Minus America Box Set | Books 1-5

by Isherwood, E. E.

  “Pick the hell up,” he ordered through the phone.

  It rang for twenty seconds before he slammed the handset down. He might have had better luck with some of the small jurisdictions around Amarillo, but even if they picked up, they wouldn’t be likely to drive all the way up to the prison, then go even further to reach Trish’s trailer park.

  The six orange-suited prisoners had congregated outside the open door of the security booth. For the twentieth time, he acknowledged how easy it would be for them to bum rush him in the small chamber, take his gun, and then…

  He shook his head to clear his brain. There was no time for second-guessing.

  “What’s up, boss?” Paul asked from the doorway.

  Brent chewed on his bottom lip, worried that he’d regret what he was going to do next.

  “Come with me, guys,” he said, jetting out of the booth.

  The six men followed him up the steps and down the main level concourse. He’d closed the bars for the hallway to the administrative offices, but now he opened them.

  He spoke again once he got into the warden’s wing. “Yesterday, I went home, not sure what I was going to do without my friends. You get to be my age and friends are hard to come by. They die off at an alarming rate, and I’m talking about even before this disaster struck.”

  Brent pulled out a glob of keys and found the one he needed.

  “Anyway, I came back because I realized at least one of my friends was still alive. She was sweet, sassy, and tough as nuts when the manure spanked the fan.”

  “Aw, thanks, boss,” one of the men at the back joked.

  “No, you dumbass,” Paul replied. “He’s talking about Ms. Trish.” He turned to Brent. “You have the hots for her?”

  Brent laughed. Maybe if he’d had a billion dollars, she’d find him attractive for his money, but he was about forty years older than her. In this part of Texas, that made him like a grandfather to her. And, if he was honest with himself, he thought of her more like a daughter than someone he had the hots for.

  “No, I didn’t,” he said dryly. “But some of the prisoners I let go last night must have an interest in her.”

  He went into the nondescript office next to the warden’s. The lights were off, and there were no windows, so he had to flick on the switch. He continued to a second door on the back wall.

  “Who?” one of the men behind him asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I should have asked her, but it didn’t matter to me. I made a mistake not telling Trish and the other guards I was opening the cells. She shouldn’t have to suffer for it.”

  He hurriedly unlocked the next door but stepped in front of it before opening it. “You guys are small-time criminals. I never did hold that against you, and I tried to be neighborly in our day-to-day so you wouldn’t become worse men for having been here. I always thought of minimum security as a second chance for guys like you. But once I open this door, your second chance is going to directly impact me and my young friend. I hope you’ll take this trust and give it back to me by doing one small favor.”

  “What do you want, boss?” Paul the hippy-haired man asked with great interest.

  Brent swung open the door to reveal the armory.

  “I want you to help me rescue Trish.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Harrisburg, PA

  “Ted, you know I trust you, but are you sure about this?” Emily followed him outside the Air National Guard offices, but he stopped at some tall shrubs at the edge of the tarmac.

  “I think so.” He caught his breath for a second and steeled himself for the next part. “Yes. If we can get to that plane, we can head east faster than any other mode of transportation.”

  “But won’t they see us? Isn’t that why we couldn’t use the radio?”

  He shook his head and pointed to the bridge upstream. “That’s why we’re waiting for them to get across. You and I went right for the railroad tracks, which got us here in the most direct route. They’ll have to take surface streets, which should keep the bulk of the airport between us and them.” He ran his fingers through his hair while thinking of every possibility he could. “I don’t know. It’s a risk, but maybe they won’t see us take off.”

  Emily cinched the shirt tied around her waist, like she was ready to do as he asked. Together, they watched the big plow clear the rest of the bridge, then drive over the near side, which was free of cars. Five or six Humvees followed behind.

  The second they all made it across the bridge and went behind the tree canopy, he tapped her on the shoulder, then pointed to the plane. “Run!”

  He was drenched in sweat again by the time he reached the little Cessna 172. It had come to a stop out in the middle of the taxiway and he took a chance that meant the pilot was either heading in or out when the attack happened. After wiping the sweat from his eyes, he peered inside.

  “Yes!” he huffed. “They’re in there.” Ted thought about how that sounded. “Well, what I mean is we have a chance now.”

  Emily patted him on the shoulder. “It’s all right. I know what you meant. The clothes are just clothes now. Not people.”

  He opened the door. Two sets of outfits were on the front seats, including two large pairs of headphones with attached mics. More importantly, the key was already in the ignition.

  “I’m sorry,” he said as he pulled the clothes out and threw them on the ground. “Get in,” he said to her. He shoved their equipment in the back compartment.

  While she ran around the front, he hopped in and got settled. He could skip almost all the pre-flight checks because the plane was already operational, or it wouldn’t have been where it was. He set the fuel mixture and throttle where he wanted them, then waited for Emily to climb in.

  “This is like being in your Jeep,” she commented as she put on her seat belt.

  “A little,” he agreed. “A bit cozier.”

  He glanced up front to check for anyone walking nearby. When Emily saw what he was doing, she tipped open her window and yelled, “Clear prop!”

  They shared a look.

  She winked. “I’ve been flying since I was a kid, remember?”

  “How could I forget?”

  After he turned the key, the plane’s propeller sparked to life. The sound level was loud, but not obnoxious.

  “Here, did you see this?” He handed the headphones to her. Once on, he added, “Can you hear me?”

  “Check,” she replied.

  Ted did a cursory inspection of oil pressure, fuel level, and avionics, but he left the transponder off. That was a no-no back when things were normal, but now he planned to fly off the grid. No need to broadcast their flight plan to a dangerous world.

  The 172 was the plane model he’d learned to fly decades ago. It was one of the most common aircraft in the world, and flying it was rudimentary compared to the jumbo airframes he’d been tossing around. He had the plane taxiing toward the runway in moments.

  “We’re flying with visual flight rules today,” he said in a cheery voice. He didn’t want Emily to know how worried he was that they’d be seen.

  “There’s no one in the tower to clear us anyway,” she added.

  He glanced back to the tower as second-nature and caught sight of movement at the end of the runway. “Dammit! They’re already here! They must have gone off road to get down the railroad grade like we did.” They had four-wheel drive trucks; he should have anticipated they’d disobey traffic rules.

  “Go, go, go!” she insisted.

  He was faced with another dilemma. They were at the end of the commercial runway, which was probably 10,000 feet long. If they took off toward the trucks, and they shot at them, they might end up in a fiery wreck like Airforce Two.

  Emily seemed to notice the problem immediately. “We have to take off downriver.” She pointed left, which was also the ending of the strip.

  Ted hit the throttle and headed out onto the runway.

  “I think they’ve spotted us.” He
pointed to the trucks through the front glass. Two of them drove toward the buildings, but three others turned to get on the runway, as if intending to block their departure. The Humvees sped down the strip side by side to cover the most ground.

  “There won’t be enough space,” she said sensibly.

  Ted continued to taxi as fast as he dared right toward the trucks.

  “Oh, Ted, you’re giving me a heart attack.”

  He expected gunfire to come barreling at them, but so far, the trucks seemed content to speed their way. Maybe the guys inside wanted to make sure he and Emily were the bad guys before killing them?

  Ted went as far down the runway as he dared, then jammed on the brakes and turned them around. There was no rearview mirror, but he guessed the trucks were a couple thousand feet behind them. Well within rifle range if they wanted to hit the giant metal target.

  “Here we go!” He adjusted the fuel mixture, and for one stomach-clenching moment, the engine bogged and threatened to stop, but it got stronger a moment later. He gave it more throttle and held the yolk as they started down the short section of runway.

  Emily held her lap belt as if frozen with fear.

  “How do we look over there?” he asked, simply as a way to make her feel useful.

  She looked out her window. “Clear to the end.”

  The Cessna was probably as old as he was—they’d been making nearly the same model since the 1950s—but the engine sounded strong, and he gave it as much throttle as he thought it could take.

  “We’re well inside the thousand-foot threshold,” she advised.

  “With a slight headwind,” he countered. He guessed they had five-hundred feet until the end of the paved runway. Beyond that, there were a few navigation lights, then the river. “I’ll tell you when it’s safe to get up and move about the cabin,” he mused.

  It was always important to keep the passengers happy.

  A “pling” sound made him and Emily look at each other.

  “Was that a gunshot?” she asked.

  St. Louis, MO

  “Oh my god!” Tabby blurted out. “Someone hit us!” Her heart had stopped beating for a few seconds, but now it came rushing back like a tidal wave. Her breathing became erratic as she fought the panic.

  “Quick! Get the guns!”

  The truck struck them in the rear, but they’d been moving slow, so no one inside her car got hurt. However, the three kids seemed as jittery as her.

  She gripped her shotgun, fought to get her seatbelt off, then opened the door. Belatedly, she put her foot on the emergency brake to keep it from moving.

  The four of them spilled out of their respective doors, guns at various states of readiness.

  Peter was behind Tabby, and he had his gun raised at the two men in the white truck. Audrey’s shotgun slid out the door when she opened it, and she cussed at herself for letting it drop to the cement.

  “Come out!” Tabby yelled to the other occupants when she finally got herself together.

  As she stood there with her shotgun, she wondered why holding the gun was her first thought after the crash. Shouldn’t she be getting out insurance information?

  The driver put up his hands and spoke out the open window. “Don’t shoot.” All she could see was his face, because he sat high up in the truck. However, it was covered in dirt, like he’d spent a lot of time working on cars in a garage. His white and gray mustache was stained with dirt, too.

  The passenger was younger and not as dirty. He put his hands up like his friend.

  She strode past Peter and put some space between her and the driver, but she wanted to get a better look at him and his truck. The giant vehicle had a large cylinder in the back, as if it was used to deliver water. It said MSD, with a picture of the Arch on it.

  “We don’t want to mess with your operation,” she advised. “All we want to do is find the cordon.”

  The older guy laughed. “You think we’re with them?”

  She pointed at the Arch symbol.

  “We’re with the Metropolitan Sewer District. M-S-D.”

  “Oh,” she breathed out, feeling a tiny bit better.

  The man went on. “We’ve been watching the Arch since this morning. Hoping we’d see some people who weren’t playing with computer toys.”

  “So, you really aren’t with them?” Peter pressed.

  “Nope.”

  “Who are they?” Tabby wondered aloud, lowering her shotgun a bit.

  “No idea, but they are the only people we’ve seen in the city since we came out of our job site yesterday. We spent a free night up in the Riverside Hotel, but it wasn’t as fun as you’d think. It was like we were in a haunted city. The lights were on, but nobody was home.”

  That described her experience to a T. Driving into St. Louis was like going into a cemetery. She should have been overjoyed to see signs of life under the Arch, but now she felt better about doubting the whole thing. Here was someone else expressing the same misgivings.

  Tabby finally pointed the shotgun at the ground. “We’re sorry for the guns. I think we’re all scared out of our minds.”

  “I’m not,” Peter bragged as he patted the pistol in his police belt. He lowered his shotgun, though.

  She pointed back down the path. “We should get out of here. They have tractors and drones and all kinds of weird…things…that could come get us.”

  “That’s what we saw from up there.” He pointed to the round hotel at the edge of the Arch property. “We came down here to stop you from going in, but we didn’t expect you to drive on the path.” The guy chuckled. “I’m Gus, by the way. My partner here is Vinny.”

  “Hey,” the other guy said. She could barely see him from her perspective on foot.

  “Agreed on leaving,” Gus said matter-of-factly. “Why don’t you follow us? I’ll take us into the city where we can talk.”

  “No way!” Peter burst out.

  “Wait,” Tabby said in a more measured tone. “We’ll get back in our car and follow you, but don’t try to lead us to those people.” She thumbed in the direction of the Arch.

  Gus smiled, though he was missing a couple of his teeth, making him look like a hobo who had happened upon the truck, rather than an employee of the company.

  “Donovan, guys, let’s get back in.” Tabby ushered them inside the car like a sheepdog with a wild flock.

  Peter seemed to resist. He kept his shotgun at the ready and took small steps in reverse, like the two men were going to get the drop on him. Eventually, however, he jumped in the backseat.

  Tabby got in a few seconds later.

  After setting the gun on the floor between her and Donovan, she took a few seconds to let the fear shake out of her. They’d found more people who’d survived the disaster, but it didn’t instill nearly the same confidence as when they’d happened upon Sister Rose and her dog.

  “I don’t trust them,” Peter said the second all the doors were closed.

  “I don’t, either,” she agreed. “But we need to find out what they know. Maybe they’ll tell us where we can go to get safe. Someone has to know.”

  The MSD truck pulled off the lot.

  After a second of deliberation, she decided to follow.

  CHAPTER 10

  USS John F. Kennedy

  After confirming Kyla couldn’t help with coding and notation done in a different language, the captain sent her off the bridge. She and Meechum went back to their target shooting, but the range took on a more ominous feeling for Kyla because it had the potential to become an active battlefield at any minute. They both kept one eye on the target and one on the sky.

  The other Marines took watch at both ends of the super carrier, acting as simple lookouts for the billion-dollar war machine.

  “Do you think they’ll come back?” she asked when she couldn’t take it anymore. Meechum and the other Marines never seemed to worry about anything, which made it more frustrating for her. She worried endlessly about what might b
e out there.

  “If they do, we’ll be ready. We’re topped off on ammo and have more than enough to kick anyone off the boat we don’t like.”

  Kyla shook her head. “I wish I had that kind of confidence.”

  “You can,” the short-haired woman replied as they both stuffed rounds into their pistol magazines. “You just have to believe.”

  “That sounds like Peter Pan, not someone like you.”

  Meechum turned. “What do I seem like?”

  Kyla laughed. “You’re the most intense woman I’ve ever met. How you hang with those tough guys I’ll never know. I want to be like you, but the most dangerous thing I’ve ever done, before yesterday, was a weekend hike on part of the Appalachian trail when I was in high school. And that was with a big group of people.”

  “Attitude, my young friend. The secret is to always act like you know what you’re doing. It’s something boys learn when they’re young, though I can’t understand how. Any problem these guys get, they jump in, grab it by the short hairs, and figure it out. You and me? We’ve been taught to stop and think things through. Be careful. Always look before you leap.”

  “Yep. Those last bits sound like me,” Kyla chuckled.

  “Well, unlearn all that garbage.” Meechum pointed to Kyla’s pistol. “When you’re in your bunk room tonight, take it apart. Learn the pieces. Put it back together. Then, do it again. It isn’t that hard. Get it done.”

  Meechum held up her own pistol. “When you master this, do the same for heavier stuff. Eventually, you can break down a sniper rifle in your sleep. That will earn you some points with the men.” She pointed at one of the Marines standing guard nearby.

  “I don’t really care, but have you ever gone out with one of them?”

  Meechum’s face lit up with a “girl, let me tell you” look, but it changed again when she pointed toward the coast. “Incoming!”

  Kyla had the foresight to grab an extra magazine for her pistol, then she ran with Meechum toward the island of the aircraft carrier. The other Marines on deck stayed where they were; already heavily armed.