by Logan Keys
“Let’s do it,” Greg said.
They all turned to face Luckman. “Tell him,” Terry said. “Tell him to try.”
“Then it’s settled. We do this.”
“Do or die. Maybe do and die,” German said, and everyone gave him a glare for saying it.
German and Luckman made their way to the front of the plane. They went inside the cockpit where the pilot was grinning ear-to-ear and jabbering over the gadgets like a kid at Christmas.
“Ask him if he can really do this,” Luckman said, pinching the bridge of his nose, praying his bowels wouldn’t go loose just thinking about taking off with this loon at the wheel.
The two spoke rapidly in Russian. It nearly always sounded like an argument to Luckman, and maybe it was.
“He says it’s like any other plane,” German said with a dry glance. “He says anyone can fly it.”
“Lord.”
German nodded. “What do you think, Lucky?”
“I think we are damned if we do or don’t. And we’re damned if we land somewhere anyway with the cold on the move. So…we fight. We go. We fly.”
German grinned and grabbed Luckman’s shoulder. “The more you talk the more I like you. You would have been a great war general.”
“Yeeha. So brave.”
“Brave? Most were probably pissin’ themselves, but they tried, they fought. They flew.”
“Flew!” The pilot jabbered in mimic, and Luckman breathed loudly through his nose. “Fly,” the pilot said with emphasis.
“Yes. Fly.” Luckman was about to roll his eyes when the pilot pointed.
Luckman glanced where the pilot was pointing, and his mouth dropped open.
German spoke in Russian and Luckman nodded because he understood perfectly. “Dear God,” he said. And it was probably as close to what German had said as he could get.
The tsunami was there.
**
Even just taxiing out onto the runway the plane swerved drunkenly, and the brakes pumped, jolting everyone in their seats. “Better buckle up,” German said and Luckman about lost the turkey still trying to digest in his stomach.
The wave was the size of a skyscraper. It was far out in the ocean still but moving at an incredible speed. Greg had his face pressed to the window on his side and was giving them the lowdown, blow-by-blow.
“It’s going to hit the harbor any minute. It’s seconds away. All those poor people,” he said.
Terry did the sign of the cross and began to pray, while Luckman broke out into a cold sweat as the plane picked up speed. They would be taking off into the unknown, but if they stayed? The cold could bring them down. It had even gone so far as to send a massive wave ahead of itself to crush them all.
They could make it, he thought. Or they could crash upon landing. Or, especially, the pilot could be clueless to fly the private jet because he’d probably only done little puddle jumpers before this and they’d never even get off the ground.
“How many hours again?” Luckman asked, fighting the urge to be sick as the plane hit the last turn and started towards the strip to take off. He was trying to fill the air with conversation as Terry prayed louder and Greg commented about them having seconds to live.
“Eighteen,” Danielle said. She was pale and gripping the armrests.
German laughed a dry sound. “Shorter if we…you know.” He whistled and made his hand fly around before dropping into his thigh with an explosive noise.
“This thing goes eighteen hours?” Holtz asked nervously. It was the first time he’d spoken since German hit him, but he seemed like he wasn’t going to make trouble again. Probably hungover though.
Terry nodded. “It can do any long flight. It’s our biggest jet.”
Luckman glanced around. They could fit fifty people on board, at least. But no one else would be saved and he felt guilty for that fact. Then again, they wouldn’t be responsible for anyone else if the plane went down.
The plane’s engines revved to life, gearing up for takeoff. Luckman squeezed his eyes tight as the wheels gained speed. Wind also picked up blowing into the side as the jet bumped forward. Everyone was quiet.
Luckman focused on the powerful engineering that created the metal birds. He focused on the fact that he knew they tested planes with such intense wind that the wings nearly touched together at the top they were so bent. They were a marvel really. Proof that humans were capable of anything. Including outliving the Killing Cold.
And one crazy pilot.
“It’s here,” Greg said, and everyone spun around to look out the windows on that side.
“It’s huge,” Terry whispered.
“It’s going to wipe out everything,” Danielle said.
Luckman could see the wall of white water through the small window Greg was pressed up against across from him. It was so large that he couldn’t see the top. They were flying down the runway now, and the light feeling of liftoff began. It was nearly seamless when the wheels left the runway, and there was that quick thud of hitting a pocket of air the first time.
They climbed into the air and it almost appeared like everything would be perfect until turbulence shook the plane in a fast jerk, and everyone screamed as it dropped tens of feet at once to slam against the bottom of a hot air pocket that had wrapped around the cold.
It settled momentarily, and Luckman pried his hands off his bunched-up sweats. He wiped them dry as the plane climbed in altitude.
Greg shouted, “Everyone, look!”
German unbuckled and moved to that side of the plane. “Lucky. Come over here and see this.”
“I’m good.”
Luckman didn’t want to unbuckle but everyone was gasping and making noise so the curiosity mingled with fear got the better of him. He unclipped and carefully slid across the aisle to find a seat. He buckled again before he glanced out of the window.
“Those poor people,” Danielle cried.
Luckman saw the wave had struck the harbor and plowed onward toward the city. The airport was seconds away from being engulfed, and they were just low enough that it seemed the wave could reach up and grab them just barely. Everything was swallowed by white. It was something that couldn’t be explained unless a person saw it for themselves.
The plane dipped, then banked hard left. A strong wind caught one of the wings, maybe from the wave pushing air up into the atmosphere, and the entire wing on their right was above them now. Everything shook hard like they were on a bumpy freeway. Metal rattled, and luggage came loose of the overhead bins. Luckman shouted as the wing on the right went higher, making them almost horizontal.
The bathroom door slammed open and everyone was dangling by their seatbelts. “What are you doing!” German shouted up at the pilot.
But the door up front had swung closed on the muffled reply from the cockpit.
From this angle, it was as if they were dangling above the wave. The plane chose that moment to drop in altitude once again and they slammed into another pocket of turbulence, the air streams of heat rising too swiftly into the Killing Cold’s wake. They started to fall.
“Oh, God!” Holtz cried.
“Ah!” Terry and her sisters began to scream, and Luckman shouted too, as if that would help.
They would hit the wave before they hit the ground.
Chapter Six
New York City, New York
Jensen and his twenty people were the first to arrive. Dana had brought them over in the passenger van, and then she helped Bob start bringing over Carry and the others. Dana had promised to stick with Bob and see to Carry’s sickness before they moved her, which made Michelle feel like all of the evil she’d endured was worth it. To see the look of relief on his face, that she’d brought some aid to his family, was a boon in the madness.
If she could bring Bob even a little bit of goodness in this dark, Michelle would. She realized that she cared for him deeply on a level she wasn’t aware that someone could have for non-family. It wasn’t attraction
either. It wasn’t like that at all. A love purely for the sake of it. Unselfish. And she felt his love for her too, like a daughter almost. It brought hope into her life she hadn’t even known she was missing. And God forgive anyone who hurt Bob or Carry. Not while Michelle was around. She’d found a love like that, one that was born of sacrifice, tying it closely to fierce protectiveness.
Jensen came into the bowling alley and strode straight over to Michelle. He surveyed his people all gathering around the heater with awe. Cameron would be building more of the stoves, and the scientist and Bob had already spoken about the supplies needed to further insulate the bowling alley. For now, it was much warmer than that commercial building Jensen’s group had been in and she could tell he was tremendously grateful.
“Michelle,” he said. “I can’t thank you enough.” He grabbed her into a hug. “Truly.”
She laughed as he lifted her up and squeezed her extra hard. Michelle put her hands on his shoulders as he put her back down. “You were the one who let me use the van. You trusted me. And Dana has been so wonderful. I don’t know what I would have done without your help.” She bit back the question hanging between them. What had he done with Jefferey? The man who’d attacked her. Twice.
Last she saw of the bastard, Jensen had been in the rear-view mirror with a bat in his hand. Had Jensen killed him?
Michelle swallowed and glanced away. Everyone was doing things they didn’t want to to survive. “We’re going to need a plan for security,” Michelle said. “I know Bob wants to handle everything himself. But—”
“Of course,” Jensen replied. “I’ll help. Make myself useful. Anything you need. Just ask.” He grinned, and she let go of the dark thoughts. He was a kind man. A sweet man. Michelle trusted him almost as much as she trusted Bob.
“I didn’t know if you were going to try to leave,” she said. “Try to make it down south. Dana had said you all might.”
He nodded. “That was the plan. But, for now, let’s get our bearings, and see what comes of it. God brought you to me, didn’t he? Let’s wait to see what else he can bring out of this terrible mess.”
Michelle smiled as Jensen squeezed her hand. “Agreed.”
**
Carry arrived, and Michelle was overwhelmed with emotions. They held on to each other until Carry’s energy waned. The woman looked so frail that Michelle was afraid to let her go. Dana never left Carry’s side from the moment they pulled up, and her dark eyes said more than her words. Carry was in bad shape.
Together, Dana and Michelle set up a bed for Carry near one of the lanes off to the side.
“The Baby needs breathing treatments right away,” Dana said, and Michelle nodded and went over to talk to the Garcias. She tried to explain, and they seemed to understand.
The mother and father brought the baby over to Dana. Cameron helped them set up the breathing machine with an outlet that was connected to his generator.
Michelle sat next to Carry since she could no longer be of any use for the Garcias.
Carry gripped her hand weakly. “We thought you were a goner,” she wheezed. A tear budded in the corner of one eye, but she wiped it away almost before Michelle noticed. Like Michelle, Carry didn’t want anyone to see her weak moments. “How on earth did you get this medicine? And how did you find Dana? She’s wonder woman.”
“Jensen said it was God, so I’ll go with his answer,” Michelle said with a soft laugh. “I’m not really sure how I didn’t wind up a goner.”
“Well, then my prayers were answered.” Carry leaned her head back, her labored breathing making Michelle’s stomach tighten.
“I’m going to let you get some rest,” Michelle said shakily, but Carry didn’t answer. She was already asleep. The move had exhausted her.
Michelle watched the woman sleeping, feeling for all of the world as helpless as she’d ever felt. Was she too late? Had she been too slow to get the medicine for Carry.
“Michelle,” Bob called quietly, glancing worriedly at his wife before he beckoned Michelle to where he was standing.
Michelle rose and left Carry’s side. She and Bob made their way to the other side of the bowling alley. “What is it?”
“It’s Mrs. Haverstick. And Mr. Chung.”
“Oh no. Are they sick?” Michelle glanced around just now realizing they had not arrived.
“She is.” Bob rubbed his face with a grim expression. “Would you…can you come back to the house with me?”
Michelle cocked her head in question but when he didn’t answer, she said, “Sure. Of course.”
Michelle put on her snow gear and she was surprised to find that Bob wanted to go alone. He was outside by the truck and it was just him. “I’ve asked Donny to come over when he finishes up.” Bob got inside of his truck. “I thought maybe…well, you’ll see when we get there.”
Michelle nodded and got into the passenger seat.
Once inside, she pulled on her seatbelt and fought the urge to panic. She didn’t want to worry Bob, but she was afraid to be on the road after the cop car incident. Michelle tried not to think about it which only lead to her thinking about it non-stop.
Bob was also deep in thought as he quietly maneuvered the frozen streets. “We won’t be able to drive much longer,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “I think this is the last day the truck will make it across the bridge. I haven’t seen a plow and these ruts will freeze tonight. Glad we made this move when we did.”
Michelle saw that the streets were indeed worse. And they would only get icier every day without being plowed. When they hit the bridge, the truck immediately started to slide. The wind chill blowing across the snow had turned the street into a giant ice skating rink. The truck had chains, but they might as well have been in a sled. The grip was non-existent. They struck the curb, and the wheels began to spin.
“I got to get out and push,” Bob said.
Michelle got into the driver seat and Bob showed her what to do and explained when to give it gas.
He pushed from behind and Michelle pressed lightly on the pedal as he’d said. Bob kept working at it and she kept trying but nothing was happening. Michelle was about to ask if she should try pushing when she saw that a car was coming up the bridge behind them. It was familiar and her heart started jack hammering inside her chest.
It was them! Michelle threw open the door. “Bob! Get inside!” she shouted.
When he hesitated, she jumped out of the truck, slipping on the ice. “Get inside. Now!”
Bob was looking at her like she was crazy. She was about to grab him and physically drag him inside. She pulled the gun she’d taken from Cameron out of her pocket. And that was when she realized the other car was actually not a police car. Donny’s beige SUV slowly approached. “You guys stuck?” he said as he stopped next to them.
His eyes widened when he saw the gun and Michelle quickly shoved it back into her pocket. Bob chuckled as Donny got out and helped them push.
Sheepishly, Michelle turned around and strode back over to the driver’s side and got back in to push the gas. Her hands were shaking on the wheel. She was still terrified to run into that group again.
The truck finally gained traction and Bob got back inside while Michelle scooted over. “What was that back there?” he asked.
“The officers,” she murmured. “I thought. I’m not sure what I thought. But I can’t stop hearing them being murdered. It keeps playing in my head over and over.”
He reached across the truck and grabbed her hand. “It’s not easy seeing stuff like that. It haunts you. I’m sorry you had to witness that, Michelle. I really am.”
“Does it get better?” she asked, and Bob grimaced but gave her a white lie.
“Over time.”
She knew he’d fought in war. Michelle knew he’d seen death. Now she understood it better too, the idea that it could change you into someone else entirely. That’s how it felt. The Michelle before and the one after.
They pulled up to t
he house and she frowned as they went inside. She heard someone whispering in the bedroom where she found Mr. Chung holding Mrs. Haverstick’s hand. She was pale as a ghost, and her eyes were closed. It wasn’t English that Mr. Chung was speaking, but it didn’t matter.
Now she knew why Bob had brought her. Mrs. Haverstick was about to die, and Bob needed Michelle’s help deciding what to do. And without upsetting the entire group.
Bob pulled Michelle aside. “Your landlord has been taking care of her ever since he was feeling better. She’s only gotten sicker as time has passed.”
“I see.”
“She’s not going to make it,” Bob whispered, and Michelle nodded. “Could be any minute,” he added.
Michelle sighed and went to the elderly woman’s side. “Can she hear me?” she asked Mr. Chung quietly.
Her landlord shrugged. He had wet eyes as if he had been crying. “She has not spoken.”
“How about you, Mr. Chung? How are you feeling? Have you eaten?” Michelle asked.
He shook his head. “You can just call me Chung, Michelle. I feel fine. Cold. But who isn’t?”
His English was accented but clear. She’d never really spoken at length with her landlord. Although, now he was more than that. He was one of the few who she felt connected with in some small way. Another survivor.
Michelle left them alone, and she asked Bob once they were outside of the room. “What do we do? I mean…when she passes?”
“We wait.”
“Then what?” Michelle gazed at Bob in horror, a growing suspicion dawning in her mind.
“Bury her.”
“What?!”
“Keep your voice down, would ya?”
She stared at him in shock.
“What do you suggest?” Bob asked, arms crossed.
“Find a cemetery. Ask them to do their job…?”