They drove with their lights off.
“Should we stop in the store again to get more food for these guys?” he asked Trish, who continued to be his co-pilot.
She tugged at her short blonde hair, working out knots. “I wouldn’t mind stopping to see if they have a brush and a basic makeup kit. I know we’re on a mission, and don’t think this is because I’m a woman, but dunking my head under the faucet isn’t working for me. My hair is a greasy, itchy, annoying mess.” She pulled a tangled strand, sounding frustrated. “I don’t need the whole caboodle, but a few face and hair products would help, for sure.”
The young woman put her feet up on the dashboard and pointed to her boots. “And I desperately need a pedicure.”
He cast a sideways glance. “I know some of that isn’t true.”
She laughed. “I’m half-kidding. To answer your question, though, it can’t hurt to stop. We’re only a few hours from Colorado Springs. Then things will be too serious to fool around with stores, even for needy women like me.”
“Right you are,” he chuckled.
A few minutes later, he pulled his small convoy into the parking lot of the store. It wasn’t only due to Trish’s suggestion, but it had been several days since he’d tasted a good cup of coffee. A little caffeine would help wake him up and keep him sharp.
As he got out, he looked around for threats. The store appeared empty, but he caught sight of a twinkling light far down the highway.
He ran to all four police model Chevy Tahoes behind him. “Stay in your vehicles. Engines off. Feet off the brake pedals. Hide!”
By the time he’d gotten back to his own truck, he was out of breath. Trish crouched next to her seat, pistol at the ready. On a whim, he opened the back door and grabbed both of their shotguns. “We might need these.”
They sat there for a full minute as the lights approached. To any onlooker, their trucks would blend in with the abandoned vehicles common on the roads and parking lots. “There’s a whole bunch of them,” he said quietly.
“You think they’re friendlies?” she asked doubtfully.
“I think we’ll stay right here to make sure.”
“Agreed.” He checked his mirror, trying to remember which truck Long was in. It bothered him to think about it, but the new guy was the only person he could envision jumping out of his safe spot to go running to the new people. He tried to think back to their morning routines. Was he aware of this approaching convoy? Was Long trying to make them go faster, or slower, to meet it? Nothing pointed to an obvious effort on the man’s part. He chalked it off to paranoia.
The convoy was led by a military police car. It was painted olive drab, and the model was from the previous decade, at least. The red-and-blue lights were off, but there was enough morning light to see the Mexican flag painted on the door.
“What the eff?” he blurted. “Is this the Mexican army?”
The next several vehicles were large armored cars. They were painted the same drab color and flew the same flag. However, after six or seven of them passed, a new color scheme appeared on a different style of armored truck. They had six wheels, instead of four. The flag changed, too, though Brent didn’t recognize it.
Trish scooted up in her seat. “Is that good or bad?”
He continued to watch the military rigs fly along the highway. By his estimation, there were at least a hundred vehicles on the roll, with a dozen different flags painted on them. At long last he saw the end, but he couldn’t come up with a proper answer for her.
“I honestly have no idea.”
CHAPTER 17
Fort Collins, CO
After all his efforts at reducing their infrared signature, Ted still had no idea if the drones up in the sky were even searching for IR targets, though he still assumed they were. Like everything else with the invading army, they seemed to steal American technology and put it to their own purposes. For some things, their purpose was obvious, such as the airports. For others, however, like high-tech weapons systems, they might not have the manpower or technical skills to properly operate them. He’d seen that with their lax security and failed programmers in their critical server farm back in Minot.
Sometimes, all he had was his gut.
They’d gathered their weapons and gear in the SUV. He sat inside the cab with her, but left his door ajar so he could get out and lift the garage door. Before going further, however, he needed a few moments to think.
“What’s on your mind, friend?” Emily said with a pleasant tone.
“We haven’t seen or heard the drones for thirty minutes. I think it’s time to go, but I don’t like to stake our entire mission on a gamble.”
“But we can’t stay,” she reminded him.
“Yep. This is a classic cost-benefit scenario.”
“Don’t overthink it. Your instincts have been spot-on for as long as I’ve known you. Hell, you were amazing stopping my would-be assassin on Air Force Two. Talk about the right time, right place.”
He had to laugh. “I never told you how that happened, did I?”
She sat up. “Tough grit and a keen eye?”
Ted shook his head. “I was checking you out. You were wearing your thin business skirt and I accidentally found myself admiring your figure. I was respectful about it, but I can’t tell a lie. That’s what I was doing. Then Jeffries pulled his gun…”
Emily thought about it for a few seconds. “I guess I should be thankful I didn’t choose that day to wear clothes as unflattering as this ensemble.” She swooshed her hands over her baggy, black pants.
“Saved by the skirt,” he mused.
“We’ll talk about what’s appropriate in our next staff meeting. For now, go with that same gut. I can’t ask
