Liberty or Tyranny (26 page)

“Let’s go,” Nate whispered. “I’m sure they’re still hunting us.”

Two hours later, they came to a small opening in the swamp and Nate turned to his right to skirt around the edge. The sun was over the horizon, casting tall shadows from their side of the clearing and penetrating into the tree line on the far side. A flash of sunlight reflecting off of glass or bright metal caught Nate’s attention. “Down!” He landed on his belly, as did the others a split second later.

A staccato of gunshots assaulted their ears, and bullets ripped at the trees just above them.

“Belly crawl,” Nate yelled. The others followed him, dragging their bellies on the leaf-strewn swamp floor. Caroline had to crawl on her hands and knees because she had Samantha hanging from her neck, but she managed, despite her backpack being grazed twice by bullets and her
prosthetic leg hindering her.

By the time they had crawled 20 yards, the shooting had stopped. Nate yelled, “Stay on my ass and stay low.” He jumped up and ran.

~~~

Capinos listened to the ex-CIA operative on the satellite phone. He was part of a team of killers Capinos had hired, mostly soldier-of-fortune types that would kill for money and work for anyone, but the leaders of the teams were ex-CIA. Since money wasn’t of much value at the moment, they were paid with lots of gold that might have value again someday, and food, clothing, shelter, ammo, fuel, and other items needed to survive the current conditions of the post-plague collapse.

Capinos scowled. “So you failed to complete your mission.” The man on the other end started to speak. “Oh shut up! I don’t need excuses about how they’re hiding in thick woods or any other bullshit. You men are supposed to be the best. They’re just hicks. I’m on a schedule here. And you’re running out of time.
I’m
running out of time. I have an important meeting in a few minutes and I expected this little matter to have been taken care of by now.” He jerked his head back in reaction to what the other man said. “Huh? Never mind why I want them dead! They may not be a threat to national security but they’ve pissed me off. Look. I want them dead. If you want to keep your job, you will get this done, and soon.”

He terminated the communication and dropped into his chair behind the desk. Mentally switching gears, he regained his composure in preparation for the arrival of the entire Joint Chiefs of Staff. His request to see them all in the Oval Office was so unusual it certainly alerted the generals that the execution of a few BGs who had signed that damned petition was just the beginning and that the waiting was over. He purposely gave them all night to sweat it out and worry about what was coming. If they all showed up, he was in trouble. If none of them showed up, he was in trouble. If half showed and half were no-shows, he had a chance. It would mean they were not in solidarity. He prayed for discord among the generals.

At exactly 11 AM, his secretary announced that Army General Carl Strovenov, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, had arrived. “Alone?” Capinos asked.

The secretary answered, “Yes.”

Capinos smiled just a little but seemed to be puzzled. “Send him in.”

General Strovenov walked in wearing civilian clothes.

Capinos furrowed his brow. “This is not an informal meeting, General.”

Strovenov stood in front of the desk. “The government I swore an oath to serve no longer exists. Why should I be wearing its military’s uniform?”

Shocked by his words, Capinos cleared his throat and tried to speak but nothing intelligible came out.

Strovenov looked him in the eye. “The others will not be coming. They are busy preparing.”

“Preparing?” Capinos asked. “Preparing for what?”

“To clean up the mess you made,” was Strovenov’s answer. “There won’t be any more executions of military officers, or civilians.” He glared at Capinos. “But if your bloodlust still consumes your soul, I’m here to offer my life. Kill me or don’t kill me. Either way, elections will take place in less than six months and you will resign your office, effective noon today.” He looked at his watch. “You have 50 minutes to have me executed. After that, you will have lost your chance.”

Capinos dropped his jaw. “Do you really think you have the power to –”

Strovenov interrupted him. “I have no power at all. I expect to be dead in a few minutes. It’s the American people who have the power,
and
the backing of every branch of the military. You went too far and squandered your chance to be the president that led America out of its worst nightmare. You could’ve been a great icon in world history and respected above our Founding Fathers, but your ego rotted your mind and your soul. Now you’ll be despised for eternity.” He raised his empty hands in anguish. “We were doing it! In just a few short months, we were making a difference, starting the process to recovery. But you wouldn’t have it. To hell with the people and the nation, you wanted power.”

Capinos slapped a panic button, alerting Secret Service agents. His hands shook as he lifted a phone off the hook and then he dropped it when he realized it was the red phone that connected him to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. His desperate eyes lit up as he snatched the satellite phone off the desk. Two Secret Service agents burst in, Glock pistols pointing at Strovenov. Capinos motioned with his head. “Arrest him. Hold him in a room somewhere nearby.”

Strovenov made no attempt to resist. “Calling your private army will do you no good. You’ll just get more people killed needlessly. It’s over. You’re finished.”

The agents forced Strovenov out the door.

~~~

As early morning became mid-afternoon, Nate and the others lost the strength to run, and then the strength to walk fast. Still, they pushed on at three miles per hour, led only by Nate’s compass and woodsmanship skills.

Exhausted, Nate found a windfall to sit on. “Take five and have a drink.” He slipped out of his pack and reached for a canteen. “We’re paralleling the river, heading north. We’ll keep going a few miles farther and turn east to cross back over to the east side about sundown, when we still have enough light to see the moccasins and gators.”

Brian wiped at his sweaty forehead with an already sweat-soaked handkerchief. “I almost wish it was winter and cold as hell again.”

Deni tried to smile. “It’s late summer. What do you expect?”

Nate put his canteen away. “If it was winter, the trees would be bare of leaves and they could see us easier from the air.”

Deni swallowed a mouth full of water from her canteen, eyes wide. “Those hunting us on the ground could see us easier too.”

Samantha cried. She had been crying most of the day. Caroline held a canteen to her mouth. “Drink. You’re getting dehydrated.” She looked at Nate and Deni, anger creasing her face. “She’s too young for this. There’s no strength left in her little arms to hold onto my neck while I run. I’m not going to torture her any longer. I’d rather go back and kill some of the bastards while you take her out of here.”

Nate cast a glance at their back trail and mopped sweat from his forehead. “One of them is a tracker. That’s why we haven’t shaken them off our ass. Most likely it’s a two-man team. You need at least one man to stay alert for danger while the tracker keeps his eyes on the ground. They switch off every hour or so. Could be a three-man team, but I only need to kill two of them.”

Deni gripped her rifle with both hands. “Why does it always have to be you? I was a soldier only a few months ago.”

Nate coughed. “Yeah, that’s what good husbands do. Run away while their wives fight.”

Deni rolled her eyes. “That’s sexist bullshit.”

“No,” Nate said, “it’s doing the right thing.” He looked at Brian. “I want you to take them to the two islands just before the river turns sharply to the east. On the south end of the first island, the water is shallower except for the first eight feet or so. It’ll be easier for you to cross there.”

The expression on Brian’s face spoke louder than words. “I’ll get them across. But you better meet us on the other side sometime tonight. We’re not going to survive this without you.”

His determination coming to the surface, Nate said, “I’ll be there. I expect it’s spooks on our trail. I’m not going to let any CIA spooks get the best of me.”

“Is that Army pride or something?” Deni asked.

Nate looked around, trying to penetrate the wall of green that encircled them. “More like rage. They shot at us and burned us out. They’re trying to kill my wife, my son, and my friend, not to mention a little girl.” He stood and slipped into his pack. “Take off. Sunlight’s burning.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Brian looked at the western sky. “That rain comes our way, they won’t be tracking us anymore until tomorrow. We’ll be on the other side of the river by then.” He looked at his father with hope in his eyes. “Maybe you don’t have to go back and fight them.”

Nate saw Deni’s reaction and froze for a second. “Oh hell, I’m not exactly jumping at a chance to get shot at. We’ll go on a few miles farther. But if rain doesn’t wash away our trail soon, you’ll be going on to the river without me.”

~~~

The slight breeze that had been too weak to cool them, invigorated by the coming thunderstorm, gradually shook off its lethargy, setting the woods to motion and making it more difficult to spot movement. Nate worried they were moving too fast and could walk into an ambush, but they were being pressed by their pursuers to push on. Each second, each step torturous, Nate balanced the need for speed with the need for caution and tried to ignore the crawling of his skin from nervous tension. He wished he had sent them on without him, but realized if the killers had split up and sent a group ahead to set up an ambush, the results would be worse if he were not with them. They would want to take him out first, and that might give the others a chance to get out of the kill zone, where life expectancy would be measured in seconds. He shivered in the heat and pressed on, turning more to the east. He thought it best not to travel in the same direction too long, to make it more difficult for the killers to set up that ambush he feared so much.

By noon, clouds that had rolled in earlier grew high and deep under the energy of the sun. The humid air was so heavy with moisture rain became inevitable. When it finally came, it arrived with full force, in a torrent, but stopped after a few minutes. A surge of wind, mixing hot air with cool, came down from the blue-black sky and swept down on them without warning. The roar of a soaking downpour rolled across the swampland in an advancing wall of rain. In seconds, they were soaked. The crack of lightning bolts and thunder added to the violence of the tempest.

Bullfrogs croaked in the swamp. More thunder from distant storms hung in the heavy air for a moment before being overwhelmed by the clap of thunder from jagged bolts of lightning above them.

Samantha’s cries grew louder with each lightning strike. Nate stopped and motioned for them to gather around him. He yanked his pack off and produced a poncho from a side pocket. While he unrolled it, he said, “Deni. Brian. Help me hold this over Caroline and Samantha so Caroline can get her into something dry before she chills too much. Afterwards, she can use the poncho to keep Samantha from getting wet and cold again.”

After Caroline and Samantha were finished and the little girl was warm and dry in the poncho, her little face almost invisible in the shade of the hood and several times too long for her, they moved on. None of the adults wanted to don their ponchos, preferring to enjoy the cold rain and wind, as well as the shower. It felt good not to be soaked with sweat and swamp filth. Besides, a poncho would hinder their ability to run and get at their weapons and ammo magazines.

Nate carried Samantha a while. She was too big for carrying and too small to keep up with them. There was no way she could walk with the oversize poncho on, anyway. Not long after the first storm passed another one hit with equal force. The heavy overcast made the swamp under the canopy of trees almost as dark as night. The closer they got to the river, the wetter it was, and they were forced to go around flooded low areas. It was then Nate realized the rain was coming so fast, the river would be rising by the time they got to the islands. A windfall was nearby. So he walked to it and sat down. The log was soggy but hadn’t rotted yet and was still solid. He motioned for the others to sit beside him.

They sat down on the log, grasping their rifles and peering through the rain, alert to the danger they knew was out there.

Nate was about to speak but was interrupted by a crashing in the brush uphill from them. In a blur of motion, they all slid off the log and got behind it.

Noticing fear on the face of the others, Samantha was wide-eyed but silent for once. Caroline whispered in her ear, “Be very quiet and just lay here behind this log.” She sat up and shouldered her rifle, clicking the safety off.

Somewhere out there hidden in the green gloom of the jungle, under the shade of heavy rain clouds and the canopy of tree tops above, a killer had just made a fatal mistake.

Nate got down low and peered over the log. He hand signaled for the others to do the same and then mouthed the words,
don’t fire until I do.
His skin tingled with nervous tension, all senses on high-volume intensity, eyes funneling in and focusing the images before him in minute detail. He pulled his M14 tight against his shoulder and clicked the safety off with the back of his trigger finger, thinking in a minute or two he just might get a chance to end the hunt by killing the hunters. That is if it was the two or three man team of trackers coming at them and not an entire platoon of trained killers. He hoped the tracking team was far enough ahead of the main force he and the others could kill them and then flee the area before the others arrived. He looked over at Deni, Brian, Caroline, and Samantha and wondered if he was about to get them killed. The only thing that had kept them alive so far was their success at preventing the highly trained killers from locating them and fixing their position so they couldn’t sneak off before being annihilated. He gripped his rifle tighter with sweaty hands and resolved to not let that happen.