Phoenix (27 page)

"Hey, easy." Brad leaned up and put a hand on
her shoulder. She was in the passenger seat next to Mort. "We just
had to pull off for these guys. Everything’s okay. We’re just
waiting for the road to clear." He could tell his friend still had
sleep in her eyes.

"No, that’s not—" Izzy jerked around and
almost came up on her knees in the seat. She grasped the upholstery
and stared out the rear window. Her head moved like a chicken’s,
and her eyes darted around. It was dark outside and the lights from
the convoy had to be blinding her. Brad wasn’t sure what she was
looking for. Izzy fell back to the seat and leaned forward to grab
the dash. She gawked ahead at the convoy, then leaned forward as
far as she could to peer
up
through the windshield.

"What the hell are you looking for?" Mort
asked.

Izzy rubbed her eyes. "Something’s mis—"

A piercing whine ripped through the air.

"There they are." Izzy pointed to the sky
above them.

A half a dozen jets screamed overhead.
Instinctively, the three ducked their heads. The aircrafts flew in
the same direction as the convoy. Izzy relaxed back in the seat and
yawned. Adams sat frozen and wide-eyed, definitely awake.

"Mort," Brad drawled. "Are you
sure
this road doesn’t lead anywhere important?"

The older man was already fumbling with the
map and turning on the overhead light.

"What’s going on?" Adams twisted and turned
in the back seat, watching the last of the convoy drive by.

Mort held the map close to his face and
stared at it a long time. When he finally spoke, his throat sounded
like it was constricting. "Izzy, what road did you say we were on
when you woke me up?"

Izzy shook her head and rubbed her face. "Uh…
I don’t know, let me think."

"It wasn’t 8, was it?" The map started to
tremble.

"I don’t know, uh… I turned off of 17. You
said to take 412 and that if I passed Cumberston, I’d went too far
and to turn around and find 412. That’s what you said. Get off 17
onto 412."

"No," Mort whispered. "I said take 4
or
12."

"I thought you said 412!"

Brad reached forward and stopped the map’s
tremble. "Mort, where are we and what’s at the end of this
road?"

Mort raised his head and turned it so slowly
he reminded Brad of the corpses they’d been running from. "Four
twelve is what they
used
to call state route 8. And 8 will
lead us directly into Cincinnati."

The inside of the car filled with
expletives.

"No, that can’t be right." Izzy snatched the
map out of Mort’s hands and scanned over the area they were
supposed
to be in. "Oh, God… I saw a sign for this. I saw a
sign for this!" Her finger was poking Wayne National Forest.

"How long ago?" Mort asked.

Izzy’s face fell and her eyes met Mort’s. She
whispered, "Couple hours?"

"Should’ve took a left at Albuquerque." Adams
covered his face and leaned his head all the way back.

"Goddammit!" Mort slammed his hands against
the steering wheel. He gripped it, shook it, then slammed it again.
"We’re going southwest! You turned us in the wrong damn
direction!"

"What, and
you
didn’t notice that
until now? You didn’t see any road signs this whole entire time?"
Izzy yelled back.

"Whole entire time? I’ve only been driving
for forty-five minutes!" Mort was shaking. Brad couldn’t remember
ever seeing him this mad before.

"Can’t we just turn around?" Izzy asked in a
much lower voice than before.

Adams answered, "Yes."

"Okay, then let’s do that." Brad grabbed his
door handle. "We don’t need to fight. It’s done already. Let’s just
turn around and get back on track." He intended on filling the gas
tank from one of the containers on the roof. He didn’t know how
much gas they’d burned through going the wrong way, but he wanted
to do anything to help at this point. Whatever it would take to
keep the peace and get them moving again. He opened his door and
heard it before the others. Without mentioning it, he eased back
down in the seat and pulled the door shut. "How far are we from
Cincinnati?" His heart felt like it’d stopped cold in his
chest.

Mort turned around. "What?"

Brad met his eyes and knew his mentor felt
the terror that had frozen his blood. He also knew that Adams had
heard his question, and since their situation was urgent, was
probably asking himself questions. At least that’s what he seemed
to be doing, if his increased breathing, pale face, and trembling
limbs were any indication.

"Oh, shit. You’re kidding me. We
can’t
be–" Adams leaned forward again and stared through the
windshield.

Brad answered, "We are."

Izzy opened her door and got out. She leaned
against it and looked down the road, the breeze catching her hair
and whipping it back. The wind also carried the sound of gunfire
and explosions.

"Get in the car." Mort shifted into
drive.

The jets they’d seen earlier came screaming
toward them. They swooped around in a wide arc and headed back the
other way. Seconds later, blinding light lit up the night sky.

"Get in the car!" Mort hit the gas before
Izzy could even get her door shut.

Adams covered his head as though the bombs
had exploded right outside their door. Brad shielded his eyes and
tried to see what was happening. Mort jerked the car around, first
forward and then backwards, until they were speeding down the way
they’d come. Brad turned in his seat and watched out the back
glass. Explosion after explosion lit up the horizon, and they were
so close he could feel the shock waves hit and move the vehicle. It
almost felt like driving in a high, gusty wind. Mort fought the
wheel but kept them on the road, though he swerved back and forth
across the yellow more than once. Brad saw the jets make another
flyby, then more explosions rocked them.

"Jesus, what are they using?" Adams squealed
and braced himself against the door.

Brad drew on knowledge gained from Hollywood.
"Heavy duty shit." He, too, was braced against his own door.

"I thought you said 412," Izzy mumbled.

One final explosion and Mort over-corrected,
steering them directly into the ditch. The front left side of the
car dropped down into a deep culvert, kicking the right rear corner
up into the air. Brad was thrown against Adams and pinned him
against the door. Likewise in the front; Izzy was on top of Mort,
stuck between the door and the steering wheel. They’d all removed
their seatbelts earlier while gawking at the army convoy. Luckily
the car hadn’t been moving fast enough to seriously hurt any of
them on impact.

Adams pushed against the door and grunted.
"Get off me, man."

"Trying." Brad braced against the ceiling and
lunged for the door on his side. He grasped the handle and pulled
his weight off.

Mort groaned. "Let’s try to climb out of
here." He shifted around until his back was against his door and
pushed Izzy with both hands. She reached out and grabbed the
passenger door’s oh-shit handle.

"I don’t think I can get the door open and
hold myself at the same time."

"Hold on. I’ll roll the windows down." The
car was still running, so Mort twisted one arm around and hit the
window buttons. The one behind him didn’t move, but Izzy’s and
Brad’s both rolled down. "Now try."

Izzy pulled herself again and got a hand on
the sill. Mort stretched his legs out and steadied her with his
feet against her butt.

"Push," she said.

Mort pushed with his feet and Izzy pulled
with her arms. They struggled around this way until her upper half
was hanging outside the car. From there she easily pulled herself
out. Brad did the same thing in the back, except he didn’t need
help from Adams. He jerked and pulled and fell out into the
roadside weeds. Adams followed behind and Brad helped him out.
Together they hauled Izzy free. It took all three to pull Mort from
the car.

"Okay." Mort limped around to the trunk. He’d
hit the release inside before climbing out. "Let’s grab your bags.
I remember passing a couple houses back that way." He nodded down
the road. "We can’t stay out in the open too long."

"Shit, wait a second." Brad went back to the
front passenger door and jumped up until he was hanging inside from
the waist up. He fumbled around, then slid out with the map
crumpled in his hand. "Better not forget this."

Adams tossed Brad his backpack and shouldered
his duffle bag. Mort’s had been left behind in Laura’s car, so he
flipped on a flashlight. Behind them, a bright and steady glow lit
up the night sky.

What was left of Cincinnati.

"What about all this?" Adams poked around the
remains of their supplies. It wasn’t much: a few gallons of water
and some vending machine chips.

"You two, grab the water." Mort opened Brad’s
bag and started stuffing chips inside. "We can’t afford to leave
this stuff."

"Too bad the guns were in Laura’s trunk,"
Adams said and handed Brad a jug of water.

"Single file, stay on the side," Mort called
back over his shoulder.

He was in the lead with his flashlight. Izzy
followed. Adams and Brad brought up the rear.

"Turn your senses up. You start picking up
any noise, say something," Mort whispered over his shoulder.

Brad blinked and his internal radar screen
came up. It was fairly stable. The lines wobbled every few steps,
but they weren’t glitching and zigzagging all over the place. Since
it was dark and he didn’t want to run into Adams, Brad only blinked
his eyes every other step or so. Each time he did, a ripple spread
over the screen. He couldn’t be sure how far his radar extended
now, but the stability of the screen and the lack of green blips
told him there were no threats close. That was good enough for
him.

Mort led them at a quick pace, though Brad
knew his mentor couldn’t keep it up for long. Age and health were
not in his favor. He had no idea how far it was to the houses Mort
mentioned. He’d been asleep. If Mort had only been driving for
about forty-five minutes, then the houses couldn’t have been too
far away.

Brad didn’t wear a watch, so he didn’t know
how long they’d been walking when Mort whispered back to the rest
of them, "Almost there. Keep moving."

He fought to keep from climbing right up
Adams’ back. The sound of their shoes on the pavement made Brad
keep glancing behind him, thinking there was something following.
The only thing he could see was the constant glow on the horizon.
That made it worse. His radar still showed nothing, but his
imagination was a stubborn bastard. Other than their footfalls, the
night was still. No moans, no nighttime critter sounds, no gunfire
behind them. Everything had died. The jets hadn’t even come
back.

Brad poked Adams in the back. "Hey, what do
you think happened to the army we saw?"

"Sshh."

Up ahead, Mort’s flashlight flitted over a
mailbox. "Here." He motioned for everyone to gather close. "Do we
have any weapons?"

"Yes." Adams hitched a thumb at Brad, who
pulled something long from behind him. It had been attached to his
backpack.

"I’ve got this."

"Brilliant. Do we have anything else besides
a baseball bat?"

"No. But do these count?" Adams held up his
fists.

Mort took a deep breath and stared down at
the ground. After a moment, he raised his head. "Brad, you’ve got
the bat. You go first. Let’s make sure this house is empty before
we settle in for the rest of the night."

Brad swallowed.

"We’ll be right behind you," Izzy
reassured.

"Right." Brad grabbed the bat with both hands
and started for the front door.

"Wait." Mort held out the flashlight. "Take
this."

"I can’t carry that and this at the same
time."

"Well that bat won’t do you much good if you
can’t see what you’re swinging at."

"My radar’s working. And besides, what do you
want me to do? Hold it with my teeth?"

"Here." Adams grabbed it out of Mort’s hand.
"Christ’s sake, let’s go already." He brushed past Brad and
speed-walked up the sidewalk and to the front stoop.

Brad grumbled and hurried to catch up. Adams
stood on one side of the front door, Brad on the other with the end
of the bat raised to his shoulder. Adams mouthed, "1… 2… 3," and
twisted the knob. The door swung inward, he held the flashlight
high, and Brad tensed to smash something in the face. The air
rushed from his lungs when he saw the way was empty. Adams motioned
for the others and they huddled outside the threshold.

Brad faced the interior of the house and
blinked several times. His radar screen remained empty. "I’m pretty
sure there’s nothing in there."

Mort tilted his head. "Check it anyway."

Brad looked at Adams. "Is there anything in
there?"

"No."

Brad looked back at Mort with an
I-told-you-so expression.

Mort gritted his teeth. "Check it.
Anyway."

"Got it." Adams went inside.

Brad followed. It was a small house, which
helped. He wasn’t sure how long his nerve would’ve held out if it’d
been a larger house. The two men went from room to room, Brad
blinking continuously, eventually not even trying to be quiet. The
place was empty. Except for one bedroom on the second floor that
smelled bad and had some questionable stains on the rug, the house
was pretty clean. It didn’t have a back door, which Brad thought
was a positive and a negative. Good because that was one less
entrance to secure, and bad because they had one less emergency
exit. There was no basement. Each room had at least one window.

Mort brought Izzy inside and they shoved some
furniture in front of the door. He glanced over to Brad and Adams
when they came back downstairs. "Check around for some tools.
Preferably a battery drill and screws. Don’t bother bringing it to
me if the battery’s dead, though."