California

by Jamie Lee Grey

  Checking her mirror, it was obvious nobody was going to make room for her.

  She’d have to make her own space.

  Curling her fingers around the steering wheel, she inched forward and to the left. Beside her, a black van clung to its position in the middle of the lane. Behind it, a semi glued itself to the van’s bumper.

  It was an impossible maneuver.

  She gritted her teeth and pressed closer to the van.

  Suddenly, the vehicle ahead of the van surged forward, and the van did, as well. Katie turned the truck into the space it was vacating.

  But the semi driver either didn’t see what was happening, or didn’t care.

  Katie felt it before she heard it.

  A sickening crunch shook the rear of her truck.

  Her mouth fell open.

  “Nooo!”

  Zach was signaling to get into the lane ahead of her. Clearly, he hadn’t noticed that she’d just been rear-ended. She grabbed the walkie talkie.

  “Zach! Zach!” She squawked.

  A fumbling noise preceded his voice on the little radio. “What?”

  “That guy just ran into me!” She applied her brakes.

  “Who?”

  “The truck! Behind me!”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, but I gotta pull over.”

  “No! Stay in your lane!”

  “What? No, I can’t. I need to get his insurance information and stuff. We gotta call the cops….”

  “Katie.” Zach’s voice was firm. “Listen to me.”

  A space opened in front of her as she came almost to a stop in her lane. Zach nosed the motorhome into it.

  “What are you doing? We have to pull off!”

  “Is the pickup drivable?”

  Katie looked in her rearview mirror. Of course, that revealed nothing. She’d have to get out to see the damage.

  “I guess so. I can’t tell how bad it is.”

  “Stay in your lane,” Zach ordered. “I’ll explain in a second.”

  He pulled further into her lane ahead of her.

  The semi behind her blasted his air horn, nearly deafening Katie. His grill filled her mirror. If he wasn’t literally on her bumper, he was within inches of it.

  Man, if she weren’t a Christian, she’d give him a piece of her mind. And a wild wave of her middle finger, too!

  Zach straightened into the lane in front of her, and she let off her brakes, inching up behind him as his voice came over the walkie talkie.

  “Sorry, Babe. We just don’t dare stop. I honestly don’t think we’d be able to get into the flow of traffic again.”

  “But what am I supposed to do? We’re leaving the scene of an accident!”

  “In these circumstances, a jury will never convict you. Is the pickup handling okay?”

  “Yeah. I guess.”

  “And you’re not hurt?”

  “No. I mean, he was going like five miles an hour.”

  “Good. Just keep going. Let me know if you have any more problems back there.”

  “Okay.” She tried not to glance in her mirror, where the semi was still plastered to her pickup. When she did look, all she saw was his ominous grill.

  ***

  Alana shifted forward in her chair as Mexican President Manuel Gonzalez’s voice came over the line. Basilia advised him he was on speaker with a portion of her cabinet and other advisers.

  “I’ve been told you’ve closed the border,” she said. “Is that true?”

  “We have closed certain ports of entry, yes. We have received credible threats at those ports, and in order to maintain our national security, these crossings are closed until we can properly investigate.”

  “As you are well aware, Mr. President, the United States has actually suffered a terrorist attack.” Basilia softened her voice. “We need the border opened so our residents – many of them your citizens – can escape the fires.”

  “If we open our border crossings, we will be attacked also!” President Gonzalez sounded fully convinced. “We don’t have the technology or manpower to fully scrutinize every vehicle that is trying to cross. There are hordes! Who knows which ones carry the bombs?”

  Basilia’s cheeks darkened.

  “President Gonzales.” She glared at the telephone. “We will provide you with every asset available for that purpose. But we need those ports of entry open. Immediately.”

  “Tell your people to utilize the ports that are open now. Ninety percent of the crossings with your country are open.”

  “Don’t be obtuse! I don’t care about the other ninety percent. We need the California ports open, all of them, right away! Otherwise, our people – and yours – might be incinerated!”

  “And when the bombs go off, what then? I will be blamed for this. Probably assassinated!”

  “If you fail to open those crossings within the next hour….” Basilia paused.

  Alana’s heart raced. What was the president going to threaten? Sanctions? War?

  Her eyes spun toward the secretary of defense. His jaw was taut, eyes fixed on Basilia.

  “Look. What do you need from us to get that border open?”

  Alana hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. She gulped a lungful of air. Crisis averted?

  The Mexican president took his time responding. No doubt coming up with a list of demands. Finally, he spoke quietly.

  “Let me talk to my advisors. I’ll get back to you.”

  “There’s no time, Manuel!” Basilia protested. “We absolutely need those crossings open. Right now.”

  “Fifteen minutes,” President Gonzalez said. “I will call you back.”

  The line went dead.

  “What? No!” Basilia tapped the phone, then turned to Alana. “Did he just hang up on me?!”

  Chapter 12

  Nadir and his father finished their prayers, but before they left the room on the third floor, the older man placed his hand on Nadir’s arm.

  “Wait, my son.”

  Nadir calmed his breathing as he turned to his father.

  “What is it?”

  “I told you I needed you by my side today.” Eyes the color of dark coffee pierced Nadir’s soul.

  “Yes, Father.”

  “But I know what you have done.”

  Nadir gulped. Blood throbbed in his throat and heated his face.

  He knew? How? Had Nadir made some error? Failed to cover his tracks in some way he didn’t realize?

  Perhaps Father had overheard one of his phone conversations. He’d been so careful – but maybe not careful enough.

  “Look at me, Nadir!”

  Against his will, his eyes turned of their own accord to his father’s face. His jaw was set, his eyes narrowed.

  This was it. The moment he’d been dreading all day. For weeks, actually. Months.

  He’d been unable to guess how Father would respond – initial anger, certainly – but then what? Could he understand how necessary this was to accomplish Allah’s will?

  “Father –”

  “Silence!” His fingers clamped around Nadir’s arm and dug into his flesh. He leaned in, and his spittle struck Nadir’s face. “How dare you defy me!”

  It was not going to go well.

  But now it didn’t matter. His father could have him arrested – even kill him – and it wouldn’t change a thing. The fires were lit. The jihad, underway.

  It could not be stopped.

  Nadir stood straight and jerked his arm from his father’s grasp.

  “I –”

  “I know you booked a new flight!” His father moved to block the doorway. “Do not deny it!”

  Nadir blinked.

  That’s what this was about? His travel plans? Not the fires he’d so strategically masterminded on this hot, blustery day?

  In his relief, he nearly laughed out loud.

  No doubt his mirth was evident on his face, because a moment later, it stung and he reeled from his father’s
blow.

  Nadir staggered back a step, his hand moving to his cheek. His lip felt wet.

  It wasn’t the first time his father had stuck him, but it was the first time he’d done it with a closed fist.

  Nadir took another step back, curling his own fists, and fixated on his father, who glared at him from the doorway.

  “Admit it, Nadir!” He glowered.

  Sure, if that’s all it was, he’d admit it. No problem!

  “I booked another flight! So what?” He stared his father down. “I’ve done everything I can. The weather is going to happen. The wind is going to blow. My being here won’t change a thing!”

  His father rubbed the hand he’d struck Nadir with, and then brushed a piece of lint of his jacket. Finally, those dark eyes turned on Nadir.

  “You won’t be able to go anywhere anyhow.”

  “Why is that, Father? You think I’m a child? You think you can take away my keys?”

  A long moment passed while the older man stared at the younger one.

  “Unfortunately, no. Though you often act like a child, raised as an American millennial –” He lifted his gaze toward the eastern window – “Allah forgive me! You are a child adult, like most of your generation. Selfish! Demanding! Entitled.”

  Nadir exhaled strongly through his nostrils as he bristled. Such nonsense! He was a true man. A fighter. A jihadi!

  And still, his question remained unanswered.

  He squared his shoulders and stared into his father’s eyes.

  “What then? You cannot restrain me against my will. If I wish to fly to Seattle, I will fly.”

  His father shook his heavy head.

  “Not today, you won’t.”

  ***

  Katie’s heart pounded in her ears as she saw the wretched semi driver inching toward her bumper. Was he going to hit her again?

  What was the matter with that guy?! Was he drunk? On drugs?

  Or just in a rage?

  Oh, Jesus, please protect me from that crazy truck driver!

  She swallowed hard and turned her eyes toward the RV in front of her. At least Timothy was safe, riding up there with Duke and Zach. And if that trucker did anything now, Zach would rescue her.

  Surely he thought it was an accident when she’d been hit. Otherwise, there would have been a big problem. She knew it wasn’t accidental, though, and she’d tell Zach eventually. When they were off this freeway and far, far from that crazed driver in her rearview mirror.

  She focused on the motorhome carrying her family, and tried to think of something else. The words to an old hymn came to her.

  When peace, like a river, attendeth my way

  When sorrows, like sea billows, roll

  Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say

  It is well, it is well with my soul.

  She found herself singing the chorus. “It is well, with my soul, it is well, it is well, with my soul!”

  Then she sang the first verse aloud, and by the time she reached the chorus, she was belting it out. Suddenly, the grill in her rear view mirror didn’t bother her as much. And then, inexplicably, it began backing off.

  Maybe that guy’s demons didn’t like hearing her praise the Lord.

  She smiled. That being the case, she’d just keep it up!

  As traffic crawled forward, she continued singing praise and worship songs. Half an hour later, she was getting hoarse.

  It took forever, but finally they reached Roseville. Hopefully, some of this traffic would exit the Interstate and head north on Highway 65. Because how many of these people were actually going to Nevada, anyway?

  Before the exit, a few vehicles began making their way into the right lane. Including the nasty driver who’d rear-ended her.

  She picked up the walkie talkie.

  “Katie for Zach.”

  “Go ahead,’ Zach responded.

  “The truck that rear-ended me might be taking the Highway 65 exit. Should we get off, too, so we can exchange information?”

  There was a long pause before Zach answered. “Tough call. I really don’t want to get off the freeway. Can you get his license number?”

  She craned her neck. Now that the truck wasn’t plastered to her bumper, she might have a chance to see his license plate.

  “Not yet, but I’ll try.”

  “Good. Be careful.”

  “Yep.” Katie set the radio on the passenger seat. The semi was in the lane beside her now, but it was riding the bumper of the van ahead of it. There was no way she could see his license plate.

  Looking up, the motorhome loomed larger in her path. She braked to avoid hitting it.

  Yeah, that’d be great – get rear-ended AND hit our RV, all on the same afternoon!

  She vowed to keep her eyes on the road.

  The semi began easing into the exit lane. Despite herself, Katie tried again to see his license plate.

  No dice. She frowned. Guess we’ll have to let that one go. Hopefully the insurance will cover our damages as a hit and run.

  Her lane came to a complete stop. So did the left lane. She radioed Zach.

  “What’s happening up there? I can’t see anything.”

  “Bunch of traffic trying to come up the on-ramp and merge into freeway traffic.”

  “Lovely.”

  Her gaze shifted to her gas tank. Those few gallons weren’t going to take them very far.

  “Kate.” Zach’s tone chilled her. “We’ve got another problem.”

  “What?”

  “I think I see smoke.”

  “Well, yeah, there were hundreds of fires set west of here.”

  “No. I mean up ahead. To the east!”

  ***

  Alana glanced at her watch. The president of Mexico had said he’d call back in fifteen minutes, but twenty had gone by. Much of that time had been taken up with Basilia arguing with her cabinet and Secret Service. They were still arguing when the phone rang.

  Alana answered it. The room fell silent as she announced the caller.

  “It’s President Gonzalez. I’m putting the call on speaker.”

  She pressed the speakerphone button and stepped back as Basilia moved closer to the phone.

  “Mr. President, please tell me you’ve got those border crossings open.”

  “At immense risk to my country and myself, we are beginning to open them now.”

  A collective sigh of relief rose from the assembled staff.

  “My country is deeply gratefully, Manuel. Thank you,” Basilia said. “In order to facilitate evacuations, we will need to reverse the flow of traffic coming north across the border, and turn those lanes into southbound lanes, as well.”

  “Impossible!” The Mexican president protested. “We can’t process those lanes. We do not have the facilities or the staff on those lanes!”

  “It’s critical, Mr. President.” She looked at her Homeland Security chief as she spoke. “We will process those lanes on your behalf.”

  The Homeland Security chief’s eyes grew wide at that suggestion, coupled with a firm frown.

  “It’s just impossible,” President Gonzales reiterated. “Truly. We will have no record of those travelers in our system. And now be honest – your agents will let many through too quickly, without proper examination.”

  “They won’t, Mr. President. Our border agents will be as thorough as they always are vetting travelers into the United States.”

  At this, the Mexican president burst into laughter. Basilia’s jaw clenched. Her cheeks darkened.

  “I am sorry,” President Gonzales continued chuckling. Seemed he couldn’t help himself.

  “Look, we’re wasting time. Our people are dying.” Basilia leaned over the phone, her palms pressed to the table. “What is it going to take to make this happen?”

  “Five billion in new aide for my country. For security, of course.” The Mexican paused. “And five hundred million for my family. In a Swiss account.”

  Alana sucked in her bre
ath. He was demanding a bribe? Now?

  Five hundred million dollars?!

  Her gaze flitted around the table. Only three people looked as surprised as she felt. Alana’s chief of staff, the secretary of defense, and the president herself.

  But Basilia only blinked once.

  “Done.”

  Could she do that? Alana again surveyed the expressions around her. A shrug here, a look of resignation there, a look of disdain… but no vocal objections.

  Was this how things always got done? Or was this a new set of rules and realities under Basilia’s leadership?

  Alana struggled to rein in the shock that might appear on her face.

  “Very well,” President Gonzalez said. “As soon as I receive confirmation on the personal funds, I will allow the additional lanes to be opened. You may begin taking preliminary steps to reverse traffic on your side, but no vehicles or pedestrians will be allowed through those lanes until the funds are in the Swiss account. Have one of your people contact me to set this up.”

  “I’ll do that,” Basilia agreed. “Good night, President Gonzalez.”

  As she ended the call, she turned to her chief of staff. “Make it happen.”

  Chapter 13

  Nadir remained in the prayer room after his father left. He’d never explained why Nadir wouldn’t be able to fly out today.

  Had he been put on the terrorist no-fly list?

  That would be a problem.

  A real, difficult-to-solve problem. It wasn’t like his father could easily fix that. In fact, maybe it was his father who had him put on the list.

  And it wasn’t like he could petition to be removed from it, either. Even if there was time, which there wasn’t.

  He was stuck.

  In California.

  The one place he couldn’t afford to be stuck.

  He sank to his knees on his prayer rug. Now what?

  His mind went blank.

  There were no answers. Just silence.

  His eyes turned to the window. The blue sky had changed color. It looked hazy now, smoggy.

  Smokey.

  If he truly couldn’t fly out, he might be trapped here. With millions of other people. And a thousand fires bearing down on them.