by Justin Bell
***
Just looking at it took Rhonda’s breath away.
The four ATVs trucked along the plains, skating past rows of trees, moving at a moderate pace; not too slow, but not too fast. They didn’t want to waste gas but also didn’t want to waste time, and it had been challenging enough to find a passage through the myriad of freeways in and around Denver.
Now, as they rode through a stretch of bumpy farmlands east of Route 30, she watched the long stretch of cars jammed up on the road, a mass of metal and plastic, a wall of immovable vehicles. Rhonda squinted, trying to see if she could see people in the seats, but most of the cars looked empty.
What had happened? Did the people panic, fearing that the radioactive fallout from Utah would overtake them? Ditch their cars and run? It occurred to her then they might have gone to the airport itself, but that was a topic that petrified her. In the back of her mind, she’d pictured the airport as a refuge. The destination that would unite her with her missing daughter, an oasis of sorts in the desert of this new reality. As their convoy trekked along the uneven patches of rural farm land, she realized that her oasis might just be a mirage.
Angling right, Rhonda led the crew of all-terrain vehicles across bare and flat land, farm houses small and faint in the distance. They followed a narrow road, hopped onto it, and ran a bridge over Interstate 70. Below the convoy of ATVs more and more cars and trucks were wedged together like sardines in a long, two-lane can, pressed tight and immobile. As soon as they could, the four-wheelers hopped off the road back onto the grass and tore across the straight patches of land, veering at Denver International Airport which was now visible on the horizon, looming short, but wide, a sprawling city-sized complex in the middle of the vast flat fields of rural Colorado.
Rhonda eased her vehicle to a halt and behind her the other three drivers followed suit. Phil and Winnie rode on a second ATV with Angel driving the third, riding his ATV all on his own. With his bald head and scattered tattoos along his arms, he looked somewhat out of place among the crowd of the small town middle class, and the shotgun he had stuffed into a bag on the back of his ATV with the butt sticking out certainly didn’t help matters any. Greer and Max brought up the rear, with Greer keeping a constant vigil on the back of Angel’s bald head as they rode. His eyes remained alert and attentive, watching the convict while watching the road, a difficult balancing act, but one he felt was necessary. In the seat behind him, Max sat still, his arms clutched at Greer’s side. Brad swept his leg off the seat behind Rhonda as she stepped away from her own Honda vehicle.
“I don’t like this,” Brad whispered as he stepped out around Rhonda. “Everything is too open. They can see us.”
“Who can see us, sweetheart?” Rhonda asked.
Brad looked around, his eyes wide. “I don’t know. Whoever wants to. Those guys from Brisbee. They could have followed us.”
Rhonda bent down and put a hand on Brad’s back. “Take it easy, buddy, okay? We’re fine. We’re almost at the airport, then the next stop is your mom and dad. Are you worried about them?”
“A little,” Brad replied. “I just wish we knew if they were okay.”
“I know,” she replied. She placed a hand to her swollen cheek and winced at the pain that shot back at her. “You’ve been really brave, Brad,” Rhonda said quietly. “I’m sure your parents would be proud.”
Brad glanced towards Max, then back at Rhonda, nodding. “I hope so.”
Rhonda rustled his hair, then stood, pointing out towards the airport.
“That’s DIA right out there. We should be able to come around the east side. We may need to scale or take down a fence, but I’m hoping that won’t be a problem, depending on security.”
“You really think they’re wasting police on an unusable airport when there’s a radioactive cloud on the way?” Phil asked, shooting a look towards Clancy Greer as he said it.
Greer shrugged, non-committal.
“I think worrying too much about a radioactive cloud is thinking too big picture, frankly,” Greer said, “especially when we’ve apparently decided to let a criminal ride the convoy with us.” He glared at Angel, who looked back at him, mistrustfully.
“I don’t want any trouble,” Angel said quietly.
Rhonda looked at him, then shifted and looked at Greer. “Clancy makes a good point,” she said. “Don’t get me wrong, we’re very thankful that you helped us, and we can use all the extra hands we can get, but you’ll have to excuse us if we’re extra cautious.”
Angel shrugged. “I get it. Look, I do. Not everyone who ends up in jail belongs there.”
“I’ve heard that story before,” Greer said with a scowl. “Every time I hear it, it stinks even more.”
“Clancy,” Rhonda said, “let’s not get too aggressive, okay? Angel saved our lives. He must have had his reasons.”
“I didn’t belong with those others,” Angel said quietly. “All this stuff that happened, you don’t understand.”
“I’ve dealt with your kind before,” Greer said. “I think I understand plenty.”
“Enough,” Rhonda stated. “Lag behind if you want. Keep an eye on him, but he’s earned at least a small measure of our trust.”
Greer didn’t reply.
“Well, glad that’s settled,” Rhonda said, stepping back as if she smelled something foul. She clamored back onto the ATV with Brad slipping in just behind her and moments later the four vehicles shot forward over the uneven, grassy terrain. Fat tires thumped as they moved along the ground, the metal trailer dragged behind Angel’s ATV banging and clattering as it charged over bumps and rocks along the way.
Up ahead the broad, paved runway extended perpendicular to their path, and the site was just another in a long line of things that made the Frasers take pause over the past twenty-four hours. Planes stood all over the runway, dozens of them as if they had been staged and prepped for take-off, then just simply abandoned, left there like giant, metal beasts to feed off the grass and mope around with nothing left to do. Massive shapes left to sit and decay as humanity withdrew. A chain link fence had been erected at some point to cordon off this area, but a section of it was torn away and flattened, and the ATVs rolled over it, tires clanking over metal, the seats vibrating under them as they rolled past, bearing down on the large, metal monoliths sitting alone and abandoned on the paved strips.
Phil looked over at them as they approached the runway but didn’t see any people milling around, only the aircrafts themselves, patiently waiting for their next passengers that would never come.
“Bizarre,” Phil whispered as they came upon one of the planes, an American Airlines 757, its white hide gleaming in the late morning sun. The vehicles slipped under its extended tail and Max stared up at it wide-eyed as they cruised past, enthralled by such a close up look at the humongous piece of American ingenuity, now completely useless. They veered left across two more lanes of runways until they reached the terminal, standing tall and wide. Terminal Road ran just to their left, and the airport loomed behind it, its unique series of sloped tent-like roof peaks looking distinct and clearly visible underneath the pure blue sky.
Phil’s eyes carried up towards the sky, wondering just how safe the air they currently breathed was. Were nuclear particles in their lungs already? Would they be able to tell if they were? How long did they even have before things got really, really bad?
He followed Rhonda’s lead as she directed them towards the main airport terminal, bringing the vehicles to a coasting stop by the entrance. Looking in through large, glass windows they could see the vague shapes of figures milling about inside, a clear sign that people were there, but not very many. Surprisingly few, in fact.
“So what do we do with these?” Max asked, gesturing towards the four-wheelers. Rhonda looked around and spotted what looked like a hangar a short distance away.
“Let’s park them in there, then walk into the airport. That should keep the ATVs safe and make us look a little l
ess conspicuous while we’re at it.”
Phil and Greer both nodded an affirmative. Moving towards the opened hangar, they slipped the ATVs into a darkened corner and emerged, walking towards the terminal. In spite of her minor limp from the still throbbing gunshot wound, Rhonda was the pace car, moving swift and straight and crossing the pavement. She walked up on the sidewalk, bolting towards the front doors of the main terminal.
“Rhonda, slow down,” Phil whispered as she pushed through the front doors into the lobby. The main terminal of the airport still looked clean and artistic with the polished tile floor and chrome cylinder columns looking pristine even after the most devastating attack on U.S. soil. As Rhonda had thought, there were people milling about, stunned groups meandering around, not quite able to verbalize the thoughts and worries in their brains. Most of them were in clutches of three or four, and many of them looked like families, too scared to try to go outside, and too numb to know what to do next. Crossing past a row of seats, they saw several people laying on them on their sides, looking as if they were sleeping off a nasty layover when all the local hotels were full.
“United. We always told her to fly United,” Rhonda murmured as she walked, her legs pumping, her eyes scanning the seats and floor for any remote signs of recognition. The deeper they got into the airport, the fewer people they saw, but those people appeared to be members of law enforcement or government services.
“That guy is from Homeland Security,” Max whispered to Brad and they both looked over towards one of the waiting areas. There was indeed a man standing there in a blue jacket with the symbol of Homeland Security emblazoned on the flat area of his back.
“Should we ask for their help?” Brad asked.
Max shook his head. “They’ve got bigger problems than just us.”
Three men in dark suits crossed in front of them as they walked and Rhonda slowed, with Phil coming up on her right, placing a calming hand on her back.
“Take it easy, sweetie. If she’s here, we’ll find her.”
Rhonda didn’t even look back.
“Dad, look,” whispered Winnie and Phil glanced back towards his daughter, slowing his pace so they matched each other. She looked past her extended finger and saw the prone form of a person laying by some seats by the window. A man and a woman in dark windbreakers crouched by the body, and Phil had a guess what was going on.
“Don’t look,” Phil said, pressing his hand on Winnie’s back to ease her forward motion.
Scattered lights were on at the airport but not all of them. A healthy amount of illumination emanated from the frozen faces of the displays, showing arrival and departure times. Once in a while as they walked, the lights above would dim and flicker, as if not running at full capacity.
“I think this place is running on generator power,” Angel said, coming up next to Greer.
“Might be,” Greer replied coldly. “With as many people in here as we saw, they might be using this as a place to keep folks safe.”
“What are we looking for exactly?” Angel asked.
“Fraser’s daughter. They had an older daughter who was going to UCLA. They heard from her and know she’s safe, but they’re not sure where she is exactly.”
“Ah.”
Greer slowed up, letting the group ahead separate somewhat, then he clutched Angel’s arm and held him back, turning him slightly.
“What’s the problem, esé?” Angel asked.
“I’m trying to figure you out, buddy,” Greer replied. “Your name’s Angel?”
“Si. Angel.”
“What’s your last name?”
Angel rolled his eyes a bit, then looked over his shoulder, hoping the Fraser’s hadn’t gone too far. The family and Brad were a couple of stations ahead of them and showing no signs of slowing down.
“Angel Menendez.”
Greer’s face hardened. “Oh. The cop killer. Lovely.”
“The way it happened is not how it really happened, man,” Angel said. “Look, can we do this later?”
“These people saved my life, Menendez. They didn’t have to, but they did. I owe it to them to protect them, and in my mind, letting a murderer join the club isn’t exactly protecting them.”
“I’m not a murderer.”
“Oh, right. Of course. You didn’t deserve to be in prison. It was a bum rap. I keep forgetting, all you jerks are innocent.”
“It’s not like that,” Angel said.
“Clancy?” Greer turned and saw Phil facing them both, arms outstretched from a few gates away. Greer held up a finger and nodded.
“We’re going to talk about this sometime,” he said to Angel. “You’re not off the hook. But we’ve got other priorities right now, okay?”
“Whatever you say, man,” Angel replied, shrugging, then falling in line ahead of Greer as he turned and walked to rejoin the others. The United terminal was up ahead, gates extending in evenly spaced rows along both sides of the wide aisle.
“Mom, over here!” Winnie shouted from one of the gates as she looked up at the screen above the customer service desk. It sat locked and frozen on the previous day’s flights and Winnie was pointing at one of the entries.
“LAX to Denver, landed here at 7:30 a.m. yesterday,” she said.
“Shortly before she left her message,” Rhonda said.
“Pretty close to the first detonation, too,” Phil continued.
Winnie slipped around the desk and slapped some keys on the keyboard, but nothing on the computer screen appeared. It sat there dim and dead. She crouched low and fumbled through some slots in the desk behind the counter. Her fingers brushed against a clipboard and she pulled it out, leafing through some papers.
“What did you find?” Rhonda asked. “Winnie?”
“Right here,” replied Winnie, turning the clipboard around and pressing her finger to a hand-written entry. “That flight that landed here was a connecting flight to Chicago just like she said in her message.”
“I see!” Rhonda shouted. “But they grounded it, didn’t they?” She grasped the clipboard and pulled it away from her younger daughter’s fingers, flipping through the papers. “Flight 1455 connecting to Chicago…” She traced through the paper with her finger, then halted the movement.
“What did you find, Rhonda?” Phil asked. “What is it?”
Rhonda looked over at him, tears welling in her eyes, a mixture of relief, despair, and a mother’s unique anxiety for her eldest child.
“Flight 1455 took off to Chicago at 8:10 a.m. yesterday. It was the last flight to leave Denver before they closed everything down.”
Phil drew in a breath and blew it out, closing his eyes. “At least she’s safe.”
“Is she?” Rhonda asked, tears now spilling down her cheeks. “How do we know? How do we talk to her? What are we supposed to do?”
“We have to do whatever we can to find her,” Phil said. He looked back and caught sight of Brad, who was looking up towards them, his eyes wide and his mouth set into a straight, even line. He seemed to understand what was going on here. Inside his head, Phil could picture the image of his parents going up in smoke as he went all over creation at the whim of his friend’s psycho parents.
“Hey, buddy, don’t worry,” Phil said, walking towards Brad and lowering down to his level. He placed his hands on the child’s narrow shoulders. “Missouri is right on the way,” he said. “Kill two birds with one stone, all right?”
Brad nodded and Rhonda noticed the exchange, realization settling down on her shoulders as well.
“Of course,” she whispered, approaching Brad herself. “We’ll head through Missouri to get to Chicago. We’ll find your parents on our way, then head to Chicago afterwards. Okay? We’re not leaving you high and dry.”
“Okay,” Brad replied, his narrow grin breaking into a reassured smile. “Okay, great. Thank you, Mrs. Fraser.”
She stood, ruffling the hair on his head, then shot a look towards Phil. “We have to get moving. I don�
�t know how much time we really have.”
Phil nodded his agreement and turned, glancing out the window. It was late afternoon already shifting towards evening, the second day of the nuclear apocalypse winding down, with the oppressive thought of an approaching nuclear cloud filling every avenue of his thoughts.
Clancy and Angel approached, completing the semi-circle as Phil and Rhonda conferred to figure out the best next step.
“How far do you think we can get tonight?” she asked and Phil shrugged.
“If we top off the gas tanks before we leave and just start cruising east? What’s the top speed on these things, forty miles per hour?”
“Probably, if we weren’t towing a trailer,” Greer replied. “With the trailer, probably closer to thirty.”
“If we can make our way towards Interstate 70 and follow it east, we might be able to get a hundred miles tonight if we’re lucky. We won’t want to keep going too far in the dark,” Rhonda said. “At what point does the radiation dissipate?”
“Do we look like nuclear radiation dispersal experts?” Greer asked, gesturing to himself and Angel. The blank look on Angel’s face was enough to make Rhonda snicker in spite of her growing concern.
“So, let’s plan to head due east towards Kansas,” Phil said, moving to assert himself as a decision maker. "I don’t think we’ll make it to the border tonight, but let’s try to find a place to hole up on the road, and get an early start tomorrow to try to make up for lost time."
Nods went all around the group.
“You okay with that, Rhonda?” Phil asked, looking towards his wife. Rhonda smiled a wan smile and agreed. They began the long trek back to the exit of the terminal, but Greer held Angel back once more.
“Okay, are you still on board?” he asked. “You coming with us to see this through?”
Angel shrugged. “Why not?”
Greer crossed his arms, glaring at him. “Okay, so what’s your deal? You just decide, all of a sudden, you’re going to join a family on a cross country trek? You, a guy who traded bullets with police officers? A guy who spent the last eight years behind bars?”
