They’d stopped near an overpass. Below him, to the left and right, the tree-lined residential streets offered more anonymity.
“Go! Get below this bridge and then we’ll go from there.” Ted scrambled to grab his gun and backpack, then he struggled to force his door open. It opened about a foot, then banged into the wall.
“Take a deep breath, dumbass,” he said to himself. After shutting the door, he slid across the center console and hurried out Emily’s door. He closed that too as another way to blend the car back into traffic. An open door would be a giveaway that someone had used it after the attack on America.
She was already running over the side of the highway and down the embankment.
The engine whine of multiple drones carried across the quiet landscape. One of them came from behind, like it had finally caught up to them. Its distinctive wing configuration and weapons payload lined up along the crowded highway.
Orange fire spurted from underneath the bird, signaling the launch of a missile.
“Dive!” Ted dove behind a nearby truck, then rolled toward the slope where Emily had gone.
The screaming hiss of missile thrust whipped by the instant before an explosion. A blast of heat washed over him as he tumbled down the hill and small pieces of metal rained all around. He came to a stop near the bottom, and looked up toward the highway—
A flaming four-door sedan rolled down the hill.
“Jump!” Emily shouted from somewhere far away.
The car bounced left and right, so it was hard to pick a side. In the end, he guessed and stumbled to his right to get out of its way.
The wreck bounced by, hitting a tree trunk close to where he’d been standing.
Ted fell to the ground panting after the quick bursts of energy.
“We have to keep going!” Emily said, again from somewhere far away. No, she was close… He saw her twenty feet from him. The problem was in his head. His ears rang from the concussive blast, muffling the sounds.
“To the tunnel!” he said, as if remembering why he’d abandoned the car.
Somehow, he still had his pack in his hands, so he slung it over both shoulders and started to run along the street that ran under the highway. When they’d gone about a quarter of a mile, he turned back to see where they’d come from.
Emily stopped with him. “Do you think they’ll give up?”
“No,” he said without a pause. “I’m sure they saw us escape. Our only hope now is that they don’t see us go into the tunnel.”
He pulled at her hand to keep her on the move.
By the time they’d gotten within sight of the tunnel entrance, there were three Predator drones cutting across the sky above them. If they were all armed, it meant there were five Hellfire missiles with the names Ted and Emily on them.
“I see the way down,” he whispered. “We go through those trees, stay under that billboard, then climb down the rock wall.” The tunnel entrance was basically a long ramp that went into the earth. Three individual tubes carried two lanes of traffic each, and it appeared as if the two tunnels on the right were going into the city because they were stuffed with cars and trucks. The one on the left must have been coming out of New York, because there wasn’t a car on it.
She whispered back, “We’ll be exposed. Are you sure? Maybe we can wait now? Until dark?”
“Nah. Nighttime is still hours away. They used an expensive missile on our car. They can’t have missed us tumbling down that hill. I’d bet anything they’re going to send in ground forces to investigate.”
Emily rubbed her neck. “I’m going back to the gym after this. I should have after running that half-marathon, but politicking has made me soft.”
He didn’t think that was true at all. She might have been petite, but she wasn’t weak or out of shape. She’d been keeping up with him on their journey like a boss. It wasn’t by chance he’d been looking at her legs when they were back on Air Force Two...
“Get a grip,” he ordered himself. It wasn’t the time to be checking out the President of the United States. Not now, not ever.
“Move out,” he ordered.
They hopped a small black fence, then climbed over the edge of the rock wall marking the border of the ramp area going down toward the tunnels. He hopped onto a small ledge, then waited for her to do the same.
“I hear them,” she said with rising panic.
“Me, too,” he admitted. “Don’t stop.”
The next leg was a drop of about ten feet to the asphalt below. He first chucked his backpack down, then hung off the ledge to let himself fall after it. When he hit the ground, he scooped up his bag and waited for her.
She dropped down right as he looked up. Emily stuck the landing but stumbled back a few steps as she struggled to gain her balance. That sent her right into his arms.
“Got ya!” he whooped in triumph. They’d come down next to the empty tunnel going out of the city, which was the one he’d wanted, but before she could turn around or say thank you, he shoved her hard toward the tunnel entrance before them.
Outside, the growl of a missile launch suggested they were out of time.
“Run!” His voice echoed in the tunnel.
St. Louis, MO
“My name is Tabitha Breeze. I’m from Bonne Terre, Missouri. I survived the poison gas with three students from Seckman High School.” She relayed all the names, but also had Peter, Audrey, and Donovan stand next to her at the desk. “We are here in the studios of Channel 5. Please help us evacuate.”
She looked around, not sure what to add.
“There are also a couple of sanitation workers.” She looked at Gus and Vinny. “Would you two like to say a few words?”
Both men crowded into the shot. Gus stated his name and occupation with the sewer company, but his message was more personal. “MJ, if you’re still alive, I’ll be here waiting for you.”
The old man looked to his partner. Vinny turned to the camera, gave his name and address, then seemed at a loss for what to say next.
She leaned his way. “You don’t have to say anything more.”
“I know,” he agreed, “but I guess I want to say something to my parents. If you get this broadcast, I’m sorry for saying those mean things before I left…”
The air became stale as they all stared vacantly into the camera. Tabby imagined they’d found a method of rescue, but it was going to take time before someone saw the message and came to get them. It was no different than stuffing a letter in a bottle and throwing it in the ocean.
What started with so much hope and excitement now ended with uncertainty.
Vinny and Gus walked away from the news desk, but the kids stayed with her.
“We must look pretty badass,” Peter remarked, holding his shotgun for the camera and bending awkwardly at the waist to show off his police utility belt.
Tabby was horrified. She faced the camera again, too. “I didn’t give guns to the children. We found these at an empty police station. I promise we’ll give them back as soon as we find someone in charge, which I hope is soon…”
Donovan teared up.
“What is it, D?” she asked with sympathy.
He stood up and moved out of the frame of the camera. She unclipped the mic and followed.
“This is pointless. Our parents are all dead—”
“Not mine,” she interjected.
“Fine. Whatever. My parents are dead. We saw them at my house. What am I supposed to do? I don’t even know if any of my relatives are alive. Should I go look for them?”
“No!” she answered. Her job was to keep them together until they found the authorities. They had to be getting close to that. “Well, I mean, not yet. Once this message gets to whoever is watching the news, we’ll be rescued. Those are the people who will help you find your family again.”
He sniffled but seemed content.
She, however, became aware of Gus looking at her from across the studio. He’d gotten out another cigarette and tugged at
it furiously, as if thinking hard about his next move.
After what she’d said on camera about the guns, it seemed hypocritical to wish she’d brought her shotgun, but the creepy vibe wouldn’t go away. She secretly enjoyed the rub of the pistol against the small of her back. It gave her comfort to know it was there, and it maintained her feeling of being in charge.
“Gather up, guys,” she said to the kids. “We’re going to wait in the front lobby so we can see when help is coming.” She thought it would also be a good place to go in case they needed to get away from Gus.
The gray-haired man continued to focus his eyes on her, but she ignored him as she walked by. Tabby glanced over her shoulder as she exited the studio to make sure the kids followed.
“Shit,” she muttered. The guy had moved next to the doorway, probably to watch her walk away, creeper style.
Tabby’s nerves were on an electricity-fueled edge because she wanted to be anywhere but there. If she could get her friends gathered, maybe they could slip away. They’d jump out when help arrived…
Donovan and Audrey came through the doorway after her, but Peter lagged behind like he owned the place. He’d hefted the shotgun, so it balanced on his right shoulder. It was ripe for plucking…
Peter, you fool.
She opened her mouth to say something, but it was already too late.
Gus hit Peter’s shotgun barrel, which popped Audrey Two up and out of the boy’s hand. Because he didn’t have a good grip, it rolled over his back, right into Gus’s arms.
“What the hell, man!” the boy screamed in agony.
Tabby fumbled for her pistol a moment after Gus captured the gun. Peter had fallen to one side, away from Gus, as if dodging an attack. Audrey and Donovan barely looked back because they didn’t understand what had happened.
“Move!” she shouted.
The kids scrambled in multiple directions, making it hard for her to properly aim the pistol. Gus wasn’t encumbered by such worries. He brought the shotgun to bear on the first person he could.
Tabby had the advantage. Her pistol was at the ready and aimed at the filthy nametag of the sanitation worker, even as his shotgun came up.
All she had to do was pull the trigger.
CHAPTER 18
Newark, NJ
“Help!” Kyla screamed.
The helicopter banked in a tight left turn, as if the pilot wanted to reverse course the second he saw the explosion at the overpass. The g-forces kept her pinned to the outside skin of the aircraft, and the tether was the only thing keeping her from falling to the houses below.
She noticed a second plane gliding down onto the highway, but the banked turn soon made her lose track of it.
“Hang on,” Meechum said calmly over the headset.
She didn’t have much choice, but as the Skyhawk straightened its flight path, she managed to pull herself along the cord. Kyla struggled to reach the door handhold.
“We going back out to sea?” Meechum asked the pilot.
Kyla didn’t care in the least about that; she only wanted some help climbing back in. However, rather than flap in the wind waiting, she continued her efforts to find that handhold. The second she found it, Kyla pulled herself onto the cargo hold floor.
Meechum grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her away from the door. “Girl, you almost did a no-chute para-jump. That’s hardcore!”
She didn’t feel like it was worthy of such praise. The helicopter bumped up and down as they hit some turbulence, which made them both grab onto the back row of seats. She was so scared she laughed maniacally. “I think I’m going to puke!”
“Not on me, dudette! Just don’t let go, okay?”
Kyla and Meechum got in their seats and buckled in. Almost immediately after making the seatbelt click, the pilot banked them again, but she was ready for it.
A voice interrupted her headset. “Looks like an old-model Predator drone is taking off from the Newark Airport.”
She and Meechum shared concerned looks.
“We have another drone between us and the ocean. It was already in the air.” The pilot angled the helicopter away from the coast and toward Staten Island. “I’m going to see if I can get around it.”
Kyla was already nervous to the point of throwing up, but the rollercoaster ups and downs almost brought up her breakfast. The large earmuff headphones blocked out most of the sound, but there were buzzing alarms up by the pilot she heard with near-perfect clarity. She didn’t know what they were for, but it had to be related to the air pursuit closing in on them.
She found it helped when she focused herself out the side door, down to the homes and streets below. As she looked out on the urban sprawl, New York City and the surrounding rivers came into view. Closer, a bit to the north of Staten Island, she caught sight of the Newark Airport as well as a bunch of huge ships actively unloading shipping containers at a port facility already filled with them.
“Just breathe,” she reassured herself. “That’s how you get through this.”
Meechum, for once, looked almost as uncomfortable as her. “How are you doing?” she asked the Marine.
The blonde-haired woman glanced sideways at her, almost to the point of being offended, but then she relented a bit. “I hate flying!”
“Really? I didn’t think anything could get you down. Hell, you were sitting on the edge a second ago!” She didn’t tell the woman she’d inspired her to do the same.
Meechum grinned. “I hate not being in control, that’s all.”
Kyla had spent her life leaving the control to someone else. Working for the Navy was all about following orders and doing as she was told, even if she wasn’t formally in a uniform. Nothing happened without massive packets of orders and guidelines.
The pilot drove them in wild circles for a couple of minutes before he came back on the intercom. “I can’t get around these bastards. I think they’re trying to box us in, so we’re forced to land close to the airport. I don’t think Captain Van Nuys would approve of that.”
Meechum spoke to the pilot. “Can you put us down at Battery Park? We can finish our mission while also distracting the enemy from you. Maybe that will help you get away.”
“Seriously? You want me to put you in the city?”
“Yeah,” Kyla agreed, “are you sure that’s wise?”
The Marine nodded. “I was given a mission to investigate New York. We’ll either find some people there, or we won’t. Either way, I can go back to the ship and give Carthager some actionable intel he can then give to the captain.”
“Damn,” Kyla said quietly.
The bottom dropped out as the pilot shredded some more altitude, then the scenery outside turned to all water. They were now south of the city, heading toward the blocky skyline.
“I’ll go with you,” Kyla added, surprised to hear herself say it. Getting out wasn’t what she had in mind when she climbed aboard earlier, but she was committed to staying with her new friend.
The pilot worked the commands and spoke to someone on a different channel. A minute later, he reported to Meechum. “The JFK has cleared you to hop out. I’ll drop you at Battery Park, like you requested. Up ahead.”
Meechum held the mic to her face. “You’re coming back for us, right?”
“Affirmative. I don’t know if I can shake those guys, but I’m going to try.”
She had no idea how fast the helicopter could go, but it seemed like the pilot was pushing it to the limit. They passed over more of the giant ships stacked with containers, and they went by another series of docks with massive cranes designed to pull the containers off the deck. They also passed the Statue of Liberty, which she saw from a couple of hundred feet away, outside her door.
And the colossal fire was always there, with a smoke plume rising to the heavens.
“This is crazy,” she said to herself, forgetting Meechum could hear her.
“I’ll take care of you, dudette. Don’t get scared on me, okay?”
“Oh, I’m scared, but I’ll get over it. What’s going to happen to the pilot? Won’t they shoot him down?”
Meechum shrugged. “You know these Navy jocks. They like to be the hero.”
The pilot laughed. “If they force me down, it’s better if you two aren’t on board. Get to Central Park. If I get clear, I’ll come back later, I promise. I’ll pick you up there.”
Kyla didn’t like the plan at all, but she still knew enough not to tell military people how to do their jobs.
“Roger that,” she said at the same time as Meechum.
The other woman smiled at her. “You’re getting the hang of this.”
Then the Marine picked up her rifle.
Lincoln Tunnel, NY
Ted and Emily didn’t stick around the exit to see where the Hellfire missile landed. They ran into the well-lit automotive tunnel and didn’t slow until they went around a curve. During the entire run, he’d imagined the missile skipping off the pavement as it cruised by them. However, that was the cartoon version. In the real world, it would explode on impact and kill them from a distance because there was nowhere else for the blast and shrapnel to go.
When they came to an abandoned taxi, he checked the door and then climbed inside. “We. Have. Keys.” His breathing was labored from the sprint.
Emily got in, huffing the same way. “Did they shoot at us?”
The answer made all the difference. If they’d been the target, it meant someone knew they were in the tunnel. If the target was something else, like their wrecked Camaro, it could mean they’d escaped.
“I’m not even going to guess. Either way, we have to keep moving.”
He tried to start the motor, but realized the key was already turned. The engine had idled itself out of fuel.
“Damn! We need a different car. A stick!”
They both got out and trotted fifty yards to the next vehicle. That one was an automatic, too, and it was also out of gas. They tried two more before finding an old stick shift.
“Eesh, this thing is a shit-barn,” he remarked. The make and model were unknown, but it reminded him of an old Yugo. It was small and ugly, but it did start.
Their bag and guns filled up the back seat.
Minus America Box Set | Books 1-5 Page 35
