Minus America (Book 3): Rebel Cause

by Isherwood, E. E.

  After completing their tasks, everyone returned to their cabs.

  “This is it,” he said to himself, putting it in gear.

  Cliff had his truck moving, as did Trish. Kevin was a bit slower getting his trash truck rolling, but soon the four of them slowly drove their big rigs toward the airport.

  He picked up the flare, wondering if he was about to blow himself, and everyone else, to Kingdom Come.

  If this is how it ends, I pray it goes fast.

  Brent removed the cap, touched off the flare to start it, and tossed it onto the floorboard of the passenger seat. By the time it got to the airport, he expected the whole interior of the cab would be up in flames, spiking the chances it would touch off the rest of the tanker when the truck hit a plane or anything else at the target site.

  He gave the rig more gas, working through the gears until he was in third and the truck was moving at about fifteen miles-per-hour. It took a bit of effort to move the cinderblock where he needed it, but once it was on the gas pedal, it wasn’t going anywhere. He patted the five-gallon bucket of buckshot seat-belted into the passenger seat. The last thing he did was link a carabiner onto the steering wheel. It was linked to the copper wire, which was bound to the far door. It would keep the truck pointed in the right direction.

  “Give ‘em hell,” he said to the big rig.

  Brent opened the door and easily jumped off, though his arthritic knees screamed at his insensitivity toward them. As he struggled to his feet, a driverless dump truck rolled by about ten yards to his left. A second tanker went by on his right, spilling fuel by the gallon since its spigot, like his truck’s, was wide open. He could barely see the orange glow of the flare in the other cabin.

  “Don’t stop now!” he yelled to his friends as loud as he dared. He’d planned it so each person would launch four trucks. He figured they could do one per minute, easily, but more than that would increase their risk of getting caught or having something go wrong. He liked to have a wide margin of safety for his people.

  Three minutes later, sixteen giant trucks lumbered across the pre-dawn expanse of Amarillo soil toward bright “hit me!” lights on the horizon. As they stood there watching the shapes move away, he likened them to deadly torpedoes dropped in the water, heading for the enemy aircraft carrier.

  “Let’s hope the others got their trucks launched,” Trish remarked.

  “I didn’t hear a premature explosion, so I guess Carter didn’t screw it up,” Cliff laughed.

  “Yeah, maybe he didn’t burn down his dad’s place, after all,” Kevin agreed.

  “You were all innocent, the way I heard it,” Trish joked, coming out of her shell a little.

  “We’re all guilty tonight,” Brent cautioned. “Let’s get the hell out of here, guys. Cliff, you take Kevin with you. I’ll drive with Trish.” He wanted to watch the explosion to see if they’d succeeded, but the fire would soon follow the spilled fuel back across the field. It would effectively create an arrow pointing to where the attack had come from. “Move out!”

  Once he and Trish were on the road, he looked in his rearview mirror almost constantly for the next five minutes. If the trucks kept pace and stayed on course, they should have crossed the two miles in less than ten minutes. As they sped into the empty city, he began to wonder if all the torpedoes had missed.

  Trish watched her side mirror constantly. “Will we even see it?” she wondered aloud.

  “I would think—”

  The horizon behind them glowed for an instant, like a single burst of lightning had struck. A few seconds later, when it didn’t show up again, he was convinced the attack had fizzled. Maybe the flares didn’t touch off the big tanks of gasoline, or the buckets of shrapnel didn’t fly through the air and blow apart neighboring planes, or the trucks blew up before they reached the target…

  Before he could voice his misgivings, a second light made a more substantial impression in his mirror. A plume of fire rose up like a miniature nuclear bomb had gone off. It kept growing bigger in his mirror, causing him to wonder if they were in any danger. Despite the threat of being chased, or getting hit with flying debris from miles away, he had to stop the car.

  “What are you doing?” Trish asked with surprise.

  “We just hit them back. I’m going to take a minute to enjoy it.” He kept the car running but opened his door and stepped outside.

  Secondary explosions ripped through the airport, each sending up new plumes of fire that joined the big one towering above the others. The shockwave of each new blast pushed against his face, and he heard and felt the rumble of the deadly explosions. An experience he found strangely comforting.

  He gave the airport the finger. “That’s what you get when you mess with Texas.”

  CHAPTER 22

  Minot, ND

  Ted woke up to the sound of motorcycles on the road outside. Emily was asleep next to him on one of the throw pillows and she stirred at his movement.

  “Someone’s here!” he whispered.

  The roar of the bikes went on for almost a minute. He ran to the front window of the store, rifle in hand, and found Meechum and Kyla already looking outside. He had to shield his eyes from the sunshine, rising low in the southeast. The last few bikes went by on the rural, two-lane road. The flat terrain let him see there were at least a hundred bikers riding on heavily-modified machines. They carried a strange tank behind the driver’s seats. They looked a little like giant vacuum cleaners.

  He tapped Meechum on the shoulder. “Were these the first ones to go out?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “There hasn’t been a single vehicle all night.”

  He looked to the left, toward the air base, and noticed a smaller group of riders approaching. They slowed as they got close, giving him pause. “These guys are stopping.”

  Emily had come up behind him. “What’s happening?”

  There were seven guys in two rows behind the leader. They were dressed in black uniforms, though he saw no flags or other designation as to what nation they worked for. The leader waved to his followers, and Ted was sure they were coming into the food store parking lot.

  “No,” he whispered, clutching the rifle.

  As they reached the turnoff to the store, the leader gave his bike a little gas and turned into a lot across the street. A fast-food burger joint sat diagonally to the food store on the other side of the two-lane roadway.

  “Phew,” Kyla exhaled.

  “We have to assume they’ll come in here. We’ve got to hide,” he insisted.

  “We can fight,” Kyla said with determination in her voice.

  It warmed his heart to hear her say it, but the time wasn’t right. If they killed someone so close to the base, it wouldn’t be hard to find who did it. Plus, there were at least a hundred motorcyclists available to hunt them down. The smart play was to hide.

  Ted tried to be diplomatic. “And we will, Kyla, but right now, we have to lay low. Our mission is to get into the air base, not protect some little mom and pop shop.”

  Meechum looked outside while hiding behind a shelf full of two-liter Mountain Dew bottles. She tapped on one to get his attention. “They’re off their bikes. What are they doing with that equipment?”

  The men had parked their bikes in a semi-circle around the burger shack, leaving about fifty feet between the bikes and the structure—enough room they’d have to shout if they wanted to talk to someone inside. For a few seconds, Ted thought they were the police and had come to collect a criminal, but then one of the men used his vacuum cleaner hose to spray a clear liquid on the colorful red siding. The others kicked on their sprays an instant later, and then the streams all erupted in flames, which followed the spray until it engulfed the building.

  “Oh, hell no!” Emily growled. “We’re not going out like that.”

  Ted couldn’t breathe for a few seconds. He could almost feel the heat of those weapons from across the street. Fear reached up from the tiled floor and paralyzed him f
or a short time. Dying by fire was practically the worst fate he could imagine.

  The president touched his arm, which pulled him immediately out of his paralysis. “Ted, what do you want to do?”

  He gave her a curt thank-you nod. “We stay here, for now, but I don’t think we can afford to let those guys get close. Those flamethrowers have insane range. We’d be on fire before we knew they were here.” He had a sudden nightmare about other bikers parked behind the country store. Even at that moment, they could be dialing up their hardware to splash liquid fire through the back door.

  “Meechum, you check the back. Make sure we have a path to run if things get too crazy. The car is back there if we need it.” Though every parking lot had abandoned vehicles, he’d wanted to keep his car closer to the structure. His worry had paid off.

  It only took the fire starters a few minutes to ensure the entire fast food joint was engulfed in flames. They even walked around to the side and torched the drive-through ordering station. When they were done, they holstered their weapons and gave each other high-fives.

  “Here we go,” he said. “If they come over here, we’ll have to—” He cut himself short when the leader started his bike, revved his motor, and did a wheelie across the highway. He put the front wheel down when he came onto the lot for the store.

  “Shit,” he said with forced calm. “This is happening.” He looked at Kyla. “Go get Meechum. Bring your rifle and any spare ammo.”

  He had a minute alone with Emily. They watched in silence as the rest of the men got on their rides and crossed the street. He kept on the lookout for more bikes up and down the highway, but there didn’t seem to be any others close by. That was great, but they still had to deal with the seven right in front of them.

  “Can we do this?” Emily asked quietly.

  Ted met her eyes. “We have to.”

  Meechum’s heavy boots clopped on the tile floor as she ran back to her spot behind the soda. “What’s the plan?” she asked.

  Ted gave Emily a serious glance, then looked to the Marine and his arriving niece. It wasn’t much of a defensive unit, but they had the element of surprise on their side. The men in the lot hopped off their bikes and still high-fived each other like they’d won the Superbowl, but there wasn’t much time to organize his friends.

  “We’re in a line,” he said matter-of-factly. “When they get ready out there, only shoot at the bastards closest to your end. When they get their flamethrowers ready, we’ll try to drop them all at once.” It would be tough, since there were four of them and seven of the enemy. He’d thought about shooting them as they came into the lot, but he worried the chaos would give one of them a chance to dive behind a parked car or ride away. If he waited until they were primed for the attack, they would be vulnerable.

  “Spread out a little.” He motioned for the women to give about five feet between each other. What he didn’t say was that if one of the guys shot a spray of flames, it couldn’t get them all at once. If he’d had more time to prepare, he might have sent someone onto the roof, or the side of the building, to give multiple angles of attack. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a second to spare. He had to summarize years of marksmanship into a few canned phrases, mostly for Kyla’s benefit, he assumed. “Aim for the big part of their body, not their heads. Breathe steady. Squeeze—”

  Kyla interrupted. “I’ve been trained by the best, Unk. I’ll do you proud.”

  He was a proud uncle, no doubt about it. Her mom would be yelling bloody murder at him for putting her daughter in such a dangerous spot once again, but he figured even she’d be proud of how Kyla was able to defend herself.

  “On three,” Ted said quietly. He aimed his rifle center of mass on the guy giving the orders, right in the middle of the seven men.

  “One…”

  The black-clad figures slowly moved into their positions, creating a semi-circle in front of the store. Their leader waved back and forth to spread them out from each other, the same as Ted had done to his force.

  “Two…”

  Once he seemed happy with the deployment, the head guy lifted his flamethrower wand.

  “Three!”

  East St. Louis, IL

  Tabby faced the unusual tank with her spine straight and without flinching. The hum created by the machine made her eyeballs shake in their sockets, and her stomach wanted to return its contents, but she wasn’t giving anyone the satisfaction of seeing her show fear. To make the point, she stood in front of Audrey and Peter.

  “Come on! Just try it!” she screamed, knowing it was insane.

  The teens had been holding hands, but each also put a palm on her shoulders. She heard them saying “I love you,” to each other, adding to the sense it was all about to end.

  At least we’ll go out together.

  The tank’s energy seemed to peak, and she believed it was about to zap her, but it abruptly shut off. The heightened tension and unsettling vibrations left her legs wobbly. The three of them had to hold each other up.

  That was when the men in black jumpsuits ran in.

  “Who are you?” Tabby yelled, still fighting the effects of the machine. “We demand to see someone in charge! Why did you kill my dogs?”

  The strange men didn’t reply. They searched them for weapons then dragged the three of them into a Humvee parked outside the warehouse. Hours went by as they were transferred to different modes of transportation, including a plane, but they finally ended up in what seemed like a prison van.

  “Are we there yet?” Peter laughed from within the small cabin of the vehicle. It seemed like they were in the enclosed back of a pickup truck, but it was small, and quiet, and with barely enough room for the three of them, so she couldn’t say for sure. A small window on the back door let in a little morning light, but it was frosted, preventing them from seeing where they were.

  The ambush in the warehouse had scared them all, but the brush with death affected them in different ways. For Tabby, after the tank-like machine didn’t vaporize her and the kids, the emotional unpacking only made her glad the kids were still alive. She hadn’t even tried to fight back against the men. Once captured, she maintained reserved vigilance, sure there would be a chance to escape.

  “No, we’re not,” Tabby said for the tenth time. “You’re worse than a child,” she sniped, not feeling the least bit like a tour guide or protector at that moment. She turned to Audrey, wondering if she would defend her boyfriend. The young teen had become quiet and withdrawn, saying almost nothing the entire night. There wasn’t even a flash of her normal spunky attitude present. It was like she’d given up.

  Peter, however, was the exact opposite. He couldn’t stop laughing at the fact they’d been captured, chucked into a plane, and flown to an unknown location. When the men in black outfits threw them in the truck after the plane landed, he acted like it was the final insult. He puked out curse words for several minutes, but there was no evidence anyone heard him. From there, he settled for annoying Tabby with his are-we-there-yet routine.

  They were on the road for at least half an hour when the vehicle leaned a little to one side, slowed, then turned off. The new pitch made the three of them slide to the right side. “We’re there!” Peter yelled.

  The machine turned back on, and the vibration suggested the driver was trying to reverse. After the attempt failed, the machine went forward a bit, then back, as if rocking out of an icy patch of road, though it didn’t feel cold outside.

  The effort went on for a few minutes before the truck stopped moving. The silence was disconcerting to Tabby, since there was no way to know what was out there. They could be at the bottom of a ravine, or along the edge at the top. It was a little like being in the pitch-black waters of the Bonne Terre Mine. If you didn’t have a point of reference, there was no way to know where you were or even if you were right-side up.

  Finally, a voice spoke from a small speaker on the ceiling. “You need to get out and push.” He did not sound happy. />
  Peter wasn’t pleased, either. “Push it yourself!” He looked at Tabby with a bemused expression. “Can you believe these guys? It’s just like before. Like we’re going to help them kill us!”

  She wondered about that. They could have easily killed them with the tank’s electro-beam, or whatever force killed Deogee and Biscuit, but it didn’t fire at them. When the soldiers in black came in, they could have killed her and the kids without breaking a sweat. The only logical answer was they’d been captured for a reason.

  The speaker voice returned. “I’m opening the back door. Get out, but do not run. If you do…well, you don’t want to know what we’d do to you.” The voice sounded overly dramatic, like they were hoping to scare them into compliance.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Tabby declared.

  The door clicked and swung open, letting in bright rays of sunshine. She fought against it until her eyes adjusted. When she climbed out, the scenery was breathtaking, despite putting her foot in six inches of mud. “We’re heading for the mountains,” she said dryly.

  Peter helped Audrey out of the vehicle and carried her across the mud to the paved road next to it. Tabby followed, if only to get out of the slop, too.

  “Donny wouldn’t have liked this,” Peter said in a reflective tone. “He wouldn’t have wanted to get his fancy shoes muddy.”

  She and Audrey chuckled, knowing it was true.

  “I wish they wouldn’t have taken my police belt,” Peter continued, speaking in a more upbeat fashion. “My pants keep falling down.”

  That got them all laughing again.

  The new position gave them all a chance to see what they’d been traveling in. The truck wasn’t like anything she’d seen on the roads before. It looked like a little milk truck. It had the cargo space in the back but didn’t have a driver’s compartment. It had been sealed off, without windows, like it wasn’t necessary. There was a grid of solar panels spread out on the top, giving her the final clue about what it was.