San Francisco, CA
Dwight sat in the middle of the intersection for a long time. His brain often gave him conflicting information, so it was hard to say for sure, but he believed he was there for at least an hour. In that whole time, no one ran him over or kicked him as they walked across the street.
“See? That was a dumb idea, Poppy.”
He listened to the bird talk.
“I don’t know where they went. Let’s go to the stadium to find out. That’s where they come when they want hot dogs and popcorn.” He listened again. “No, you can’t have any!”
Dwight had trouble getting up. His legs had fallen asleep, though he’d barely noticed until he had to use them. Much of his body was like that. It had been more than a while since he’d been to a doctor.
Once he was on the move, it all came back to him. Walking became easier and less painful for his legs, and he almost enjoyed the stroll. Soon, he made it to the long street that would lead him to the stadium, which was visible a half-mile ahead.
As before, there wasn’t a single car, person, or animal moving anywhere in this part of the city.
“What?” he replied to Poppy. “I’m not counting your kind.” Birds continued to sit on power lines and in nearby trees. Pigeons walked ledges of buildings on each side, as they always did. It was beneath his notice, but not his pet bird’s.
At some point in his long journey, he came across a friendly establishment.
“Victoria Hennessey’s Wine and Beers.”
Dwight looked both ways on the street. Still nothing.
“A short detour is in order.” Poppy didn’t complain, which was comforting. She used to bitch all the time about his fondness for the happy drinks, but that had gone away.
He walked unsteadily into the small shop, pleased to see no one inside. A person had tossed shirts and pants by the counter, but no one was standing there. An entire aisle of wine bottles was in the back.
“Maybe just one …” He reached for whatever was first in the row. Poppy warned him against stealing, but he wasn’t listening to her guidance in the face of such a bounty.
His life became a blur of drinking “samples” he intended to pay for at a later date, as well as stuffing and organizing his survival gear for the remaining journey. He walked out loaded down with bottles inside two stout paper grocery bags.
He did make it to the stadium. He remembered that much. But there was no one there. It was 50,000 seats of empty. Poppy asked him to rest, so he took a seat on second base down on the baseball field.
When he finished another bottle, or spilled it—he wasn’t sure—he ran the bases on the baseball diamond. He pulled out another bottle when he hit home plate.
From there, his blur became a near-blackout, though small snippets broke through the fog.
He spent time yelling at buildings after he’d left the stadium.
Another bottle was spent yelling at some yachts.
Finally, he came to his wits when his brain reminded him that he didn’t know how to swim.
“I’m in the ocean, Poppy! Save me!”
His bird wasn’t stupid enough to drown with him. She sat on a shipping container that had washed up on a rocky beach ahead of him. If he could figure out how to swim…
“Oh, wait.” His foot touched something. “Ha! You tricked me.” He struggled across the rock-strewn bottom and worked to get over to her. The city rose around him. The stadium was across a small inlet of the bay. He figured he’d left the stadium and walked right into the water.
A miracle got him the fifty yards to this side.
When he reached the shore, he realized there were victims of his mistake. The bags of wine were gone. Dwight looked into the water, hopeful they weren’t far. All he had left was one bottle, which seemed to be glued shut in his grip. “At least you made it,” he said to the bottle.
He felt the eyes of the bird watching him with disapproval, but he ignored them. “Poppy, fly around and find the other bottles!”
She remained on top of the beached shipping container.
He glared at her, but she wouldn’t budge from her perch.
“Fine. I’ll go back to the liquor store when I dry off.” He walked onto shore but fell over right at the front door of the giant metal box. “But right now, I’m going to take a short nap.”
The last thing he saw was Poppy flying down to land on him. Behind her, the shipping container doors were cracked open a little…
CHAPTER 11
Harrisburg, PA
“I’ve never seen a nuclear power plant from this angle,” Emily remarked as the Cessna motored by the plant. They were above the water of the river, but still below the level of the huge concrete cooling towers.
“You didn’t tour these things as part of your political junkets and whatever you did on the campaign trails?” He was being funny, because he no longer cared about her politics.
“These things are, pardon the pun, radioactive while out begging for votes. They scare people, even to this day. Politicians never want to be associated with things that scare voters, you know?”
“Just a little bit of fright, right? Like a balloon popping.” He cracked up as the plant fell behind.
“Yeah. Only enough for them to reach out and ask for our help to keep the balloon from bursting. You’ve figured out the essence of my whole career.”
He shook his head at the thought.
“Well, we both need to figure out the next leg of our journey. No politics. No bullshit. We need to go somewhere we can get you safe.”
“What are our choices?” she asked.
Ted pointed in a circle around the plane. “We can go anywhere. We have a full tank of gas. If I remember right, that gives us about five hundred miles before we hit our reserve. Then, it’s boom.” He gestured a plane flying into the ground.
He wasn’t as worried about range or running out of fuel. He could land the plane almost anywhere flat, including fields, highways, and beaches. All of those would be close while on the East Coast. His real fear was getting her captured. Their last close call reinforced his belief these troops were not friendly and weren’t going to treat Emily kindly if they found her. Ted also didn’t want to get himself captured, because he still needed to get to Kyla.
She made the first suggestion. “It’s not five hundred miles to Canada. Maybe we could find help there?”
“Maybe,” he allowed. “But when we were on board Air Force Two, we weren’t picking up any signals up there, except way out on the Atlantic coast islands. I could be a hundred percent wrong, but I think that means they suffered the same fate as the rest of North America.”
Ted guided the plane down the center of the river channel, staying as low to the water as possible. He flew underneath giant powerlines, which probably came directly from the nuke plant. The guys back at the airport would almost certainly be looking for them, and it would be impossible to track them on radar if they were below the treetops. But that brought up another problem.
“We can’t stay on this path. They’ll know to look for us at the next town. The next highway crossing. Anything where they can see us.”
Emily seemed to mull it over. “So, our problem is getting somewhere where we know the people are friendly to us. DC is out. Harrisburg is out. Probably Baltimore and Richmond. Those are next in line from the capital. What about New York?”
“Do we know anyone in New York?” His sister had been there. “Who might be alive?” he added hastily.
“My husband was there,” she replied without emotion. “We had an apartment in Manhattan and a house out on Long Island.”
“I’m sorry,” he said while guiding the plane over a particularly rocky section of the wide river. The boulders stuck up out of the water, suggesting a person could almost walk from one side to the other. He looked down, noting a few beach towels near shore. Evidence of the lost people followed him, even here.
“It’s fine. I’m sure it will hit me when I least expe
ct it, and I never wished harm to him, but we weren’t close. It was more of a marriage of convenience, given how much our families were built around politics.”
He held firm on the yolk but looked over with skepticism. “You don’t seem like the type of gal who would put up with that.”
There was barely an inch between them because the cabin was cramped. She shifted in her seat as if to get away from him. “And what kind of gal do I seem like?”
His brain screamed at him as surely as any alarm on the aircraft. Danger close.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. Honest. It’s just that the more I’ve gotten to know you, the less I see you as a politician and more as a person. I guess I’ve already forgotten a little about what the world was like before yesterday.”
She appeared to think about it, but then got comfortable in her chair like she wanted to enjoy the ride.
“I think I can get us to New York, navigating by the terrain. I don’t suppose you have a radio at your house on Long Island?”
Emily thought for a few seconds. “I wish we were in Montana. I bet my dad has all kinds of radios we could use.”
“But nothing like that at your house?” It would be ideal if he could find a shortwave radio in a private residence. It would be less likely to attract attention than any base or government facility.
“Nope.”
“All right. We’ll stay with the river for a mile or two, then jump out and fly to the east. As long as we stay low, we should avoid detection from radar systems out there. I can follow the interstate, avoid Philadelphia, and eventually we’ll see the New York skyline. From there, we can decide what we want to do. If we can find more fuel, maybe we can get up the coast and into Canada, like you said. We’ll find the Canuck airport with the working tower we heard while on Air Force Two.”
“And if we don’t find fuel?”
He chuckled. “Let’s not worry about that, yet. We’ve got five hundred miles to think about it.”
The fuel gage showed they weren’t quite at full anymore. He didn’t remember this airframe being known for burning through fuel that fast, but he did abuse the throttle on takeoff. Maybe that was where it all went.
As he climbed above the trees at the edge of the river and turned east, he kept his eye on the fuel status. However, he couldn’t help but wonder if Emily had been truthful about not having feelings for her dead husband. If she didn’t…
His mind bounced around with the turbulence outside. Getting to Kyla. Rescuing the VP. Avoiding the assholes with guns.
Ted tapped the fuel gage again. Anything to keep from thinking about the pretty woman flying with him.
That was the one thing in the day he could control.
St. Louis, MO
Tabby followed the sewer truck to an alleyway well out of view of the tractors and drones under the Arch. She pulled up behind them and turned off the car, immediately feeling helpless.
“We can’t trust the people under the Arch, and we can’t trust these two, either.” She shifted in her seat in order to look to Peter and Audrey. “We can only trust each other, okay?”
“I trust you,” Peter agreed, but then he tapped his shotgun. “I trust Audrey Two as well.”
“Aww, you named your shotgun after me?” Audrey gushed.
Tabby’s jaw fell open at the shock of seeing the exchange.
Peter beamed, proud of the gun in his arms.
The girl was being sarcastic, however. “There’s something wrong with you, Pete.”
He laughed, clearly unperturbed at her change of heart.
She wanted to get her message across before the men got out of their truck and came over. “Keep Audrey Two on your shoulder, all right? We don’t want to accidentally shoot these guys.” She hesitated, then reiterated. “Say it with me: we don’t want to accidentally shoot anyone.”
Peter rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
Audrey got out of the car, looking like she got the message as well.
Tabby opted not to carry her shotgun. It was big and awkward, and she didn’t want to deal with it. However, she wasn’t going out unarmed. She tucked a Glock into her pants behind her back, then made sure her shirt covered it.
The two sanitation workers stood behind their truck looking relaxed and unafraid. She gave them credit for that because she was nervous as hell around all the kids’ guns, though she did her best to avoid showing that weakness.
“Looks like you four are taking this Apocalypse-thing seriously. Where’d you get all the firepower?” Gus pulled out a pack of smokes and put one in his mouth.
“A police station,” Donovan replied. “She said we could keep them.”
Tabby let out an uncertain chuckle. “I said they could keep them until we found the cordon.”
Gus used a lighter on his cigarette, took in a long drag, then exhaled smoke. “Cordon? Where’s that?”
“Is that where the people are?” his partner, Vinny, added. He was younger, maybe in his mid-twenties and wasn’t quite as filthy as the older guy. He wore a clean St. Louis Blues hockey team hat, which was blue with a yellow musical note on the front. Underneath the rim, she briefly noted his big blue eyes.
Tabby kept on task. “It’s where the police and fire departments have to be set up to receive people who are escaping this…disaster. I’m not sure if it was a fuel leak, poison gas, or what, but the four of us were in the Bonne Terre Mine when the gas tried to get us.”
Gus lit up. “We were down below, too. Working on a seal job deep under the Met Square building. Goofball, here, let one of the doors close behind us, so we couldn’t get out for half the day yesterday.”
Tabby watched Vinny for his reaction; he seemed upset at himself.
She continued, assuming she knew how the story ended. “And when you came up top, everyone was gone?”
He nodded. “We drove back to the metro sewer shed and found nothing but abandoned vehicles there.”
“And clothes,” Vinny added.
Gus nodded with the interplay between his partner. “Yeah, and clothes. It was like everyone decided to have a little fun before they abandoned this world.”
“They got away,” she corrected.
“Sure, kid. They got away.” Gus puffed out more smoke. “So, after we had our fill of being abandoned down here on the streets, we went up to the top of the nearest hotel to watch the whole city. We spent as much time as we could watching the river for boats, the air for planes, and the ground for any living thing.”
“Boats? Did you see any?”
He looked disappointed. “We saw a few. Barges came shooting down the river like they always did, but these were evidently driverless. They struck the bridges as they came through, cracking up collections of cargo barges. It set them free and they floated downstream, hitting every bridge and dock they passed.”
Vinny silently nodded.
“And you didn’t see anyone since yesterday?”
“We didn’t see anyone…” Gus trailed off, then took a heavy drag on his cigarette.
The younger guy glanced over. “We can tell them.”
Gus seemed to steel himself before continuing. “Until this morning...when they showed up.” He pointed toward the Arch grounds, though they couldn’t see it from the alley. “At first, it was a lone tractor down there. Then a couple of those flying drones swooped in. Vinny and I were amped up to go down there and be glad we found someone, but another MSD truck beat us to it.”
“There are more of you?” Peter asked with surprise. “What are the odds?” He didn’t sound like he believed the story.
Gus took offense to his tone. “We work in some shitty conditions, kid. You’d be surprised how messy it can get with all your generation using baby wipes on your coddled bottoms. Those things clog up the tunnels like giant corks. We can spend days picking those apart.”
Vinny visibly shuddered.
“Anyway, another crew must have been working underground when people disappeared. We watched as they sped
across the grass to the guys under the Arch, almost like you did. A pair of MSD workers got down from their truck, then went over to them. The men in the tractors hopped out too, but when they met up, they shot our friends.”
“Were they threatening them?” Peter suggested.
Gus held up his hands to show they were empty. “We work in the sewers, kid. Other than smelling like we’ve been stomping toilet wine down below, do we look like threats to you?”
Peter said something in response, but Tabby noticed movement at the end of the alley that made her body lock up like she’d been caught in freeze tag. She tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t open.
Gus continued, oblivious to her issue. “They put the two workers back in their truck, then drove it down the cobblestones and right into the Mississippi…”
A white drone hovered along the connecting street about fifty feet away. It went from her right to her left, and though she expected it to turn and look at her every second it was there, it glided silently out of sight.
She pointed at the empty street and eked out a whisper.
“Guys, a drone just went by.”
CHAPTER 12
Poor Sisters Convent, Oakville, MO
Rose left the black lab in her house. As soon as she closed the door, the excitable pup ran to the front window and began barking again. This time, she saw her wagging tail, so she didn’t seem threatening. She only wanted someone to play with.
The entire street had dogs anxious to get out and play. And eat.
“We have to go back,” she advised Deogee.
The gray wolf-dog was reluctant to leave her new friend, but once she got out into the street and walking, she left the lab’s front yard and followed Rose.
“You really are a good dog,” she said to her companion.
On the way home, Rose let her companion visit the scattered clothes of her old master again, but she didn’t spend much time there. Soon enough, she followed her across the yard and up the front walkway.
Rose searched for the source of the earlier noise in the air, but it was nowhere to be seen. She figured she’d missed her chance to see it by being up the street rather than at home. Still, she couldn’t sit inside and wait. She resolved to go to the pet store, if only to buy food for Deogee and the lonely lab, though she knew it wouldn’t end there.
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