Apache Dawn: Book I of the Wildfire Saga (82 page)

Cooper looked at the burning wreckage of the German outpost.
 
“We’re here to find someone.
 
Someone very important to the future of this nation.”
 
He fished around in a side pocket and pulled out a laminated photo.
 
Holding it up in the firelight, he asked, “Have any of you seen this man?
 
His name is Dr. Maurice Boatner.
 
He’s a molecular-biologist and a professor at Harvard…?”

The leader laughed bitterly.
 
“Look, bro, this is Boston.
 
There’s a lot a people here, right?
 
Never seen him before.
 
Sorry.”

Cooper nodded and put the photo away.
 
“Well, it was worth a shot.”

“We need to get the hell outta here before the Krauts show up−” said Doubting Thomas.

“And they will!” chipped in one of his men.

“You guys wanna come with us?
 
We get back to camp, we got hot chow…and you can check-in with the Colonel.”

Cooper put his hands on his hips and looked around.
 
“Who are you guys anyway?
 
National Guard?”

“Nah, they’re still trying to figure out if they’re gonna work with the Krauts or us for some reason…”
 
He shook his head.
 
“Names Dillon Prebble.
 
This here’s my brother Jimmy.
 
That’s Donny, and the ugly one over there is Kaden.”

“Up yours, Prebble,” muttered Kaden in a deep voice.

An odd, European-sounding siren wailed in the distance.
 
All of the men jerked rifles up and looked for new threats.
 
Sparky padded up softly and stopped next to Cooper.

“
More vehicles coming in from the north.
 
I saw the headlights from the bridge.
 
We need to make tracks, LT
,” the speakers on his helmet spoke.

“You comin’ with us?
 
‘Cause, the Colonel’s gonna shit himself when he meets ya,” said Prebble in his thick accent.
 
He turned to leave.
 

“May as well,” said Cooper with a shrug.
 

“Okay boys, back to base.
 
Let’s go” announced Prebble as he shouldered his weapon.

“Charlie, you take the north flank,” said Cooper.

“Roger
.”
 
Charlie removed his helmet with a hiss of escaping air.
 
“So Prebble—if you’re not with the Guard, who are you with?
 
What’s SOL?” Charlie said, pointing at the white letters crudely sewn on the sleeve of the man identified as Kaden.

Dillon Prebble slung his rifle over his shoulder and smiled.
 
“We’re the Sons of Liberty.
 
We don’t wanna be here when the Krauts find this mess.
 
We don’t do the stand-up-and-fight routine.
 
We hit, run, and hide.
 
Minuteman style.
 
Now come on and make sure you stick to the trees.
 
You can hide your heat signature better by staying near the brush.”
 
He pointed up. “Damn Kraut drones are everywhere.”

“Hooyah,” said Cooper as he jogged off into the night with his newfound allies.

C
HAPTER
33

C
HAD
WOKE
TO
THE
sound of someone vomiting.
 
He hated to throw up, always had.
 
Whoever
was yakking was doing a real good job.
 
Great gulping heaves, and from the sounds of it, a lot of splatter.
 

Man, some poor bastard is having a rough—

Chad’s thought was interrupted by a painful heave that emptied the nonexistent contents of his stomach.
 
The throbbing in his head was nearly unbearable.
 
His senses, one by one, returned to his control and assaulted his abused consciousness.
 

He felt cold steel all around him.
 
He was in some enclosed space.
 
The helicopter—the memory trickled back into his tortured mind.
 
It took a while for him to fully remember what had happened when last he opened his eyes.

Another dry heave left him panting for air.
 
Then the rush of memories hit.

The pilot!
 
That bitch!
 
She hit me…
He opened his eyes slowly, enduring the lightning bolts of pain tunneling into his brain as soon as light broke past his eyelids.
 
Ugh.
 
I’m still in the cockpit of that damn helicopter.
 
And there’s puke everywhere…

“You done yet?” asked a malicious voice that echoed through his mind.

“Wha…what?” Chad stammered.
 
The world began to spin.
 
What the hell is she talking about?
 
What’s happening to me?
 

“Settle down.
 
We’re on the ground already.
 
Just waiting for the Russians to walk over here.”

A loud clacking sound shook his eardrums.
 
Then he felt a cool breeze on his neck.
 
He squinted up.
 
The cockpit canopy, accompanied by the whine of hydraulics, lifted sideways out of his field of vision.

Chad gingerly rubbed the back of his neck.
 
“Owww…” he muttered.
 
God it hurts!

“Sorry about that…” the pilot said.
 
“Finally
.
 
Here they come.”

In a blur of pain, Chad heard several sets of footsteps approach the helicopter.
 
Then there were strong hands gripping his shoulders and he felt the dizzyingly queasy sensation of being pulled out of the helicopter.
 
It felt like they were spinning him around like a top before dumping him unceremoniously on the hard ground.
 
Every bone in his body felt broken.
 
He fell back against the ground with a teeth-rattling impact.
 
Chad kept his eyes closed tight—even
breathing
was painful.

Am I dying?

“This is the Source?” asked a gruff male voice.

“Y-yes,” replied the pilot.
 
The sudden nervousness in her voice did nothing for Chad’s nerves.

There was some chattering in a language that Chad couldn’t understand, but it sure sounded excited.
 
He tried to say something but only a low moan escaped his lips.

“We will test.”
 
The hands grabbed him again.
 
Chad whimpered.
 
He was beyond crying out.
 
He just wanted it all to end.
 

They’re carrying me off…to a lab…the needles…God no…please…

“Okay, so if you, like, you know, don’t have the money here, I have an account number I can -”

More guttural Russian-speak.
 
Chad tried to tell the pilot to leave and save herself but he couldn’t get his mouth to work.
 
Something was wedged in-between his jaws.
 
The cable-tie around his wrist was still loose, so, that was something.
 

This is not good…

“
Da, da
.
 
Gregor!
 
Pay
her,” said the male voice with a cruel chuckle.

“Wait, no, hey
look
, I got a family—” the pilot started to say.

A single gunshot cut her off, mid-sentence.
 
The sound of her body hitting the ground almost made Chad want to throw up again.
 
He inhaled deep several times through his nose in an attempt to conquer his storm-tossed stomach.

“Would you like
receipt
?” asked a second voice in a thick accent.
 
Laughter exploded around him.

As he was dragged away, he heard excited babble coming from behind him and getting louder.
 
There were several Russians talking with each other.
 
He couldn’t understand any words but heard the names Yuri, Gregor, and something that ended in
‘vich
.
 
Then he heard someone
ssssssh
the group.

A radio was adjusted.
 
The static broke up a few times and then settled into a somber voice: “—
the President of the United States.
”

After a brief pause, he heard a new voice, tinny sounding over the radio:

“
Good evening, my fellow Americans.
 
My name is Orren Harris, and until a few days ago, I was the Speaker of the House of Representatives
.”
 

One of the Russians laughed softly.
 
Someone said something in their guttural language, followed by more laughs.
 
Chad tried to focus on the radio.
 

“
I should say, a few weeks ago, I was the Speaker.
 
Since that fateful day when all of our lives were turned upside down, I have been nothing more than a citizen, like you, wondering what was happening, why, and how we as a nation would survive
.”
 
He cleared his throat politely.
 

“
My fellow Americans, I have the unenviable task, set before me by the legitimately elected President, Chesterfield Carter Denton, of assuming the mantle of leadership and steering this stricken country back to its former glory
.”

One of the Russians said something and was quickly silenced by the others.
 
Chad turned his head to try and hear better.

“
It is with a heavy heart that I relay the news that President Denton has left this earth to watch over this land that he loved from a better place.
 
I ask all Americans to not only pray for his salvation, but for the salvation of this great land, indeed for the very survival of ourselves and our loved ones and
−”

The radio snapped off.
 
A new, louder voice dominated Chad’s sightless world.
 
He barked out Russian gibberish and by the way feet were scattering in all directions, Chad assumed this new speaker was the man in charge.

Someone gripped Chad’s face in their hand and pinched painfully in order to turn his head left, then right.
 
They’re examining me like a horse.
 
Someone laughed.
 
More Russian talking.
 
In the distance, he heard the tell-tale whine of heavy machinery coming to life.
 
The hand left his face with a grunt of approval.

Chad was hauled up to his unsteady feet and carried off to his destiny.

God, help me…

C
OOPER
TOOK
A
LONG
pull from his cup and nodded his thanks to the young man that held the water jug.
 
He and Charlie stood with the local Sons of Liberty leadership, staring down at the map of Occupied Boston.
 
They were in the local headquarters—an abandoned Brownstone on the edge of Cambridge.

They had been discussing the strategy the Sons were using to harass and disrupt the German supply line.
 
Cooper was impressed by the Colonel’s boldness so far.
 
The Sons of Liberty had been such a thorn in Jerry’s side that they had been forced to erect forward operating bases—like the one taken out in JFK Park—all around the city.
 
It was spreading the German presence thin.

“So, you can see,” said the Colonel, pointing at the map.
 
“We’ve got positions here, here, and here.”

“It’s not enough, sir,” said Cooper.
 
He hated to say it, but there it was.
 
“On our way in we observed transport ships out in the Bay—and they were using Logan to fly materiel and most likely troops in from Europe.”

The older man grunted.
 
“Don’t I know it.
 
I’ll give ‘em one thing, they’re wicked efficient.
 
As soon as we take out an outpost or steal a load of supplies, they replace them with two more somewhere else.”

“How are you set for manpower?” said Charlie, looking around the room.
 
“I didn’t see all that many shooters.”

The Colonel grinned.
 
“Most of my men are out on patrol—it’s night time, and that’s
our
time—and Jerry knows it.
 
We’re getting new recruits every day.
 
It’s just a trickle now, but the more they tighten their grip on the city, the more our ranks swell.
 
Mark my words, Master Chief, we’re gonna take back this town, with help from outside or not.”

“I believe you will, sir.
 
But my priority is bigger than Boston.”