“How stupid of them. Return to Bridger’s place?” He rubbed at his chin. This didn’t make sense to him. A group capable of breaking into the most secure location on the planet and they run here when they suspect they’re being tracked? “Do we have a layout of the place?”
“County records state there are no structures on the property, sir.”
Nelson shook his head. “We know better, don’t we?” He nodded to the tech. “Lock onto the last known location. Level the goddam place if you have to.”
“Sir, we only have three missiles left.” The tech swallowed hard and stared at the colonel.
“Then I suggest you use them wisely.” Nelson pointed to the screen. “Weapons free.”
Wood County, TX
ROGER PULLED THE tarp back from the entrance and stared into the darkness. It wasn’t much of a hole, but there were two wooden crates inside. He assumed they held either weapons or ammunition or both. “Bless your heart for being so paranoid, Bobby.” He began to work his way into the hole and froze.
One thought raced through his mind. Spiders.
The explosion just to his left had him diving into the hole, spiders be damned. He pulled the tarp over the opening as debris began to rain down on top of the shelter.
“Please, god, don’t let this become a tomb.”
37
South of Dallas, TX
JAY SAT IN the passenger seat while Gregg drove the old Suburban onto the highway. The truck was eerily silent as the group made their way towards the highway.
Deric had turned and took in the damage to his personal survival compound. He made a mental note: Nothing short of a nuclear missile silo could keep out a determined force. He smiled to himself. He happened to know where there was an abandoned silo for sale.
Gregg glanced at Jay. “I’m sure they’re okay.”
Jay barely nodded. “We’ll find out.” He turned and stared out the window as the truck took them home.
He looked to Slippy when the truck slowed and came to a rolling stop. “What?”
Gregg pointed to his left. “Smoke.”
Everybody craned their necks and looked to the northwest. Jay swallowed hard and urged Slippy to keep driving. “Probably some redneck burning trash.”
Gregg nodded. “Yeah. Lots if it.”
Jim stared at the fire and knew. Smoke that black and that thick had to have tires in it. Large tires, like what you’d find on their Humvee. He kept his thoughts to himself as the group continued.
Wood County, TX
ROGER HUNKERED IN the hole and prayed. Each blast was only minutes apart. He could almost imagine the drone strafing the area then circling around to check the damage before firing another shot. He could have sworn he heard the thing make its approach before the final shot.
He heard what sounded like two more fly-bys before the craft left. Was it circling overhead, waiting for him to make his presence known? What was the flight time for these things?
Roger waited and continued to pray. When he felt that enough time had gone by, he slowly pulled the tarp back from the entrance and poked his head out. The place was leveled. The smell of fresh plowed earth, splintered wood and jet fuel could nearly be tasted. He pulled himself from the shelter and stood up. Pieces of the Humvee were still smoldering and what looked like it might have been Bridger’s home was now a twisted metal shell with soil and vegetation scattered inside.
Roger made his way carefully over the rough terrain and stood on the edge of what once was Bridger’s home. He could see what few personal effects the man had scattered about, some still smoldering.
“Fuck me.” He spun a slow circle and stared at the carnage. “These guys ain’t playing.”
Roger stumbled and staggered as he made his way across the ruined property. He had just made his way to where he had left the Humvee when a small fleet of Sheriff’s cruisers slid to a stop behind him.
A tall, muscular man stepped out of the lead car and leveled a pistol at him. “Don’t even think it.”
Roger turned slowly and blinked at the man. He slowly raised his hands. “I-I’m Roger Wallace. FBI.” He swallowed hard and glanced again at the carnage. “I’m Bridger’s friend.”
“Bobby Bridger doesn’t have friends. Oh, it’s you.” Scott Evans approached the man slowly, handcuffs dangling from a free hand. “I don’t know what happened here, but you’re coming with me.”
Roger nodded slowly. “Gladly.”
Dallas, TX
JAY SCANNED THE area with binoculars before Gregg pulled the Suburban to the hangar. The men stepped out and entered their home away from home. Muhammed al-Abadi quietly worked his way to the rear of the hangar and pointed himself to the east, crawling again to his knees in preparation for prayer.
Steve broke out the alkaline cream and squeezed a large handful into his palm. He tossed the tube to Deric, who followed suit.
“Why do I feel like we lost the war?” Steve muttered as he rubbed the cream across his still reddened skin.
“Because we did,” Deric replied. He looked around the room and shook his head. “We lost Bridger and Wallace and gained a Muslim gun runner and a low-level CIA agent.
Chesterfield was pushed unceremoniously into a chair. Jay walked past him and turned on the coffee maker. He caught a blinking light on the corner of his desk. He leaned over and pressed the button.
“Hey guys, it’s Roger.” All heads turned and stared at the answering machine. “I didn’t know your cell numbers so I looked up your business number. I’m, uh…well, I’m at the Wood County Sheriff’s office. Alive and kicking but…I could really use a ride. Give me a call.”
Jay snapped his fingers and pointed to Jim and Gregg. “Go get him.”
Jim squinted at the man. “What did he say?”
Gregg pulled his sleeve. “He says go get sandwiches and you’re buying.”
Jim continued to stare at Gregg as he followed him out to the Suburban. “What? Okay…what?”
Jay fell into his
