Minus America

by E. E. Isherwood

  “Oh, shit,” Kyla blurted out, ruining her laid-back image in a heartbeat. “He said you wanted…”

  The woman didn’t want a friend; she wanted to be left alone.

  “I know what to do,” Meechum said calmly. “Those guys want to screw with us? They have a pool going for how long you are going to hold onto that gun. They probably thought you’d come over here and we’d talk about bras and I’d tell you to go back to pillow fluffing, or whatever it is you do—”

  “Programming,” she replied.

  “Right. That. They think you’re a princess snowflake, Miss Kyla. Are you?” The dirty-faced warrior looked Kyla up and down.

  She thought of Uncle Ted at that moment. His phone call wasn’t a prank. She’d figured that out hours ago. What she didn’t know was why none of her calls to him or Mom were going through. There was no way to know if he was really coming for her. However, given the choice between handing over the gun and being dependent on others, or protecting herself until her uncle arrived, she knew the answer was obvious.

  “No, I’m not a snowflake, but… I’m closer to the snow than I am to you. Look at me.” She held out her arms as if to display her fast-food-styled apparel.

  The Marine cocked her head, re-appraising Kyla. “Does that bother you?”

  “Yes, it does,” she said with determination.

  “Then let’s change that.”

  Kyla was eager. “How?”

  Meechum bent over and began assembling her weapon. It gave Kyla a chance to watch as the other woman slid, poked, and hammered in all the pieces. In less than a minute, she had a fully-assembled pistol.

  “For starters, dudette, target practice.”

  Poor Sisters Convent, Oakville, MO

  She grabbed Deogee’s leash and followed as best she could toward the sound of the vehicle. They went back into the woods and emerged on the bike path, about twenty yards from the main road. Heavy undergrowth lined both sides of the path, which prevented her from getting a look at the approaching car.

  “Do I stay or go?”

  A little four-door sedan passed by in a flash. She had only enough time to observe that it was filled with people. Real, living people.

  Deogee wanted to chase the car, if her excitement was any measure of her intentions, but Rose used every bit of strength to hold her back. After seeing so many people taken by God, she came to the immediate conclusion the only people left must be evil. That made them dangerous.

  The car sounds didn’t go away. The motor changed pitch and the whine of gears going in reverse gave her a last heads up what to expect.

  Deogee didn’t seem to care about good or evil. She only wanted to meet the new people.

  Sister Rose shifted uneasily on the path. Each side had plenty of hiding spots, but it was hard to decide where to go. Plus, her canine friend would be difficult, perhaps impossible, to control if they were working toward opposite goals.

  The delay of those few seconds made her plan meaningless.

  The car was there.

  “Lord, help me,” she prayed.

  The driver was a young woman, perhaps college age. She was brunette with three long braids hanging off the back of her head. Rose noticed the hairstyle as the woman turned to talk to the others with her.

  Another girl was in the back seat. Were they in trouble?

  Seemingly at once, all the doors opened. Four people hopped out, gathered hurriedly, and then strode toward Rose.

  Now she did take a few steps in reverse. Each of the people carried a shotgun.

  But they were young—

  The teen girl from the back seat looked like she was going to the beach. She wore a revealing light-blue top with nothing but spaghetti straps for support and a tiny pair of shorts.

  A chunky boy next to her wore a blue windbreaker. Odd, given the heat of the day.

  The second boy wore a bright blue jogging suit and red sneakers.

  The young woman who’d been driving had on black stretch pants and a white shirt, with her sleeves rolled up.

  Deogee was frantic at her side. Her tail wagged like a helicopter rotor and she was apparently anxious to greet the newcomers by how hard she pulled at the leash. Rose admitted the big dog could easily have pulled her along if it wanted.

  Her impression of the frightening-looking strangers changed as they neared. Yes, they were young, and yes, they hefted big black shotguns, but they were exhausted. Rose saw it in their eyes, in their postures, in their shuffling way of walking.

  By the time they were in handshake range, she was sure they meant her no harm.

  Deogee whined with happiness.

  “Hello,” Sister Rose said aloud without thinking about it.

  “Oh, my!” she thought an instant later.

  She couldn’t take it back. After all that, she’d broken her vow. Rose began to worry about how she’d failed again…

  The young driver’s expression morphed again. Her tired eyes perked up. Her determined look softened as if they’d found relief. As if they’d found rescue.

  “That is the most beautiful word anyone has ever spoken,” she gushed. “Thank you for being here!”

  Deogee jumped on the newcomers with glee, slathering them with kisses as she’d done with Rose.

  Rose was shaken to her core as the kids gathered around them. They had no idea of her internal struggles or that she’d blown a year’s worth of work maintaining her vow of silence. None of that mattered in the moment.

  She’d done something good.

  Amarillo, TX

  Brent gripped his Berretta and held it casually at his side. He stepped out of the security booth, even though he could have stayed safe on the inside. His reasoning was simple: if it was his time, then so be it. Everything around him was his fault, anyway. When he ran, they ran.

  “What can I do for you boys?”

  The prisoners held together in a tight group at the bottom of the main stairwell. He had no desire to hurt any of them, but if things got spicy, he’d have to shoot them in order to go upstairs to freedom.

  “Are they really dead on the outside? Like those men up on the main floor?”

  Another prisoner added, “Is there anywhere we can go?”

  “I have no idea how far the, well, erasure goes. There’s nothing on the radio from Liberal, Kansas, down to Lubbock, as best I can tell. Nothing on at all. No news, anyway.” He didn’t mention the one music station that seemed to be on eternal autopilot.

  A shaggy-haired young man stepped in front of the others. It was a guy named Paul. His arms were filled with bird tattoos and he pretended to be a Native American, even though he wasn’t. Brent always thought he was harmless, though he apparently had a fondness for stealing gas, because he’d been busted numerous times for driving off without paying. Those thousands of dollars of free fuel finally earned him a six-pack of months on Brent’s floor. “We want to stay with you, until we find out what to do next. I have no one on the outside. Nowhere to go. I don’t want to leave, okay?”

  Brent laughed to himself, never imagining he’d have this problem.

  “What about you others?” he inquired.

  As a group, they all made it clear they wanted to stay in the prison.

  Brent was at a crossroads. He’d imagined tossing everyone out, and then going back home, but now he had two choices.

  Living with prisoners, willingly?

  Or going back to his empty house…

  “It’s getting late in the day. I don’t see any reason why we can’t keep the prison open for another night. Why don’t you all go back to your cells. I’ll keep ‘em unlocked. Tomorrow, we’ll probably know more about what happened to the towns around us. When things get back to normal, I bet they’ll commute your sentences since you stayed here willingly.”

  It was nice to offer them a carrot.

  Near Dulles International Airport, VA

  “So, how long do you think this power will last?” Emily Williams asked Ted in a friendly
way.

  “I have no idea. I’m a pilot, not an electrician,” he replied, channeling Dr. McCoy from Star Trek.

  They’d taken shelter in a suburban home after they’d left the airport. Once night fell, Ted and Emily agreed the worst threat of pursuit was over. Ramirez had left Ted to die in the fire, and everyone would assume Emily was dead in the burning wreckage of Air Force Two.

  The house had one set of dropped men’s clothes in the garage, but nothing else inside the home. For Ted, he was glad to know there were no dead inside with them. Not superstition, he reasoned; it was respect for the deceased.

  They took seats inside the spacious living room. She sat in a loveseat, while he was on the front edge of a nearby recliner.

  Ted’s tone dipped down a notch, always worried about spies. “Emily, I’ve been waiting to tell you this until we weren’t in the open. I think we’re as safe as we can be, for now.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I ditched Ramirez because someone on the radio knew about the rendezvous time. I couldn’t take the risk it was him. He fired on me as I drove away, confirming I was right. And then he left me to die! That’s just low, no matter what side he’s on.” Ted took a deep breath. “And you should know I had a brief opportunity to sift through that black bag. It was his. He’d convinced me he was going to the White House to steal treasures—paintings, china, whatever. He did take some guns, which I could forgive, but it was all cover for the real prize…”

  “Which is?”

  “The briefcase with the nuclear codes,” he said gravely.

  She rubbed her chin. “It would have been close to the president, so that makes sense. But why bother? If the whole of America is gone, there would be no one to man the nuclear silos. No one at NORAD. No one at CENTCOM. All the defense infrastructure is free for the taking.”

  As soon as she said it, they looked at each other.

  “Well, you know what my orders are going to be, don’t you?”

  He acknowledged her statement with a curt nod. “There are nuke subs and cruise missiles around the world. Most of our warfighting gear is overseas, assuming this superweapon didn’t erase them, too. We’ve got to warn them. Get them back here before the people who stole that briefcase can learn how to use it.”

  She sat back in the comfy sofa and seemed to relax a tiny bit. “You read my mind.”

  “Emily, ma’am, you are president now. You know that, right?”

  “Please, if you ma’am or sir or otherwise defer to me as anything but your equal, I’m going to demote you.” She smiled at the obvious irony. “But seriously, for right now, we can’t get hung up in orders and rank. If I’m president or not, it doesn’t matter. I have no people to lead. No government to instruct. No military to command.”

  “You do have one person to command,” he said seriously. “My duty has never changed. I’ll protect you while we get back to friendly forces so you can do what needs doing, though…”

  “What is it?”

  “My niece. I can’t stop thinking about her. I spoke with her right when all this kicked off. After talking to my—”

  An emotional bubble welled up from deep inside him. Rebecca was gone. She lived in an apartment in New York City, which would have had no defense against whatever death ray blasted America. “My sister asked me to find and keep her daughter safe.”

  “Is the girl alive?”

  “I don’t know. She’s on the John F. Kennedy. You talked to them briefly, after the attack was over. She could be…”

  “You want to go find her, don’t you?”

  He would make good on his promise to Rebecca, but not until he fulfilled his oath to defend the Constitution of the United States. If the brutal attack on America was as complete and widespread as his sister suggested, he would have his hands full protecting the highest-ranking official in the country. Kyla, if she survived on the aircraft carrier, was probably better off than he was. He prayed she would find a way to survive until he could get to her.

  “Eventually, yes,” he replied. “There are people alive on the JFK, so there’s a good chance she survived. She’s all I have left. However…” He breathed in. “The rest of our military will come home and fight this war. It’s my job to keep you alive until they do.”

  “I’m grateful to have you, Ted, and I wish nothing but the best for your loved ones. This isn’t going to sound like some grand presidential plan, but our first order of business is getting a few hours of sleep. We have a big day ahead of us. Probably several big days.”

  For a first order, rack time was a good one. His battlefield promotion came with a steep price: he needed to be at his sharpest all the time. Ted had served up some dumb mistakes today, and that couldn’t happen tomorrow. He was responsible for the most important woman in America.

  She turned out the lights as he got comfortable on his stretched recliner.

  “Good night, John Boy,” she giggled softly.

  “Oh, that’s how it’s going to be?” He cracked up.

  “My parents taught me to keep my humor in all things. That’s what got me through those boring political dinners. That’s how I’m going to survive you.”

  He threw a pillow into the shadows, glad to be alive.

  Tomorrow, there was a country to save.

  To Be Continued in Minus America, Book 2

  If you enjoyed this book, please leave a review. Since this is a new series for me, I need to decide if there is enough reader interest for me to write more books in this world. I would love to, but only if I can still feed my guinea pig, hamster, corn snake, leopard gecko, cattle dog mutt, and, not be left out, myself and my family. So, you see, your review is literally mission critical!

  But wait! There’s more. I have a short author note to follow.

  This book is a work of fiction.

  All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Sometimes both.

  Minus America (and what happens within / characters / situations / worlds)

  are Copyright (c) 2019 by E.E. Isherwood

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of E.E. Isherwood

  Version 1.0

  Cover by Covers by Christian

  Editing by Mia at LKJ Books

  Author Notes – E.E. Isherwood

  Written May 31, 2019

  The first thing I want to say is thanks. Thanks for taking a chance with this new book series. Thanks for reading to the end. Thanks for leaving a review (you did, right? I’ll send Deogee if you don’t!). And thanks for sticking with me to this author’s note.

  If my calculations are correct, this is the 20th book I’ve written since I became a full-time author in 2015. Some of them are unpublished, and some are just drafts, but all of them are mine. Each one has a unique character which goes beyond the words on the pages.

  I wrote my first book (Since the Sirens) after my grandmother passed away. I imagine her spirit helped drive that series to great sales and greater reviews. Many readers loved following that spunky 104-year-old woman as she fought alongside her great-grandson to survive the zombie apocalypse.

  My Eternal Apocalypse series (currently in re-writes) was the first series set in a place I’d been to with my parents when I was a kid. Those books evoked strong memories about those trips, and I hope I conveyed that excitement when describing the Hoover Dam and the broken country nearby.

  My End Days series, co-written with indie powerhouse author Craig Martelle, took my travel experience to the next level. All four books feature locations across America where I’d been over the course of my life. They were fun to write in a post-apocalyptic setting and a great learning experience for me as an author.

  Minus America builds on all those lessons. It was wonderful to wr
ite because of the locations, and I cracked myself up several times during the re-writes, because I loved the journeys of each of my characters in those interesting places.

  I’ve been on several battleships, including the one for my home state: the USS Missouri. I’ve even been on one aircraft carrier, though it isn’t a modern one by any stretch. The USS Lexington was a travel stop of mine in Corpus Christi, Texas. I used that experience to write about Kyla on the JFK.

  I’ve been into the Bonne Terre mine.

  I’ve been in and around Washington D.C. and the Dulles Airport. I’ve not been to Andrews, but Google Maps filled in for me.

  And I’ve recently been made aware of a small convent tucked into the woods near my childhood home in St. Louis. Sister Rose and her problems take place on a similar property.

  My point isn’t to dwell on the places I’ve been, but to show that our amazing world has an infinite number of people and stories waiting to be told. I see carriers and mines and windswept plains and wonder what happened there in the past. I tell stories to my kids about the journeys I took around my own neighborhood when I was their age, as if packing a lunch and riding my bike all day was the height of exploration. For a ten-year-old, it felt like it.

  As an author trying to pen adventures worth as much, or a little more, than the paper they’re printed on, I try to maintain that youthful wonder writing about our interconnected world. Minus America goes big and bold, by introducing a weapon which removes American citizens from the world map.

  Without her people, what will happen to American cities and highways and schools and homes and…everything else? Can the few remaining survivors ever hope to protect it? What will other nations do without Sheriff Uncle Sam to keep the peace? Who was responsible for this evil act?

  Let’s find out together.

  But don’t worry. All isn’t lost. My books always have an underlying element of hope and humor, because that’s what I learned from my parents during those early life adventures. If the apocalypse ever comes, it will be helpful to know your way around the world. It can’t hurt to laugh a bit during the trip.