by Bobby Akart
Steven reached out with his left arm to hold her. He winced in pain, but Katie took advantage of the comfort.
“Let me find my credit card,” he groaned.
“I love you, Steven,” Katie was crying now. “I thought you were—dying. You just slumped over the wheel. Blood was everywhere.” Katie’s sobs were mixed with sniffles.
Steven chuckled and then coughed. “I’m not going anywhere, Katie O’Shea—except to Boston. I love you too.”
Katie looked into Steven’s eyes and knew he was going to be okay. She wiped her tears away and sat up to look around. It was getting dark.
“We have to find a place to rest for the night. Do you think you can walk?”
“Yes, but we also need another car. I guess that yours is trashed.”
She stood up and brushed herself off. “They took everything, Steven, except the medical bag I grabbed.”
“Glad you did, Doc. You saved my life with it.”
Katie wanted to start crying again, but Steven lifted himself to his feet with the assistance of several curse words in a variety of languages, it seemed.
“Let’s make our way through the woods and see about some shelter. Then we’ll talk about a car.” She helped him as they walked down a deer path and crossed a road that contained only sporadic traffic. They were certain the attackers were long gone, but Katie kept her weapon ready. She had one full magazine left and several rounds in her gun. Steven never got to fire a shot, so he had two full mags, and his 9mm was full.
“Now we’re talkin’,” said Steven as he gestured to a Land Rover dealership. “I think we should car shop first.” He picked up the pace down a side street toward the back of the Land Rover of Allentown dealership.
“They have Jaguars too!” exclaimed Katie. They found a spot to sit and observe the car dealership from across the street. Whether to break in and steal a car was not an issue for them. They lived in a world without rule of law. Neither law enforcement nor helpful citizen came to their assistance while they were under attack at the toll booth. Survival was their number one priority, and transportation was the first order of business.
Katie stood up and checked her weapon. She turned to Steven and double-checked his bandages. “Cop a squat while I walk around the building. Let me make sure no rent-a-cops are hanging around.”
“Come and get me before you go in, okay?”
“Of course,” Katie replied. “This is our first major purchase as a couple.”
“Yeah, yeah,” said Steven as Katie walked into the darkness. He whispered loudly to her, “Land Rover.”
“Jaguar,” was her answer.
After fifteen minutes, she returned with a hammer. “I found this in the field behind the building. I think it will make a pretty good entry key to the service department door.”
After taking a few precautionary moments to observe the surroundings, Steven and Katie made their way across the parking lot to the obscured service entrance.
“We’re about to find out if the alarm system still works,” said Katie as she smashed the plate-glass door. There was silence except for the shards of glass hitting the concrete floor. “We’re in.”
Leading the way, both Steven and Katie pulled their weapons in case there was a night watchman with a death wish. They went room to room, clearing the building.
“It’s tempting to sleep on Mr. General Manager’s comfy sofa for the night, but finding places to sleep is easy,” said Steven. “Let’s pick a model and get out of here.”
Katie ran for the showroom like a young child. “First dibs! Jaguar is the winner!”
“No fair, brat, I’m like Swiss cheese with bullet holes,” replied Steven as he struggled to keep up with her. “Besides, we have to do this the smart way.”
“What the hell does that mean?” asked Katie defiantly as she stood next to a shiny new Jaguar coupe with her hands on her hips.
“We’ll decide based upon which vehicle has the most gas in it,” replied Steven.
Katie pondered this for a minute and knew Steven was right. They systematically walked through the showroom and checked for keys and the fuel level of each vehicle.
Steven proudly proclaimed himself the winner when he found a black Range Rover, supercharged model, containing a full tank. “Turn out the lights, the party is over.”
“Everybody is a comedian,” said Katie. “Let’s see what else is of use in the building; then we’ll hit the road.” She tossed her medical bag in the back compartment together with a basic first aid kit she found in the service center. Steven gathered up bottled water and snacks from the break room. He changed out of his bloody clothes and put on a drab gray mechanics suit. With his bandaged face, he joked that he looked like Jason in the Friday the Thirteenth movies.
When they loaded up everything of use, they faced a quandary. “How do we get this thing out of here?” asked Katie.
Steven looked around and realized the cars were driven into the showroom through a roll-up glass door at the end of the building. It was electric operated.
“Ah hell,” said Steven. “This thing doesn’t have a manual override. It requires power.”
“Now what?” Katie and Steven surveyed their options before Katie answered her question. “Looks like I get to drive my Jaguar after all. I’ll drive it through the windows of that portico. You follow me out.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Steven hopped into the front seat of the Range Rover while Katie revved the engine of the Jaguar. She floored it and crashed through the glass. Steven followed after the glass and dust had settled.
Katie jumped into the passenger side, and Steven roared onto Tilghman Street towards the Pennsylvania Turnpike.
“Fuckin’ A!” shouted Steven. “Grand theft auto! What a rush!”
Just as Steven was tearing up the entrance ramp heading north, Katie socked him with the buzzkill.
“Pull over up here. I’m driving.”
Steven snapped his head towards her and then grimaced from pain. “Hold up!” he protested.
“Doctor’s orders,” said Katie. “You’ve only got one good arm. Now pull over.”
Steven dutifully pulled over.
They were back on the road again.
Chapter 42
Sunday, September 4, 2016
10:19 p.m.
Port Jervis, NY
Katie checked Steven’s wounds every fifteen to thirty minutes but was pleased that her bandages held. They would have to be changed in the next couple of hours, and after what his body had endured, quality sleep was necessary. She cut through the heart of the Poconos to avoid traveling through downtown Scranton. The famed Pocono Raceway was dark as she passed it on Interstate 80. Traffic was light, and it was a welcome relief. Now Katie viewed every vehicle as a threat.
Turning eastbound toward the New York state line on I-84, she thought of her career. Katie’s family had stressed the importance of her education as a child. They had taken an active role in her studies, as well as her after-school activities. She was destined to have a promising career in any field that caught her attention. But it was the events of 9/11 that captured her imagination and set her life’s path. While her teenage girlfriends savored the attention of boys and fawned over the latest teen heartthrob, Katie dove into the geopolitical details of the attacks on that fateful day.
When she voiced her initial reaction at the dinner table one evening, her parents were horrified. She said the events of 9/11 were the single greatest attack on America in its history. She was in awe at what a handful of men could accomplish against the world’s only superpower.
Naturally, her conclusions drew astonishment and admonition from her parents. She was told never to say that to anyone again. Katie took their criticism, but it did not change her opinion. She studied the events of 9/11 from an unemotional, rational point of view. Without allowing feelings of sorrow for the victims or a sense of patriotism to cloud her judgment, Katie was willing to say out loud what so many would not. 9/
11 was a big win for terrorism.
Katie set her sights on a career in government. At fifteen, she wanted to be a spy. When she told her parents she wanted to attend the U.S. Naval Academy, they were proud. She met Steven in college, and they had been close friends over the years. Now, they were going steady. Katie laughed to herself—if I can keep him alive.
“I need coffee,” grumbled her patient.
“Let me find a Starbucks for you, honey. I’m sure there’s one around here somewhere.”
“You don’t understand. I need caffeine. My head is splitting.”
“Okay, we’re almost in New York. We need to find a place to pull over for the night and catch some winks. Caffeine is off the menu, but ibuprofen is the next best thing.”
“Where are we?”
“We’re near a small town called Port Jervis on the Delaware River. New Jersey is across the river, and New York is up ahead on the other side of town. I’ll pull off after we cross the Delaware.”
Steven closed his eyes again, and Katie caught a glimpse of his face in the headlights of a passing car. He was incredibly handsome. This man risked his life defending his country and then chose a career where he willingly put his life at risk for a paycheck. Or did he do it because it was enjoyable?
Katie pulled off at a nondescript exit called Mountain Road. At the bottom of the ramp, she looked down the road about half a mile and saw an illuminated parking lot.
“Steven, they might have power here.”
He stirred himself upright and more alert. “Careful, Katie, I’m not in the mood for any surprises.”
Katie cautiously approached the source of the light until she could see the Greeneville Fire Department. Two of its green roll-up doors were open, revealing a fire engine and a tanker. A few residents were milling around, talking to the uniformed firefighters.
“Whadya think?” asked Katie. They both studied the surroundings and the people having a conversation in the parking lot.
“Let’s pull in and circle around to point the truck out in case we have to run. I’ll see if they’re friendly.”
Katie slowly pulled into the paved lot and circled as if to leave. The group turned their attention toward them, and one of the firefighters managed a wave. Steven rolled down his window.
“Good evening,” he started politely. “Is there a hospital nearby or an EMS?”
“No hospital, but we have some medical supplies here. We’re also trained for most nonlethal wounds.” The group approached the Range Rover without hesitation.
“My wounds are nonlethal, so far, although that was not the intent of the guys who tried to kill us.” Steven looked at Katie and nodded. He opened the door to greet the welcoming committee, showing his hands to keep them visible.
“Wow, your face is messed up,” said a woman in the group.
“Windshield, or back window pieces,” started Steven. “Heck, maybe even side window pieces.” Katie studied the crowd and determined they were not a threat. She shut off the engine and joined the group, keeping her weapon holstered and hidden by her shirt.
“My name is Steven, and this is my friend Katie. We’re trying to get home to Boston, and we were doing pretty well until a bunch of thugs carjacked us at a toll booth in Allentown.”
“Hi, everyone,” said Katie.
“My name is Hector,” said one of the firefighters. “I know that toll booth. It’s the perfect choke point.”
Katie perked up at the use of the military terminology, as did Steven.
“Are you military?”
“Retired recently,” said Hector. “I was with the 77th Sustainment Brigade. We provided logistical support to 1st Battalion, 25th Marines.”
“Wait, were you stationed at Devens? Recently?” asked Steven.
“I was until February. Do you know Fort Devens?”
“I do, Brad—I mean Colonel Bradlee is a very close friend of ours.” The rest of the group started smiling as everyone let their guards down.
“He was our base commander. I still keep in touch with my friends there, especially Gunny Falcone.”
“Holy shit!” exclaimed Steven, catching himself. “Pardon my French, ma’am. Small world, isn’t it? Hector, my full name is Lieutenant Commander Steven Sargent, United States Navy retired. I believe we have a lot to talk about.”
“We sure do,” replied Hector. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a tattoo under his forearm—the five red and four white stripes of the Rebellious flag.
“Choose freedom?” asked Steven.
“Choose freedom,” was the response from Hector and three of his friends in unison.
Chapter 43
Monday, September 5, 2016
8:30 a.m.
Port Jervis, New York
After a night of conversation and some medical attention for Steven, the two travelers slept hard. Only the roar of the six-hundred-horsepower Cummins engine stirred them awake on Monday morning. Steven smelled coffee. Fuckin’ A!
He kissed Katie and whispered into her ear, “Wake up, gorgeous.” He felt better after getting a full night’s rest. He walked out of the fire hall’s sleeping quarters and found Hector at the front entrance.
“Morning, Steven.”
“Good morning. Do you guys have a call?”
“A big one, in fact,” replied Hector. “There’s been an explosion and a massive fire at the Indian Point Nuclear Plant in Buchanan.”
“Whoa, that’s serious.”
“It could be. Several transformers in unit three have caught fire. Then there was an explosion in the main transformer of Indian Point two. It’s all hands on deck, I’m afraid.”
“Be careful, my friend,” said Steven.
“I will. I have lots to live for,” said Hector, pointing towards the kitchen, where two women were preparing food, and the smell of coffee reached Steven’s nostrils. “That’s my wife and daughter. They’ve made breakfast and will hold down the fort until we return.”
Steven’s first reaction was that of concern. “Aren’t you afraid to leave them here alone?”
“I understand where you’re coming from Steven, but we live in the country. Port Jervis is not New York City or even Allentown.” Hector gently touched Steven’s shoulder. “We all know each other and look out for our neighbors. Also, there are plenty of friends around.” Hector patted his forearm with the Rebellious flag tattoo.
With his right arm in a sling, Steven reached out with his left hand to shake Hector’s. “Thank you for what you’ve done for us. The place to crash, the medical attention, and the coffee will give us a boost.”
“You’re welcome, Commander,” said Hector. “There is one more thing, and please don’t repeat this to my wife. I don’t want her worried.”
“Okay.”
“Interstate 84 across the Hudson has been closed due to potential nuclear fallout. They’ve evacuated a ten-mile radius of Indian Point, which includes West Point.”
“We need to head northeast into Connecticut, but avoid Hartford. What do you suggest?”
“Check the map and make your way to US 209 towards Poughkeepsie. You can cross there and then make your way across New York into Connecticut. You need to be aware that some towns are closing their borders to travelers. Border closings seem to be happening nationwide, according to what we hear on our ham radio units. I’ve written you a letter on our station letterhead, vouching for you and Katie. I have provided my hamr call letters in case anyone needs to confirm who you are.”
“Thank you, Hector,” said Steven.
“Also, please tell your brother thank you.”
“Sarge?”
“Yes,” replied Hector. “We’ve read his book Choose Freedom—more than once. It’s an inspiration to us all. We love America—as it was originally intended. Here in Port Jervis, we’ll do our part to make her exceptional again.”
“Absolutely, buddy. Stay safe and choose freedom!”
Chapter 44
Monday, September 5, 2016
Poughkeepsie, New York
Steven felt much better in the khakis and Realtree camo sweatshirt provided by Hector. The mechanic coveralls didn’t fit him properly, and the look might attract attention as they made their way home. Steven rounded the curve of US 44, and they approached the Mid-Hudson Bridge. A delegation of law enforcement officers and two retired military bulldozers blocked the route into Poughkeepsie.
“Let’s see if Hector’s passport helps us cross the Hudson,” said Steven. Steven approached the police barricade slowly and kept his hands on top of the wheel in plain view of the officers.
“There are snipers on the ridges to our left and right,” said Katie. “Army bulldozers too. What are they expecting?” Steven glanced in both directions without being obvious or appearing nervous to the officers. Sheriff’s deputies approached both sides of the Range Rover with their AR-15s held at low ready.
“Sir, the bridge is closed to through-traffic until further notice,” said the officer whose name badge identified him as Deputy Mullinax. “We’ll need you to turn your vehicle around and choose a route to the north. There’s another bridge crossing at Red Hook—about fifteen miles from here.”
“Good morning, Deputy,” said Steven. “I understand your need for security, but we’re low on fuel. Highway 44 provides a direct route to the north of Hartford. We can’t afford any lost gas mileage for detours.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but for the security purposes of our town, only identifiable residents are allowed to pass on the Mid-Hudson Bridge.” Steven reached for the letter on the console, and both deputies immediately raised their weapons and shouted.
“Put your hands where we can see them, sir. Now!”
Steven raised his hands and placed them on the dashboard. “I have a letter I need you to read. That’s all!”
“Both of you step out of the vehicle!” Two more deputies ran to the aid of their partners, with weapons drawn.
