By the end of it, Harper’s body was aching from head to toe and McCulloch’s jaw hung slightly ajar.
“My lord. Trampled and being shot at all in the same day? You’ve been busy, Sergeant.”
Harper nodded, feeling awkwardly proud. “It’s not over yet.” She winced. Now that she’d stopped moving, the pain had caught up with her. “What can you tell me about your end?”
McCulloch adjusted his posture. “We’re fighting against the clock. Intel came in from Lieutenant Grant that the enemy--identity still unknown--has a strong grip on certain corridors of the city. Shooting into crowds of people, causing house fires. You name it, they’re doing it. Some of them are more subtle beasts, stirring up the populace against local authorities. Moreover, it’s believed they’ve been hitting our guys, snagging their equipment and vehicles.”
“Jesus. Do we know their endgame?”
McCulloch grunted. “I have multiple sources looking into it. So far, we’re in the dark.”
“What can I do?”
A knock rattled the door. A commanding officer peered inside, urgency on his face. “Sir, an envoy from the National Guard has arrived.” His look turned sober. “He’s requested you by name.”
“Thank you.” The commander lifted himself from his seat. “Sergeant, get yourself looked at. I’ll be by shortly.”
“Yes, sir,” Harper replied and left the room. The reporting CO closed the door to the office. In the busy hallway, Harper rested her back against the wall. She clenched her eyes to snuff the pain-induced tears. The nostrils of her sharp nose flared as she forced every step. Spikes of pain shot up her legs as her boots met the concrete. She could feel herself collapsing and sent her weight to a cool wall, balancing herself.
A few worried privates exchanged looks and headed her way. Harper waved them off. She forced herself to move until she felt ill from agony. Clenching her lower rib, she pushed open the infirmary door. Like the rest of the dark base, the room was devoid of light apart from the artificial kind that rested on a table. The room was intended for those injured during PT, so there were only half a dozen cots, which ran in an L shape across the back and side wall. A uniformed man was finishing up Eli’s arm cast. By her son’s funny look, Harper could tell that the pain medications had kicked in. She rested herself in the doorframe, catching her breath.
“Harper?” James jolted from his bed, shocking another medic, and limped to his wife. He took her hand and led her to the nearest bed. Delicately, she sat and twisted her legs onto the mattress.
“I’ll make sure they look at you next,” James said and returned to his cot.
Time inched by as they examined Harper. Without an x-ray, there was no telling if her rib was broken, fractured, or just bruised. They guessed the latter mainly because Harper had pushed on this far. She gave credit to adrenaline. They offered some powerful pain pills, but Harper only took one. She needed to stay alert for whatever McCulloch had in store for her. James had new stitches and a bandage around his leg. Eli was fitted for an arm cast and proper sling. With the heat, Harper was reluctant to put on her ACU jacket, but she slipped it on.
“It feels good to rest,” James said, eyes to the ceiling and hands between his pillow and his head.
“Uh-huh.” Harper closed her eyes. The medication hit harder than she had expected, and her body felt weightless.
“Are we ever going to go back home?” Eli asked bluntly.
“Right now, our goal should be getting out of the city.” James rolled to his side. Harper could feel his eyes on her.
“Sounds like it’s going to be a pretty shitty vacation.”
“Language,” James retorted.
“I’m sixteen.”
“Rest up while you can. The night’s still young.” Harper pulled up her covers. It felt good to free her toes from her boots and to have a nice pillow behind her neck. She felt her reality slipping away. Sleep beckoned her, and she welcomed it. All she needed was a moment.
A door opened with a creak. She heard the clamor of boots clacking from the halls from wall to wall.
“Sergeant Murphy,” her commander called.
Harper’s eyes shot open before she could dream. Time to repay her debt. No rest for the wicked.
Chapter Eight
Homebound
Dressed in gray urban camo and with his hands folded neatly behind his back, the tall man led Harper, McCulloch, and Riverdale’s Commander Sheen through the packed halls. The soldiers of the reserve center were a machine that curved around them in a chaotic fashion but always seemed to leave an opening for the commanding officers and Harper. Dozens of soldiers separated into squads of twelve, while others marched out the front door. Lieutenants and other commanding officers shouted orders and kept the troops moving at a pace of what seemed like 180 miles per hour. The man led Harper and the others in the opposite direction.
A couple of anxious privates escaped from the armory and darted past them. Metal shell casing caught lantern light as the two boys reconfigured the hefty bandoliers on their shoulders. From the opposite side of the hall, other soldiers fetched backpacks while a man jotted notes on a pad.
They eventually reached the back door, evident by the rays of sunlight illuminating the frame. An armed private opened it for them, and they cut into the falling sun.
Fenced in, the back of the reserve center was more of a parking lot and less of a yard. There were multiple Humvees and other armored vehicles parked along the side and an external building a little off-center from the middle. In squads of four, soldiers loaded vehicles with medical supplies and bullet belts. One stayed in the gunner station, while another fed him bulky rounds.
The man led Harper and the other two to a wall-less tent tacked to the ground. A few plastic crates and boxes rested in the middle, creating a table for the city map and water bottles. McCulloch ordered the private standing by the tent to clear out and placed his lantern on the map’s corner. It wasn’t necessary but helped with the lighting. Sunset would be upon them soon. Chest puffed, and strutting like a proud eagle, the man stopped in front of the map. His tall and muscular figure did well at blocking the sun from the others around him.
“Sergeant Murphy, this is our envoy from the Guard, Major Taft,” McCulloch introduced them. Before Harper could respond, Taft beat her to the punch.
“A pleasure,” he said. “Now let’s get down to business.”
The major slid his finger on the map, tapping on multiple choke points in the city’s border. “The Guard is in the process of forming blockades around the borders of DC. However, with more riots breaking out all around the White House, Congress, and the Pentagon, we’ve had to stretch our men thin. To make matters worse, an unknown number of insurgents have been attacking our supply convoys, making it nearly impossible to keep our barricades functional.” He turned to Harper and the other commanders. “Here is where you come in. Get the bulk of your men barricading while others start running supply. Once the city is quarantined, together we’ll be able to trap the enemy and exterminate the threat.”
“Even with our combined forces,” Commander Sheen said in this thick Southern accent. “We won’t have enough men.”
“I know. We’ve got to work with what we got.”
McCulloch pointed on the western side of the map. “I’ll have soldiers en route to the south and west. The north and east are already secure.”
“Wish I could say that about all of them,” Taft replied. “We’ve been having serious problems on the western flank. With civilians piling up and insurgents using guerilla tactics against us, we’re going through a lot of supplies. Francis Scott Key Bridge is our main line of defense from keeping those bastards from getting in and out of the city.”
“I’ll go there,” Harper said bluntly. “If you have a Humvee for me, I can drop supplies.”
The COs exchanged looks.
“A single transport is more dangerous than a convoy but also quicker…” Sheen said, thinking.
&
nbsp; “If Sergeant Murphy says she can do it, we should let her,” McCulloch told the others.
Harper met their eyes. “I can.”
“Quite a sergeant you got there, Commander,” Major Taft stated. “Let’s get started.”
Taft and Sheen split up. The commander called his men to attention, and Taft returned inside.
The soft breeze and golden sunset didn’t sooth Harper’s nerves. She eyed the remaining few Humvees parked a few dozen yards from her. The massive machine guns on top pointed to the cloudy sky. Distant towers of smoke ruined the scene.
“Sergeant,” McCulloch said as he joined her in gazing out. “You do this, and I’d say we’re even.”
Harper clenched her aching rib. “Thank you, sir. For everything.”
A smile crept up McCulloch’s hardened face. “Now, get your family loaded up, and move out. That’s an order, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir.”
Harper found Eli and James still in bed. The small room had an eerie dark to it. Lights cast odd shadows, and heat lingered in the still air. Swiftly, she approached her son. Brown hair creating a sun on his pillow, Eli slept soundly. Harper scooted down next to him. She brushed a bang from his nose. The lids of his brown eyes opened slowly. “Mom?” Using a knuckle, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Come on,” she whispered.
Eli yawned and stretched out his arms. He quickly grunted, remembering the cast around his broken arm. He frowned as he looked about the dark room.
James awoke with a loud yawn. “Time to go?”
Harper nodded. She quickly filled them in on the plan. James looked at her as if she were crazy. Eli’s expression wasn’t much better.
“You want to get out of the city, this is your ticket.”
“But what about you?” James stood from his bed and slid on his torn jeans.
“Let’s worry about getting to the bridge first, then we can figure out the rest.”
Determination blazed in James’s brown eyes. “I won’t let them drag you back into this city. I’m not going to lose you again.”
Harper rubbed her hand over her short auburn hair. “We don’t have time for this, James. Eli, get up. The longer we sit around, the worse DC gets.”
Reluctantly, they complied, and Harper led them out the door. She wished Eli had more time to rest, but there’d be no more stops from here on out. As they jogged through the halls, Harper’s muscles ached. She thought more about the pain pills but was quickly reminded of the floating feeling that had already taken effect. Take it easy. You need to be alert. She questioned how alert the others were. James would be fine. Eli, though…
Leading a small squadron, Corporal Bennett sprinted past her. Fatigue soiled his expression, but he still mustered a slight smile. Harper couldn’t help but feel proud of him. She had thrust a heavy responsibility upon the young corporal, and he had completed it with urgency and professionalism. As he left her view, regret bubbled in Harper’s being.
The Murphys jogged past the stripped armory, cut through the emptied cafeteria, and exited out the back.
The dropping sun cast gold rays across the cloudy sky. Old black stains marked where the bulk of the vehicles once parked. More peeled out the side of the building. They’re really moving. A squad of six loaded bags of weapons and medical equipment into the back of one of the remaining Humvees. Two ammo-toting privates burst into the parking lot and rushed to their allies. Peeking his waist out of the gunner station’s roof, a man twisted the large machine gun, double-checking its rotation axis. He banged on the roof. “Send it up!”
The others nodded and fed the large belts of ammo inside the attachable ammo box.
Private Walker crawled out. “McCulloch says that this one’s yours. I’ll be manning the gun.”
“Thank you, Private.” Harper smiled at him. He wasn’t always the most competent in Supply, but he was a hell of a good shot at the range.
She popped into the driver’s seat, while James claimed shotgun. Eli and Walker scooted into the back.
Harper twisted the ignition switch to run then swiftly to start. With a roar, the massive vehicle came to life.
Her thumb pressed the button on the transmission lever and thrust it into drive. Her boot hit the gas. The all-terrain wheels spun violently, and the vehicle swerved out of the lot. The lines of wounded civilians watched in awe as she left the Riverdale Reserve Center behind. In the rearview mirror, Corporal Heidecker gave her a final salute.
Chapter Nine
Bridge
Thick tires bit the road. Gravel crunched, swarmed violently in a wheel well, and slingshotted into the sunset.
Harper gritted her teeth. The swollen sticks that were her fingers coiled around the rough steering wheel. Her knuckles went milky white; her groomed nails were swollen, purple, and loose. Everything from the meat on her palms to her shoulders, down her back, and to her calves ached from bruises and cuts gifted by the undiscriminating boots, heels, and sneakers that had stampeded over her hours ago. The pain pill was dying.
Harper yanked the steering wheel to the left. The mass of people lining the street divided, cursed, and scurried to the boundaries of the crowded street.
The hurt turned her eyes wet. “Pills,” she grunted to James with her hand out. A crushed sedan and smoking pickup dammed her path. The all-purpose military vehicle wrenched to the right, causing Harper’s insides to move. The Humvee bulleted down a side street littered with cans, trash, and car parts. Buildings blurred into shades of brown, green, and yellow. Furious winds funneled through the passenger window and down the gunner station, birthing a vortex of screaming air in the cockpit of the Humvee.
Palms desperately cupping the armrests, James screamed at his wife, “I don’t have any!”
Harper’s arms quaked with two parts pain and one part frustration. A loud crack, and out the rear window a broken bumper bounced across the concrete. Harper didn’t care. It wasn’t hers.
“Pass these up,” Eli shouted. Two brown circles were cradled in the soft dip of his hand. Harper glanced in the rearview. The tunnel of wind turned her son’s thick mop of hair into a frenzy of fur with bangs that swept against his youthful eyes and triangular nose.
James seized the Advil and, using dirty thumbnails, fed them gingerly to Harper. Dry, she gulped it down. It would take a moment to kick in, she knew, but it didn’t make it easier. Her foot slammed the gas pedal.
Speeding through the suburban street that was Wells Parkway, Harper braced herself for the harsh turn into the Adelphi Road four-lane. Common sense said sticking to the side streets would be much more navigational, especially in the tank-like vehicle she piloted. However, the clock ticked, and the crowd outside of the reserve center steered her to the north.
The Humvee’s wheels skidded around the bend, almost sending the vehicle’s driver’s-side door scraping against a dead car. Harper’s foot hit the brakes, making her, Eli, and James lurch forward. The Humvee grumbled but stopped. Ahead, two military-issue vehicles, a gaggle of soldiers, and a solid line of barricade obstructed the road. The highway was a field’s length behind them.
“Looks like they’re secure, Sergeant,” Private Walker shouted from the gunner station.
Harper switched the lever to reverse. She bounced as the Humvee bumped up a curb and redirected southbound.
As she pressed farther into the city, more cars obstructed her path. On foot, she struggled to skid around the obstructions. In a two-and-a-half-ton brick with sixteen-inch ground clearance, she found herself riding up curbs, smashing mailboxes, and obliterating shrubbery to pave her way to Highway 410. The second soldier-guarded barricade left her sight as quickly as it entered. No use wasting time on dead ends. She jogged her memory of city evacuation and quarantine detail. Her head ached as she came to the conclusion that any northern way, either east or west, would be blocked. Not because of heavy traffic, but because it was easier to secure than the inner city.
Batter
ing the noses of three cars that had collided during the initial EMP blast, Harper opened the vehicle-forged gate and plowed through Route 500, changing lanes frequently. The pills had taken effect, and Harper felt crazy good. Her vision tunneled as she chaotically dodged every obstacle laid out before her. It was her and the never-ending cluttered road. She was the machine that roared across concrete. One that broke the bodies of lesser human-made creations clogging her path.
A muffled voice pestered her. She rammed through a Change Oil Here sign. Shattered plastic and a metal backboard bounced up the windshield, thudded over the roof, and vanished in her dusty wake. She cracked a grin.
“Harper!” James’s voice yanked her from the zone. The whites of her green eyes burst with life as she noticed a mass of hooded vandals stripping sports cars in the middle of a small bridge. Within a second, Harper found her focus and whipped around them, tires screeching. A man swung a tire iron as Harper went, hitting the Hummer’s door with a loud thunk.
“Sergeant,” Walker yelled to her. “Should we do something about them?”
“No time!”
The Humvee ramped off a pile of garbage. It rode the air for a moment before bouncing to the concrete with springing shocks. The vehicle fishtailed, kicked up dust, and shot into the urban sprawl of DC.
“Where’d you learn to drive?” James shouted with terror.
“I don’t care,” shouted Eli louder. “Mom’s freaking awesome!”
Harper kept her eyes on the road, a small smile creeping on her face. Then, she saw.
“What happened?” James asked, positioning himself to get a better view.
In the distance, thick billows of smoke and quick flashes of flame rose from the city skyline. With tongues of orange, yellow, and black, her home blazed around her. Harper struggled with the words. “There must’ve been more bombs.”
Tragedy silenced them. Though the noise of the Humvee muted the outside sound, it was disturbingly easy to imagine the desperate cries that billowed into the air.
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