by Hunt, James
Kate wasn’t sure how long she stared but knew that it was too long based off the man’s nervous laughter.
“It’s not poison.” He leaned closer, dropping his voice to a whisper. “At least yours isn’t.” He gestured to a couple chatting nearby. “Never really liked those two.” Kate’s expression didn’t break, and he cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I’m joking, of course.”
“Right.” Kate shook her head and then took the coffee. She pressed both palms against its warmth. It was the first warm thing she’d held since the EMP went off two days ago. She lingered on that last thought. Had it really been two days?
“I’m Rick.” He extended his free hand, the smile returned to his face.
“Kate.” She took it, and his grip was firm. She examined the cup. “I forgot you could heat things up without power.”
Rick took a seat on her cot, though he kept his distance. “The military may be a drag when it comes to wanting to go where you want to go, but they did bring a lot of rations with them.” He raised the cup then sipped and grimaced. “Not very good, though. But a lot of it.”
Kate sipped, burning her tongue, but found that he was right. The black sludge was more of a distant cousin to coffee than the legitimate heir.
“Told you.”
Kate set the coffee down and then stood. “I’m sorry, but I have to go and see my son.”
“You have a kid here?”
“Yes,” Kate answered, exhausted. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” She left him with his shitty coffee on the cot. She didn’t glance behind her, afraid that he’d follow, but she eventually snuck a peek once she was outside. Thankfully, he wasn’t there.
A group of armed soldiers walked past, and Kate flagged one of them down. “Excuse me, do you know where The Commons House is?”
“No, but all of the dormitories have been escorted to the cafeteria,” he said then pointed behind her. “It’s that big grey building. You’ll see the line out front.”
“Thank you—” But when she turned, the soldiers were already up ahead, chatting amongst themselves and adjusting the rifles on their shoulders.
When she’d arrived in the night, the darkness had concealed the number of soldiers, but in the light of day she saw the place was crawling with them.
Kate walked over to the cafeteria, racking her brain for a way to convince Luke to come back with her. She longed for the days when she could just pick him up and carry him. That would have made things much simpler.
She found the line for breakfast and bypassed it. Nerves and the desire to get out of here as soon as possible had replaced hunger. She prayed the plane was still in that field.
Inside, hundreds of people had already found their way to the tables, most of them shoveling the food around on their trays instead of eating it. And while it didn’t look appetizing, the smell started to bring the hunger out.
“Mom!”
Kate’s heart stopped, and she turned toward Luke’s voice. He stood with his hand in the air, waving, and to her surprise, smiling. Once he knew that she’d seen him, he plopped back down into his seat, and Kate noticed the same girl from the night before sitting next to him, her head down, buried in a bowl of oatmeal.
“Scoot over, guys.” Luke shooed some of his friends down the long bench seats but then stopped when he noticed Kate didn’t have a tray in her hands. “You’re not hungry?”
“No, I’m fine.” Kate smiled politely at the others, not recognizing any of them.
“Everyone, this is my mom,” Luke said. “Mom, this is Doug, Barry, Kit, Mace, and, um...” He cleared his throat and blushed. “This is Claire.”
The young girl stood at the sound of her name, springing up like a fresh daisy that had longed for springtime. She thrust out her hand, her cheeks red. “It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Hillman.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, Claire.” Kate let go of the girl’s hand and whispered into Luke’s ear. “I need to talk to you for a minute.”
Claire sat down, and Luke nodded.
Once they were a safe distance away from any ears, Kate spoke. “Luke, we have to leave.” Her son stood there, towering six inches above her, the features of his face set like hard granite. She took his hand. “I know you don’t want to leave, but—”
“I’m not leaving Claire behind, Mom.” He didn’t remove his hand from hers, and instead he squeezed them tighter. “I wasn’t just blowing smoke at you last night. I love her. I’m staying.”
Kate cupped Luke’s face, desperation clinging to her like morning dew. “Son, I can’t leave you here. You don’t know what’s going on out there. You don’t— Even the military doesn’t really know what’s happening.” She glanced around, making sure there weren’t any soldiers nearby. “The power isn’t coming back on, and we need to get out of any highly populated areas. If the fighting is as bad in the capital as I’ve heard, then it won’t be long before the fighting comes here. And if we try to leave then, it’ll be too late.”
She waited for Luke to say something, anything, but he just stared at her, almost mockingly. But he had the good sense to stifle any smirks.
“Mom, we’re surrounded by soldiers.” He released her hands. “We have food, water, and shelter. This is the safest place we could possibly be.”
Kate steeled herself, and her expression caused Luke’s boyish features to return. A mother’s scorn had that effect. “You think it’s a good idea to keep you and your girlfriend in a circle of guns? What happens when those guns are used? What happens when the small semblance of order here falls?”
Luke laughed. “Mom, I don’t—”
“No, you don’t!” Kate raised her volume and pulled a few heads in their direction. “People have died, Luke. Killed by their neighbors, by strangers, by the terrorists responsible for all of this. The moment this place is under attack, law and order go out the window. Those men with the guns will fight for themselves, and you’ll be stuck in the crosshairs.” Her voice cracked. “I won’t let you die here.”
The tears flowed despite Kate’s resistance, and Luke hugged her. It was a pitying embrace but one that she still welcomed.
“Mom, I’m not—”
Gunshots thundered. They were far enough away to be dulled by distance and the cafeteria’s walls but close enough to end the senseless chatter as heads turned toward the commotion.
Soldiers shouted and sprinted past the windows. Kate stepped around her son, watching the soldiers rush toward the source of the gunfire. More of it thundered. It grew closer. She turned around and reached for Luke’s hand.
“We have to go. Now.” Her tone was hurried and frightened, but Luke just stared into the distance, past the windows and the soldiers, his eyes blank, his expression devoid of understanding.
An explosion erupted near one of the buildings. A plume of fire jettisoned into the morning sky, burning bright and hot. The cafeteria rumbled in coordination with the blast, and that stunned silence was quickly replaced by gasps of surprise, ducking heads, and panic.
Trays of food were flung in haste as people sprinted for the exits. Kate grabbed hold of Luke’s hand, but he lunged back toward the table for Claire, who struggled to make her way through the crowd.
“Claire!” Luke clawed through the bodies, gunshots silencing the chorus of screams inside the mess hall.
Kate tried to stop him, but it was all she could do to simply hang on for the ride. Shoulders and arms bumped into her as Luke grabbed hold of Claire’s hand and then pulled both of them toward the nearest door, which happened to be the one closest to the gunshots.
Outside, the cold air blasted Kate’s face, and Luke turned north, away from the cluster of soldiers that had crouched behind the cover on the building closest to the explosion.
Kate caught only a glimpse of the fight as Luke yanked both her and Claire away from the danger.
She wasn’t sure how long she sprinted, but Kate was the first to run out of gas. She gave Luke’s arm a tug, and they jerked to a stop. She
gasped for breath, her muscles turned to jelly.
“What do we do?” Claire asked.
A group of soldiers hurried past, and Luke grabbed hold of one of them, his hand clamped tight around his arm. “Where are they coming from?”
The soldier snarled and yanked his arm free then jogged to rejoin his men. “Fucking everywhere!”
Another explosion sounded, and both Kate and Claire stepped toward Luke. The blast was farther away than the first, toward the west side of the campus, but more ferocious gunfire followed it.
“Mom, how far is the plane?” Luke asked.
“A few miles.” Kate looked around, trying to get her bearings. “We need to get back onto the main road that leads into the campus. I should be able to retrace my steps from there.”
The trio sprinted off, Luke leading the way through the campus. They passed more soldiers, and every few seconds, they flinched from gunfire, but they never stopped running.
“There’s the road.” Luke pointed. “Now, where?”
Kate took the lead, though the pace she set was slower. They weaved between the vehicles on the highway, Kate glancing everywhere, her eyes peeled on the woods to her left and the open field to her right. With all of the abandoned vehicles, there were so many places for people to hide.
Every step forward, Kate couldn’t help but think of what lay beyond. One of those terrorists with a gun, ready to plow the three of them down. Memories of New York flashed in her head. The bodies, the bullets, the blood and screams.
Kate stopped and steadied herself against the side of a truck. She gasped for breath, hyperventilating. She was suddenly beneath all of those bodies, the terrorists standing on top of her. The heat coming off them was like the heat from a dying fire.
“Mom, are you all right?” Luke asked, taking hold of her arm.
Kate shut her eyes and nodded, trying to reel herself back to the present. “I’m fine.” She popped her eyes open and saw worried expressions on both Luke and Claire. “We need to keep moving.”
After her little episode, Kate pulled them closer to the forest line, where they had a clearer path. Her eyes darted to the side more than they stayed in front of her as she searched for an enemy that wasn’t there.
“How much farther?” Luke asked.
Kate squinted through the trees. She had no idea. “Should be just up ahead.”
Leaves and snow crunched underfoot, and a breeze rustled dead branches and fallen leaves. Kate stopped, and Luke and Claire stopped with her.
“What?” Luke asked. “Mom, what—”
Kate waved at him angrily, hushing him. She perked her ear toward the direction of the voices carried through the trees, and Kate immediately pulled Luke down, with Claire following suit.
Her heart pounded wildly in her chest, her eyes scanning for the source of the noise, and then she spotted three men between the trees, each of them armed with rifles, dressed in long robes that concealed their faces, save for their eyes.
Kate turned to Luke and Claire, pressing her finger to her lips, and the terrorists grew louder, closer. When she turned back, she saw the trio had diverted their path toward them. Kate motioned Luke and Claire to follow, and they crawled through the snow.
Every creak of her joints, every crunch of her knees and hands into the snowfall brought with it a cringe. Kate kept a bead on the terrorists to her left. She stopped when they stopped. And so did Luke and Claire.
Once they were out of the terrorists’ path, Kate stopped, hunched behind a dead tree, and waited for them to pass. It wasn’t until they were out of sight and she could no longer hear their foreign tongue that she gave a long exhalation.
“Thank God,” Kate said.
“Who are those people?” Luke asked, his eyes still trained on their footprints. “Are they the ones attacking us?”
“Yeah,” Kate answered, turning back to where they disappeared.
“Who are they?” Claire asked.
“It doesn’t matter.” Kate stood and brushed the snow and leaves off of her. “We need to go.” She stepped from the cover of the tree and froze when the barrel of a rifle bore down on her face.
“Tawaquf!” The words were shouted through the cloth covering the man’s mouth. He shoved the end of his rifle into Kate’s face. “Ealaa Rakbatayk!”
Kate kept her hands in the air and stepped back. Luke jumped to her side, throwing his body in front of hers, which she quickly peeled away. “No, don’t!”
The soldier repeated his screams, shaking the rifle at them like a stick. After a minute, foreign voices returned the lone soldier’s cries. Kate turned in horror to see the other fighters making their return. They were at least one hundred yards away, but they moved quickly.
The terrorist jammed the end of his rifle barrel into Kate’s shoulder and shoved her backward, slamming her into Luke and Claire.
“Hey!” Luke reached for the rifle, and in the same instant, Kate heard a gunshot.
Claire screamed, and Kate watched the color drain from Luke’s face as he collapsed into the snow. She dropped to his side, Claire falling with him. Kate’s hands found the wound on the left side of his chest, and she applied pressure.
“Mom?” Luke’s voice was little more than a whisper. He was suddenly pale and sweaty.
“It’s all right, Luke.” Kate steadied her voice, trying to remain focused, trying to hold it all together. “Shh, it’s all right.” Kate flicked her eyes up, and through the trees, she saw the terrorists sprinting toward her.
Kate’s head tilted forward, the rifle barrel pressed hard into the back of her skull. Her eyes met the eyes of Claire, who was crying and on the edge of hysteria.
More blood oozed from Luke’s bullet wound, warming Kate’s hand and then spilling onto the snow. His eyes fluttered closed, and he stopped shaking.
Kate shut her eyes, adrenaline fueling the rage bubbling to the precipice of action, and then exploded upward, turning and swinging both arms, knocking the rifle to the side. The gun fired, and the terrorist stumbled backward, eyes wide with surprise.
Kate snatched at the rifle, the steel cold against her grip. Another gunshot fired into the trees, vibrating her arms and hands, but she didn’t let go.
The rifle’s stock pressed into her throat, and Kate’s airflow tightened. Her breaths transformed into raspy gasps, and the pressure increased.
Claire flung herself on the terrorist’s back in an effort to help, and Kate wrestled the rifle from his grip. She flipped it around in her hands, her finger finding the trigger, and squeezed.
A red mark stained the terrorist’s chest, spreading over the cloth as he was flung backward, crashing into the snow next to her son.
The terrorist’s comrades screamed and sprinted faster through the woods at the sight of their fallen brother.
Kate took hold of Luke’s left arm and tucked the rifle under her right shoulder. “Claire, grab his other hand!” The girl did as she was told, though she sobbed through the whole ordeal. “We need to pull him. C’mon!”
Luke’s body jerked forward with a jolt, and a red smear trailed through the white snow, his back scraping against the rocks and roots beneath. He groaned. Kate stopped.
“We need to get him up.” Kate dropped to Luke’s side and looked up at Claire, who was glancing back toward the terrorists. “Claire, c’mon!”
Claire stepped away from Luke. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. I can’t.”
“Claire, don’t!” Kate watched Claire disappear into the woods and then saw one of the terrorists break from his group to chase her down.
Kate squatted low and hooked her arms beneath Luke’s pits. Her boots scraped the frozen ground, and she dragged him four feet before she tripped over a rock and collapsed backward.
Claire screamed, and Kate shuddered when she heard the gunshot that silenced it. She found the two terrorists chasing her had cut the distance between them in half. Kate forced herself up and yanked Luke forward, a wild panic to her retreat. She w
asn’t going to let them die here, not after coming so far.
Kate pushed through a cluster of branches and high bushes, and then she saw it. Less than fifty feet away was the plane she stashed next to the clearing. She turned back toward the woods, the terrorists fifty yards away.
Kate propped Luke up against the plane and then opened the cabin door. She wrapped her arms around his stomach and then heaved him onto the seat. His legs dangled from the cabin door, and she awkwardly folded them inside.
Once Luke was inside the cockpit, Kate snatched one of the ignition starters, then pumped the primer three times, and pushed the aircraft from the tree line and onto the field.
A gunshot burst from the forest, and Kate jumped as she shoved the ignition starter into place. She reached high with both arms and pulled the propeller down with all her might. Her fatigued muscles strained from the effort, but they provided enough power to start the old Skyranger, and the terrorists’ shouts were drowned out by the engine’s throttling.
Kate jumped into the cockpit, frantically running through the prestart, her hands sticky with Luke’s blood, and then released the brake and hit the throttle. The engine whined, but as loud as it was, she still heard the terrorist’s gunfire.
The contact of the bullets vibrated through the cockpit, and Kate white-knuckled the throttle. As the speedometer ticked upward, the engine’s roar drowned out the rest of the gunshots.
Kate pulled back on the stick. “C’mon, baby. C’mon!” The cockpit rattled, and the plane jumped with lift and then landed hard on its wheels. The end of the field was closing in, and Kate pushed the throttle down further, pulling back on the stick with all her might. “Gaaahhh!”
The Skyranger’s nose lifted, and the wheels separated from the field. The top of the trees disappeared as Kate continued her strained pull on the stick, and the wheels scuffed the tip of a conifer just before clearing.
Kate’s muscles relaxed, and she laughed in triumph. “YES!” She leveled the plane out a bit so the engine wouldn’t stall and then turned to her son, who still lay unconscious in the seat. “Luke? Can you hear me?” She patted his cheeks, and when he groaned in response, she smiled. “Good boy.” She pulled a first aid kid out of from behind her seat, her gloved fingers fumbling it open awkwardly, and then applied gauze over the wound. “Just hang on, Luke.”