Hit and Run
August 1st
Colorado
1
Thud!
The noise woke the soldiers closest to it. They glanced around in confusion, trying to find the source.
Thud!
Smack!
Hiss…
The center of the platoon scrambled way from that sound. Snakes were a common way to die in the Utah bunker they’d come from.
Thud!
Waking now, the men were rising, grabbing for weapons as the noises grew closer together.
Thud! Slam! Whap!
Bags and boxes rained on them, tubs and bowls, and in each, was a snake or scorpion.
“Get under cover! Find cover!”
The order echoed off the walls of the canyon, but the command hadn’t ordered canopies erected. The soldiers had nowhere to go as the dangerous animals fell into their campsite. With the darkness only broken by their torches and campfires, it was impossible to determine who was sending them.
“Get them up! Up! Up!”
Men followed orders, not panicked but leery for the next hit and quick to crunch anything alive under their boots. That changed as the surviving animals began to attack. There were only a few deaths, but more than three dozen men were stung or bitten, and it sent a powerful message. There would be no comforting sleep, not the kind they’d been enjoying. It was a reminder that this was war and mental battles would be fought. Marc could have killed a large number of them here, but that would increase their security procedures too quickly. Besides that, wounded men always slowed things up and that’s why they’d come–to buy time.
“But if I get the chance…” Marc waved to the men to fall back as teams of soldiers began assembling to investigate. “Let’s get some sleep while they play ‘who is that in the rocks?’”
The other ghosts snickered and followed him down into their hole to wait for the next moment of attack.
As Marc pulled the cover over the hiding place, he picked out the moon and let it vanish slowly. “Good night, baby-cakes.”
He slid down the rope and jerked it loose. Stashing it in his pocket, he turned to the men who were taking places around the cold fire pit. “Let’s go over tomorrow’s set, then we’ll get some sleep. Five hours from now, an entire platoon will be on top of us. Remember…”
“We are ghosts,” they chanted in an intimidating whisper.
Marc kept working them up, guiding them. Physically, they were ready. Mentally, they were all scarred refugees forced into fighting for their friends and family. It might not be enough to save them, but they would do damage now, while the road was clear to run. When they hit 40, that wouldn’t be possible. They would trail the soldiers and keep pecking at them until the wound was a giant hole for their men to gush through.
Tomorrow, they would ride hard and be reunited with his rookies shortly after that. Being able to cut straight across the land on a horse was a time-saver that allowed him to appear to really be a Ghost to those who didn’t already believe it.
Marc wondered how many men were waiting for him, but didn’t let himself worry over it. Fifty or five hundred, they would do damage. Jax and Paul should at least have a large part of 40 wired by now with all the hands he’d sent them. That would be a tough route to follow, but once they marched a single foot onto 40, the soldiers would have no other choice.
2
“Hit the deck!”
Marc’s men lunged for the ground as the grenade sailed into the crags behind them.
Kablammm!
Marc waved them forward. “Now! Go! Go!”
Natoli and Thaddeus fired their launchers together, and Marc waved for them to get down even before their shots exploded.
Kablamm!
Dirt and rock rained over the rebels like a downpour, slicing and clouding vision.
Boom! Boom!
“Pull back!” Marc shouted, still counting the seconds. “Get out of here!”
Shadow Riders scattered in the brief pause, not waiting to verify that their shots had landed.
Marc waited for the next blast of incoming fire, able to sense where it would land. He lunged aside and barely avoided being caught in the small rockslide.
Ears ringing, Marc hefted his own launcher and fired the last shell.
Kablamm!
He went straight south instead of the east or west flee that the soldiers expected. Their shells exploded harmlessly as Marc slid down the rocky path and vanished into the small town.
Marc spotted several of his men also moving toward their next trap and joined them along the wall. They had fighters waiting here.
Marc gave the code as he and the others burst through the door. “Drop those pants! It’s a go! Go!”
Kablamm!
Boom!
The sounds of the fighting arriving on their doorstep sent an unpleasant shiver of adrenaline through every man there.
“Fire!”
“Fire!”
Marc held the door for the men to flee out the other side of the building as their group across the street blew a stash of C-4. Wired to a shallow patch under the dirt, it was aimed at the only bridge. The soldiers would be forced to clear it or go around.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Marc ducked the noise of incoming fire, even though he and his men were clear. It was stunning, disorienting.
He shoved the man in front of him toward their next hole and was glad when the others followed. There wasn’t time or workers to keep track of everyone, but his main group, he knew the whereabouts of.
“Down!”
Marc stayed standing as the whistle grew louder, trying to pinpoint. He was relieved when it went east of them.
“Go! Go!”
Marc herded his small crew down the stairwell and led them through the darkness. They splashed unhappily across the street and came up through the basement of a store. Though it had been months, the smells were still rough.
Marc waved them into the small bomb cellar in the rear of the basement and shut the door. In fifteen minutes, when the center of the troops came by, the vulnerable element from the sides and bottom, they would blow this place and go underground to a third wired setup.
All around them explosions and screams were echoing through the chaos. Four other groups were busy doing the same as Marc’s, each with three strategically targets.
Marc checked the timer and sipped on his water, motioning for the others to do the same. None of them spoke.
The rumble of engines came and every heart thumped anxiously. With another exit waiting for them, they felt relatively safe, but panic was riding underneath as the thuds and rumbles began passing over.
The enemy had done their own recon and knew there was an army out here, but not how many or where it was based. Since the majority of the riders came from the south, the soldiers assumed that’s where the attacks were originating. They thought the Mexicans were attempting another takeover and were ruthless against them, which pissed off the Mexicans. Other than Sebastian, who wanted revenge, his population had chosen not to get involved in Safe Haven’s fight. With government fire teams now venturing south to deal out destruction for Marc’s attacks, a full complement of Mexicans soldiers had joined the fight a couple hours ago and the battle was raging unchecked all across 40. The government troops had gotten too spread out and the Shadow Riders were taking advantage of it in every area they could.
They had also been reinforced a bit by small groups from the west. Most were strangers who had heard the calls going out, but a few were also from Safe Haven. They, too, wanted to be on the front lines and make sure it didn’t go further than 40. Marc knew that wasn’t possible, but he welcomed each of them eagerly. He’d given this stage two weeks. He needed double that for the camp to make it to the mountains. They would be setting things up there while the government took over a base that would do them no good. These little delays would mean the difference between maybe winning and certain death.
4
“Here he comes!”
“He’s here!”
Marc plastered a welcoming expression on his face as the call went through the tired camp. After each team blew their three targets, they immediately went to the next camp down the road, where those teams were preparing for their own runs. They would be fed, tended, and reassigned to yet another target further down 40. Those tired men stayed by the fires, giving him a nod of accomplishment. It was the others in the camp–the new arrivals and camp tag-a-longs–that Marc had to pretend for, but he didn’t feel like shaking hands. He needed sleep.
It would be another three days of hitting base camps and joining these battles before he could break away and join his Eagles. Paul and Jax were doing nicely along the eastern end of 40, according to the reports he was receiving, but Marc needed to see them, needed to be reminded of Safe Haven. All this killing was bad for him. He liked it too much.
5
Just before dawn, Marc was among the small groups going out to do the day’s terrorizing. The others had blown their targets during the night–continuing Marc’s campaign of no sleep for the enemy–and the Shadow Riders had little trouble sneaking up on the exhausted, dozing men.
Marc waved Kendle into place. She was the lookout for this run. Tomorrow, she would fight at his side.
Marc led his team down the hill, using moldy cactus and decrepit shelters as cover. The smoke from campfires and the scent of coffee hung over the area.
Marc drew his weapon as they got closer and knew the others with him were doing the same. They’d gotten very good at following his lead.
Their setup hadn’t been discovered and they quickly pulled the brambles from the thick, stubby tree forks they’d sank into concreted holes a few days ago. With large bands attached, they had half a dozen small, strong slingshots to pummel the enemy with until they figured out where to fire. Across from them, a second team was waiting with the same setup. All these items had come from the surrounding town. Marc was extremely proud of their scrounging and inventiveness. There were only so many grenades, so many guns, but there was hundreds of miles of apocalyptic roads to mine.
Marc helped to uncover the stash of ammunition and began loading, listening to the soldiers boots as they began their daily march to destroy everything he loved.
Marc dug his heels in and leaned back, using his big arms to pull the band into place. He aimed high, waiting for the others to match it. He nodded to tell them when theirs was right.
Marc listened, arms protesting.
Now, the demon whispered.
Marc let go.
The fertilizer bombs caused powerful explosions, though the value of this weapon was in the damage it did to the buildings and structures. It sent debris down into the road in large chunks of smoldering metal and brick, blocking it.
Dust filled the air as the sounds of exploding weapons and screaming men rang in their ears.
Marc waited for all of his team to fire their second wave, and then followed them into the sewer. This was the last town where they would use this hiding style. The soldiers weren’t stupid. By now, they had to be figuring out how the rebels were able to hit and run. Marc had thought even using it one more time might be too much, but he’d had to take the chance. After this, the soldiers had a straight march across 40. He had to do more damage now, while he could.
6
Marc motioned Kendle into place. They were doing a last hit on their own before meeting up with the next camp and she was eager to draw blood again. The disease appeared to leave her alone for almost a full day when she got to commit an act of violence.
As Kendle slipped into place behind the small campfire, it was easier to pretend that it was Angie. There wasn’t a long, black braid or the scent of vanilla, but there was a fire burning that had to have a release.
Marc moved into the next slot, using the debris piles as cover. He nodded to her when she held up the grenade. It was only a smoker, but the suppressor he’d given her yesterday was something she hadn’t gotten to play with yet. He had no doubt she would stick around and breathe in smoke fumes to get a good run with it.
Kendle tossed the grenade lightly and the wind drafted it right into the middle of the snoozing soldiers.
Smoke poured out.
Marc took a cover position as Kendle drew her gun.
The four-man team didn’t get to return fire. Kendle was too good for that.
Marc had to take her by the arm as the smoke began to fade. The bodies weren’t bloody enough to satisfy her and Marc knew they’d be working out again before bed.
“Come on. We have to go.”
Kendle went reluctantly. Shooting wasn’t as good as stabbing or slicing. She needed that!
Marc tossed an arm around her shoulders, leaning close. “Vanilla is about the best smell in the world to most men.”
Kendle blinked, realizing he was giving her something she could use.
Marc pushed his agenda a little more. “And long hair. The men in Safe Haven love long hair.
Kendle patted her own shoulder-length locks self-consciously.
Marc chuckled, tugging her closer. “Not you. You’re one of the guys. I meant as a mate, the future. Hard not to wonder what it might be like if we win.”
Kendle didn’t answer. She was becoming too attached to Marc. She didn’t want to think about a time when she might have to give him up. His comments about smell and hair were noted, though. If he liked those things, later, when she could, she would do them for him. They were small things to ask of her, considering how good he was, how right he preferred to be. It made him a strong leader and she was already willing to follow him anywhere. If that eventually led them to his home, she would adjust. And maybe fight this Angela woman for him.
7
Marc rounded the last curve before they got to the camp that Paul and Jax were hopefully still in charge of. The soldiers had driven them back and Marc had been forced to go to their base camp to make sure things were ready now. The troops were coming faster than he could hold them. He didn’t know how many of the other groups had survived.
There were lights glowing from multiple fires, but Marc didn’t understand how many fighters had come until he topped the small rise.
“Wow.”
Kendle’s comment was lost in Marc’s shock. The vast, sprawling camp before them resembled Safe Haven so much that he had stopped, filled with longing. I miss home.
The riders behind them were also stunned by the sight as a feeling of hope began to swell among the tired men. With this many warriors, they might actually stand a chance.
Paul came greet them.
The camp fell quiet as they watched. Their gazes were protective, wary, and Marc understood his rookies had been closely cared for.
“Welcome back,” Paul called, happiness stretching across his bearded face. “You are a sight, my friend.”
Marc laughed, driven to it by the demon’s whispers. “We’re gonna wipe them out.”
Around him, his riders cheered. If Marc said something was going to happen, it happened.
The happy noise brought fast attention. The camp of hundreds began making their way toward Marc.
Paul immediately waved them off, raising his voice. “After he gets fed and tended. Let him come to you.”
Marc was grateful when the dozens of shadows stopped and then returned to what they’d been doing–waiting.
“Tell them to have two representatives from every group come to a meeting. We’ll fill in all the details and plans then.”
Paul wrote it down, aware of Marc picking out his clean clothes, the unharmed hands.
“They won’t let you work?”
Paul snorted. “They think leadership means sitting on my ass and handing out orders. I hope you’re gonna change that now that you’re here.”
Marc didn’t make any promises.
“Fine.” Paul smirked. “It is kinda nice to be able sleep with both eyes closed.”
Paul turned his attention to Kendle, saw her possessive clutch on Marc’s waist. He scowled. Angie wouldn’t like that. He didn’t say anything, however.
Marc let him off the hook. “Paul, will you take Kendle somewhere she can get cleaned up and eat?”
“I want to stay with you.”
“Paul.”
Paul gently tugged Kendle down, trying to soothe her. “We have a tent ready for both of you and there’s hot water. You can even do your hair if you want.”
Kendle reluctantly allowed herself to be led away.
Marc felt the hunger as Kendle stumbled through the masses of men. The demon lunged out to cover her in protection. Dark where they were, the glow was obvious.
Those closest shrank away in respectful fear as she walked beside Paul.
Satisfied that word would spread, Marc turned to the trio now approaching him. “Make sure she has a guard. She gets angry and cannot be controlled.”
“Do you wish me to handle it for you?” Atolius asked tonelessly.
“No. We need her for the fight. Keep her safe.”
“I will put my best men on it.”
Marc went down the hill as they began updating him, but his thoughts were on his army. In these brave men, he would deliver a battle like none the government had ever experienced on this soil. They had started this war. He would be the one to end it.
8
Marc didn’t waste time or censor his words as he met with the forty men who’d come to represent their groups. He gave them the cold, hard numbers and his outlines for doing damage. They would relay it word for word to their men.
He got out of the planning meeting as soon as he could however, leaving them to figure out the best way to do it. There were too many strangers here and too little time for him to try what Adrian had. All Marc could do was pass his wishes on and depend on his allies to carry them out.
As soon as he left the meeting, Marc went to check on Kendle. His time in Safe Haven had given him a very protective nature, but he also needed to know she was alive so that his plan was safe. As he walked, acknowledging the other hard-ass men here, Marc wondered if that had been where Adrian had started at with Angela.
Since leaving Safe Haven, Marc had found himself stewing over the spark between her and Adrian–when it had started, how it had been triggered. He still didn’t have an answer for it, only the final solution of being himself now. His pretenses were gone. He was as open as he’d ever been. And it was likely too late. He could feel her calling, reassuring, but he could also feel her restlessness. When it became too much, she would turn to Adrian for comfort.
And I’ll forgive her, Marc thought, stopping in the shadows to observe. He felt Jax on his heels, eager to be his shadow, and held the pride in check.
Kendle was working with two other women, squaws from what Marc could tell by their demeanor and markings. The trio of females was chatting lightly as they checked through a stack of clothes that had been scavenged in a recent haul. It was surrounded by bags and boxes of supplies that anyone was free to use.
Kendle felt his stare, but didn’t turn around. He’d been stuck with her on the road, but he could leave her with the women now. She wasn’t going to force her company on him any longer.
Marc wondered if she actually understood what the Indians were saying and decided that she did. The survival star he’d viewed had been tough and smart.
“We’ve got tents over there,” Jax stated, pointing toward the dense trees. They both watched Kendle flinch as one of the Apache Indians came over to talk to the other females.
“She needs a protector.”
Jax had sensed that when they picked her up. “Zack...?”
“Adrian.”
Jax stared at Marc, marveling at the genius, but worrying over the animosity in the single word.
“Will you try?”
Jax forced it out. “Turn her into someone he’d want?”
Marc looked away. “Into Angie. He won’t settle for anything less.”
“I’m sorry, no,” Jax answered regretfully. “She’s unique.”
“Do the best you can,” Marc conceded. He knew that.
Jax took the request seriously and went to where Kendle was now staring around hopelessly for a place to sleep.
“We have tents over here. Follow me.”
Kendle did, relieved to sense no hostility from Jax. Marc had a woman and these men probably knew her.
“I’ll be your guard while you’re here.”
“I am not a prisoner,” she growled, changing her mind.
“No,” Jax quickly calmed, thinking she at least had Angela’s fire. “To keep you safe. There are a lot males here in case you hadn’t noticed. And you gave a good show to them.”
Kendle shrugged angrily. “I’ll kill.”
Jax didn’t doubt it. “At some point, he’ll probably send you to our main camp, to help there. Do you know about Safe Haven?
Kendle followed him into the large tent, surprised at all the supplies waiting in neat stacks. “I heard the calls when we were in the East.”
“It’s a good place. Not like here.”
Kendle glanced around. “What’s wrong with here?”
Jax didn’t answer that. Instead, he got started fulfilling the Ghost’s need. The more he thought about it, the more he liked Marc’s plan.
“Our leader is Adrian. Marc’s wife is with him, helping run things there.”
Kendle thought that spoke volumes about the type of woman Marc already had. Her shoulders drooped. “I thought it would be something like that.”
“He’s as spoken for as a man can get. Marc doesn’t even use the whores,” Jax stated, grimacing at the thought of Leslie. He still missed her.
“Are you okay?”
“Old ghosts,” Jax answered tiredly. “Anyway, we have rules there and I’d like to give you a start now so that you’ll be able to fit in.”
“Why would you help me?” she demanded suspiciously.
Jax didn’t struggle with a response. “Because it will help a lot of people and bring peace to those who need it the most–including you.”
Kendle couldn’t find any lies in his mind and let it go. “If you think I should, we’ll do that. What else can I do or not do here?”
Jax frowned. “I didn’t ask. I’ll get that information to you shortly.”
Kendle sat down in the chair by the table. She saw his gaze go to the other seat and waved him over. “Talk if you want. I plan to get comfortable and lay down after I sit here and stare for a few minutes.”
Kendle hadn’t had some of these luxuries in much longer than Jax. She’d been on an isolated island where there weren’t any stores to loot or buildings to pick through.
Jax took the seat across from her, smiling. “The most important thing you need to know about Safe Haven, is that you won’t be hurt again. That fear of people will fade in Adrian’s light. He is the Guardian and there’s nothing he won’t do for us.”
9
Marc took his time moving through the dozens of small camps around the one Paul and Jax now had him sequestered in. He needed to talk to these men, to make sure of their hearts, and it would take a while. He didn’t expect to sleep until well after midnight.
Marc sat with them. He smoked and drank lightly, while observing intently. He also healed their wounds where he felt it warranted it. This wasn’t to gain more support or strengthen bonds. He didn’t like their pain, no matter if they deserved the healing or not. And some of these men did not. The stains on their souls were ugly, but Marc didn’t single them out as Adrian might have done. He needed them.
As he traveled from group to group, Marc found himself being gifted with small totems and tokens of faith, support. He took these things with reverence, respecting the legends that had gotten him this far.
When he asked about the things that those at the meeting hadn’t wanted to tell him, Marc got answers from these outer clans. He learned there had been assassination attempts on Jax and that Paul had stopped two of them. Thaddeus had saved him the third time and the warriors were keeping a close watch on the rookie. Paul had become respected well enough that the Indians didn’t fear for his safety. He was viewed much like Marc was.
Marc wasn’t sure why the top men hadn’t wanted him to know about the deaths, fighting, and warriors leaving, but it came to him as he stared at one of the tokens. It was a snow globe, with a Christmas scene in it. The gift implied a childlike innocence and a complete obsession. Marc pieced it together and realized they were afraid he would leave them if he didn’t like what he heard. They didn’t understand that they held the power.
Again, he was forced into accepting that Adrian hadn’t been lying when he said his herd needed him, that it wasn’t all a power trip. These men were the same. He’d brought them together and only he could lead them into battle. It was a fight that each of them longed for, and there was likely little they wouldn’t do to keep him happy and here.
“No worries, my friends,” Marc murmured, moving toward his tent. “I’m in it for the long haul.”
After only weeks, he was a convert. How could Adrian have even thought of giving this up, let alone actually done it? Marc’s respect for the man went up and so did his dislike. It was something he already wasn’t sure how he would do when the time came.
10
Marc found Jax and Kendle sitting on the bank of the nearly dry creek, talking in low tones. He joined them without saying anything. Paul followed a minute later. It was as if Kendle had been with them all along as they sat there, listening to her tell Jax of the battle for the island she’d washed up on.
“Was Luke your man?” Jax asked as she finished with their flight to get home.
“Yes,” Kendle admitted. “Before I was…hurt, he made me his and I wanted that. Now, I doubt I’ll have another true mate.”
Marc held his tongue and stopped Jax when he would have pushed. Healing took time.
“How long have you been…” Paul trailed off as Kendle grimaced in pain.
She took a steadying breath. “After I was taken by Ethan Kraft. He had the rage sickness and he was...obsessed. It broke something inside me.”
The cell door, Marc thought. He said, “Have you explored it, more than what I’ve already noted?”
Kendle’s voice dropped into shame. “I can do a lot.”
Marc carefully put an arm around her shoulders, still feeding the story that she was his woman. “Will you show me some of the things you can do?”
Kendle sighed. “You won’t send me away?”
“Not even if it gets out of control and hurts someone,” Marc promised. “I need to determine our strengths so that I know where you should be for the bigger fights.”
Those words had her mouth opening to spill gifts that Marc thought even Samantha might be jealous of. When he asked her to demonstrate, she did it slowly and stunned them all.
“She controls nature!”
Kendle pushed harder and the small torrents of water reached the edge of the creek bank to lap the stones. She let go with a grunt, leaning against Marc’s arm. It was exhausting.
“Are you still furious?”
“Yes, but not out of control,” Kendle offered.
“Good. You’ll use it to help yourself?”
“Yes.”
Realizing he’d given her a way to remain with them longer, Kendle gave him a quick hug and got to her feet. “I need some energy. I’ll be back.”
Marc thought of his own weariness, but didn’t take care of it yet. No matter how he tried to look at it, it felt like stealing. He needed it offered or he couldn’t accept it. The problem was, none of these men knew it and he wasn’t allowed to tell them, because then it would be asking. It was a puzzle he hadn’t figured out yet.
“I didn’t know women could be like us,” Red Stone stated from behind Marc and his rookies. “I’ve only known males.”
Marc’s response was instant. “Wait until you get a load of Safe Haven’s females. They’re all special.”
Red Stone’s face lit up with a need that Marc was surprised by. Didn’t the man have a wife? ...wives?
“I do not have one who is like me,” Red Stone stated, reading his mind. “That is what we all wish for.”
Marc didn’t argue. He’d found his other half. He could only wish the same on Red Stone.
“Will she last?” Natoli questioned.
Marc looked to where Kendle was now joining the workout of the Choctaw warriors. “Yes. She’ll be alive when the soldiers are dead and gone.”
Natoli didn’t express his doubt. He’d experience the rage sickness, but never someone who could battle it and not spread the contagion. Kendle had marked several of their men with her nails during her lessons, and none of them was ill. In fact, two of those men now claimed that they’d been tested by the woman and given some of her magic. Natoli didn’t tell Marc of the stories going around. It was a worry for another night.
“And tonight’s concern?” Marc asked quietly. “The fighting, the assassins? The lack of sanitization?”
Natoli allowed a small stretch of his lips. “All.”
Marc grunted. “I’ll have plans for you by morning. Keep it cool and calm until then.”
Natoli left satisfied that Marc had been given (or had gone out and discovered) the information he needed to have. Nothing was large yet, but if they let it go, fights and disease could wipe them out long before the soldiers did.
“A show from you would go a long way,” Paul suggested quietly, aware of how attention was staying focused on them. “They’re waiting to see if you’ll be as open as she just was.”
Marc consulted the demon inside. What trick can I perform? What would be most effective?
These are no tricks, the demon scolded. All your lives depend upon this. Play the role by believing in it.
Marc stored the reprimand and repeated the question.
The demon paused, and then stated, Call your guides.
Marc slowly opened the door in his mind, still poised to react like a Marine even mentally. He braced to handle about anything.
“Ooohhhhh!”
The wolf call sent chills into grown men and brought others to their feet. All of them searched the darkness.
Marc concentrated harder, drawing what little energy he had left to toss through the cracked portal. Blinding light flashed in his mind and he sank to his knees in surrender. Whatever he’d called would have to be enough. He had nothing left to give.
“Oohhh!”
Thaddeus and Red Stone began calming the restless fighters, sensing what was coming.
Marc lifted his head to find them all still and waiting. “No shooting. Let…them through.”
Radiomen and signalers relayed the order as Marc let Paul help him to his feet.
“I am the Ghost,” he muttered in weary determination. “These are my brothers in shadows.”
The first wolf to pad into the firelight appeared so much like Dog that Marc thought it was him at first. It allowed him to extend a hand in trust without considering anything else first. The result was that he looked fearless as he caressed the soft fur of a wild wolf.
The next two animals to join their firelight were enormous, with snarling lips and black fur that stood on end. They demanded to know why they’d been called.
“So no one kills you instead of our enemy,” Marc told them. “We are two sides of the same army.”
The wolf that appeared like Dog, but felt different, nudged Marc’s hand so he would resume the rub. “Nature is no longer our enemy. It is theirs!”
The tides were turning against the government, the pieces falling into place for Marc, and his men stared with a devotion that Adrian would have recognized. It was how the Eagles viewed him.
11
Marc paced his tent restlessly. The energy he’d taken was pulsing, lighting up doors, and causing discontent. It wasn’t enough. He craved more and it was a slap in the face to remember the times he’d given energy to Angela, only to discover firsthand how unsatisfied she’d felt afterwards. It wouldn’t let sleep come.
After an hour, he returned to their fire, where half a dozen warriors remained. Around them, other firelights flickered comfortingly.
Marc didn’t talk.
The Choctaw warriors left him to his thoughts. They were honored to be the chosen tribe, to be so close to their savior. Marc and his odd ones didn’t understand the fierce pride it gave these men. On the reservations, only a few dominant clans that agreed to the laws for everyone, but even those had held little power. The Choctaw had been low in the pecking order, but that had changed. There wasn’t anything they wouldn’t do for Marc, to repay him the return of their honor. Their women and children were safe right now. As the chosen tribe, their people were being cared for.
The temperature dropped as they sat around the fire. Fog drifted through the edges of the trees and weeds, creating a thin barrier that slowly obscured the forest around them. It muted sounds and isolated their camp, making it feel as though these seven men were alone with only the fog, the fire and the ghosts.
Just before dawn, the fog thickened, moving though their camps in thick banks of eerie infiltration. Marc was still at the fire with a blanket that Red Stone had draped over him and the mug of now icy coffee still in hand. He hadn’t noticed either action as he delved further into the doors.
Marc was dream walking. Unlike Angela, who feared being able to control her demon when it was away from her, Marc went along for the ride. He chose where they went, who they had contact with…it was a lesson that he’d never imagined possible.
Paul and Jax were woken by Kendle.
Her hard ankle kicks quickly brought them to their feet, where both men took in the fog and her concerned expression with alarm. Something was happening.
They followed her through the damp shadows to the center fire.
Dozens of men tensed, drawing weapons.
“Stand down!” Kendle snapped.
Men did so sheepishly. Spiritually connected or not, the feeling of something coming was thicker than even the fog.
As if waiting for Paul and Jax, Marc began to speak, “They’ve reached the line we set. Fifty men are camped there. Thirty minutes behind them, the main force is now rising. They will arrive as we battle the first and sweep us away like wind.”
Marc slowly pulled out of the trance, tone grim. “We have to take out that first force before they can get one call through.” He stood up. “Wake those you need and get started working on it. That first force will get here fast.”
Paul and Jax stayed with Marc, but Kendle vanished into the fog, mind spinning. There wasn’t enough time or men to dig a pit, and a gas attack would still give them a chance to call for help…
Kendle went toward the edge of their wide perimeter, ignoring the tension of the lookouts and the fighters.
Atolius followed the odd woman silently, nodding to those she passed, those who were also protecting her when she traveled their camp areas. As the Ghost’s woman, she would be cared for if anything happened to him. Since it was clear that she didn’t need caring for now, other than protection from possible assassins, Atolius wasn’t sure why he was with her. Kendle was also odd, like Marc, and that meant her words were as important. She might even be followed if anything happened to Marc, but Atolius wasn’t searching for a bond with a future leader, either. He just felt like he needed to be close.
Kendle didn’t care one way or the other, though she was getting their thoughts easily enough. She was in this for blood and Marc had just asked for a plan to spill a lot of it. She not only wanted to give it to him, she wanted to be in the thick of it.
Kendle waited by the perimeter as the fog slowly began to dissipate. The first area to clear was the small, cool creek that ran the length of their perimeter. It also crossed under 40. If they took out that section of road, the soldiers would be forced to walk across the barely moving creek, where they would be vulnerable from assassins in the tall weeds on either side.
“And I know what we can do, don’t I?” Kendle muttered.
Atolius didn’t doubt it any more than their protection did. The hum of raw power was still vibrating through their minds. He carefully took her arm and headed for Marc.
12
It was taking too long.
They’d already spent two long hours trying to bring the bridge down in a way that made it look natural. They couldn’t use dynamite or anything else that would echo to the enemy. They were forced to use coordinated vehicle and manual labor that caused injuries and made Marc drain himself to heal them. The advantage was in the sounds that this method did create. Collapsing concrete support beams breaking into chunks sounded like normal noises in this new world. Everything was falling apart.
The bridge itself hadn’t come down yet, but there were only two thick beams holding it in place. Gaping cracks and fissures ran through these supports, and the bridge itself from their efforts, telling Marc it wouldn’t take much more.
Marc waved at the team to proceed.
Everyone grunted or groaned, straining on the thick coils of rope. Marc had refused to use their vehicles for this part of it, not about to bury men alive, but he was almost sure it would still leave the ropes to be found.
Crackkk!
The bridge swayed dangerously as the men pulled harder, encouraged by new splits in the beams.
“That’s it! Snap the ropes!” Marc ordered, yanking.
The ropes began untwisting themselves, but not in time. The bridge shattered down the side and collapsed onto the thick beams, bringing it all down in chunks. The ropes were lost.
Dust coated the area and coughing began.
“Covers up!” Marc shouted from under his own wet bandana. “Glasses on!”
13
“Is it set?”
“Yes.”
Marc went to where Kendle was waiting at the edge of their camp. Her growing attachment was a concern for Paul and Jax, but they didn’t understand.
Will Angela? the demon questioned.
Marc wasn’t sure. Considering the link between her and Adrian, maybe she would be glad.
Kendle could feel Marc’s unhappiness, but didn’t know what to do for him. He wasn’t like Luke, wasn’t hot for her. Careful conversations were the best she could do most nights. She’d never met anyone as closed-off as Marc.
“I’m sorry for that,” he stated.
Kendle slid her arm around his waist. “It’s okay. That’s not what we were brought together for.”
Marc wasn’t sure about that and didn’t say anything. He also didn’t pull away from her comfortable embrace. He needed these men to think she was his woman, but more, he needed the human touch. Most of the men riding with him only made contact in a moment of quick courage, like they were brushing the skin of a revered elder. Some days, it sent his ego through the clouds. Other days, it made his stomach boil. Those were the days that he was forced to accept the truth. Adrian’s job was also awful and lonely. It was harder to resent the blond man for desiring the same thing that he was.
“You could call her.”
Marc was used to Kendle’s intuition, but not her compassion. That was an emotion she didn’t display much of.
“No.”
“Why not? The soldiers know where she is, and where you are.”
Marc sighed, telling her the same line he’d used on Jax yesterday. “She’s already a target. If people hear how much I…need her, she’ll never be able to sleep alone or even take a shower in private. I won’t do that to her. She values privacy.”
Kendle thought he was lying, but didn’t call him on it.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” he distracted.
Kendle grimaced. “Wish it was now.”
Marc agreed, only for different reasons. “One more day here.”
Kendle didn’t care about the location, only the goals and the people. “Then tomorrow needs to be bloody. I can’t be stuck inside a base with all these men and not kill anything.”
Marc chuckled, thinking she and Angela would probably have made great friends and teammates if not for him.
“Come on. Let’s get some coffee and go over the layout.”
Kendle went willingly, trying not to feel abandoned when he let go of her. Marc was a fixed point that she kept in her sights as often as she could.
Marc spent the next hour boring her with details instead of giving her the workout she needed. He was on the edge himself and wasn’t sure of his own control. Kendle liked to draw blood and after being careful, he would need a release that wasn’t available until they sprang the trap. Marc wasn’t about to blow early. They’d spent three days planning this last attack. He expected to lose route 40 over the next few days, maybe even tomorrow, but the massive attack come lunch would hopefully slow the troops. Marc needed time to blow bridges and overpasses as they retreated. Little Rock base was where most of the rebels would go next, though some would return to their own camps to protect their people. More would go to Safe Haven to help defend them and get Marc’s other plans rolling. For a few of those, Angela would need all the time he could give her to get them ready.
“Call coming in.”
Marc detoured to their communications bike, to their control man.
“Ghost camp, Alpha. Come in, Alpha.”
“We hear you.”
“Five by nine, out of eight and six.”
The radioman gawked at Marc in confusion as he flipped the dial to channel 43 instead of explaining. “You got me.”
“Got a numbers update for you and some good news,” Quinn’s happy voice bounced off the barren landscape.
Marc clicked the mic and Quinn knew to go ahead.
“We are now eight times what you left behind. I repeat, we are by eight!”
“That’s the good news, right?” Marc joked.
“Actually, no. The good news came from a rider delivering hardware. Safe Haven has company–the good kind.”
Marc felt his worry ease a bit. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, Boss. Instructions or messages?”
There was a hopeful pause on that last part…Marc sensed Angela had told them to find out if he had anything for her.
“No.”
“Copy. Out.”
Marc gave Atolius a nod of respect–it had been his idea–then moved toward his tent. When he held out a hand to Kendle, men approved. They liked Marc and Kendle together. It was a good match to those who were viewing it from the outside.
14
“Shoot him!”
The soldiers fired obediently, missing the cloaked figure leaping across the roofs of homes and businesses, even sheds and barns when he had to.
“Again!”
“Fire!”
The shadow leapt in time to avoid the hit behind him, but the explosion in front sent the Ghost between the brick buildings and out of sight.
“Get him!”
Two forward teams ran in that direction.
The team leaders behind them disapproved of the order. Didn’t command understand that those two teams would return with only half their men and even those would be wounded? The Ghost was lethal.
The soldiers listened for more sounds of fighting as they continued their march to Little Rock AFB. Command wanted it secured in short order and the battalion was almost out of time on their deadline. The Ghost had slowed them down, but now, they were shoving through the last five hundred miles to get inside some sort of protection. Being picked off was bad for morale.
Kablamm!
An explosion lit up the south side of the city, confirming the thoughts of the team leaders. No one from those two platoons would come back. If command kept sacrificing fighters like this, there wouldn’t be many alive when the welcoming air strips came into sight.
“Keep marching!”
The order was met with grumbling, but no real resistance. All of the soldiers wanted to be undercover. Not stopping until they got there now sounded good.
“Ahhh!”
More men fell on their flank, screams echoing up, and terror took over. The front half of the battalion began to run. Behind them, the delay of being attacked with firebombs put another small amount of distance between these two groups.
Marc used it to join them as if he were a part of their group. He got the Shadow Riders into their proper places in the rear of the first platoons, aware of the men who swept their stolen clothes and decided they weren’t a threat.
When Marc opened fire, the other riders did the same.
Before the teams ahead could run and help, Marc and his men were already out of sight. They were alone as they stomped down the stairs and vanished into the sewer.
15
“He’s a Ghost. You can’t kill him.”
The General put his gun to the Indian captive’s temple and pulled the trigger.
The body slumped to the bloody dirt and the General tossed an arm around the Major’s shoulders, hot gun hanging over his cheek in a threat.
“I want him brought in, and I don’t care what you have to do to accomplish that.”
Francis laughed despite the danger he was in. “Do it yourself. The bullet is easier.”
The General grimaced at the refusal.
Francis tensed under him. “Do not underestimate me. We will die together.”
The tension and fighting in command was as bad as it was among the ranks. The General was forced to step back, but he didn’t put the 9mm away.
“If you can’t give me the Ghost, why did Command send you out here?”
Major John Francis had arrived late yesterday and been observing silently. Now, he leered toward the forty new bodies the Ghost had given them. “His woman is capable of doing that without firing a single bullet. I didn’t come for the Ghost. I came for the Raven.”
“I have doubts about us making it to Georgia, Francis. Not without more men.”
The Major sneered, “You would need a miracle, but I don’t mean to go to her. She will come to us.”
“And how will that work?”
Francis gestured to the radio they were keeping on the rebel channels. “We’ve heard her. We have the stories from people who were there. She’ll come for her Ghost.”
“But that leaves the same problem!” the General protested. “We can’t catch him.”
Francis spit towards the General’s freshly shined boots. “You clearly can’t.”
The general saw it coming too late.
“Ugg!”
The knife was calmly retrieved from the dying man’s chest, the gun in the dirt and out of reach.
“No vest,” Francis commented, cleaning his blade on the General’s shocked, paling cheek. “Big mistake. I’ll take it from here. You’re now relieved.”