Chapter 8
Cowboy was juggling so much shit he must look like a clown in a cow pasture. First Jax decided to leave HERO Force completely, then Noah went off the goddamn deep end and walked off a mission.
He rubbed his new beard, the prickly scruff still feeling strange on his face. He was an understanding guy and he understood Noah had just lost his sister, but Ryker could go fuck himself if he thought he could put personal shit—any personal shit—before an active duty mission.
Noah, Stefan, Cowboy, and Booger were five thousand feet in the air over Mexico City when Noah decided to pick a fight, the chopper about to land on the property of a drug lord who had stolen his two American children from their custody-holding mother, a US Marine.
Tensions were running high since Booger had lobbied hard against Noah for an on-foot interception without an active sniper for cover. Booger didn’t want the kids to get hurt. Noah didn’t want any of the SEALs to die.
“It’s fucking bullshit,” Noah had said to Cowboy through their headset, knowing full well the others could hear him. “If that shit-for-brains doesn’t think I can tell the difference between a tango and a child, he has no place on this bird or down there on the ground with us.”
“We’ve been over this, Ryker,” said Cowboy, who’d already been through this once and had no great desire to go through it again. “You’ll cover us from a distance after the initial breach is made.”
“The initial breach is what’s going to get somebody killed.”
“I don’t see it that way,” said Cowboy.
“You did before this idiot suggested otherwise,” said Noah, gesturing to Booger.
Booger crossed his arms and shook his head, otherwise ignoring their conversation.
“He has some good points,” said Cowboy, counting on his fingers. “A sniper at the get-go puts the whole house on high alert.”
“Oh, because you don’t think gun-toting soldiers in fatigues showing up at the door does the same thing?”
Cowboy held out another finger. “And we don’t have eyes into the house to see who’s answering the door.”
“I am capable of visual discrimination. There’s the fucking problem. You’re acting like I can’t be trusted.” He jerked his head back. “That’s it, isn’t it? You don’t fucking trust me.”
Cowboy didn’t look him in the eye, and even as he did it, he knew it was as sure as a giant spray-painted no on a billboard sign.
But there was truth to what Noah was saying.
If this was the military, he’d pull another sniper from the bench and sit Noah down on it.
The man was a live wire since his sister died, and hell no, Cowboy didn’t trust him when two little kids’ lives were on the line.
It was that bad.
Hell, he’d almost decided not to take Noah on the mission at all and go without a sniper, but no sniper at all put the men at too great a risk. When Booger suggested an alternative plan that didn’t put so many of their eggs in Noah’s basket, it seemed like a dream come true.
“Why am I even here?” asked Noah.
Cowboy met his friend’s stare. In the time the other man had been with HERO Force, they truly had become that. When Cowboy first learned Noah was a prepper, he’d thought the guy must be off his rocker. Who spent that kind of time and resources to prepare for an event that would probably never come?
So Noah had invited him out to his house in the woods outside of Atlanta.
He called it a bunker, and it didn’t take Cowboy long to figure out why.
What looked like a two-thousand-square-foot ranch was really a steel and cement reinforced structure with a basement twice the size of the house.
“I figured as long as I was building it, I may as well build it right,” Noah had said.
There were storerooms full of food with what Noah claimed was a shelf-life between five and twenty years, but he took care to rotate the stock. Another room housed his weapon collection with enough ammo to shoot his way through all of Armageddon.
“It’s good you didn’t put this shit on your resume,” said Cowboy.
“Why’s that?”
“Because then I would have known you’re batshit crazy.”
“You ever think about how fragile our supply chain is?”
“Not really.”
“A few days’ goods. That’s all that’s kept in our stores today.
Everything is on demand. No waste. Food arrives on the shelves when it’s needed and not a moment before.
That’s why a snowstorm can empty a city of groceries in a matter of hours.
There isn’t any more in the back beyond a small supply for the next day. What you see is what you get.”
Cowboy shrugged. “But they have warehouses full of that shit.”
“Not anymore. They used to, sure. But now most of it comes in on trucks and is shipped directly to the stores. Warehousing adds to the cost of the products. It’s no longer necessary to keep our shelves full.” Noah raised one eyebrow. “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Anything disrupted that supply chain. A power outage that affected a large area for an extended period of time.”
“Doesn’t happen.”
“It would if we had an EMP. An electromagnetic pulse would damage all the electronics. It could be naturally occurring from a solar storm on the sun, or it could be deliberately used. Imagine it. Your cell phone wouldn’t work.
The power in your house wouldn’t work. Every appliance broken.
Every electronic device down and unable to be repaired.
Computers run that supply chain, and the computers wouldn’t be working. ”
Noah walked around the room, touching giant bottles of water one by one as he went.
“Then there’s bioterrorism. Or natural medical emergencies, like an evolving bird flu or Ebola.
History tells us they could strike at any time and knock out society as we know it.
Disorder would ensue. Chaos, if you will.
The political system relies on a healthy society to keep it functioning. Law enforcement. All of it.”
Cowboy narrowed his eyes. “Is this why you became a sniper?”
“It’s why I like guns. We need to be able to protect ourselves in any situation.
Even the unexpected.” He shrugged. “A lot of preppers also prepare to defend themselves against civilians who weren’t prepared, those who want their supplies of food, water, weaponry.
I prefer to accommodate as many people as possible.
So when the shit hits the fan, grab Charlotte and come here. You’ll always be welcome.”
Trevor walked into Cowboy’s office, disturbing his reverie. “I’ve got a problem.”
“Shoot.”
He ran his hands through his hair. He looked like shit, which gave Cowboy more pause than anything. Hawk was a pretty boy who always seemed to look good.
“Olivia’s got a stalker.”
Cowboy leaned forward, tenting his hands on his desk. Olivia and Hawk had been together over a year now, the former SEAL and the movie star an unlikely couple. “In Paris?”
Hawk nodded. “She doesn’t want to leave because the movie has another month and a half of filming, which I get, but this guy is starting to freak her—and me—the fuck out.
And the security hired by the studio is completely useless.
They were watching her while she got a threatening note in her goddamn dressing room and even inside her chauffeured car. ”
“You want to go to her.”
“Yes. But I’m supposed to be here helping you train the new recruits.”
“I don’t give a shit about them. I give a shit about you.” He pointed to the door with his chin. “Go ahead. You have my blessing.” Hawk thanked him and left.
Cowboy’s cell phone rang. It was Charlotte.
“What’s up, hot stuff?” he asked.
“Turn on channel nine.”
He grabbed the clicker. Noah’s face filled the screen. “…with a storm surge like this one’s packing.”
The camera moved to a young boy in his arms. “What about you, little guy? Is your daddy taking good care of you?” The kid smiled and looked at Noah adoringly. “Yeah.”
“Holy shit,” said Cowboy.
“You missed his wife,” said Charlotte.
“Noah has a wife?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“Who the hell is she?”
“No idea. Some pretty lady. Her hair was wet, but I think it’s blonde.”
Cowboy had never seen Noah with a woman, much less a wife and kid. “What the fuck is going on?”
“Better question. Why are they standing on the frontline of a hurricane on Hilton Head Island?”
“That’s where his sister lived.” He could see it, Noah going there after he walked off the job. It was the only place the other man wanted to be.
“Maybe she’s just a friend,” said Charlotte.
“I don’t think I ever claimed a friend was my wife, especially on national TV.” The camera followed Noah, the woman, and the kid to a little orange car, Noah climbing into the driver’s seat. “The plate number.”
“C85 HV9,” said Charlotte.
Cowboy wrote it down. “Hilton Head’s in South Carolina. Let me see what I can find out about Noah’s new mystery wife. I’ll call you back.” He hung up, immediately dialing Logan. “Wheel yourself in here. I need you to run a plate for me.”