by Roger Hayden
Bryant ignored him and raised the pistol out of the window again. This time, he had a clear shot to the back of Paul's head. He squeezed one eye shut and held his aim.
A sign ahead warned of sharp curves, and with that, Paul thought of a plan, though it was risky. He accelerated to his fastest speed yet reaching upwards of sixty miles per hour. As predicted, the SUV accelerated to stay on Paul's tail. At the last possible second, Paul slowed and jerked the steering wheel to the right, nearly coasting off the road.
Tyson was unprepared for the Malibu's sudden movement, and tried to do his best to slow down and stay on the road. Bryant missed his opportunity and was thrown back into his seat. Before he could even react, the SUV skidded to the left, unable to maintain its grounding through the tight curve. Tyson could see it coming, but couldn't believe it. The SUV smashed into the guard rail and went over the side of the mountain into the chasm below. Their screams lasted only seconds before the vehicle burst into a fiery ball at the bottom of jagged rocks and stone.
The police cavalry slowed to a halt at the sharp curve right after the break in the guard rail. The helicopters also switched position and flew overhead the explosion.
"The Senator's vehicle has descended; I repeat the Senator's vehicle has descended. Need emergency rescue teams deployed immediately," one of the officers said into their radio.
For a moment they weren't sure what to do, and had momentarily forgot about Paul.
"Suspect is still at large, headed towards the highway. Air support is advised to stay with suspect."
One the helicopters moved away from the explosion site and flew towards the highway just as Paul was merging on. He saw no vehicles in his mirror. Perhaps his car trick had shaken them off. He might make it to the city after all. Just as his confidence started build, he heard the nauseating sound of the helicopter pursuing him from above. He hadn't escaped them after all. It was going to be one long high-speed chase all the way to the city as his fuel gauge bottomed out, closer to the empty line.
Chapter Twelve
Aftermath
After Day One, Sacha had been on the road with the "Brotherhood of Men" for weeks. They had managed to evade the authorities so far in that they were always on the move. On the outside, Sacha played the nervous, meek, and submissive role, never saying much, but always listening and observing. He wanted to know of their plans. He wanted to know where they were going with the bomb and when they were planning to detonate it. Ammon and his "brothers" talked enthusiastically of their success and the amazing unprecedented capacity of the bomb they had acquired. The journey seemed to lead south.
Sacha later concluded that they were definitely headed south. Sacha rode in the van with Hasan, Omar, Ammon, Rashad, and the quiet driver named Razar who always smoked. Another van followed with some of the guerrilla militants who had gunned down the American conspirators in the blink of the eye. Two men, whom Sacha hadn't been introduced to yet, drove the tractor trailer that housed the bomb. With such a large entourage, it was surprising that they hadn't drawn attention to themselves yet. But they were careful not draw attention to themselves, and they were always on the move.
They would stop along the way for additional food and supplies--and considering the size of their vehicles--fuel was always an issue. Many of the states they went through--from Ohio to Kentucky; Tennessee to Mississippi--were in the throes of massive power outages and grid failures. They avoided urbanized areas and stuck to the main highway, often hitting major congestion where people were evacuating neighboring states along the East Coast that had been hit.
"Do you see it?" Ammon called out while staring out the front of the van into the massive ocean of cars on the highway. "It's beautiful. The very breakdown of western society that we'd been hoping for. If only they knew that, in the end, there is no escape."
Ammon frequently spoke in cryptic language, so much that Sacha couldn't figure out what was useful information and what wasn't. The only one who truly engaged in conversation with him was Ammon. He once told Sacha that he would see to it that Sacha was converted to their religion before the day of reckoning. It was a day that Sacha was confident he was going to prevent. One rainy night they stopped alongside a hidden dirt road in a Louisiana forest to get some rest. Ammon took Sacha to the back of the semi-trailer, opened the secure doors and showed him the bomb. At first all Sacha could see was the massive circular bottom. It was shaped as a giant missile, forty-feet long, resting horizontally in the back of the trailer. It looked like a rocket ship, something deemed for space travel. It was an intricate wonder of design, intimidating in its sheer mass. Ammon turned on his flashlight and beckoned Sacha ahead. They climbed into the back of the truck and walked along the side of the bomb as Ammon boasted of its sheer scope and power.
"This bomb can take out up to five American states alone. If you think what you saw earlier this month was big, you're in for quite a surprise. Once detonated we will cause an avalanche throughout this country like none seen in all of human history. America will sink. America will be destroyed. The Brotherhood of Men will take credit for everything and will go down in martyrdom as those who destroyed the evil of the world. Those who wiped it out forever."
Their footsteps echoed within the seemingly endless trailer. Sacha tried to take everything in. Ammon was giving him details on the plan. Grandiose details, for sure, but details nonetheless. Perhaps he could probe him further and get more information. One issue stuck out in his mind, however, and that was the Ammon's use of the term "martyrdom." He was genuinely curious about this and forewent his covert operation to prompt Ammon.
"So you see us as martyrs? Does this mean--does this mean you don't plan to survive this mission?"
Ammon smiled, placed an arm around Sacha, and pulled him closer.
"The range of the control module is twenty feet. None of us will be far enough away from the bomb to survive its detonation."
Ammon noticed the pale look of concern across Sacha's face.
"Relax, brother, death is nothing to fear. Once we convert you, you shall join us in paradise."
Knowing that this was indeed a suicide mission, Sacha became surprisingly direct.
"Where are you going to detonate the bomb and when?" he asked.
Sacha got a hearty laugh in return. Ammon stopped and rubbed his eyes.
"Ah, Sacha, my inquisitive friend, no one knows the answers to those questions but Rashad. This is his operation and we can't risk it being compromised by anyone, no matter how earnest they may seem."
"But you must have some general idea," Sacha probed.
His arm left Sacha as he gently rubbed the surface of the massive bomb resting inches within their faces.
"This is what I know. The Americans who employed us were traitors to their own country."
Ammon broke into laughter once again, then regained himself.
"But it wasn't just Americans. A worldwide network of powerful men had sought a way to change the world so that they could control it completely. So who do they come looking for? They went to us. They call us terrorists, as they bomb our countries and kill our people. We do not seek terror, we seek change throughout the Middle East and within the rest of the world. They made us a lucrative offer to transport and detonate a series of nuclear bombs throughout the country. If we did these acts, they promised to see our goals of regional domination in the Middle East a reality. This bomb was given to us under the pretenses that it would be recovered in time and peace declared after the start of a global order that would render America as just another country among a one world government. It was a ridiculous plan, one that our leader, Rashad, saw opportunity in. We would take the bomb for ourselves and take their plan one step further. We would launch an assault upon America so great that it could never recover. And never will."
Sacha was speechless. He knew Ammon to be homicidal, but what Ammon had told him was beyond the scope of what he believed him to be capable of. Even at his most fanatical, Ammon showed glimps
es of reason, so Sacha gave it his best shot.
"Is there any way you might reconsider this plan?" he asked.
Ammon's face dropped in near contempt for the question.
"That is an incredibly stupid question, Sacha. And I would advise you to avoid such language around the rest of the Brotherhood. They're much more suspicious of you than I. You see, I like you, but some of the others...well, they have their reasons. Just be careful what you ask, the others aren't as forgiving."
Sacha tried again.
"So you don't know where we're going?" he asked.
They reached the end of the bombs forty-foot length. Ammon turned, not saying a word, and walked back out the trailer doors as Sacha followed. Once they were outside the trailer, he spoke.
"I'm not sure. All I know is that Texas is a viable option. Now let's go back in the van and get some rest."
Sacha agreed and they headed towards the van as rain drops drizzled onto their heads. Before Sacha could open the van door Ammon stopped him and stared directly in the eyes.
"I can trust you, correct?" Ammon asked.
"Yes, you can trust me, Ammon, Sacha said.
Paul had only a few miles to go before he reached Denver's city limits. He was burning fuel quickly; driving upwards of 90 to 100 miles per hour while trying to stay ahead of the police. They were approaching in the distance. The helicopter followed his every movement from above. Though hopeful and determined, the possibility of evading the authorities began to seem like a futile exercise. Paul's only hope was that a barrage of police cars weren't awaiting him ahead with tire strips, barricades, and tanks for that matter. Towering skyscrapers were in sight, but the police showed no signs of slowing down. Paul pressed the gas pedal down as far as it would go. The pedal shook against the floorboard as the engine smoked. The radiator light flashed along with the fuel light. His car was rapidly approaching the end, and he still had several miles to go.
Inside the city, complete bedlam had broken out, in and around the convention center. The unnerved crowds had pushed far past the mandated barricades and off-limit areas, forcing the police and military to move back further. There were simply too many people to contend with. They numbered in the thousands, and once the convention center got too full, the people demanded free rein throughout the city. News reports of the missing megabomb had propelled the city into greater panic and fear, teetering on chaos. Soon men and women, young and old, managed to spread throughout the city looking for places to hide or a way to flee. One group of unruly men managed to overtake a large public bus, and commandeer it away from the convention center.
Frustrated youths donned bandanas and smashed nearby stores windows with bricks. The police and military broke into pockets of resistance as to control the random looting, but there was little control left. Hundreds of others were just scared. Scared of the overwhelming crowds, scared of the growing animosity in the streets, and scared that a bomb was soon going to wipe them all out. Several helicopters deployed overhead, dropping riot police onto the scene. As they slid down the ropes, hitting the pavement, they raised their riot guns in the air and fired several canisters of tear gas into the crowd. Their riot control methods were effective in drawing the crowd back towards the convention center, but also created a frenzied panic that sent several people to the ground in a stampede.
Paul was close. He just had to remember the location of Arthur's studio. The police were quickly and aggressively gaining. It was only a matter of time before they swept him off the road and into a jail cell, if he was so lucky. The Malibu was on its last lap. The steering wheel shook as Paul's hands perspired within his tightened grip. Smoke billowed from the front and the back of the car as the dashboard lights randomly flickered from one warning light to the next like blinking Christmas lights. Paul was pretty sure that the Malibu wouldn't make its way back into the mountains at the end of the day.
He swerved past a deserted checkpoint and remained focused on getting into the city against all the odds. A single helicopter followed his every move from above. In the broad daylight he had nowhere to hide and even if he made it, the police weren't going anywhere. They would follow him to the end.
Once Samantha and Julie made it to the bottom of the hill, beyond the overlook, they came upon another steep hill that led to the cavern. No one was around, to be sure, but how safe were they in the wilderness, alone, and armed with only Paul's pistol? Samantha could hear helicopters overhead, but they were far away. Smoke rose in the distance, following the explosion that startled both her and Julie.
"Where are we going?" Julie asked, trying to catch her breath.
"Up there," Samantha pointed. "We're going to lay low until Paul gets back. He's going to meet us in that cavern."
"All the way up there?" Julie scoffed. "Couldn't you guys have come up with an easier meet-up spot?"
"It's what we decided on," Samantha said, close to tears.
"But what about bears or cougars or something?"
Samantha trekked on while fighting back her heavy sadness and fear for Paul. They should have stuck together. Why would he leave them? What difference did some stupid laptop make? They should have ditched the Malibu and ran into the cavern together. Her thoughts subsided when she realized that there was more to everything than her own personal happiness. If this Arthur character could help them, maybe they could stop the bomb in time. She wasn't sure. Julie noticed her mother's frazzled state and locked an arm around her like an escort.
"We'll be okay, Mom," Julie said.
"I know we will," Samantha said as Julie pulled her along.
With every step upward, they fought the push of gravity and the thinning air. They were hungry, tired, and thirsty. They both tried to ignore their stomach’s growling and make their way up the hill before it was too late. The prospect of granola bars in Paul's backpack gave Samantha something to look forward to. They hadn't encountered any animals yet and she hoped that once they made it to the cavern, their track record would remain the same. They climbed the hill in their exhaustion; breaths heavy and labored, hoping to reach the top. What awaited them was uncertainty. An uncertain outcome and an uncertain future, though Samantha held onto hope like a precious family heirloom in the most dire of circumstances.
After a grueling hike, the cavern awaited them. It was a small opening into the crevice of a vast mountain that they had no hope of climbing. Not in their condition.
"We made it," Samantha said.
"Now what?" Julie asked.
"We make sure it's safe then we rest. I've got bottles of water and snacks."
"Why didn't you say so? I've been dying of thirst," Julie said.
"We didn't have any time. We had to make it here before we did anything," Samantha replied.
"Who are we running from? Why are we in trouble? Why did they say you guys were terrorists?"
Julie's line of questioning was the precise reason why Samantha didn't want to stop and eat, though she felt like she could have at least made sure Julie was hydrated. There was simply no explaining the weight of the situation to a child. Samantha may have underestimated Julie's comprehension, but the story was sordid and unnerving. Why put it on her daughter at once?
"There's been a mix-up," Samantha said. "But Paul is going to work it all out and then we'll be okay."
It felt like the greatest lie she had ever told Julie. Even as she said the words, they felt hollow and disingenuous. She had to believe it though; if not for herself, for the both of them. Paul was coming back and the world was going to be saved, even in its less than ideal state. They ventured towards the cavern when Samantha stopped and threw Paul's backpack off her shoulders. Julie watched her curiously as she retrieved the pistol and flashlight from inside.
"For the animals," Samantha said, "if we find any."
"I hope you're a good shot," Julie said cautiously.
They walked towards the cavern with Samantha leading. The opening was welcoming, sunlight beamed inside, lighting a path of s
parkling rocks and stone walls. No creature had claimed the immediate area, and they were safe to venture inside.
"Let's take a breather," Samantha said, as she sat against the wall.
"Finally," Julie said back.
They sat quietly as Samantha dispensed snacks and water between her and Julie. Julie had ended her insistent line of questioning to bask in the goodness of granola bars and water. It wasn't much, but it made all the difference. The chaos beyond the mountains, deep within the city was a foregone conclusion; all they had to focus on was the now. No one would find them, and they would wait patiently until everything was over.
Paul was blocks from the radio studio as the police surrounded him. Several police cars abandoned the pursuit when they were called away to deal with the growing riots near the convention center, but enough remained to take Paul down. The Malibu skid to the side of a red brick building and crashed without warning. The airbag smashed Paul in the face, bloodying his knuckles, and leaving him disoriented. Five police cars surrounded the crash site as they jumped out of their cars and drew their weapons.
"Get out of the car and put your hands on your head!" an officer yelled.
Paul felt warm blood trickle down his forehead. He looked to the passenger seat and saw that the laptop had been flung to the floor. He unbuckled his seatbelt and lurched forward to grab the laptop as the voices of authority shouted to him from their concealed positions. He hadn't traveled this far, leaving his wife and step-daughter behind, just to be apprehended. He staggered out of the crumpled and smoking Malibu with the laptop in-hand.
The police officer shouted new instructions.
"Lie down on the ground and put your hands above your head!"
Paul walked out of his car to see police knelt down outside their cars on each side of him. Clutching the laptop, he placed one hand in the air as a symbol of surrender. Momentarily, the police lowered their weapons; presuming that Paul was unarmed. With a bloodied face, he made a motion to indicate compliance, then ran down to the side of the other building, down the alleyway before they could even figure out what to do.