Apocalypse Dawn (20 page)

Goose fired a series of three-round bursts. Bullets chopped into the Jeep’s grill, then across the hood, and smashed into the driver just above the steering wheel. The dead man’s foot slipped from the accelerator and clutch. A moment later, the jeep stuttered to a halt.

Head spinning, lungs aching, Goose swayed. For a moment, he thought he was going to fall. Abruptly, the iron bars constricting his lungs dropped away. He took a deep, shuddering breath, then coughed and almost threw up. Flames coursed across his chest. No blood showed on his chest. Intact. He’d been pounded, but the bullets hadn’t penetrated. He said a silent prayer of thanks.

Keeping his assault rifle up at the ready, slightly canted down so he could sweep the weapon up, Goose advanced. He sucked in another breath, feeling as though his chest were busted up inside but not feeling any grating of bone that would have indicated shattered or splintered ribs that could pierce his internal organs and compromise his breathing. His lungs appeared to be intact.

“Two,” Goose called as he closed on the stalled Jeep. Neither of the Syrian soldiers moved. “Two, do you copy?”

One of the RSOVs raced up the hillside. Evidently Hardin and the two men with him had managed to get the combat vehicle and were rolling to check on the downed helicopter.

“Two copies, Leader,” Bill replied. The weakness in his voice offered proof that not all was well with him.

“What’s your status, Two?” Goose grabbed the driver by the shirtfront and dragged the man from the jeep’s seat. The corpse dropped to the sand. “Confirmed kill.”

“I’m hurt,” Bill replied. “But I’m still standing.”

Goose pulled the man from the passenger seat and dumped his body to the ground. “Confirmed kill. How bad is it, Two?”

“Patchwork, Leader. Leg shot. Bullet went through and through.”

“Do you need assistance?” As Goose walked back toward the hillside, he checked on the three-man crew from the second Jeep. The HE round had blown them in a semicircle from the point of impact.

“I need a medkit,” Bill replied. “Having a tough time getting the bleeding stopped.”

“I’m on it, Leader,” Cusack offered. “I’ve got a medkit.”

‘Take care of it, Six,” Goose acknowledged.

“Leader, this is Base.” Captain Remington’s voice.

“Clear my channel, Base,” Goose ordered. “I’m in the middle of a busted op and you can’t help me.”

Remington took no offense. “Affirmative, Leader. I’ll be standing by.”

“Understood, sir.” Goose approached Hardesty, who still lay on the ground. “Get up.”

Hardesty got up uncertainly. He stared at the dead cameraman. The man was so young to be so dead that the fact was offensive to Goose.

“Four,” Goose said, reminding himself that other young men were selflessly giving their lives along the border even then. The artillery fire continued without cease. “What’s the sit-rep at your twenty?”

“Leapfrog is officially scratched, Leader,” Hardin replied. “I’ve got five survivors from a sixteen-man crew aboard the 60.”

“Four survivors,” Evaristo said in open disgust.

“One of the survivors is a chaplain,” Hardin said. “All of these guys are banged up, Leader. Gonna be more of a detriment to the cause than any kind of help.”

Artillery fire rolled to the south, crossing over Goose in a wave of echoes.

“Get them squared away,” Goose ordered. “We’re leaving in two minutes.”

United States of America

Fort Benning, Georgia

Local Time 1:10 A.M.

Heart thudding, Megan ran out into the base hospital parking lot. Only a dozen or so cars occupied the striped slots. She stopped in the center of the lot and spun around, looking for Gerry Fletcher.

Fort Benning kept security lights on all through the night where they were needed, so the area around the hospital was relatively lighted. Lamps illuminated high-traffic areas, but the residential areas remained dark except for lights along footpaths between the buildings. The military base was a safe area, a place where married couples and families with children could live in peace.

But tonight those safe places harbored shadows where a scared eleven-year-old boy could easily hide.

“Megan.”

Turning, Megan spotted Helen Cordell standing in the open emergency door. The bleats of the alarm blasted out into the parking lot.

“Have you found Gerry?” Helen asked.

“No.” Megan tried to push away the frustration she felt. “I didn’t know he was running till he was already gone.”

“Neither did 1.” Helen gazed around the parking lot. “He can’t have gone far.”

“I know. I just don’t know where he could have gone.”

“Do you know his mother’s number?”

“Yes.” In that moment, Megan felt foolish. It was her job to keep it together, to know and to be ready to act one step ahead of anything the kids in her care could come up with. Gerry had been terrified of his dad. That much was evident. But she was good at her job. Maybe she wasn’t thinking at her best tonight, but she was prepared. “I’ve got Tonya’s phone number in my cell phone memory.”

“Check there,” Helen suggested. “As scared as that kid is, the first place he’d probably go is home.”

Especially if he knows his father isn’t there, Megan silently added. “What about Boyd Fletcher?” It was important when she talked to Gerry that she be able to honestly tell him what had become of his father. Telling Gerry what was going to happen to him next, that he would probably be removed from his home and placed in foster care, was going to be hard. Megan had been forced to do that before, and those situations had never gone well.

“He’s going to the hoosegow for the night,” Helen said. “Resisting arrest is going to guarantee that. Then I’ll be adding new charges in the morning.”

Megan took her cell phone from her pocket. “I’m going to keep looking out here. And I’ll call Tonya.”

Helen nodded. “I’ve got to shut this alarm off and call it in to base security as a false alarm before I have a platoon of young men waiting to be the next Bruce Willis arrive here. I’ll pass the word along to the MPs. They can help look for Gerry.”

“Thanks, Helen.” Megan was grateful for the assistance and the positive attitude that the other woman brought to the situation. With Helen around, nothing seemed impossible.

Helen closed the door and took away the yellow rectangle of light that spilled out onto the parking lot from the hospital’s emergency exit. Under the mercury vapor lights that illuminated the parking lot, the landscape and the cars appeared in grays and blacks, as lifeless and alien as the moon.

Megan pressed the cell phone’s keypad. The screen flashed on, ghastly green-gray. She’d missed three calls. While she’d been talking to Gerry, she’d muted the ringer out of habit. She mentally harangued herself. She was out of the house, Goose was in danger, Joey was God-only-knew-where, and Chris was in child care. What had she been thinking?

But she knew what she’d been thinking about: Gerry Fletcher sitting in the hospital emergency room. That was one of the aspects about her life that got really confusing: how could she be a mom and a wife and a counselor and expect to do a good job at any of those?

During one of the infrequent sessions with Bill when he’d been visiting, she’d talked about trying to balance her life. Bill, relying on his faith, of course, had said that all works God intended for a person to perform would be given balance. The key was to trust in His guidance in all things at all times. That was hard to do because she cared so much about her man, her sons, and the kids entrusted to her care.

With a little guilt, she realized that she hadn’t even considered the time needed to be spent being a good Christian.

She stared at the cell phone screen where Joey’s number stood out in sharp relief. So what was it to be: mother or counselor?

Joey, she decided, and felt a twinge of guilt. With so many things out of her control, she needed to know that her son was all right. She would be able to focus more on Gerry when she found him.

The phone rang once before Joey answered. “Mom?”

“Joey, are you all right?” Megan walked toward the far end of the parking lot. Three young men sat in a dark blue muscle car she felt certain Goose would have identified in an instant.

“I’m fine, Mom.”

Thank You, God.

“Mom,” Joey said, “I’m sorry I missed curfew.”

Remembering how Gerry was afraid of his father, knowing that she had never had-would never have-a relationship like that with either of her sons, Megan kept calm, reminding herself how thankful she was that Joey was okay.

“We’ll talk about that later,” Megan said. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”

“I know.”

Megan heard traffic over the phone connection. “Where are you?”

“Just a few minutes from the base,” Joey said. “I’m on my way to pick up Chris.”

“Thank you, Joey. I appreciate that a lot.”

He was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for him.”

“You can be there for him now,” she said. “That’s the important thing. I don’t know when I’m going to be home, and I really didn’t want him waking up in a child-care facility.”

“I got it covered, Mom.” Some of the hesitation and guilt faded from Joey’s voice.

Megan knew that was because he was in his element as oldest child. He had a task and a responsibility. “Thank you, Joey.” She stared at the muscle car where the three young men talked. From their haircuts, she deduced that they were soldiers.

“Have you heard anything about Goose?” Joey asked.

Megan had to halt herself from automatically correcting her son and telling him to refer to Goose as his dad. For a while, before Chris had been born, Joey had started calling Goose “Dad,” but that had gone away within weeks after Chris’s birth.

“I haven’t heard anything,” Megan replied.

Joey was silent for a moment.

“Honey,” Megan said, “I’ve really got to go. This is an emergency situation. I’ll tell you about it in the morning. After tonight is over, I think I’d like to talk to someone about this.”

“All right, Mom,” Joey said. “You know I’m there for you.”

Both of them, Megan was certain, felt uncomfortable with that customary response after the missed curfew tonight. “I love you, Joey.’

“I know, Mom.” He hesitated just long enough for her to know that he wasn’t alone. “I love you, too. I’ll see you whenever you get home. If I’m not there by the time you need to get to school-“

“I’ll get The Squirt off and get myself to school,” Joey said. “Promise.”

“You still have lunch money?”

“Yes, Mom.” The exasperated tone in his voice told her that she’d just stepped into one of those child/adult potholes that made the journey through the teen years so rocky for the parents and children.

Megan curbed her own response. Pointing out that Joey hadn’t been adult enough to hit his curfew would have done no good and only destroyed the good rapport they’d had up till that moment. Until they could both be adults in the relationship, she had to be the one.

“I’ll try to be home as soon as I can,” she said. “I’ll call in the morning if I can’t be there. So Chris can talk to me.”

“Okay, Mom.”

Megan said good-bye and broke the connection. She halted in the parking lot and flipped through her phone book index, stopping on Boyd and Tonya Fletcher’s phone number. She punched the Talk button.

Six rings later, the phone was answered. The clanks and clunks that carried over the connection told Megan that the person who answered the phone was having a hard time.

“Hello,” Tonya croaked in a sleep-filled voice.

“Tonya,” Megan said, “this is Megan Gander.” She paused to let the young woman take the information in. Even at her best, Tonya seemed a step behind the rest of the world. She had her hopes and dreams, but she didn’t quite seem in touch with all the realities of her life.

“Come on, Mrs. Gander,” Tonya protested. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Yes,” Megan assured her. “There’s been a problem, Tonya.”

“What kind of problem?” Worry and anxiety filled Tonya’s voice.

Megan heard the creak of the bed. She knew the younger woman was probably sitting up and only then learning that her husband wasn’t there. The time was early for some of the bars and the afterhours clubs that remained open illegally.

“Can you tell me if Gerry is there?” Megan asked.

“He’s in his bedroom,” Tonya said.

“Are you sure?”

“I put him to bed, Mrs. Gander. I should know where my own kid is.”

Yes, Megan silently agreed, you should. Instead, she said, “Gerry was at the base hospital just a short time ago, Tonya.”

“No way.” Tonya sounded angry and confused at the same time. “He’s in his bed.”

Megan listened to the change in the phone’s pitch, knowing that Tonya Fletcher was walking through the house. She waited patiently, hoping that the woman was going to tell her that Gerry had returned home. If he had, Megan was content to let things at the Fletcher home gel for the moment and concentrate on getting Boyd Fletcher blocked from being around his son without proper supervision.

A moment later, Tonya’s voice took on a note of hysteria. “He’s not here, Mrs. Gander. He’s not here. His bed is empty. Where did you say he was?”