Yield (38 page)

“
It
’
s not waterproof,
”
Chris says. The high schooler holds his huge red, white, and blue letterman
’
s jacket out.
“
But it
’
ll keep you warm.
”
His deep brown eyes waver, trying hard not to stare at the striking young woman next to Isabel.

Terra looks up at him with surprise. Her haunted blue eyes sparkle in the light. She slowly takes the jacket, holding it to her chest.

Trying desperately, Chris can
’
t seem to break her exotic gaze. The
sky
blue color of her eyes is like an ocean of wonder adrift.

Isabel smiles. An uncomfortable look spreads across her high-pressure basketball star
’
s face.
“
Here,
”
she cuts in. The flight attendant takes the jacket and helps put it around Terra
’
s shoulders.
“
It
’
s just the mom in me.
”

Isabel laughs as she takes a step back to look at the girl.
“
Oh, my.
”
Over a foot shorter than Chris, the small teenager is absolutely lost inside all the material. The red-piped leather arms hang down to Terra
’
s knees. Isabel immediately sets to work, rolling up the sleeves to fit the young woman
’
s slender frame.
“
Very nice,
”
she says, giving it a final nod of approval.

“
Looks like a dress,
”
Abd blurts.

Isabel shoots him an icy glare. The intensity in her eyes is enough to send him on his way.

“
Ladies?
”
Devin calls. He follows Abd ahead, soon trailed by Chris
’
s long strides.

Terra turns and looks questioningly at Isabel.

“
It
’
s alright, honey,
”
Izz comforts.
“
I
’
ll be right here with you.
”

Isabel puts her arm around the girl, ushering her forward to join the trek south. Others merge down to the staggered roadway. They soon create a caravan of the damned, walking quietly as the changed world ripples all around them.

“
Bloody hell!
”
Devin yells. His muscles tighten, his arms straining against the plastic undercarriage of a steering column. Lying on the floorboard of a slightly
damaged Lexus SUV, Devin
’
s legs squirm out from the driver
’
s side door. He grunts in triumph when the plastic finally snaps in his hands.
“
There!
”

“
Is it started yet?
”
Abd asks, ducking his head into the passenger window.

“
Well
…
no,
”
Devin stammers.
“
I just
…
”
His exultant smile quickly fades. He holds the plastic cover up like a trophy, but the Arab just stares back at him unimpressed. The firefighter sighs. He tosses the cover aside, lowering his voice to an angry mutter.
“
Give me a flipping second here, bloke. I don
’
t exactly keep a tool chest in my knickers.
”

Chris leans over the open hood to look back at Isabel and Terra. The basketball player
’
s troubled eyes soften as he watches them. Isabel wraps an arm around Terra
’
s shivering body, rubbing the silent girl
’
s back to keep her warm.

Devin touches several exposed wires to one another under the torn-open steering column. Metal graces metal, but there
’
s no sign of a spark. He moans. Devin pulls himself up with the steering wheel and leans back into the plush leather seat.
“
Would
’
ve been nice,
”
he says to himself. His hands trace along the soft, supple grips of the luxury automobile. Steeling himself for what could be a long journey, he sighs again.

“
Looks like we
’
re walking,
”
Devin says when he rejoins the others. Disappointment is etched into his face. He puts a hand to his lower back, trying to ease the deep ache spreading up along it.

“
What about one of the others?
”
Isabel points toward a handful of intact vehicles around them on the Interstate.

“
I
’
m guessing none of the cars out here will start, love,
”
Devin says.
“
Otherwise they
’
d probably be gone already. Electronics don
’
t get along well with big explosions,
”
he adds with a smile.
“
Funny thing.
”

“
Maybe if we get outside the city?
”
Abd asks.

“
We may have to walk a ways,
”
Devin says. His emerald eyes scan down the freeway
’
s broken edges, but see no motion. Only a few survivors mill about.
“
So, you
’
d all best get used to the company.
”

Chris groans, slamming the SUV
’
s hood. The teenager looks angrily at the southern horizon. His teeth are clenched so tight his jawbones bulge out
.
Chris stares at the
Arab
now clinging to them like a disease. His filth is invasive. Dangerous. Just the sight of him makes Chris
’
s blood boil.

“
Chris
…
”
Isabel scolds, her tone sharpening.
Yeah, I see you.
Her eyebrow shoots up to show she means business.

Chris reluctantly turns. The fierce Latina
’
s gaze has always kept him in check. But this time is different. He
’
s different.
“
What?
”
Chris shouts at her. The basketball star storms off, his thoughts as black as the poisoned clouds swirling above them.

Isabel watches h
im go, saddened and unsure. The gentle boy she helped raise is gone. The man now with them
―
so full of rage and violence
―
is more a stranger to her than the Arab. The thought terrifies her.

She pulls Terra closer. The girl
’
s shivering is getting worse. T
he rain has stopped, but the wind continues to whip into their thin, damp clothes.
“
You gonna be okay?
”
Isabel asks. Motherly concern fills her eyes.

Okay?
The word shrieks mockingly back within the darkness of Terra
’
s mind. Her normally pale face is almost pure white, except for the deep shadows cast over her eyes by the curves of her black hair.

“
Honey?
”
Isabel asks.
“
You
’
re as pale as a ghost.
”

Chris glances back at the two women. He sighs, looking out to the rubble as manners and instincts compete. It doesn
’
t take long before his mom
’
s voice echoes the lessons of chivalry in his ears.

“
It
’
s not waterproof,
”
Chris says. The high schooler holds his huge red, white, and blue letterman
’
s jacket out.
“
But it
’
ll keep you warm.
”
His deep brown eyes waver, trying hard not to stare at the striking young woman next to Isabel.

Terra looks up at him with surprise. Her haunted blue eyes sparkle in the light. She slowly takes the jacket, holding it to her chest.

Trying desperately, Chris can
’
t seem to break her exotic gaze. The
sky
blue color of her eyes is like an ocean of wonder adrift.

Isabel smiles. An uncomfortable look spreads across her high-pressure basketball star
’
s face.
“
Here,
”
she cuts in. The flight attendant takes the jacket and helps put it around Terra
’
s shoulders.
“
It
’
s just the mom in me.
”

Isabel laughs as she takes a step back to look at the girl.
“
Oh, my.
”
Over a foot shorter than Chris, the small teenager is absolutely lost inside all the material. The red-piped leather arms hang down to Terra
’
s knees. Isabel immediately sets to work, rolling up the sleeves to fit the young woman
’
s slender frame.
“
Very nice,
”
she says, giving it a final nod of approval.

“
Looks like a dress,
”
Abd blurts.

Isabel shoots him an icy glare. The intensity in her eyes is enough to send him on his way.

“
Ladies?
”
Devin calls. He follows Abd ahead, soon trailed by Chris
’
s long strides.

Terra turns and looks questioningly at Isabel.

“
It
’
s alright, honey,
”
Izz comforts.
“
I
’
ll be right here with you.
”

Isabel puts her arm around the girl, ushering her forward to join the trek south. Others merge down to the staggered roadway. They soon create a caravan of the damned, walking quietly as the changed world ripples all around them.

Just five miles from the beginning of his son
’
s exodus south, Jonathon Thomas helps his own survivors pry debris away from the entrance to KOMO
’
s underground parking garage. His shimmering silver tie lies beside a pinstripe suit jacket folded neatly on the rubble. He brushes back the short, gray-peppered hair from his forehead. Beads of sweat stand out along it.

Jonathon rolls up his dirty burgundy sleeves, lifting heavy chunks of stone thrown by the blast. As the last remnant pinned against the metal roll-up doors is removed, the grating sound of steel grinds upward. Dave drives out with one of the sat trucks, quickly followed by Jean in the news van. A cheer erupts from the remaining KOMO staff. They stand up as one to gratefully climb into their two chariots.

“
Give that man a raise,
”
Jon says, nodding toward Dave. He helps Jean step down from the news van.

She laughs. A glimmer of hope shines from her twilight eyes.
“
I already told him he could have my paycheck.
”
Her smile, usually so carefree and infectious, quickly changes. She looks back at the news vehicles
and the handful of survivors within.
“
So few,
”
Jean whispers.
“
Unbelievable.
”

Images of the talented people she worked alongside for so many years begin to fill her thoughts. She looks sadly at the faces that are left. They stare back with expectant eyes
,
begging for
reassurance.

“
How in the hell did we let this happen, Jon?
”
she whispers. An unusual tone of insecurity trembles in her voice.

“
I don
’
t know.
”
Questions plague Jonathon
’
s own mind.
“
Did we get anything on the Associated Press feed?
”