A breeze had picked up, too, coming in from the east. It’d be fanning those flames and blowing them straight toward the population centers – and the freeway she and her family were on.
Her stomach turned over, and not from hunger this time.
Who could have done such an evil thing? The coastal fires were bad enough – but then to light a second set of fires?
Whoever did this was trying not just to incite terror in the population, but to burn them all to death! And what a terrible way to go! She couldn’t even imagine.
Shuddering, she turned her eyes toward the colorful sky.
Lord Jesus, please get us out of here!
Something like sirens caught her attention. She rolled down her window.
Yep. Definitely sirens.
She gagged. And smoke!
Rolling up the window, she checked her mirrors. Was the emergency vehicle behind her, going her direction, or was it traveling the opposite direction on the other side of the freeway?
It didn’t seem to be getting much louder, so obviously it wasn’t moving very fast. Stuck in traffic like everyone else. Great.
Ahead of her, the motorhome brake lights illuminated, then the RV came to a stop. A moment later, the lane beside her stopped also.
What now?
She radioed her husband. “What’s going on?”
“There’s a wreck,” he said.
“In our lane?”
“No, the right lane. But drivers there are trying to merge in with our lane, so it’s all snarled up.”
“How far ahead?”
“I’d say half a mile or so.”
Katie groaned. Really? It could take an hour to get around it, the way traffic wasn’t moving.
“How are you doing for gas?” Zach asked.
“I don’t even want to look.”
“You can turn off the truck. I’ll let you know when it looks like we’ll be moving again.”
“Seriously? It’s that bad?”
“Afraid so.” He sighed. “I’m gonna put this beast in park and shut it down, too.”
Katie’s bladder had been making hints for a while. “I’m coming up with you for a minute.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I really need to.”
“Oh. Yikes.”
“Out.”
Katie turned off the engine, grabbed her purse and keys, and scrambled out of the pickup. She caught a weird glance from a driver in the next lane, but ignored it, rushing up to the motorhome and letting herself inside.
“Mommy!” Timothy yelled, reaching toward her.
She gave him a kiss on his golden hair, patted Duke, and glanced toward the cockpit. “I’ve gotta use the room. Yell if traffic starts moving.”
“Sure. Make it quick.”
She did.
Then she gave Duke some water, which he lapped up greedily. She grabbed a package of fig bars, gave one to Timothy, and took a couple up to Zach. Dark rings were forming around his eyes.
“You look tired,” she said, settling into the passenger seat.
“Long day.” He reached over and squeezed her hand. “Are you okay?”
She shrugged. “Hanging in there.”
Turning forward, she looked at the snarled traffic. Long lines of red taillights stretched as far forward as she could see.
Nobody was moving.
She could still hear the siren, and it didn’t sound much closer than it had when she’d first heard it. She looked for the wreck, and saw some people out of their cars far ahead on the right side of the road. Hopefully it wasn’t too bad.
Like hers.
She still hadn’t seen the damage done, but she wasn’t in a hurry to go look, either.
As the daylight gave way to dusk, she could make out more than just the three plumes she’d seen earlier. It looked like a dozen or more, as she could see some flames. On both sides of the highway ahead. She reached for Zach’s hand.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been looking at that, too.”
“We’ll have to drive between the fires,” she whispered, glancing back toward Timothy.
Zach swallowed. “I know.”
“They’ll close the highway.”
“Probably.”
Katie scooted to the front edge of her seat. Traffic still wasn’t moving.
“What are we going to do?” she asked.
His deep blue eyes met hers and held them. His answer was one word.
“Pray.”
***
By the time they approached the airport, Alana felt positively carsick.
They didn’t take the main road in, however. The procession of SUVs rushed along a dark street, careened down an alley, burst out onto a brilliantly lit road, and proceeded through a gate, straight onto the tarmac.
Three military planes waited there, lined up nose to tail. But the famous blue and white plane that had brought them from D.C. earlier that day was not in the lineup.
“Where’s Air Force One?” Alana asked.
“It’s already in the air.” The agent on her left turned to her. “Would you unfasten your seatbelt, please?”
The SUV came to a screeching halt beside the first plane. Alana’s fingers fumbled with the seatbelt and finally freed it.
The door flew open, and the agents grabbed her again.
“I can walk myself!” She protested.
They half-carried her from the vehicle anyway, then half-dragged her to steps leading up to the military aircraft.
“Let me do it!” She grabbed the rails and propelled herself up the steep metal steps, with one agent in front of her and several behind her.
Once on board, they hustled her into a seat and “helped” her with her seatbelt again.
Secret Service agents hustled the director of Homeland Security and the Secretary of Defense into seats across the aisle from her. Moments later, the aircraft’s door closed.
“Air Force Two, ready,” an agent spoke into her headpiece.
This wasn’t Air Force Two – at least, not the usual one. But any plane Alana flew on while she was VP would have that designation. She closed her eyes and tried to calm her nerves. An agent strapped into the seat beside her as the aircraft began moving onto the runway.
“I need to know about the bomb.” Alana looked from the nearest agent to the cabinet members. “What have any of you heard?”
“My preliminary info points to California,” the Homeland Security director said.
“Right, that’s all I heard, too,” the SecDef said.
A shudder ran through the aircraft as the engines growled. The runway rumbled beneath them as the plane picked up speed. In an instant, the wheel noise ceased as the plane lifted off.
Moments later, Alana was thrust back in her seat as the jet engines propelled the craft in a rocket-like ascent toward the stars. She gripped the armrests as nausea swirled her stomach.
Staring straight ahead, she waited for the aircraft to level off – which it finally did. Glancing across the aisle, she saw the Homeland Security director looking positively pale. Just like she felt.
“Well.” She straightened in her seat. “That was fun.”
“The faster we climb, the less likely the plane can be hit,” said the agent beside her.
“Where’s my staff?” Alana asked.
“Your chief of staff and your national security advisor are in the plane behind us.”
“And the third plane?”
“Decoy.”
“Oh.” She fought another wave of nausea. “Where’s my phone?”
“I’m sure it was picked up in your room. It’ll be brought to D.C. with all the rest of your belongings.”
Alana glared out the window at the dark night and promised herself she’d never let her phone out of her sight again. It was her lifeline. Her whole world was on that little device, as well as the ability to contact anyone else in the world instantaneously.
It provided all the information she needed, and held all the a
nswers to all her questions.
From now on, she’d never wear any clothes without pockets. She’d have them tailored in if she had to. But that phone was staying on her body.
Forever and ever.
Chapter 15
With stealthy steps, Nadir hurried up the stairs and entered the library, softly closing the door behind him. Reaching behind a group of books in the bookcase nearest the window, he retrieved his secure phone and called Kamal.
“Brother, the airports will likely close soon,” he said. “Have all the teams left?”
“Some are still leaving.”
“They must hurry!” Nadir glanced at the grandfather clock. Time was his enemy today.
“Have no worries,” Kamal said. “Most are long gone.”
“Good.” He paused. “And you, my friend?”
“I am making sure nothing will be found.”
Nadir’s breath caught in his throat. “You must leave! Now!”
“I will. Soon.”
“Call me when you are safely away.”
He ended the call and tucked the phone back behind the books. Everything seemed to be coming together as they had planned, but there were still loose ends. Evidence that Kamal was destroying right now. Escape of all the Jihadis. Nadir’s own flight out of the country.
The library door swung open.
His father stood there, his face drawn and tired.
“I expected to find you here.” He ran his hand along the back of an antique chair. “You have always turned to books to evade your circumstances.”
Nadir said nothing. His father was acting the fool. No reason for Nadir to join him in that.
“We must talk.” His shoulders sagged as he eyed Nadir.
“About what? You struck me.”
“Ah, that –” his father waved his arm and then let it fall limp. “It was your mirth. You were mocking me.”
Again, Nadir held his silence. And again, his father began babbling.
“No, not aloud. It was written in your face!” He frowned. “Anyway, forgive me. It has been a hard day. And only getting worse.”
Worse for the governor of California was not worse for Nadir. And once again, he retained the upper ground by withholding his response to his father’s words.
“We may have to evacuate.” His father’s gaze fell to the oriental rug on the hardwood floor. “Eventually.”
“I anticipated that,” Nadir said. “But you wanted me to stay here, rather than catch my flight.”
“Don’t you understand? You’ll be going with me! Most of the government will be evacuating.”
“Fine, father. I’m already packed.” Nadir crossed his arms. “What else do you want from me?”
***
Katie looked at her lap as Zach prayed for God to move traffic, keep the highway open, and spare lives in the path of the fires.
“Amen,” she agreed as he finished. She glanced out the windshield. Traffic still wasn’t moving.
Zach squeezed her hand. “I’m glad you’re up here with us.”
She smiled.
“Yeah, it’s a little lonely back in the pickup.”
“You could drive the RV,” he teased. “You won’t be lonely with Timothy and Duke.”
She rolled her eyes. Then had an idea.
“Hey! We’ve got a little TV in here. Let’s see what’s on the news.”
“I’m not sure I want our little man to see too much,” Zach said quietly.
“No problem. I’ll give him another snack and let his play on his tablet.”
Zach smiled. “You know all the tricks.”
“Yeah… I’m a terrible mom,” she joked, walking to the kitchen and pulling out a couple of granola bars. “Want something to drink?”
“Cola. Thanks.”
She handed out food and drinks, then turned on the television and flipped through channels until she found one with news.
Zach stayed in the driver’s seat and glanced back, then checked traffic.
A pretty blonde reporter stood in front of what appeared to be a border crossing. It looked like a mob scene – people milling around, vehicles stuffed with people and luggage, people yelling at each other and at officials in uniforms. In the background, there was smoke.
“Oh, goodness!” Katie exclaimed.
“What’s happening?” Zach asked.
“I’m not exactly sure, but it looks crazy. Hold on.” She turned up the volume.
“…opened the northbound lanes to southbound traffic, but they are closed again now,” the reporter, a thin young model with dark-rimmed glasses, glanced over her shoulder before continuing. “There were reports of clashes between U.S. residents and border officials –”
There was screaming and a gunshot on the television, and the reporter stumbled, then fell. Blood oozed from the woman’s blouse.
Katie yelped and planted herself in front of the TV, blocking it with her body. She whirled toward Timothy, but he was looking at Duke, who was gnawing on his chew toy. Her eyes met Zach’s.
“Did you see that?” She whispered.
He nodded. “Did she get shot? On air? LIVE?”
“I think so.” She stared at him, then turned off the television.
A horn blared.
“Traffic’s moving!” Zach shouted. “Hurry!”
Katie grabbed her keys and purse, then rushed out the door. One lane of traffic had just begun moving. Her lane was yet to get that blessing.
Gusty wind blew her hair across her face as she ran back and jumped in the pickup. She turned the key and grabbed her seatbelt.
What was going on at the border?
Why were people fighting?
And who’d shot that reporter?
Another horn blared. Katie glanced around, but couldn’t tell who’d honked, or why. Hopefully they wouldn’t start shooting like the crazies at the border.
Her lane still wasn’t moving. Far in the distance, she could still hear a siren. Didn’t sound like it was going anywhere, either.
***
The descent into D.C. was as abrupt as the climb out of NYC. Alana gripped the arm rest and closed her eyes as the plane dropped out of the sky. Her stomach climbed to her throat and threatened to spill. She swallowed, then breathed through her mouth. Deep, focused breaths.
Finally, the wheels touched down and the flaps engaged, shuddering the fuselage with a roar as they rocketed down the runway toward a sudden stop.
Alana nearly lost her half-eaten dinner.
“Get me out of here.” Shaking fingers dislodged her seatbelt, but she needed a moment before she’d be ready to stand up.
Cool air blasted into the plane as the door opened.
Agents gripped her arms and lifted her from the seat, rushing her toward the exit.
“Do NOT carry me down those stairs!” Alana snapped. “I’ll walk myself!”
With two agents in front of her, and others behind, she gripped the railing and hurried down the portable staircase. As her feet hit the tarmac, agents grabbed her arms and propelled her into a waiting SUV. Moments later, the door slammed shut and the vehicle lurched into motion, rushing into the dark night.
Alana glared into the blackness.
For the very first time, she truly hated being the vice president of the United States of America.
Chapter 16
Nadir brought his luggage downstairs and set it near the door. When it was time to leave, he’d be ready. He retrieved the secure phone from behind the books in the library, turned it off, and hid it inside his suitcase.
For the first time in weeks, it seemed there was nothing to do but wait. The fires were lit, the wind was blowing, and now Kamal was tying up loose ends. It seemed like everything was done, but his mind whirled.
Was there anything he’d forgotten to do? Anything that could make things better? Really, no.
There were other cells besides his that had other jobs in other locations, but his uncle had stressed that each cell must operate in
dependently of the others and not share information. Then, if a jihadi were captured, he’d never be able to divulge details of any other cells.
So Nadir and the other cell leaders reported only to his uncle. His cell had been the largest and had started the fires.
He was pretty certain there were at least three other cells, each with its own task. Had they completed their tasks? Or had they failed?
Or perhaps, they were to begin their work after the fires were set. And of course, there was the big event later this weekend. He had learned of that through a conversation he’d overheard between his uncle and another cell leader.
Perhaps there would be information on the television. He’d watch it on the big screen in the conference room.
Entering the room, he took his father’s chair at the head of the table and clicked the remote. On the opposite wall, the huge screen flicked to life. He flipped through a few channels.
Oh, there was news, alright!
Chaos at the border, chaos at the airports – oh, and the fires, too. He selected the channel that was reporting on the border problems. Apparently there had been a bomb. Perhaps that was the job of terrorist cell #2.
“The border was open, then closed, then re-opened,” the reporter said. “Now, we’re not sure what the official position is, but I can tell you, traffic is not moving right now.”
The camera panned to hundreds of cars jamming the entrance to the border crossings. Horns honked, fists shook, the usual finger was raised in anger.
Nadir leaned back in his chair. The journalist went on, barely containing his hysteria as he described shots fired, a television journalist killed on air, etc. Nadir flipped the channel to the station covering the airport crisis.
A young blonde woman with huge blue eyes stared into the camera and breathlessly recounted the afternoon’s air travel crises.
“All domestic flights inbound to California have been re-routed, and the airports absorbing those extra planes are beginning to flounder. Portland, Las Vegas, Phoenix and even Dallas and Seattle are scrambling to land those flights, process the passengers, and try to get them on to their final destinations, if they were catching connecting flights. Meanwhile, incoming international flights from Asia and South America are also being routed to those same airports.”
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