Burning Nation

by Trent Reedy

  “I … I don’t know,” said Bagley. “Can I think about it? I mean —”

  “Yeah, you can think about it until we get to Freedom Lake,” Cal said. “After that, in or out.”

  “No choice,” said Luchen. “I’m not giving up.”

  Kemp and Herbokowitz said they were in. “Sparrow?” Kemp asked.

  She only nodded.

  Eventually everyone agreed to come with us. I slowed down as the highway went into a long, rising curve. The road would snake up the mountain, go through a tunnel about halfway to the summit, and then wind back down before it straightened out and headed southeast into Freedom Lake. The Beast’s tires screeched when I took a tight turn too fast.

  “It’s too quiet,” I said finally. “I can’t take this tension.” I turned on the radio. A deep computerized voice was speaking.

  “… Idaho residents. All Idaho military, militia, and law enforcement personnel must surrender to federal authorities immediately. All Idaho civilians must disarm, remain in their homes, and await instructions from federal authorities. Failure to comply will be met with deadly force. Continue to monitor this frequency for further information. This message will repeat. Attention Idaho residents. All Idaho military—”

  I tried to change the station, but the same message was all over the dial, the only thing on the air. “Sorry.” I shut the radio off and felt around under my seat for my dad’s old CD. I’d added over a thousand songs to my collection in the cloud, but with our Internet shut off, I couldn’t get to any of them. “Gotta have some music.” Nobody answered me, and a few seconds later the hard guitars of AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” came on, sounding a little off since one of my speakers was still busted from the last time I’d been on the run from the Fed.

  “How old is this music?” Sweeney asked.

  “Hey, this is some good stuff,” said Herbokowitz.

  I turned up the volume and the heat, as we were all shivering in the late November cold, rounding Silver Mountain in my truck full of holes.

  “Hey, turn it down,” Sparrow said about halfway through the song.

  “Just let him play it,” Sergeant Kemp said.

  “No, listen! Out there!” Sparrow shouted.

  I turned the music down a little before I heard it — the unmistakable whump-whump-whump of a helicopter. “Oh shit!” I hit the brakes to slow us down enough to shut off the headlights and drive by the light of the moon. “Did they spot us?”

  “Apache’s right on our ass, coming in fast. They know we’re here,” Herbokowitz called from his place in the back.

  “They’re gonna light us up!” Cal shouted. “We should ditch the truck. Go on foot.”

  “No, hang on! I got this!” I flicked the headlights back on, cranked the music, and floored it. “Come on, you Fed sons of bitches. Eyes on me. Come and get me.”

  “The tunnel?” Sweeney asked.

  “It’s all we got,” I said. To Kemp, I added, “Hey, get that AT4 ready.”

  “Yeah …” Luchen groaned. “Let’s waste the bastards.”

  “You ever fire an AT4?” Herbokowitz asked. I shook my head. “The live rocket’s nothing like that little nine-mil tracer they use for training.”

  “If you get a clear line of fire, the bird will have guns on us too, and they have a lot better weapons,” Sparrow said.

  A new roar tore through the sky above us, and the road in front of us burst with sparks and chunks of pavement. I swerved into the left lane as bits of blacktop peppered the truck.

  “Their weapons aren’t that great,” said Cal.

  “They’re trying to make us stop,” I said. I put the pedal to the floor. The tunnel was in view.

  “They’re speeding up!” Herbokowitz yelled.

  Seconds later, the Apache dropped down out of the sky in front of us, hovering a few feet off the ground.

  “Look out!” Kemp yelled.

  “Nice try,” I said. The gunship hadn’t turned its thirty-millimeter cannon on us yet, so I drove straight for it. My big, heavy truck with its reinforced body traveling at eighty miles an hour, up against this stationary helicopter with its thin hull? I’d knock it back to the mountain if I had to.

  “Badass, dude! You’re playing chicken with an attack helicopter!” Cal yelled.

  The Apache swooped up into the air and we rolled under it. Moments later, we were deep into the tunnel, gunning it around the curve. Finally, I hit the brakes and brought us to a stop.

  “We’re trapped,” Sweeney said.

  “He’ll fly up over the mountain and down to the other end of the tunnel,” I said. “Let’s take the AT4 up the back side of the mountain and blast him.”

  “I’ll fire the rocket,” said Sergeant Kemp. “I’m the only one here without a wounded leg who has actually used the thing before.”

  “I’ll go with you.” I climbed down out of the truck, leaving the keys in the ignition. “Cal, you’re driving. You hear that helicopter blow, you pull forward out of the tunnel and stop to pick us up.”

  “Got it,” Cal said.

  “Right! Let’s go!” I took off at a sprint back the way we’d come. Kemp ran right behind me, carrying the rocket launcher. As we approached the mouth of the tunnel, we stopped to listen for the Apache. Nothing. Only the sound of explosions, like thunder off in the distant night. Someone was still fighting back there. Me and Kemp nodded to each other and ran out of the tunnel, scrambling up the rocky bank on one side. In Idaho, just being in the woods always meant making your way up and down some serious slopes. We moved through the scrub brush up the rocks faster than I’d ever climbed before.

  As we neared the crest of the ridgeline, we could hear the helicopter again. I dropped down behind a boulder and eased my way up to peek over the top. Sure enough, the Apache was hovering about thirty feet above the road and about fifty yards from the mouth of the tunnel.

  “There you are, you Fed bastard,” I whispered. “Can you hit him, Sergeant?”

  “Doesn’t look like I have much choice,” Kemp said. “I’m only going to get one shot at this. If I miss …”

  If he missed, we’d both be dead seconds later when that Apache lit up the whole mountain. Sergeant Kemp moved the covers on the side of the AT4 so the targeting sights popped up. Then he pulled out the safety pin from the back of the launcher, pushed the cocking lever forward, flipped it down, and held the forward safety. He put the weapon on his right shoulder and aimed. For a second I thought about praying that he would succeed, but was it right to pray for someone else to die?

  “Back blast area clear,” Kemp whispered in a tone like here goes nothing. A shrieking whistle ripped the air all around us.

  Then fire burst out of the center of the Apache’s rotors and the bird whipped into a reverse spin as it fell. When it crashed by the side of the road, it seemed to shred apart for a second before it exploded. Kemp and I ducked as pieces of the helicopter pelted the hillside.

  “Got him!” I said. “Let’s go!” We scrambled down the mountain, half climbing, half tumbling, our path lit by the burning wreck of the gunship. When we hit the pavement, the Beast was already there, waiting for us. Me and Kemp squeezed in.

  “Go, Cal, go!” I shouted.

  Wounded and exhausted, we raced on through the night toward Freedom Lake.

  As we rolled into Freedom Lake, I was shocked to see that the town looked like a war zone. Whatever gas was left in the pumps at the Gas & Sip was on fire, but people were still fighting each other to scramble in and out of the shop, trying to get the last of whatever supplies the Fed blockade had left us with. The grocery store was the same. Looters stepped over the unconscious bodies of the two police officers who had been assigned there to enforce rationing. Gunshots echoed from another street.

  “Everyone is out of their minds,” Sweeney said.

  “Panicked,” said Sergeant Kemp. “Like us. They’re realizing we’re on the losing side of … of whatever this is.”

  A cold emptiness dropped
into my stomach. If people were going this crazy before the Fed had even arrived, what would happen after the US Army showed up? No place was safe. “JoBell,” I said.

  “Yeah, we better go get the girls,” said Sweeney.

  “What are you two talking about?” Sparrow asked.

  “Some friends of ours,” Cal said.

  “Wright,” said Sergeant Kemp quietly. “Maybe this isn’t the time for—”

  “I’m going to get them! When the Fed takes over, they’ll be in trouble because of me. I can’t leave them out here. I’ll make sure you’re all safe, and then I’m going to get JoBell and Becca.”

  “Me and Sweeney are coming too,” Cal said.

  “You guys don’t have to —”

  “Shut up,” said Sweeney.

  Cal drove the Beast to the shop, where Schmidty was waiting with the bay door open and a cigarette dangling from his lips. “Well, hurry the hell up, would you?” he said.

  We pulled in and the bay door closed behind us. I hurried to the driver’s seat while everyone else crawled out of the Beast. “Schmidty, we got wounded here! You have to help get them downstairs. We gotta hide.”

  “Don’t get blood on the floor,” Schmidty said. “The Feds are gonna be all over this place, and they’ll ask too many questions if they see blood.”

  “This is your big plan!?” Sparrow yelled at me as she reached to help Luchen out of the truck. “Take us right where the Feds will be looking?”

  “Calm down, Specialist,” Kemp said. He and Schmidty were back at the closet with the secret hatch in the floor. “This is as good a place to hide as any.”

  “It’s better than most,” said Schmidty. “The hatch is damned near impossible to spot when it’s closed. It locks. There’s food and running water down there. Electric if the Feds ever turn the juice back on. A flush toilet. Even a tunnel to escape if you need to. So stop bitching. Wright, cut the engine and get down there!”

  “We have to go get JoBell and Becca at Sweeney’s,” said Cal.

  “Well, you better hurry up!” Schmidty yelled.

  “Don’t forget the drones.” Kemp pulled a bunch of thermal cloaks from his ruck. “If you have to go on foot, wear these to hide from their infrared cams.”

  “You get caught out there and we’re all screwed,” said the first sergeant.

  “Then I won’t get caught,” I said.

  A few seconds later me and my boys were rolling out. I floored it, the Beast roared, and we headed toward the lake and Sweeney’s house as fast as we could. Three times I had to swerve around people running out into the street in the dark. I suppose they might have spotted me better if I’d had the headlights on, but I thought the sound of the engine would have warned them away.

  We pulled into Sweeney’s driveway so fast that the tires skidded when I hit the brakes. With no electricity and the evergreen trees blocking the moonlight, Sweeney’s place was entirely dark. I climbed down out of the truck with my M4 at the ready.

  JoBell’s voice came from the trees. “I have all three of you in my sights right now. If you’re not who I’m looking for, you’re dead.”

  “Kitten, is that any way to talk to your best friends?” Sweeney said.

  I heard JoBell sigh. “Eric, you make me wish I really had a gun.”

  “Thank God you’re all okay.” Becca ran out from the trees. Sweeney and Cal caught her in a hug. She leaned close and looked at the blood on their coats. “What happened? There’s blood everywhere. Are you guys okay?”

  “Shh,” Sweeney said. “We’re cool. Some other guys got hurt. We were helping them.”

  Becca let out a breath of relief. “What happened with the fight?”

  “We lost,” Sweeney said. “Idaho is beat. The Fed will be here any minute.”

  A column of moonlight made my JoBell shine as she came down through the trees, wearing jeans and a Freedom Lake Minutemen sweatshirt. Her long blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. We met on the front lawn, and she slid her hands up through my hair, kissing me hot the way she had after I had been gone for two months at basic training. When we finally separated, I noticed the others watching us. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered.

  “If the Fed is coming,” Becca said, “maybe we should hide.”

  “I got a safe place we can go,” I said. “A bunch of guys from my unit are already there.”

  Gunshots echoed from back toward town.

  “Help me get some stuff.” Becca led Sweeney and Cal into the house.

  “Right!” I said. “Grab what you can. We’re rolling in five minutes.” I started following the others inside.

  “Wait!” JoBell grabbed my arm. “Danny, hang on.”

  “We don’t have a lot of time,” I said.

  “Baby, I’m not coming with you.”

  I froze. “What?”

  “I’m not going to become some kind of rebel, Danny. I went on that blockade run to protect you and help your mother. I won’t get involved in this war by hiding with you. And you shouldn’t let Becca get into this either. You gotta hide. I get that. But if Idaho is beat and the Feds have won, why should Becca and I join up now?” Tears welled in her eyes. “Anyway, you have a better chance if you have fewer people to worry about, fewer people eating your food and stuff.”

  “But you shot at the Feds on that border run,” I said. “They’ll be after you.”

  “It’s been two months since that happened. Dad said if the Feds were going to press charges about that, they’d have done it already. Plus, they’ll have plenty of other people to deal with, active fighters. I’ll be low on their list.” She looked down. “Even if they are after me, I’m not about to add to the list of charges they might raise against me by joining some rebellion. I’m … I’m keeping out of this, Danny. On moral grounds.”

  “JoBell, this is stupid. Come on. We’re staying together.” I took her hand and tried to pull her along, but she threw herself at me and hugged me. We kissed, and then she kissed my cheek. She took a step back and touched the new stains all over her sweatshirt that I’d pressed on her from the blood of all our wounded.

  “You really want to drag Becca and me into this?” she said. “I never wanted this war, or to be a part of it, or for you to be part of it.”

  “You think I wanted this?”

  “No, of course I don’t.”

  “You’re all I ever wanted,” I said.

  “I know. I love you. And when things cool down, we can be together again.”

  “I can’t believe —”

  JoBell stepped close and whispered, “Becca won’t understand. She’ll want to go with you guys. Don’t let her. Please, Danny. Don’t drag her into this.”

  I wiped the tears from her cheeks. The others had come out of the house, but stopped in the doorway when they saw us. “I don’t know how long it will be before I see you again,” I said. “If I’ll ever see you again.”

  “You will,” she cried. “Somehow. I promise.”

  “What’s going on?” Becca asked.

  “You and JoBell are staying here,” I said.

  “Like hell they are,” Cal said.

  “We’re sticking together, Danny,” Becca said. “The Fed is coming. We gotta get moving.”

  “No.” I swallowed against the tightness in my throat. “I’m not bringing you two into this.”

  “I’m already in it!” Becca shouted. “I’m staying with the group. My parents are trapped out of state. I have nobody. I’m not going to lose you guys. What did you tell him?” she yelled at JoBell. “I don’t care what she said. I’m—”

  “What the hell did we even come here for?” Cal shouted. “They have to —”

  “It’s my call,” I said, unable to look at JoBell. I waited for Sweeney to argue, but he only nodded. “It’s my shelter. You two are going to stay, in society or whatever you call it. Try to live normal lives. Whatever that means anymore.”

  Becca grabbed my hands, crying. “Danny, don’t do this. Come
on. We’re coming with you.”

  I hugged her. “I’m sorry, Becca. This is the way it’s gotta be. We came out here to say goodbye.”

  JoBell put her arms around Becca and pulled her away from me. “Come on, Becca. It will be okay.”

  “We should go, then,” said Sweeney. “We’re kind of in a hurry.” He hugged both girls together, picked up the box he’d carried from the house, and ran to the Beast.

  Cal stood still, looking pissed off with his fists tight at his side. Finally he snapped out of it. “Bye, girls. Be careful.” He hugged them and joined Sweeney.

  I was the last to say goodbye, and again Becca tried to hold on to me. “Please, Danny. Don’t go.”

  “Goodbye,” I said to them both. Then I pulled JoBell to me for one more kiss. “I love you,” I whispered. The horn honked. “Take care of yourselves.”

  I climbed up into the driver’s seat and sat there for a moment with my fingers on the keys in the ignition. JoBell stopped on Sweeney’s doorstep and looked back at me.

  “Dude?” Sweeney asked from the seat next to me.

  “I’m just worried that I’ll never see her again.”

  “The girls should be coming with us,” Cal said from the back.

  Sweeney shook his head. “JoBell’s made up her mind. You know her. Let’s go, Wright. We gotta hurry.”

  I started the truck and peeled out in reverse, backing onto the highway. Then I clenched my fingers around the steering wheel and hit the gas to head back toward town.

  The road from Sweeney’s wound along through the woods above the shore of the lake. I drove as fast as the Beast would go, right down the middle of the road. We rolled along for several minutes like that, and I was glad things were calmer out here than they were in town.

  Then bright white floodlights lit up the whole road. “UNAUTHORIZED VEHICLE! THIS IS A WELL-ARMED AND ARMORED CONVOY OF THE UNITED STATES ARMY! STOP YOUR VEHICLE IMMEDIATELY OR WE WILL FIRE! THERE WILL BE NO FURTHER WARNINGS!”

  “What is it?” Sweeney asked.

  I couldn’t see anything ahead. The light was blinding. I flipped on my brights and sped up, swerving in what I hoped was a surprise move onto the right shoulder. A machine gun opened up. I could hear the bullets rip through the air to our left. A bunch of what must have been rifles started shooting too. A few bullets pinged the car.