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  Lost Shadows

  The Shadow Patriots Book 6

  Warren Ray

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2018 by Warren Ray

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  Chapter 1

  Jackson Michigan

  Scar struggled to get up from his bed and had to push with his left arm to sit up. He began stretching his body, which ached from the failed mission to Canada. Not only did they not get any supplies but lost the funds to purchase them. After twisting his shoulders around and arching his back, he massaged his temples trying to relieve a headache that was pounding like a jackhammer.

  Besides the stress he was under, the loud gunfire from last night’s shootout didn’t help any. He was also upset that he had lost his prized Kimber Model 1911 .45ACP to the cops in Canada. It had been a gift from his wife five years ago, and he had been carrying it with him since the beginning of the Shadow Patriots.

  He stood up and arched his back again before jumping into the shower to wash off yesterday’s failure. Cold water had a way of forcing you to focus on the here and now, which is what he needed. Dwelling on the past tended to confuse your thinking on what needed to be done, and he had lots to do.

  As he stepped out the shower and toweled off before putting on his clothes, he tried not to think about Sergeant Wilson’s greed. Scar shook his head to get the man out of his thoughts. He wasn’t worth the effort but hoped he would pay for his sins.

  Thankfully, Hadley had spotted the cops sinking their canoe and decided to get back to Jackson for help. How different the night would have gone had the young Texan not done so. More than likely, the cops would have caught and tortured him for information before killing him as a traitor. They would have seen the Patriots coming back across the river, and that would have been the end of that.

  Scar swallowed some Motrin for his headache before heading down to the cafeteria. Since the food was still running low, he realized supplies continued to be his main priority, and they would have to get creative to either find more to eat or move the rest of these people out of Jackson.

  He pushed the door open and was surprised to see Amber sitting there. She had on a clean pair of jeans and a dark purple cami top with a dark blue windbreaker. He was glad she was there because he had arrived in a different vehicle last night and hadn’t had the chance to talk to her or Reese.

  “Well, hey there.”

  Amber looked up. “Morning Scar.”

  “Didn’t expect to see you here,” said Scar picking up the decanter.

  “It’s a bit on the light side,” said Amber commenting on the quality of the coffee.

  “I see that, but it’s better than nothing,” said Scar as he poured a cup. He sat down across from her. “Sleep good?”

  “Like a baby, but something out in the hall woke me up a bit ago.”

  “Well, that sucks.”

  Amber gave him a half shrug.

  Scar took a sip of coffee. “So, was it miserable taking a cold shower last night.”

  “Believe it or not the shower actually felt pretty good. I guess I was still numb and besides, there was a lot of grime to wash off.”

  “Yeah, I’ll bet,” said Scar taking another sip of coffee. He set the cup down and looked at Amber. “You know, you and Reese, were amazing last night. I’m really proud of you guys.”

  Amber moved a hand to her heart. “Well, thank you, Scar. That’s sweet of you to say so. We certainly weren’t expecting to be in a firefight that’s for sure. We thought we’d just be babysitting the garage. Reese even commented she shouldn’t have been there, to begin with.”

  “I don’t know about that. She definitely held her own.”

  Amber nodded approvingly. “So, what was it like over there? We were looking through the binoculars fantasizing about getting a beer, well I was, Reese just wanted pizza.”

  Scar couldn’t contain his smile.

  “What?”

  “We had both.”

  Amber crossed her arms over her chest. “Ah, that’s just not fair.”

  “I know, right, but then we were also in jail, so there’s that.”

  “So, how did that beer taste?”

  “The first one was pure ecstasy,” boasted Scar.

  “You had two?”

  “Had to wash down the cheeseburger.”

  Amber feigned anger by giving him the evil eye.

  Scar laughed. “Hey, we had just barely finished the second one before getting arrested.”

  “Ah, yes, always a price to pay now isn’t there?”

  Scar shook his head. “Always.”

  “Well, serves you right,” said Amber sarcastically.

  “I’ll say this Amber. It was just nice having a normal night out with friends.”

  Amber gave him a thoughtful expression and nodded.

  “Those Canadians have it pretty good despite everything that’s going on here. The prices were higher than normal, but that’s to be expected.”

  “Probably where the Jijis and cops are getting their supplies.”

  Scar put his cup down and stared at her.

  “What?”

  “Amber I think I could kiss ya.”

  “What?”

  “Supplies. Mordulfah’s got a lot of mouths to feed. He must have stockpiles of it somewhere close to feed his little army.”

  Amber started nodding recognizing what Scar was saying. “Sounds like we got a recon mission.”

  “Oh, hell yeah, we do.”

  Scar leaned back in his chair grateful he bumped into Amber. This could potentially solve their problem or at the very least put it off until they had a better solution. He liked the idea and was about to get up to go look for Bassett when he and Meeks walked into the cafeteria. He told them the idea, and both readily agreed to go out on a recon mission.

  Chapter 2

  Grosse Pointe Michigan

  Surveying the damage to the mansion, Mordulfah dug deep within himself to control his emotions in front of the men. His father taught him at an early age to always maintain a blank facade. It was a source of power, and he would need it in spades because the rebels had embarrassed him again by attacking his home and taking his women.

  Even after three days, the smell of burnt carpet and wood still permeated the air as he stepped around a charred window frame that had fallen out of the galley room. Broken glass crunched under his feet as he walked on the grass. He had just finished fixing this room from the last attack, and now it, along with the entire south side, was completely ruined from the rebel’s RPG. Thankfully, they were able to contain the fire and prevent the whole mansion from being burned down.

  Mordulfah turned toward the front of the house and saw some of the workers staring at him. There had been whispers among the men about how he was weak and not as powerful as they thought he was. He wouldn’t be able to do anything about it because he could only behead so many people before they would desert him. He had already played that card after the battle on Robinson Road. Besides, he had lost close to a hundred men from this recent attack and couldn’t afford to lose anymore.

  What he needed were men who were real fighters, not these wannabes that filtered in from around the area. These men had the will to fight but not the skills, and it showed. Over the past week, he had lost over half of them to a smaller force. He hated Cole Winters but had to admire him for how he was able to accomplish so much with just a handful of men.

  Mordulfah shook his head thinking about the RPG they had
used. He could only guess where the rebels had gotten their hands on such a weapon but figured it had to be the Canadians. They were quite interested in what was going on down here and feared they were aware of his plan to confiscate the upper Mid-West. Even though he purchased supplies and received electric power from them, they didn’t want him as a neighbor and would do what they could to prevent such a thing. As soon as he had established control, he would deal with the Canadians and punish them for their insolence.

  Mordulfah had seen enough and headed for the kitchen. He turned to his trusted aide, Wali. “I’m going to need to go and see Uncle Faisal.”

  Wali raised an eyebrow.

  “I know, the price will be high, but we need his forces if we are to have our own country.”

  “I’ll make the necessary arrangements.”

  “I need you to stay here this time and continue overseeing the repairs. I’ll have Thomas accompany me.”

  Wali bowed. “As you wish.”

  A flicker of excitement shot through Mordulfah’s veins knowing it would be worthwhile to bargain with his uncle. The man had a soft spot for him because of the unfair way the family had treated him. Mordulfah had many cousins with whom to compete, and his father was the youngest brother. With the help of his Uncle’s connections in the banking world, he had been able to eke out his own large piece of the pie.

  He had made millions instead of spending millions like his spoiled cousins. This endeared him to Faisal, but at the same time cast him as an outlier because of his cousins’ petty jealousies. Mordulfah never let it bother him, but continued to go about his business of amassing a fortune and making connections that were now coming in handy. It was how he was able to meet and do business with the multibillionaire, Gerald Perozzi. Over the last few years, he allowed the old man to take advantage, making him think he wasn’t as sophisticated as his Western counterparts. Doing this, he had successfully manipulated the man to allow him to become part of the cabal dedicated to the takedown of America.

  Perozzi mistakenly thought he was going to eliminate him after he succeeded in taking over the upper Midwest. Little did the old man know that there was someone in his inner circle reporting to Mordulfah waiting for orders to kill him. He would also take out that arrogant, fat man, Lawrence Reed. He would personally pull the trigger on him and take pleasure doing it.

  Chapter 3

  Jackson Michigan

  Scar and Amber stood in the parking lot and watched Bassett, Meeks, Burns, and Nordell leave to scout the Jiji’s supply lines. If they were going to get the full outlay of the Jijis supply chain, they would have to cross enemy lines. There were several hundred Jijis up in this area alone, which was a lot of mouths to feed.

  Did they have one, or two, routes for the delivers? If two, were they out of Detroit, and where did they separate? The trick was getting the supplies back across the border. This was a daytime operation, which was not the ideal environment when you’re outnumbered. Their preference was to operate using night-vision optics, with which they owned the darkness.

  Bassett drove north toward the interstate. Their destination was an abandoned manufacturing plant off Willis Road. He had the multiple buildings heavily guarded; not wanting the Jijis to be able to use the thirty-five acres as a base of operations. In addition to patrolling this area, the security Basset had put in place included blocking off all exits from the interstate. He had tractor-trailers parked in strategic areas as well as keeping rotating guard shifts. There had been random encounters with Jijis looking for more comfortable accommodations in the nearby houses, but for the most part, they stayed on the interstate.

  Bassett drove into the plant and saw one of his men climbing a ladder to the roof where they had a guard post.

  “You boys up for a bird’s eye view?” asked Bassett.

  “Always up for that,” said Meeks getting out of the SUV.

  The four climbed the ladder and were greeted by Craig and Rick Robertson who were cousins from Jackson.

  “Hey guys,” said Bassett extending his hand.

  “What brings you guys here?” asked Craig.

  “Wanting to get some info on the Jijis’ food deliveries.”

  “That’s easy,” said Craig pointing across the field toward the rest area on the interstate. “A van makes deliveries twice a day. The Jijis come and go out of there all day.”

  Bassett lifted the binoculars up. “How big of a truck.”

  “More like a small moving van. Eighteen-footer, I’d say,” said Rick.

  They chatted with the cousins for a few more minutes before leaving and heading east to the border. Bassett wanted to get in place before the next delivery, which was due in a few hours and threaded his way through the back roads. He had familiarized himself with the whole area because he was in charge of their borders and knew what roads were safe to travel.

  This part of the state had a lot of open areas that were still being farmed up until the crash. While weeds had started taking over the fields, there weren’t enough to keep you from being spotted. However, some of the roads had plenty of trees and foliage to keep you hidden.

  Sylvan Road was one of these, and it was just west of Manchester Road or Michigan 52, which was the Jijis’ border. It connected Interstate 94 where the Jijis were and US 12 where the cops kept watch.

  All the windows on the SUV were down as Bassett drove on Sylvan Road. The guys stayed alert knowing they weren’t too far from the Jijis. Bassett found the dirt road he was looking for and took a left. He drove around a small bend to hide their ride. Without any formality, the guys exited the vehicle and jogged back to the road.

  “This is Chrysler’s Proving Grounds,” said Nordell as he climbed over the chain-link fence that surrounded the area. “You got around a hundred miles of road on thirty-eight hundred acres.”

  “Sounds like a fun place to work,” said Meeks.

  “Can be if you like to test drive cars. They got all kinds of different road conditions out here.”

  “How far to 52?” asked Burns.

  “A couple of miles,” said Bassett looking at Nordell.

  He nodded. “We’ll have to split up though. We won’t be able to monitor both roads at the same time.”

  Bassett partnered with Meeks and headed north towards the interstate while Burns and Nordell headed east. It took close to an hour to travel across the Proving Grounds’ diverse terrain. They didn’t dare walk on the roads in case Jijis were driving around on them. Bassett had thought about just staying with the cousins up on the roof. It would have been easier, but he wanted to be sure of the number vans used and how long the deliveries took.

  They came to the edge of the woods and were right next to the interstate. Bassett wished he could have gotten closer to the overpass, but this was why he sent Burns and Nordell the other way. He wanted eyes on both roads at the same time.

  Bassett froze when he heard leaves crunching to his left. He shot up a hand to signal Meeks. Both hunched down and stared through the trees. Bassett squeezed the hilt of his tactical tomahawk when he saw a Jiji coming toward them.

  The last thing Bassett wanted was to be in a firefight. They were out in the open with no backup. Their vehicle was a couple of miles away, which meant they’d be doing some running. He had no doubt Meeks could keep up and likely be able to outrun him, but it wasn’t a great option if you had a couple of hundred pissed off Jijis chasing you. The better choice would be to take him out quietly and leave the area. The Jijis would find him, but they’d be long gone before that.

  The man stopped and unzipped his pants to relieve himself. Bassett turned to Meeks who shrugged his shoulders. It took a minute before he finished and turned back to the interstate.

  Bassett rose up and realized the Jijis had been using this area as a latrine. He motioned to Meeks who scrunched his face and started to move away when he spotted two more Jijis headed their way.

  Chapter 4

  Washington D.C.

  Thomas boarded Mo
rdulfah’s jet and took a seat toward the front. He had never flown in a small jet before and was astonished on how luxurious it was. The Gulfstream G650 was considered the gold standard of business jets. The first-class-style seats, as well as the walls, were wrapped in white leather. The tables, cabinets, trim and door were all mahogany. The thick, deep blue carpet sported gold pin stripping on each side.

  Thomas couldn’t believe his luck when the prince asked him to come along. He knew he had moved up the food chain after the attack as some of Mordulfah’ key men had been killed. It was why Wali had to stay. He didn’t have anyone else he could trust to get the place cleaned up and reorganized.

  Thomas leaned back in the leather seat and thought how promotion by death wasn’t a bad way to move up the company ladder. He was excited because he knew he’d be able to give the Shadow Patriots valuable information from this trip. He hoped it would impress Reese because he had a huge crush on her. He was shocked when she came to see him back in Jackson. He thought he’d never see her again after she had escaped from the mansion with Winters and Sadie. She looked banged up, which made him wonder if she wasn’t fighting with them. He had asked Mister Taylor about her, but he wasn’t forthcoming with any information, which meant they were protective of her. Thomas had heard she attacked a couple of the cops who were prisoners there and wondered why.

  The G650 lifted off the runaway, and Thomas gripped the armrest tightly. He didn’t particularly like flying and trusted smaller jets even less. He tried to push it out of his mind by thinking about, Cara.

  He didn’t know she was dead and had been wondering how she was doing now that she was back with her father.

  It was a daring rescue and a crazy night. All the shooting and chaos had men running around not knowing what to do or where to go. Then the horror among the men when they found out Cara, and the twins had escaped. They were afraid that Mordulfah would exact revenge on them. The death of CC gave him satisfaction because he felt she deserved it after conspiring against, Cara.