California

by Jamie Lee Grey

  Had he just shot someone?

  Zach was real close to him in the RV.

  Had a drug dealer just shot her husband?!

  ***

  “This is Presidente Gonzales.” The Mexican leader’s voice rumbled into the room as if he were standing right in the PEOC with the U.S. team.

  “Yes, Mr. President. What can you tell us about those ports of entry?” Basilia asked.

  Alana pulled a gold-plated pen from her briefcase, though she didn’t intend to use it. It gave her something to do with her hands as she listened to the conversation on speakerphone.

  “They are chaos!” He said. “We have been overrun by your people! I have called up the army.”

  “WHAT?” Basilia’s cheeks burned red. “No. You keep those ports open!”

  She looked up, straight into Alana’s eyes, as her face revealed her realization she had overstepped with the foreign leader.

  “We are under a nuclear threat!” The Mexican growled. “You were supposed to provide detection equipment on your side, and that is not happening. Everyone is thundering across our border like a herd of elephants!”

  “Our people are burning to death!” Basilia leaned over the phone. “And some of yours, as well!”

  “We cannot afford a nuclear attack.” President Gonzales lowered his voice. “And who knows who is in the mass of vehicles rushing into our country? Criminals? Terrorists?”

  “So what is your plan, exactly?” She asked.

  “The army will bring order,” the Mexican president responded. “If your bomb detection teams are in place and functioning, we will consider processing more traffic. If not….”

  He let his sentence drop, but his meaning was obvious.

  “WHAT?” A look of fury chased one of panic across Basilia’s face. “You can’t – you can’t do that!”

  For a moment, President Gonzales did not reply, but Alana could imagine what he was thinking. Of course he could. It was his country, after all.

  “We have been bombed. We have lost good men. We have been threatened with a nuclear weapon.” President Gonzales’ voice rose. “My people, and my advisors, say we must close the border now, before we suffer another attack.”

  “But we ARE being attacked!” Basilia’s voice leveled as she bit off each word. “That border with Mexico is the only escape route still available. If you even think of closing it….”

  The president let her threat go unsaid. Her eyes, and Alana’s, fixed on the Secretary of Defense, and he did not flinch. His face, in fact, was an inscrutable mask.

  “Are you threatening me?” President Gonzales growled. “How dare you!”

  “We have a deal, Mr. President. You’ve been well paid.” Basilia’s tone was firm – and the full force of the United States stood behind it.

  Chapter 19

  The pilot yelled into his radio as the helicopter lurched, then plummeted. Time slowed as someone’s backyard rushed toward Nadir’s busted window.

  He wrapped his arms around his head and screamed.

  His seatbelt tore into his hips as they smashed into the ground.

  Time stopped. And then restarted.

  Was he still alive?

  His father was screaming.

  Yes. He was alive. His heart was pounding in his ears.

  The helicopter was busted apart. There were flames, and smoke. Acrid burning filled his nostrils.

  He had to get out of there!

  He fumbled for his seatbelt. Found it. Broke free, and fell forward.

  A strange sizzling noise mixed with his father’s moans.

  There was no sound from the cockpit. Were they dead, or just knocked out?

  The smell… the smoke! He had to get out!

  He was standing on his broken window. The opposite door was above his head. His father dangled from his seatbelt and made the most pathetic noises.

  Nadir knew what was going to happen. He’d seen all the movies. The chopper was going to explode as soon as the flames found the fuel.

  Reaching up, he found the handle and pushed. The door resisted. It was heavier than he expected. He heaved, and it slid.

  He looked over his shoulder at the old man.

  “Father!” He freed him from his seatbelt and his father half-fell, half stumbled into him.

  “Can you stand up?”

  His father nodded, and found his feet.

  “We have to go out that way!” Nadir pointed up toward the smoky sky.

  “Impossible.” His father shook his head, then turned around and pointed toward the cockpit. “We can break out the windows.”

  The state police were slumped in their seats. Nadir crawled between them, then positioned himself on his back so he could kick the glass with both feet.

  It gave on the third try.

  “Good!” His father yelled. “Let’s go!”

  “What about them?” Nadir glanced at the police pilots.

  “Get out! NOW!”

  Nadir moved, aware he was cutting his hands on the glass, but barely feeling it. Once out, he turned and reached for his father, helping him out.

  “RUN! Ruuunn!” The governor yelled.

  Nadir ran, sprinting from the broken bird.

  A deafening boom filled the air, knocking Nadir forward. He tumbled and sprawled across someone’s lawn, landing against a solid wood fence. Pain ricocheted between his left shoulder and elbow.

  With half of his face plastered against the earth, he saw the last moments of the chopper’s explosion. The ball of fire rising into the air, and then smoke, and fire everywhere.

  He pushed himself up on his hands.

  “Father!” He got to his knees, then stumbled to his feet. “Father!”

  There – pinned between a tree and a dog house, his shoes pointing back toward the blast. Nadir staggered toward him like a drunken man. Was he alive?

  A shoe moved. A knee bent. His hand touched the ground, then pressed against it. His shoulders rose as his head turned toward the blazing helicopter.

  Nadir reached him and steadied himself against the tree.

  “Are you alright? Can you stand up?” He dampened his scorched lips.

  “Yes.” His father pushed himself into a kneeling position. “I think so.”

  Nadir offered a hand, which the older man accepted.

  “Good!” He hoisted him to his feet. The flames from the burning chopper were almost as bright as the wildfires bearing down toward them. “Now what are we going to do?”

  ***

  Gripping the steering wheel, Katie yanked herself upright, staring at the gangster-mobile, then the motorhome.

  Was Zach okay?

  She grabbed the walkie talkie.

  “Zach? ZACH!”

  No response. But the RV kept moving forward, and the drug dealer swerved in behind it in the space opened by scared drivers ahead of her.

  “ZACH!”

  “I’m here, babe.”

  “Are you okay? Did that guy shoot you?”

  “I think he shot in the air. Then he pointed it at me.”

  Katie couldn’t breathe. She started babbling and felt herself descending into hysterics. Finally, she formed a real sentence.

  “But you’re okay? He’s right behind you!”

  “We’re alright, Kate.”

  “But – but – but – where’s that cop?!”

  “Take a breath, Kate.” Zach took one himself. “We’re okay.”

  “The cop?” she asked again.

  “I dunno. He’s up ahead somewhere. I see his emergency lights every once in a while, when there’s not a truck or something between us.”

  If she ever cursed, she’d do it now. But she bit her tongue and struggled for air. Her pulse raced in her ears.

  “I can’t believe that just happened.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you’re so calm about it!”

  “I’m kinda in shock.”

  “But you’re so calm!” Katie sucked in a lungful of air. It w
as like she couldn’t get enough.

  It smelled and tasted of smoke, though, so she coughed it out. The wildfires were closer now, and bigger than ever.

  “Thank God you’re alright,” she said.

  “I am thanking him. Totally.”

  “Me too.” After a pause, she asked, “Can we keep the walkies on for a minute? I need to hear your voice.”

  “Sure, babe. Careful what you say, though. Everybody can hear us.”

  “I know that!” She drank the last of the water in her bottle. “I’m just so glad you’re okay!”

  “That makes two of us.”

  A pause filled the airwaves while Katie calmed her nerves and thanked the Lord for sparing her family.

  “I gotta get my mind off this! Let’s talk about something else,” she suggested. “Did you get ahold of your brother this afternoon? And the church folks?”

  “Yeah, I called Evan. I told him what was up, and that we were evacuating, and I asked him to get Mom and Dad and go to the cabin in West Virginia.”

  “What? Why? Galloway is like 250 miles from Baltimore!”

  “I know, and maybe it’s ridiculous… but I’m not sure, Katie. I mean, what if this attack in California is only the first strike?”

  “I hardly think terrorists are going to be torching Baltimore!”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ll just feel a lot better if my family is out of the city this weekend,” Zach said. “It won’t hurt them to go spend a couple days at the cabin.”

  “So they’re actually going?”

  “I’m not sure. I mean, I tried to call Evan again, but couldn’t get through. The phone lines are down.”

  “Down?” Katie’s mind whirled. If the phone lines were down, who knew what was happening on the East Coast? Maybe they’d been nuked!

  “I mean, swamped,” Zach clarified. “All the circuits are busy.”

  “Oh.” Katie started breathing again. “Scared me there, for a second.”

  “Sorry. And yeah, before we left our house, I did talk to Pastor Jacobs, too. I told him about the Coastal Cleanup cancellation, and that our group was headed home, and you and I were evacuating. I encouraged him to suggest the same to the church.”

  “Did he agree?”

  “He said he’d send my concerns out over the prayer chain. So hopefully, people got emails and texts and phone messages.”

  “I hope so. Dear Lord,” Katie whispered, half comment and half prayer.

  Zach coughed.

  “Yeah.” A long moment passed before he began again. “Since things got obviously bad, I haven’t been able to reach anybody.”

  “Not even texting?”

  “Nope. Or if mine went through, I haven’t received any replies.”

  “So you weren’t able to put anything on your blog, either?” Katie wiped her eyes. Zach had a blog with over a million followers, many in California. It was quite Christian and sometimes addressed political issues, often provoking the governor and other government officials.

  “Nope.”

  The conversation was taking her mind off what just happened, but it kept flashing back into her brain.

  “I can’t believe that guy shot at you!”

  “I really don’t think he aimed at me,” Zach said. “Honestly, though, I just now stopped shaking.”

  Katie couldn’t help but stare at the gangster sedan riding on Zach’s bumper now. During the conversation, though, they’d crawled through the gauntlet of the merging lanes, and emerged unscathed on the other side.

  “Babe, we should probably save the batteries on the walkie talkies.”

  “I know.” She watched the RV’s taillights as Zach touched, then released, his brakes. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too. Out.”

  Katie turned off her radio. Hunger chewed at her stomach. And she was out of water, too.

  When would they ever get out of this traffic, and this infernal state?

  ***

  Alana rubbed her eyes. The constant drama and alarm kept her wired, but her body was feeling the effects of too much coffee and fatigue. Would she ever be able to rest and sleep?

  At the moment, it was an unthinkable idea. But at some point, she would reach her limit. Then exhaustion would set in. Hopefully by then, they’d be past the worst of this crisis.

  “What’s happening at the airports?” The president asked. “I need updates on those airports!”

  “Yes, Madame President,” the secretary of Homeland Security said. “I just got a fresh report moments ago. I was still reviewing it, actually.”

  “Can you summarize for us?” She pushed her shiny black hair over her shoulder.

  “Basically, we have to take action now, or lose up to twenty airliners over the next hour. They’re flying on fumes up there. When they run out, they fall out.”

  “So, land them!” Basilia ordered.

  “The drones –”

  “Drones smrones. Get those birds on the ground!”

  “There will be casualties. And our people are convinced they’ve located and can catch the drone operators in the next few minutes.”

  “Very well. Give them five minutes,” the president agreed. “Then land those planes before they cause spectacles all over the western states!”

  She glared at the Homeland Security secretary as she continued. “Say there’s two drones at ten major airports. At most, they’ll take out twenty aircraft, right? That’s how many you said will crash just because they’ll run out of gas in the next hour. And those drones might not be able to take out any aircraft at all!”

  The secretary’s brow furrowed. He glanced around the assembled group as if seeking help. Alana withheld emotion from her façade when he looked her way.

  “The problem is bigger than that, Madame President,” he tried again. “If a drone does take out a plane, it’s almost certainly going to crash on or near a runway, closing the nearest runways to all other incoming planes.”

  “For how long?” the president asked.

  “For hours at least. Days at most.”

  “So land the other planes on the remaining runways!”

  “It’s not quite that simple. Runways are used based on wind direction. You can’t always use all your runways, because the wind can prevent landing from certain directions.”

  “I’d rather have them fight the wind than fall out of the sky.” Basilia gave him a look that would countenance no further objections. “Your five minutes are almost up. Start landing those birds!”

  Chapter 20

  Nadir’s father patted his pockets, then looked back toward the blazing hulk that had been their transportation. He cursed.

  “My cell phone must have fallen out in there,” he said.

  “It wouldn’t work anyway. The circuits are all busy.” Nadir had lost his phone too – actually, both of them.

  “We will return home. I can call for help from there.”

  “Father – that’s like three miles!” He wasn’t sure exactly, since he didn’t even actually know where they crash landed. “Can’t we just knock on a door and ask for help?”

  His father stared at him. “You said it yourself. The circuits are busy.”

  “But perhaps we can get through on a landline call to 9-1-1.”

  “I doubt that.” He strode toward the street. “But you are welcome to try.”

  Nadir pulled a small piece of broken glass from his palm, then followed his father to the sidewalk. The streetlights were out, and all the homes were dark. A handful of people hurried west, carrying backpacks and luggage. A slow stream of vehicles moved the same direction.

  Looking at the nearest homes, Nadir re-thought his plan to knock and ask to use a phone. It wasn’t a great neighborhood. And knocking on a dark door was a good way to get shot.

  His father started walking, and Nadir fell in beside him. Maybe he could make a call from a store or quick mart or something.

  “Do you know where we are?” he asked.

  His father g
lanced at the upcoming street sign. “Not exactly. Eventually we will come to a street we recognize, and we’ll navigate from there.”

  A horn honked as the line of cars slowed almost to a stop.

  Nadir hurried to keep up with his father. The man was in good shape from his morning runs. Perhaps he should follow that example. He lowered his head and shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “Who would shoot at a police helicopter?” he wondered aloud.

  His father stopped and turned to look into his face. He shrugged. “Who would burn up the state of California?”

  “Jihadis,” Nadir said, then added, “probably.”

  “No.” His father looked back toward the wildfires. “This is not Islam. This is insanity.”

  Nadir felt heat flush his cheeks. At least it was too dark to be seen. His father began walking again.

  “Come on. Let’s hurry.”

  Nadir hustled to keep up. “This is Allah, punishing the Great Satan.”

  “This is psychosis,” his father said. “Murdering freaks!”

  He bit his tongue so hard it hurt. He’d not argue with his father over this. The man had his faith, but he’d gone soft in his old age. Been in America too long. Perhaps he was tempted to overlook its corrupting influence on the world.

  But Nadir was strong in his faith, and would never go soft. He’d be a valiant warrior until the day he died.

  Hopefully, that would not be today.

  ***

  Red lights illuminated the highway ahead, and Katie applied her brakes, too. She heaved a sigh. What now?

  The motorhome was four vehicles ahead of her, with the gang sedan right behind it. Numerous drivers in both lanes had been driving half-way into the shoulders to prevent selfish jerks from trying to turn those shoulders into their own private expressways.

  And for several minutes, this had worked. The jam-packed traffic was still snarled up, but it was making progress at almost ten miles per hour. The fastest they’d driven since about lunch time.

  Accidentally, she glanced at her gas gauge. And just as quickly, looked away.

  Ugh. It totally looked like there was nothing in the tank. And the warning light was illuminated.