“Your solar-powered truck doesn’t have the horsepower to get out of the mud, does it?” Tabby spoke to the speaker inside the back, assuming there was a microphone there, too. It was the only explanation that made any sense. The computer or remote-controller of the vehicle had veered too close to the edge of the shoulder. Now, it was mired in mud and didn’t have the necessary torque to get unstuck.
She realized what a golden opportunity had been handed to her. Before she listened to the reply, she pulled the two teens about twenty feet behind the machine. “We can get out of here.” Tabby pointed to a line of trees not more than fifty feet from the edge of the road. The snow-capped mountains were still tens of miles away, she guessed, but there were plenty of trees and hills. They could easily get away from the silly little truck.
“No,” Audrey shot back.
“What? She has a pretty good idea. Let’s run.” Peter bounced back and forth, as if warming up.
“No,” the girl repeated.
Tabby looked between Audrey and the van. The little milk wagon had no guns. It didn’t even appear to have a camera on it. They had a chance to run, despite not knowing where they were.
“We’ve got this,” Tabby said in her most confident voice. “We have to escape.”
Audrey took a few quick steps back toward the truck, shaking her head quickly. “I can’t. I won’t. I thought it was all over when we came up out of the flooded mine. Then I thought it was all over when we went to my house. Then… Well, you get the point. I need an injection, too, or I’m going to pass out. You two go on. I’m done.”
Tabby shared a concerned look with Peter, but she already knew what he would do. For her part, she wasn’t going to run away without the two kids she was determined to protect. If they wouldn’t leave, neither would she.
“You chose wisely,” the truck voice said as they neared the speaker. The man took pains to emphasize the word wisely.
“My friend needs medical attention,” she said sternly, hoping that would get some response.
The speaker didn’t respond.
“Hello?” Tabby exclaimed, anger rising.
No response.
She glanced at Audrey, afraid she was in real trouble but not sure what to do for her. In the end, she figured the faster she did as asked, the faster she could get the girl some aid. “Just tell us when to push,” she said dejectedly.
“Now would be good,” the man replied.
As the three of them got into the wet mud alongside the wayward milk truck, a sleek-looking aircraft came in low from over a nearby hill. Its propeller whined as it flew directly overhead, not higher than a hundred feet. Tabby got a good look at the two missiles hanging from the long, thin wings.
I guess we did choose the right path. This time.
She pushed until the driverless vehicle came out of the mud, but she never stopped looking for the next chance for all of them to escape. Wherever the truck was taking them, it wouldn’t be good. They didn’t even care about a sick passenger…
CHAPTER 23
Minot, ND
“Three!”
As soon as Uncle Ted said it, she squeezed the trigger. The M4 carbine jumped in her arms as the crack-bang concussion forced her back. The glass window shattered at the same time, and she closed her eyes momentarily to avoid the tiny shards as they came down.
The others had fired their first shots, but the broken glass interrupted their planned attack for a precious couple of seconds. Uncle Ted got his second shot off at about the same time as Meechum.
Kyla brought her rifle sights back up and found that her original target had fallen to the ground, so she went for the next guy in the line, as instructed. With the glass out of the way, she squeezed the trigger three or four times before she had to adjust her aim.
That man fell aside, too.
A couple of the enemy fell to the ground on purpose, and one of them managed to kick on his flamethrower. A jet of flammable gas launched toward the store.
“Shoot him!” Uncle Ted yelled.
She tried to get a shot off, but her heart pumped the blood directly behind her eyes. It made her hyper-aware of how the thick mist seemed to be headed directly toward her. If he clicked the detonate button…
Kyla dove sideways, toward the others, firing wildly as she dodged the spray.
Ohmygod!
A wall of fire erupted where she’d been standing, sounding like a roaring freight train had come in through the window. At almost the same instant, an explosion happened in the parking lot, which blew out all the remaining glass along the whole front of the store. As she landed on the dirty floor, she was doused with the contents of hundreds of bottles of warm soda.
The fire shot across the ceiling for one brief moment, then seemed to retreat like the tide. Kyla fought to find some air to breathe as she slid on the floor with the others. Her lack of success sent a surge of panic throughout her body, but the air soon came back.
“Holy…shit,” Uncle Ted said hoarsely between heavy breaths. “Meechum hit the fuel tank for the flamer. That was a nice shot.”
The Marine sucked in air like everyone else. “We all did good.”
Her uncle looked over to her. “You okay? He was aiming for you, I think.”
She laughed at being alive. “Yeah, he picked the wrong girl, for sure.” It took some effort since the floor was slippery with sugary beverages, but when she made it upright, the fire outside had almost spent itself, since there wasn’t much to burn. The motorcycles were knocked over on the gravel lot. A few of them closest to the blast had been ripped apart, but their tanks didn’t explode. The one that had been destroyed still had a few flames clinging to the ruptured metal.
The sudden violence had startled her, but it didn’t make her frightened as it might have done in the past. Her time on the John F. Kennedy had hardened her to it, as did the fight out of New York City. She cut directly to what mattered. “Hey, do you think someone else saw what happened?”
Emily brushed broken glass off her summer dress and out of her hair. “If they weren’t watching us a mile off their runway, I doubt they had eyes on this out-of-the-way place ten miles away. However, we should go out there and move the debris when it cools enough. Anyone driving by will be curious why seven dead men are lying in the gravel.”
They found a few fire extinguishers and got to work putting out the lingering fires on the lot and around the bottles of soda. Working together, they used a tow rope to drag most of the bikes behind the store. Of the seven, two were unrecognizable. A further two were heavily burned and damaged by the blast. However, there were three still good enough to drive. When Kyla saw Uncle Ted and Meechum each drive a bike and park them next to the store, she saw how they could get into the base.
“Hey, guys. I have an idea.”
Minot Air Force Base, ND
Ted was not thrilled with Kyla’s idea. It involved high risks, though it also offered high rewards. If they could get inside without using their guns, and without risking their lives in another firefight, it was worth trying. However, he’d been planning to leave Kyla behind, to keep her away from the base altogether. She kept making it harder to ditch her.
“Emily, can’t we take a little more time to think about this?” he asked.
“No, the clock has been ticking since the nuclear suitcase was stolen. I want to get inside as soon as we can do it safely. This idea might be the best we ever think up. As you said last night, the air base hardly appears to be aware there’s a war going on. We’ll be inside before they know what’s up.”
He sighed, not sure if he had a better answer. Unless they dug a tunnel, there wasn’t a realistic way of sneaking in. Time was a factor, too. Kyla’s way was the fastest, for sure. Still, he pulled her aside while Kyla and Meechum got ready. “Do we have to take her?”
Emily knew who he meant. “She said she’s a programmer, Ted. She could be useful. There’s no way to know what’s inside. I’m only here for the biometrics. The Mari
ne is here for security. You’re the pretty face to get us inside.” Her smile was cagey.
Ted rolled his eyes. “How did I ever get stuck with three women? Y’all are crazy, you know that, right?” He poked fun at her to hide his misgivings about having Kyla be a part of the attack. It was going to better their odds, for sure, but it didn’t make it right.
“It’ll be fine,” she said seriously while brushing something off the chest of his borrowed black uniform. She’d smudged her face with soot and pinned up her hair in a style he’d never seen before. It was part of her disguise, she’d told him. “It’s a good plan: we dress like them, ride their motorcycles, then slip into the base.”
The worst part had been tearing the uniforms off the dead men. They needed to dress like the bikers if they wanted the ruse to work, but he was uncomfortable wearing anything with bullet holes in it. If the others had similar misgivings, they didn’t share them. Everyone got on the bikes wearing the black pants and heavy long-sleeve shirts of the invaders.
“I’ll miss your beach clothes,” Ted said to Emily in a friendly voice. “Especially that big bag. It would have been a nice place to store all our ammo.”
“You might see it again,” she said mysteriously.
Since the dead men didn’t ride with rifles or packs, Ted made the call to hide theirs in the trunk of the getaway car parked behind the store. They’d keep their pistols, and some of them carried more than one. However, the long guns might give them away when they went into the base. It was another of his calculated risks.
Another gamble was identification. They could have all lifted ID badges off the dead men, but it would do the women no good, since none of the dead were female. However, Ted took one from a man who somewhat resembled him, figuring it would give him a chance if someone asked for it.
“I’m Klaus Mitter, from…” He assumed it would have city and state, like every ID badge he’d ever had, but it didn’t. “It says I’m from Black Site Mike 10.”
“That sounds mysterious,” Kyla said dramatically.
“What do you make of it?” Emily asked, more seriously.
He had no idea, but he guessed anyway. “I think they’re trying to hide where they’re really from. If this said Bob Smith, Albion, Indiana, we’d know how to track him down.”
“Well, Klaus, let’s go.” Emily laughed.
They ran into one last problem before they pulled out of the parking lot. Emily was famous for her ability to operate machinery, but she reluctantly admitted she couldn’t drive a motorcycle. He smiled, happy in his own way he’d found another weakness in the woman, but it meant they had to ride in pairs.
Emily rode behind him. Kyla had to ride behind Meechum, since his niece couldn’t drive one either. The original owners didn’t have helmets, so they traveled without them.
He almost enjoyed the highway speeds as they cruised across the flat plains of the North Dakota highway, but he had to restore his game face as they approached the front gate of the base. A pair of black-clad soldiers stood in front of the heavy mesh gate, rifles at the ready. The first one held up his hand, signaling they needed to stop.
Emily spoke in his ear. “This is nothing like last night. They look like they’re waiting for us.”
He allowed himself a peek over to the runway on his left. The fighter jets were all gone, as were most of the giant transport planes. It was hard to hear anything with the engine sounds of the bikes, but he looked up on a hunch; sure enough, two jets were high above, perhaps looping the air base as an air patrol.
Ted got close, but he didn’t turn off the engine, hoping they would wave him through. However, they motioned for him to shut it off. Emily squeezed him as if they were going to be discovered.
The weird giraffe-things remained along the edges of the runway, but there seemed to be more of them. A couple held position near the front gate, giving him a good look at their construction. Their bodies were about the size of a subcompact car, though it was rounded on bottom and flatter on top. Their long metal legs emerged from joints near each corner, giving the bodies the appearance of animals. The lone neck tube set in the front furthered the illusion of a giraffe. The thin metallic heads were on swivels, and he took a guess they were watching him with mechanical eyes.
The guard came up to him and spoke broken English with an accent he couldn’t identify. “You just left. Why back so soon?” Maybe eastern European, or one of the nations in the Middle East.
Ted had his story teed up and ready to go. “We had a malfunction. One of the tanks ruptured and blew up right as we were ripping a new one inside an Arby’s restaurant. Almost lost my whole crew.” He motioned to the women behind him, hoping they wouldn’t get too much scrutiny. If the bad guys didn’t use women for their fire duties, they’d have to get out in a hurry.
The man said, “You look like hell. You are injured?”
He didn’t take it personally. Their faces were blackened by the initial blast in the store. Kyla even found some strands of her hair had been burned. His niece also wore a strip of black cloth around her neck from her injury. It was an easy sell to appear like they’d suffered a fiery malfunction. Ted nodded grimly and took a chance by glaring at the man square in the eyes. “I lost three men. How do you think I feel?”
Tension ran along the razor’s edge as he held the man’s gaze, but the guard relented before he did. “Sorry,” the guy replied. “We’re under strict lockdown. The American leftovers destroyed our forward air base in Amarillo, and command is worried this one might get the hit, too. But you’ve suffered enough. I’ll let you through.”
Ted found a suitable reply steeped with regret, but filled with bravery, as he imagined how these men were feeling. “Thanks. When we get back out there, we’re going to pay those rebels back ten-fold.”
Good job, rebels, whomever you are.
“We’re the rebels,” the guard said emphatically before speaking more cordially. “Good luck on finding the Americans, though. I heard there’s not more than twenty on this side of the Mississippi. Not much to worry about, right?” The guard stepped back and made like he was going to the guard shack to open the gate, but he stopped at the door. “Hey, wait!”
Ted’s stomach did a freefall. He had a vision of how that other attack far away had made his life unexpectedly more difficult. He’d saluted the people who may now get him killed. “Yeah?”
The guard reached into his shack and pulled out a clipboard. “I need write in my log. Just tell me your name.”
He almost melted with relief. “Klaus Mitter.”
“Got it.” The man waved to his buddy to open the gate. “Go on through. Hope your day gets better.”
Oh, it will.
They were in.
Folsom, CA
“Welcome to the Folsom Lake!” a man in a white jumpsuit shouted into his microphone. “Find your seats and we’ll get started momentarily.” The eighteen-wheeler flatbed carried a bank of speakers that might have been stolen from a rock concert.
Thousands of bikers had parked along the abandoned four-lane highway, which ran along the edge of the huge lake. Most of them walked up a nearby grass-covered hill, which provided views of the lake and hydroelectric dam to the north and the city of Folsom to the south. None of the people around him knew what to expect, but most thought it would be a flyby over the water of some of the captured military equipment, so most faced that way.
“You feeling better after last night?” Bernard asked him once they’d made it to the hilltop and found a place to sit.
Dwight wasn’t certain what took place the night before. He recognized he’d had one of his “episodes,” but his lack of ability to remember anything he’d said disturbed him to the bone. His only hope was to pretend. “I feel much better, thanks. My nightmares have been getting worse, I think. Ever since I was in that shipping container.” The deflection was a tactic he’d learned on the streets. When the police came over to ask questions, whether he was guilty or not, he acted li
ke the voices were inside his head.
“You came over in one of them boxes? No wonder you’ve got issues.” Bernard laughed, and Dwight found himself liking the guy, despite his role in burning everything.
Poppy soared above the crowd, the stiff breeze letting her sail without flapping her wings. She tried to inject herself into the conversation, but he was glad she was out of earshot. He didn’t need to hear her to know she was going to mess things up for him.
The announcer coughed to get everyone’s attention, then carried on. “We’re getting started. First, I’d like to thank David for the opportunity of a lifetime. I’ve seen such wonderful things happening the last few days. It’s been more powerful than all that I’ve seen in my life up until this point. I hope you all feel the same.”
The crowd cheered. When Bernard clapped, Dwight mimicked him.
“So, it will only be a few more moments. I’ve just got word from on high.”
Dwight looked up, not sure what to make of the man’s statement. If planes were coming, maybe the show would begin with a parachute jump. There were no aircraft in the sky, but he did see Poppy still enjoying herself in the mid-morning sunshine.
A new voice spoke on the loudspeakers. It was the one he’d heard two days earlier, in the San Francisco warehouse. “Greetings, fellow humans. I’m speaking to you remotely from my headquarters in my NORAD bunker. Our operations are going completely to plan, and for that, I thank you. Eliminating the people of this land was step one of our mission to reclaim the world. Step two is what you men and women are doing out there on the roads with your flame kits. But even from so far away, I can provide a little extra help for your efforts. For I am David, and I see everything you need.”
Dwight almost chuffed out loud at how full of shit the man sounded, but he remembered he was supposed to be undercover. The crowd was applauding, as was he, when he noticed a thin black shape drop out of the clouds. From his position and distance, it appeared to be about the size of a telephone pole. It hurtled down for several seconds—long enough for many of the others to notice.
Minus America (Book 3): Rebel Cause Page 18