by Payne, T. L.
Will hoped Stephens was right, but he wasn’t willing to stick around and find out. “I understand you need to do what you need to do, Stephens, but I need to protect my son. Tell me where he is.”
“He’s at NASA.”
Relief washed over Will. He knew where to find his son. All he had to do now was get there and get him the hell away from the city.
“Are the buildings secured? How can you be sure he’s safe?” Will asked.
“It has a heavy security presence. I didn’t think it would be a target of the insurgents.”
Will attempted to plan the route in his mind. He’d never taken back streets to get there. It could take an hour to walk it.
“I’ll help you to the hangar, but you need to get me a vehicle to go for my son,” Will said.
“Deal.”
Twenty-Five
Will
Day Six
“Bravo two-three. This is Alpha two-six. How copy? Over,” crackled over Hollingsworth’s radio.
“Alpha two-six. I read you, Lima Charlie. Over.”
“We’re moving around to the southeast side of the building. Can you make it to that southeast exit by the restaurant? Over.”
“Alpha two-six, affirmative. We’ll meet you at the southeast exit. Bravo two-three out.”
“Will, grab Betley’s left arm. I’ll get his right,” Stephens said. “We’re going to be moving quickly, so try your best to lift your feet, Betley.”
In order to reach the rendezvous point, the group had to pass through the Waltrip Hangar with its displays of the B-17 Flying Fortress, a North American B-25, and P-47 Thunderbolt, all relics of a bygone era. Will wondered if their modern cars, planes, and ships would become no more than junk heaps sitting idle for years with nature claiming them like in the dystopian movies he’d seen.
How closely would this apocalypse resemble the fictitious ones depicted in books and movies? Would their lives now be like the Walking Dead, but without the zombies? The thought of his son growing up in a world like that renewed the boiling rage inside him. He hated the people who had brought this down on the city and the nation. It was hard to stay positive when he thought about the struggle they would face even after escaping the city. He questioned whether he was even up to the task. He knew one thing for sure, he’d fight until his last breath to give Cayden the life he deserved and make sure he had a fighting chance at something resembling normalcy. Was he kidding himself? Anything resembling normal was a long way off.
They exited near the Aviation Learning Center and made their way down the corridor toward the orientation hall. As they passed the arrival hall, Will got a view of the interior damage to the front of the building made by the RPGs and mortar fire. The multi-story building’s glass windows were gone. In its place was a pile of twisted metal and glass.
The gunfire sounded closer now. Will hoped that the team that had been sent to collect them had enough ammo to resupply him. He didn’t like the prospect of crossing the open ground to the hangars without being able to defend himself. Not that he could do much while holding on to Betley.
As the group hurried past the Heritage Hangar and headed toward the flight academy, the sound of the gunfire faded. Will spotted soldiers standing in the doorway of the southeast exit—only two. He didn’t think that would be near enough to take on the group of insurgents. Will’s stomach tightened. He just wanted all this to be over. He’d had enough of fighting and death. He tried not to think about what they’d face after leaving Houston. He could only hope that things weren’t as bad away from the city.
Texans were generally good people. The rest of Texas, away from the big cities, was filled with hardworking, salt of the earth folks that loved their country and helped their neighbors. Those were the people he hoped they’d find on the journey. It was also those people he believed they’d find in Louisiana. Will tried to imagine building a life there instead of focusing on the horrors that awaited them outside the museum.
“It took you long enough,” Hollingsworth said as he lined up behind the new soldiers.
“You should be grateful that Lieutenant Sharp ordered us to come to save your ass,” the stockier of the two soldiers said.
Will noticed he wore a different uniform to Hollingsworth and recalled that Ellington was home to all the military branches. This man’s blue uniform with USCG written across his vest told Will he was with the United States Coast Guard. Even though they were in different branches, their familiarity with one another made it obvious they’d met and worked together before all this.
“How’s it going along the wall, Bardonkey?” Hollingsworth asked.
“My name is Bordonski, and it’s a damn shit show out there. They’re lobbing Molotovs and shit at us as well as RPGs and mortars.”
“Let’s go, puddle pirate,” the second soldier said.
Bordonski flipped him the bird and pivoted to face the door. “Eat shit, Santos.”
“What’s the condition of the southern perimeter?” Stephens asked as they approached.
“They seem to be concentrating their efforts on the north and west sides of the base at the moment. Company B took out a group of four heading south,” Bordonski said over his shoulder.
“We need to move,” Santos barked.
“We need more ammo,” Hollingsworth said.
“Santos, you got any 5.56?” Bordonski called out.
Santos stepped into the doorway. “I’ve got two mags,” he said, holding the ammunition out to Hollingsworth.
“Can I get one of those?” Will asked.
Somewhat reluctantly, Hollingsworth handed him one of the thirty round magazines. Will didn’t blame him for his hesitation. Will was inexperienced with automatic weapons, and he’d wasted a lot of ammo so far. He was determined to be more careful.
“Isabella, you go first, and then Stephens, Betley, and… I forgot your name?” Hollingsworth said.
“Will.”
“Stephens, you got Betley? I need Will’s help watching our six.”
Will released Betley’s arm and stood beside Hollingsworth as Stephens and Betley followed Isabella and Bordonski out the door. A refreshing breeze hit Will in the face as he stepped outside. The building had been stifling hot, but he’d barely noticed until now. The sun beat down on them as the others ran south across the parking lot toward another row of military vehicles. Hollingsworth and Will remained near the building, with Hollingsworth watching for hostiles to their left and Will scanning to their right. When the others disappeared between vehicles, Hollingsworth tapped Will on the shoulder, and the two took off after them.
They were within ten feet of the row of vehicles when the shots rang out. Hollingsworth shoved Will to the ground seconds before several rounds hit the Humvee to Will’s right. The pinging noise it made caused Will’s butt to pucker. He and Hollingsworth crawled between the vehicles and waited for the firing to stop. When it did, Hollingsworth stood to a crouch, placed his rifle on the bumper, and fired several rounds.
“Go!” he shouted.
Will ran, trying to locate the others but saw no one in the maze of vehicles.
Seconds later, Hollingsworth appeared at Will’s side. “Keep moving. That way,” he said, pointing to the end of the row twenty-five feet ahead.
Will ran in that direction but kept peering between vehicles for Isabella and the others. He didn’t like getting separated from the rest of the group. “Where are the others?” he asked as he ran alongside Hollingsworth.
“They know where they’re going.” That was all he would say.
“We need to catch up to them.”
“We need to not get flanked by those assholes shooting at us first.”
Hollingsworth turned south before reaching the end of the row and ran between vehicles to the parking lot’s edge. Ahead was an open field, and beyond that were rows of airplane hangars. Isabella and the others were nowhere in sight. They had to still be within the maze of trucks and Humvees.
“Shi
t!” Hollingsworth cursed. He pressed the button of the radio attached to his vest as he turned back toward the parking lot. Before he could speak, a barrage of gunfire erupted.
“Alpha two-six. What is your position?” Hollingsworth yelled into his mic.
They ran toward the gunfire, but it was hard for Will to pinpoint where it all was coming from.
“Alpha two-six!”
No response came.
“Alpha two-seven,” Hollingsworth radioed. “Santos!”
“Bravo two-three. Bravo two-three. We’re on the northeast corner of the parking lot, taking heavy fire. We’ve got at least a dozen advancing from the northwest corner of Building F. There are more making their way across from the front. Two-six is down surgical.”
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Hollingsworth said, pacing back and forth.
“Alpha one-niner. This is Bravo two-three. How copy? Over.”
Will didn’t hear a reply from Alpha one-niner.
“Will, we’re going to head down the row. I’m going to take the rear of the vehicles. You stay in the aisle and move from vehicle to vehicle. Call out if you see anything. We have to get to them before those reinforcements do.”
“Alpha one-niner. This is Bravo two-three. Alpha two-six is down surgical in the southeast parking lot of Building F. We need a litter and transport to the aid station. Over.”
Will still didn’t hear a reply. He hoped Hollingsworth did. If he didn’t, that meant they were in a lot of trouble. His mind imagined the worst, conjuring images from all the war movies he’d ever watched. Scenes from films like Lone Survivor and 12 Strong made his knees nearly buckle. It had looked like hell on earth, and they’d had the ability to call in air support. What hope did he and this group have?
“Eleven o’clock. Eleven o’clock. Fall back! Fall back!” Hollingsworth yelled, chopping the air with his hand. Will stood there, unsure who he was talking to.
“Fall back, Will. Four hostiles advancing on my eleven o’clock.”
Will pivoted and ducked between two Humvees. “Where are the others?” Will yelled as Hollingsworth came into view.
A moment later, Will heard one of the Humvees start. His first thought was why in the hell hadn’t they taken one in the first place. Going on foot had been like a suicide mission.
“There,” Hollingsworth said, pointing.
Will took a step toward the vehicle seconds before hearing the thud, thud, thud sound of the Humvee’s .50 caliber turret-mounted weapon. Someone was unleashing a barrage of firepower on the advancing enemy. He shifted to his left to see if he could tell who was doing the shooting. Betley spun the turret clockwise to engage a group coming at them from the front of the museum. Will prayed that Isabella and Stephens were in the Humvee and not pinned down somewhere out in the open. He strained to see inside but could see nothing more from his position.
The Humvee rolled forward a few feet before coming to a stop, and Betley opened fire again. He must have fired over a hundred rounds. Yet the insurgents still returned fire from their positions behind a row of small steel box containers.
“Alpha one-niner. This is Bravo two-three. We are taking heavy fire from multiple locations along the northern parking lot of building F. Bluebird one’s location is unknown. Bluebird two is returning fire with the fifty cal. Over.”
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Rounds struck the truck in front of Will, causing him to have to hunker down between vehicles. He felt powerless to help Isabella and Stephens wherever they were.
“Can you see them?” Will asked.
“We have a group at our two o’clock and eleven o’clock.”
“No. Isabella and Stephens.”
“Negative.”
“We have to find them,” Will said.
“We’re pinned down. We’ve got hostiles less than fifty meters. If we move left, we’ll be in their line of fire. Betley is engaging with a group advancing from the front parking lot.”
“Is help on the way?”
Hollingsworth shook his head. “I couldn’t raise anyone on the radio.”
Panic crawled up Will’s spine and threatened to seize him by the throat. He swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath. If they were on their own, he needed to be clear-headed. All he could think of was he may never get to tell Cayden how sorry he was and how much he loved him. He should have said that to him that every day. How would he make it without his parents? Regret filled Will. He wasn’t ready to die. He’d made a promise to Melanie to take care of their son. It had been her dying wish. Never had he thought that helping two women in distress would lead to all this? How could he have known?
If he hadn’t rushed in and pulled Isabella from her burning car, he and Cayden would be safe at the lake house—but Isabella would be dead. Would she die anyway? Would they all be killed in the enemy’s fight to take Houston? Will clenched his jaw. Not if he could help it. He’d fight and keep on fighting for as long as it took. He had no other choice.
“Peel back. Peel back—they’re flanking. We can’t let them get behind us,” Hollingsworth yelled. He continued firing as he moved back toward Will. Hollingsworth fired around the front bumper, dropping a man dressed in dark-colored street clothes.
Will wasn’t sure how he would tell who were friendlies and who were hostiles. Then the man pulled himself upright onto one knee and attempted to lift his weapon into firing position. Will fired multiple rounds before remembering he needed to conserve ammo.
“How much ammo do you have?” Hollingsworth asked.
Will patted his chest, looking for spare magazines. He pulled an empty from a pouch and held it out. “Just what I got in my rifle.”
“Shit! Shit! Shit!”
Hollingsworth pulled a magazine from a side pocket of his tactical pants and tossed it to Will as they continued to move south down through the parking lot, weaving in and out between vehicles. Hollingsworth opened the doors of each of the Humvees they passed, each time cursing loudly as he slammed them shut.
“What the hell? Why is there no ammo in these? Geesh!”
At the end of the row were more twenty-foot-long steel shipping containers. Will wondered how the military had moved all that equipment there so quickly after the EMP and then remembered the long convoy he’d seen on the bridge that day. It appeared they had all this equipment but not enough people to fight back a few insurgents. Was it just a few? He’d seen at least fifty. How many more were fighting to get past the checkpoints and over the walls?
Hollingsworth ran to the nearest shipping container and yanked on the handle. “Shit!” he screamed. He fired at the lock, causing sparks to fly, but the lock held.
“Alpha one-niner. Alpha one-niner. We are pinned down, taking heavy fire from multiple locations. We need immediate extraction. Bluebird one is in the wind. I repeat Bluebird one is in the wind. Over.”
Almost immediately, the radio crackled to life. “Bravo two-three. Secure Bluebird one and hold your position. Echo Team is heading your way.”
Will could barely make out what the man was saying over the sound of constant gunfire and explosions on his end. They must have been in one hell of a battle themselves.
“We need to locate Stephens and get her inside the building,” Hollingsworth said.
Will felt comfortable with that plan. They could barricade the doors and move to the middle of the building.
“You ready?”
Will nodded.
“Let’s move up.”
Twenty-Six
Will
Day Six
Will was surprised when Hollingsworth took the time to drop beside the enemy combatant and pat him down. Will stole quick glances as he concentrated on firing over the top of the hood of one of the Humvee’s nearest the man.
“Got it. Let’s go,” Hollingsworth yelled, holding up two magazines of ammunition.
Will scooped up the man’s rifle as he ran by him. Hollingsworth made a quick right and disappeared between vehicles. Will’s stomach flip
-flopped for a second before he made the turn himself and spotted Hollingsworth scanning the opposite aisle between rows. He chopped the air and ran across the open space. Will held his breath and took off after him, surprised when he made it to the relative safety of the next row of vehicles without being shot.
“How are we going to locate them?” Will asked. If they were smart, they would be well concealed—even from them.
“Stephens,” Hollingsworth shouted.
A second later, Will spotted the top of Stephens’ head poking above the hood of one of the Humvees five or six vehicles away. Relief washed over him. He started to rush towards her, but Hollingsworth held out his arm to stop him.
“Pull security,” he said, pointing back to their south.
“What?”
“Watch my back,” he said as he slowly moved closer to Stephens.
All Will wanted to do was rush to Isabella and get the hell back inside the museum, but he held his position and watched for movement in the fields between the parking lot and the hangars.
Seconds seemed like hours as he waited for some signal from Hollingsworth to join him. Will spotted Stephens and Isabella emerging from between the vehicles flanked by two other soldiers. He pivoted his head slightly to make sure Isabella wasn’t injured. She looked terrified as Stephens wrapped an arm around her shoulder and they took off toward the building. A round whizzed past Will and then another. He kept his eyes on Isabella and Stephens as he dove for cover, praying that they somehow made it to safety. He popped up and begun returning fire on several insurgents. They were firing at them over top of a low wall at the south end of the building. Hollingsworth dropped down beside him, and he too opened up on their location.
“What a shit show,” he yelled over the reports of the rifles.