Highway: A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Survival

by John Q. Prepper

  They jumped on board and she looked down at the ignition, right near the steering wheel, where she assumed the keys would be. It was empty and the keys weren’t there.

  He had lied.

  ~~~

  Abdul scooped the volumes of papers from his desk with his palm open and arm extended, pushing the mass into an open valise he held at the edge of the desk. Not caring about their condition, he shoved the documents containing many of their attack plans deep into it and then snapped the clasp shut. In one motion he tossed it at the door and immediately turned his attention to the next item, like he was abruptly going through a mental packing list for a long trip.

  Pack the briefcase: Check!

  He leaned below his desk and pulled up a box from a shelf hidden in shadows. Laying it on top of the desk, he unlatched it and opened it to reveal a stopwatch sitting on top of a tangle of wires snaking from it to gray clay-like blocks, nested on its bottom.

  It was overkill, but he wasn’t one to take chances.

  He moved the hands to five minutes forward and clicked the button, setting it into motion. Closing the box without latching it again—what was the point?—he pushed it away.

  Bomb readied to take out the enemy and hide intelligence: Check!

  Clutching his briefcase, he slid out the door, his rifle pointed forward, finger on the trigger.

  He had a boat to catch.

  ~~~

  Frank had found himself back in his cage room, the one he had just escaped from.

  This time he had taken a position prone on the floor, rifle aimed up toward the door that had, at least until a minute ago, been receiving all the gunfire. Like a hunter in his blind, he waited for his prey: in this case, the next person to walk through the door.

  He knew his enemy’s tactics. One of the lowest-ranked men would rush through the door, accepting martyrdom through his bullets, while others followed right behind with overpowering force. Or they would toss in a grenade.

  He was prepared for either and waited patiently.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  A shadow appeared and then stopped by the door, but low, not like someone was about to burst in.

  A small mirror slid into view, but only about foot-level in the doorway, and then immediately withdrew before he could lower his weapon and shoot: he was pointed up, around chest level.

  An object was tossed through the doorway, in his direction.

  Grenade!

  Frank spun around and hugged the floor, now inside the cage room, snug against the wall, with his feet crossed and pointed at the doorway. He closed his eyes, covered his ears with his palms and opened his mouth wide.

  In an instant, his room exploded in light that he saw through his eyelids.

  Frank knew this device very well, as he had used one like it many times. It was a flash grenade, not something he expected terrorists to use: they preferred mostly to blow shit up.

  When he heard “Clear!” from the outer room entrance, Frank did two things quickly. He flung himself spread-eagle on the ground, hands splayed out, and he hollered, “Major Frank Cartwright, U.S. Army Retired. I am alone.”

  “Anyone else in this building, sir?” a reassuring voice asked from the doorway.

  “No, I’m it,” he replied from the floor.

  “Are you able to stand, sir?” the voice asked from above him.

  Frank looked up and smiled at the sergeant offering a hand. “Damn straight, Sergeant!”

  He held on to the hand, returning the solid grip which turned into a handshake. “Damn, it’s great to see you guys. Where did you come from and how the hell did you know?”

  “Thank you, Sir. We’re from Camp Shelby. My commander received a frantic call from a Lieutenant Grimes from Stowell, Texas, who said his son, a Corporal Grimes, and a Major Cartwright were going to single-handedly take down the head Haji who nuked America. Our commander wanted blood and so we got here as soon as we could, as soon as we could find you.”

  “Well, thank you, Sergeant. Now, I need to find someone.”

  “Are there any other prisoners?” the tall Army sergeant asked.

  “Not here, but my two godchildren are being held by Abdul and his men. I was just about to try and free them when you and your men showed up.”

  “Is one of them a young woman, and the other a smaller boy?”

  “Yes!” Frank froze, “Where are they?”

  “We saw them running to a boat by a dock, followed by another man. One of our men went to—” The sergeant stopped to watch the major snatch up his rifle and charge to the door. “Where are you going, sir?”

  “I’m going to get my kids.”

  Chapter 37

  Lexi and Frank

  Lexi looked everywhere for the keys, but she couldn’t find them.

  She could have turned over everything, but there was no use. They were definitely not on the boat. Abdul had lied to her, this was the only thing she was certain of.

  She shot a protective glance at Travis who sat on the padded swivel seat beside her, patiently watching her work. He seemed unafraid, or maybe he was just empty. She knew she was, as she searched her mind for their next move.

  Maybe we could float away?

  She thought if she released their tether to the dock, the current would take them down the river. It was better than remaining here.

  Lexi sprang up to undo the rope, just as Abdul stepped on the boat. He brushed past her, sat in the driver’s seat and thrust the key—the one she had been searching for—into the ignition. The boat’s engine grumbled to life.

  Lexi eyed the dock, their only escape, but saw he had already unmoored them. They were starting to drift away, the current grabbing hold of them.

  Abdul gunned the engine and the boat lunged forward, sending Lexi tumbling backward onto the deck. Abdul backed off the gas.

  “You best sit down if you don’t want to go overboard.” Abdul gleamed his deceit.

  Lexi rose to her knees as Abdul slid the throttle forward again, moving the boat back toward the dock. Her hand found the knife, and she withdrew it, quietly snapping it open. She calculated it was only five feet to Abdul. She eyed him as he studied her and what was beyond her.

  Just as she was ready to leap, Abdul brought up the rifle slung around his neck and quickly fired off a round past her.

  Hearing it connect, she turned her head to see a man in an Army uniform. He fell into the water, and as quick as he was there, he was gone, like he’d never existed.

  She turned back to Abdul again, now more determined.

  With eyes fixed on her target, she sprang up as Abdul opened the boat’s throttle all the way.

  Lexi brought her knife around, intending to connect with his neck, but with the boat’s movement not accounted for in her leap, she connected directly with Abdul’s cheek, burying the knife in it.

  The boat’s motion carried her past him into the floor behind. She turned to stand and saw him rise up, turning to her. His eyes were wide and crazed; she had surprised him with her move. He pulled the knife from his wound and dropped it to the floor. He stood for a moment above her, blood streaming from his face, with a look that swiftly changed from astonishment to anger. He lifted his rifle as if he were going to fire it at her. Lexi was helpless where she was, and he was quick.

  They banged into something, maybe another boat, and he stumbled, reaching for the side of the boat in an attempt to buttress his misstep, but he only found air.

  Lexi was now the one who was astonished; she watched him tumble over the side and into the water. As he went over, his eyes were no longer wide with surprise or anger: his hand was pressed to his face, so she couldn’t see the full expression, but she would have sworn he was smiling just before he slipped into the black water. It looked like he was proud.

  Travis was standing over her, offering her his hand.

  She lifted herself up and was about to thank him for the helping hand, when she saw what was coming right at them.


  “Get dow—” she attempted to yell, but it was too late.

  Their boat, at full throttle and the wheel turned slightly, had spun completely around and was now doing 20 knots downstream. They were headed right for a shoreline.

  They hit the shore, and then their inertia propelled the boat up and then into ground.

  Lexi had tried to pull her body down and take Travis with her, but before she could do it, they were both airborne. She was shocked to find they were traveling over the boat, which crashed into something below them, and they were flying. She felt like they may continue to go upward forever, maybe leaving the atmosphere. Both their bodies spun around, and they saw nothing but cloudless skies, and then trees, and then grass, and then the boat—now much farther away—and then grass again.

  Then they hit.

  She knew she wasn’t dead because her shoulder hurt and she still felt the soreness in her wrists.

  Pain was good at this point.

  She also felt and heard her heart racing in both her ears. But she heard nothing else. She opened her eyes, unaware she had them closed this whole time and was staring skyward once again. “Travis?” she croaked.

  She lifted her head, “Travis?” she said a little louder.

  Still no other sounds, not even gunshots.

  There was a small rustle in the grass, beyond her feet, and so she pushed up her trunk to get a better look.

  It was him.

  He looked dazed, and still hadn’t answered. “Are you hurt?” She asked again. It almost hurt to talk as she felt her wind had been knocked out of her.

  “I … don’t think so,” he said in the voice she often heard when he’d first wake up, like he wasn’t all there.

  They were both going to live.

  She lay down for just a second to try and catch her breath. She earned this rest, before they’d have to run away.

  A sound was coming toward them.

  Lexi lifted her head once again, but couldn’t see past the tall grass they were in.

  The sound was of someone coming right at them.

  She pushed herself up farther and could see it was definitely a man. He wore dirty, ill-fitted clothes, and his rifle was pointed in their direction from only a few feet away. There was no way they could run.

  She spun around and threw herself on top of Travis, knowing it was a futile attempt to shield him, but she had to do something. She had nothing to protect them with, no weapons. She smiled at Travis and said, “I love you, brother. I’m so sorry I’ve been so angry for so long. It wasn’t you. It was all me. Please know that.”

  “Lexi?” questioned the man, from right above them.

  “It’s okay, Lexi. It’s Frank Cartwright. You know, your godfather?”

  She lifted her head once more, tears in her eyes. Tears of joy.

  Behind the beard and the foggy eyes, she saw it was her godfather: the same man who she’d seen yesterday. He had come to save them.

  “Oh my God, it’s really you?”

  She bounded off of Travis and leapt onto Frank, almost sending him to the ground.

  “Ouch! Hang on, I hurt in way too many places to do that. But, I’m damned glad to see you and—”

  Her head was buried against his chest, so she didn’t really hear too much of what he said, but she heard him stop talking.

  “Whoa there, Travis. It’s Frank, your godfather. You may not remember me.”

  Lexi uncoupled herself from him and spun around to find Travis standing holding something at them.

  “Now Travis, why don’t you put the gun down, son.”

  Travis was holding Lexi’s silver revolver—the one that was missing. Abdul and his men didn’t take it; Travis did.

  “Travis,” Lexi cried, “what are you doing?”

  She could see he was shaking his head, like he had something stuck in his ear. He backed up and thrust the gun out more and stared at his sister and then at the other man he hadn’t recognized.

  “My Mahdi said that others would come and try and confuse me …” He shook his head again. “He said that anyone who doesn’t follow our way is an infidel, and it’s all right to kill them …”

  “Travis, for God’s sake, put the gun down. It’s me, Lexi. I may have been a bitch all these years, but that was the old me. I promise you I will be different. We will be different. We’ll look after each other. We’ll love each other, like we should have. Uncle Abdul screwed with your mind. But it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.”

  Travis lowered his arms, like the gun was too heavy to hold up. His eyes were cast down, his shoulders sank. He looked deflated.

  “I love you, brother. I’m so sorry I never said that, but it’s true. Come on what do you say?”

  Travis looked up, looking like he had accepted what she had said. But then his eyes went wild.

  He lifted the gun and fired twice.

  Chapter 38

  Going Home

  The trip was pretty quiet.

  Frank seemed to be able to drive without any problem, even though he had been shot in the shoulder, sustained at least one broken rib and a sprained wrist, most of his back was bruised and angry, and his right knee and all the nerves connected to it were screaming a constant chorus of pain. All could be easily ignored in the celebration of victory. And even though he longed for a bed and probably two days’ sleep, he drove.

  He glanced over to Lexi, who was staring out the windows, searching for something. She scrutinized each sign, dead car, or worse, dead body—they had seen a few of those. Travis slept in the back seat, his head back, mouth opened, as if he were unconsciously waiting for rain to fall from the heavens. He looked at peace, which was a good thing.

  He really thought they had both been shot when Travis fired the revolver at them. Turned out Yusuf was coming up behind them, and the boy took him out, before dropping the gun and running to his sister’s embrace. Lexi said they’d been through a lot and that she would tell Frank everything soon enough. When he asked if Travis would be okay, she didn’t hesitate to say “Yep.”

  He guessed they’d all be okay now.

  The Army took Farook’s base, killing most of the jihadists, while only losing two of their own. A few of Farook’s men got away, but Lexi got Faroook. She stabbed the bastard and watched him drown. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride in his goddaughter.

  He was also excited to find that both Wallace and Porter were safe. Each had tall tales about their close calls, but they had made it. Wallace was offered a choice to join the detachment from Camp Shelby or to accompany Porter to Stowell and help the town prepare for the potential invasion. She and Porter left together, while Frank drove Lexi and Travis to Florida and their new home. He decided to take on his godfather duties full time.

  Frank looked down the highway that used to bustle with cars, but now they were the only ones moving. Dead cars were everywhere, and so were the bodies. Corpses alongside the road or inside their cars were a more common sight here than in the Middle East.

  He wasn’t sure where they were going, but Lexi swore that she knew where it was. Based on what she told him, from the map she had committed to memory, the trip shouldn’t be too long now.

  “STOP!” Lexi hollered and Frank reflexively stomped on the truck’s brakes, bringing them to a screeching halt.

  Frank first examined what was in front of him, sure that he was about to hit an animal—or a person, and just didn’t see it, but there was no movement in front of him. He shot a look via the rearview mirror and saw nothing behind them, either. Travis bolted up from the floor, apparently having rolled off the seat, wide-eyed and panicked. Finally, he glared at Lexi, wondering what possessed her to startle all of them so badly. She was breathing heavily, her gaze fixed on something on the side of the road.

  Frank quickly turned his gaze in the same direction, but still didn’t see anything.

  “What do you see?”

  She pointed. Her mouth opened, but it was like she couldn’t form t
he words. “It’s … It’s our … my father’s car.”

  All stared at the Plymouth Duster with the busted windshield, gathering dust about fifty feet in front of them.

  The truck’s door creaked open and Lexi slid outside, feeling drawn to the Plymouth.

  Frank turned off the ignition and quickly stepped out and over to her, already in the middle of the eastbound lane. “Lexi, are you sure you want to see this?” he said, standing in front of her. She had told him what happened, and he didn’t think his friend, their father, would look very good after a few days in the Florida sunshine and heat.

  She just stared past him at the Plymouth, as if it were speaking to her and her alone.

  The sound of the crew-cab’s rear door opening and closing drew Frank’s gaze. Travis, too, seemed to be listening to the silent call of the Plymouth. He started marching toward the car.

  “All right.” Frank grabbed Lexi’s hand, and then offered his other to Travis. “We do this together.” Travis took hold and squeezed his godfather’s hand.

  “Now, your father is not going to look too good. He’s probably swollen up because he’s been in there almost four days.”

  “We know, but we have to see him,” Lexi said, still fixed on the car, as they slowly proceeded in the Plymouth’s direction. “Besides, there’s something I need to do.”

  They drew to a stop at the same place Lexi and Travis had found themselves when they had fallen out of the back seat. Like then, she was unable to move forward.

  “Would you like me to go first?” Frank asked Lexi and Travis, who were behind him.

  Both heads nodded.

  Frank had seen plenty of dead, having brought many people to that state of being more times than he cared to count, even if he could. But it was different when it was someone who you cared about. And Stan was his best friend, as well as Lexi and Travis’s father. Worse, he couldn’t imagine what they were about to experience. So, seeing his friend like this was harder than even he imagined. Stan’s skin was almost black and very bloated. His eyes bulged and looked ready to burst. His tongue was the size of a brown balloon filled with water. And of course there was the smell.