by Knights, BJ
Jim went to grab his cat’s cage and a small pre-prepared bag of cat food when Coyle shouted from the living room. “So where are we headed to once we get out of San Diego?”
He stacked the food in his pack and walked back down the hallway to the living room. “Phoenix,” he said when he entered.
“My sister and niece live there. We can stay with them for a while.”
“You sure it’s cool if I come with?” Coyle asked with raised eyebrows.
“It’ll be fine.” Jim picked up Tigs and put her in the cage.
Jim gave a last glance around his home and took it in. A few pictures of him and his Navy buddies and his sister’s family portrait with his niece and brother-in-law sat atop the entertainment center. He might never sleep under this roof again. Coyle still sat on the couch as Jim leaned in the doorway, “Coyle, we need to get going. The roads will be packed soon if they’re not already and we still need to grab supplies for you.”
“Supplies? I thought we were going to Phoenix? Isn’t that only like a five hour drive?” Jim walked over and extended his hand and helped him off the couch. “I’ve only packed enough in my bug out bag for one man and one cat. I didn’t plan on having a plus one besides Tigs.”
He picked up the crate under one arm and locked the door. Just in case he got to come back he wanted to make sure his things stayed where they were. He loaded Tigs in between himself and Coyle and backed out of the driveway.
He pulled out his phone and searched “Sister” under his contacts and hit dial. Nothing. He hit the call button again, but it still didn’t ring. He checked the bars signals on his phone and saw that there weren’t any.
“Hey, let me see your phone,” Jim asked. Coyle pulled his phone out from his pocket. He noticed the dry blood on his pant leg, then realized that the majority of his jumpsuit was covered in blood and grease. He quickly unzipped and stripped down to his polo and cargo pants. Jim dialed the number, and again got nothing. “Shit. Something’s wrong with the phone lines. I’m not getting through.”
Jim glanced down at his gas tank. He had three quarters of a tank, which was not very comforting. He had planned to fill it up after work that day, but regretted not doing it earlier. They didn’t have enough to get to Phoenix, but enough to put some distance between them and San Diego before they had to stop again. He motioned over to the glove box and instructed Coyle to pull out the map he kept in there. Coyle began plotting the quickest way to Phoenix with some alternate routes planned as Jim suggested he do.
The truck few down the highway and Jim flicked on the radio. News reports began to stream in over the incident at the Naval Base. “Our reporters on scene say the base has been completely leveled. The targeting of the U.S.S Midway Museum as well as the base itself has the casualty estimates somewhere in the thousands with even more injured.”
Coyle’s mouth dropped open. “Holy shit,” he said. The broadcaster continued, “The military has quarantined the entire area and the majority of the crowds have been evacuated. We’re also getting confirmed reports of similar bombs going off in New York and Washington, though we’re unsure of the location of the specific blast sites. We haven’t got any official word from the pentagon other than they’re ‘gathering information’, but this reporter believes that these are intentional attacks on U.S. soil.”
“The national guard has been called in to help with assistance and control as well as the San Diego Marine Corp Recruit Depot. Right now no further warnings have been issued.”
An advertisement began to play and Jim turned the volume down a bit. Coyle looked at Jim in disbelief. “New York and Washington D.C.?” he asked. Jim stayed focused on the road while Coyle mulled over what he had just heard. Jim tried keeping Coyle distracted by having him find a grocery store on their route.
Coyle came through and ended up finding not only a grocery store, but a camping store in the same shopping mall a few miles up the road. It was on the way and while Jim wanted to avoid any crowded areas, he wanted to make sure he had enough supplies for the two of them if they had to make a sudden change of plans on their way to Phoenix.
When the exit came up traffic was beginning to increase. Jim wasn’t sure if this was due to it being later in the afternoon and people starting to get off work, or because of the events of what happened. Either way it started to make him a little weary. They pulled into the parking lot and found a spot about a hundred yards away from the entrance to the stores.
Jim checked his holster to ensure it was hidden and cracked the windows for Tigs. He motioned Coyle over to the side of the truck and grabbed the smaller pistol out of the duffle bag. He looked at Coyle and asked him, “You still go shooting every Sunday?”
Coyle took the pistol, checked the chamber, loaded a clip in and clicked the safety on, “Right after church.” He grinned as he tucked the pistol in the back of his belt under his shirt.
They split up with Coyle grabbing the things needed from the grocery store, and Jim heading into the camping store. As they were walking through the parking lot Jim instructed Coyle what to look for. “You want to stay away from anything perishable. Try and stick with can goods, health bars, instant oatmeal, two one-liter bottle waters, and some multi-vitamins. Make sure the amount of food you get will last you at least three days, but no more than will fit in a pack about my size. Got it?”
Coyle nodded as he jotted down the list of things to grab. Jim went on. “Once you get your food you’ll also want to grab a few other things like disinfectant wipes, large band aides, gauze, cotton balls, ibuprofen, aloe, a lighter, duct tape, and a pack of AA batteries.” Coyle finished writing down his list and Jim shouted to him as he walked into the grocery store, “Meet back at the truck in twenty minutes!”
While Coyle grabbed the food Jim started to mentally prepare his list as he headed towards the camping store. He knew he would get a thermal sleeping bag, a 7-inch survival blade with a full-tang, portable first aid kit, flashlight, a small compass, a magnesium flint with steel striker for starting fires, and a pack to fit everything in.
Jim paid with his card since all the machines seemed to be working and headed back out to the car. It was almost four and if they didn’t leave soon they’d be stuck in rush hour traffic, which Jim desperately wanted to avoid.
He was the first to the car and began packing the supplies in the bag when he saw Coyle running with bags in his hands. He was at a full sprint and skidded to a halt throwing the bags of groceries in his hand to the ground. He panted to catch his breath as he sputtered out, “Radio… Something… Happened… Turn on… Radio.”
Jim slid the key into the ignition and turned the radio on. The broadcaster was in the middle of his report. “I repeat, bombs have detonated in the downtown San Diego area. We haven’t confirmed how large the blast was, or what was specifically targeted, but we do have confirmed reports of a large blast happening in downtown San Diego.”
Jim threw the pack in the bag and tossed the grocery supplies in the truck bed. Coyle ran around the other side and jumped into the passenger’s seat. Jim pulled out of the parking spot as he saw a few other customers running for their vehicles. Just as he was about to put the truck into drive a pair of fighter jets blasted right above them towards the coast. They were flying so low the jet wash shook the car and the roar of the engines just about made them deaf.
Tigs meowed loudly under all of the duress and as Jim pulled back out on the highway he heard the distant blast of bombs and as he glanced into his rearview mirror he saw the smoke from more explosions.
Chapter 3 – GTFO
“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit,” Coyle repeated in trembling succession. He glanced back at the jets racing off into the distance. Many of the cars along the opposite side of the highway had come to a complete stop on the side of the road with their passengers getting out and watching more jets fly through the air towards the coast.
Coyle finally spun back around in his seat with his eyes wide he looked over at Jim
who wasn’t glancing in the rearview mirror at all. “Jim, those were fighter jets. Fucking fighter jets!” Jim was passing most of the cars on his left and right not bothering to stay in one lane, but weaving in and out of traffic to put more distance behind them. Coyle punched Jim in the arm, asking, “Are you even listening to me?”
A caravan of about ten squad cars sped down the opposite side of the highway with their lights blaring and the sirens raging through the wind. They blew past the rest of the traffic like they were standing still.
Jim put his eyes back on the road and Coyle fell back into his seat. All of his adrenaline had finally run out. “Holy shit…” he mumbled.
At the pace they were driving Jim believed that they would arrive in Phoenix in five hours. He glanced down at his gas tank and noticed that it was below the three quarter mark. Coyle sat motionless with his eyes staring straight ahead. Jim opened up Tigs’ cage and she gladly exited. She bounced onto Coyle’s lap, purring quietly as she circled around his lap. In no time she curled up as her eyes closed shut.
Jim knew there was a Naval Air facility in El Centro on their way out of California to Phoenix and wondered or not if he should avoid it. It could be a potential road block for anyone heading east. Since he wasn’t familiar with those back roads the further east he went he decided to stick to his gut and stay along the interstate as long as the traffic remained fluent.
After a few hours of driving the sun was setting low in the west behind them and the gas tank was hovering just above a quarter of a tank. They were about two hours from Phoenix and thirty minutes away from the Naval Air Facility. Coyle was passed out in the passenger seat along with Tigs and Jim thought it would be a good idea to find a gas station to fill up before they got there. Just in case.
There was a Chevron on the next exit along with a few food places in less than a mile. Jim pulled onto the off ramp for the exit and slowed down as he approached a stop light up ahead.
It was just a small exit town with a few stores and a rundown motel. The desert atmosphere made the town feel more barren than it actually was. It was dusk now and Jim flicked on his headlights as he pulled onto the main road. He saw the Chevron sign up ahead and nudged Coyle awake.
“Ugh, what?” he yawned and stretched. Tigs jumped on top of her crate and rubbed her head on Jim’s shoulder. He gave her a scratch and tried to keep Coyle awake. “We needed to stop and get gas. Thought you could use a bathroom break. That is unless you’re still empty from peeing yourself earlier.” With his eyes still closed Coyle flipped him the bird and then dropped his hand onto his own lap. He was so tired that even the exertion of insulting Jim seemed to wear him out.
The truck pulled into the two-pump, carless Chevron and Jim got out. He unscrewed the gas cap and put the pump in. He slid his card and banged on the truck’s hood as he walked by to wake up Coyle. “Fill it up. Want anything from inside?” Coyle waved him off with his eyes still closed.
The door chimed as Jim entered. An elderly lady sat behind the counter reading a recent issue of US Weekly. She didn’t look up as he entered, so he headed to the back for the restroom. The door was locked with a sign that said, “See front counter for key.” He let out an exhaustive sigh and headed back around the corner.
As soon as he turned, a man in a ski mask bust through the door with a double-barrel pump action shot gun. He pointed it at Jim, then at the old lady. “Get on the ground! Get on the ground now or I’ll blow your fucking brains out!” The old lady complied and crouched down behind the counter.
Jim held his hands in the air and got to his knees. He looked out the window of the front door and saw another man in a ski mask with Coyle on the ground and Tigs aimlessly roaming the inside of the truck.
As Jim lay flat on his stomach with the man’s twelve gauge shotgun on the back of his skull, he breathed deeply as to maintain his composure. “That your friend out there with your truck?” the man asked.
Jim wasn’t sure if it was the cold tile, or the fact that he’d never had a gun this close to his head before that caused him to shake. “Yeah,” he answered. The man in the ski mask laughed and headed back over to the counter. He told the old lady, in no uncertain terms, to get up and empty whatever money she had in the sack that he threw on the counter.
Jim lifted his head up and saw the man keep pointing the gun at the old lady as she shoved what cash she had into the sack. He looked out through the glass again at the man’s partner as he kept the barrel of his gun on the back of Coyle’s head whose face was pressed hard into the gravel.
He knew exactly what they were planning to do. They would take the money from the store, Jim’s truck would be the getaway vehicle, and all of their supplies and transportation would vanish. He had to find a way to get the man close enough and lower his weapon for him to have a chance of engaging him.
“Where do you plan on going?”
“What the hell did you just ask me?” He stormed over and the barrel of the gun was right on Jim’s forehead again with the man’s finger on the trigger.
“What’s your destination? You can’t be heading back to San Diego. It’s a warzone over there.”
“What’s it to you?” barked the man behind the ski mask.
“I just wanted to make sure you and your boyfriend had a nice destination to run off into the sunset, that’s all.”
He pressed the barrel of the gun into his head even harder. “You stupid motherfucker, you should have kept that little comment to yourself.” He flipped the barrel of the gun around to smack Jim in the face, but took too long in his reactive moments. Jim moved swiftly off the ground, leapt to his feet, and barreled into the man at full force.
They both flew backwards and then hit the ground. They wrestled, awkwardly grunting and pulling at each other. Both of them struggled for the weapon. Jim took a nasty right cross on the chin, but was able to get leverage on the guy. He got him in an arm bar and popped his shoulder out of place. He screamed in pain through his ski mask and as his buddy ran into the store Jim heard a shotgun blast go off above him.
He kicked the gun away from the guy and pulled his pistol from his holster aiming it at the door. Jim saw the other ski masked man on the ground with blood pouring from his chest and the old lady with a twelve gauge crooked under her arm. Coyle came running in with his hands duck taped behind him and surveyed the scene.
Coyle nodded to Jim as the old lady raised her gun at him. He took a step sideways and said, “I’m with him.” Jim ran over to the other guy and patted him down. He pulled out another pistol, extra ammo, and the duct tape he’d used on Coyle.
He ripped up some of the duct tape and the man screamed as Jim pulled his arms behind his back to wrap his wrists. Once he was done he did the same to his feet. He glanced back up to the old lady and asked if she could take it from here. She nodded and as Jim walked out the door she added, “My son’s in the Navy. He was stationed in San Diego. I haven’t heard from him. Is it as bad as they say out there?”
Jim hesitated for a moment as the hardened look the woman had a few moments before softened with the worrying eyes of a mother, “I was at the base when it happened. It was bad, but nothing our boys can’t handle.” It was all he could tell her without going into too much detail and having to lie.
As she dialed the police she said the gas was on the house. Jim and Coyle jumped in the truck and continued their trek east. It took Tigs a little while to calm down as she jumped around the inside of the truck cabin, and it took Coyle even longer. Jim himself was still a little wired.
“Can you believe that shit? Bombs are going off around the country and these assholes are trying to kill us,” he said, shaking his head in disgust. As signs for the base drew near they could hear the sounds of jets taking off and helicopters moving in the night. They looked up through the windshield to see where they were, but they couldn’t find them in the dark, night sky.
Then, off in the distance, Jim saw what he feared he would run into. Tanks and barricad
es lined the interstate and military personnel bottlenecked the oncoming traffic in both directions.
Chapter 4 – Checkpoint
Jim told Coyle to put Tigs back into his cage. Cars honked and their drivers struggled to fight to merge into the single lane. Soldiers patrolled the line and helicopters with spot lights hovered above them.
The cloudy night sky shielded the moon from view and the military had setup large work lights to allow for better visibility. Jim could see that they were about a half a mile from the entrance to the barricade and the rate at which traffic was moving it could be a while before they got past it.
A group of four soldiers were scanning the cars before they passed through the barricade. They were five cars up from Jim and Coyle at a green Mazda Protégé four door sedan. It had a single male passenger. Jim could see the soldier at the driver’s window speaking to him. The passenger’s head bobbed up and down enthusiastically through the back window. The soldier nodded, and motioned for his crew to move on.