Backlash: Prequel to The Wildblood Series (4 page)

Shan caught his gaze,  knowing him well enough to understand what he wasn't saying.

“Fatalities?” Green asked.

“Yes,” Mac was honest with them.  “At least three.  Don't engage,” he repeated.  “Don't follow them into the city.”

“She won't,” Green assured him.

“You're a medic,” Mac knew for a fact.  “How bad?”

“Ribs may be broke, concussion, I need some stitches.”

“There are a couple tanks and some other artillery waiting on the interstate about halfway to Anaconda.  If they go that way.  They won't leave the cover of the city, not during the day.”  Mac wanted a fight but it wasn't happening today.  “We didn't let them go without their own causalities.  Dispatch will be issuing orders soon.  There's another wreck site six or seven miles north.  See if they need anyone transported and get him to the hospital.  I'll be five minutes behind you.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

An hour later, a misty rain had turned to ice and left a sheet across most of western Montana.  It wasn't unusual, it hadn't been even before the war, when the weather was less harsh.

The car fishtailed as Shan pulled around the west side of the hospital, going faster than she should and being escorted by a seasoned Station Two Scout in another vehicle.  He was transporting two casualties.  She was only concerned with Green at the moment.  When he stopped complaining about her driving, twenty miles out, she'd kicked it up a notch or two, not a damned bit worried about the other Scout's opinion of her driving.

Jumping a curb and narrowly missing the concrete wall separating lot from river, she put the car in reverse and parked it as well as was going to happen.  Shan dragged Green out of the seat, waving for an attendant.  The emergency entrance was already crowded and several people came out in the rain to help.

“We've got him,” one of the men she recognized as Dr. Roberts told her.  “What happened?”

“He rolled his car.”  Shan couldn't think of a descriptive way of putting it.  They were civilians.

“How many times?”  Roberts went on, guiding them into the lobby and looking for an open room.

“One and a half.  He said he has a concussion and broken ribs.”

Roberts nodded.  Shan hadn't realized just how much carnage had happened until she saw the corridor lined with injured officers.  “How long has he been unconscious?”

“Fifteen minutes,” she said, stopping outside the double doors that led to the interior of the hospital.  There was no reason for her to go in, not with so many in need of attention.  It was a fear from her childhood.  She'd been there with her mother and in many instances, all Deirdre could do was  make them comfortable and wait.

“I'll let you know his condition when I can,” Roberts called out, disappearing behind those doors.

“Are you hurt?” Deirdre asked, emerging from one of the curtained-off rooms.  She looked exhausted and it took a real effort not to grab her daughter.

“No,” Shan answered automatically, going defensive when she knew she was going to have to lie to her.  “Lt. Green.”

“From the Ranchlands?”

Shan nodded, seeing there was blood all over her parka.  “It's not mine.”

“Was he shot?”

“No, no, a car wreck.”

Deirdre wasn't convinced entirely.  “We've had half a dozen gunshot wounds in the past hour.  Central Dispatch told us to expect that many more before the night is over.  Are we under attack?”

“No,” Shan repeated.  “I can't tell you anything.  Just don't worry.”

Waving her arm around to indicate all the bloody and wounded, Deirdre said “Don't worry, Shannon?  You know we have deceased officers back there?”

“I know.”  Her voice was hollow, stifling any emotion that might burst out.  “I have to go.  It's not in The Vista, mom, we wouldn't let it get here.”

Feedback from multiple radios interrupted any further conversations in the ER.  The announcement echoed eerily.  “Central Dispatch, all Stations, all Security Teams.  Alert Four conditions are still in effect.  All teams are to remain in assigned safety areas.  Teams en route are to return to safety areas immediately.”

“Damnit,” Shan swore.  They were all stuck at the hospital until further notice.

“Go to the lab.  We need blood donors and you're O-positive.”  Deirdre had to get back to work as the Scout following Shan arrived with two more injured.  The Vista had a handful of genuine pre-war doctors and a growing number of those trained as well as they could be.  Deirdre was the former.

She'd just moved to the hallway, relieved of a pint of blood, when Mac tracked her down.  “Interested in a closed meeting with Security Command?” he asked, a wicked gleam in his eye.  Not the wicked kind she liked to tease him in to on the nights they shared off-duty, the kind of wicked that meant he was looking for payback.

“No,” she stated, meaning it.  The single time she accompanied Wade, it had left her with the distinct sensation that Command had a great many things they didn't tell civilians and probably most of Security.  She didn't like secrets.

“I don't think it's an actual question.  It's a request.”

“Wade?”

“No.  Not something to discuss here,” he pointed out.

That got her curiosity, and she'd always been more curious than afraid.  “City Hall?”

He nodded.  “I'll drive.”

She snorted, “You bet you will.  I saw the storm moving in.”

“You just gave blood.”

“And?”

“It makes you light-headed.  You crash into a tree, your father kills me later for letting you drive and therefore, crash.”

“It's never bothered me before.”  She stood, shrugging, picking up her gear.  “See?”  They headed out, taking a side door. 

“Sign a release form stating that,” Mac challenged.  He smiled and she let go of some of the tension that had been building for hours.

 “Get in the car.”

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Security has permission to do whatever they have to do to find out where the Nomads are based and clear them out,” Duncan told the group of officers gathered at Station Two.  “We got the order a few days ago, but with the events of last night, we're pushing things ahead.  Station One, Capt. Wade, has picked teams to join them at Depot South and start runs tomorrow to determine the number of intruders we're up against.  Station Two is covering the inner perimeter; Station Three is running backup for anyone that needs it.”

“How is this different than what we do every day?”  Ballentyne asked.

“We aren't inclined to be taking refugees or prisoners from this event.  It's clearly organized and aimed at us.  By 'we', I mean Command.  Team Three will be leaving immediately, followed up by other teams as assigned.”

“Why Team Three?” Lambert whispered to Taylor.

“Why do you think?” he said.  “Shannon believes it's a secret, Mac too.  Wade won't talk about it, but it doesn't take something special to understand what he's not saying.  Command knows.”  Taylor wouldn't say 'Gen En' outside the confines of a specific group.  Lambert didn't need a translator.

“We need to get this under control before we start counting civilian causalities,” Duncan continued.  “None of you are being ordered to Dillon.  It's a strictly volunteer assignment.”

“How long does Command plan on keeping these orders in effect?” Ballentyne asked.

“If we have to continue the search patterns on snowmobiles, we will.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Sept 25, Dillon

The wind started up from the south and Wade stopped, listening.

Force-of-habit, Shan stopped with him, dropping her left hand to her side and unsnapping the leather safety strap from her Sig.  She'd been his bodyguard before he recruited Taylor.  “What is it?” 

“If I knew for certain, it wouldn't bother me so much.”

She rephrased the question.  “Is it something I might have to kill?”

“Is that what you're worried about?”  Wade shifted his attention to her, scrutinizing carefully, intensely, in a glance.

“I am.  I don't think . . .  I won't flinch, I won't freeze, but later.  What happens later?”

“You'll deal with it.  What did Mac tell you?”

They stood at the edge of the depot property, following a stone wall that ran the length of a long driveway.  It had been part of a resort, once upon a time.  Rebuilt and reinforced, it was Security's southernmost base.

Shan grimaced, wrinkling her nose and shrugging it off.   “He said I'd deal with it.”

“We all will.  If and when.”

“You and I both know it'll be 'when'.”

“How long have you known that?”

“Since the first time you had to.”

Fresh out of training four years ago at a place they called The Junction, barely twenty miles from The Vista.  An active gateway city, Security had problems there yearly.  Wade nodded.  “Sometimes it's absolutely unavoidable.”

Their radios beeped in tandem.  “Oh, hell, here we go again,” she said, heading back to the depot, glad for a few words with him.

Wade agreed.  “It's a code call.”  They trudged back up the hill, mud  and cold slowing them down, the urgency of intruders making their adrenalin run.

“Team Sixteen just got ambushed at Divide,” Lambert caught them in the foyer before they could shed their parkas.  “Mac's already en route, he's got Jasso with him.”

“Get a car, and go,” Wade told Shan.  “Lambert, you're with her.  We're going to go have a look.  See what we can see.”

“By 'see', he means ghosts?” Lambert wanted to verify, thirty miles later.

She nodded.  “That's exactly what he meant.  In the middle of a Code Call.”

“Is that a good idea?”

“It's Wade's idea.  Good or bad, we're doing it.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Bracing her head on her hand, Shan leaned on the roof of the car and closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face.  Wade was pacing and Mac was having a thermos of tea, sitting in the passenger's seat.  Lambert, Taylor, Green and Ballentyne were there, the only other officers not sent back to the depot.  Team Sixteen had received minor injuries and were already home.  They were all parked a mile north of the scene, waiting.

“Can I talk?” Taylor asked her.

She nodded.  “Just not to Wade.  He's looking.”

“Yeah, trying to see ghosts again.  What if Team Three didn't have the Gen En and we had to figure this out anyway?”

“We'd wait at Dillon until it snowed and then use it to track them.”  She'd heard the discussion once already that morning.  The weather forecast - mostly calculated guessing - was indicating snow in a handful of days.

“That could work,” Taylor gave her.  “But it might take all winter and we can't sit in a blackout all winter.  Four days is already grating on nerves.”  His included.

And Mac's.  “Aren't you supposed to be watching Wade?”  He came around the car to stand with Shan, ushering Team Two over.  Lambert was lookout.

Anything inappropriate he was thinking, Taylor wisely kept to himself.  “Got it,” he said, going off to shadow Wade.

“Out of curiosity,” Ballentyne asked, indicating Taylor.  “What happened to get Wade to have someone follow him around like this?  It's not his style, not in his personality.”

“About a year ago, Wade was in Council when there was a code call, and he knew it before it went on the air,” Mac detailed the story.  “It was a public meeting, a hundred people were there.  He faked being sick to get out of chambers, but it was a damned close call.  Now Taylor is his second, his right hand, to make sure little slip ups like that don't happen.”

“Does anyone follow you around?  Or her?” Green was curious.

“No need to follow me.  Shan, she doesn't like the idea and Wade does.”

“That's why Wade wants us around,” Green figured.

Mac nodded, “Exactly.  Just in case and because he'll win that argument, eventually.”

“Just in case,” she agreed absently, wandering around the car, making an attempt to change her perception, to make it move sideways rather than forward.  “Nightmares are just nightmares until Missouri Breaks gets nuked and we all watch the sky burn.”

Mac let her wander and they followed his lead.  After a couple minutes she stopped and stared north, shook her head and started pacing again.  “Ask her what she sees,” he whispered to Green.

“What's out there?” Green tried the casual approach.

She didn't hear him or was ignoring them.  A hundred yards down the interstate, Wade and Taylor were discussing what Command would be telling Council within the hour.  Shan could hear that, she could see them talking about it like she was standing right there.

“Shannon, can you see Team Sixteen?” Green asked.

“I can,” she murmured.  The men merely exchanged looks.

“The hell of it is,” Wade was telling Taylor, “Council won't recognize this as a problem until they can see it from The Vista.  It's just an 'incident', body count or not.”

Shan felt as if time stuttered around her.  She tried to move, to look up, feeling the air itself pulsing as something massive blocked out the sun.  

Ghosts, Wade knew but it was too late to tell them.  He was watching the road and it was before Team Sixteen left the depot.  The roar of it was deafening; he could hear it because she could.  He could see it on his own.

“Don't touch her,” Mac warned, seeing her gaze go fixed on things that weren't there now.  Taylor was waving at them frantically. “They've never done it at the same time," he exhaled sharply, alarmed as the situation spiraled completely out of control in that moment.

“What do we do if the Nomads show up?” Green asked.

“You're in charge of getting her out,” Mac decided, pointing at Shannon.  She was staring off towards the east, oblivious to them.  “They can go defensive when they're like that and you interrupt it.  Be warned.”  He ran down the road to have words with Taylor.

“Have they done this before?” he asked.  “Because I've never seen it or heard about it.”

“No,” Mac shook his head.  “Not unless they decided not to tell us.”  It was entirely possible. 

Part of their carefully thought out plans for Security included the idea that no one knew everything.  That included all members of Team Three.  “If we get company of any kind, you do whatever it is you do to snap him out of that.”