Page 39 of Following Their Heart

“He is going now.”

“Good. Tell everyone we’ve got the second SAM truck online. We’re headed your way.”

“Ten-four.”

Rev and I drive our ATVs back to camp, and we meet up with Brawn in the lot. Camp has been completely transformed. The animals are locked up inside the barn, so the paddocks and chicken yard are all empty. The lodge is no longer a simple, two-story building with a common room made of logs. It’s a fortress. Instead of the green paint that made it look a part of the surrounding forest, it’s caked with dishrag-gray BallistiCrete and topped with a rotating machine gun housing accessed through the dorm. The windows are dark, with curtains drawn, but I see the barrels of automatic weapons poking out from narrow openings. I know there are men behind those weapons, keeping watch, ready to fire on intruders. The gennies are all quiet. The place looks like something you’d see on the edge of a demilitarized zone in eastern Europe.

There’s a ridge at the far end of our lot that we use for target practice. It’s currently serving as a platform for two tanks loaded up with 120 mm armor-piercing ammo. Ideally, we’d have a man behind the gun in each tank, but Rev is going to have to be on guard and use whichever one is best positioned to chip away at those choppers.

An obnoxiousbeep-beep-beepgrates on my ears as Brawn backs a tow-truck between Bessie and a panel truck we use for scavenges. He’s been positioning all our largest vehicles around the tanks as cover for Rev.

Brawn cuts the engine of the tow truck and climbs out. In the ensuing quiet, I ask Rev, “You set here?”

My lanky second nods, his expression grave. He’s got body armor on and night-vision binocs hanging around his neck. Five automatic rifles lay propped against the tanks, and he’s got a double holster with forty-fives on each side.

“Better get suited up, boss,” he tells me. “Dark is falling. You too, big guy,” he says to Brawn.

Before I can respond, a hush falls over the camp. Living on the side of a mountain, you get used to the nature sounds all around you. The chirps and songs of the birds become part of the background, as do the cracking twigs beneath the hooves of deer and the rustling of bushes as wild rabbits dive out of reach of their predators. While Rev, Brawn, and I stand on the edge of the lot, all that background noise just stops. Dead in its tracks.

It's perfectly, eerily quiet.

Rev and I share a dark look. Quiet is never good.

Then there’s a sound of the wind picking up, but when I lick my finger and hold it up, there’s no wind to speak of. It’s not air that’s rushing toward us. It’s something else.

The radio crackles to life. “Summit to Jud.” It’s Scrap. “We’ve got incoming. It’s a flock of goddamn birds, ahugefucking flock! It’s like a swarm! They’re comin’ from every direction! Take cover!”

Chapter 16

Jud

The rushing soundgrows louder, and on the air is the swelling shriek of what sounds like a million feathered Kamikazes. I can’t see them beyond the tall pines, but I hear them, and the sound builds like a freight train barreling down the tracks. When the swarm does come into sight, it’s going to be massive. Maybe even big enough to confuse Scrap’s radar.

“Get in the tank!” I point to the closest one. Rev takes the rifles, climbs up, and drops inside, sealing the portal shut.

Brawn and I haul ass to the lodge on the ATVs. I yell into my radio as I go. “What’ve we got on radar, summit?” I yell to Scrap. “Choppers up yet?”

“Radar’s doing fuck-all!” Scrap yells back. “It’s working, but nothing’s showing! No flock, no incoming, nothing!”

“Why the hell not?”

“I don’t know!” Scrap sounds as frustrated as I’ve ever heard him. “I had everything working perfectly, but we never got to run that test! It’s like we’re watching a totally different section of sky than I’m aiming at!”

“Is it a coordinate issue? Can you aim manually?”

“No manual control! It’s all computerized!” I hear the frantic clacking of keys behind his voice.

Shit!They could be on top of us, and we wouldn’t know it electronically.

“Forget the radar. Get out the binocs and tell us the second you spot those choppers.”

“Fuck!” I hear him pound his fist on something. “Roger!”

“Hurry!” I yell to Brawn as we skid to a stop at the back of the lodge. “They’ll be hot on the heels of the birds!” We race inside, and I start yelling commands.

“Armor up! Everyone to your stations! We’ve got incoming!” I don’t have confirmation from Scrap, but I can read between the lines. Raptor’s Gift is controlling birds. He’s using that Gift to overwhelm us with sky noise. That means he’s coming. He’s going to try to sneak in under cover of the flock.

Doc comes in on the radio. “Treehouse to base! Jesus! There’s a shitload of birds closing in! It’s like a fuckingswarmas far as you can see!” Next to Scrap, he’s got the longest view.

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