find them with the drones, if he could get another officer to sign off on their launch. They had been ordered not to fly them at night, but Captain Eddie, knowing his friend Markus was dead, needed to find these people before they escaped.
He sought out one of the officers he’d had a good conversation with earlier and convinced him it would be wise to know what they might be facing in the morning. The other officer agreed and signed off, just once, for that specific intent. Eddie said he’d get back to him with what he found and went to the tower to watch the drone search. Focusing only east of the base, the drones found several dozen civilians either hiding out or attempting to accumulate supplies across the city. His soldiers sought them out, killed them, and brought their bodies back to the base along with their own three fallen men. As Eddie checked each of the bodies, he couldn’t help but notice two of his men, including Markus, had been taken out from the back, center mass, in the same spot on the spine. They never had a chance.
He said a silent prayer for his friend as he scanned the civilian bodies. Only a few had even been armed, and clearly none of them were professionals. Whoever had taken out his good friend, and his other men, had done so with a precision beyond the capability of these dead Americans. It was likely they were still out there. And now they had his attention.
He stood up to walk away from the jeep and stopped when he saw the other jeep his men had brought back. Eddie swung open the door. The radio and THIRST tracker were gone, but with the system ID he could trace its location. He ran back to the other jeep, looked up the ID, and used the touchscreen to plug in the number for the missing THIRST system. Its location began flashing on his screen: two miles northwest of the base. The signal wasn’t moving. He scrambled his men together, and they took off. He had them.
--------------------
Danny led us down Twenty-Third Avenue, weaving through the cluttered mess of crashed cars, to Highway 18. We then jumped north a few miles to 33 rd Avenue before cutting west again toward the town of Devil’s Lake. In case the radio and THIRST system contained a tracking chip, Cameron had disassembled the equipment and ditched it along the dirt roads, a few miles northwest of the Air Force base. It took slightly more than two hours to get to Devil’s Lake, and it was starting to get light. We found a makeshift rest stop in a game preserve fifteen miles south of town. Already deep into autumn, most leaves had fallen from the trees, and little natural coverage remained to conceal the vehicles. Danny and Cameron managed to find enough thick brush to mix with the camouflage hunting tarps to temporarily do the trick. They caked the hoods of the trucks with cool mud to further dim the engine heat. We were several miles from the main road and hoped that would be enough to keep us safe until nightfall allowed us to move again.
A great deal of that depended on what the man, watching us from the other side of the lake, decided to do.
ELEVEN: “Go Wes”
Wes had lived in Bismarck, North Dakota most of his life. He and his two sons were avid duck hunters, and their favorite place to hunt was at their custom-built lodge just outside the Devil’s Lake Nature Preserve. Okay, so Wes and Sam were the avid hunters. Isaac more enjoyed the distance from Bismarck’s big city noise and traffic. Isaac didn’t like to get his hands dirty. Sam was willing to jump into pretty much anything, and he’d helped Wes build the hunting lodge from scratch. They’d been at the lodge the entire week, completely unaware of the attacks. They had seen a few strange military-like planes pass over Devil’s Lake, but nothing had come south of town.
Yesterday morning Sam had brought a cup of coffee out to his dad and remarked that he hadn’t seen anyone passing by in days. The longer Wes thought about it, the more that
He sought out one of the officers he’d had a good conversation with earlier and convinced him it would be wise to know what they might be facing in the morning. The other officer agreed and signed off, just once, for that specific intent. Eddie said he’d get back to him with what he found and went to the tower to watch the drone search. Focusing only east of the base, the drones found several dozen civilians either hiding out or attempting to accumulate supplies across the city. His soldiers sought them out, killed them, and brought their bodies back to the base along with their own three fallen men. As Eddie checked each of the bodies, he couldn’t help but notice two of his men, including Markus, had been taken out from the back, center mass, in the same spot on the spine. They never had a chance.
He said a silent prayer for his friend as he scanned the civilian bodies. Only a few had even been armed, and clearly none of them were professionals. Whoever had taken out his good friend, and his other men, had done so with a precision beyond the capability of these dead Americans. It was likely they were still out there. And now they had his attention.
He stood up to walk away from the jeep and stopped when he saw the other jeep his men had brought back. Eddie swung open the door. The radio and THIRST tracker were gone, but with the system ID he could trace its location. He ran back to the other jeep, looked up the ID, and used the touchscreen to plug in the number for the missing THIRST system. Its location began flashing on his screen: two miles northwest of the base. The signal wasn’t moving. He scrambled his men together, and they took off. He had them.
--------------------
Danny led us down Twenty-Third Avenue, weaving through the cluttered mess of crashed cars, to Highway 18. We then jumped north a few miles to 33 rd Avenue before cutting west again toward the town of Devil’s Lake. In case the radio and THIRST system contained a tracking chip, Cameron had disassembled the equipment and ditched it along the dirt roads, a few miles northwest of the Air Force base. It took slightly more than two hours to get to Devil’s Lake, and it was starting to get light. We found a makeshift rest stop in a game preserve fifteen miles south of town. Already deep into autumn, most leaves had fallen from the trees, and little natural coverage remained to conceal the vehicles. Danny and Cameron managed to find enough thick brush to mix with the camouflage hunting tarps to temporarily do the trick. They caked the hoods of the trucks with cool mud to further dim the engine heat. We were several miles from the main road and hoped that would be enough to keep us safe until nightfall allowed us to move again.
A great deal of that depended on what the man, watching us from the other side of the lake, decided to do.
ELEVEN: “Go Wes”
Wes had lived in Bismarck, North Dakota most of his life. He and his two sons were avid duck hunters, and their favorite place to hunt was at their custom-built lodge just outside the Devil’s Lake Nature Preserve. Okay, so Wes and Sam were the avid hunters. Isaac more enjoyed the distance from Bismarck’s big city noise and traffic. Isaac didn’t like to get his hands dirty. Sam was willing to jump into pretty much anything, and he’d helped Wes build the hunting lodge from scratch. They’d been at the lodge the entire week, completely unaware of the attacks. They had seen a few strange military-like planes pass over Devil’s Lake, but nothing had come south of town.
Yesterday morning Sam had brought a cup of coffee out to his dad and remarked that he hadn’t seen anyone passing by in days. The longer Wes thought about it, the more that
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