54 | FREEDOM ROAD
Wheeler came on the radio. “News ain’t getting any better, boys. Heavy concentrations of neuro-troops have hit Fort Carson from the north and east. Neuros must know where you’re going. Jackson has put some of his armor to the south to hold the road open for you. Hope you’re nearly there.”
“Not far to go now,” Sam said, looking up at the skies around them. “What about jet fighters and helicopters?”
“You’re clear so far. Jackson’s boys took out two fast movers with Stingers a few moments ago, and the rest are keeping clear. I think they’re trying to break through the lines and cut you off from the mountain on the ground.”
“Tell them we’re doing our best; be there as soon as we can.”
“Good luck. You’re going to need it. We’re all going to need it. Those bombers at Whiteman just got airborne.”
They screamed around the off-ramp to Colorado Springs behind a quartet of tanks that had clearly been stationed there to protect the interchange and were already engaged in a furious firefight with troops advancing down the freeway from the north.
A helicopter gunship streaked down toward them low over the rooftops as Sam put his foot down along Academy Boulevard.
A series of rockets flashed from a pod beneath a stubby wing, blasting tarmac and dirt into the sky just behind them. It swung around on their tail, but before it could fire again, a pinpoint of light streaked skyward, clipping the machine’s tail rotor and exploding.
The helicopter began to spin uncontrollably, like a toy unwinding, and belly flopped onto the road with a horrible grinding sound.
Soldiers in full combat gear were laying down a fierce fire toward the troops arriving from the north, but the sky was turning black with troops and gunships. There seemed to be no end to them, and already Sam could see resistance forces starting to fall back under the assault.
They raced down the boulevard, right between two groups of soldiers firing at each other from either side of the road. Bullets cracked the bulletproof glass of the Humvee but did not penetrate.
In front of them, a man appeared with a shoulder-fired rocket of some kind. He dropped to one knee and aimed it right at them. Sam swerved from side to side, trying to shake off his aim, but the man was too close. Suddenly, a series of shots rang out around them, and the man with the rocket staggered. A puff of smoke came from the rocket, but it went wild, spiraling off into the sky as the man fell.
“Not much farther.” Sam gritted his teeth and hurled the big car around the winding mountainside roads.
They barely made it.
Neuro-troops were charging down the hillside at them when Sam rounded the final corner and shot forward into the circular opening that was the mouth of the underground facility at Cheyenne Mountain.
Explosions and light-weapons fire rocked the vehicle on its springs as they hurtled inside, and Sam fumbled for a moment with the lights, trying to adjust to the sudden dark, despite the strip lighting that ran down the ceiling of the tunnel.
There were soldiers everywhere, running up behind them to try to defend the mouth of the tunnel, and the gunfire and explosions behind them were continuous.
“There!” Dodge shouted, and Sam hit the brake pedal, the heavy vehicle sliding to a halt beside a massive metal blast door.
A wiry, gray-haired man in full combat gear ran over as they jumped out of the car.
“I’m Jackson,” he shouted over the sounds of the battle at the entrance. “You got here just in time. They’ve overrun our perimeter. We’re falling back here to the tunnel, going to put up a last-ditch defense until we can get as many of our boys as possible in here and shut the blast doors. You get in there and do what you need to do.”
There was a sudden burst of firing from the tunnel entrance, and they ducked behind the Humvee as bullets whined off the rock walls around them.
“Get in there!” Jackson shouted, and ran toward the entrance, drawing his pistol.
Sam didn’t need any encouragement and ran after Dodge, who seemed to know where he was going.
“Where’s the laptop?” Sam shouted as they ran in through the huge blast door.
“Don’t need it. The virus is finished,” Dodge yelled back, holding up his skull-shaped USB drive.
They were in a corridor with rock walls and a metal roof. In front of them was another blast door, a twin of the one behind them.
That led them into a wide concourse, with a low mezzanine running around the outside. Various doors led off on both levels.
Dodge was still running, up a flight of metal stairs, heading for a doorway on the mezzanine level with the familiar Homeland Security CDD logo above it. Sam bounded up the stairs behind him.
The door led into a control room with workstations and computers, each with a keyboard, a mouse, and a neuro-headset.
Dodge slid into a chair, sweeping the headset to one side, and slotted his drive into a USB3 port.
“All right, you witch,” he said. “Get a taste of this.”