Taken anw-4 Read online

  I grab the mic from Kathy’s hand. “Gonzalez, base here, respond!” I say hoping for a reply. Nothing but continued silence.

  I drop the microphone on the desk and turning, I yell across the interior, “Lynn!”

  Adrenaline, fear, and worry course through me along with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. My immediate thought is they’ve run afoul of whatever red truck Gonzalez reported. A dozen thoughts of who, what, and where race through my mind but the most immediate is to get everyone mobilized and for me to get in the air. I start running for the front door and see Lynn pounding down the escalator stairs. I slow to a brisk walk as she joins me.

  “Something’s happened to Gonzalez and the kids. Mobilize the teams and get them into Humvees. Start southbound on the Interstate and I’ll contact you. The last transmission from Gonzalez said a red truck was following them. I’m getting airborne,” I say walking briskly to the doors.

  “”What happened? Where were they?” She asks in rapid fire succession.

  “I don’t know. The transmission went dead in the middle of their report. I don’t know exactly where they are or were but I’ll follow the route they should have taken. Just be on the lookout for either the Humvee or a red truck,” I say reaching the front doors.

  “Will do, Jack. We’ll be on the road soon,” she says turning back to the interior.

  “All teams, on me, ASAP!” Lynn shouts across the interior.

  I do a quick check on my weapons and gear reassuring myself that all is in order and I have enough ammo should I need it. I wouldn’t want to locate the kids only to find I wasn’t able to help them because of my rush. Exiting into the shade of the drive-thru overhang, I spot Greg sitting on the curb apparently enjoying the feel of the sun bathing him.

  “Greg, grab your gear, you’re with me. And hurry. I’ll explain when you get back. Meet me at the helicopter,” I say and head across the parking lot towards the Kiowa parked on the far side away from the other vehicles.

  Lynn shouts across the lot for everyone to gather. I turn and see Greg looking my direction with a questioning look. I shake my head to indicate he’s to ignore Lynn’s request and follow me. Greg turns, exchanges a word or two with Lynn, and runs into the building. I run over to the helicopter, jump in, and begin the start sequence. Time is of the essence. If they’ve been taken, every minute means another mile or close to it in some direction. It will take time to trace their route in order to locate either them or at least find a starting point. And, if I choose the wrong direction, then that’s a lesser chance of locating them again.

  The rotors begin spinning overhead as Greg runs out of the building and jumps in. He dons the spare helmet and I brief him as the rotors come up to speed. Lifting off into the clear morning air, I swing to the south to pick up the Interstate. Tense and anxious, I gain altitude in order to get a longer range of view. I need to find them or catch sight of the red truck soon or this will turn into an area search ordeal with each moment’s passing making the odds of locating them less and less.

  I hook up with I-5 to my left and make contact with the base to establish communication. The gray road stretches north and south and is empty of movement. I search for movement and look for the Humvee parked to the side of the highway. Nothing moves except an occasional flash of white from gulls circling in random patterns closer to the bay. I know where the kids were headed so I fly up the Interstate to the exit Robert should have taken to the beach. Very small wisps of brown smoke drift lazily upward from a couple of points indicating some of our area burns are still warm.

  The glittering waters of the bay past the outer vestiges of downtown Olympia filter in through the windscreen. The crisscross pattern of streets is empty of movement and mostly empty of vehicles. Some cars are parked in spots on the main thoroughfares but the ghost town atmosphere prevails. I dip the nose forward picking up airspeed as the helicopter responds to my anxiousness to find my kids. A road parallels the bay into Olympia from Puget Sound to the north. I pick up this road after downtown Olympia slides by to my left.

  The foundations of burnt houses appear on the left side of the road with a large embankment on the immediate right. No indications of the Humvee or a red truck appear as I slow and we proceed up the road. There is a chance they took a side road after seeing the truck so I’ll check on the roads on top of the cliff after I reach the park where they were heading.

  “Where the fuck are they?” I ask in a whisper; more talking to myself than conveying a message.

  “Don’t worry, Jack, we’ll find them,” Greg responds hearing my whisper.

  “There,” he says pointing.

  Ahead, just around a corner of the road, I see a Humvee lying on its side in the ditch. I descend and come to a hover over the vehicle. Nothing is moving on the ground or inside. The front and passenger doors are open on the driver’s side, pointing upward. The vibrations of the helicopter, the rotors turning overhead in a blur, and the wrecked Humvee below us are the only company.

  “Is that a red truck cresting that hill?” Greg asks pointing to his left.

  I swing the nose around to get a better look. Sure enough, I see the back end of a truck disappear over a hill in the distance across the bay. It’s driving on one of the main roads toward the south end of town. I have a dilemma; check out the Humvee or follow the vehicle. The kids and Gonzalez may still be in the Humvee hurt and needing assistance or they may be with the truck. I look in our immediate area for place to land but see I can’t quite plant it without our rotor hitting some of the burnt structures still jutting into the air. I should be able to find the truck again if we’re quick, especially from altitude. If I’m careful, I can get within a couple feet of the ground without hitting anything.

  “Greg, I’m going to get close but you’ll have to jump down and check on the Humvee,” I say looking for the best spot.

  “Sure, no problem, Jack,” Greg replies.

  I edge down the road a touch and find a spot close to the water where I can edge down. I have to keep over the water’s edge and bring the strut close to the small embankment rising from the inlet. The tide is in so I can’t put it down on exposed land. Greg opens the door and a wash of air rushes inside along with an increase in sound from the rotors slicing through the air. He removes his helmet and, grabbing his M-4, steps out onto the strut. Leaping the two feet separating the strut from land, he lands in a crouch, rises, and rushes over to the Humvee.

  I angle away from the shore and watch as he reaches the Humvee. He runs around to the front to peer in then climbs onto the vehicle and looks in the open doors. Looking over to me, he shakes his head and jumps down. As Greg trots back, I edge over to the embankment once again. I feel the helicopter list as he clambers onto the strut and I try to counteract the increase in weight on that side. I’m not familiar with that aspect of flying rotors as of yet so Greg hangs on for dear life as we jostle around and move out over the water. I’m finally able to get some semblance of control and he climbs back in the cockpit.

  “Well, that was interesting,” he says settling in and donning his helmet.

  “Yeah, sorry,” I reply.

  “No worries. I was just wondering if I was going to take a leisurely morning swim.” I chuckle but my anxiousness cuts that short. We turn and head south gaining altitude.

  “Base, Jack here, over,” I say into the radio wanting to know where the hell Lynn and the rest of the teams are. There’s not much I can do in the helicopter even should we find the red truck again.

  “Base here, go ahead Jack,” I hear Kathy respond.

  “Where’s Lynn?” I ask.

  “They’re all gathering in the parking lot now, Jack, and should be on their way shortly,” she answers.

  “Okay, we’ve found the Humvee and no one is present. We spotted the red truck heading south through town and we are on our way to locate it once again,” I say, also giving the coordinates of the Humvee.

  “Roger, Jack, I’ll relay that to her.�
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  “Thanks, out,” I say as the bay slides underneath us.

  Gaining altitude, we head south down the main road where Greg spotted the truck disappearing. I don’t see anything and it underlies the feeling of loneliness the empty town gives off. I look down the side streets and mostly vacant parking lots as we accelerate. If they are speeding away, and they are easily able to so with the empty roads, they could be quite a distance ahead of us so I need to get a closure rate going just in case. It will give us less time to look in the immediate area but my thought is that we can search the area if we don’t find them on the road. At least we will have narrowed it down some if I don’t spot them.

  Leaving the town behind, we manage to locate the red truck ahead of us as it leaves the road, turning onto highway 101. I drop down behind the trees and activate the overhead camera system. The camera is located in the housing above the rotors so we can remain invisible while still surveying the area. The truck is heading west to where the highway splits, either heading west to the coast or north up the Kitsap Peninsula, which, by the way, is the way towards my old house.

  I hop from tree line to tree line keeping the truck in view. Magnifying the view, I see a couple of people riding in the bed of the truck but I don’t see any sign of Gonzalez or the kids. As we continue to follow at a distance, I see them take the exit heading north.

  “What’s the plan?” Greg asks.

  “I think for now we’ll just tail them until the teams arrive. I’m not sure what their response will be if they see us, especially if they have Gonzalez and the kids. And, there’s really not much we can do while they’re moving. We’ll determine their destination and go from there,” I answer and see him nod his reply.

  “You know, we could pull ahead of them and take out their radiator and tires as they approach. Just a suggestion,” Greg comments.

  “Yeah, I thought of that but we don’t know how many of them there are nor what will happen to Gonzalez and the kids if that happens. There are too many variables right now. The truck could even flip,” I reply.

  “Jack, this is Lynn over,” I hear coming over the radio.

  “Yeah, Lynn, this is Jack, go ahead,” I respond.

  “We’re outbound with five teams. I left Alpha, Bravo, and Green behind with Drescoll in charge. What’s the situation?” Lynn asks.

  “We found the Humvee. Did Kathy give you those coordinates?” I say in way of answering.

  “Yes, Jack, I have ‘em.”

  “Okay, send one team there and search the area. We’re turning north on Highway 101 following the truck at a distance. We’re about thirty minutes ahead of you. Keep coming and we’ll find out where they’re going and formulate a plan at that point,” I say.

  “Copy that, Jack, we’re on our way,” Lynn replies.

  Greg and I continue to tail the truck as it progresses along the highway. We watch through the camera-provided images on the screen, until the truck disappears from view, then pop up and find another vantage point behind trees or the occasional building along the way and repeat the process. At one point, we draw close to where Nic is buried and I send a mental prayer her way, the sadness of missing her fills me and makes me all the more anxious to get Robert and Bri back. If anyone harms them, they’ll find a world of hurt on both themselves and everyone they know. I’ll absolutely rain pain and destruction on their world.

  “If they took them, Jack, they’ll pay,” Greg says as if reading my thoughts. I look over and realize we aren’t that much different in our ways of thinking or experiences. We’ve talked some and I know he’s seen some pretty serious things himself. It’s good to have him along and to know that Lynn is not far behind. Looking at the truck in front of us, racing along the road at a pretty good clip, the people inside have no idea what is behind them. If they did, they wouldn’t have done what they did — if they did anything that is.

  I wonder how long they’ve scouted us or what they know, I think as we hop behind yet another stand of trees. It’s apparent they must have been watching us and I think back to those movements on earlier trips this way when I felt uneasy. We watch from a distance as they go past the first Shelton off ramps and then exit at the third one leading to the north part of town. Looking on, I see them turn by the high school and I take notice of the fenced-in grounds. Wooden observation towers have been recently erected in the corners and at various intervals. Guessing this is where the truck is headed, I turn on the recorders, making sure to keep the truck in sight but also making sure I record the entire area.

  As guessed, the truck turns and passes through gates into the high school complex itself. I maneuver slightly and zoom in. The truck stops by what I remember as the main office building. The two people in back hop out of the bed and open the doors. Zooming in closer, I watch as they pull Robert and Gonzalez from the rear seats. It appears they are either sleeping or unconscious and it’s all I can do not to race to their location and erupt in a frenzy. I know that I can get them back now that I have a location but I’ll have to play it smart. I continue to watch as Michelle and Bri are pulled out in the same manner, although Michelle looks as though she can walk with some assistance.

  My heart beats faster and my anger rises seeing them like that. Greg reaches over and grabs my arm. I hadn’t noticed but I had edged the helicopter closer as if it could feel my desire to swoop in and get them.

  “Easy, Jack, we’ll get them. They have to be okay or they wouldn’t have bothered carrying them this far or handle them like that,” he says not releasing his grip until I stabilize the helicopter once again.

  “I know, thanks,” I reply taking a deep breath.

  Grabbing the mic, I say, “Lynn, this is Jack, over.”

  “Go ahead, Jack,” Lynn responds.

  “What’s your location?”

  “We’re just passing that creek before the casino,” she answers.

  “Okay, stage there. It looks like they have some sort of encampment here. I need to analyze it more. We’ll come up with a plan afterwards,” I say.

  “Okay, Jack, we’re staging off the road and will await your call,” Lynn replies.

  “I want to get a look at the other side and get a recording of the entire camp,” I tell Greg.

  “Okay, it looks like we can sneak around to the east and cut behind that far tree line,” he responds pointing to a band of trees in the distance.

  The camp around the high school itself is surrounded by a chain link fence with barbed wire encircling the top. Constructed back a little from each corner is a built up, covered observation platform. An overhang stretches around the exteriors and it looks as if the ladders can be pulled up creating bunkers that can’t be scaled easily. To the extent that I can see from this vantage point, the platforms are also constructed at intervals around the perimeter and the corner ones are manned. A string of pole-mounted lights also line the perimeter with what appears to be small spotlights on the towers themselves.

  “Okay, let’s try and sneak around that way,” I say agreeing with Greg and wanting to get a recording of the other side as well.

  I swing the nose around to the east keeping below the camp’s line of sight and far enough away that I believe the sound of our engines and rotor won’t be heard. Hopping over various tree lines and buildings, we make our way around, looking ahead through the camera before our next hop.

  “Whoa, what’s that?” Greg says as we settle behind one particular line of trees.

  I look down at the screen and see movement in a large clearing ahead in the distance. Working with the zoom controls once again, I see people scattered across the field. Some appear to be working on fields that have obviously been plowed while others seem to be working on structures in various states of construction. The people, for the most part, appear unarmed with others standing around are obviously armed. Yellow school buses dot the entrance.

  “What’s that look like to you?” I ask Greg. I have my own ideas from years of experience in the field but
perhaps my view is biased.

  “Well, it could be that those standing around are keeping guard and a watch out for those working in the fields and buildings, but I would think they would be more on the perimeter if that were the case. Instead, they seem to be focused inward so my best guess is they are guarding the people working. Their stance and positions are more in line with people guarding prisoners,” he says after looking at the screen for a moment.

  “That’s what I think as well. That sort of fits in with the apparent attack on Gonzalez and the kids,” I reply.

  “Yeah, it does fit in with the overall theme. So do you think they’re capturing people to work on their farm or whatever it is up there?” He asks.

  “So it would seem,” I answer. “Let’s work our way further south and east around this and come at the camp from the north.”

  “Sounds good to me. I count about twenty guards and at least fifty people working. It’s hard to get an exact number from here,” Greg says.

  “That’s about what I have. It would be hard to assault with the guards inter-mixed the way they are,” I say edging the aircraft back after recording the scene.

  “Yeah, there might be some collateral casualties depending on the guard’s reactions,” he replies.

  “Let’s see what we can see from the other side and regroup,” I say hating to even voice those words. I am wanting my kids back and to see how they are but know that this has to be played right. Rushing in could make it much worse. We swing further south and I relay the latest information to Lynn along with my thoughts.

  “Okay, Jack, just don’t get it in your mind to go in and play hero,” she responds.

  “No worries, we’re just going to get video and survey the camp,” I say.

  “I know you, Jack, just make sure that’s all you do. We’ll be standing by,” Lynn says.

  Edging around the entire area, we come up on the camp from the north, stopping a distance out but where we can get an effective picture of the layout from the this side. It looks pretty much like the south with towers and fencing. The only difference is the fence’s closer proximity to the buildings as opposed to open fields on the south side. I’m not sure how they are keeping the night runners away just using a chain link fence but they’ve survived this long so they must be doing something right.