Extinction Level Event (Book 4): Rescue

by Jones, K. J.

“You seen all they got? All them helicopters and shit? We’d be dead fast, quick, and in a hurry. Being dead, you definitely ain’t having your bow.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah. Go and get your shit ready, boy.”

  “You too.”

  Chris wanted to chuckle, but it didn’t come out.

  2.

  Tears streamed down Phebe’s face as she shoved clothes into a camping rucksack. “Can’t believe this.”

  “I know, babe.”

  “Look at the nursery.”

  “I know.”

  He stopped packing and went to her. She cried against his shoulder. Then pushed him away.

  “We don’t have time for this. We gotta go. Where’s my paperwork?” Her mind had stopped working.

  “Here.”

  She made sure to pack it securely. Her marriage certificate. The guardianship paper for Tyler. Her only means of identification, which was the refugee island ID.

  No matter what she told herself, the crying kept going.

  “Got your post-natal vitamins?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m so sorry, baby.”

  His duffel bag packed, he had the special cane laid on top of it.

  He saw her look at it.

  “Double duty.” He reached for it. “They need to see me disabled, so they don’t try any re-up shit on me. And …” He pressed things on the wood below the handle. Little invisible buttons hidden in the design.

  To her amazement, the handle pulled out. A sword attached to it.

  “As long as they don’t x-ray it, we got at least one weapon.”

  To his surprise, she hugged him.

  “It’s okay, babe. I won’t let anything too shitty happen to us.”

  He knew better than to promise things would be okay.

  “What else?” she asked. “What do we need?”

  Looking around the room just made her sadder.

  “Put your ZBDUs in there,” he said.

  “Shit. Yeah. Okay.”

  “Got room for the Molly in your bag?”

  “We have to leave her behind?” More tears. A sob.

  “It’s okay. We’ll get through this.”

  “I wish we could run and hide.”

  3.

  Peter stood on the hangout deck of the Molly. “I need to prep her to stay in the elements.”

  “There isn’t time.” The soldier guarded him.

  “Shit. Can I have a moment with her?”

  “Your boat more important than your life, sir?”

  “Oh, geez. Bro, you just don’t get it. We are fine where we are.”

  “The look of things, you are killing each other.”

  “We have chickens and vegetable plants growing.”

  Peter went into the cabin and made sure all windows and hatches were closed. It would not help, he knew. Depending on how long they were gone. An abandoned boat on the water would be subject to the elements in the extreme. The trawler already needed a barnacle removal hull cleaning. Hurricane season in the summer. Coastal South Carolina was in one of the two hurricane alleys of the United States.

  “We had a good run, girl.”

  The memories walked through. Julio. Dock Cat. Syanna. Jimbo played cards on the hangout deck. Jackson’s visit when he was heading south to the island.

  Peter remembered working on the trawler in his backyard in Georgia when he first bought her. Sweating buckets. Shirtless. Drinking beer between sanding wood. His black Labrador rested in the shade the boat provided.

  He remembered coming on board for the first time with crutches. His dad had the boat brought to Boston. It was seriously cold that day he came onboard.

  Chris playing Xbox with him. Shoving and insulting each other as they tried to win.

  He clenched his eyes shut for a moment to push down the pain.

  “We gotta go, sir.”

  “Okay, Mol. Try to hold it together. I’ll come back for you.”

  He placed on the counter the Ziplock bag containing his brother’s memorabilia. It seemed befitting.

  The cabin door lock was busted. He closed it as best he could.

  Following the soldier along the dock, he looked back and saw the ghosts of his friends on the hangout deck. An urge to weep. He swallowed it down.

  Soldiers swarmed the yacht docked nearby. They believed they caught a bad guy, who had been worthy of killing so many people and animals to get.

  He sighed. More worry for Eric. No sign of him.

  Phebe and Tyler stood at the end of the dock. Her arm over Tyler’s shoulders. One bag each.

  His new family awaited him.

  She hugged him immediately, seeing the pain in his eyes.

  “I love you, hotshot.”

  “I love you, Irishman.”

  “Good.” He kissed her. “Now, you, midget.”

  “We really gotta leave the Molly?” His hazel eyes swam. “I can’t do this, Sully.”

  He had never seen the kid cry before.

  “It’s okay.” He hugged Tyler, and, surprisingly, the kid wanted it.

  Phebe sandwiched Tyler in a family hug.

  The trawler had been Tyler’s anchor home since he was rescued from Walmart.

  “I don’t wanna go. Make them stop this.”

  “Oh, little buddy, I wish I could. I really do.”

  Tyler stepped away and turned to the soldiers guarding them. “What if we refuse to go?”

  “Don’t,” one said. “We have orders to take you by force if need be.”

  “See?” Peter said.

  “No. This is wrong. You never helped us.” Tears streamed down his face. “You never helped any of us!”

  “Stop. Please. Ty.”

  “This is wrong! I don’t wanna be part of the United States no more. This is our tribal land.”

  “Sir, please control the minor.”

  “Come on, Ty. Let’s get to everyone else. They need us. We have to be strong for them. Huh?”

  “For them?”

  “Yeah. And for Pheebs. Look at her, man. You’re getting her more upset than she already was. We’re warriors. We keep it inside.”

  Peter expected some sound from Phebe in objection. A glance at her. Her gaze was on the sky, fighting her own emotions.

  “C’mon, family.”

  “Am I your kid, too?”

  “You are, Ty. You’re my son from now on.”

  “I got cool parents, right?”

  Phebe’s gaze lowered to Tyler. “You sure do.” Tears escaped her eyes. She hugged him tightly, then kissed him on the cheek.

  They hoisted their bags onto their shoulders.

  “C’mon, family.” An arm around each of them, Peter walked them behind the soldiers.

  Big Moe croak roared.

  Phebe leaned her head against Peter’s shoulder. “We were doing so well.”

  “We will again wherever we’re going. We are strong.”

  4.

  Nia opened the rooster’s enclosure. “I’m sorry, boy.” He ran towards the hens, not understanding.

  Yellow chicks followed their mothers around. Chirping innocently and pecking at the ground.

  “We’ll leave the door open.” Brandon kept his distance from the rooster. “They can get out and do their thing.”

  “I’m not stupid. They won’t survive.”

  “Nothing we can do, Nie.”

  She sighed. “I just want my mother back.”

  Jayce raised his hand for her to take. She hurried to it, grabbing her rucksack on the way. The same rucksack she used when escaping the refugee island. The siblings walked towards the faux door, hand-in-hand.

  “You got your ZBDUs?” Brandon asked Emily.

  “Packed. Not much else matters.”

  “Underwear.”

  “Got all of it.”

  He put his arm around her. She looked up at the house.

  “So much work, for nothing.”

  “We’ll be okay.”

  “That�
��s the stuff adults say to children, Bran.”

  “Would like to hear it myself.”

  “We’ll be okay. Does that help?”

  “Let’s go. Get this over with.”

  “Maybe they’ll execute us.”

  “Is that a positive?”

  “Better than how I feel right now. I’m getting tired of facing new shit and starting over again.”

  “We’ll be okay.”

  “Where’s Stanton?” Mazy asked. Her bag at her feet.

  Ben waited for her. “Did he already go?”

  “No. I was waiting for him. Did y’all pack your ZBDUs?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I gotta find him.” She turned to her guard. “We’re missing someone inside. He’s not the most emotionally stable. I gotta find him, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’ll go with you.”

  “Didn’t he have a guard?” she asked as they entered.

  “I don’t know, ma’am.”

  “Stanton,” she yelled.

  “Guys, need help looking for this guy,” the soldier radioed. “Over.”

  They waited outside for Mazy and the soldiers to find Stanton.

  “What about the horses?” Ben asked.

  Brandon shrugged. “They were at Battery Park grazing.” He shook his head. “They’re on their own.”

  Soldiers suddenly rushed into the house.

  “What’s happening?” Ben asked their guards.

  “A suicide inside.”

  “Oh, no.” Emily hugged Brandon. “No.”

  “Oh, please, Jesus, no,” said Jayce.

  As Mazy exited the house, her face said it all. “He’s gone. They’re trying CPR, but …” She shook her head.

  Ben lifted his arms. She went to him for an embrace.

  “How?” he asked. “So fast?”

  “The straight razor.”

  “Let’s go. We don’t need to see this.”

  “Could you leave this door open,” Brandon said to the soldiers. “Let the chickens get out. Please.”

  They nodded.

  “He’ll want to be buried at the old cemetery,” Mazy said.

  “If possible,” a guard responded. “I’ll pass it along.”

  “Thank you.”

  “His religion, ma’am?”

  “Christian. Protestant. Probably Methodist. His, um, family is buried there.”

  “I’ll pass it on, ma’am.”

  “Thank you.” She sighed.

  With their one-each bags, they passed through the faux doorway for the last time. Then walked diagonally across the street towards the faded white brick building – Phebe’s pee building – and the park behind it.

  The deserted, silent historic city had become overwhelmed with sounds of large motors. Hummers driving around. Helicopters overhead.

  Arriving at the park, Chinooks dominated the overgrown grass. They had landed as many as they could safely fit in the space.

  “Remember which bags are yours,” a soldier yelled.

  They dumped their duffels and rucksacks in a pile.

  Soldiers motioned them towards a Chinook.

  “Good I put my papers on me.” Tyler lifted his shirt to show the water-proof pouch he was given by the Navy. It held his guardian papers and the refugee ID.

  “Oh no,” said Phebe. “I put my pouch in my bag. Can I go get it?”

  “No,” said Peter. “I have my copy in my pocket. He has his. We’re all still legally yours.”

  “Okay.”

  But she scowled as she looked back at her rucksack, wishing she had her own copies. Panic threatened in her chest. After being masters of their own fate, the loss of all independence terrified her.

  Tan Hummers arrived and parked. People got out.

  “Where’s Mama?” Nia asked. “You see Mama?”

  The Jackson kids still held each other’s hands as if fearing they’d be yanked apart.

  “No.” Jayce craned his neck to see each person. “Oh, no. Those are a lot of white people.”

  “I don’t see my father,” said Karen.

  Chris roared, “Hell no! You ain’t putting them near us.”

  “Calm down,” a soldier ordered.

  “Nuh-uh. They the enemy.”

  “Get back in line and calm down!”

  The white supremacist enemy tribe yelled back, pelting them with profanity.

  “Chris,” Peter yelled. “Stop it. We got problems.”

  Mazy just told him about Stanton.

  “Anybody got eyes on Eric?” Peter yelled over the commotion. All he wanted was his group collected together.

  Headshakes.

  “Where’s Matt?” he muttered. His brows furrowed with worry.

  The supremacists and Chris were ordered at gunpoint to shut up and get on their assigned helicopters with their groups. Everyone settled down and resumed the march.

  “Do not put these two groups together,” a guy with an officer bearing barked.

  As they approached their Chinook, Peter stopped in front of the officer-type. “We have three members of our group that were visiting another group, ah, in central North Charleston. Ah, the majority-black group. Uhm, in the center of North Charleston.” He didn’t know how else to describe the other tribe.

  “You all are going to the same place. You can find each other there. Move along, sir.”

  Their turn to get on board the helicopter.

  “Squeeze in next to Chris,” Peter directed Tyler.

  Wide, exploring eyes for all those who had never been in a helicopter before.

  Tyler climbed up and sat. Then Phebe beside him and Peter took the outside seat. They buckled their seatbelts.

  Chris, Brandon, and Ben all took outside seats in a sense of protecting the others.

  Eric was not with them.

  Ben took Mazy’s hand, gave it a squeeze, and an attempt to smile at her.

  “Oh, God,” she said. “I hope there’s a way to contact home in this place.”

  “It’s a base. They’ll have phones.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening. After all this.”

  “Maybe it means we’re going home.”

  “Do we dare to dream?”

  “I told you we’d get out of the Zone,” said Brandon. “I told you.”

  “Where’s my home?” asked Emily.

  He squeezed her shoulders. “With me. In Montana. If you want, that is. I’d be honored if you would come with me. Maybe, ya know, as my wife.”

  “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “Yeah. I mean, if you say yes, then I am.”

  “In a helicopter?”

  “I can’t get down on my knee. But I can later.”

  “How about you ask me later when I’m not going through a thing?”

  “Okay. But only if you say yes.”

  The engine turned over. Rotors began to swirl. Soon, they couldn’t hear the person next to them without yelling in each other’s ears.

  5.

  Chinooks were usually used for cargo, and they were built for lack of comfort. Though seats had been bolted in, there were no luxuries. And very few windows. Peter had one. Horizontally, all he saw were more Chinooks, probably carrying the other tribes. He craned his neck to see down to the ground.

  All the many rivers and islands looked well enough. But scorched earth took over the flat terrain. Everything was gone. Buildings. Houses. Trees. Not a speck of green left.

  He gulped.

  Phebe squeezed his hand. Her eyes inquired.

  He shook his head. Too dreadful to describe.

  Her brows knitted together. Was it really that bad?

  He nodded.

  She sighed and looked at the floor. What was next, she wondered.

  The land looked as if a nuclear bomb had been dropped. Peter couldn’t stomach seeing anymore. He sat back in his seat and looked at familiar faces. Each one, fearful, anxious, and nervous.

  The amount of time flying seemed forever.
Too long for even the bravest among them to prevent worried thoughts from creeping in. They could not preoccupy themselves with talking to each other. No stupid jokes and snarky insults to enable compartmentalization.

  The flight pattern changed. Peter craned his neck to see down. Chris did the same on the opposite end of the row.

  Remnants of a city. The fleet of Chinooks circled a base.

  Peter gasped.

  Chris leaned forward to look at him across Tyler and Phebe.

  A set of headphones hung on the wall behind the seats. Peter grabbed them.

  “Pilot, can you hear me?”

  “That I can.”

  “What the hell’s with all the zoms around the base wall?”

  “It’ll be okay. Those poor souls haven’t gotten through the defenses. Prepare for landing.”

  He looked at Phebe. She read the alarm on his face.

  “What?”

  Instinctively, she put her arm around Tyler to protect him.

  “What’s going on?” the kid yelled in her ear.

  “I don’t think we’re landing in Kansas, Toto.”

  “Huh?”

  She stared into Peter’s eyes.

  Tyler yelled in her ear again, “We’re not going alright, are we?”

  Peter leaned into her and yelled in her ear. “Zoms. Surrounding a walled base.”

  Her eyes widened. “How many?”

  He raised his fingers.

  “Five?”

  “Five. Deep.”

  She gasped.

  “What?” Tyler could feel her tense beside him.

  “We’ll be alright.” She hugged him to her. “We’ll –"

  “You’re lying. You’re a bad liar.”

  “Fine.” She repeated the news into his ear.

  “Fuck,” he said. “They took my riffle away.”

  “So glad the government finally rescued us.” She closed her eyes.

  The helicopter descended.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Watch for ELE Book Five. At an Army base surrounded by zoms outside the walls, the group faces the greatest survival challenge yet. And separation.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

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