Flight Plan: Deconstruction Book Three (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller)

by Rashad Freeman

  “Help me!” I screeched just in case he hadn’t got the message.

  He glared at me like I was crazy and started shouting again. Waving his hands, he stepped closer then started to jab his finger at me like he could shoot lasers from them.

  “Get out of there! The fucking buildings are falling!” he finally screamed.

  The road he was standing on warped and bubbled into the air like a roller coaster. He fell forward with a yelp then vanished behind a cloud of dust.

  I looked to my side and stared up in time to see the brick façade plunging toward me. I shuffled backward just before it slammed into the ground. Bits of shrapnel sprayed into the air, slicing my arm as I used it to shield my face.

  More grumbling, more clatter from the collapsing frames. A piercing, shrill rang in my ears that made my teeth hurt. Grimacing, I gripped the sides of my head as more chunks of the building peppered the floor around me like meteors. I jumped to the side then rolled and was showered in shards of glass for my troubles.

  Scrambling, I lurched across the asphalt on all fours until I could regain my footing. Metal beams chimed as they hit the street behind me. The earth shook and I fell face first, sliding across the trembling ground.

  It hurt like hell, but I needed to move. Jumping back up, I ran harder than I thought my legs would allow. I could feel the air shifting as tons of brick slammed into the road. But my feet found a stable bottom and after a few more strides, I slowed and chanced a look over my shoulder.

  The little tremor had passed, but the damage was done. The remains of the police station and any survivors were covered in a mountain of wreckage. Nothing was left of the two towers or the construction worker that had just saved my life.

  I stared in awe, shocked that I’d survived any of it and terrified that it wasn’t over. Yonkers was ground zero and I ‘d be damned if I was gonna wait around for Bill’s team to show up.

  A loud grumbling stirred me from my daze and I wheeled around. A white pickup truck was crawling over the broken streets like a tank. It was the most out of place thing I’d ever seen. It didn’t make since, but at that time I wasn’t in a position to debate logic.

  “Wait! Wait!” I shouted and ran after them.

  The brake lights lit up and the truck skid to a stop. The rear window lowered and an older man with brown and gray hair stuck his head out.

  “What are you doing out there?” he asked in a heavy British accent.

  I swallowed and took a deep breath. “I need a ride,” I responded.

  “To where?”

  “Anywhere…just out of here.”

  “We’re heading into New York. Get in.”

  He opened the door and stepped out of the truck. There were three other guys inside and the space was cramped, but I’d make do.

  “My name’s Oscar,” the man said and held out his hand. “I don’t know the rest of them, but they have wheels so I’m not complaining.”

  He had a point, beggars certainly couldn’t be choosers. And all I wanted to do was get out of Yonkers before it finished imploding on itself.

  “MJ,” I replied then stepped forward and shook his hand.

  I climbed into the truck and nestled beside a chubby guy named Cecil. He wore a sweat-soaked t-shirt and a backwards baseball cap. He was friendly enough although he smelled like sautéed onions and kept dripping all over my arm.

  Oscar squeezed in next to me and shut the door. As he did I felt the truck start to rattle from side to side. Chunks of black asphalt hopped into the air like popcorn kernels. The ground beneath us felt like it dropped and the truck skipped forward as the driver mashed the gas pedal.

  “Hang on!” he shouted.

  CHAPTER 5

  RUNNING FOR MY LIFE

  “Where you from MJ?” Derrick asked.

  It was his truck we were all huddled in. He was a nice man, well into his seventy’s, but scrappy and as ornery as a mule. His hair had nearly all fallen out except for a few silvery strands and he wore a red lumber jacket that was tattered and stained. His skin was leathery, like an old jacket that’d been left in the rain and each freckle on his face seemed to tell a story of a life spent living.

  “I was born in Texas, but grew up in North Carolina. I live in Virginia now,” I responded.

  “Virginia huh? What brings you to New York?”

  “Work,” I said in a nonchalant tone. “I was on my way home.” I did what I could to avoid giving too much information. The less they knew the easier it would be to contain.

  “What about you?” I asked.

  “Lived here my whole life. Never thought I’d see a day like this though.”

  “Me neither,” Jimmy added. He was sitting next to Derrick in the front. He was a skinny guy, tall and lanky with stringy brown hair that fell over his eyes.

  “I Feel bad for the people with family. Soon as I find somewhere safe gonna see what I can do to help.”

  “I think all of us should,” Oscar said.

  I frowned and leaned back. I wanted to tell them that nothing they did would matter, that the best thing they could do was go home and kiss their loved ones. But instead, I bit my lip and kept my mouth shut.

  We’d been driving for thirty minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. Derrick managed to steer us clear of the destruction back in Yonkers and now we were praying that New York was in better condition.

  “What do you think we’ll find in the city?” Derrick asked.

  I sighed and looked around at the crumbling buildings and broken roads as they passed outside the window. I hoped the destruction hadn’t spread much further, but hope wasn’t going to be enough.

  “A damn working phone,” Cecil blared.

  “Doubtful mate,” Oscar replied.

  “Why’s that?”

  “No power. Hasn’t been any power any place we’ve passed.”

  “I’m willing to bet we can find a cell phone somewhere. All those people in New York, definitely gonna be some phones there.

  Oscar nodded and turned back to the window. “I certainly hope you’re right,” he mumbled.

  We rounded a long, sweeping corner then Derrick suddenly mashed on the brake pedal. A string of cars was stopped ahead of us, their tail lights beaming red. Somewhere near the front of the snaking line were several emergency vehicles and men in uniform directing traffic.

  I smiled. It was civilization, it was life, it was control. Maybe I’d still be able to get a handle on all of it. Hopefully Bill’s team had made it in and were already limiting the information.

  “Looks like they’re starting to sort it out,” Oscar said with a grin.

  “Thank God,” Cecil grumbled. “Maybe the world’s not ending.”

  We inched forward for the next hour. I fell asleep a few times, but every time I awoke, it looked like we were in the same place, a twisting snake of cars vanishing into the horizon. At least the road was still in one piece and we hadn’t experienced any more tremors.

  I figured it was close to midday. The sun was hidden behind the swampy, gray clouds, but as my stomach growled, I was sure it had to be lunch time.

  I should’ve been home already. Toby was probably losing his mind, but I knew the DOD would’ve covered by now. I couldn’t imagine what they would’ve told him though, but at least he didn’t know the truth.

  He was supposed to pick me up from the airport. I tried to imagine how long he waited in the car before flipping out. Even with whatever they told him Toby would’ve started freaking out after a few hours. By now he was probably speaking to the president of the airline.

  Grayson, on the other hand, was probably happy about the delay. For starters, it meant that I wasn’t in his class that day embarrassing him. He wouldn’t miss my presence until he had to eat spaghetti again for the fifth time that week.

  A tap at the glass pulled me from my thoughts and I looked up. Derrick lowered the window and an exhausted looking officer leaned in. His face was drenched in sweat and his red hair was matted to h
is head. He had a look in his eyes like he’d seen the devil and his hands shook when he placed them on the door seal.

  “Accident up ahead. Follow the flashers and we’ll get you around,” he said in a monotone voice.

  “You know anything about what’s going on?” Derrick asked as everyone else echoed the same question. “We just left Yonkers, that place is a ghost town.”

  The officer wiped his face and took a deep breath. I could see the crackled, red lines that laced his eyes and the traces of stress and worry running across his face like a river. He looked like he knew things, and how much worried me.

  “Get far away,” he whispered in a raspy voice.

  “What?” Derrick asked.

  “Get out of the city. Get out of the state. Grab as much shit as you can and don’t look back.”

  “What are you talking about? You…you guys are supposed to fix this.”

  “This?” the officer said with a tremble in his voice. “No one knows what the hell this is. Trust me, just go.”

  He stood up and waved us forward then headed to the next car. I ground my teeth and swallowed.

  “I thought the police were supposed to make sure people didn’t panic,” I said.

  “I’m sure it’s okay,” Oscar added without an ounce of conviction in his voice.

  “Yeah…yeah. He was probably just overreacting.”

  As the truck got rolling we all settled back into our seats and waged our own war of thoughts. The cabin was silent, except the hum from the tires and the buffeting of wind outside. The sky swam in colors of gray and blue, the sun peeking out then vanishing behind thick, raspy clusters.

  “Damn, I could use a phone right now,” Jimmy said, breaking the silence. “Was supposed to meet up for lunch with this chick I met the other night. Was really looking forward to that.”

  “A phone would be nice to have,” Derrick replied.

  “How is it that none of you guys have a cell phone anyway?” I asked.

  “Lost mine running for my life,” Cecil replied.

  “Same here,” Oscar and Jimmy said in unison.

  “Don’t look at me,” Derrick said. “This isn’t even my truck.”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Cecil said. “Gotta be some pay phones in the city.”

  “Guess we’ll find out.” Derrick pointed up ahead as the outline of lumbering buildings came into view.

  “Finally,” Jimmy groaned.

  Derrick whipped the truck to the right and I slid into Cecil. My face mashed into his grimy t-shirt before I could catch myself.

  “Sorry…sorry,” Derrick apologized. “Damn cars parked in the road.

  We swerved again and nearly crashed into a building. Straining, he swung the truck back onto the road. It shuddered and let out a gurgling hiss. Derrick let his foot off the gas and we coasted for a minute then I felt a sharp vibration and the engine clunked out.

  “No, no, no,” Derrick snapped.

  He vigorously pumped the gas and twisted the key again and again. Nothing happened and the car continued to roll for a football field or two before coming to a stop on the curb.

  “This is as far as we go,” Derrick grumbled as he glanced into the backseat.

  Ahead of us, cars were jam packed across the road like misaligned puzzled pieces. It was a wall of metal and glass, creating a maze through the chaotic city. New York hadn’t been spared.

  We were at the intersection of Alan Street and First Avenue, but it was more of an impassable bridge than an intersection. Hundreds…thousands of people were aimlessly walking, like a slow stream of despondency headed off the edge of a cliff. Lemmings, without the energy to even be frantic, just trudging along, looking for a sign of hope.

  Their complacency was better than the alternative. Confusion seemed to cull them and now we just needed a story to tell that would keep them calm.

  “This is crazy,” Jimmy mumbled.

  “What happened here?” Oscar asked to himself.

  Swallowing, I excited the truck and balanced on wobbly legs. I took a deep breath then doubled over as the smell of burned bodies hit me like a bulldozer. Collapsing to the ground, I vomited some cheap airline food and tried to cough away the foul taste on my tongue.

  “What the fuck is that smell?” Cecil asked and stepped out behind me. He looked down with a bizarre look then offered me his hand. “You okay?”

  “Bodies…dead bodies,” I replied. Wiping my face, I stood up and shook my head from side to side.

  It was a smell you didn’t forget. It stained your clothes, your skin, even your hair. Weeks of showering wouldn’t rid you of the putrid odor. It was like death tried to latch on to whatever it could, like a ghost, reminding you of the fractured life that once was.

  “Jesus,” Jimmy continued. “It’s everywhere.”

  There was a cloudy, brown haze to the air, a thin film that you could almost cup in your hands like soup. It gave the city an alien look, but hid the real horror from sight. Everywhere I looked people were pushing through it, their tired, aching faces searching for help. The bit of humanity that I hadn’t killed cried inside of me, but there was nothing I could do.

  “We gotta get out of here,” Oscar grumbled with sadness in his voice.

  We left the truck and joined the flow of residents as they trudged toward nowhere. There was solidarity in their hopelessness. They were all orphans, misplaced vagabonds searching for answers. It was sad, but I knew everyone couldn’t be saved. It wasn’t realistic.

  The stench that hung in the air slowly dissipated and while the sun made casual appearances the temperature dipped lower and lower. I shivered and folded my arms across my chest. My riddled t-shirt was little help against the elements. My bare foot had gone numb and I wondered whether that was a good or bad thing, but I could ponder that at another time. For now, like the rest of them, I wanted to find a phone.

  “Over there!” Cecil said with excitement in his voice.

  He was pointing across the street near a storefront about one hundred yards away. I followed his finger, squinting to see whatever it was he saw. From my vantage point, it was just the tops of people’s heads.

  “A phone,” he continued. “I think I see a pay phone! Come on.”

  With a surge of energy, he rushed across the street and we followed. Weaving through the herd, we made our way to small clothing shop with a payphone outside. It was one of the few left in the city.

  Jimmy dove at it, nearly ripping the cord from the base. He placed the receiver to his ear and jabbed at a string of numbers with hope gleaming in his eyes.

  We all watched him. At that moment, anything was possible. At that moment, we had a working phone and our loved ones were only numbers away. But that moment didn’t last very long.

  “Damn it!” Jimmy snapped and slammed the phone down. “Damn it!”

  I should’ve known better. If there was a working phone, every person in this city would’ve been trying to use it. It was a stupid idea to think that it was just sitting here, waiting for us.

  I looked around at the towers of concrete, reaching for the sky like stretched fingers. I expected a helicopter to rip through the clouds and come pick me up, but that would’ve been too much. Protecting the mission was more important than rescuing me. I was gonna have to get myself back home.

  I sighed and rubbed my hands together, then stopped my eyes on the dull sign that read, “Trenz.” It was a small boutique shop, but I was certain whatever they had was better than what I was wearing.

  “I’m gonna--,” I cut my words off as I turned and found Derrick and the others crossing the street.

  “Wait!” I shouted after them. “I need to grab some clothes.”

  “We’ll wait right here,” Oscar called back.

  I nodded then pushed against the glass door and it swung open with and ominous clang. Beads and wind chimes hung from the hinge and I wondered what twelve-year-old had done the decorations.

  As I stepped inside, I paused and let my eye
s adjust to the dim light. Racks of clothes cluttered the floor in such a random way it had to be on purpose. Hand-written sale signs hung from the ceiling and a giant spray-painted mural took up the back wall.

  “Hello?” I called out with a slight quiver in my voice

  No one answered and I ventured in a little further inside. The air was cool, but stale and it was shocking how quickly things went to shit when there was no power. The entire city looked like they’d been living off the grid for weeks.

  “Hello…is anyone here?”

  The silence continued so I started searching the racks for something I could wear. The theme was some kind of alternative grunge vibe and everything was blacks and dark greens with odd symbols and phrases of protest. Not that it mattered, clothes were clothes.

  I settled on the least ripped pair of jeans I could find and a sweater that read “Kill you TV.” It was just as good as anything else, besides if you were going to survive the apocalypse might as well do it dressed as a misplaced teen with daddy issues.

  Sitting on the floor, I pulled on a pair of fresh shocks and some thick black boots with metal tips and eyelets. I had no intentions of walking barefoot ever again.

  “Much better,” I said to myself then headed back outside.

  I was in the store for less than ten minutes, but in that time, it seemed like the entire world had changed. People were screaming, running frantically down the street. A few feet from me two guys had another man pinned to the ground while he struggled to break free and screamed at the top of his lungs for help. Across the street, the looting had already begun. Glass covered the sidewalk as every manner of object was used to bash in windows and doors.

  I couldn’t understand why things had gotten so crazy. Then I looked to my right and found an APC with national guard troops marching alongside. They were firing canisters of tear gas into the crowds and what I hoped were rubber bullets.

  “Fucking Bill,” I growled.

  This was his idea of controlling things. He’d taken a quiet, subdued city and spurred them into hysteria. There was no reason for military assets to be deployed at all.