Alien Invasion (Book 1): Invasion (6 page)

“They’re fine. They’re in a better position than I am.”
 

“But
you’ve
got the Mystery Machine.”
 

“Her Beetle’s more agile. She can go manual and drive people over if she has to. The JetVan’s a behemoth. It was always meant to be a Colorado vehicle. Honestly, I don’t know how the hell I’m going to get it out of the city. And I won’t if I don’t hurry.”
 

Saying the words made Meyer’s blood prickle. He resumed frantically packing.
 

Extra socks. Identification papers. Taser
.
 

“Shit, Meyer. I am so not into this.”
 

“You’ll be fine. You’re outside the city, already facing the right direction. Just start driving. Check the traffic first and avoid the bad spots, but don’t rule out the expressways if they seem clear. Just be super careful because if you get in a jam, you’ll be stuck. I’d stick to surface roads. You have a good traffic app?”

“I have TrafficCopter.”
 

“And your car charger. And a few external batteries.”
 

“Last time you were here, you put enough mobile batteries in my purse to power my vibrator without a wall socket.”
 

“Good. So just … ”
 

“Almost.”
 

“Go. You may not be able to reach me on the road, so head for Vail, and we’ll meet you there. Even the foothills are better than LA. You’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. Okay, Heather?”
 

For a moment, Meyer thought he’d lost her.
 

“Heather?”
 

Sounding exhausted: “Okay, Meyer.”
 

“Try to call as long as you have steady power, like from your car. They say we have six days. Maybe the networks will stay up.”
 

“I will.”
 

“Take care, Heather.”
 

He thought she’d hung up and was about to tap his earbud when Heather said, “I love you, Meyer.”
 

“I know.”

Meyer ended the call and packed faster, knowing how quickly time, in Manhattan’s barely-held composure, was thinning.

CHAPTER SIX

Day One, Afternoon
 

Weekhawken, New Jersey

It took Meyer an hour from the time he loaded the duffels into the JetVan and drove out of the garage until he reached the Weehawken rendezvous point. He’d had to go manual immediately, taking the wheel between his hands and forgetting that he was supposed to be one of New York’s most respected private citizens. He’d ridden half on and half off of curbs; he’d annihilated two flimsy trash cans to circle obstructions; he’d nearly cut a homeless man in half when he’d been trying to sneak around some asshole who’d decided to load a U-Haul in the middle of fucking Hudson. As he’d passed, some other angry motorists had been arguing with the U-Haul’s owner — a man who seemed to be rather flagrantly loading flats of bottled water into the back with a dolly. Meyer wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought that just after he’d passed, those motorists may have seized the man, dragging him from the truck toward the curb.
 

Things were quickly going to shit.
 

Meyer’s prior assumptions seemed to be holding true: Everyone would panic, and their best chance was to outrun that panic. Trevor, ironically, had nailed the concept:
They, as a family, had to panic faster than everyone else.
Screw the seven stages of grief. Screw denial and bargaining and all the things the populace must be thinking about the strange spheres drawing ever closer to Astral’s radio telescopes. There was no time for any of it. The only way out was to be prepared (
check
, thanks to Meyer) and get the hell out of Dodge without flinching.
 

Only about an hour had passed since Meyer first heard the news. He’d already screamed out of the underground garage in his apocalypse-ready van. The general population had merely managed to run around waving their hands uselessly in the air like a Kermit the Frog freak-out. Knee-jerk fear wasn’t hard to skirt. It was the sure-to-come mass exodus that would be impossible to wade through.
 

Both halves of Meyer’s NYC family — Piper and the kids in the Beetle and himself in what Heather called the Mystery Machine — were well on their way out of town, packed and prepared, by the time Manhattan’s slow sigh began. Traffic was slow, but in a strange middle ground: normal workaday flow had dimmed due to the news, but panic was creeping.
 

He took the Lincoln Tunnel, feeling nervous. In concept, there was little difference between a tunnel and a bridge out of the city, but in the dark — especially if the power grid failed; hey, it could happen if the wrong people left their stations at work — people were edgier. Fear would be thicker under the Hudson, and if someone stalled, there would be no option to simply break through the barricades and push them off into the water.
 

Meyer seriously considered taking one of the bridges on the island’s east side (they were closer to the penthouse anyway) and circling around, but the loss of time outweighed the bridges’ superior (but slight) open-air advantage. Besides, he knew Piper would take one of the tunnels. If there was a backup, he might be able to find his family. The converse was true, too — if he went around and escaped scot-free but they were held up, what good would it have done?

Fortunately, the early traffic out seemed to be of Meyer’s mindset: prepared, paranoid, but overall more interested in getting out safely than quickly. The crawl was slow but proceeded through the tunnel without incident. Soon he was on the river’s other side, prepared to count the blessings of a god he’d never really believed in.
 

He pulled into the gas station just shy of Tonnelle and sighed with relief at the sight of Piper’s familiar blue Beetle parked beside a pole that had probably, once upon a time, held an ancient pay phone. A massive propane tank inside a high fence read,
LEAVE EMPTIES OUTSIDE PAY INSIDE FOR NEW WITH DEPOSIT.
Beside the fence, below the sign, was a picnic table. Lila was sitting on its top with her feet on the bench, eating a sandwich. Trevor was on the far side, possibly pondering something. Piper was emerging from the station carrying a coffee. Beside Lila was someone Meyer had entirely forgotten about.
 

Piper saw Meyer, dropped her coffee, looked at the dropped cup reproachfully, then sprinted toward him. The run was shameless and full of youth. A moment later, her petite arms were around him, her head coming only as high as his neck, squeezing almost tight enough to sever his breath.
 

“Thank God. Thank God, Meyer!”
 

“Any trouble?” he said, looking around. He’d left the door of the JetVan open beside the Beetle. The engine was still running. It was a waste of gas, but something in Meyer told him they wouldn’t want to be here longer than a minute.

“No. There was traffic, of course, but it was mostly civil.”
 

Meyer looked around. The area was still reasonably urban, but the worst of it was behind them. Soon they’d be out past 95 and into suburbia. From there until Morristown airport, things would get easier.
 

“We’ve been here for
ages
, Dad,” said Lila, her mouth full of sandwich. He had the provisions in the van, which meant she’d bought the sandwich from the station. He wasn’t sure whether to take it as a good or bad sign. On the plus side, the station was conducting proper business instead of being raided. On the negative, it was a fucking gas station sandwich.
 

Meyer stepped forward and hugged his daughter. Then he straightened and extended his hand to the boy beside her — a boy Meyer approved of, but who for some reason wouldn’t meet his eye.
 

“Raj.”
 

“Mr. Dempsey.”
 

“I didn’t realize you’d be accompanying us. Where’s your family?”

“Home, I assume.”
 

Meyer’s eyes went to Piper. She shrugged, so Meyer turned to Lila, his eyes taking in the scene. Past Lila, beyond the big propane tank, a group of kids her age were milling. They looked over. Meyer looked away.
 

“So, Raj,” said Meyer.
 

“Yes, Mr. Dempsey?”
 

“We’re taking a little trip.”
 

“Okay.”
 

“To the airport.”
 

“Sure.”
 

He wasn’t getting it. “Meaning we’re leaving New York. Jersey, whatever.”
 

“Okay.”
 

Meyer’s eyes fixed on the Beetle. “You can take it if you’d like.”
 

“Take it where?”
 

Lila wasn’t as obtuse. She picked up Raj’s hand and squeezed it. “He’s coming with us, Dad.”
 

“His family is here, Lila.”
 

“You want me to take the Beetle
back into the city?”
said Raj, aghast.
 

“You should be with your family. They’ll be worried.”
 

“Maybe we can meet up with them later,” said Raj.
 

The kid wasn’t understanding. It was as if he’d started the day with one objective — apparently to ditch school with Meyer’s daughter — and hadn’t yet cottoned on to the shitstorm’s obvious gravity.
 

“There’s no later. We’re headed out right now. If you stay with us, you’ll end up in … ”
 

“Dad,” said Trevor, arriving at Lila’s side.
 

“Trevor,” he turned back to Raj, “ … in Vail.”
 

“Cool,” said Raj.
 

“Dad,” Trevor repeated.
 

“Hey, kiddo.” He wrapped an arm around Trevor’s shoulders, but the boy stepped out of the embrace. Back to Raj: “You can’t just fly away from your family. Not right now, of all times.”
 

“So he should go back into the city?” said Lila. “Dad, that’s stupid.”
 

“Don’t tell me what’s stupid, Lila. It’s right. He can take the Beetle.” He took the keys from Piper’s hand and put them in Raj’s. “Here. It’s yours. You can have it. Merry Christmas.”
 

“Dad!”
 

Meyer looked at his son. He was tipping his head as if indicating something to one side.
 

Meyer followed the gesture and saw that the group of teens was approaching. As they neared, Meyer could see details he hadn’t noticed before: one held a bat and the other a gun.

Meyer spoke to Lila and Piper without moving his eyes (only slightly averted; they were sighting on the whole station rather than their group in particular) from the approaching kids.
 

“Get in the van.” He pushed the keys into Raj’s hand. “Raj, take the car. Hurry. And be careful.”
 

Raj looked up at the nearing group. They all did. The group had seen them, and was changing course accordingly.
 

“Take the car, Raj.”
 

“I’m coming with you.”
 

“No, you’re not.”
 

Lila was dragging Raj through the open side door of the JetVan. Trevor followed, and Piper, keeping her eyes low, made for the passenger seat.
 

“Hey!” yelled the kid at the head of the group — the one with the bat. Beside him, the one with the gun (a girl, Meyer realized) was raising it.
 

“We don’t want trouble,” said Meyer, skirting around toward the open sliding door. Lila made to close it, but Meyer gave her an almost imperceptible wave, asking her to keep it open.
 

“Just wanna talk to you,” said the kid.
 

“I have to go.” Edging closer.
 

“Let us talk to you first.”
 

“I’m sorry.” Now Meyer’s eyes were flicking between them and the door. They were just fifteen yards off now, not running but moving with purpose.
 

“Nice ride you got,” said the girl with the gun. “I’d like to check that out.”
 

“Hey!”
came a shout from the gas station.
 

Meyer fought the urge to turn toward the yell, diving for the door and scrambling into the driver’s seat while Trevor pulled the door closed behind him instead. The kids had all flinched toward the sound and now spun back, weapons up. They ran. Meyer braced for a shot, but the girl must have been too stunned to fire. He slammed the van into manual drive and stepped hard enough on the pedal to shoot gravel from behind the wheels.
 

They were away, safe but with five hearts thumping.
 

Meyer jockeyed the van onto the road from the shoulder, keyed autodrive, and closed his eyes.
 

He hoped things at the airport would be smoother. But he already had a niggling suspicion that this was only the beginning of an end, and that from here on out, things would only get harder.