Broad America: A Post-Apocalyptic Adventure (End Days Book 3)

by E. E. Isherwood

  Before she realized what was going on, Smith yanked the pack from her clutches and hobbled past the Four Arrows cabinet, leaving a trail of blood behind him. He headed for the storage area of the station, which was the farthest point from the cabinet and the collider ring.

  “General!” she shouted. “You’ve been shot!”

  He yelled over his shoulder, “Faith, RUN, dammit! Listen to me this one time, please.”

  Somehow the injured man sprinted.

  It was impossible to stop him and she didn’t want to die watching, so she took off at a limping run in the opposite direction, toward the tram tunnel. She passed the tram and practically fell into the gap beyond. She imagined a giant clock ticking away the seconds, the sound pounding in her head.

  Or maybe that was her heartbeat. Faith jumped into the tunnel and kept hobbling. She heard the explosion at the same time that the ground shook below her.

  Then the air was sucked from the space.

  Sydney, Australia

  Destiny was unable to get a hold of Faith as she walked through the half-empty station. Since most trains were out or had simply vanished, as Becker and Gladys had explained, there were almost none left to carry passengers.

  Before she left, her brain was filled with the red light again. She held onto consciousness this time, although most people in the terminal crouched or fell to the floor. It was both horrible and fascinating to watch.

  Faith, you’re killing me, sis.

  She ran out while the people recovered, grabbed a taxi, and went to the Sydney Harbor Foundation. Her anger at how they had left her in the woods had ebbed, because she now understood the madness out in the world. She admitted they had done the right thing by taking care of the larger group, even if it meant she was left behind. However, she needed to maintain the appearance of anger to help her get out of Australia.

  She walked into the mostly empty office like a conquering Julius Caesar. Her clothes were dirty and torn from a sweaty and dusty couple of days.

  Rodney Blaskowitz was the guy she’d talked to earlier about using the Majestic to transport animals to America.

  He spoke as soon as he saw her. “You said you were going to call me back! I’ve been waiting for hours. Those flashes are crazy!”

  She rushed up and hugged Rodney. He was old enough to be her father, and she didn’t particularly like the guy, but he represented a tiny piece of stability in her topsy-turvy life.

  She pulled away after a brief squeeze.

  “Oi. What was that for?” he asked.

  “Rod, I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’ve been fighting to get here since the middle of last night when we spoke. Forget the flashes of red. Do we still have the boat?”

  “Sure, I guess. Why? What’s going on?

  “You don’t know?” she said with surprise. “The world has turned inside out. Train engines are disappearing. Train tracks are gone. Jungles are where they aren’t supposed to be. And the animals… You got my pictures, right?”

  He held up his phone, although it was turned off. “Yeah, you sent me some amazing photos.”

  She took a steadying breath, then looked him square in the eye. “We have to go to America. You. Me. Whoever else can fit on the boat. But we have to go right this minute. It might already be too late.”

  “Too late for what, Dez? What the hell are you going on about?”

  Her desire to go to America was mostly based on a desire to see her sister. If the world was going to fall apart, she didn’t want to be alone.

  She spoke like she was on speed. “I’ve not gotten proper sleep in three days. I’ve been left for dead in the fire. I swam to escape it. I’ve been shot at. I’ve shot a pre-historic bird. A jungle almost trapped me. Things are mad outside. I want to rescue some of these Aussie animals and take them to American zoos before they are all killed here.”

  Rod didn’t look convinced. “I saw the pictures, Dez, but I can’t believe they are real. The bosses didn’t think they were real, either.”

  “They aren’t giving us the boat?”

  She had to do it through proper channels because the boat would need to be piloted, and they would need fuel to get all the way to America. There was no better reason for a naturalist society than the preservation of rare species. Unless Tasmanian Tigers were showing up all over America, she was certain she could build a case for transporting them overseas to good homes—and those homes would probably pay for every drop of fuel to get them there.

  Rod shrugged. “They said if you can bring live specimens of these things, they’d drive the boat themselves. But Dez, I don’t think they were serious.”

  She held up her finger to shush him, then rang up Zandre.

  He picked up right away.

  “Dez! You okay?”

  “I’m fine. Made it to Sydney. The train won’t be running to Canberra for a long time, but that’s no longer my concern. I need a huge favor, and it might save both our lives.”

  “Sure. After the way my people treated you, I owe you one.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” she agreed. “But listen. I need to take a boat to America. Planes aren’t flying anymore. To do that, I need some living samples of extinct animals. We’re sure zoos in America will cover our costs, but we have to bring them the good stuff. Can you help?”

  “I didn’t bag my Duck of Doom, but I’ll be happy to go back out and try. Every hour my hunters come back with new specimens, although some guys are getting attacked and injured by beasts we didn’t know existed out there. Nasty buggers, those.”

  She smiled on the phone but didn’t tell him what she really thought. The imagery of those asshole hunters getting injured warmed her heart. She didn’t like thinking what those same animals were doing to innocent people elsewhere in Australia, however.

  “Bring as many as you can—alive—in the next twelve hours. You’ll have to drive them here, okay?”

  “It will take at least four hours to drive there. That only leaves me eight to hunt. Lucky for you, most of the time will be in daylight, but it’s still going to be tight.”

  “You will save my life, Z. I swear.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “We’ll meet at Port Botany. The ship is called the Majestic. Please. I need you to come through.”

  She hung up and turned back to Rod.

  “He brings the animals, we go to America. Right?”

  “I’m sure the bosses will agree.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Princess Anne, Maryland

  Garth kept his hands over his head while they waited on the dirty floor of the gas station as if they could protect against a gunshot. The gangsters had made it clear they were going to shoot one of the patrons, and he was out of ideas for how to fight back. They had his gun and his phone, so he couldn’t shoot his way out or dial 911 for help.

  Seconds passed, and the whole time he was sure he’d be the one they chose to off because he’d made the mistake of being close to them when the robbery was in progress.

  Sorry, Dad. I let you down.

  His eyes were closed as he waited, but a red flash came out of nowhere. It was exactly like the one he had suffered minutes earlier when he fell. Fortunately, this time he was already on the ground.

  Other people gasped and whined as the uneasy feeling struck to him, but Garth opened his eyes when a girl screamed outside by the pumps. It sounded a lot like Lydia.

  If he was going to get shot, he figured it wouldn’t matter if he looked up, so he gave it a try.

  “They’re gone!” he shouted as he sprang to his feet. The two black-suited men were messing around with his spray-painted taxi. Lydia stood outside her car door like they’d kicked her out.

  One of the baseball players sniffled. “What’s happening to my brain?”

  He was unconcerned with the people inside the store. Without a gun, Garth couldn’t exactly swoop in like a hero to save Lydia, but he wasn’t going to stand inside while she was out there.

  “He got up,�
�� a woman exclaimed from her prone position next to the soda fountain.

  “Don’t do it, dude,” the other baseball player cautioned as soon as Garth went to the door.

  He glanced at the boy. “That’s my friend. She needs help.”

  “She’s gonna die,” the kid said fearfully.

  When he stormed outside, the gangsters were already on the run toward McDonald’s. One carried the sack of cash like a little laundry bag while the other followed. They wove in and out of cars in the drive-through lane, then went around the building, out of his field of view.

  He sprinted over to Lydia, who remained outside the cab.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Lydia watched the men run too, but when she saw Garth, she pulled him in for a big hug. “Yes. I’m glad you’re here. Those two men jumped into your tack-see and tried to drive it away, but they seemed to have trouble starting it. They asked me for help, but I didn’t know anything, so they pushed me out. Then we all had that red zapping feeling, and they left your car screaming.”

  Two goons from the 1920s apparently had no idea how to operate a modern vehicle. It had taken him a few tries when he had started it in Sam’s backyard, too, until he figured out he needed to put his foot on the brakes to get the motor to turn over.

  He had only himself to blame for even giving them a chance to steal his ride. Garth had left the keys in the ignition because it didn’t occur to him someone would jump in, but that was one more box to tick off his safety list in the future.

  “They stole money from the store and from some of us customers,” Garth added. “They pointed guns at us, and made us lay on the floor so they could escape.” He squeezed her tight after realizing her closeness made his warp-speed heartbeat decelerate back to normal.

  “Did they get your money?”

  He laughed, finally feeling safe. “No, but they took my wallet and phone. I keep my money in this little pocket.” He pointed to the tiny pouch of his jeans above his right-front pocket. “My friend Sam taught me to keep my big bills in there because the pick-pockets on the subway couldn’t get their grubby fingers inside. So far, it’s worked like a charm.”

  “Your friend Sam sounds very wise,” she said with awe.

  “Wise? I guess he’s wise in his own way. Most of his knowledge goes to getting into trouble, however. He loves to goof off.”

  “You mean play?”

  “Yeah. Goof. Play. But always in a good way. He’s a good guy.” He wondered where Sam and his parents were at that moment.

  Garth stood there with Lydia while other patrons came out of the store and got into their cars. He fully expected the police to show up at any minute, and he wanted to be out of there in case they wondered how he had ended up with the stolen taxi.

  “We’ve got a full tank of gas, two hundred dollars, and a thousand miles ahead of us. You ready?”

  She pulled away but stood close. “Two hundred dollars? You truly are John Jacob Astor. My pa worked his whole life to save enough for a yoke of oxen and a wagon, and it wasn’t that much. He would have guarded it with his life. Here you are with an even larger amount in your pocket.”

  Her green eyes shimmered, and for a moment he reveled in how she looked up to him, but he couldn’t pretend to be rich.

  “Remind me to explain inflation to you. I learned about it in school. Basically, two hundred bucks isn’t that much money today. I couldn’t buy a yoke of oxen or a wagon with this money. In fact, I don’t even know if it will be enough to get us where we need to go.”

  He realized he’d need to cut back on the McDonald’s, Mountain Dew, and other treats. The only priority was gas to get him to his dad.

  “All right, saddle up.” He stepped back, intending to go around the car, but she wasn’t moving.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Why did you say that? We have no horses.”

  Garth smiled. “It’s an expression. I guess it comes from your time, actually. It means we need to get in our car, and make like a tree and leave.”

  Her puzzled look continued. “A tree?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s another expression. I swear I’m not trying to confuse you. It’s the way I talk. We really do need to get out of here.”

  After thinking about it, her eyes lit up. “Because a tree has leaves! I understand.”

  She was laughing hard by the time they were both in their seats.

  “We’ve got to be close to Interstate 64, then we don’t stop until we reach my dad.”

  He sped out of the gas station.

  “We’ve got to find him before he becomes a tree and leaves.”

  She’s trying.

  They shared a laugh, content for a moment to be alive.

  I-80, Cheyenne, Wyoming

  Buck expected to black out the entire time he headed for Cheyenne. He talked a good game to Connie, and he hoped his plan of keeping the rig on cruise control would work, but he feared it wouldn’t be enough. When he saw the Welcome to Cheyenne billboard, he let out a huge sigh.

  “We made it,” he declared.

  Connie had been studying the atlas, but when she looked up and saw the sign, she reached over and held his arm. “Good driving, bucko. You got us here.”

  “Thanks. Now all we have to do is get beyond this upcoming interchange.” I-25 and I-80 met a couple of miles ahead, and the news reports said 25 was closing down from Cheyenne to Fort Collins, which was inside the zone already closed off north of Denver.

  Buck got on the CB. “We’re going into Cheyenne. Look alive, people.”

  Connie tapped the glass of her window, pointing outside. “I’m so sick of this grass. Isn’t there anything interesting in this entire state?”

  The patchy green grass went from horizon to horizon. There were a few antelopes eating near the fence line of the highway, and far to the south he glimpsed the peaks of the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, but between those two features, there was absolutely nothing.

  “Up north you get mountains and cool stuff like Yellowstone, but down here, no. It’s boring as hell. But don’t worry,” he added with thick sarcasm, “we’ll get much more of this in Nebraska.”

  “Ugh. I always thought Wyoming was high adventure and big mountains.”

  “Every state has its flaws,” he replied.

  “Not New Mexico,” she insisted. “It has mountains, deserts, caves, and wonderful forests. It basically has everything.”

  He risked a glance to see her joy at thinking about her state. She caught him looking and smiled.

  “We’re here,” he said, changing the subject.

  The north-south I-25 highway crossed I-80 on a pair of bridges above them. Police cars blocked the on-ramp, so he couldn’t have gone south on the other highway even if he wanted to.

  “Looks like we can go right under it,” he explained. “I was worried they’d want to block traffic down here, too. So they wouldn’t be seen.”

  “Why would it matter?” she wondered.

  “If we knew what was going south…” As soon as he said it, he had a new thought.

  He scrambled for the CB as they drove past the black police cruiser. “Guys, I need you to keep going to Sidney, Nebraska. That’s our stop point for tonight. I, uh, have to make a quick pit stop under this bridge, but I’m not out of service.”

  “10-4, Buck,” Sparky replied. “Eve and I will hold a parking spot for you at the truck stop.”

  Monsignor jumped on when he could. “I’ll see you there, too. You’ve gotten us through some tight scrapes. Glad to return the favor and save you a spot.”

  “Thanks, guys,” he answered.

  Buck applied the brakes and pulled to the shoulder of the highway, then guided the truck under the bridge carrying the southbound lanes of I-25. He continued on, parking under the bridge for the northbound lanes of the other highway.

  “Buck? I see the look in your eyes. You’re excited about something.”

  He put his finger over his lips. “Shh. We’re
going Marine Recon for a minute. You get Mac on a leash and get him to do his business. I’m putting out some triangles.”

  The evening air was cool, especially in the shade under the bridge. While Connie dutifully walked Big Mac around, he placed three orange warning triangles about a hundred yards behind his trailer so other drivers wouldn’t run into him.

  To any onlooker, he had broken down.

  He and Connie rejoined after both their tasks were complete. Buck got down on one knee and gave his pup a vigorous head and neck scratch. “You’re a good boy. Yes, you are!”

  Mac leaned against him, wanting more.

  Cars and trucks sped under the bridge, but traffic was light for the most part. He listened as he gave Mac more loving.

  “What are we waiting for?” Connie asked after realizing Buck wasn’t getting up.

  “Vehicles up above,” he said quietly. “They just closed the highway up there, which probably means something is about to go by.”

  “And you want to see what it is,” she declared with skepticism.

  “We’re here, so I figured it was worth a look. Aren’t you the least bit interested to see why they closed the highway up and down the whole state?”

  She considered it. Another big rig flew by, blowing her hair almost sideways on her head, but once it was gone, the underpass became quiet.

  Not long after, there was a distinct rumbling on the roadway above them.

  “There! I was right. Those bastards are coming through right now.”

  “Who is it?”

  He stood and took her hand. “Let’s find out.”

  Together, the three of them went up the concrete incline and came out between the parallel bridges of Interstate 25. The northbound lanes were empty in both directions, and the southbound lanes were empty to the south, but a line of vehicles was coming over the bridge, heading south as they got up there.

  “Got ya!” he bragged.

  “What the hell is that thing in the front?” she asked.

  The lead vehicle was a six-wheeled military monstrosity. It was painted desert tan, had the aerodynamics of a shipping container, and had a crane-arm on top of the superstructure. Its huge knobby tires purred on the pavement as it crossed the bridge.