by E S Richards
Later that night—as it always did when Amy started to feel comfortable—everything changed.
“They’re back! Derek! Katie! Let us in!”
Shouts and bangs on the front door of the cabin woke Amy with a start just a few moments after she’d drifted off to sleep. She and James were still sleeping downstairs in front of the fire and so were the first to hear the noise. Amy had barely gotten off of the couch before Derek was downstairs, a sawn-off shotgun clutched in his hands.
Amy gasped and opened her mouth to speak as Derek ran to the door, unfastening the latch and tugging it open. Two men and a teenage boy stumbled through, all of them out of breath and also carrying weapons of some description. One of the men and the teenager carried hunting rifles, the other man a pistol with a long blade tucked through his belt straps.
“Graham!” Derek spoke seriously to one of the men. “What’s happened?”
“They’re back,” Graham replied. “And there’re more of them this time.”
“I knew I couldn’t hold them off by myself,” the other man started to speak, “so I ran to Graham’s. They’ll have my cabin by now.”
“How many?” Derek questioned.
“Six,” the unnamed man replied. “I think we should be able to take them with all four of us though.”
“Okay,” Derek nodded resolutely before turning away from the men and looking back towards the staircase. “Katie!” He called in a louder voice, his wife waiting and quick to respond.
“Yes?”
“Take the kids to the hideaway. We’ll meet you there.”
Katie popped her head down below the staircase with a determined although slightly worried expression on her face. “Okay. Be careful, Derek.”
Derek didn’t reply, he just offered his wife a genuine smile and turned back to the men who anxiously waited by the door. “Let’s go,” he said and immediately they were all gone, the door pulled shut behind them, leaving Amy standing frightened and clutching her son in front of the fading embers of the fire.
“Amy?” Katie called from upstairs. “Pack a bag. We need to leave. Now.”
Chapter 11
The White House was eerily quiet. Dixon didn’t like it; it unsettled him and made him feel like danger was lurking around every corner. They’d walked all the way down the corridor he and Miller had chosen and through to one of the staff quarters on the other side. The entire time they had seen nothing, heard nothing, sensed nothing. Even with everything that was happening outside, Dixon was sure they would’ve bumped into someone along the way.
“I don’t like this, man,” Miller spoke nervously from just behind Dixon. He had said very few words since they left the room where his sister lay dead, killed by the terrorists they were trying to hunt down. Dixon had caught him looking back over his shoulder on several occasions, but he suspected it was more in yearning for his sister rather than to make sure they weren’t being followed.
“Me neither,” he replied. “We should’ve run into them by now.”
“We should’ve run into someone at least by now,” Miller responded, echoing Dixon’s thoughts. “It’s spooky. I think we should turn back.”
“We’ve got a job to do, Miller,” Dixon replied firmly. “What do you think Mr. Wilson or General Shepherd would do if they heard you saying that?”
“Yeah, but they’re not here!” Miller’s voice rose in protest. The shock of seeing his sister lying dead on the floor had affected him greatly and Dixon could tell he wasn’t the same solider he had been an hour ago. Granted, Dixon hadn’t known Miller before the power outage and everything happened, but he knew no one would be allowed to work in the White House if this was how he or she normally acted. He was sure they’d both seen death before, but the death of a loved one was something completely different.
“Calm down, Miller,” Dixon tried to soothe his partner, wondering what would have happened differently if he’d been with Kyle or Mathers. He wondered where they could have gotten to in the White House by now and whether they’d managed to apprehend the terrorists. Without a radio there was no way of knowing. They all just had to keep moving until something eventually forced them to stop.
“Why don’t we just check the next room?” Dixon suggested, trying to coax Miller into continuing. “If there’s nothing there we can turn back and try another route.”
“I’m sorry, man,” Miller started shaking his head violently from side to side. “I just can’t leave her there. I can’t.”
“Come on, Miller,” Dixon was trying his best but even he knew he couldn’t argue with Miller much longer. His allegiance to his duty was gradually become more and more frayed. The more Miller spoke about his sister, the more Dixon’s love for Mary filled his own thoughts.
“I’m sorry, Dixon,” Miller shook his head resolutely one more time. “I’m going back. I can’t abandon her.”
Dixon opened his mouth to argue but Miller was already on the move, jogging back the way they had come and out of sight. Dixon put his hands on the back of his head and let out a deep sigh. Now what was he supposed to do? He was loath to abandon his duty to the country that he had sworn to protect, but he couldn’t deny he felt the same pull that Miller did. He wanted to go to Mary, and a part of him felt like if he didn’t go now it could be too late.
***
Walking along the dark tunnel, Mary forced herself to keep a stiff upper lip and remain confident. She could still hear the cries of the people she had left behind in the subway as they echoed down the tunnel and bounced off the brick walls that surrounded her. There were other people walking too—some of them running—but Mary didn’t try to stop and talk to any of them. She knew that in this kind of situation other people were more of a burden than an aid and she didn’t need any extra stress on her plate.
She wasn’t certain how long she’d have to walk along the tracks, but just to be safe she kept firmly to the right-hand wall, one hand trailing along it. It was a technique Dixon had taught her from his military training. If you were ever in an unfamiliar or dangerous place, find a wall as quickly as possible and trail your hand along it because eventually you would reach something you could grab on to. Mary knew she wasn’t in a combat situation, but she let the same teachings apply to her. Already as she had walked she’d passed by a door built into the side of the track, probably for maintenance or something similar. She had paused for a moment but that was all, knowing a random door underground couldn’t be the solution to her problem.
All things considered, Mary didn’t really know what that was going to be. She knew that sooner or later she would have to reach a subway platform of some sort and then she could make her way back up into the city, get her bearings, and figure out what was happening. There was still that feeling in the back of her head that told her it was more than a power outage on the subway line; something—although she couldn’t put her finger on it—just felt wrong.
After another few minutes of walking, Mary started to hear raised voices coming from ahead and sure enough, as her hand traced the gentle curve of the subway tunnel, she saw streaks of light starting to enter the tunnel. There was a station. Her savior. Naturally her pace quickened, her feet kicking up more dust than they had previously and irritating her nose. But Mary didn’t care; she was getting out of the tunnel and she was about to find out what was happening.
Three minutes later, as her eyes first saw what had happened to Washington on ground level, the urge to retreat back underground overwhelmed her. Mary couldn’t believe what had happened to the city in such a short space of time. She was dumfounded and she didn’t have a clue what she was going to do.
Fires were burning in almost every direction she looked. Buildings were crumbling, cars were wrapped around lampposts, and people were running around everywhere. They were screaming, crying, covered in blood. Mary couldn’t understand it. She’d had her suspicions this was more than just a power outage on the subway line, but she had never expected this. What could’ve caused
such terror and mass destruction on such a high level? It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced or even heard of; it reminded her more of the warzones Dixon had described to her, not like downtown Washington should be.
“Hey!” Mary cried at a woman who was about to run past her, trying to stop the panicked woman in her path. “Hey! Excuse me! What’s going on?”
The woman didn’t stop. She didn’t even process the fact that Mary was talking to her and instead just pushed her to the side, almost causing Mary to stumble and fall back down the subway stairs she had just climbed.
That was stupid, Mary scolded herself. She was a clever enough girl to realize this wasn’t the type of scenario where you could stop and ask questions. She needed to get somewhere safe and fast. But where? The only place that came to her mind was the university campus library. That was where she’d agreed to meet Dixon at the end of the day and she knew that with all this going on, he would be trying to find her. Taking a brief moment to catch her breath and figure out where she needed to go, Mary prepared herself for the journey through the city. She’d made the trip countless times before, but already Mary knew this journey was going to be unlike anything she’d ever experienced.
***
Dixon moved as quickly as he dared through the staff quarters of the White House, trying not to make a sound as he jogged. He’d made his mind up; he was going to find Mary, and to do so, he needed to get out of the White House unseen. The decision made him feel uncomfortable. His entire life he had followed a strict order and now he was choosing to betray that. Deep down though, he knew he could forgive himself if something happened to the people in the White House because he wasn’t there. However, if something happened to Mary, he would never be able to live with himself.
The threat of a terrorist cell being nearby was still very real though and it kept Dixon’s senses heightened beyond belief. This was a covert mission now and although his objective wasn’t the norm, it wasn’t necessarily unlike ones he’d had before. Secrecy and stealth were crucial and they were something Dixon specialized in.
He inched around the corner of a doorway, his 9mm at the ready with his finger twitching over the trigger. He wasn’t going to fire unless he absolutely had to, but he still knew he had to be ready. Thankfully, the area he entered was completely deserted, a trend he was slowly coming to count as a blessing. Now all he had to do was cross the maintenance room and access the door to the outside. Once he was out in the open escaping the White House grounds should be a simpler task.
To his surprise, when Dixon got outside he realized he wasn’t far from the hangar he had visited earlier. Memories of taking off in the Osprey and then hurtling to the ground shortly after flew through his head, the sight of the burning helicopter reminding him just how close he had come to death. Only a small number of them had survived the crash and even fewer had made it back to the White House. Dixon thought of Farley and Corporal Lawson and wondered where they would be now; surely the hangar would be abandoned after what had happened during their flight.
He wasn’t taking any stupid risks though, and so Dixon remained low as he crept around the outside of the hangar. Already he could see that the large doors remained open and he would have to pass them if he was going to reach his destination. There was a gate in one section of the hedges not far from the hangar which they used to wheel the vehicles in and out when they weren’t in the air. That was going to be his way out.
“You there!”
Dixon swore under his breath. He had been spotted. He looked up and saw a man in uniform approaching, a pilot insignia just visible on his lapel.
“What are you doing out here?” The pilot asked as he came to a halt a few feet in front of Dixon, a stern expression on his face put on to hide the fear Dixon could clearly see underneath.
“General Shepherd sent me,” Dixon replied confidently, thinking on his feet and using the only excuse he could come up with to try and get away from the pilot. “He requires more men over in the main courtyard. This area is out of use since the Osprey went down in the city. All personnel are to report there.”
The pilot looked at Dixon suspiciously. He wasn’t a ranked solider and therefore the pilot didn’t need to listen to what he was saying. Dixon’s words were laced with truth though. He knew General Shepherd would require more support eventually and having soldiers waiting in the hangar wasn’t doing anyone any good.
“Did he give you a work order?” The pilot asked after a moment, sparing a glance back over his shoulder and inside the hangar where just short of a dozen men and women will waited.
“No time,” Dixon shook his head. “This is an urgent matter. I’m to send as many men as possible back to him.”
“Roger that,” the pilot eventually said after another brief pause. Like Dixon, he was a man of duty and in a time like this he couldn’t avoid it. The thought made Dixon cringe slightly as he knew that was exactly what he was doing, but there was no going back on his decision now.
“You should all go,” Dixon spoke again, indicating to the other people still inside the hangar. “I need to complete my perimeter sweep, and then I’ll be joining you.”
“Roger,” the pilot repeated. “Godspeed soldier.”
Dixon let out a huge sigh of relief as the pilot jogged back into the hangar, rounded up those who still waited there, and started leading them towards the main courtyard. He watched them go for a moment before turning on his heel and jogging around the other side of the large stone building, the gate in the hedges just visible up ahead.
Now that no one else was around, Dixon let his legs pump and ran at full speed toward it. He knew it would be locked, but without any power he could easily climb over the top and gain access to the city that way. The drop was larger than he’d originally thought but Dixon braced himself and immediately fell into a roll once his feet hit the concrete below. Brushing himself off as he stood, he felt no pain, just determination. He was back on the streets of Washington now and he was going to find his girlfriend. The city may be falling apart but nothing could have that effect on him.
Chapter 12
“Take cover,” Harrison whispered to Len, his eyes scanning the area in close proximity to where the dead woman lay. If she had indeed been murdered then there was a very high possibility that whoever had done it was still nearby. The body didn’t look like it had been dead for very long, which only made Harrison more suspicious. This wasn’t something that had happened as a result of the CME, this was something much more sinister.
“Over here,” Len beckoned to Harrison from a small distance away, sheltering beside more of the crumbled building. “You’ve got to see this.”
Harrison furrowed his brow slightly before walking over toward Len, still keeping a keen eye on his surroundings for any miniscule sign of movement. His Glock was held firmly in his hand but what he really wanted was to find a secluded area where he could take out the A3 and try to take a closer look at where they’d ended up. The place seemed empty, but Harrison wasn’t foolish enough to believe that right away. Walking up beside Len, he halted as he noticed what his companion was staring at, his mouth dropping open slightly. It didn’t make any sense. A few feet away and out in the open there was a dead woman, her throat slashed and her blood staining the grass which she lay on. And then here, tucked away slightly underneath the jagged corners of the fallen building lay an unmarked, freshly dug grave.
“What the…” Harrison spoke under his breath as he stood dumbstruck beside Len. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know,” Len whispered back. “Who do you think dug it? Who do you think is buried there?”
“I have no idea,” Harrison shook his head, “but I’m starting to like this place less and less.”
Len passionately agreed with Harrison and was keen to move on with their journey toward Amy and James. They had no proof that either of them had been at the country club, or even traveled by it, and, after what they’d seen Len was more than hap
py to leave the place behind.
“Just let me check it out through the rifle scope,” Harrison continued, shrugging off his rucksack and starting to assemble the parts of the Remington A3. “I want to make sure there isn’t anyone else here.”
“Okay,” Len nodded and took a few steps backwards so he was closer to the wreckage of the building behind him. He too removed his rucksack and sat down on the dry grass, his eyes flitting between Harrison, who now surveyed the area, and the grave that lay almost within arm’s reach. It was very peculiar to him that someone had dug a grave, and Len could only assume that had happened before the other woman’s throat had been cut. There would need to be a great element of remorse and sorrow involved for someone to stop and dig a grave in these conditions; Len had seen thousands of dead people but not one of them had been given the dignity of a proper burial.