“It means it had to be an energy weapon of some sort, right? What else could have penetrated some decks, even if it didn’t get through all of them?” He’d had a little time to think through various scenarios, but it was the first time he had confirmation of how the survivors made it through the assault. “And how would you deliver a nationwide, uh, zapper?”
“Beats me. I work with everything from a knife up to a Javelin anti-tank missile, but they never told us anything like this existed.”
“It exists,” he said matter-of-factly. “At some point, we’re going to have to figure out how they did it, then take it out. They’ve threatened other nations—”
“I know. We operate a secret shortwave radio and have been keeping track of friendlies all over the world. It’s a shitstorm, though. Several EU countries have already pushed out every American they could find. The Middle East, too.”
“What about Great Britain?” he interjected. Though she’d become little more than a casual acquaintance, he had no ill feelings for his ex-wife. She was stationed in the UK, at least for the time being.
“I think they’re fine,” she replied.
It dawned on him how big the war had become since Meechum and Kyla arrived. Now he knew a little about the actual attack, he’d been alerted to the necessity of taking Emily out west to a missile base, and he’d been warned about terrorists possibly taking over an aircraft carrier. He even knew how the enemy was communicating. If they could get Emily and Kyla to show up, he’d be well on his way to mounting the first counterattack—a role he relished.
Come on, Kyla, make it back to me.
Highway in Illinois
“Move!” Tabby shouted. She guesstimated where the Subaru was going to land, then lunged away with as much thrust as her legs would give her.
“Yee-ow!” she screamed as the car came down inches from her backside.
The crunch of metal and further shattering of glass rang in her ears as she tumbled through four rows of cornstalks. One of the bikes had been flung sideways, and it cut through the corn about five feet to her left. The bell rang wildly when it smacked the dirt.
She’d fallen almost face-first, giving her a taste of the nasty soil. While she spit it out and wiped it from her cheek, she rolled to her side to see if her friends were all right. “Peter? Audrey?”
They’d been a bit behind her, but she’d given them a brief warning. She assumed they’d been watching the plow go by and were ready for the flying car, but with those two, she never knew. Seconds went by, and she began to fear the worst. Tabby prepared to crawl over to search…
“We’re fine,” Audrey finally replied from the other side of the car.
“Thank God.” Tabby fell back to the ground, content to sit for a moment and make sure she didn’t toss her cookies. The roar of the plows faded as they drove on, but new engine sounds followed; other vehicles were on the interstate, including the rumble of semi-trucks—lots of them.
She took a centering breath, then got to a crouch in order to see over the stalks. For a second, she imagined life going back to normal. The highway was filled with box trucks, flatbed trailers stacked with shipping containers, and tanker trucks. They all followed the mega-plows like ducklings behind their mother. A few cars were sprinkled in, furthering the illusion. However, the flow of traffic took up all four lanes and all of them were going north toward Chicago. And worse, lots of the flatbed trucks carried the robot horses.
It wasn’t a return to normal; it was a full-on invasion.
Peter and Audrey scooted over to her while she observed the procession.
“Hey, tour guide,” Peter laughed, “what’s next on our itinerary? I’m bored.”
Audrey slapped him across the chest.
“Ow!” he said with mock pain.
Tabby laughed at the crazy situation she found herself in. It had been mere hours since their friend had been gunned down and they were joking again. She wished she could bounce back that fast. All she thought about were the trucks driving by, and the enemy within. Those were real people, not robots. They were the jerks who killed her parents, and everyone else. In her head, they were senseless, drooling, maniacal killers, ever searching for the next innocent they wanted to murder. She would never see them as proper soldiers on the march.
Tabby spoke dramatically. “I’m going to kill them. Every freaking one of them.”
“Say what?” Peter asked seriously. “I was kidding, you know. We almost died a second ago. I was making a joke about being bored.”
Tabby caught herself, then glanced back to the kids. “Oh, right. I don’t mean right now. But someday. Those people driving those trucks, they’re going to pay for killing Donovan. For killing our parents. I know we can’t do anything at this moment, but I’m going to be on the lookout for how I can.”
From tour guide to G.I. Jane? It sounded insane when she thought it through, but nothing so far gave her any hope they could peacefully surrender. Gus and Vinny had said their co-workers tried to surrender and were killed on the spot by real people. No one asked Donovan if he wanted to surrender; the robots didn’t seem to care, either. She shook involuntarily at the idea of having no way to protect the two happy-go-lucky teens in her charge.
It took about five minutes, but the parade of tractor-trailers came to an end. A single military armored truck trailed behind. It had eight wheels, a muted gray hull that reminded her of a narrow turtle, and a small turret on top. A pair of men sat in the open hatches on the turret, dressed in black uniforms and black hats. She was close enough to see them laughing as if one of them had told a funny joke.
The face of the enemy.
She crouched lower, afraid men with real eyes would turn and see her in the corn.
“Stay down,” she hissed, sure Audrey or Peter would be standing too high.
The wheeled vehicle rolled by without slowing. She had no idea what it was, or what military it came from, but she didn’t want to tangle with it. They’d been lucky so far, and she wanted that streak to continue.
“We have to collect our stuff,” she said, only after the convoy was a distant hum.
“What do you mean?” Peter asked. “The car is toast.”
“Some of it had to survive. Our guns and stuff are in there.” She pointed to the ruined Subaru, which was lying on its side. “We’ll get what we can and find another car. We’ll have to take backroads.”
“Won’t we get caught with those things on the highway now?” Audrey said with worry.
“Well, we can’t walk home. We have to get there before more of these jerks show up. I want to be somewhere familiar, you know?” All at once, getting the kids home seemed like the most important mission in the world.
She’d gotten up to full height when stalks of corn crunched from behind her.
A drone?
More stalks tipped over. Like in the movies, she saw an object running through the rows, heading right for her. She reached around to the gun at the small of her back, but the fear made her clumsy and slow. Having it probably wouldn’t matter if a mechanical horse-drone found her.
Of course they would scout alongside the highway.
She crouched down, intent to at least block the drone and maybe give the kids time to escape.
Then a dark shape came out of the greenery.
It went right for her.
CHAPTER 14
Martha’s Vineyard Island, MA
As Kyla and Emily motored along the shoreline of Rhode Island, the boat traffic increased greatly. Unlike the automobiles on the highways that ran into things, or stopped when the clutch wasn’t engaged, boats kept going until they ran out of fuel. Some of them had crashed into land, or headed out into the ocean, but the congestion as they approached Martha’s Vineyard suggested it was a fishing and pleasure boat anchoring area; lots of white dots were adrift on the blue waters.
“Do you think anyone’s alive out there?” she asked Emily, who sat resolute and mostly silent at the wheel.
“No. Nobody’s alive. People have all been cleaned away, just like they said.”
Kyla wanted to argue the point, show some hope in front of the leader of the country. Tell her she was wrong, and this was why. But nothing came to mind that would prove her right. Eventually, she drifted to sleep with the rhythm of the waves…
A change in the engine pitch startled her awake.
“Whoa!” she blurted, tipping forward a little.
“It’s okay,” Emily reassured her. “We’re here.”
They were in a small bay with dozens of single-mast sailboats anchored behind a rocky sea barrier, so waves wouldn’t strike them. A large renegade ferry had sped through the mooring area, creating a path of tipped hulls and debris. The ship had run aground on the beach beyond the boats. Emily pointed to it. “I bet Ted could get that running and use it to take us out into the ocean.”
“Wouldn’t the missile boats get us?” Kyla asked in return.
“I don’t know,” Emily remarked. “Maybe they aren’t prepared for ships to come through, only airplanes. Who would be looking for a wayward ferry? Maybe it drifted loose, with all the other boats?”
It made sense. “We could drift our way across the ocean! They couldn’t destroy every sailboat and dingy loose out there.” They’d already seen plenty of boats on the water. Any of those small ones could survive the voyage, though fuel would give out long before they made it to Europe. A larger ship, like the ferry, might have enough fuel to go the distance. It was an idea to keep in her back pocket.
“We’ll park alongside this dock. At least we’ll know we have one option of escape at our command if we don’t find your uncle right away.” Emily guided the boat next to an empty wooden pier, and Kyla jumped out and secured the mooring ropes to a pair of cleats.
Together, they walked the pier toward the shore. Emily carried her rifle and the holstered pistol. Kyla only had her pistol tucked into her belt.
Ahead of them, they entered a pleasant street filled with seafood restaurants, boat rental shops, and tourist trinket kiosks. The summertime clothes strewn all over the sidewalks reminded her she was dressed like a Marine. Though she was grateful for Meechum giving her clothes to wear besides her fast-food-styled polo shirt, she wanted to dress more to her taste and comfort. There was no way she could be convinced to pick up any of the clothing belonging to the missing tourists, but there were lots of shops.
“Do you think I have time to run in and change?” she asked, stopping suddenly at an open storefront. When Emily turned around, Kyla motioned to her own attire, as if it would be obvious why she needed new threads.
Emily relaxed, then looked inside the windows. “Be quick. I could use a change of clothes myself. These have been in the ocean. Twice. I feel like I’ve taken these jeans as far as I can without washing them.”
She went inside with Emily. Eighties music played in the background, and the cheery lighting made the place seem normal. But it was nice she didn’t need money. It was like winning a radio contest where she could buy anything in the store, as long as she did it within three minutes. Emily ran around and yanked clothes off the racks, then hurried into the changing room, even though there was no one else around. Kyla changed right on the main floor.
When Emily came out and saw Kyla buttoning her new shorts, she laughed. “I guess old habits are going to stick with me for a while. You’re younger. Obviously, you’ve adapted to having no one else around.”
Kyla shook her head. “I didn’t think about it. I’d change in front of a crowd if it meant we can get going to my uncle that much faster. I can only imagine what he and Meechum are doing right now without us. Probably building a tank or something.” She laughed at the image.
“That sounds like him. Hey, what do you think?” Emily half-turned to show her flowery outfit. She’d put on a sleeveless summer dress that ended a little below her knees. The pink and teal flowers went perfectly with the dress’s white background, giving it a happy, summery look. “It’s less formal than I would like, but this is a beach bum kind of place. There isn’t much here for the business-minded woman.”
Before Kyla could respond, Emily pointed to her feet. “Plus these. My other boots were soaked, and these were the only things I could find, besides flipflops.” She’d found a pair of thick, black combat boots that went up to mid-shin. Emily was a pretty woman, so the look worked for her, but she appeared anything but professional.
“It’ll all come together when you pick up your rifle,” Kyla joked. “How do I look?” she went on. She spun around, too, but was inexplicably self-conscious about her appearance in front of the important woman. Instead of a feminine dress, she’d pulled a random pair of olive drab cargo shorts off the rack and matched it with a sky-blue T-shirt. It had a lobster outline on the front, with the words If you pinch me, I’ll bite stenciled above it, and Martha’s Vineyard below.
“For a five-minute shopping spree, I think we both did pretty good.” Emily grabbed her rifle, but she didn’t know what to do with the pistol. There was no belt to tuck it in, nor did the dress have pockets. “Oh, wow, I didn’t think this through.” The VP glanced around the place, then grabbed a fashionable over-the-shoulder beach bag. The pistol dropped right in. “Solved!”
“Good call,” Kyla replied. Her cargo shorts had pockets barely big enough for her fingers, so she was forced to put Carthager’s pistol back in her waistband.
“Come on, we’ve wasted enough time,” Emily huffed as she headed for the door. Before she went out, she yanked a pair of sunglasses off the spinny-rack near the exit. She held them up for Kyla. “Snag a pair. It helps to have eye protection when we’re firing guns.”
“Listen to the vice president,” Kyla mused. “She’s got fashion sense and a mind honed for combat.”
They went outside, sunglasses on and rifles over their shoulders, but Emily held her back. “You know, I never wanted any of this. My political career has been based on non-violence and helping people. What we’ve been forced to do is…”
“It blows chunks,” Kyla interjected. “I know. I won’t think any different of you. You’ve got my vote, no matter what.”
Emily cracked up. “That’s the last thing on my mind. Getting you back to your uncle is what really matters. He’s been looking forward to this since I met him. Let’s get over to the airport and do this.”
They easily found another car and got it started. Emily drove like she knew where to go. Kyla really hoped being reunited with Uncle Ted would end the nightmare, but Meechum had taught her to be suitably cautious. She’d seen it herself in New York City. No matter if they escaped by boat or plane or anything else that moved, the fight was far from over.
Still, when they pulled up to the airport and she caught sight of Uncle Ted with Meechum next to him, she forgot all about her horrible attire.
“Uncle Ted!”
Martha’s Vineyard Airport, MA
“Uncle Ted!”
Those were the sweetest words Ted had heard the entire week. His niece ran into his arms and they hugged for a moment, until the barrel of her rifle bonked him in the head. “Whoa! Where’d you get this hardware from?”
Kyla took a step back. “You won’t believe it! When that guy said to kill us on the radio, Emily and I both got out our pistols and shot the bastard dead. Then, when another guy came out of the woods, we killed him, too.”
Meechum came up next to Ted but looked at Kyla. “So, you learned a few things at the firing range, huh?”
Kyla nodded enthusiastically. “I kept my breathing calm. I aimed with my dominant eye. Then I squeezed the trigger, like you showed me a million times.” Without prompting, she lunged for the Marine and gave her a hug, too.
“I’m more worried about your outfit,” Meechum said dryly.
Kyla jumped away like she had a week’s worth of pent up energy. “Yeah, I look like a tourist. The uniform was too uncomfortable. Besides, it takes off some of the pressure. When I dress like a Marine, peo
ple expect me to do heroic things. At least, that’s how I feel.”
“Sounds like you did some heroic things anyway,” he suggested.
He’d been talking to the two ladies, so he almost missed when Emily came around her borrowed car. Like Kyla, she’d changed since he’d last seen her. Now, she wore a shapely little dress which made her seem the opposite of presidential. A colorful scrunchy bunched her brunette locks into one big ponytail. The oversized combat boots made her seem more like a broody teenager than the leader of the free world. However, cleaned up as she was, he had to admit she was extremely pretty.
Ted wanted to compliment her in some way, but he couldn’t think of anything appropriate in the moment. He diverted his eyes from where they wanted to go and instead saluted her. “Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the President of the United States.” He remained serious for a couple of seconds, but then had to laugh.
“Yeah, yeah,” Emily said, “yuck it up, funny guy. I can have you demoted, you know.”
“Is she officially the president?” Meechum asked, glancing over at her like she was seeing her for the first time.
Ted turned her way, to alleviate his discomfort at how Emily was dressed. “Yep. I was at the White House. The president died in the attack. She’s the next in line, if we ever get the country running again.”
Meechum whistled quietly, like she was impressed. “That changes everything. We figured Tanager was dead, which is why we wanted to get to Ms. Williams, but I guess this makes it official…” She gave Emily a belated but proper salute.
“Please, none of that is necessary. I may be the president on paper, but I’m deferring to Major MacInnis for my security. I never even dreamed about a scenario this dire.” She gestured for Meechum to step closer. “When we came in, we saw a big ferry beached up in the port. If we could free her, we might be able to put out to sea.”
Minus America Box Set | Books 1-5 Page 54