Minus America Box Set | Books 1-5

by Isherwood, E. E.

  “Hang out here,” Meechum advised. “Let’s see what we’ve got. It’s a chopper, for sure.”

  “Not a drone?” Kyla wondered.

  They waited for a minute or two before Meechum seemed ready to give her an answer. “No alarms have gone off, so it’s one of ours. Longbow 3, I’m pretty sure.” Despite her haughty attitude, the woman was clearly glad it wasn’t an enemy.

  “Follow me,” Meechum ordered.

  Kyla didn’t want to go out on the deck, but the helicopter swooped in and landed about a hundred and fifty yards away. Meechum had her stick to her like glue.

  “Do we have to go so close?” Kyla remarked, though Meechum didn’t hear her. They continued to inch closer, until they were about fifty yards from the spinning blades of the large helicopter.

  “This Seahawk took a scout team out this morning,” Meechum yelled. “These are our people!”

  When the aircraft had settled on the deck, the rear doors opened. Kyla recognized the two men in the back. They were from Carthager’s squad.

  They hopped out and went over to Meechum like she was a customs official.

  The first guy yelled like a lion; Kyla heard him even with the wash of rotors. “We didn’t find jack squat! I hope you have better luck!”

  He patted Meechum on the shoulder, then he and the other Marine went by. They barely looked at Kyla as they headed away.

  Meechum glanced at her, then leaned in so they could chat. “The captain said two people have to go these recon missions; one for each side. Carthager also said you have to earn your keep, so how about it?”

  Kyla recoiled in horror. “Not me! I’m just a…” Meechum was a Marine. Kyla was a civilian. That seemed like enough of a liability to get her a pass from this duty, but the salty Marine didn’t seem to be in the mood for lame excuses. “I’m just not equipped to go with you.”

  Meechum pointed to Kyla’s pistol. “You’ve been training all morning. No one is going to screw with you and your weapon. If they do, just screw with them back.”

  It was the kind of thing a no-bullshit Marine like Meechum would say. Not Kyla the programmer. But she figured out the other woman was trying to help her overcome her confidence issues, so Kyla wasn’t going to disappoint. “I’ll follow your lead.”

  “That’s my dudette!”

  Harrisburg, PA

  Before Ted had a chance to worry about possibly getting hit by gunfire, the plane made it to the end of the runway.

  “Come on!” he yelled at the struggling engine.

  The Cessna 172 was a small plane with tricycle-style landing gear. The three wheels were always down, so when he pulled on the yolk to get the old craft into the proper upslope, he worried he’d hit the navigation lights and lose the tires.

  “A little more,” he said, mostly to himself.

  The plane caught an updraft the instant before hitting the lights at the edge of the field, and Ted used every last inch. However, rather than build on that success and keep going higher, he let the 172 fly at treetop level until he was out over the water. Then he dipped back down.

  “Ted, my mom was the stunt pilot. You’re making me regret this mode of transportation.”

  He settled the plane about ten feet over the Susquehanna River and stayed close to the left shore so the trees would hide them temporarily from the men at the airport.

  “I’m sorry. We barely had enough runway to get in the air. That was a near-run thing.” He had survived fighter-pilot levels of g-force training, but he’d never come as close to losing his lunch. “And I think we got hit by at least one round.”

  She looked out her window. The wing was above them, so she could easily see if there were any holes in the underside. He scanned the wing above his window, but only for a moment.

  “The river doglegs right, to the south. We’ll be visible to them for a minute or so until we get farther down the river. Hang on.”

  He angled the nose up and rose to about fifty feet.

  Emily looked out her window to the rear. “I see them back there.”

  “Are they shooting?”

  “I don’t think so. One of the trucks is going to the base, though. Another is sitting at this end of the runway, like it’s watching us leave.”

  “Damn. This is all happening faster than I thought. They’re spreading out from airport to airport, like we’d talked about.”

  The Cessna was up to speed now, so his maneuvering was more fluid as he rode above the treetops heading south. Emily saw the airstrip, which meant they saw them back. That gave him a few extra seconds to worry about getting shot.

  “Almost clear…” he said in an even voice.

  “I don’t see it anymore,” she replied. “Wait!” Emily paused for two seconds. “No, now it’s gone for good. We have an island between us and them. There’s plenty of trees blocking us.”

  Ted leaned back in his seat and exhaled all the bad air he’d been holding since takeoff. “See? I told you it would be better than walking.”

  She slapped him on the arm. “That was the shortest takeoff I’ve ever seen. You’re supposed to protect me, not get me killed.”

  He thought she was serious, but when he glanced over, she smiled at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  Emily brushed hair out of her eyes. “That was incredible! I can’t believe the Air Force made you sit in that back seat on Air Force Two. You’re an amazing pilot.”

  He was going to reply, but he had to focus on flying. The river was broad and shallow, with rocks sticking out everywhere. Ahead, a long, thin island with four distinctive cooling towers hugged the left bank; a second island sat in the middle of the wide river. It would have been easy to fly above them, but he wanted the cover they provided, so he stayed low.

  “Let’s get by the Three Mile Island nuke plant,” Ted suggested, “then we can celebrate.”

  San Francisco, CA

  Dwight sat in the middle of the intersection for a long time. His brain often gave him conflicting information, so it was hard to say for sure, but he believed he was there for at least an hour. In that whole time, no one ran him over or kicked him as they walked across the street.

  “See? That was a dumb idea, Poppy.”

  He listened to the bird talk.

  “I don’t know where they went. Let’s go to the stadium to find out. That’s where they come when they want hot dogs and popcorn.” He listened again. “No, you can’t have any!”

  Dwight had trouble getting up. His legs had fallen asleep, though he’d barely noticed until he had to use them. Much of his body was like that. It had been more than a while since he’d been to a doctor.

  Once he was on the move, it all came back to him. Walking became easier and less painful for his legs, and he almost enjoyed the stroll. Soon, he made it to the long street that would lead him to the stadium, which was visible a half-mile ahead.

  As before, there wasn’t a single car, person, or animal moving anywhere in this part of the city.

  “What?” he replied to Poppy. “I’m not counting your kind.” Birds continued to sit on power lines and in nearby trees. Pigeons walked ledges of buildings on each side, as they always did. It was beneath his notice, but not his pet bird’s.

  At some point in his long journey, he came across a friendly establishment.

  “Victoria Hennessey’s Wine and Beers.”

  Dwight looked both ways on the street. Still nothing.

  “A short detour is in order.” Poppy didn’t complain, which was comforting. She used to bitch all the time about his fondness for the happy drinks, but that had gone away.

  He walked unsteadily into the small shop, pleased to see no one inside. A person had tossed shirts and pants by the counter, but no one was standing there. An entire aisle of wine bottles was in the back.

  “Maybe just one …” He reached for whatever was first in the row. Poppy warned him against stealing, but he wasn’t listening to her guidance in the face of such a bounty. It wasn’
t some random purse; it was the open bank vault.

  His life became a blur of drinking “samples” he intended to pay for at a later date, as well as stuffing and organizing his survival gear for the remaining journey. He walked out loaded down with bottles inside two stout paper grocery bags.

  He did make it to the stadium. He remembered that much. But there was no one there. It was 50,000 seats of empty. Poppy asked him to rest, so he took a seat on second base down on the baseball field.

  When he finished another bottle, or spilled it—he wasn’t sure—he ran the bases on the baseball diamond. He pulled out another bottle when he hit home plate.

  From there, his blur became a near-blackout, though small snippets broke through the fog.

  He spent time yelling at buildings after he’d left the stadium.

  Another bottle was spent yelling at some yachts.

  Finally, he came to his wits when his brain reminded him that he didn’t know how to swim.

  “I’m in the ocean, Poppy! Save me!”

  His bird wasn’t stupid enough to drown with him. She sat on a shipping container that had washed up on a rocky beach ahead of him. If he could figure out how to swim…

  “Oh, wait.” His foot touched something. “Ha! You tricked me.” He struggled across the rock-strewn bottom and worked to get over to her. The city rose around him. The stadium was across a small inlet of the bay. He figured he’d left the stadium and walked right into the water.

  A miracle got him the fifty yards to this side.

  When he reached the shore, he realized there were victims of his mistake. The bags of wine were gone. Dwight looked into the water, hopeful they weren’t far. All he had left was one bottle, which seemed to be glued in his grip. “At least you made it,” he said to the bottle.

  He felt the eyes of the bird watching him with disapproval, but he ignored them. “Poppy, fly around and find the other bottles!”

  She remained on top of the beached shipping container.

  He glared at her, but she wouldn’t budge from her perch.

  “Fine. I’ll go back to the liquor store when I dry off.” He walked onto shore but fell over right at the front door of the giant metal box. “But right now, I’m going to take a short nap.”

  The last thing he saw was Poppy flying down to land on him. Behind her, the shipping container doors were cracked open a little…

  CHAPTER 11

  Harrisburg, PA

  “I’ve never seen a nuclear power plant from this angle,” Emily remarked as the Cessna motored by the plant. They were above the water of the river, but still below the level of the huge concrete cooling towers.

  “You didn’t tour these things as part of your political junkets and whatever you did on the campaign trails?” He was being funny, because he no longer cared about her politics.

  “These things are, pardon the pun, radioactive while out begging for votes. They scare people, even to this day. Politicians never want to be associated with things that scare voters, you know?”

  “Just a little bit of fright, right? Like a balloon popping.” He cracked up as the plant fell behind.

  “Yeah. Only enough for them to reach out and ask for our help to keep the balloon from bursting. You’ve figured out the essence of my whole career.”

  He shook his head at the thought. “Well, we both need to figure out the next leg of our journey. No politics. No delays. We have to get you somewhere safe.”

  “What are our choices?” she asked.

  Ted pointed in a circle around the plane. “We can go anywhere. We have a full tank of gas. If I remember right, that gives us about five hundred miles before we hit our reserve. Then, it’s boom.” He gestured a plane flying into the ground.

  He wasn’t as worried about range or running out of fuel. He could land the plane almost anywhere flat, including fields, highways, and beaches. All of those would be close while on the East Coast. His real fear was getting her captured. Their last close call reinforced his belief these troops were not friendly and weren’t going to treat Emily kindly if they found her. Ted also didn’t want to get himself captured, because he still needed to get to Kyla.

  She made the first suggestion. “It’s not five hundred miles to Canada. Maybe we could find help there?”

  “Maybe,” he allowed. “But when we were on board Air Force Two, we weren’t picking up any signals up there, except way out on the Atlantic coast islands. I could be a hundred percent wrong, but I think that means their country suffered the same fate as the rest of North America.”

  Ted guided the plane down the center of the river channel, staying as low to the water as possible. He flew underneath giant powerlines, which probably came directly from the nuke plant. The guys back at the airport would almost certainly be looking for them, and it would be impossible to track them on radar if they were below the tree line. But that brought up another problem.

  “We can’t stay on this path. They’ll know to look for us at the next town. The next highway crossing. Anything where they can see us along the river.”

  Emily seemed to mull it over. “So, our problem is getting somewhere where we know the people are friendly to us. DC is out. Harrisburg is out. Probably Baltimore and Richmond. Those are next in line from the capital. What about New York?”

  “Do we know anyone in New York?” His sister had been there. “Who might be alive?” he added hastily.

  “My husband was there,” she replied without emotion. “We had an apartment in Manhattan and a house out on Long Island.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said while guiding the plane over a particularly rocky section of the wide river. The boulders stuck up out of the water, suggesting a person could almost walk from one side to the other. He looked down, noting a few beach towels near shore. Evidence of the lost people followed him, even here.

  “It’s fine. I’m sure it will hit me when I least expect it, and I never wished harm to him, but we weren’t close. It was more of a marriage of convenience, given how much our families were built around politics.”

  He held firm on the yolk but looked over with skepticism. “You don’t seem like the type of gal who would put up with that.”

  There was barely an inch between them because the cabin was cramped. She shifted in her seat as if to get away from him. “And what kind of gal do I seem like?”

  His brain screamed at him as surely as any alarm on the aircraft. Danger close.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it. Honest. It’s just that the more I’ve gotten to know you, the less I see you as a politician and more as a person. I guess I’ve already forgotten a little about what the world was like before yesterday.”

  She gave him a sideways glance, but then got comfortable in her chair like she wanted to enjoy the ride.

  He kept talking. “I think I can get us to New York, navigating by the terrain. I don’t suppose you have a radio at your house on Long Island?”

  Emily thought for a few seconds. “I wish we were in Montana. I bet my dad has all kinds of radios we could use.”

  “But nothing like that at your house?” It would be ideal if he could find a shortwave radio in a private residence. It would be less likely to attract attention than any base or government facility.

  “Nope.”

  “All right. We’ll stay with the river for a mile or two, then jump out and fly to the east. As long as we stay low, we should avoid detection from radar systems. I can follow the interstate, avoid Philadelphia, and eventually we’ll see the New York skyline. From there, we can decide what we want to do. If we can find more fuel, maybe we can get up the coast and into Canada, like you said. We’ll find the Canuck airport with the working tower we heard while on Air Force Two.”

  “And if we don’t find fuel?”

  He chuckled. “Let’s not worry about that, yet. We’ve got five hundred miles until it becomes an issue.”

  The fuel gage showed they weren’t quite at full anymore. He didn’t remember this airframe
being known for burning through fuel that fast, but he did abuse the throttle on takeoff. Maybe that was where it all went.

  As he climbed above the trees at the edge of the river and turned east, he kept his eye on the fuel status as well as all the other instruments. However, he couldn’t help but wonder if Emily had been truthful about not having feelings for her dead husband. If she didn’t…

  Danger close, for sure.

  His mind bounced around with the turbulence outside. Getting to Kyla. Keeping the VP safe. Avoiding the assholes with guns. Anything but those improper thoughts.

  Ted relaxed into his seat, appreciating the familiar pedals and yoke of the pilot’s position.

  Flying was the one thing in the day he could control.

  St. Louis, MO

  Tabby followed the sewer truck to an alleyway well out of view of the tractors and drones under the Arch. She pulled up behind them and turned off the car, immediately feeling helpless.

  “We can’t trust the people under the Arch, and we can’t trust these two, either.” She shifted in her seat in order to look to Peter and Audrey. “We can only trust each other, okay?”

  “I trust you,” Peter agreed, but then he tapped his shotgun. “I trust Audrey Two as well.”

  “Aww, you named your shotgun after me?” Audrey gushed.

  Tabby’s jaw fell open at the shock of seeing the exchange.

  Peter beamed, proud of the gun in his arms.

  The girl was being sarcastic, however. “There’s something wrong with you, Pete.”

  He laughed, clearly unperturbed at her change of heart.

  She wanted to get her message across before the men got out of their truck and came over. “Keep Audrey Two on your shoulder, all right? We don’t want to accidentally shoot these guys.” She hesitated, then reiterated. “Say it with me: we don’t want to accidentally shoot anyone.”

  Peter rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

  Audrey got out of the car, looking like she got the message as well.

  Tabby opted not to carry her shotgun. It was big and awkward, and she didn’t want to deal with it. However, she wasn’t going out unarmed. She tucked the police-issue Glock into her pants behind her back, then made sure her shirt covered it.