on,” Cloud said from the dark.

Sean and Brooks left the cover and scrambled forward. They moved
into the narrow passageway, finding Cloud at the end with his hand on a lever,
holding open a heavy pneumatic door. He waved the SEALs past him and into
another dark space ahead. Clearing the door, Sean led the way in, his feet
sliding on the smooth concrete floor. He heard the door ease shut behind him
with a hissing noise as gasses escaped the pistons. The door clunked and made a
scratching noise when it sealed shut.

The room was beyond dark. With no ambient light to feed his
goggles, Sean reached up and activated his infrared headlight, the illuminator
filling the small space with invisible light. Brooks quickly moved across the
space to the only visible door and dropped into a crouch. His teammate had both
hands on his suppressed MP5 and was looking down the barrel. They were in a
small concrete-encased room, maybe eight feet wide and ten feet long. The room
was void of objects except for a keypad near the now sealed door. A think
bundle of cable ran along the ceiling, passing by large fluorescent lights that
hung above.

Cloud followed Sean’s stare up at the dead lights. “All
non-essentials have been powered off. Most of the complex is dark,” he said.

“Sounds dreamy; you mind giving us the VIP tour,” Sean said.

Cloud nodded and Brooks shuffled ahead to the only other door;
pulling down on a latch, the door opened out on well-oiled hinges. Brooks moved
through the opening, with Sean trailing close behind, his boots nearly sliding
on the dry concrete floor. The concrete dust felt loose and gritty under his
feet, as if it were, instead, a layer of talcum powder. Sean came out into the
empty corridor, soft bits of light glowing in his goggles; he powered them down
and lifted the eyepiece away.

He was standing along the wall of a long tunnel hundreds of feet
long. More spaced-out fluorescent lighting blocks hung from the ceiling, every
fifth one powered on, providing just enough light to see the floor. The hallway
appeared completely deserted. Sean stepped forward, his boots scratching on the
dry concrete. He moved into the thickest shadows and dropped to a knee, keeping
his weapon ready and waiting for Cloud to move up behind him. Brooks crossed
the hallway and found a spot a few meters back, covering their rear.

Cloud stepped to the front and walked ahead, crouched over,
keeping his left shoulder close to the tunnel wall. After moving nearly a
hundred yards and passing several closed doors, he stopped again, dropped to
his knee, and waved Sean toward him. Cloud’s hand pointed to a door on the far
side of the passageway; the door, unlike the others, showed a small sliver of
light escaping from its frame.

Without being instructed, Brooks silently moved ahead and posted
outside the door; Sean fell in just behind him. The door shared a similar metal
latch, but unlike the locker door, there was a small keypad above the latch. Cloud
again removed his keycard and readied it by the door. Cloud ran his badge over
the door, the keypad lit in green backlighting. He entered the code and the
door clicked. Brooks moved ahead, nudging Cloud out of the way; he tilted the
handle and swung into the brightly lit room, leading with his suppressor.

Sean pushed in behind him. The room was the size of an average one-car
garage and stank of ozone air and body odor. A bank of black and white monitors
was mounted on the left wall. Just below them, was a long console filled with
computers and empty chairs. Brooks pivoted to the right and took his firing
hand from his weapon to point at the far corner of the room. Sean followed his
aim; at the end of another set of workspaces, a black chair tilted back with an
arm coming out from the side and resting on the desk.

Brooks moved toward the chair on the toes of his feet. He hovered
over the chair and smiled. Looking at Sean, he put a finger to his lips and
waved Cloud into the room. Cloud proceeded in and let the door quietly shut
behind him. Brooks reached down and violently spun the chair away from the
console, the chair’s sleeping occupant screeched and tried to stand. Before he
could, Sean was already hovering over him, his barrel pressing into the man’s
chest.

The young, clean-shaven, and uniformed man’s eyes searched the
room in a panic then locked on Cloud.

“Colonel,” he said. “You were reported as dead!”

“Yeah, well, I’m not. Where is the rest of the crew?” Cloud asked,
moving to the bank of monitors, watching as camera views changed.

“Sir, there are only three of us on this watch now. I’m alone for
another…” The man paused to look at a clock on the wall. He went to speak then
paused and looked away. “Wait… who are these men?”

Sean brought the tip of his suppressor up and pressed it against
the man’s forehead. “We are asking the questions here,” Sean said.

The man’s hands rose from his sides. “Sir, I’ll do whatever you
want… just, please, when you leave, take me with you,” he pleaded.

The sincerity of the man’s tone caused Sean to back off, removing
the barrel from his forehead. “That ain’t very loyal to your cause, now is it?”
Sean said.

The man looked up at Sean with wide eyes. “What cause? This place…
there is nothing left here.” He looked back to Cloud. “Sir, after you were reported
dead, everyone started leaving, slipping out at night; some of the perimeter
patrols just drove off. What security that is left is guarding the housing
decks.”

“Guarding from who?” Sean asked.