Empty Cities

by E. E. Isherwood

  The four-legged beast planted its feet on the floor as if to brace itself. The tube started spinning with a howl, then bangs exploded from the horse’s rotating gun.

  “Oh shit!” She fell back through the door and landed on her butt.

  The machine gun let out a constant stream of bullets, and the concussion rattled the heavy metallic door between her and the robotic horse. She had to imagine what those many shots were doing to the studio and the two men inside.

  Tabby scooted across the landing and stumbled down the first few steps before getting proper footing. She imagined the horse crashing through the doorway to chase them. It was less than thirty feet away…

  “Go!” she panted.

  She and the kids practically fell out the emergency exit door into another alleyway. There were no robots in view, which was a plus, but she was turned around and had no idea where to go.

  “Anywhere but here,” she said to herself.

  “What?” Peter yelled. When she glanced over to him, he had a finger in his ear as if he couldn’t hear, either. Tabby had been close to the shotgun when it went off, but Peter was a few feet closer.

  Donovan was in tears; she could have easily joined him. The military-grade gun still chattered inside the building. Two fire doors and a stairwell didn’t block it all out.

  “We have to run back to the car. Does anyone recognize anything?”

  To her shock, Donavon pointed the way.

  “You sure?” she said while holding his shoulder to try to offer a small crumb of sympathy.

  He nodded and sniffled at the same time. “I remember those dumpsters.”

  They’d come out closer to their return path than she thought.

  “Good job,” she said.

  Together, they ran for their lives.

  CHAPTER 22

  New York City, NY

  “I’ve never had running cramps like this before.” Kyla leaned against the stone column, thankful Meechum had called for a five-minute pause. She wasn’t going to admit it to the other woman, but her stomach was putting in a stern request to jettison breakfast.

  They’d run from Battery Park, on the south end of Manhattan, to Grand Central Station. As planned, they ran through the dense parts of the city, including the tall buildings of the financial district in Lower Manhattan, the apartment buildings of the East Village, and now they were back among the tall skyscrapers of Midtown.

  “Welcome to the Marines,” Meechum replied, chest heaving. “I gave you the shirt top because I knew you could handle it.”

  Kyla didn’t feel that tough, despite having grown up in the rough outskirts of New York City. “Thanks. It isn’t as glamorous as I’d hoped.”

  She reflected on how her mom still lived in that tough outskirt. A place called Pelham Bay. She used to live there. Kyla had no doubt Mom was dead, especially after seeing the last four miles of the city she loved. That fact didn’t make her feel tough, at all. She was weakened by the realization.

  “Come on, let’s check this place out.” The blonde Marine strode away from the entrance to look around inside, unconcerned with whether Kyla believed she was tough or not.

  Grand Central Station was always busy. It was a tourist destination for those coming to New York City to see the sights, but it was also the daily transit point for tens of thousands of locals coming to Midtown to work.

  “Do you see anyone?” Meechum asked a short time later as she trotted down the giant staircase. Her breathing was almost back to normal.

  The lights were on like any other day, but the high vaulted ceiling and soccer-field-sized promenade underneath made the place seem like a morgue. Evidence of those travelers and tourists were still there, but only their clothing remained. Hundreds of pairs of shoes, every color of slacks and dresses, and numerous suitcases had fallen to the floor.

  Other than the two of them, there was no one left alive in the entire place. They’d seen the same thing along their run.

  “I can’t believe this is real.” Kyla had seen evidence of the attack back on the carrier, and knew the captain had trouble contacting anyone back on shore, but she didn’t believe civilians had been killed until now. “And this is why my Uncle Ted called me. He knew it was this bad.”

  “Cool dude?” the Marine asked as she pulled a water out of her backpack.

  “Yeah. He and my mom were close, but she was the space cadet and he was the Air Force cadet. They couldn’t have been more different.” She chuckled, thinking of any number of the good times they’d all shared when he came to visit.

  She sucked in as much oxygen as possible, then released it. Her breathing still refused to level off.

  “Do you know where he is now?” Meechum asked.

  Kyla thought about it. He said he was coming for her, but that was yesterday, and her ship had moved. It was unlikely he’d even be able to find her. Plus, with strange aircraft flying around, and the entire population of the city wiped out, she figured he’d have more important things to do.

  “He’s probably in London. They’d have to get the vice president to safety. I’m sure of it.” She’d tried to call him this morning, but the lines weren’t working. If they got back to the ship, she would try him again.

  Meechum gulped down a little water, then handed it to her. “It isn’t how it should be, but if we lost President Tanager, it would be nice to have a female president, don’t you think?”

  “Do you believe the president is dead, too?” For some reason, she continued to think the attack was confined to the world she saw with her own eyes, though she knew that was unreasonable. If everyone in New York City was dead, it stood to reason all the people in Washington D.C. were gone, too.

  “Wait—” Meechum said in answer.

  The rumble of a helicopter rotor carried on the air, and they heard it resonate inside the giant echo chamber. It went away a few seconds later, perhaps because it flew around other buildings.

  Meechum grabbed the water bottle from Kyla and stuffed it in her pack.

  “We’ve got to move out. It sounds like our ride is already at Central Park.” Kyla trailed behind as they crossed the surface of the train station, then ran out the front doors.

  The chair-jockey programmer was almost in tears by the time they’d made it to the park ten minutes later. Her side was going to split open because of the pain. The water hadn’t helped at all. The combat Marine dragged her civilian butt beyond the Sherman statue at the southeast corner of the park, which gave them a broad view of the whole place.

  The Seahawk helicopter was there, but it behaved erratically over the near end of the park. She watched as it banked left, then made an evasive maneuver by dipping lower over the trees. Above, a fast-moving rocket came out of nowhere and slammed into the top of an apartment building.

  “What the hell did we walk into?” Meechum deadpanned.

  New York City, NY

  Chunks of concrete, plaster, and rebar fell through the stairwell while Ted and Emily ran down flight after flight. The explosion did a lot of damage to the roof exit, but the Hellfire wasn’t powerful enough to destroy the entire top level, which gave them enough room to run.

  “We have to get out of here. I think they saw us without our masks.” Ted wasn’t mad at her for leaving her mask when she changed clothes, but he was angry at himself for dropping the ball on security again. The drone operator would have taken their picture as it targeted them for destruction, but the Seahawk pilot was close enough to get solid copy on her, too.

  And they probably watched us come in. He didn’t tell her that, however, because it seemed obvious in retrospect. If Emily was an important enemy of the invaders, they’d naturally keep tabs on where she might show up. In the fog of war, maybe the bad guys didn’t get the news Air Force Two had been brought down. He’d been thinking in terms of helping her get over the loss of her husband, but that compassion might now get her killed.

  His leg muscles burned by the time he reached floor three, and if he k
ept running, they could be out on the road in sixty seconds, but he had to be smart about their departure. “Hold up.”

  “Thank God,” she blurted as she slammed up against the wall to celebrate stopping. Almost forty flights of stairs had wrecked them both.

  “We have to see what’s outside before we go out there. I’m going to find a window if I can.” He pulled open the fire door and went to the first apartment. After a brief knock, he tried the door handle.

  “Locked. Try the next one. Hurry!” He didn’t want to shoot the door handle, though that would be the fastest way in. If they were heard, the escape would be ruined.

  They ran down the tiled hallway trying doors until he found one that was open. He waved her over, then they ran inside and went to the windows. Briefly, he scanned the living area: wooden floors, modern furniture, giant flat panel television. If he had to guess, it was owned by a well-to-do single man.

  Ted pulled back the drapes only enough to see the streets thirty feet below. There was no action directly outside, but if he craned his neck to the left, he managed to see the edge of Central Park. It appeared as if several black panel vans were unloading men.

  “Fuck,” he let slip.

  “What is it?”

  “Men. Lots of them. We’ve got to get down the stairs and out the door before they surround us.”

  To her credit, she didn’t ask him to explain every detail. She ran over to the front door and waited for him to catch up.

  “Are you ready for this, ma’am?” he asked, serious for a change.

  She grinned. “Ted, if you call me ma’am again, I’m going to kill you myself.”

  She took off into the hallway.

  He chuckled, but also double-checked his AR.

  “Don’t fail me, buddy,” he whispered to the rifle.

  San Francisco, CA

  “Play dumb? I don’t have to play dumb, Poppy, because I don’t know anything. Like where we are right now.”

  Dwight followed the man to a warehouse with all its shipping doors open. It was designed to allow semi-trucks to back up and load cargo, but now it appeared as if a hundred people were having a party in there.

  The man stopped him before going in. “So, you look like one of the guys whose container fell in the water. Is that right? We’ve had several people come in looking like they’d been beat up.”

  Dwight wanted ownership of that metal box. The guy apparently was going to help confirm it was his. “Sure, that sounds like what happened.”

  “Let’s get you cleaned up. You can grab a uniform over there, then come to the food table and get your lunch. We’re leaving soon, so you made it back just in time.”

  He heard the words and tried to act like he understood them, but he was still buzzed. “My wine bottle!” he blurted, suddenly remembering it wasn’t in his hands.

  The man turned around. “I think that tip-over affected your memories. We don’t drink, remember?”

  “Am I in Hell?” It would explain where all the people went. Normals would go up to the angels—guys like him wouldn’t.

  The man in the jumpsuit lost some of his smile. “Get dressed. Hurry, please.”

  Dwight was shoved into a large room with racks of the black uniforms, boots, and hats. His own clothing left a lot to be desired in terms of quality, so it didn’t take a cattle prod to get him to strip them off and put on the new ones. When he finally got in front of one of the dressing mirrors, he thought he looked presentable.

  “I could apply for a job,” he said proudly.

  Poppy pointed out how his ratty hair wouldn’t do him any favors at the interview, but all he could do was run his fingers through it to try to improve his appearance. When he finally emerged from the room, Dwight was going to make a run for it, but the man waited for him.

  “Ah, much better. I think you got off easy compared to some of the injured men and women in those lost containers.”

  Those words meant nothing to him, but he nodded anyway.

  Poppy whispered in his ear.

  “No, I can’t give you one of the jumpsuits,” he fumed at barely a whisper.

  “What did you say?” the man asked.

  “Nothing. I should be going, thanks for all your help.”

  “Very funny, uh … What’s your name? Mine’s Jacob.”

  “I’m Poppy. No! What am I saying? My name is Dwight Inverness.”

  “Inverness? I don’t recall anyone with that name on the manifest.” Dwight withered as the man peered at him with the intensity of a police interrogation light. However, his smile soon returned. “But, to be honest, there are so many of us, how could I remember all the last names? Am I right?”

  Dwight nervously laughed.

  “Here, eat up. They were about to put the table away, but there are still a few morsels for latecomers. When you’ve downed a little, I’ll take you to the departure point. The boss is going to give us a big speech before we get on the motorcycles.”

  “Motorcycles? Where are we going?”

  “How could you forget your destination?”

  Poppy whispered in his ear again about lying. He was pleased that she’d kept her voice low around other people. Especially, Jacob.

  “Of course I remember it. Where are you going?”

  “Folsom, California,” he said proudly. “That’s where most of this detachment is headed. It’s the first burn point for us, plus there’s going to be a big show, too.”

  “That’s where I’m going,” Dwight announced, much to his own surprise.

  “Great!” Jacob slapped him on the back. Dwight steadied himself and ensured Poppy didn’t fall off, then he turned his double-vision on the food table.

  “I’ll feel better once I’ve had a little grub.”

  “Go for it. I’ll wait right here.”

  He listened as Poppy cawed in his ear.

  “I know,” he said to her as he lined up behind a few stragglers at the spread of food.

  Poppy was on the same page as him, for once. He had to get out of there as fast as he could.

  CHAPTER 23

  New York City, NY

  Ted ran down the remaining flights of stairs two at a time. Emily lagged behind but he didn’t mind. It gave him a few moments to visualize what would happen next. Hopefully, just more running, but, if necessary, he had his AR primed for action. When she arrived and saw him with his rifle pointed at the door, she did the same.

  “Are we going to have to shoot our way out?” she asked with worry.

  “I hope not. The men are in the front of the building. We’re in the back. I’m trying to remember where the subway stops are. I know they’re close to the park because I rode them with my sister and niece, but I can’t remember where.”

  “Yep, it’s not far,” she assured him. “The 57th Street Station is one block over. Right through this door, then run like hell down 6th Avenue.”

  “Use whatever cover you can find,” he suggested.

  Emily nodded.

  He looked over her rifle to ensure the safety was off and a round was already in the chamber. If they needed to shoot their way out, it was going to take both of them. However, he wanted to avoid the need by moving fast. “You catch your breath?”

  “No,” she said with a smirk, “but you are going anyway, aren’t you?”

  “Sorry. We’ve got a schedule to keep.” He laughed it up to help bolster their spirits.

  Ted pushed the door open as quietly as he was able, but the hinges squeaked in a way that made him think the whole city knew they were there. Immediately, the sounds of the Seahawk helicopter and Predator drones filled the air.

  No men were around.

  “Go!” he mouthed to her.

  They ran a short distance on a cross street but stopped at the corner of 6th Avenue. He checked to see if any men had come around the bend up by the park, but it all seemed clear.

  Traffic faced north because the street was one-way.

  “Keep the cars between us and them,
” he advised.

  They both shot off the curb and got into the street, but the crack of gunfire made him stop immediately. He fell behind a taxi. Emily came to a halt next to a nearby trash truck.

  Windshield glass exploded on a small sedan between the two of them.

  “Fuck. They saw us.” He was certain someone had the entire street rigged with surveillance. They’d been lucky to get out while they could. The black-clad men were at the front corner of the building, two blocks down, but they were moving closer.

  “Go for broke! I’ll cover you.” Ted slapped the rifle on the back corner of the taxicab, then lined up a shot through the 24x scope. His scope was dialed-in for a hundred yards, and they were at about one-fifty, so he aimed for their heads, assuming he’d hit their chests. He picked a running man on the sidewalk, in full view of the whole street.

  The gun cracked, causing him to shift, but when he re-oriented on the scope, the man was down. The others ducked, too, and the smart ones ran into the street to take cover among the cars.

  The men weren’t dressed like any US military outfit he’d ever seen, so he didn’t worry he’d shot at someone on the blue team. These guys fired first at two people dressed like civilians. They were bad guys.

  Free-fire time.

  He picked a second man who had run around the corner, then pulled the trigger.

  “Fuck yeah,” he shouted. The round hit the guy’s shoulder, which sent him tumbling into the gutter.

  More men emerged from around the corner, and he squeezed off a few extra shots to give them something to think about, but there wasn’t enough time to properly aim. The guys in the street were threading through the cars, and he couldn’t hold them all off.

  Behind him, Emily’s khaki shirt weaved left and right as she ran for it.

  A bullet ricocheted off a lamp post about ten feet away.

  He stayed low, hoping they wouldn’t see him reposition. He ran behind the trash truck and used it as a blocker to hide his retreat, then he sprinted to catch up to the woman he was sworn to protect.

  “It’s right here,” she confirmed as soon as he got close.