“What happened to your face?” he asked Kyla. It looked like she’d been in a fight; one of her cheeks was swollen and purple.
The girl laughed. “You know that friend I mentioned? Her name is Lance Corporal Meechum. She kicked me in the face. By accident.”
“Uh huh,” he replied distractedly, clicking his tongue in thought.
He didn’t have time for further small talk, as much as he wanted to catch up. In the short time he’d been in the van, he’d formulated a plan to shake off the soldiers who were with Kyla. When she was somewhere safe, and they could take more than sixty seconds to talk, he could establish more about who they were, whether they could be trusted, and how they were going to get Emily to real safety. “Guys, it’s not going to take them long to find us. This is the only road down on this end of Long Island. We can’t escape on it. So, what I’m going to do is let you out.”
Ted jammed on the brakes, sending Kyla toward the dashboard and Emily toward the back of his seat. “You guys should wear seatbelts,” he chuckled.
“Thanks for the warning,” Emily snarked.
“Yeah, where’d you learn to drive?” Kyla added.
“I can see having two side-seat drivers is going to be Hell.” He smiled at them both as they straightened out. “But listen, go into the woods and get to the boat. Emily knows how to pilot it.”
“Wait!” Kyla exclaimed. “We can’t leave. My friends are with the FAST Marines. They say they really need to catch up to her.” She pointed to Emily. “They said they have to get a message to her, or more people are going to die.”
“FAST Marines?” Emily asked. “It sounds familiar, but I don’t remember the acronym.”
Kyla’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t remember, either.”
“Fleet Antiterrorism Security Teams,” Ted replied in a businesslike tone. “We dealt with them a couple of times when we traveled to overseas ports where our Navy had basing rights.”
“Yes,” Kyla agreed. “They knew something about this terrorist attack. They were on the JFK because they tried to get ahead of it, but they were as surprised as everyone else when all the sailors disappeared.”
He pushed the button to open the sliding door on the passenger side, then he turned to face both women. “Listen, we don’t know who we can trust outside this van. Get to the boat, then go to Martha’s Vineyard. I’ll go down to the airfield we passed and get myself over there as soon as I can.”
“Why can’t we all go in the boat?” Kyla asked.
“He’s going to play the hero,” Emily said in a I’m-not-impressed voice. “So we can get away.”
Put like that, he did feel a little dramatic about the whole thing, but he wasn’t going to underestimate the enemy, even for a second. As long as no one saw the women get out of the van, they’d think they were with him. He’d drive around for a little bit—long enough to let Emily get the boat over to the next island. If the men who’d brought Kyla were the good guys, then there’d be no harm, no foul. If they were the bad guys…
It was a good plan…as long as they got out at that moment.
“Please, get out. Let me do my thing, and you two do yours. This is going to work.”
Neither woman seemed to believe him, but Emily slid out the side door. “Come on. You and I will probably end up saving him, anyway.” The VP smiled sideways at Ted, inserting a pang of regret in his side, probably as she’d intended.
Kyla opened the door, but she hesitated. “I barely got a chance to say hello after finding you again. If you die, I won’t have anyone left.”
He opened his mouth, thinking he was going to have to comfort her, but she went on. “So, don’t die, Unk.”
She hopped out, slammed the door shut, and ran into the woods behind Emily.
They grow up so fast.
Amarillo, TX
Brent launched into a little pep talk as he stood at the threshold of the building. “Gentlemen, I know I’m supposed to represent the law, or whatever, out here, but everything changed when they attacked this great nation. When we walk through these doors, I’m giving us all permission to take whatever we need to fight back. It isn’t theft; it’s commandeering. Do you understand?”
The ex-convicts all nodded and mumbled agreement.
“Then let’s get this over with. You all know what we need.” He led the way through the sliding glass doors of the Walmart. The power was off, so they had to pull them manually, but it didn’t take long. Once inside, there were a few dim emergency lights in the ceiling, which cast a twilight ambiance over all the aisles, including the fallen clothes of the vanished shoppers.
“Let’s add flashlights to our list,” he said matter-of-factly. “They’ll be in sporting goods. I’ll grab the batteries.”
“I need one of these,” Andre said in a business-like tone as he grabbed a huge flat panel TV set up near the front door. He was normally a quiet man, mid-forties, who’d been sent up the river because he set up a fake charity and collected online funds from it.
He and Carter were cellmates, so Carter was closest to him after he’d said it. “The hell you do. It wouldn’t even fit in our cell.”
“So, we’ll get a bigger cell,” Andre joked. “Better yet, I’ll kick you out and put it on your bed.”
“Be my guest, you no good—”
“No extras,” Brent chided, knowing they were kidding.
Carter looked back as he walked away. “If that TV is in our truck when we get outside, I’m chucking it back out.”
Everyone laughed as they split up, each going to their assigned goals. Brent thought he’d done a good job of explaining what they were doing, and the men held together remarkably well for a random bunch of survivors from a state prison. However, no matter how many supplies they took from the store, or how many guns they collected, it would be dangerous business trying to fight the invaders. His acid reflux was at the high-water mark in his stomach, suggesting he make a pit stop in the pharmacy section to stock up on antacids.
One old coot leading young guns against the most destructive terrorist group in history. What could go wrong?
It all came together a half-hour later. Some of the men had lingered, leading him to wonder if they’d stocked up on illicit gear like smokes and booze, or, god forbid, fifty-inch televisions, but he didn’t make a big deal out of it. They were all volunteers, and he didn’t think they’d respond well to true military discipline.
“All right. Good job. We’ve got backpacks, flashlights, FRS radios, and all the shotgun ammo we can carry. Is there anything we’re missing?” He glanced around at them, sure he saw a few extra gold necklaces and watches. Did Walmart even have jewelry worth stealing?
“Can we have a crack at the front registers?” one of the guys asked. Others laughed.
He sighed. “Frankly, I don’t care. Grab all the money, if you want, but I don’t think it will do you any good. No one’s around to take it if you wanted to buy something. The government itself isn’t around, either. It’s basically worthless paper.”
That seemed to settle them.
“However, I see some of you now have watches on. I want you all to go to the watch section and get your own watch. We’ll want to synchronize them so we’re all on the same time, down to the second.”
“Why is that, boss?” one of the guys asked.
“Because when we attack those bastards, we have to do it at the same time, or some of us could die.”
That really shut them up.
CHAPTER 9
Montauk Airfield, NY
Ted suffered guilt for letting both women out of his sight, as it went against his keep-them-close protective wiring, but he was convinced the decoy gambit was their only viable option. After swooping in and stealing Kyla without a shot, he didn’t want to depend on surprise again. If anyone was going to fire guns, it would be at him, not her. It was the very least he could do for Rebecca to take care of her only daughter.
After dropping them off, he continued on
the narrow forest road for another few miles until he found the airfield. The tiny airport was a far cry from the one in Harrisburg. It had no terminals, towers, or National Guard station. Instead, it only had one small shack serving as the radio and control center, with a dozen parked single-engine craft nearby. At least it was paved. He’d been on smaller fields that were literally strips of grass.
Finding an operational aircraft was a lot more difficult, however. It didn’t look like any of the planes had been caught taxiing during the attack, so there weren’t any conveniently-placed Cessnas ready for him to borrow.
On a hunch, he went into the radio shack. Small fields like the one at Montauk were often manned by volunteers, and those volunteers almost always had a love of flight that drew them to the lifestyle, including ownership of planes. He went right for the bundle of clothing piled on a chair by the radio; the keys were inside one of his pockets.
From there, it only took a little effort to find the right plane out on the tarmac. It took him about six tries, but he found the right one as helicopter rotors echoed in the distance. At first, he listened to see if maybe the aircraft was heading for open water, and his friends, but it surprised him when it swooped in over the trees about midway down the airstrip.
“Oh, shit!” he cried out.
Ted didn’t go anywhere without his rifle, but the Seahawk helicopter banked around about twenty feet above the trees, which gave the door gunner plenty of time to zero in on him. Fighting back against an M240 machine gun was suicide. There was no way to get in the plane and take off. He couldn’t run for cover either. He was out in the open in the middle of the plane parking lot. It wasn’t bad strategy on his part, but it was bad luck.
Nice going, general mayhem. You really impressed the VP with this op.
He put his hands up as the helo closed the distance and then hovered at the close end of the runway. It put him in the terrible position of praying they were good guys. As a man in a Navy uniform got out, he let his guard down a tiny bit. A Marine woman followed, and a heavily-armed seaman in fatigues came last. They hunched over until clear of the rotors, then they jogged his way as the Seahawk lifted off again. Its starboard door gunner never let him out of the crosshairs.
The Navy man was a ship’s captain, based on his all-white uniform. He held his white service cap until the rotor wash faded. “Are you Major Ted MacInnis, US Air Force?” He held out his hand as if to shake. Ted wasn’t about to mention he’d been promised a promotion by Emily. There were proper channels, even in the Apocalypse.
Ted took the courtesy, though he didn’t like the rifles pointed at him. “We’re on the same team, right, sir?”
“It depends. I’m Captain Van Nuys of the USS John F. Kennedy. When this business kicked off, someone put a bag over my head and tossed me in a lower hold. This Marine found me.” He pointed to the woman, who wore the name Meechum; a name Kyla said was her friend. Then he motioned to the seaman. “This man with me is on my personal security team. Other than them, I trust absolutely no one.”
“Probably smart,” Ted allowed. After being betrayed by John Jefferies and that asshole Ramirez, he knew where the captain was coming from.
“Probably? No, it’s smart, Major. I need you to get smart too and tell me where the vice president has gone.” He paused for a moment. “I need to know right now.”
Van Nuys undoubtedly always got what he wanted—it was one of the perks of skippering the most expensive weapon in the US Navy—but Ted wasn’t in the Navy. He lowered his AR but kept it under his arm. “Sir, I’m doing what I think is right to protect the women traveling with me. You’ve already met my niece, Kyla Justice, but you haven’t met the other woman I was with. She’s my sister, Rebecca. She bears a passing resemblance to the vice president, so I could see why you would say that, but it isn’t her. Sir.”
The captain studied his eyes, searching for any trace of the lie he’d tossed out there. However, he seemed to make a decision and waved to his two backups. “Guys, lower your weapons.”
The seaman and the Marine both dipped their barrels, which seemed to take everyone down a notch on the stress scale. Van Nuys leaned against the fuselage of the red and white airplane he’d been testing. “Major, I appreciate what you’re doing out here. You’re one of the first people I’ve met on the outside. Hell, other than those bastards at Newark, you might be the only person alive within a thousand miles.”
“Sir, these forces aren’t just in Newark. I saw them in DC, Harrisburg, and lots of them were inside New York City.” He didn’t mind giving away that detail. If the three people in front of him were with the enemy, they’d already know where they were deployed. If, however, they were on his side, they’d need to know where to avoid the enemy.
“Good to know. When we get things up and running at full strength on the carrier, we’ll pound these guys so far into the ground, they’ll only be able to feel the furnaces of Hell.” He took a deep breath. “However, until then, I should tell you we’re searching for the vice president because she’s the only one who can lead our rump forces left here on the fringes of America. I’ve got the JFK and Iwo Jima with me, but we’ve lost contact with the rest of the fleet. We think it’s that David guy. He turned the whole world against us.”
Ted and Emily had watched the speech on TV the night before.
Van Nuys went on, “If we don’t get some real leadership, the enemy is going to pick us apart one by one. When your niece told us she saw you and the vice president, I was sure we’d finally gotten our act together. We were finally going to fight back.”
“I saw what you did in New York, sir. You delivered some good payback.” He felt marginally better about the man; why would a bad guy shoot up his own team?
“I was playing defense, Major. I had to protect my extraction helo. I risked my men to save your niece, which turned out to be a good thing, especially since she claimed to have seen the vice president.”
“No,” he insisted, “it was a case of mistaken identity. Kyla is with her mom right now. I told you—”
Van Nuys held up a hand. “Yes, I know. It wasn’t her. Why don’t we get on the chopper and go back to the JFK where we can further debrief you? Then, when you’re comfortable with our operation, maybe you’ll tell us where to find your niece and her mother. We’ll bring them in however you want. Remember, we’re all on the same team.”
“No, we’re not, sir. He’s lying.” The short-haired Marine pointed her rifle square at Ted’s chest.
Chicago, IL
Tabby and the kids rode the stolen bikes through endless blocks of the Chicago cityscape. At first, they passed taller skyscrapers and apartment complexes, but the height of the buildings decreased as they got further from downtown. Later, they made it to a monotonous section of strip mall storefronts for sandwich shops, payday loans, and autobody shops. The seemingly endless repetition, along with the utter silence of what should have been a bustling city street, threatened to drive her mad.
“Will someone say something,” she requested. “Tell me what you were learning in school, or if you learned anything when you came to the Bonne Terre mine. Anything. I want to hear it.”
Peter laughed a little. “You mean before the place caught on fire? I learned some people have really shitty jobs in this world. I mean, who would want to work in an underground mine, with dynamite, while always worrying if the whole place was on the verge of collapsing on your head? Not me, thanks.”
Tabby knew what he meant, since she’d been there on the tour, but she could only think what the mine was doing in the present time. It was as silent down there as it was on the street in front of her. For a few pedal strokes, all she wanted to do was turn around and somehow blow up those drones. Incur a small financial penalty upon the terrorists as payback for the larger toll they’d dealt to the country. Her anger only lasted another block. The silence was broken by panting animals.
Three dogs walked in the middle of a cross street almost next to them. She d
idn’t know the breeds, but they were medium build, mostly dark-colored, and didn’t look like they had leashes or collars. Once they saw her, the creatures dropped their happy indifference and instead came at them like barking sharks.
“Go!” she screamed, immediately standing and pumping the pedals like a madwoman. Audrey and Peter followed her lead, standing and pedaling, but the dogs were at least twice as fast in their initial burst of speed.
The leader went directly for her. She allowed Peter and Audrey’s bikes to stay out front. What kind of protector would she be if she left the younger kids in the dust?
Knowing there was no avoiding it, Tabby swung her foot in a clumsy kick toward the dog’s snout. “Take this!” She missed its head but clipped the side of its neck. The dog veered right at the last possible second, as if realizing it was dangerous to bite at the metal contraption and the person attached to it. However, it reoriented while sprinting and appeared to search for a way to nip at her again.
Her effort to protect the teens was only partly successful. The other two dogs passed Tabby and zeroed in on Audrey. “Get them off me!” the girl screeched.
Tabby looked down to her own attacker. The little beast snapped at her shoe each time it circled the crank. She tried to kick it again, but the move cost her speed. The next time her foot came around, she kept pedaling. That should have been the end of it, but the mutt wouldn’t back down. As it continued to lunge at her, she got more pissed off than scared, and she wanted to fight back.
Don’t mess with us.
Tabby summoned all her pent-up anger about Donovan’s murder and drew it into her lungs. She let the bike coast while bending over toward the canine’s face, then let it all out with a primal scream. “Bad dog!”
The mutt spun aside and lowered its tail, as if surprised into submission.
Seeing the opportunity open, she pedaled as fast as her lungs and legs would allow and quickly caught up to the other two dogs, creating a wedge between them and Audrey. They seemed surprised to see her and drifted aside, then they dropped back. Maybe they were lost without their leader.
Minus America Box Set | Books 1-5 Page 50
