by EE Isherwood
David looked at Charity. “Well, should we leave the two lovebirds alone? I’m sure we can both find something to do and not bother them.”
“Of course,” the redhead replied, bowing slightly while simultaneously giving Tabby a warning scowl.
She watched as David continued to observe her from the side of his eye, even as he walked away. He pretended to speak with his companion, but he was always watching her. Only when he rounded a corner did she let out the breath she’d been holding.
“Wow,” Victor said at once. “I can’t believe you know David and Charity. That’s like knowing the Secretary General and his wife.”
“Secretary General?” she asked, not sure how to respond to a person she didn’t know.
“Of the United Nations. You don’t know of him? I thought it was taught at all levels…” He eyed her suspiciously for a few seconds before breaking into a smile. “I don’t care. We all learn at different speeds. You must be a little slow. I’ll take care of you.”
She was on the verge of arguing with him, but she forced herself to play along. She smiled meekly, then waved. “Well, I’ve got to be going. Where can I meet you later?”
“Later?” he asked, hurt saturating his voice.
“Yeah. You know me. I’ve got important people to meet. People like David and Charity. I’m sure you understand…” She held out her hand to shake good-bye.
The guy took it and held her like a dead fish.
“Cheer up,” she said with real excitement at leaving him. “I’ll see you later tonight, okay?”
He warmed up. “I look forward to it.”
Tabby sensed Victor’s eyes on her as she walked down the hallway in the opposite direction David had taken. Her cheeks were on fire from the anger of being talked to as if she were stupid, but she kept the feeling balled in her fists as she finally turned a corner.
“Now, where’s the exit to this place?”
She walked for several minutes, backtracking to the hallways she’d seen before. Some of the routes were hewn from rock, while others looked exactly like they might inside a high-rise building. She figured the entrance would be on the rocky side, so she went into a long tunnel once she’d stumbled upon it. “This has to be the way.”
Along the route, she passed men and women dressed in many colors of outfits. She avoided eye contact with those dressed in the same style as her, figuring they were her peers inside the vault. They would have the most reason to speak with her. She was constantly on the lookout for anyone in white, such as Charity, or gold, like David. Those colors stood out among the many dressed in black, so she figured it would be easy to duck down a side tunnel.
The exit door was easier to find than she expected. It was up a couple of floors from where she’d started, but close to a stairwell. The square security door had the word EXIT in red block letters above it and sat at the end of an elevator room. The pair of lifts were the same style as the ones she’d seen down in the chamber with the large hole in the floor.
A couple of guards stood outside the elevator area, but she walked past them like she knew where she was going. They barely noticed her.
“I’ll see myself out,” she said to herself, confident she was home free.
“Tabby!”
She turned around. Victor came up the hallway but was about a hundred feet back. He broke into a sprint, pointing and yelling.
She ran for the big door, unsure how to open it. There was a keypad nearby, which freaked her out as an impossible puzzle to crack in the time she had. However, there was also a giant handle attached to the door.
Could it be that simple?
Tabby crossed the last ten feet and put her hand on the metal latch, but before she could yank it, a guard grabbed her hand. A few seconds later, Victor wrapped his arms around her.
Victor breathed hard from his sprint. “You can’t leave through there. David forbids it!”
“I don’t care! I have to leave this place. I don’t belong here.” The imitation of strength burned away as if being dipped in molten lava. Her voice was strained and screechy.
“It’s okay. We all get scared in here. Let me help you.” Gently, but with an ironclad grip, he picked her up off the ground, spun her around, and set her back down. He was now between her and the door.
The guards, perhaps thinking she was being tamed by a boyfriend, walked away laughing.
She whispered, “Don’t turn me in. Please.”
“I have to,” Victor answered. “David told me you would try this. He said you have a defect he wants to smooth out. At first, when I saw you, I didn’t think there could be a single thing wrong with someone as perfect as you, but now I see there’s a serious problem. David can help you overcome that fear.”
She looked up at him and bit the tip of her tongue to keep from crying. She desperately wished he wasn’t there willingly. They could both escape and run wild in the open lands beyond the door.
When she had a grip on herself, Tabby replied.
“I really don’t think he can.”
CHAPTER 12
Glendo, WY
After driving in the convoy for half an hour, Meechum became increasingly anxious. She sat up to get close to the wheel, then forced herself back into the seat. If she wasn’t observing the drivers of the other trucks, she was glancing behind.
“What are you looking for?” Kyla asked, finally unable to ignore the flighty movements.
Meechum sighed. “I should have taken those rifles and pistols. Chinese shit or not, we need to blend in better. We may not get out of this convoy before we’re discovered.”
Kyla had been on edge since the moment they’d run into the two men in the trees. Though she’d been through quite a lot since putting a bullet in her traitorous programming partner Ben back on the JFK, the act of killing didn’t seem any easier. The gunfight had been playing in her mind on a loop. However, she remembered the whole point of their escape from the cabin. “Uncle Ted! I have to call him.”
“I hope he’s not in here, too.”
Her phone was out of juice, but they’d taken one from the dead soldier. It powered on and seemed to have a full charge. However, when she tried to access the main screen, it asked for a thumbprint identification. “Oh, come on!”
“What?”
She angled the phone so Meechum could see it. “It will only open for the guy we shot.”
Meechum laughed mischievously. “Should we go back and cut off his thumb?”
Kyla was left speechless.
The Marine reached over and patted her on the shoulder, which, in turn, caused her to wince with pain at stretching it.
“Your wound,” Kyla scolded. “Be careful.”
“I’m fine. I think it’s healing nicely.”
Kyla chuckled, despite everything. “You know, all things considered, I’m glad we ended up together. If I can make myself half as tough as you, I don’t think I’ll have to be scared for the rest of my life.”
“It’s ninety-nine percent attitude. Pain and discomfort are only temporary. Badassery lasts a lifetime.” She flashed one of her rare smiles, though Kyla thought it was mostly a front for hiding her pain.
After they settled back into a routine, Kyla spoke up. “If I can’t call my uncle, and we can’t find them in this traffic, what are we going to do next?”
Meechum pointed to a green road sign. “What do you say we take a chance and get off the highway? This exit coming up looks promising. No town around. No nothing out there.” She pointed out her window to the rolling grasslands. “Heck, the previous owners of this truck did the same thing. Who’s to say we haven’t been struck by the food truck trots, too?”
“First of all, yuck. Second, how do we know they don’t have planned places where they can get off the highway? Won’t we stick out?”
The Marine shrugged. “Anything is better than getting wherever this convoy is going, then having to congregate with enemy forces. I think I’d be encouraged to shoot until the l
ast bullet if given the opportunity. I could take out fifteen or twenty of them, I bet.”
Kyla had a sudden onset of panic at thinking of her friend going into a suicidal charge. While there was no question she’d take a lot of the enemy with her, it would still leave Kyla by herself. Suddenly, being alone with the invaders seemed a fate worse than death. She tried to come off sounding upbeat. “It won’t come to that. Let’s get the hell down the ramp, like you said.”
The landscape around them hadn’t changed too much from earlier in the day. Wyoming was still the same endless sea of tall, wild grasses, with a few small hills, but it was sliced by a swath of trees ahead, as if a small river ran west to east. As best she could tell, the exit ramp was going to take them to a gravel road that paralleled the trees.
Meechum merged onto the exit ramp and whistled a quiet tune, as if to keep herself from being noticed as they gradually put distance between themselves and the tractor-trailers up on the highway. By the time they reached the intersection of the gravel road, Kyla copied the whistling, doing her best to echo the tune.
Kyla looked behind them. No one was following. “What song is that? I like it.”
Meechum checked her mirror. “It’s the Marines’ Hymn. The halls of Montezuma, and the shores of Tripoli. Someday, there’s going to be a line about the maddening grasses of Wyoming.” She hit the pedal. “We’re in the clear.”
As they turned, Kyla continued to watch the exit ramp behind them. A big crane exited the highway the second before Meechum drove them under the bridge.
Meechum continued her tune, eyes forward.
But Kyla knew they weren’t alone.
Fort Collins, CO
Ted figured they couldn’t easily escape the situation, but Darla made it impossible. She yelled at him and Emily the second she came up to Todd.
“You two! Get your asses over here. I was promised a security detail while in Fort Collins, and it looks like all your friends are protecting those stupid cranes. That makes you two my meat shields.”
He shared a worried look with Emily. She cinched her blue bandana as high as she could, then winked at him. “We got this.”
Ted firmed his grip on the rifle. “Yeah, we do.”
When they returned to the group, Darla instantly singled out Emily. “What’s wrong with you? If you’ve got the flu, I’m going to need you to stay far away from me. I can’t afford any sick days during the biggest performance of my life.”
Emily took one step back. After a brief hesitation, she spoke. “I had the flu a couple of days ago, ma’am. I don’t think I’m still contagious…”
“Enough! You stay at the edge of this parking lot. The rest of us are going to cross the street so we get the best light from the setting sun.” The reporter pointed to Ted, smiling for the first time. “But you’re coming with me. I want you attached to my hip.”
He could tell by Emily’s eyes she was on the verge of replying, probably in a not-flattering way, but he beat her to it. “My friend will be fine on this side of the street. We were going to fan out anyway, to keep an eye on as much terrain as possible. Once the trucks arrive—”
Darla held up her hand. “Just get it done. I’m here for me, not to listen to your lesson plans.”
He shrugged, then turned to Emily and spoke quietly. “Merks gotta merk. Am I right?”
She laughed. “I’ll be studying the gravel.”
He whispered, “If shooting starts, run back to the truck.” She would be closest to the SUV, since she was staying on the wide parking lot.
“You know I will,” she bragged.
“Uh huh,” he replied, watching her walk away.
“Hey, Rambo!” Darla snarked. “Stop looking at your friend’s butt and get over here.”
He whipped around. “I wasn’t—”
“Don’t care. The trucks are waiting on me. I want to get this right on the first take. I can’t turn the whole convoy around to try it again, can I?”
Todd and his assistant were already in position on the far side of the street. Darla eyed the trucks waiting in line as he crossed with her. She studied the sun, low at the western horizon, then positioned herself so the light hit her from the side. It appeared as if she was going to film herself talking to the camera with the convoy arriving at the cranes behind her. All he had to do was stay out of the way.
A minute later, Todd counted her in. Louis waved to the truckers and the line finally started moving.
“Free America! Free America! Free America! Thank David!” Darla spoke in monotone, as if it was a formal greeting, before continuing in a more casual voice. “Hello, this is Darla Kristoff for Legion News. I’m standing here at a shipping terminal in Fort Collins, Colorado, as we prepare to receive a delivery of an incredible number of robotic devices. As you can see, the convoy is massive, with hundreds of delivery trucks. I’m told this is among the top ten convoys in terms of size and tons delivered.”
In one practiced motion, Darla stepped outside the frame, though she continued speaking. “You can see they’re coming up the street six abreast. David has provided enough cranes to clear out many of them at the same time. He’s built huge receiving yards on each side of the street, where we’ll store it all.”
Darla went silent for a few moments as the rumble of truck engines filled the air. Giant tractor-trailers, once a symbol of American transportation and mobility, now served a new master. Ted’s gut hated what was being said, but he kept his silence to protect his identity.
The first truck arrived, and a crane was almost immediately swung over it.
“Zoom in on that,” Darla remarked in a friendly voice. “Let’s watch as the first heroic trucker delivers his cargo.”
Six rigs had moved side-by-side into line at the front of the loading zone, but there was only one truck with the crane already over it, so Ted had a pretty good idea where the camera guy was aiming. It happened to be exactly where Emily was standing at the edge of the parking lot. As more trucks approached, the lanes tightened up behind the leaders. He kept his eyes on his presidential girlfriend. Darla continued speaking, but he tuned her out. A much larger problem had developed.
Emily’s mask was down.
Capulin, NM
The town of Capulin was typical for the remote plains of West Texas and eastern New Mexico, except it sat below a thousand-foot triangular mountain with its top third cut off. Brent pointed to the landmark. “We’ll stop here. That extinct volcano is a tourist destination. They’ll have food and shelter we can use.”
Trish, his co-pilot, nodded in agreement. They hadn’t been on the road for more than a few hours, but it was late in the day, and they’d gotten almost no sleep the night before.
The place had a few streets, a scattering of beat-down single-wide trailers and not much else. Brent let his folks do a quick in-and-out to a tiny country store to grab food and drinks, but they were careful not to disturb any of the clothes left on the floor. He wanted to leave no trace they’d been there.
To further reduce their chances of being found, he drove a few miles outside the meager village, assuming the enemy would stay in town if they came by. He stopped at the visitors’ center for the volcano, which dominated the flat terrain to his right.
He got out, along with the rest of his people, and walked up to the front doors of the small National monument headquarters. It wasn’t too much bigger than one of those single-wides back at town. Once they’d gathered, he pointed to the nearby volcano. “If this was a military battle, we’d spend the night near the summit of that thing. It would give us a clear view of enemy troop movements for a hundred square miles.”
“Aren’t we at war?” Long asked.
They were most definitely in a war, but not in the traditional sense. It wasn’t Vietnam, which at least had rules of engagement. They weren’t a squad sent out by HQ with a specific mission, and against a known enemy. As he thought about it, it was likely the only time in his life he wished things were more like being
in Vietnam. Upon reflection, he admitted even fifty years later, his time over there still dominated his thinking.
“Yes, but right now, we want to stay close to the roads. Flight is our best means of staying alive. If we camped up there, we might never escape if the enemy came at us from below.”
Long, the Asian man who was new to his crew, seemed satisfied with the answer.
“Come on,” Brent said. “Let’s get comfortable inside. I’m starving.” As an afterthought, he added, “Who wants first watch?”
They had a good view of the road up to the visitor center and there were a few other vehicles parked in the lot, so theirs didn’t seem out of place. If someone did show up, they’d have a lot of warning to prepare for their arrival.
Kevin, the lone black man on the team, raised his hand. “Let me eat my candy in peace and I’ll stay out here all night.” He held up the stuff he’d lifted from the country store. Brent was tempted to chastise the guy for not taking healthy food, but he wasn’t his dad.
“Deal. I’ll relieve you myself in a couple of hours. It’s going to be dark soon. We’ll run tighter shifts overnight.” The sun’s rays beamed bright against one side of the volcano rim, though the shadows were long everywhere else. The sun was at the edge of the horizon.
Everyone went inside, save for the new guy. He’d gone off to the side of the entryway, away from everyone else, and was looking down at his hands. Brent tried to snoop, but before he could get too close, Long saw him. “Hey, I was just checking the time on my phone. I knew it was late. I’d usually be eating right now.”
Brent laughed. They were all part of the prison system. They all ate at precisely the same time every day. After confirming it on his watch, he smiled.
“You’re right. Let’s get inside and chow down.” Long passed him and went through the front door.
Something about the guy wasn’t sitting right with him. None of them were angels—he knew as much—but Terry Long was a legitimate mystery. He’d wished he’d spent some time investigating his files while they were all in the prison. It never crossed his mind. Now, a nagging instinct told him he couldn’t fully trust the man. On a mission such as his, lack of trust could get people killed.
