When the jeep hit a large crack in the pavement, the impact jostled the pack in the passenger’s lap. Despite the look of panic on his face as he fumbled the bag, he managed to keep hold of it. As soon as he had the bag settled back into his lap, he repositioned the precious cargo and hooked his arms through the straps. On the front of his backpack, embroidered in blood red flossing, were the letters E and G. Nothing about his presence made sense in that jeep.
“Who’s the stiff?” I whispered. “No way that dude is army.”
“Definitely not,” Zander agreed.
I rose onto the balls of my feet and duck-walked to the edge of the flowerbed to get a closer look. A watering can rested on the corner of the bed, blocking my view. Just as I reached for it, the wind picked up, blowing it to the ground. The noise was quiet, but it drew the passenger’s attention. Our eyes locked and I froze, my heart beating wildly in my throat.
His eyes shot wide as they connected with mine. He gave just the slightest shake of his head, then peeked over his shoulder at the driver. He turned back, brought his hand up to his face, and held it just below his chin like he was choking himself. A blink later, he was staring forward as if nothing had happened. My mouth dropped open and I leaned my forehead against the flowerbed, convinced I had imagined the whole exchange.
As soon as the trucks were out of sight, I slowly rose to my feet. My crouched position had caused my legs to cramp, so I shook them loose as I brushed the dirt and dried grass off my knees. All that remained of the mysterious caravan was a cloud of dust and the lingering questions that flew in the breeze.
“Well, that was weird,” Falisha said, shaking the dust from her t-shirt.
“Was that sign language?” Jake asked, confirming that I had not, in fact, been hallucinating. “I couldn’t see exactly what he was doing, but it looked like some kind of hand signal.”
“I thought I had imagined that,” I said. “It didn’t look like sign language, but it was definitely a hand signal of some sort. I just have no idea what the guy was trying to say.”
“Show me,” Zander said, brushing his sweaty hair away from his face.
“Like this,” I said, holding my hand in position, “and the guy looked scared out of his mind.”
“Damn it,” Zander said. The tendons in his neck stretched tight, as he raked his hair back. “I knew it. I knew something wasn’t right about all that.”
“What is it,” I asked, stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”
“This,” Zander said, mimicking the gesture, “means hostage.”
***
“We need to get moving,” Zander said. “If that was the CDC, then it’s only a matter of time before they start quarantine protocol. One of the first things they will do is set up checkpoints. If we don’t get ahead of this thing, we will end up trapped here.”
“Beans!” I said, suddenly panicked. “Zander, we have to get to my little brother.”
“I know, Liv, and we will.” Zander grabbed my hand. “The time line for full containment depends on the severity of the situation. If communication is down, that could buy us a little more time, but we cannot afford to wait until nightfall. We need to go, like now.”
“How much fuel did you guys find?” Jake turned to Falisha and Riley.
“I don’t know for sure,” Riley shifted uncomfortably on her feet.
“We found seven lamps,” Falisha offered. “But all together, that’s maybe only a gallon?”
“That’s not nearly enough,” Zander growled, fisting his hair in his hands. “A gallon won’t even make a dent in getting her running.”
“Damn it,” I said, clenching my hands behind my head.
My little brother was at least twenty miles from here, maybe even farther. The fuel we had on hand was not even enough to get the tractor to the road. With every second that slipped by, my heart sank farther into my chest. Every breath felt like a brand new failure.
“Sorry, guys,” Riley said, crossing her arms over her chest. “We searched the entire house and the front lot, but that was all we found.”
“Behind the barn,” Micah mumbled around the nails in his mouth, then disappeared back behind his trailer and started hammering away again.
Micah had painstakingly wrapped each of the trailer’s four wheels in wide strips of canvas. He tore them from one of the giant tarps that had been draped over the old John Deere. He wound each length of fabric around the metal rim and threaded it through the spokes, over and over. He continued the process, tying the ends of each strip to the next, until the entire rim was covered. When he finished, they looked like padded cogs, but the cloth bunches had effectively created a uniform cushion between the rim and the road.
When he finished the wheels, Micah set to work on the flatbed, fashioning a basic A-frame structure out of wood scraps. Across it, he stretched the remaining scraps of canvas, which he nailed into place along the length of each side. The ends of the tent-like structure were left open allowing air to flow through it while still providing protection from the sun. It was quite brilliant in its simplicity.
I nodded my thanks and with Falisha at my heel, took off to dig through the muck behind the barn. Just past a pile of rakes and hoes and hidden behind a stack of broken pallets, was a six-foot high mound of multi-colored plastic jugs. We sifted through the pile together, tossing aside a random assortment of mysterious liquids, half-full soda bottles, and containers of motor oil. We smelled like a sweat-sock dipped in gasoline, but we returned a few minutes later carrying an armload of gallon-sized jugs of kerosene. In our absence, the rest of the group had managed to clear a path, and push the Model D from the barn, out to the end of the driveway.
“They’re back,” Riley screeched, rushing over to wrap her arms around my neck. “Oh my god, you guys are amazing!”
“Ry,” I choked, trying not to drop the jugs.
“This is going to work. It has to work,” Riley squeezed tighter as she squawked in my ear. “This can totally work, right?”
“Ry,” I wheezed a chuckle. “Need air.”
“Oh God, sorry,” she said, gritting her teeth. She pulled two jugs from my hand as she release me from her chokehold, then trotted back to the where the others were working.
Micah and Zander were acting like strangers, barely making eye contact as they worked to fasten the trailer to the rig. Once again, I bit my tongue, fighting the urge to defend Micah. Distance was what Micah had wanted and while it was difficult to watch, it was not my place to intervene. Jake held a plastic kitchen funnel in place and I slowly poured the kerosene into the tank. I was unsure of how far our fuel would take us, but I was careful not to waste a single drop.
Falisha and Riley ran back and forth from the house to the driveway, loading up the trailer for the trip slow trip to Morrison. They made quick work of the task, stacking our packs and supplies down the center of the flatbed. Once the trailer was loaded, the two of them fastened everything down with some ratchet straps we scavenged from the basement. By the time Jake and I had finished fueling up the “D,” everyone (even Micah) was smiling and ready to go.
The big green monster may not have been pretty and she sure as hell wasn’t fast, but she represented our first major victory since the war with Icarus began. This little win had given us a tiny glimmer of hope, and that was far more beautiful than shiny paint and fast cars.
Chapter 36
Smoke and Mirrors
“How much farther?” Falisha asked again, shielding her face from Bella’s flailing tail.
Bella apparently loved going for a ride and her excitement was not easily contained. From the moment she leaped onto the trailer, I expected to see her wiggle right out of her skin. She paced about beneath the canopy, sniffing and sneezing, her tail slapping at us as she searched for the best spot. After a few minutes, she made her choice and stationed herself at the front of the trailer, her front paw balanced on the railing. Her perch allowed her the best view and, based on the sounds of her frantic sn
iffing, the best smells.
“We’ve gone, like a hundred feet, since the last time you asked me that,” Jake rolled his eyes. “Might as well sit back and relax. A watched pot never boils and all that.”
“Ugh,” she groaned, catching a tail-slap across her neck. “Seriously dog?”
“Ha! You just got bitch slapped,” Jake laughed, then quickly dodged an elbow. “Get it? ‘Cus Bella is a bitch? You know, bitch— as in a female dog?”
“Wow,” Falisha said, one brow up. “Maybe just stick to being the smart one, okay?”
“Everything okay back there?” Zander yelled back over the sounds of the engine.
“All good,” Riley yelled, shaking her head at the bicker-twins.
“Okay guys, get it together,” I said, clapping to get their attention. “So, here’s the plan. We will hit Zander’s first and see what we can find there. Then, after we scope out Micah’s dad’s place, we’ll all head up to the hospital. If we get separated somehow, make your way out to the old vet clinic on Highway 30, just outside of town. Everybody got it?”
The mood on the trailer was a mixture of anxiety and excitement. The closer we got to town, the more on edge everyone got. We did not know what to expect when we reached Morrison, but the possibility of help arriving had given the group something to look forward to. Maybe things really would be okay. Maybe the army had food, shelter, and medicine. Maybe they had answers.
Despite the distant possibility of rescue, an insurmountable wall of tension had erected itself between Riley and Micah. Less than an hour into the drive, Micah moved to the front of the trailer and yelled out to Zander.
“Chinese fire drill?” Micah feigned a smile.
After a quick driving lesson, Zander took Micah’s place in the trailer and we were back on the road. He crawled in next to me and laced our fingers together. I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes, rubbing at the sore spot in my chest. The wheels pattered against the cracked pavement like a muffled rainstorm as we rolled down Highway 30. Trees as bare and burnt as matchsticks dotted the landscape and slid past us in slow motion. The houses outside of town were few and far between. Most were either smoldering or had toppled in on themselves, hapless victims of the previous night’s freak lightning storm. The rhythmic bouncing of the trailer had just begun to lull me to sleep when the pull hit me like a line drive to the chest.
“Gah!” My eyes shot open as fire sliced through my veins. I bit my lip against the pain as Zander groaned beside me, rubbing his chest.
“On it,” Jake muttered, squeezing in next to Bella to look out the front of the tent. “I…I don’t see anything.”
“I don’t think they are that close,” Zander said in a gravelly voice, pulling at his shirt as if it were choking him. “It’s weird. I don’t—”
“Wait, they,” Riley asked, frantically looking out the back end of the trailer.
“Yeah,” I said, straining to catch my breath. “It’s like…it’s coming from every direction.”
“Awesome,” Falisha grunted, throwing her hands in the air. “Of course this wouldn’t be simple.”
“Hang in there, guys. We are almost there,” Jake said, lowering himself back inside the trailer. “You two going to be okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, closing my eyes against the pain. “Just…need a minute.”
I squeezed Zander’s hand, breathing hard against the thousands of flaming hot needles poking into my chest. My head was throbbing and I tasted bile at the back of my throat. I slowed my breathing, swallowed back the burn, and tried desperately to calm the ache in my rib cage. Minutes later, I had still achieved only a small measure of relief. Zander looked uncomfortable, but he did not seem to be in as much pain.
“Liv,” he whispered, squeezing back. “Liv, talk to me. Are you okay?”
“Um, yeah,” I lied, not ready to open my eyes yet.
“Z, we are dangling on empty right now,” Micah yelled back. “Not sure how much farther she’s gonna take us.”
“Push her till she bottoms out,” Jake yelled. “We can’t afford to be stranded on the side of the highway.”
“Park out behind the historical society, if you can get her there,” Zander yelled over Jake’s head.
Micah nodded, gripping the wheel in both hands. We had barely passed the car dealership just inside the city line when the engine began to sputter and spit. By some small miracle, the wheels kept turning though for how long we didn’t know. I watched from the back opening, with Riley, and carried on my slow breathing, though it barely took the edge off the stabbing pain pressing down on me.
A few minutes later, we crept past an abandoned gas station and struggled up the low-lying hill that stood between us, and downtown. The engine popped and clicked as it wrung the last few drops of fuel from the tank. A few hundred feet ahead of us gleamed the cherry-red brick facade of the old Odell Public Library. The building had long-since been replaced with a newer, more modern building on the other side of town, but it now functioned as the town’s historical society building. The trees out front looked barren and skeletal against the harsh orange sky, but the building itself looked unharmed.
“Don’t you die, now, damn it!” Micah pounded on dash of the tractor.
“Come on, baby, you can do it,” Jake yelled from the front of the trailer, with Bella barking her agreements at his side. “Just a little farther.”
The Model D, shuttered and shook, as it crested a small hill. With a final pop and a high-pitched squeal, the engine finally gave up. Micah shifted into neutral and the D rolled to a stop, about fifty feet shy of the gravel lot, next to the building. The area around us was scattered with black pods, all of which smelled heavily of death and decay. When the rig fell silent, we heard the distant rumble of engines approaching.
“Everybody out,” Zander yelled as he leaped from the trailer. “Micah, stay at the wheel. Jake, on this side with me. Liv, Falisha, and Riley, take that side. We have to get the tractor into the lot behind the building. Hurry!”
“Stay,” I said to Bella, as we hopped out onto the pavement and took our positions at behind the giant rear wheels.
The weight of the sun’s rays beat down on us and the distant engines grew louder. Together we pushed and groaned, maneuvering the old tractor into the back lot of the retired library. With Jake’s help, Zander disconnected the trailer and the two of them dragged it behind the storage shed near the back entrance.
“Better safe than sorry,” Zander said, hunching over to catch his breath. “The old tractor won’t look out of place here, but a ghetto-rigged trailer would send up all kinds of red flags.”
“Get down,” I shouted, dragging him behind a big green dumpster next to the library, as the trucks approached the front of the building.
Everyone crammed in behind the huge metal bin and we watched in silence as a big carrier truck rolled slowly into view. Behind it was an open-top jeep. Both vehicles were manned with soldiers, each of whom had a gun; one of which was very, very large. The gunman spun around, waving what looked like a massive machine gun, as he scanned the area.
“Hold up,” shouted the driver of the jeep, holding his fist in the air. “Goobs at three o’clock. Kappa team, tag’m and bag’m, and let’s roll out. We still have four more miles on grid before chow.”
“Shhh,” I whispered, leaning in to listen closer.
Five guys in army fatigues piled out of the back of the larger truck; each wore a mask and heavy rubber gloves. In one hand, they held a long metal stick and in the other a plastic bucket with a lid. They scattered themselves across the front lawn of an insurance office next door and, using the grabber tools, began to gather up the pods that lay about. Each one was placed into a bucket. The lids were secured tightly after each drop.
“Do we really have to collect all of these damn things?” One of the soldiers kicked at the ground as he muttered to another.
“That’s what the suits say,” the other croaked into his mask.
<
br /> “Seriously, bro, how many of these things are they going to chop up before they figure it out?” asked the first.
“Hell if I know,” The other shrugged.
“God, these things smell like shit rolled in burnt hair,” the first complained, scrunching up his face as he dropped one into his bucket.
“Kind of wishing I had been put with CID for the E99 security sweep,” said a female soldier as she approached. “Gotta be better than scraping these up in hundred-twenty degree heat,” said the original complainer. “I swear my balls are stuck to my knee right now.”
All three of them laughed at the crude joke. The quiet guy dropped the last pod, an especially gooey one, into his bucket. It landed with a sickening thunk, and the three of them hustled back to the big truck and climbed in.
“Ugh, charming,” I muttered. “What were they doing?”
“Looks like they were collecting samples,” Jake said, looking disgusted.
“What’s CID,” Riley whispered, turning to Zander.
“Criminal Investigations Division,” Zander muttered, his mouth set in a grim line.
“Zander, he said E99 breach,” I said, rubbing at the pain in my chest. “Does he mean—?”
“Probably,” he said, his eyes tight with worry. “We need to get to my house— now.”
A few minutes later, the last of the soldiers finally packed it in and took off down the road. I guessed it to be around ten p.m., but the sun’s warm orange glow still lingered in the sky. It had only just begun to fade when we finally eased our way across the street. After a quick drink, we settled into our packs and set off toward our next destination.
“How far to your place, Zander,” Riley asked.
“Six blocks down, after we cross that next set of tracks,” he said, pointing to the railroad crossing ahead.
He lowered his hand and I slid mine into it. I gave him my best it’s-going-to-be-okay smile. His half-hearted nod disagreed. We both understood what was happening, but saying it out loud wouldn’t change anything. The railroad tracks were the point of no return. From the moment we hopped the trusses, we walked along in silence.
Killshot (Icarus Series Book 1) Page 33