Tomorrow's Dawn (Book 3): Escape and Evade Read online

  Tomorrow’s Dawn — Book 3

  Escape and Evade

  Chapter 1

  Jensen sat in the titanium cockpit of his armored scout vehicle and watched as its sister, with his friend Daniel and his girlfriend Marcy inside, dropped from the sky with flames streaming into the air. To his front, another armored vehicle, a hulking Canid assault vehicle, also lay burning.

  He watched, seemingly in slow motion, as the man who had fired the anti-tank guided missile collapsed to the ground under his machine-gun fire at the same time as a single motorized wheel from Daniel’s tub arced gracefully through the atmosphere. The multicam tub occupied by Daniel crashed nose-first into the red clay of the mountain.

  In the foreground, Jensen could see the body of Sheila. The doctor slumped into the harness of the Humvee turret she’d manned to defend their new home. Her dark hair was spread across the roof of the vehicle as her life bled out, a victim of the heavy small arms fire from the invaders.

  Jensen couldn’t see Brent. The former construction worker had climbed into the second Humvee’s turret to return fire. He was further back in the pre-dawn darkness and might have survived. Sheila’s position had simply been too close to the access road. Someone had been able to flank her and fire into the unprotected sides of the turret.

  In the minutes just before dawn, their silent world had erupted into gunfire and explosions as an armed group of men in a heavily armored assault vehicle had attacked their mountain retreat. Their only warning had been the sound of the huge diesel engine of the Canid in the quiet night air. Brent had probably saved their lives, at least some of them, by waking them up as it approached.

  It might be too late for Sheila, but the early warning had given them a chance to fight back. Without the guns in the tubs and turrets, or the high explosive grenades from the tubs, the fight would have been over before it started.

  A final burst of machine-gun fire shouted out through the night like a giant woodpecker in the suddenly still morning. Brent was still in the fight. To the left of the man who had fired the anti-tank missile, the bullets chewed into a tree. From behind, another dark-clad man fell to the ground.

  Jensen tried to count the number of dead from the aggressors. He could account for at least 12 and hoped the other two were also down. If not, he was probably going to get himself killed, because he was going for Daniel. The multicam tub had rammed into the ground with a mighty crash. It landed on the nose and dropped back, upright, but angled slightly toward the sky. The missing rear wheel wasn’t there to keep it even keel.

  Memories of a young Lieutenant named Billy screamed through his head and demanded attention. He’d been killed by a friendly strafing run gone awry and was trapped in the cockpit of his tub as he died. Jensen had hardly stopped when he threw his hatch open and dashed out to see if his friend had met a similar fate.

  If any of the attackers were still alive, it would probably be his death sentence. There was no light emanating from the monitors inside Daniel’s tub. The fire from the flames clawing up the back side of the tub couldn’t fight off the darkness of the early dawn within the protected confines of Daniel’s cockpit. With the electronics offline, Jensen couldn’t see if Daniel or Marcy were okay.

  All he could do was pound on the armored glass and call out, “Daniel! Daniel!” One of the tub’s safety features was the inability to open the cockpit from the outside unless one of the occupants inside turned the large metal handles to release the locks. Jensen grasped his bright LED flashlight and shined it through the dark windows.

  He almost fainted when he saw movement. Someone was still alive! The former tub commander desperately played his light over the parts of his friends visible through the side window, searching for blood or injury. Everything seemed intact, but Daniel was struggling and Marcy seemed unresponsive.

  On the other side of the tub, Jessica appeared at the window next to the scout seat and started banging on the thick glass, trying to rouse one of the occupants to release the locks.

  Daniel seemed to awaken with a start and looked around with a dazed expression. He stabbed at one of the monitors a few times. The big man seemed confused when that didn’t cause the locks to unlatch. He tried some of the switches and toggles spread out across the center console as he tried to figure out how to get the hatch open.

  Jensen yelled and shined his light on the metal handle of the locks. “The lock Daniel—turn the bar to disengage the locks!”

  The sound of his friend’s voice seemed to bring Daniel back. He diverted his attention from the center console to his left and seemed to search for the lock release. When his hand found it, his big fingers engulfed the bar and covered it completely.

  “Now turn it,” Jensen told him, urging him on. Jensen’s neck crawled. There might still be more aggressors out there in the darkness. He expected a bullet in the back at any moment. His shouts were the loudest thing in the suddenly quiet mountain air. If anyone was still alive, they would know exactly where he was.

  Daniel struggled with the bar, he twisted it and pulled as he tried to figure out how to operate the simple mechanism. Finally, he pushed it forward. Jensen heard the hollow clunk as the metal disengaged and freed the hatch. Jensen dug his fingers into the small gap and swung it open.

  “Daniel! Buddy, you okay?”

  In the bright shine of the flashlight, Jensen could see Daniel’s pupils. One was slightly larger than the other.

  Jensen swore softly. He’d seen traumatic brain injury before on the battlefield. Neither of the occupants of the tub had been strapped in. They’d taken up position immediately after Brent sounded the alarm. In the explosion and gravity-assisted crash into the ground, they’d probably smashed their unhelmeted heads into the metal of their protective armor.

  “Daniel, I need you to help me. I can’t lift you out. Climb toward my voice,” he said, as he grasped his friend’s arm and gently tugged him toward the opening. “I need you to help me. Climb out through the hatch.” Daniel weighed a solid hundred pounds more than Jensen. He didn’t have the strength to lift him, much less pull him through the small hatch.

  Daniel seemed to lose focus for a moment, but Jensen persisted. “Through the hatch, Daniel. I need you to climb out through the hatch.” Jensen looked to the far side, where Jessica was still beating on the hatch. Marcy still hadn’t moved from her slumped position. She was slightly sideways with her face directed away from him.

  Jensen pulled with all his might as he urged Daniel. He could feel the warmth of the metal as the fire from the rear of the vehicle heated the entire body of the tub. If they waited too long, the occupants inside would cook.

  He was growing frustrated with Daniel. The big man seemed almost childlike as he tried to follow Jensen’s commands. Perhaps it was the dazed expression, or maybe it was the clumsy motions as he tried to climb out through the hatch headfirst, but at that moment he reminded Jensen of a giant child.

  It took what felt like forever for Daniel to finally drop down from the hatch. Jensen’s shoulders were scrunched together tightly, still expecting a bullet in the back at any second. Leaving the safety of an armored vehicle during a heated battle was foolhardy, but he couldn’t leave his friends to cook in a burning tub.

  Once Daniel reached the ground, he turned around and tried to climb back in. “Daniel! Daniel! Don’t go back in the tub!” Jensen tried futilely to pull him back, then moved around so he could look him in the eyes. “Daniel. Don’t go back in the tub.”

  He could hear his friend mumble something.

  “What? Daniel, what?”

  Daniel spoke again, a little more loudly. “There’s still someone in there.”


  Jensen pointed to his own tub, parked only about fifteen feet away. “Go sit by the tub. I’ll get Marcy.”

  Daniel still held the lower frame of the hatch. “My rifle. I’ll just get my rifle first.”

  Jensen pushed him toward his own tub. “I’ll get Marcy and your rifle. Just go sit down over there.”

  Daniel looked at him searchingly, trying to determine if he was lying to him, but seemed satisfied and moved off toward Jensen’s tub with staggering steps.

  Once he’d gone a few feet, Jensen turned to the multicam tub, which was steadily growing warmer, and climbed inside. He picked up Daniel’s Sig rifle, which was the first thing he came across, and tossed it outside onto the grass. Then he reached over to Marcy’s hatch and unlocked it. He swung it open and raised the cockpit. Jessica reached in and helped him to pull Marcy’s limp form outside onto the grass.

  Behind him, Jensen could hear something. He turned to find Daniel trying to climb back into the cockpit again. “Daniel! Go sit down.”

  His friend replied, “Someone is in the tub. Have to get them.”

  Jensen felt sympathy and respect for Daniel at that moment. He was barely on his feet, but still tried to come back to rescue his passenger.

  “Daniel” he said gently, “We got Marcy out. There’s nobody else in the tub.” He shined his light around the cramped confines of the cockpit to show the truth of his words. “See? There’s nobody here.”

  Daniel seemed satisfied with that and turned back toward the other tub.

  Realizing he’d probably be back when his short-circuiting brain reminded him there was someone else in the tub, Jensen pulled the top of the cockpit down and dogged the hatch on the commander’s side of the tub. If Daniel wanted to get back in, he’d have to go around.

  Jensen exited through the scout’s hatch on the passenger side and dropped to the ground next to Jessica and Marcy. Jessica was crouched by the other woman, feeling for a pulse. “She’s alive” she said. “She’s got a strong pulse.”

  Jensen tried to figure out a way to get them to safety. The cabin was almost fifty yards away, but it seemed like the safest bet at the moment. “Get Daniel to follow you to the cabin. He’s really disoriented. Don’t let him try to climb back into the tub.”

  Jessica nodded and moved around the front toward Daniel.

  Jensen put his forearms on either side of Marcy’s head to keep her neck stable and grabbed her shoulders to drag her. He needed to get her to the cabin, but didn’t want to aggravate any neck injury she might have incurred from the explosions.

  By the time he reached the relative safety of the thick logs, his back and legs were screaming for relief. He gently laid her on the ground and tried to stand straight. His lower back rebelled at first, but finally yielded to his brain.

  Jensen put his hands on his rifle, oh so familiar, and walked back out the front door, scanning for more threats. The morning sky was lit only by the flames from the Canid armored vehicle and those still consuming the multicam tub. Nobody was shooting. He could see Jessica talking quietly to Daniel as she tried to pull him toward the cabin. Every few steps, he tried to turn back toward his tub.

  “Daniel! Marcy’s in the cabin. Go to the cabin!” He drew alongside them and repeated himself. “Daniel. Marcy’s in the cabin.” He turned to Jessica, “Get him inside and stay with them. They can’t defend themselves right now.”

  Jessica nodded and gently tugged on Daniel’s arm to lead him back to the protective logs. “Daniel, we have to go.” The big man resisted. She changed her tone as if she had a surprise. “Hey, Daniel...” The big man turned to her, seemingly curious about what she had to say. “Daniel. Your socks are dirty. We need to get you clean socks.”

  He looked down at his feet, encased in combat boots as if to see the truth of her words. “Dirty socks” he replied.

  “Let’s go into the cabin and get you some clean socks, okay?”

  For whatever reason, that convinced him to go. Jensen just shook his head; fucking intel.

  He wished he had an extra pair of eyes as he watched the edge of the clearing for more threats while still trying to keep an eye on the Canid along with Daniel and Jessica as they walked into the cabin. He hadn’t seen the driver or gunner try to dismount from the armor. The crippled vehicle still lay against the tree at the top of the drive.

  Jensen had no idea who had attacked them or why. He’d been caught up in the heat of battle and concern for his friends. Now his brain burned with the desire to find out who had tried to kill them. He looked off toward the Humvee with Sheila in the turret. The attackers had killed at least one of them.

  Jensen turned toward the second Humvee and walked toward it. He called in a hoarse whisper, “Brent, you okay?”

  He felt a rush of relief when the call came back, “Yeah. What the fuck is going on?” Brent knew Rebecca would have admonished him gently for his language, but she wasn’t there anymore, and he was. “Who the fuck are these guys?”

  Jensen wanted to know as well. Nobody had fired in several minutes. He hoped all the aggressors were down, but he was going to make sure.

  “Get by the cabin and watch the Canid. It’s still got at least one inside. I’m going to find anybody that’s left.”

  Brent crawled out from the turret and exited through the rear door of the Humvee. “Jensen, if you find anybody still alive, kill them.”

  Jensen nodded, they were already dead, whether they’d passed over or not. “I just need answers from one of them, first.”

  Chapter 2

  Jensen slowly walked through the trees about 20 yards from the tree line. The sky was turning orange to the north and south as today’s dawn slowly trudged across the mountains. The light didn’t reach this far into the trees yet, so he wore the night vision goggles and quietly moved between the trunks of hickories and maples. He was counting the bodies as he did so.

  The high explosive grenades and machine-gun fire had chewed up the attackers, who were only greenish forms through his optics. Some of them had pieces missing, so he focused on counting torsos and disregarded arms and legs. By the time he’d made a full half-circle, he counted fourteen dead. The final body was the man who’d fired the anti-tank missile. Jensen turned toward the Canid. There should be two left, the gunner and the driver. He’d get answers from one of them.

  Jensen shined his light into the cab of the Canid and saw frightened eyes peering back. One of the men was talking excitedly. Jensen wasn’t sure if he was talking over a satellite link or to the other man, but it didn’t matter.

  “Come out of the vehicle without your weapons.”

  The response was a middle finger. The two men might not have any way to attack him from inside the armored vehicle, but he had no way of getting to them either.

  That was okay. He knew how this worked. They were probably hoping to stay inside the vehicle until reinforcements arrived. He wasn’t going to let that happen. Jensen let his rifle drop on the single point sling and started to gather dead wood. They’d come out when it got warm enough.

  He piled the wood up against the front of the vehicle and underneath it. Brent saw his plan and helped, bringing cardboard from the cabin and split logs they had piled alongside. By now, it was light enough to see the men inside. He could see the black tactical gear the men were wearing and the distinctive patch on their shoulders.

  The patch showed two red eyes and two white fangs on a black background. They were Vampirgruppe. He’d worked with some of them in the ‘stan and northern India. Most of them had seemed pretty decent. They’d mostly been ex-soldiers who had left the service for higher pay, or been forced out by some injury and returned to the only thing they knew, war.

  Vampirgruppe was a private military company, which was a politically correct covert term for mercenary. The United States and Russia both used PMCs extensively to do dirty work where they had plausible deniability. The death of a soldier made big news, but the death of a contractor could be covered up
or denied. They were paid big money, but many of them had their bodies left in the deserts or mountains of the Middle East, Africa, and Southwest Asia.

  Jensen held their eyes with his own. He had no expression on his face as he held up a lighter in front of him, letting both men see their immediate future. They were going to die in the vehicle if they didn’t exit. When neither moved, he just shrugged and touched the lighter to the cardboard from their many packaged meals. The flames lit hungrily and ignited the wood. It smoked heavily at first from the rains of the past several days, but the water was only on the surface. Once it evaporated, the flames bit into the dead wood and raged higher.

  The former Army man simply stood in front of the Canid with his arms crossed and watched. The flames from the fire reflected in his eyes. He was letting them know all of their comrades were dead. They were completely alone, and they were going to burn to death in that vehicle if they didn’t come out. Their company motto was, “We attack in the night.” That was cute, but they had failed and now dawn had arrived.

  He casually threw another log onto the fire. The men inside kept turning to each other and chattering wildly. Jensen couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he assumed they were trying to decide whether or not to trust him. As evidenced by their reaction when he asked them to come out, they could hear him though. Jensen didn’t care. He hadn’t promised to keep them alive. He was pretty sure the man who flipped him off was going to lose that finger.

  After another few minutes of him calmly waiting as they sweated inside the vehicle, they reached a decision. He could see both of them raise their weapons inside the vehicle and place them on the dashboard to show they were unarmed. Jensen could hear the door click and swing open on pneumatic hinges. They had chosen to take the path of hopefulness rather than certain death by barbeque.

  It wasn’t going to do them any good. Their actions had extended their lives by minutes, maybe hours, but no more. Jensen hadn’t been opposed to the PMCs when they were fighting alongside him. He hadn’t necessarily agreed with their tactics or the big money they’d been throwing around, but they’d been useful. Now, he found them morally offensive. They’d attacked him and his people for no reason. He wanted to know who had paid these mercenaries to kill other Americans.