Tread Fearless: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 4) (30 page)

D
espite their late start, the company made good time heading north on highway 89, and they soon reached the outskirts of a small town called Cornish. By looking at the map, Pete knew highway 70, a much more heavily trafficked but still a two-lane road, ran east to west. Despite its purpose, or the risk it posed to their safety, Pete very much wanted to turn west on that highway. It offered a more direct route to their destination.

Besides, if they went too much farther north, they would eventually have to turn south, and he hated the idea of backtracking for any distance, even if the route demanded it. For Pete, the best way to get to their destination was by following as straight a line as possible. Still, he trusted John and the compass, and tried to relax and go with it

About two miles from town, Pete pulled into a drive that led a short distance to a solitary oil derrick pump. A heavy metal gate blocked the road leading up to the stationary pump, but Pete was more interested in talking to John than clearing their vehicles off the road. Besides, they agreed to stop before every town, regardless of size, and assess the need to either bypass or enter and pass directly through.

He told the boys to take a break, but post a guard. They climbed out of the van, and Adam offered to pull security while everyone else stretched. Pete waved to him, and then walked away to stand by the side of the road and wait for John’s Suburban to appear.

He was about five minutes ahead of the main body, and it had been at least that long since he last radioed John. Pete didn’t radio John about the stop, but he knew he would see him in plenty of time. Besides, such
a stop was part of their Standard Operating Procedure. And as far as SOPs went, there’s was mostly military in nature, infantry to be exact, but tweaked to suit their non-tactical limitations.

Pete knew John was anxious to keep moving, and move fast, but the only problem with fast movement was that it was dangerous. It worked if they were in contact with the enemy, but they weren’t. They had yet to encounter any kind of threat on the road. Still, he was cautious and alert, and convinced they could reach Colorado in two days or less.

The Suburban cleared a rise and came into view. Pete moved up the drive and waited for John to pull in, but he didn’t stop. John passed Pete doing more than fifty, and barely offered a glance his way. Pete cursed and said, “What the heck?” and grabbed his radio as he watched Paul pass by in his truck with the same apparent disdain.
“They couldn’t have missed me,”
he thought.

Pete keyed the mic and raised it to his lips, but with no break of the squelch he knew the problem. “Dammit!” he yelled and said, “Mount up! Something’s going on.”

“What’s that, sergeant major?” asked Adam, and he looked around, thinking there was some immediate and nearby threat.

“I’ll tell you in the car. Corbin, get your butt in the van or I’ll leave you here!” Corbin jumped at Pete’s command and ran to the van while zipping his fly. Pete grabbed the radio and tried it again. Nothing. He turned and tossed the radio to Marcus, “Replace the batteries, ASAP.”

“Roger that sergeant major,” said the young man, and he began digging into his pack for a set of double A’s.

Pete liked the idea of a second radio, like what John and Paul were using, but the short range of that particular model made it useless for Pete. Still, it would have worked during their drive by. Corbin grabbed the radio from Marcus and removed the old batteries before Pete had the engine started. By the time he reached the road, Corbin handed him the radio with fresh batteries.

Just as he raised the radio to his lips, a full-sized, white, SUV, with blue lights flashing, screamed past them doing at least seventy.

“Geronimo!” said Pete over his now active radio.

“Affirmative!” was John’s tense reply. “Glad you could join us.”

“Sorry, coms problems. Tango just passed. A white SUV. You tracking?” asked Pete, but then he handed the radio to Adam and said, “Take this, I need to drive. And get ready for action.”

“Yes, sergeant major,” said the three young men simultaneously, and very bravely.

“Roger. Picked him up about five miles ago. He was pulling out when I passed him,” said John.

“Ask your dad what he plans to do,” instructed Pete.

Adam nodded and keyed the radio, “What are your plans, over?”

Jenna answered and said, “Pass over highway seventy and take the first left. That will be “L” street. Then clear the town by three miles, and stop. He wants to know if you can assume an over-watch position.”

Pete heard John give Jenna the instructions before Jenna could even parrot them over the radio. As soon as Jenna finished, Pete offered, “Affirmative,” and Adam parroted Pete’s reply through the radio.

As Pete accelerated to catch up with the first white SUV, a second one came up fast behind them, also with its discrete blue light flashing. “What the heck is going on with these white SUV’s,” snapped Pete. And while looking in the rearview mirror, he said, “Radioman! Tell Blue there’s another Geronimo inbound. Make that TWO Geronimo’s.”

Adam turned to look and Pete said, “Do it now, Adam. If you please!”

Adam did as ordered and asked, “What’s going on?”

“It’s not the time for twenty questions!” snapped Pete, as he swerved hard left to block the passing SUV.

Jenna’s reply of, “Can you interdict?” was no surprise. Pete had already planned to do so anyway. The second white SUV moved right and Pete silently cursed the van’s small engine. He practically had to anticipate the moves of the other driver just to stay in front of him. He swerved left, then right, and said, “Tell her yes! Quickly . . . and get your weapons ready, but keep them down.”

The driver of the white SUV tried to surge forward on the left, but again, Pete was ready for him and managed to cut him off. He saw the driver strike the steering wheel and thought,
“That’s right, get angry. I need you, angry.”

“Whoa, sergeant major, those guys looked pissed,” yelled Corbin. The boys were holding on tight, and appeared to be enjoying the vehicle rodeo much more than they should.

Pete looked through the rearview mirror again and yelled, “Get down!” just as a single shot blew out the van’s back window. The round passed through Adam’s sleeping bag, and sliced a long black trench in the van’s gray vinyl roof lining before it exited through the roof behind Pete’s head.

Pete swerved to the right and slowed. When the white SUV moved to speed past them on the left, Pete emptied his pistol magazine at the SUV’s front passenger side door. The heavy, forty-five-caliber rounds had no difficulty entering the vehicle, and it slewed right, then left, and finally sailed off the road and into a ditch where it rolled onto its side and slid to a stop with its engine still running.

After stopping the van behind the crash, Pete reloaded and said to the boys, “Tactical security. Two men back. Adam, you’re with me. Let’s go.”

Pete jumped out and approached the SUV by its recently exposed undercarriage. The rear tires continued to spin aggressively, having nothing to grip. The engine whined under the negative contact with the road, and seemed ready to come loose of its mounts. He positioned Adam to cover the back window, and then moved around to the front.

The windshield was shattered and laying on the ground in one large piece of webbed glass. Both front air-bags were deployed, and laying limp against the two men in the front seats. They were still buckled securely in, but both bleeding. The passenger from a head wound, and the driver from his chest.

Movement in the back seat caught Pete’s attention and he yelled, “Show me your hands now . . . out where I can see them, or I’ll shoot!”

“Got leaking gas here, Pete!” came Adam’s voice from the far side of the SUV.

Pete cringed at the open use of his name, and reminded himself to tell the boys never to do that near the enemy. “Okay,” he replied calmly. “Move back to the van, and cover the road north. Make sure the other two are properly positioned in case another SUV shows up. Go now,” ordered Pete.

Adam hollered, “Roger,” in reply, and Pete heard him run off.

Pete never took his eyes of the sole survivor who was still struggling to free himself from his seatbelt. He watched as the man fumbled around, and once released he ordered him to stand up and exit the SUV from the top. The man stood and pushed the rear passenger door up, cursed once when it dropped heavily onto his head, but then managed to pull himself up and out of the SUV with one arm. “You better hurry,” said Pete calmly, “unless you want to burn up in that rig.”

The man slid down the side toward the roof, and dropped to the ground. He cradled his right arm in his left, and groaned when he hit the ground hard. “Broken arm?” asked Pete.

“What’s it to you. You guys are in big trouble.” said the man, as he dropped to his butt in the dirt. He looked pale, white and pasty from the shock of his broken arm, but Pete watched him closely. The thirty-something man was fit, clean shaven, and dressed in army digital camouflage pants, with black boots and a black t-shirt. A matching tactical loadbearing vest covered his chest at an angle, and he did nothing to straighten it.

Pete ordered the man to toss his pistol aside, and the man complied saying, “I’m a federal agent . . . we are federal agents.”

“Federal agents, huh? What kind of federal agents shoot at people when they’re driving down the road?” asked Pete, as he kept his pistol aimed at the man’s head.

“The kind that are in pursuit of federal fugitives,” he spat.

At first, Pete wondered if he had made a grave mistake. “Lancer!” he yelled, using Adam’s tactical name. “Bring me the radio!”

Adam delivered the radio to Pete, eyed the man on the ground suspiciously, and then ran back to assume his position near the van. When he was gone, Pete keyed the mic and said, “Geronimo two is down. Status?” Nothing. Pete tried again and there was still no answer.

“If you’re a federal agent, let me see your badge and credentials,” said Pete.

The man laid back, and with his good arm he reached into a back pocket and tossed out a small, thick black leather wallet for Pete to inspect. Pete bent to pick it up without once diverting the aim of his pistol from the man. He then flipped the wallet open and studied it while holding it in the direction of the man it belonged to.

Pete noted that the badge looked like official federal issue, but the credentials shocked him. “FEMA?” he asked aloud.

“That’s right!” snapped the man. “I’m a special agent with the Federal Emergency Management Agency.”

“I know what FEMA stands for you idiot, but I didn’t know they had an enforcement arm. Still, that doesn’t justify you shooting at me with a car full of boys. And just who are you after, anyway?” asked Pete, both worried and interested.

“We were in pursuit of a black SUV and dually pickup believed to be carrying essential supplies for the purpose of distributing and fomenting contention among the civilian population,” was the man’s official response.

With a surprised laugh, Pete said, “Say what?”

“He’s a hoarder. We picked him up by air outside of Saint Jo. We thought we lost him, but then unit twenty-three picked him up a few miles back. I’m sure they’re in custody now . . . just like you will be in a few minutes. As a matter of fact, you’re under arrest,” he snapped and grimaced from pain as he tried to stand.

Pete shot the man and yelled to Adam that he was fine. He then stripped him of his tactical vest, grabbed the discarded pistol, and dragged the body next to the smoking SUV. By the time Pete reached
the van, the SUV was beginning to burn freely. He yelled, “Mount up!” When the boys approached looking for answers, Pete said while pointing to the SUV, “We’ve got to move now! Get in!”

The boys quickly piled in and Pete pulled away before they had time to shut the sliding door. “Leave it open,” he yelled. “We may need to act fast when we reach John.”

“Is dad okay?” asked Adam.

“I don’t know. He didn’t answer the radio,” and with that, Pete handed the radio to Adam and said, “Try to raise him.”

“Dad, are you there?” asked Adam, excited and worried.

“Radio discipline, Adam. Use tactical names only,” snapped Pete.

Adam tried again, this time using the proper call-signs, but there was still no answer. Pete saw fear grow in Adam’s eyes and said, “Your dad’s more than capable of handling the guys in the other SUV.”

“Yeah, but he’s got my mom and sister with him, and the kids, Paul’s and Marissa’s kids. We’ve got to hurry!”

“Adam! Get a grip on yourself. He only wanted us to assume an over-watch position. But we’ll be there soon enough, so stay in control of yourself. Fear and panic will kill you quicker than anything else on the battlefield.”

“You’re right,” said Adam, and he took a couple of deep breaths. He calmed down and turned to Pete to say, “Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” said Pete. “Now keep trying the radio.”

A minute later, their van passed into Cornish, and Pete darted across the empty and quiet highway 70 without even stopping. When he reached “L” street a block later, he turned sharply left and began to scan the road ahead for any signs of the first white SUV, or the rest of the company for that matter. Finally, the radio squawked to life and Pete heard John’s report, “Threat contained. We’re safe and secure. Status?”

“Acknowledged,” replied Adam, and he looked to Pete for instructions.

Pete nodded and said, “The same, but we should move immediately.” Adam repeated the message and they heard, “Affirmative. Waiting for your arrival,” from John’s end of the radio.

“There they are!” said Adam, as he pointed ahead, excitedly.

“Radio?” asked Pete.

Adam handed the radio to Pete, and Pete immediately held it to his mouth to say, “We need to roll. Maybe even seek cover.”

“There’s not much around in terms of cover,” radioed John in reply. “I think we should put as much distance from this place as we can.”

“I’m coming up now. I won’t stop unless you need me too,” radioed Pete.

“I see you. No, keep rolling. We’ll be right behind you. No gaps this time. Let’s keep it tight.”