“You all right, dudette?” Meechum asked dryly from close by. Kyla glanced back, noticing how the captain had given her gun to the female Marine. She had it slung over her shoulder, while she kept the other one at the ready.
Kyla nodded, expecting her friend to hand over the weapon, but she only gestured for her to get moving. It was a behavioral oddity matched only by the surprise arrival of the captain to the shore party. Both were acting strange, it seemed, but it was probably because they were conducting the rescue of the President of the United States.
Kyla was the outsider.
Maybe it’s just me.
Montauk Lighthouse, NY
Ted chose to watch his target from a bushy clump of trees next to the parking lot. He and Emily crouched in the weeds under the leafy canopy, and the chiggers were murdering his ankles, but at least it was a shady place to watch the wide walkway back to the lighthouse. Shirts, pants, and little dresses were the only signs of people on the concrete path. Unless Kyla’s group climbed up the steep rocks next to the beach, there would be no way to get to the lighthouse without being seen.
“Well, this isn’t how I planned today,” Emily remarked as she slapped at a bug on her leg.
“Me either. When I finally co-piloted for the president, I assumed we’d have an actual plane.” He spoke with thick sarcasm to poke fun at her.
“I was often told it would all be glamor and champagne. Photo spreads. Fancy-pants dinners. How did we get our wires crossed so badly?” She’d responded in a thoughtful voice but ended with a chuckle. “But seriously, I’ve thought about this day—I mean being upgraded to the presidency, not sitting in the weeds—every night for the past three years. Is tomorrow the day I have to step into Tanager’s shoes? Can I do it? Am I ready?”
“Are you?” he asked in a more sympathetic voice.
She brushed hair out of her eyes, swatting a fly at the same time. “I’m not the first VP to face this crisis, you know. A number of veeps had to step in and take over the most important job in the world. Sometimes it was because of illness, or assassinations, or improprieties. During all of those crises, the rest of the world went on like normal. Looking back, it was almost silly how easy it was for those men. Here, today, facing the worst disaster of human history, I… Honestly, sometimes I feel like blending into the woods never to come out again.” She batted at another bug. “Not these woods, mind you. I’m talking about a forest with no bugs, lots of food, and maybe a comfortable bed.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. No such place existed, though spending time with her in the woods, frontier style, didn’t sound half-bad, all things considered. He’d taken courses in wilderness survival and would do all right on his own. At the same time, the humor was because they both knew retreat wasn’t their style.
“Emily, I know a little about how you feel. The joke earlier about me being a general makes me appreciate the challenges of taking over a rank I have no business taking. I think your nervousness comes because there are no rules to follow anymore. There isn’t an aide telling you how it goes, how to step into the dignity of the role. However, if my sister were around, she’d say we all just have to roll with it. Whatever life deals out, don’t hide under your covers and worry. Hit it head-on with your best shot.” He laughed a bit more. “Funny, because she was a hippy-dippy pacifist.”
“Oh, I’m not a quitter. I shouldn’t have said anything, but, what the hell, you’re the only friend I’ve got.” She smiled brightly at him, then slapped her wrist for another bug.
He glanced up to the lighthouse, then froze in place.
“Someone’s coming.”
Sacramento, California
Dwight found the motorcycle ride exhilarating. Being close to sober helped some of his normal memories percolate back to the surface. Riding his father’s hog back in high school was one of the few memories he didn’t mind having. The rest—from his time in the service in the wastes of the Middle East to his downward spiral kicked off when he got back—could be tossed onto the shoulder of the highway like so much trash.
Poppy soared high above. Her blue and green wings plied the skies like she was a soaring condor. He was happy to give her some room to fly, and he found himself seriously impressed by her ability to keep up with him. He drove the bike at over eighty miles-per-hour.
He followed Bernard not so much because he wanted to, but because the guy told him the bikes had trackers on them. As best he figured it, he had a good thing going with these strange people. Yeah, they had played a role the disappearances, but they seemed all right otherwise. They provided him food, water, and a motorbike to get around. It was more than anyone had ever given him on the streets.
After an hour of riding, Bernard waved him to an offramp at one of the many exits in the Central Valley of California. They played follow the leader as they went into a giant Valero gas station with a dozen lanes for pumps. Only one of them was operational, however, and a man in black overalls waved them in.
“Ahoy! Right this way.” The guy indicated Bernard needed to pull forward so Dwight could use the pump behind.
After kicking the stands to keep the bikes upright, they both hopped off. Bernard acted like he knew the guy and went right up to him and shook his hand. “We’re with the Folsom group. Fell a bit behind. How far back are we?”
The man eagerly shook hands in return. “Not far. They were through an hour or two ago. Hard to tell because it’s pretty boring guarding this place. I wish I was going out with you and doing the real work.” He glanced at Dwight, who smiled knowingly, though in his head he had no idea what the guy meant.
“Well,” the man continued as he walked to one of the pumps, “of course you don’t have to pay for anything. We’ve got you covered. Once you fill up, you’re free to go.”
Poppy landed on the roof of the nearby convenience shop, giving him an idea. “You got a restroom in there?”
The attendant nodded. “You bet. Nice and clean, like the boss requires.”
“Cleanliness in all things,” Bernard replied, along with the man. Things got silent for a moment, so Dwight looked over to the two men. They both stared at him like he’d crushed all their hopes and dreams.
“What?”
“Cleanliness in all things,” they repeated, like robots.
Poppy squawked, suggesting he repeat the message.
“Cleanliness in all things.” He shrugged. “Sorry, guys, it’s been a long couple of days.”
Bernard came to life as he spoke to the other man. “This guy had a flat tire earlier, and I think he got heatstroke while we fixed it, so he’s not in the right frame of mind.”
“And I’ve had the mad squirts since I ate at the buffet yesterday.” Before they said anything else, Dwight excused himself and beelined toward the restrooms. A tiny bell rang as he walked in the door, and for a few seconds, he returned to the normal life. The smells of the convenience store were a mix of fountain sodas, donuts, and cigarette smoke. He took a long drag, like the whole place was a cigarette.
He trotted to the back, like he really had to go to the bathroom, but he ducked down and shot over a couple of aisles to the liquor section. There, as if presented only for his enjoyment, was a full row of untouched beer, wine, as well as the good stuff.
“Oh-ho! Santa has come early this year!” He quietly mimicked the jolly elf’s laugh and grabbed for a particularly large bottle of rum on the bottom shelf. When he stood back up, Bernard was at the end of the aisle.
“Hey, man, I thought you were heading for the bathroom.” Bernard got quieter. “If they catch you with booze, you’ll be shot.”
Dwight was frozen in place, unable to process the simple words spoken by the other man. He’d shoplifted a time or two, and the worst that ever happened to him was he had to put it back. No one ever called the police on a rundown-looking man like him. But to be told he’d be shot for indulging in his one true hobby…
“I, uh, thought this would be good for cleaning the grease
off my bike. I, uh, noticed it was dirty after they did some maintenance yesterday.” It was a miracle he could come up with an answer that fit the situation, but he had used alcohol to clean engine parts before. Sometimes, his team got desperate over in the sandbox.
Dwight slowly put the bottle back, like it would blow up.
“Cleanliness in everything, Dwight. Remember that. We’re starting America from scratch. None of the alcohol, drugs, or chemicals they pumped into their foods. It’s all pure, from here on out.”
Where’s the fun in that?
His eyes closed to blink, but they wouldn’t open back up for about five seconds. The words hit him in the feels in a way he did not expect. It wasn’t from a respect for clean living or this new way promoted by his strange, new friend. It wasn’t because he’d been told he might be shot if he did it again. It was because he couldn’t imagine a world anything like what the man had suggested.
Suddenly, the cool uniform seemed too tight.
CHAPTER 7
Montauk Lighthouse, NY
Ted pulled down the branches of a small bush to get a clearer view of the figure standing by the lighthouse. He had the small pair of binos he’d been carrying in his pack, which was the perfect amount of magnification for the job. The woman was dressed in Marine fatigues but didn’t carry a weapon, which was unnatural Marine behavior. The only logical explanation was that it was Kyla, still dressed as she was the day before. “It’s my niece. She made it.”
“We saw more of them,” Emily remarked as she too looked through the leaves. “So, where are they?”
Kyla walked onto the walkway close to the lighthouse, but based on her direction, she’d come up through the woods about fifty yards to their right. He suddenly imagined a whole Army battalion could come charging at him from the greenery, and he wanted to move. However, no matter who was in there waiting for him to meet Kyla, he wasn’t going to leave her.
His heart raced as he thought through all the combinations of responses he could take, but it all came down to what he could do on his own. Under no circumstances could he endanger the vice president. “I’ve got to step away for a minute. Don’t go anywhere.”
“Now, Ted, you brought me here. Where the heck am I going to go?” She chuckled quietly. “I’m kidding. I’ll stay put.”
He crouched low as he backed away from the front edge of the trees, but he stopped for a second to observe his friend. She absently flicked a bug from her knee, then seemed to notice his pause. “What?”
It seemed like good-bye for some reason, but he didn’t want to dwell on the point. “If you get into trouble, fire the rifle up in the air.”
“Or put two in the chest, one in the head,” she replied dryly.
His look was probably one of bafflement.
“I watch a lot of cop shows,” she explained.
“Right. Do that.” He smiled, then trotted into the thick underbrush of the summer foliage. Luckily, he wore long pants to keep the poison ivy at bay, though the mosquitos and chiggers had already chewed through his socks.
The lighthouse walkway came in a straight line down to the parking area, but the lot was mostly in the woods, which gave him plenty of concealment as he skirted around it. His intention was to scout the woods on Kyla’s side of the walkway to see if it was indeed full of soldiers. However, he’d only gone about a quarter of the way when he realized exhaustion had gotten the better of him.
They’ll post lookouts.
If he went over there, he’d be spotted. As he thought about it, he figured there might already be someone watching him. The lot was about a hundred yards long, and nearly as wide, with empty lanes that provided long lines of sight.
He had to change tactics. His first assumption was the people with Kyla were friends, or, at a minimum, weren’t going to shoot him on sight. He then thought perhaps he was being overly dramatic about the whole thing. Kyla had given him the coordinates and wanted to meet him. She’d been on a US Navy aircraft carrier. They wouldn’t send her out alone. Her escorts were there for her benefit, which should have made him happy. His final estimation was they would assume he’d come in on foot.
Ted searched the parking area for what he wanted. Of the approximately thirty cars in the lot, only one had what he needed. It was a white minivan with its sliding side door all the way open. Clothes were spread out around it, suggesting the owners had been in the process of loading or unloading at the time America disappeared.
It was in the middle of the lot, but he was able to use other cars to hide his approach to it. The minutes kept ticking away, leading him to worry if Emily was going to come looking for him. He’d told her to stay put, but that didn’t mean she’d do it forever.
He scrambled on the pavement until he crouched next to the van. A pair of man’s jeans were nearby, so he searched the pockets for some keys. When he didn’t find any, he lifted the blouse of a woman who’d stood immediately outside the van door. The key fob was with her. Ted also noticed the onesie of a baby a bit under the van, as well as an empty car seat in the rear. He tried not to put too much thought into what the young family had been doing in those final moments.
Once he had the keys, he climbed in through the back and hit the button to auto-slide the door to close it. He let out the big breath he’d been holding while he studied the far edge of the lot. There had to be other men out there, but he didn’t see them in his brief search.
Ted moved at sloth-speed into the driver’s seat. He figured if he moved faster, he’d be obvious out to a lookout. If he moved slow and didn’t draw attention, he might be able to start the van unhindered.
As soon as he was in the seat, he held his finger over the start button.
“Well, this might be stupid, but it will definitely get me noticed,” he whispered.
Of all the options he could have chosen, he assumed stealing a car was the least risky to him. If Kyla’s backup wanted to shoot him, he wasn’t going to make it easy by walking up the path. If he did get shot at, Emily and Kyla would know to run. They could get away, he hoped.
After about thirty seconds of what-if scenarios running through his mind, he realized he was delaying the inevitable. If he was going to draw fire, he had to start the van.
He pushed the start button, then, strangely, looked at the horn.
Chicago, IL
“What’s wrong?” Tabby fretted. She looked past Audrey to Peter down in the hole. He’d yelled, and she assumed the threat was bad, like a robot, or maybe a snake.
Peter gazed up at her with the look of a boy who’d done something stupid. He straddled one of the ladder bars and his face was scrunched in pain. “My foot slid off the ladder and I, uh, shattered my marbles.”
It looked like a painful situation, and she tried to be supportive and encouraging as he untangled himself and climbed the ladder. His wet shoes seemed to want to go anywhere but the rungs, and he almost slid off a couple more times. She helped him out of the drainpipe and watched him slither into the grass before she chuckled. “Are you going to be all right?”
“I need a minute to collect my thoughts,” he croaked.
“We can’t stay,” she replied quickly. “The people sending those drones around probably know we were in the sewers. We have to at least get away from this park in case they check this lid.” She looked at Peter, then Audrey, then at the lid. “Audrey, will you help me slide this back over?”
The two of them were able to move it back with no problems. If the drones did come, they would see a closed lid. That might throw them off the scent, if the robots had the ability to track by smell. She wondered about the possibility as she and Audrey helped Peter to his feet. The teen girl wore a pleasant perfume, but she’d loaded up on it back at her house. After all their sweating and walking through water, it was only now getting to be tolerable.
“Do either of you know anything about computers? Is there a way to get an advantage over those robots? Can we block their signal or something?” She figured Pe
ter was a know-it-all guy who might be plugged into technology.
They’d gone about twenty feet before Peter shook them off. “I can make it. And, to answer your question, I know about computers and tablets and stuff, but I have no idea what makes those things tick. I’ve never seen anything close. Like if they are remote control or working on their own. That would be important to know.”
“Which one is more dangerous?” Tabby asked as she picked up one of the bikes she intended to borrow.
“I don’t know for sure. A robot on its own might see things no human would notice. However, I might be more afraid of the human eyes behind the robot because a person’s brain is a lot smarter than any software code. But if you’re going to ask me which one these are, I have no idea how to tell.”
There were more than a dozen bikes on the ground, as if children had been playing in the park when the robot people zapped America. It made her sad to steal the bicycles from the fallen clothing, but it had to be done. She was sure the kids would understand.
Before they got started, a dog came out of the small block building that served as the restrooms for the park. It was a big, burly brown dog, and it didn’t appear anywhere as nice as Sister Rose’s. It had a big, ugly black collar with oversized lugs sticking from it, as if the owner wanted everyone to know how mean the dog could be.
“Good pup,” she cooed. Then, to her friends, she added, “Let’s get out of here.”
She didn’t look back as she pedaled away. Tabby led the teens down the bike path, along the edge of the park, and then into what would have been a busy urban street. Cars were everywhere on one side, so she went to the other where it was mostly clear. Only a few of the out-of-control cars had veered into the wrong lanes, probably because traffic had been stopped in that part of Chicago.
Peter stood while he pedaled—a position Tabby only figured out after remembering his painful climb up the ladder. “Where are we going to go?” he asked.
Minus America (Book 3): Rebel Cause Page 5