Minus America Box Set | Books 1-5

by Isherwood, E. E.

  Ted raised his scoped rifle to see who they were.

  “Marines,” he remarked, “though one of them is wearing jeans, like a civilian.”

  “Maybe they’re imposters,” she replied. Emily sat with her back against the fence, re-adjusting the ammo pouch on her hip to keep it in place.

  He spent thirty seconds trying to figure out what they were doing, but they were too far away to see any detail. However, they were small in frame and he soon figured out both were women. It didn’t bother him, but it did seem highly unusual that two women Marines would be alone in the park like this.

  “What are you doing?” he quietly asked the Marines.

  The whomping of rotor blades alerted him to a new possibility. The pair was hiding in thick foliage exactly as he and Emily were doing. They kept looking back toward the building where the black vans were parked. And, perhaps most significantly, they were next to a large field where a helo might be able to touch down.

  “That’s our way out,” he said with an ah-ha tone.

  Amarillo, TX

  In the first two seconds of the gunfight, Brent witnessed Curtis get a hole drilled in his skull, and he watched helplessly as the dead man’s shotgun roared. It had been pointed slightly to Brent’s right, so the slug went somewhere else. He didn’t care, as long as it wasn’t at him.

  Brent then moved on instinct alone. He dove and pushed Trish under the little kitchen table as both sides of the dispute opened fire. Because they’d all been packed into the narrow trailer, there wasn’t much they could do to find cover.

  “Stop!” he yelled into the hailstorm of thunder and bullets.

  Men screamed. Cursed. Crouched behind furniture or tried to retreat deeper into the trailer. A couple of Curtis’s guys crumpled to the floor, though one of his men in the orange jumpsuits howled in the family room.

  Trish held her ears and screamed. He understood why. She was young and at home. The sudden violence ripped her out of that fantasy faster than she could handle.

  “You’re fine!” he pleaded.

  Brent caught sight of Paul, incredulous that he was still on his feet. He shouted to him. “Get down!”

  The long-haired man appeared shell-shocked after accidentally shooting the other guy.

  Paul slowly wheeled around, and his eyes flashed recognition at Brent’s words, but a pair of holes opened up in his chest. He fell back at the force of being double-tapped.

  Brent suffered a flashback to Vietnam as he watched the kitchen floor fill up with bodies and blood. It was something he never dreamed he’d see on home soil, and certainly not while he cowered under a table. Though he didn’t have a weapon, the carnage spurred him to action.

  First, he tipped over the table, angling the top toward the men who had tried to harm Trish. Then he grabbed her wrist to get her attention. “We have to move!”

  She’d been beaten by the men; red bruises flared up on her cheeks. He understood, but she needed to get out of there or they’d both end up dead.

  A chunk of table exploded next to his head. Because it was a round surface, their feet gave them away as still being behind it.

  He looked at his men, hopeful one of them would lay down suppressive fire for him, but none of them were focused on him or Trish. They fired blindly into the kitchen, which only served as evidence he needed to risk an escape.

  “Behind me!” he crawled toward the living room.

  The bones in his knees rubbed together like daggers under the skin. He hadn’t needed to move this fast since the 1990s, and two days ago he would have thought his days of haste were behind him.

  Trish stuck with him, though he had no idea how she was able to see through her tears. The closer they got to his men, the more she cried out. Perhaps because the intense fire of the shotgun barrels was only a foot or two over their heads.

  A man screamed in agony from the kitchen.

  Another man fell against the oven. Pots and pans tumbled to the floor.

  Someone shot out the fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling panels, and they exploded all over the kitchen floor. It seemed like an eternity while all this took place, but Brent and Trish made it behind the sofa after a short crawl of less than twenty feet.

  His old heart paced along at maximum speed, causing his breathing to get difficult to control. He couldn’t even speak.

  Trish glanced up at him but said nothing, either.

  The shotgun bursts continued for another ten or fifteen seconds, then they all stopped as if given a signal. None of Curtis’s guys fired back.

  “Brent!” a man’s voice echoed from far away.

  He peeked out from the side of the couch.

  “Brent. Boss man! You made it.” It was a man named Carter; a middle-aged bald white guy who was in for supposedly burning down his family business.

  “We did?” He sat there for a minute gathering his wits. One more shotgun blast interrupted the calm, then…nothing.

  He got up when his five remaining guys stood in the living room without fear of being shot in return. A couple went into the kitchen, but Carter helped him and Trish to their feet. “You’re lucky, pops, we were ready for anything. You almost bought the farm.”

  He wondered if all the shooting had been necessary. Did the others even know it was started by a damned broom handle? Did it matter?

  A man called out from the kitchen. “We got them all. Mission accomplished.”

  One of his people plopped down on the couch. “Thank God. That was some of the craziest stuff I’ve ever seen. We almost effing died!”

  Other men joined him, and a small celebration broke out.

  Brent looked into the kitchen only once to confirm the others were dead. Several of the escaped men had fallen to the floor there, though a couple of the others were cut down in the hallway.

  Paul was the only allied fatality. Two of his other men had been grazed by shots but were otherwise fine.

  Carter shuffled over and handed back his shotgun. “Here you go, Pops. Sorry we ever took it away from you. It seemed like it was the easiest way to get in. It was Paul’s idea…”

  “No, you did the right thing.” He wasn’t certain of the truth of his own statement, but he figured he would have been dead a lot sooner if he’d gone in with his attitude and a shotgun. Their attack on Trish had made him a bit crazy.

  All the death tempered that haughty image.

  “Let’s get back home, boys. Get you patched up. And we’re taking Trish back, too. From now on, she’s under our protection. Got it?”

  The five men nodded.

  The trial by fire was over.

  CHAPTER 25

  New York City, NY

  The Seahawk helicopter flew by, almost on its side as it swooped away from the impact of the missile strike. Kyla wiped away a sheet of sweat from her forehead and expected all hope of rescue was gone, but Meechum pulled out the handheld radio.

  “Longbow, this is Pocahontas. We’re close to the designated LZ. How copy? Over?”

  The radio was static for a few seconds before the pilot came on. “I’m taking fire!”

  Meechum appeared pissed and raised the radio to her mouth, but the pilot kept talking. “I’ll stay here as long as I can, Pocahontas. Pop smoke when you see me coming over your position. Out.”

  The Marine spent time looking out at the trees and fields, and Kyla could only guess what the other woman was thinking. However, vehicle motors came from the streets nearby, though it was hard to say where they were.

  “Move out,” Meechum whispered. “That way.”

  She followed the Marine as best she could, but Kyla was ready to fall over dead. The miles-long jog through the city was all her desk-friendly body could stand. More running seemed like an insult to her heart, but she refused to complain to the tough Marine, knowing it would do no good.

  “Just keep running,” she mumbled to herself.

  Meechum chuckled. “I loved Finding Nemo.”

  “You?” Kyla huffed. “You like
kids’ movies? I never would have guessed.”

  They crossed a walking path and came to a clump of trees before stopping.

  “I’m a Marine, not a monster. Everyone loves Finding Nemo. It’s a classic. What’s more powerful than a father fighting to get his son back?”

  Kyla wondered about her own situation. Was Uncle Ted really coming for her? She had to get back to the ship; it was the only place he would look.

  They stayed in those bushes until the black vans pulled up in front of the building that had been attacked by the missile. Men got out who looked like they were dressed to be assassins. All-black outfits with black ball caps. They also had big black rifles, which were visible even from a hundred yards away.

  “Who are those guys?” she asked Meechum.

  “They might be mercenaries. Or a rogue department of the government. Hell, they could be TSA for all I know.”

  “Can we trust them? Maybe we could—”

  Meechum shushed her. “No, none of this is right. Our mission is to get on that helo and get back to the JFK.”

  “But we didn’t find any survivors,” Kyla said sadly. If they’d found anyone alive, she might have risked going to look for her mom, but every civilian they’d come across since Battery Park had been disintegrated. She didn’t want to see Mom’s clothes to prove anything. It was better to remember her as she was.

  “Hang tight, dudette. Those guys are going into the building. I don’t think they know we’re even here. Besides—”

  As she spoke, a gunfight broke out between the men at the vans and someone down a side street.

  Meechum watched through the leaves. “What the hell? Who are they shooting at?”

  Kyla stuck her head up, hoping to make sense of it, but there were too many wrecked cars in the street to see who was back there. However, a couple of the men in black fell like they’d been shot. That got the rest of the guys running for cover and aiming at the culprits.

  “Come on, we have to get away from here, in case they sweep this way.”

  The distraction gave her a false sense of security as she followed the Marine deeper into the park. The whine of aircraft engines above suggested the bad guys were still up there, though the rotor whomps of their rescue Seahawk were still out there, too. The battle wasn’t over by a long shot.

  It took them about ten minutes to wind through the tree-lined paths and well-manicured hedges toward a large field. Meechum kept them running along the edge, which was fine with Kyla. There were strollers, beach towels, and volleyball nets out there. They were the last things those people ever did in the field, and she wanted to stay far away from their memories.

  Eventually, they came to a thicket of underbrush that Meechum found attractive. “We’ll halt here. They can’t see us from that direction, but we can see the landing zone.” She pulled out the radio.

  “Longbow, do we have time to find a better LZ? Over.” After keying off the handset, Meechum turned to her. “I’d love to be far away from those men and that building.”

  “Negative. It’s now or never. I’m making one more pass. Out.”

  “Damn,” Meechum whispered. “Roger that,” she said into the handset.

  Kyla kept watch, though she wanted nothing more than to lay down in the green mass of leaves and take a nap. The gunfire had tapered off to nothing, though the planes still circled around, as if continuing the search.

  “He’s coming, right?” she asked when Meechum tucked the radio away.

  “Last pass. He’s at the far end of the park right now. We have to be ready when he comes back.” She pulled out a cylinder from her backpack. “Smoke.”

  Kyla nodded.

  The afternoon suddenly became almost pleasant, like a cloud had passed. A bumblebee flew in some clover nearby. A bird chirped in the trees above. If she blotted out the sounds of the planes, she could imagine walking out to one of those blankets and spending the whole afternoon in the sunshine. It wasn’t unlike what she and Mom had done in the past…

  A piece of tree bark snapped off a tree about ten feet away.

  “Look sharp!” Meechum screamed. “They’ve found us.”

  The Marine brought her rifle to her shoulder, then she squeezed off three quick shots. She did it one more time before ducking back behind her tree trunk.

  Kyla was unable to catch her breath. Part of it was from the run there, but now her fear stole all her remaining energy. More snaps of bullets tore up the mulch next to a walking path and bit into the shrubs all around her.

  “He’s on the way!” Meechum leaned from her spot and shot some more. “Got one!”

  Kyla didn’t want to put herself in danger but knew she couldn’t squat in the shrubs while Meechum did all the work. “Come on, you can do this,” she told herself. She raised her pistol and held it to her chest like it might get away.

  Motion caught her eye in the trees to the right. A figure strode forward, his black rifle raised as if looking for targets.

  There was no time to call for help or even to hide. The man seemed to point the gun at Meechum, who was in front of her.

  Kyla raised the pistol and aimed along the sights exactly as Meechum showed her. She exhaled slowly and did her best not to move the whole gun, weapon, as she’d been trained.

  The blast no longer scared the crap out of her. She flinched as it popped, but her aim was true. Though she couldn’t see where the bullet went in, the man fell backward.

  She was ready to brag she’d got one, but more were coming…

  New York City, NY

  Ted and Emily snuck through the trees toward the two Marines. The closer he got, the more he liked their chances of escaping the city. The two women were on the far side of Central Park, next to a huge field. He and Emily were on the near side of the field, which was more of a forest. If they could get around to the far side, the Seahawk could come in and extract him with the Marines, and the bad guys would never have a chance of catching them.

  “Ted, I thought we were dead back there. I won’t lie to you.”

  “Which time?” he mused. “This city was supposed to be empty, but boy was I wrong.”

  “They keep appearing wherever we go. Do you think that’s a coincidence?”

  “Maybe we need to go into flyover country. Indianapolis or Oklahoma City. They can’t be there, too. Right now, I’ll settle for reaching those two ladies and asking them for a lift.”

  The Seahawk’s rotor buzz kept getting closer, suggesting there was no time to waste. He ran as fast as he dared along the edge of the field, but he was forced to stop when the Marine woman shot into the woods.

  “Dammit, those guys in black are everywhere. They’ve already moved into the park!”

  Emily stopped behind a patch of ivy hanging from a tree. “Can we help the two Marines?”

  Ted scanned the scene through his scope. He and Emily didn’t get all the men to chase them. Some had come down from the street where they’d parked their vans and had infiltrated the woods on the other side of the field. The fully-dressed Marine fired multiple times at some of the men creeping toward them, then side-armed a silver object into the field. Red smoke belched out a second later.

  “Yes,” he said dryly. “We can give them a chance.”

  The helicopter was close.

  New York City, NY

  Kyla squeezed off another shot into the woods, but the man she’d aimed at did not fall with a satisfying thunk. Instead, he hid behind the trunk of a tree.

  “Crap!” she shouted in anger at missing him.

  The man leaned out, ready to return fire, but his face exploded with blood, soaking the tree before he fell. She’d been prepared to fire her gun, so she shot it once on accident before retreating behind her own tree.

  Meechum wasn’t even looking in her direction, so she couldn’t square the logic of who’d shot the encroaching man.

  A second guy wasn’t far behind the first. Someone shot out his knee, forcing him to scramble behind a larger tree trunk
. Then he screamed in pain at the top of his lungs.

  “We have help!” Kyla yelled toward Meechum.

  The other woman had been busy; she’d tossed a red smoke grenade into the field. She crouched by her tree with her rifle draped over her legs, but she was on the radio. “Longbow, do you see us?”

  The radio was loud enough for Kyla to hear. “Wait one!”

  Meechum screamed. “We don’t have any time. They’re on our position!”

  A bullet struck the end of Meechum’s rifle, causing it to jerk back on her lap. Kyla didn’t think the woman even noticed, or, if she did, she didn’t care.

  Another rifle crack caught her attention, this time from across the field. It came from the far side. A civilian man and woman hunkered near bushes over there. Much too far for her to hit with her pistol.

  “Meech…” she said with fear.

  Oddly, the man lowered his rifle and waved at her. He made finger guns and somehow, she figured out he was pointing behind her, where the guys had been shot.

  It was the person shooting the attackers with her.

  She waved back.

  The man motioned to the sky over and over.

  She shrugged.

  Meechum was on the radio seemingly arguing with the pilot, so Kyla was left in a weird space all by herself. The injured man continued to scream behind her, but that way appeared clear for now.

  “Pocahontas, keep your head down. I have a crap ton of firepower coming your way. You have to clear the hot zone. Over.”

  “Bombs?” Kyla wondered aloud. She looked over to the two people who’d saved her life. “Meechum, tell them not to hit that side.” She pointed. “There are two survivors from the city, I think.”

  The Marine glanced over to where she indicated, but the red smoke was obscuring most of the field close by.

  “Longbow, we’re ready for exfil. Be advised, enemy is along south edge of park.”

  Kyla hoped that didn’t include the two helpers, though the pair wasn’t close to the southern boundary. She’d meant to clarify with Meechum, but the woman was already shooting again.

  Then the helicopter practically dropped on top of them. It came down from behind the trees and brushed away all the smoke in seconds.