Vin framed the issue in these terms: they did not understand how much of Colorado Springs was under military control. If one assumed the military only had control over Peterson AFB, there still was a lot of Colorado Springs to push through to get there. And the roads might be clogged such that they’d have to go on foot through the city. To do that without each adult having at least one shotgun would take on a lot of risk. Vin argued the risk in going to Bullhead City (from where there was a road that connected to Colorado Springs) was small by comparison, especially since the road from Bullhead City led right to the Peterson AFB area. And Bullhead City had a lot of stores that carried firearms. It was a persuasive argument, and they all agreed to press onward to Bullhead City.
About thirty miles after the crossroads in Henefer, the open terrain, throughout which they had not spotted a single draugar or normal, gave way to a twisty road through the mountains. This time, Vin drove with Alexander in the front passenger seat. Jocelyn, Janice and Emily occupied the middle row. Marty sat in the back.
Just over the pass, they turned a corner and faced a roadblock—two late-model Camrys and two Colfax County Sheriff patrol cars (Subaru Outbacks). Each car had crude swastikas painted on its side. Behind the cars stood four bald men, all wielding what looked to Jocelyn like assault rifles.
Vin slammed on the brakes and stopped the van, and Jocelyn’s seatbelt locked. The group ahead didn’t fire on them, but they didn’t lower their weapons either. Clearly, the people ahead of them had the advantage of cover from the cars, and anyone who left their van would be sitting ducks as at least one person had a line of sight on all but the rear of the van.
“Those ain’t sheriff deputies,” Marty said. “I know all the Colfax County deputies, and these assholes ain’t them.”
There were steep hills on both sides of the road. Driving off the road was not an option. Vin turned around, and no one argued. They rounded the bend only to find the road now covered with two more cars and two bald shooters. The roadblocks were cleverly placed, so that there were only the steep hills on both sides of the road.
Jocelyn briefly wondered where the cars for the rear roadblock had come from, but then she saw the gap in the hills just beyond. They must have been hiding behind a hill and came out from there.
They were trapped.
Vin stopped short of the rear guard in the center of the road.
“Maybe they are the new law enforcement,” Alexander said. “Maybe they have a safe place waiting for us all.”
Marty grunted. “I doubt that. Did you see they’re all bald? Do you see the swastikas? Bullhead City is known as the ‘Prison Capital of the World.’ I’ve seen their kind before. They’re a neo-Nazi gang from the prisons . . . Anyone believe we can roll down the windows and defend with our guns?”
“Too risky,” Alexander said. “We’re better off surrendering. The chances they’d kill us would be lower.”
There were a few seconds of silence.
“I’ll take care of this,” Jocelyn declared. Her weapons were stowed beneath the bench seat, and she retrieved her handgun and shotgun, leaving her sword in its holster.
“Hold on a minute,” Alexander said. “What do you plan to do?”
“Surprise them.”
“You may have survived a bunch of bullets before, but have you been hit in the brain?”
“No.” There was no sense lying—Marty, at least, knew the full truth.
But Jocelyn had made her bargain.
“If we surrender, are we going to make it to Colorado Springs?” Jocelyn asked rhetorically. “Anyone?”
Silence.
“Because even if they let us live, they’ll take our weapons for sure. And the van.” There were a few more seconds of silence as no one answered. “Right,” she said. Holding the handgun with her finger on the trigger, she opened the sliding door of the van with the hand carrying the shotgun and jumped out. Before she could get either gun at the ready, a spray of bullets fired down on her, and one hit in the upper shoulder.
Sonofabitch. Despite her healing abilities, she was reminded that she could still experience excruciating pain before the healing kicked in. The momentum of the bullet caused her to tumble, her guns spilling out of her hands and onto the asphalt, her handgun closer to her than her shotgun.
More gunfire as she crawled over to her handgun and picked it up. The pain subsided as she made her way to the front right corner of the van, sprawled out on the ground, gun pointed at the head of one man behind the cars. She fired but missed, hitting the side of the car. Gunfire all around her as she fired again, this time missing too high. She fired a third time, but she hit the car again.
Not close enough to hit accurately, she started to crawl toward the roadblock, the rapid-fire of the two men discouraging her from standing up. But she was just too slow, and once a bullet hit her collarbone, she realized she would have to brute-force this and withstand the pain.
She stood up to advance, bullets whizzing past her until one struck her in the other shoulder, buckling her but this time she held onto the handgun. She fired and dropped one of the two men.
It didn’t matter.
Before she aim her gun again, she felt the impact of another bullet, this time in her skull, followed by oblivion.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Day Nine
A spray of bullets hit the front of the van. Alexander ducked and slid off the front passenger seat and into the seat well. Vin, slumped in his chair, placed his hand over his stomach, blood running out from between his fingers, rivulets cascading down into
