Yield

by Johnson, Bryan K.

  The weapon bucks into Jonathon’s chest and drifts upward, shooting bullets in an arcing path. They hit the second gunman in the stomach and throat before the glowing knives travel up into the ceiling.

  The third soldier leaps to the side. He returns fire at the intimidating black man scrambling away along the ground.

  Bullets slice through Jonathon’s lower back and shoulder right as he stands. The burning flash seems to tear across his entire body. His legs buckle, the strength to move them suddenly eaten away.

  Jonathon collapses to the ground. His navy blue eyes darken.

  He blinks over at the rear door of the sat truck rolling upward. “Neal…” Jonathon tries to shout. The blurring haze in his eyes makes it so hard to focus.

  KOMO’s photographer kneels beside his XDCam in the back of the sat truck. Neal’s shaking hands are up above his head. “Journalist!” he shouts. “I’m a journalist. We’re unarmed!”

  The North Korean’s eyes narrow, looking from the camera lens up to the trembling man. He hesitates for only a moment.

  The weapon lets loose from the soldier’s grip, firing over and over again. Blasts of light cut across the Korean’s emotionless brow. They flicker violently in his eyes.

  Neal recoils and tumbles over onto the twisted limbs of his friends.

  After the weapon’s sentences are complete, the soldier turns and leaves without a sound, checking neither his fellow servicemen nor the enemy bodies that lay bleeding inside the garage. He simply stalks down the curving walkway and out into the black.

  The soldier slams another clip into his machine gun, readying it again to fulfill its fatal purpose.

  Silence fills the parking structure. The dim starlight weakens under the cloak of new clouds. Rain begins to fall, the tears splashing gently onto the hood of the sat truck.

  The sound grows and calms Jonathon even as he lies dying on the asphalt. Fog spreads across his eyes. His lids grow heavier with every forced blink.

  “Jonathon,” a voice whispers in the distance. He turns toward it but sees only frayed darkness.

  “Jon!” it says more intently.

  The black man opens his eyes again, slowly bringing them into focus. “I’m here…” Jonathon gasps. He soon sees stubble-filled shadows lining both sides of a young face.

  Dave leans over him, pushing on the wounds to slow his bleeding.

  Jonathon fights back the weariness in his eyes, trying to smile up at the engineer. Even as he struggles to stay awake, Jon drifts off again to the sounds of rainfall echoing and fading all around.

  Chapter 44

  A new sun rises over the waking refugee camp. Emerald tents flap quickly in the brisk morning wind, the sounds of nylon and polyester snapping into a low roar. Bodies grudgingly move. Their sleep-filled eyes dart around, confused and unfamiliar with what they see. Fresh depression spreads like the morning dew when they grasp the changed reality that surrounds them.

  Most rise to find the first warm breakfast they’ve had for several days. Others search for information or ways to get word to their families. They join many more already standing in the lengthening lines.

  Chris’s mouth drops open into a huge yawn. He could have used at least a couple more hours of sleep, especially after last night. But instead, he walks diligently beside Terra towards the information booth.

  He puts his right arm securely over her shoulders, creating a protective barrier around Terra and the newborn baby in her arms. His mind races with uncertainty every time he looks down at the little girl. She fills him with a storm of doubt and responsibility he’s never felt before.

  Gently, Chris pulls the blanket up around the sides of the child’s face to block the wind. His hand grazes one of her soft cheeks. The baby’s deep chocolate eyes open.

  Chris gasps.

  They look exactly like Isabel’s. Flecks of light brown color a darkened earth. The similarity catches in his throat. Chris blinks several times before looking away.

  He coughs, trying to force it all down again—trying to forget the sharp ache of loss that still cuts through him with ease.

  The bustle of activity is everywhere. It looks more like a Saturday street market than a camp in the aftermath of disaster. People pulse and move, teeming towards their destinations with renewed purpose.

  Soldiers walk in pairs within the pack. Their weapons are angled downward, but their outstretched fingers rest beside triggers just in case. Fear is etched into their young eyes. Frequently, they glance overhead. There is no blue left in the overcast sky; only varying shades of gray drift on.

  Chris rubs at the leather sleeves of his letterman jacket still draped around Terra’s body. “You sure you guys are warm enough?” Lines cut across Chris’s forehead as he looks at them, the wrinkles more protective than normal.

  The thick jacket is pulled all the way up to Terra’s neck. With the coat snapped closed, Terra’s head protrudes from it like a turtle from a shell. “Oh yeah,” the teenager’s soft voice whispers. “Just like wearing a sleeping bag.” She nudges playfully into him, scooting closer to block the wind.

  “Hey now,” Chris smiles. He leans down and kisses the top of her head without even thinking.

  She looks over in surprise. Her sapphire eyes light up before darting down again.

  “I’ve got a lot of memories in that thing,” Chris says. “We’ve won tournaments. Survived high school. Even made it through a few break-ups together.”

  Terra’s eyes narrow. “A few, huh?”

  Mid-defense, Chris’s feet suddenly stop. The basketball star turns toward an unmistakable accent at the front of the information line.

  Devin’s voice gets louder and louder as he argues with the unfortunate public information officer. Jacob is standing next to him, Sierra clutched in his arms. “I don’t give a blooming shite about your procedure, mate. I am getting to Portland,” Devin insists. He leans over the table, his hands clenching. The canvas munitions bag still hangs from his shoulder. “There’s got to be something going south.”

  “They’re for military personnel only, sir.”

  “I am military, son,” Jacob growls. “Brigadier General, Army Airborne. This man needs transport out of the hot zone. I suggest you find a way to make that happen.”

  “I’m sorry, General,” the soldier says. He squirms under Jacob’s fierce blue eyes. “But everything’s been committed to the combat area.”

  “Unacceptable,” Jacob barks. “Who’s your C.O.?”

  “C.O.?” the soldier stalls.

  “Your commanding officer, son! What the hell did they teach you at boot? What is your C.O.’s name?”

  “My C.O.’s missing in action, General,” the information officer whispers.

  “What?”

  “He went out on coastal recon with some brass last night. No one reported back.”

  “Bloody hell,” Devin says.

  “So, what’s your chain of command then?” Jacob asks.

  “I…” the acne-faced soldier stammers. “I don’t know yet, General. We’re all just following the same orders we had yesterday.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Jacob says. “This is wartime, son.”

  “Can I at least contact my family to let them know I’m alright?” Devin interrupts.

  “You can add your name to the list,” the soldier says. “There are only a few working phone lines right now.”

  Devin shakes his head. “So I can’t call them now? We’ve been waiting in this bloody line for over two hours!”

  “We have to relay the message for you,” the soldier hesitates, “for security purposes.”

  “Security purposes,” Devin scoffs. “Did freedom of speech die so quickly?”

  “Just policy, sir.”

  Devin looks back at the boy-soldier, realizing the unprepared info clerk is absolutely powerless to bend regulations. “Alright. My wife’s name is…”

  “Fill this out and bring it back,” the soldier interrupts. He hands t
he redhead several forms. “We should be able to get to yours in the next couple of days.”

  “Days?” Devin asks incredulously. “I realize my life isn’t exactly top priority for you, but 48 hours? Are you serious?” Devin’s green eyes burn. “There’s nothing more you can do?”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the soldier says. His eyes eagerly dart back to the other people in line. “Next!”

  “Thanks,” Devin growls. “You’ve been of tremendous help.”

  Devin mutters out a range of imbecilic names for the boy-soldier, storming angrily away.

  “I know,” Jacob says. “There are some major issues with what that kid just said. No C.O. or command structure? Christ! Why don’t we just hand over the stars and stripes to the bastards who bombed us?!”

  The fireman shakes his head, his face flushed with anger. Fragmented plans swirl through his mind. “Hey,” Devin says, glancing up in surprise. He almost walks right into Chris and Terra moving towards them from the crowd.

  “You okay?” Chris asks.

  “Other than the obvious?” Jacob grumbles. His steely blue eyes flicker back at the unhelpful soldier.

  Looking like he needs it, Sierra gives Chris a thumbs-up.

  The basketball star smiles. He follows Jacob’s gaze back to the information desk. “I take it they aren’t going south?”

  “Not with us, they’re not,” Devin says. “Best they can do is an automated phone call, rewritten and read sometime in the next blooming week by an absolute stranger.” He smiles. “Courtesy of the U.S. government.”

  “You’d think they had nothing better to worry about,” Jacob adds. A deeper than usual rumble in the general’s voice betrays his opinion of the camp’s leadership. Or lack thereof.

  His face quickly softens. “And who is this?” Jacob leans forward, pulling the blanket back from the newest member of their group. A beautiful newborn sleeps soundly against Terra’s chest.

  “She doesn’t have a name yet…” Chris’s thin smile fades. His voice grows quiet at the idea. He runs his fingers through the baby’s soft black hair. The answer suddenly seems so obvious. “But I was thinking she should be named after her mom. Baby Isabel.”

  “That’s a brilliant idea, mate,” the fireman says. He puts a comforting hand up to the basketball player’s shoulder.

  Devin’s eyes are still filled with a deep and draining regret. He looks down at the baby, but all he can think of is Isabel’s glowing smile and ferocious love—not just for her own flesh and blood, but for Chris, Terra, and even strangers fortunate enough to find a place within her fiery heart.

  It’s a love this baby will never be able to experience.

  The thought rips into Devin.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jacob says. His voice cuts to a whisper.

  Stiffly, the basketball player nods. He grits his teeth, trying to fight the pain down again. There’s a caged sort of grief on his face. His friends. Home. Everything he’s ever loved has been viciously taken from him.

  Chris’s teeth feel like they’re going to splinter and crack, but he clenches them even tighter to stop a far deeper hurt. “I don’t need all the sad looks and pity,” he says hoarsely. “We’ll be fine.”

  “It’s not pity,” Jacob says in his grandfatherly tone. “It’s the sorrow of someone who knows what it’s like to lose people.” The general squares his shoulders and stares hard into Chris’s eyes. He sees the same sadness he’s experienced all too often on the battlefield. “Nothing will make it better. Nothing can take it all away. All I can say is the pain lessens with time, Chris, and with the love of those still around you. Live for them now. They need you.”

  Finding some small measure of comfort in the words himself, Devin nods. He turns toward a welcoming breeze coming through the south-facing gates. Family photos hang from the picture board. Images of Katherine and the kids flash through his mind.

  The fireman looks back down at the papers in his hands. “Here,” he says, passing Chris the call request forms. “Running into flaming buildings never really inspired much patience in me. You and Terra can contact your families with these. I have to find a way back home to mine.”

  “I think you mean, ‘we,’ son,” Jacob says. He sets his granddaughter down, wrapping her small hand in his.

  “You’re leaving?” Terra whispers. Fear begins creeping back into her eyes.

  “As much as I’d like to, I can’t stay forever, love,” Devin says. The fireman leans closer, pointing discretely at Chris. “Besides, you’ve got this big ox here to fend off the world for you. You’ll be just fine. He’s got a bit of a mouth on him, but I’m sure you can keep that in check.”

  Terra tries to smile, tries to be strong—but her sapphire eyes mist up instead, like rain finding the jagged edges of a cracked window pane. Terra pulls closer to the towering body of her protector. She looks down at the new life sleeping in her arms. “What will we tell her?” Terra whispers. Her eyes drift over Baby Isabel’s face. “What kind of life will she have now?”

  The question quiets them all. The hopelessness and suffering of the world seem to darken the skies above.

  Devin looks out into the black storm clouds approaching in the distance. His blood runs cold, unsure now of things once so firmly carved into his soul. “I wish I could tell you everything will be alright, that the worst is over. But I don’t know, Terra,” he says, his voice without its usual sarcastic edge. “I don’t know why horrors like this ever come to pass. I used to believe in a God once. I used to go to church, even pray.” A hurricane of doubt flashes from his eyes. “My faith was shattered with our cities on Monday. I don’t know if either is coming back.”

  Terra leans closer to Chris’s reassuring arms. A glimmer of contentment embraces her, feeling their hearts beating together.

  The silence stretches.

  Growing uncomfortable with inevitability’s delay, Devin glances around. “Well, if you’re ready Jacob, I guess we better get…”

  Terra lunges forward and wraps an arm around him. “Thank you,” she whispers. Baby Isabel looks curiously up at the redheaded man. Wonder fills her small eyes.

  Slowly, Devin’s hands pull the young woman and child to him. “I don’t think I deserve much thanks,” he says, thinking back through the nightmares they’ve endured over their three short days together.

  “You acted when others didn’t,” the teenager says. She tries to hold back tears, looking up at her journey’s surrogate father. “You’re a hero to me.” Terra pulls him tight one last time before releasing the fireman. “Be careful,” she whispers. Terra wipes her sapphire eyes, looking sadly towards the gate.

  Chris firmly clasps his hand. A look of deep respect and admiration passes between them.

  “Keep them safe, mate,” Devin says. Pride beams from his face. Remorse stiffens his feet. The fireman knows he can’t stay, but the thought of leaving them now feels like he’s abandoning part of his own family.

  Chris stares confidently back into the fireman’s eyes. “I will.” His shoulders barely flinch at the responsibility. “Take care, D.”

  Chris uses the single letter nickname he’d always called his lifelong friend, without a moment’s pause or regret.

  Silently, Devin turns and looks out past the crowds to the long journey ahead. Jacob and Sierra give their own brief farewells before following. They leave the fleeting protection of the razor-wire gates, moving back out into the savage world beyond.

  Chapter 45

  Katherine storms through the front door and throws her keys onto the side table. The jingling crash of metal bounces back from the walls in the entryway. The keys ricochet off the scuffed pine, tumbling to the floor. Outside, the roar of military vehicles screams down the deserted street.

  “What’s wrong?” Haley asks. The teen jumps up from the love seat.

  “What isn’t?” Kat blurts. She strides past her daughter and into the comfort of her kitchen. Katherine’s hands latch onto the range’s stainless steel han
dle.

  Usually, the smell of fresh oregano and thyme from her herb garden makes her feel better. The sizzling sound of prosciutto on Sunday mornings, the sharp knocks of her knife against the cutting board… Her kitchen has always been her sanctuary. Now it only fills her stomach with fear.

  The blond housewife looks around, trying to think of something to fix her children for breakfast. She opens the pantry and cupboards. Dust and doubt fill them.

  Haley follows her in. She hesitantly peeks around the corner before entering her mom’s domain. The 15-year-old’s pink-streaked hair cranes back, spotting Tyler sitting up on the couch in the living room.

  Her brother’s eyes squint in concern. Haley holds her hands up, signaling for him to stay put.

  “Mom?” Haley asks. She lays a questioning hand on her mother’s slumped shoulders.

  Katherine looks over at her pale son, then back to the sparse cupboards. Her mind races. Please, Devin. Tell me what to do…

  Haley leans in front of her, trying to make eye contact with her increasingly distant mom. “Talk to me,” the teen presses. Her voice wavers, growing more and more worried at the look on her mother’s face. “I’m not a child anymore. You can tell me what’s going on.”

  Katherine stares down at the countertop, unable to meet her daughter’s eyes. “I’d been putting off shopping because of all the crowds and price-gouging,” she says quietly. “Now the stores are all closed. They’ve either run out of food or don’t have anyone left to work.”

  “What’re we gonna do?” Tyler asks, sneaking closer so he can hear the conversation.

  Katherine leans forward and rests her arms on the dark granite surface. The stone’s icy touch spreads up her elbows, freezing the solutions from her mind.

  There’s a broken uncertainty on her mother’s face that scares Haley to the core. Her mom has always been everything to them. With Dad gone for days at a time, her mom had to take on everything else. Cook. Maid. Teacher. Friend.

  Now her mother just stands there, silent, drained of both answers and strength.