Empty Cities

by E. E. Isherwood

  Vinny and Gus walked through the doors, but the kids stayed with her.

  “We must look pretty badass,” Peter remarked, holding his shotgun for the camera.

  Tabby was horrified. She faced the camera again, too. “I didn’t give guns to the children. We found these at an empty police station. I promise we’ll give them back as soon as we find someone in charge, which I hope is soon…”

  Donovan teared up.

  “What is it, D?” she asked with sympathy.

  He stood up and moved out of the frame of the camera. She unclipped the mic and followed.

  “This is pointless. Our parents are all dead—”

  “Not mine,” she interjected.

  “Fine. Whatever. My parents are dead. We saw them at my house. What am I supposed to do? I don’t even know if any of my relatives are alive. Should I go look for them?”

  “No!” she answered. Her job was to keep them together until they found the authorities. They had to be getting close to that. “Well, I mean, not yet. Once this message gets to whoever is watching the news, we’ll be rescued. Those are the people who will help you find your family again.”

  He sniffled but seemed content.

  She, however, became aware of Gus looking at her from across the studio. He’d gotten out another cigarette and tugged at it furiously, as if thinking hard about his next move.

  After what she’d said on camera about the guns, it seemed hypocritical to wish she’d brought her shotgun, but the creepy vibe wouldn’t go away. She secretly enjoyed the rub of the pistol against the small of her back. It gave her comfort to know it was there, and it maintained her feeling of being in charge.

  “Gather up, guys,” she said to the kids. “We’re going to wait in the front lobby so we can see when help is coming.” She thought it would also be a good place to go in case they needed to get away from Gus.

  The gray-haired man continued to focus his eyes on her, but she ignored him as she walked by. Tabby glanced over her shoulder as she went into the hallway and made it appear as if she was ensuring the kids had followed her, but the real reason was to see if Gus was still watching her.

  “Shit,” she muttered. The guy had moved next to the doorway, probably to watch her walk away, creeper style.

  Tabby’s nerves were on an electricity-fueled edge because she wanted to be anywhere but there. If she could get her friends gathered, maybe they could slip away. They’d jump out when help arrived…

  Donovan and Audrey came through the doorway after her, but Peter lagged behind like he owned the place. He’d hefted the shotgun, so it balanced on his right shoulder. It was ripe for plucking…

  She opened her mouth to say something, but it was already too late.

  Gus hit Peter’s shotgun barrel, which popped Audrey Two up and out of the boy’s hand. Because he didn’t have a good grip, it rolled over his back, right into Gus’s arms.

  “Fuck!” the boy screamed in agony.

  Tabby fumbled for her pistol a moment after Gus captured the gun. Peter had fallen to one side, away from Gus, as if dodging an attack. Audrey and Donovan barely looked back because they didn’t understand what had happened.

  “Move!” she shouted.

  The kids scrambled in multiple directions, making it hard for her to properly aim the pistol. Gus wasn’t encumbered by such worries. He brought the shotgun to bear on the first person he could.

  Tabby had the advantage. Her pistol was at the ready and aimed at the filthy nametag of the sanitation worker, even as his shotgun came up.

  All she had to do was pull the trigger.

  CHAPTER 18

  Newark, NJ

  “Help!” Kyla screamed.

  The helicopter banked in a tight left turn, as if the pilot wanted to reverse course the second he saw the explosion at the overpass. The g-forces kept her pinned to the outside skin of the aircraft, and the tether was the only thing keeping her from falling to the houses below.

  She noticed a second plane gliding down onto the highway, but the banked turn soon made her lose track of it.

  “Hang on,” Meechum said calmly over the headset.

  She didn’t have much choice, but as the Skyhawk straightened its flight path, she managed to pull herself along the cord. Kyla struggled to reach the door handhold.

  “We going back out to sea?” Meechum asked the pilot.

  Kyla didn’t care in the least about that; she only wanted some help climbing back in. However, rather than flap in the wind waiting, she continued her efforts to find that handhold. The second she found it, Kyla pulled herself onto the cargo hold floor.

  Meechum grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her away from the door. “Girl, you almost did a no-chute para-jump. That’s hardcore!”

  She didn’t feel like it was worthy of such praise. The helicopter bumped up and down as they hit some turbulence, which made them both grab onto the back row of seats. She was so scared she laughed maniacally. “I think I’m going to puke!”

  “Not on me, dudette! Just hang on, okay?”

  Kyla and Meechum got in their seats and buckled in. Almost immediately after making the seatbelt click, the pilot banked them again, but she was ready for it.

  A voice interrupted her headset. “Looks like an old-model Predator drone is taking off from the Newark Airport.”

  She and Meechum shared concerned looks.

  “We have another drone between us and the coast. It was already in the air.” The pilot angled the helicopter away from the coast and toward the edge of Staten Island. “I’m going to see if I can get around it.”

  Kyla was already nervous to the point of throwing up, but the rollercoaster ups and downs almost brought up her breakfast. The large earmuff headphones blocked out most of the sound, but there were buzzing alarms up by the pilot she heard with near-perfect clarity. She didn’t know what they were for, but it had to be related to the air pursuit closing in on them.

  She found it helped when she focused herself out the side door, down to the homes and streets below. As she looked out on the urban sprawl, New York City and the surrounding rivers came into view. Closer, a bit to the north of Staten Island, she caught sight of the Newark Airport as well as a bunch of huge ships actively unloading shipping containers at a port facility already filled with them.

  “Just breathe,” she reassured herself. “That’s how you get through this.”

  Meechum, for once, looked almost as uncomfortable as her. “How are you doing?” she asked the Marine.

  The blonde-haired woman glanced sideways at her, almost to the point of being offended, but then she relented a bit. “I hate flying!”

  “Really? I didn’t think anything could get you down. Hell, you were sitting on the edge a second ago!” She didn’t tell the woman she’d inspired her to do the same.

  Meechum grinned. “I hate not being in control, that’s all.”

  Kyla had spent her life leaving the control to someone else. Working for the Navy was all about following orders and doing as she was told, even if she wasn’t formally in a uniform. Nothing happened without massive packets of orders and guidelines.

  The pilot drove them in wild circles for a couple of minutes before he came back on the intercom. “I can’t get around these bastards. I think they’re trying to box us in, so we’ll land close to the airport. I don’t think Captain Van Nuys would approve of that.”

  Meechum spoke to the pilot. “Can you put us down at Battery Park? We can finish our mission while also distracting the enemy from you. Maybe that will help you get away.”

  “Seriously? You want me to put you in the city?”

  “Yeah,” Kyla agreed, “are you sure that’s wise?”

  The Marine nodded. “I was given a mission to investigate New York. We’ll either find some people there, or we won’t. Either way, I can go back to the ship and give Carthager some actionable intel he can then give to the captain.”

  “Damn,” Kyla said quietly.

  T
he bottom dropped out as the pilot shredded some more altitude, then the scenery outside turned to all water. They were now south of the city, heading toward the blocky skyline.

  “I’ll go with you,” Kyla added, surprised to hear herself say it. Getting out wasn’t what she had in mind when she climbed aboard earlier, but she was committed to staying with her new friend.

  The pilot worked the commands and spoke to someone on a different channel. A minute later, he reported to Meechum. “The JFK has cleared you to hop out. I’ll drop you at Battery Park, like you requested. Up ahead.”

  Meechum held the mic to her face. “You’re coming back for us, right?”

  “Affirmative. I don’t know if I can shake those guys, but I’m going to try.”

  She had no idea how fast the helicopter could go, but it seemed like the pilot was pushing it to the limit. They passed over more of the giant ships stacked with containers, and they went by another series of docks with massive cranes designed to pull the containers off the deck. They also passed the Statue of Liberty, which she saw from a couple of hundred feet away, outside her door.

  And the giant fire was always there, with a smoke plume shaped to look like a kid’s finger as they dragged it through a bowl of ice cream.

  “This is crazy,” she said to herself, forgetting Meechum could hear her.

  “I’ll take care of you, dudette. Don’t get scared on me, okay?”

  “Oh, I’m scared, but I’ll get over it. What’s going to happen to the pilot? Won’t they shoot him down?”

  Meechum shrugged. “You know these Navy jocks. They like to be the hero.”

  The pilot laughed. “If they force me down, it’s better if you two aren’t on board. Get to Central Park. If I get clear, I’ll come back later, I promise. I’ll pick you up there.”

  Kyla didn’t like the plan at all, but she still knew enough not to tell military people how to do their jobs.

  “Roger that,” she said at the same time as Meechum.

  The other woman smiled at her. “You’re getting the hang of this.”

  Then she picked up her rifle.

  Lincoln Tunnel, NY

  Ted and Emily didn’t stick around the exit to see where the Hellfire missile landed. They ran into the well-lit automotive tunnel and didn’t slow until they went around a curve. During the entire run, he’d imagined the missile skipping off the pavement as it cruised by them. However, that was the cartoon version. In the real world, it would explode on impact and kill them from a distance because there was nowhere else for the blast and shrapnel to go.

  When they came to an abandoned taxi, he checked the door and then climbed inside. “We. Have. Keys.” His breathing was labored from the sprint.

  Emily got in, huffing the same way. “Did they shoot at us?”

  The answer made all the difference. If they’d been the target, it meant someone knew they were in the tunnel. If the target was something else, like their wrecked Camaro, it could mean they’d escaped.

  “I’m not even going to guess. Either way, we have to keep moving.”

  He tried to start the motor, but realized the key was already turned. The engine had idled itself out of fuel.

  “Damn! We need a different car. A stick!”

  They both got out and trotted fifty yards to the next vehicle. That one was an automatic, too, and it was also out of gas. They tried two more before finding an old stick shift.

  “Eesh, this thing is a shit-box,” he remarked. The make and model were unknown, but it reminded him of an old Yugo. It was small and ugly, but it did start.

  Their bag and guns filled up the back seat.

  As he got it going, the little fender rubbed against the side wall of the tunnel, but he backed it off, then did a ten-point U-turn to get them pointed back toward New York City.

  Emily spoke as he made his maneuver. “It’s nice we keep finding cars and planes to borrow. We should put notes in each one we use. An IOU, if you will.”

  “Yeah,” he mused, “we should go to the coin factory and make up your presidential challenge coin.” He tapped his pocket where he still had the one Ramirez had given him. “We could drop a coin in each one.”

  Ted got the Yugo clone to about thirty-five miles per hour.

  Emily tapped her nails against the wood-grained glove box. “Do you really think they want us dead? I mean, not us as important government employees, but as generic American citizens. It seems like they aren’t very discerning in who they kill.”

  “It seems that way.” He stole a glance at her. She still wore the torn blouse material over her nose and mouth as part of their disguise. His was gone, though it was hard to remember where he’d lost it. Probably when he dove away from the Camaro and fell down that hill. “This is almost certainly an invasion, Emily, and the bad thing is there are no war correspondents left alive to report it.”

  “Our bases around the world know about it. We told them while we were airborne. We just have to wait until they come home and start fighting back.”

  “Maybe,” he said with great distraction. Driving in the arched tunnel reminded him of going through a long public bathroom. Large, white tiles covered every inch of the walls, archway, and ceiling. The faint scent of sewage seemed to hang on the air. It went in a perfectly straight line for almost a mile with few abandoned cars, but there was a jam up ahead.

  Several cars had come to a rest in the sideways position, blocking those behind it. He guessed he might be able to bully the little vehicle through the first couple of cars, but not all of them behind it.

  “We’ve got to ditch our ride, but I can see the light ahead. We’re almost home free. The city is right there.” Ted shut the motor off.

  Emily put one hand on the door handle yet glanced over to him. “Yeah, but are they waiting for us out there?”

  That was the million-dollar question.

  San Francisco, CA

  Dwight followed the footprints up the beach, but the people walked onto a nearby walkway, which made it impossible to track them. However, thanks to Poppy, he couldn’t give up and turn around without a brief search, so he trudged on armed only with a wine bottle.

  The low foghorn of a ship drifted in from over the harbor. Far out on the water, near the Oakland Bay Bridge, a long ship carried hundreds of shipping containers to an unknown destination. A second one was a few miles behind.

  “You can’t have mine back!” he yelled.

  Poppy gave him a serious glare.

  “What? You think they can see me?” He realized what it meant. If there was a ship on the bay, it meant he wasn’t alone. The real test was whether they could see him.

  “Hey! Wha-hoo! Hello!” He waved his arms and did his best to jump up and down, though the liquor slowed him. “It’s finally happening!”

  A man startled him from behind. “Yes, it is.”

  Dwight spun around. The wine bottle slid out of his hand and shattered on the pavement. “Oh my god, you scared the holy bejeezes out of me.”

  “Where have you been?” the man asked.

  “I’ve been walking around the city.” He had no intention of giving away his old home in the sub-basement of the skyscraper because he might need it again. “Just now I crawled out of my new shipping container.” He looked down. “I don’t have a snazzy outfit like yours.”

  Dwight saw two of the man because his eyes wouldn’t focus right. However, when he really put all his energy into the effort, he got a good look at the guy: he was middle-aged, somewhat Asian-looking, and was dressed in a black jumpsuit with black sneakers.

  By contrast, Dwight wore faded, dirty blue jeans that were two sizes too big, and a blue shirt that was two sizes too small. The only times he cared about how he looked were in the brief moments between finishing a drinking binge and starting the next one, which was where he was at that moment. “I, uh, have been down on my luck today.”

  The man nodded. “Some of us have found this city to be full of dangers. Come to the welcome
center and we’ll get you squared away.”

  “What? Me?” He was always wary of do-gooders who tried to give him more than a few dollars. Those people who handed him sandwiches or savings bonds were always trying to get him on the right path. All he wanted was more money for the cheapest happy drink he could find.

  “Sure! We’re all in this together now.” There was something about the man’s behavior that made Dwight agree to go along with him.

  “No, I’m not going to get one of those fancy suits,” he whispered to Poppy.

  But he kind of did.

  CHAPTER 19

  Newark, NJ

  Ted stood at the edge of the Lincoln Tunnel. The traffic must have been light when the event happened, because there wasn’t a long line of cars and trucks waiting to enter the tunnel. However, there were dozens of vehicles at the threshold to the underground highway, as if they’d all come to a stop at the same place when their drivers disappeared.

  The skyline was thick with buildings all around.

  Emily came up behind him. “We’re in midtown Manhattan.”

  They listened intently for the sound of Predator drones, but he didn’t hear anything in the air except for a faraway helicopter.

  “You know this area?” he whispered.

  She leaned to get a better look outside. “My husband and I used to live here. We talked about it earlier.”

  “New York is a big city. Are you saying you lived right here?” His sister lived in the city, but far north of Central Park in a place called Pelham Bay. He had no idea what was around this exit tunnel because it was miles from her apartment.

  Emily pointed to a connecting avenue. “Yeah, close. I live up by Central Park, which is about ten blocks that way.”

  As he listened, he considered where they should go. As long as they stayed within the tall skyscraper canyons of the city, the Predator drones would have a hard time tracking them. Even if a drone operator was cocky enough to fly into the area or drop between buildings, they would never be able to make ninety-degree turns, so Ted and Emily could easily evade them. At least, in a perfect world.