Paul and Samantha's eyes instantly locked on each other in terror. With the broadcast, their peaceful morning and idealized plans immediately vanquished. Reality came crashing down on them with the turn of a dial. The announcer continued.
"Mass widespread panic has spread across the state of Colorado where, up until now, there was no sign of any nuclear attack or plot. The governor has re-doubled his efforts to enforce martial law in the state. With no word from Washington, and Capitol Hill reportedly obliterated, all surviving states are left with little option but to control the population in this crucial time of national crisis."
Paul grabbed Samantha's hand and squeezed it. How much time did they have left? It seemed inspiring massive panic and fear was another phase on Bryant’s list, but if things went as planned, "The Masterminds" had no intention of detonating the bomb. Perhaps Paul and Samantha's best bet was to flee the country and make new lives for themselves. The thought had crossed Paul's mind. Julie's eyes fluttered open as she began to wake. She lifted her head from Samantha's chest and yawned.
"Is it morning already?" she asked.
Samantha stroked Julie's hair, unresponsive. Her eyes and ears were glued to the car stereo as the announcer made another declaration.
"In recent developments, officials have released information on two suspects believed to have knowledge of the whereabouts of the bomb. They are described as a 'young married couple with a daughter that were last seen near the Denver Airport.' Paul Thompson, white male, thirty-five years old, five-foot nine, is currently wanted by authorities for questioning. He is known to pose falsely as a United States Congressman. His alleged wife, Samantha Thompson, twenty-eight, five-foot six, is a white female of Japanese descent. They are believed to possess deep knowledge on the location of the bomb, and all citizens are asked to keep a vigilant watch of these suspects. Their alleged daughter, Julie Thompson, white female, twelve years old, five feet, is said to accompany them as well. An official manhunt is underway for these suspects who may have terrorist connections or could be terrorists themselves. Images from a security camera in the Denver airport have been broadcast on all state television channels and widely distributed among law enforcement and military. Citizens are urged to use caution when approaching these suspects as they are reported as being armed and highly dangerous."
Paul and Samantha stared at each other in shock. There was no way that the announcer was saying what they had just heard. Them? Terrorist suspects? Samantha held Julie tight. Paul looked at the radio with a defeated expression as his mind went in a hundred different places.
"Bryant," he said softly. "He beat us to the punch. He's going to have all of Denver looking for us now."
"I knew that he would," Samantha said with a shaky voice. "What are we going to do?"
"Did they just say our names on the radio?" Julie asked. A growing look of concern flushed across her face.
"They have the wrong information, sweetheart," Samantha said as she kissed the top of Julie's head.
"This changes nothing," Paul said. "We have to get to the city. it's our only hope."
Suddenly, helicopters sounded in the distance, immediately getting Paul's attention. They flew closer and closer as Paul shifted around in the car to see where the noise was coming from. Samantha was shaking with fear as the whirring of the blades grew louder. Julie looked between Paul and Samantha with utter confusion.
"What is it?" she asked.
Paul could see them. There were two helicopters appearing over the mountains directly towards them. As they came into sight, he started the engine. Samantha reached over and grabbed the steering wheel.
"No, wait," she said. "We're concealed here under these trees. They don't see us yet."
As if to debunk Samantha, a symphony of faint police sirens entered the fray. Paul jerked his head around to the windy road that took them up the mountain. He didn't see anything yet, but the sound of the sirens became undoubtedly louder.
"They've found us," Paul said.
Samantha was in perpetual disbelief. Senator Bryant hadn't given them a chance, just a false glimmer of hope. She held Julie tighter, trying to calm her. Samantha's cocktail dress was now torn and ragged. How she wished they could all just find a nice hotel room, shower, and change. They could go out to dinner, order steaks, and get so full that it hurt to leave the table. Her mind continued to drift towards mental escape as though their capture seemed inevitable. What would it matter?
A cavalry of police vehicles sped around the bend, heading towards the lookout point. They were at least a mile or two away, andPaul's mind raced with options. The helicopters were close upon them, circling overhead. There were little options left.
"I want you to take Julie and hide. I'll lead them away from you. With any luck, I might be able to make it to Arthur before they get me."
Samantha flashed Paul a disapproving glare. The police vehicles were closer, slowing only to handle the abrupt curves in the road.
"Have you lost your mind? We're not going to do that. We'll stay together," she said.
"They said that we're terrorists. That laptop is the only hope we have, but as soon as they catch us, we'll never see it again. I have to get it to Arthur."
"Him again. You'll never make it. Don't you see the helicopters?"
"Please, Samantha, it's the only way."
Julie remained still and quiet, unsure of her parent's heated conversation and what they were talking about. She didn't understand being afraid of the police like they were. Police weren't perfect, but weren't they supposed to help people? Paul put the car into drive, ready to make a break for it. He looked at Samantha, beckoning her to get out of the car.
"No!" Samantha shouted. "We're not splitting up. What are Julie and I supposed to do out here? What if you don't come back?"
"Take Julie and hide. There's a cavern right over the ridge. Just run down the hill from the lookout spot and find it."
Paul grabbed his backpack and handed it to her with conviction in his eyes. "There's supplies in here. Snacks, water, water tablets, a pistol, first aid kit, and a flashlight. This should help."
Samantha remained stubbornly resistant to Paul's urging. She shook her head back and forth as tears ran from her shut eyelids.
"I can't do this, Paul. Don't ask me to do this," she said.
"You have to. What do you think is going to happen when they catch us? They'll lock us up away from each other forever."
"No, we'll get a good lawyer, we can fight this," Samantha cried.
"Maybe in another time, but not now. It's not that kind of world anymore."
"I don't give a shit what kind of world it is, we're not leaving this car!" she shouted.
The sirens were a half-mile away. There was little time to react. Paul looked into his rearview mirror and watched as a line of flashing sirens made their way up the hill. He quickly noticed an advantage he had if he were to turn the car around. He could shoot right down the mountain just as they were coming up. It might buy him a little time while also taking the police by surprise. They'd have to find a way to turn around. Paul's mind shifted back to Samantha. He was surprised to see her still in the car. She was really fighting him on the plan.
"Sam. Go. Now!" he said. "If we have any chance, this is it."
Julie tugged on her mother's arm. Samantha looked down. "He's right. It's our only chance," she said.
Though Julie didn't know all the details, she was convinced that staying in the car and getting arrested was foolish, even if police were supposed to be the good guys. Samantha said little else. She grabbed the backpack and opened the car door. Julie climbed out first.
"Bye, Paul, good luck," she said.
"Thank you, Julie," Paul responded.
Samantha remained in the car with her face soaked in tears. She could barely breathe through the jerkiness of her rapid sobbing.
"I--just, I don't want you to do this. I just want us to be together," she said.
"I love you," Pau
l said as he leaned towards her with a kiss. Their arms wrapped around each other as they pulled each other tightly.
"I love you too," Samantha said.
"I'll be back soon," Paul promised, though Samantha didn't see how it was possible.
"Okay," she said with a faint and nervous laugh. "Don't be long."
Samantha smiled amidst her fractured state. If anything, she hoped it would inspire confidence in Paul. She slowly stepped out of the car and held onto the door.
"Bye," Paul said. "Now hurry and run to the cavern before it's too late."
Samantha closed the door and placed her palm over the window, leaving a hand print. As they walked away, Paul jammed the Malibu into reverse and turned it around. The police cars were right on him, closing in like sharks.
"Okay, you bastards. Come and get me," Paul said. He glanced over to see Samantha and Julie hop the railing and run down the hill. He hoped and prayed for their safety. His plan was risky, and he very well may have put them at greater risk, but he didn't see any other way.
He could feel the roar of the police cavalry the closer they got. It was as though the mere sight of the Malibu excited their pursuit. Paul put the car in drive and floored it. The Malibu skidded ahead, from zero to sixty, in no time, past the line of police cars and down the mountain road. A long cloud of smoke trailed from behind, leaving the authorities confused as they reached the lookout spot, only to find their suspect fleeing in the opposite direction.
The line of ten police cars quickly tried to turn around but nearly crashed into each other like dominoes. Paul had gained some needed ground. As soon as his unexpected escape became known, the two helicopters changed course and followed him overhead. The police cars turned around after much calamity and drove back down the road after Paul. Though he maintained his speed, Paul steered carefully around each turn as to not fly off the railing. He was close to the Rocky National Park exit, and soon the Denver city limits.
On the right side of the road, a black SUV sat parked in a small concave. The Malibu zoomed past, startling the passengers. At the wheel was Tyson, the bunker security guard, and in the passenger seat sat none other than Senator Bryant. He clutched a handheld radio in one hand and a pair of binoculars in the other.
"The fuck was that?" Bryant asked his driver.
"That was no police car, looked like a Chevy Malibu," Tyson responded.
Bryant turned the knob on his handheld radio up to listen in on the police chatter.
"Suspect is fleeing. I repeat, suspect is fleeing. Driving a blue 1994 Chevy Malibu headed towards the National Park exit."
"That was him?" Bryant shouted. "Fuck, Tyson. Put the pedal to the metal and let's chase this scumbag."
"We shouldn't be here, Mr. Bryant. I told you it would be too dangerous. We should get you back in the bunker with the others before it's too late."
"Nonsense, although I appreciate your concern. This is my problem, and I'm going to fix it. Follow the prick."
Tyson hesitated. His hand hovered on the shifting lever on the steering wheel.
"Move!" Bryant shouted.
Tyson reluctantly put the SUV in drive and raced after Paul. The police still had some ground to cover to catch up. The inside of the SUV shook violently as Tyson took sharp turns to gain on the fleeing car. Above them, the helicopters raced along, keeping watch of the chase. Bryant clicked the side of the handheld radio and spoke into it.
"I've got the vehicle in sight, he's not getting anywhere. Just get your team ready to apprehend him," Bryant said.
He opened the glove compartment and pulled out a Desert Eagle pistol.
"What are you going to do with that?" Tyson asked.
They were only a few car lengths behind their suspect. Bryant locked and loaded.
"I'm going to get what they stole from me. They could be armed too. Who knows, they might even try to fire at us, you know? Maybe they fired at us before the police even arrived."
Tyson could see what Bryant was getting at.
"Got it," he said.
Paul looked into his rearview mirror while trying to watch the unpredictable road. He noticed an unfamiliar SUV gaining on him. He neared the bottom of the mountain and would soon steer for the highway exit. One last curve aside a deep chasm and he would be home free. There was, however, no getting rid of the helicopters overhead. Even if he made it to Arthur in Denver, the likelihood of making it back to Samantha grew slimmer by the minute. The fuel gauge shook just above the empty mark.
Bryant raised the binoculars to his eyes. He saw only one silhouette at the wheel. Perhaps Samantha and the girl were crouched down and hiding. He watched and watched and saw no indication of anyone else in the car. The binoculars lowered as he grabbed his handheld. "I see only one person in the vehicle, where are the other two?" he demanded.
"We've since only identified one white male at the wheel. No other passengers have been identified."
Bryant threw the radio to the floor.
"Son of a bitch!" he shouted.
Tyson remained silent, trying his best to keep up with Paul. Bryant pressed a button on his door to roll down the window as mountain furiously air rushed in.
"What are you doing, Sir?" Tyson asked.
Bryant held the Desert Eagle outside the window, steadying it.
"I'm going to take his tires out. Or maybe I'll just aim it at his head."
"Senator, Sir, We should really let the police handle this. He may have the laptop. Or worse, he may have given it to the woman."
The mention of Samantha fueled Bryant into a moment of inner rage. He fired a shot at the rear tire of the Malibu, just missing it. The sudden blast of the gun startled Tyson and caused him to swerve.
"Stay on the road!" Bryant shouted.
Tyson fumbled with the steering wheel and got it back on track. The police had caught up and were directly behind the SUV with their lights flashing and sirens blaring.
"Maybe we should get out of their way," Tyson suggested.
Bryant ignored him and raised the pistol out of the window again. This time, he had a clear shot to the back of Paul's head. He squeezed one eye shut and held his aim steady.
A sign ahead warned of sharp curves, and with that, Paul thought of a plan, though it was risky. He accelerated to his fastest speed yet, reaching upwards of sixty miles per hour. As predicted, the SUV accelerated to stay on Paul's tail. At the last possible second, Paul slowed and jerked the steering wheel to the right, nearly coasting off the road.
Tyson was unprepared for the Malibu's sudden movement and tried to do his best to slow down and stay on the road. Bryant missed his opportunity and was thrown back into his seat. Before he could even react, the SUV skidded to the left, unable to maintain its grounding through the tight curve. Tyson could see it coming but couldn't believe it. The SUV smashed into the guardrail and went over the side of the mountain into the chasm below. Their screams lasted only seconds before the vehicle burst into a fiery ball at the bottom of jagged rocks and stone.
The police cavalry slowed to a halt at the sharp curve right after the break in the guardrail. The helicopters also switched position and flew overhead the explosion.
"The Senator's vehicle has crashed; I repeat, the Senator's vehicle has crashed. Need emergency rescue teams deployed immediately," one of the officers said into their radio.
For a moment, they weren't sure what to do and had momentarily forgot about Paul.
"Suspect is still at large, headed towards the highway. Air support is advised to stay with suspect."
One of the helicopters moved away from the explosion site and flew towards the highway just as Paul was merging on. He saw no vehicles in his mirror. Perhaps his car trick had shaken them off. He might make it to the city after all. Just as his confidence started to build, he heard the nauseating sound of the helicopter pursuing him from above. He hadn't escaped them after all. It was going to be one long high-speed chase all the way to the city as his fuel gauge bottomed out, closer
to the empty line.
Chapter Twelve
Aftermath
After Day One, Sacha had been on the road with the "Brotherhood of Men" for weeks. They had managed to evade the authorities so far in that they were always on the move. On the outside, Sacha played the nervous, meek, and submissive role, never saying much, but always listening and observing. He wanted to know of their plans. He wanted to know where they were going with the bomb and when they were planning to detonate it. Ammon and his "brothers" talked enthusiastically of their success and the amazing unprecedented capacity of the bomb they had acquired. The journey seemed to lead south.
Sacha later concluded that they were definitely headed south. Sacha rode in the van with Hasan, Omar, Ammon, Rashad, and the quiet driver named Razar who always smoked. Another van followed with some of the guerrilla militants who had gunned down the American conspirators in the blink of the eye. Two men, whom Sacha hadn't been introduced to yet, drove the tractor trailer that housed the bomb. With such a large entourage, it was surprising that they hadn't drawn attention to themselves yet. But they were careful not draw attention to themselves, and they were always on the move.
They would stop along the way for additional food and supplies--and considering the size of their vehicles--fuel was always an issue. Many of the states they went through--from Ohio to Kentucky; Tennessee to Mississippi--were in the throes of massive power outages and grid failures. They avoided urbanized areas and stuck to the main highway, often hitting major congestion where people were evacuating neighboring states along the East Coast that had been hit.
"Do you see it?" Ammon called out while staring out the front of the van into the massive ocean of cars on the highway. "It's beautiful. The very breakdown of western society that we'd been hoping for. If only they knew that, in the end, there is no escape."
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