Yield (89 page)

Jonathon
, he hears Jean
’
s voice scream out in his mind. Her hand stretches toward the window of the news van before disappearing below the black waters. He thinks of her smile. Her love. How she would lean up expectantly, even in the rain, for that one last kiss
…

The ever-present courage that always filled her violet eyes spreads inside him. His body begins to tingle,
gradually
at first, before flooding him with a calming rage.

Jonathon screams out as he lunges at the closest attacker. His athletic build crosses the distance in an instant, slamming into the much shorter man before he can take aim. The force throws them both into the two other gunmen, sending them all crashing to the concrete.

Jonathon
’
s large hands dig into the sides of the Korean
’
s head. He slams it over and over into the asphalt, feeling the back of the man
’
s skull cave in. Jon takes the gun out of the North Korean
’
s dead hands and rolls just as one of the other soldiers opens fire.

Jonathon
’
s legs churn against the ground, trying to pick up speed, but his dress shoes slip out from underneath him.
Jon
falls to his side and rolls again, aiming the gun back towards the two green uniforms closing in.

The weapon bucks into Jonathon
’
s chest and drifts upward, shooting bullets in an arcing path. They hit the second gunman in the stomach and throat before the glowing knives travel up into the ceiling.

The third soldier leaps to the side. He returns fire at the intimidating black man scrambling away along the ground.

Bullets slice through Jonathon
’
s lower back and shoulder right as he stands. The burning flash seems to tear across his entire body. His legs buckle, the strength to move them suddenly eaten away.

Jonathon collapses to the ground. His navy blue eyes darken.

He blinks over at the rear door of the sat truck rolling upward.
“
Neal
…
”
Jonathon tries to shout. The blurring haze in his eyes makes it so hard to focus.

KOMO
’
s photographer kneels beside his XDCam in the back of the sat truck. Neal
’
s shaking hands are up above his head.
“
Journalist!
”
he shouts.
“
I
’
m a journalist. We
’
re unarmed!
”

The North Korean
’
s eyes narrow, looking from the camera lens up to the trembling man. He hesitates for only a moment.

The weapon lets loose from the soldier
’
s grip, firing over and over again. Blasts of light cut across the Korean
’
s emotionless brow. They flicker violently in his eyes.

Neal recoils and tumbles over onto the twisted limbs of his friends.

After the weapon
’
s sentences are complete, the soldier turns and leaves without a sound, checking neither his fellow servicemen nor the enemy bodies that lay bleeding inside the garage. He simply stalks down the curving walkway and out into the black.

The soldier slams another clip into his machine gun, readying it again to fulfill its fatal purpose.

Silence fills the parking structure. The dim starlight weakens under the cloak of new clouds. Rain begins to fall, the tears splashing gently onto the hood of the sat truck.

The sound grows and calms Jonathon even as he lies dying on the asphalt. Fog spreads across his eyes. His lids grow heavier with every forced blink.

“
Jonathon,
”
a voice whispers in the distance. He turns toward it but sees only frayed darkness.

“
Jon!
”
it says more intently.

The black man opens his eyes again, slowly bringing them into focus.
“
I
’
m here
…
”
Jonathon gasps. He soon sees stubble-filled shadows lining both sides of a young face.

Dave leans over him, pushing on the wounds to slow his bleeding.

Jonathon fights back the weariness in his eyes, trying to smile up at the engineer. Even as he struggles to stay awake, Jon drifts off again to the sounds of rainfall echoing and fading all around.

A new sun rises over the waking refugee camp. Emerald tents flap quickly in the brisk morning wind, the sounds of nylon and polyester snapping into a low roar. Bodies grudgingly move. Their sleep-filled eyes dart around, confused and unfamiliar with what they see. Fresh depression spreads like the morning dew when they
grasp
the changed reality that surrounds them.

Most rise to find the first warm breakfast they
’
ve had for several days. Others search for information or ways to get word to their families. They join many more already standing in the lengthening lines.

Chris
’
s mouth drops open into a huge yawn. He could have used at least a couple more hours of sleep, especially after last night. But instead, he walks diligently beside Terra towards the information booth.

He puts his right arm securely over her shoulders, creating a protective barrier around Terra and the newborn baby in her arms. His mind races with uncertainty every time he looks down at the little girl. She fills him with a storm of doubt and responsibility he
’
s never felt before.

Gently, Chris pulls the blanket up around the sides of the child
’
s face to block the wind. His hand grazes one of her soft cheeks. The baby
’
s deep chocolate eyes open.

Chris gasps.

They look exactly like Isabel
’
s. Flecks of light brown color a darkened earth. The similarity catches in his throat. Chris blinks several times before looking away.

He coughs, trying to force it all down again
—
t
rying to forget the sharp ache of loss that still cuts through him with ease.

The bustle of activity is everywhere. It looks more like a Saturday street market than a camp in the aftermath of disaster. People
pulse
and move, teeming towards their destinations with renewed purpose.

Soldiers walk in pairs within the pack. Their weapons are angled downward, but their outstretched fingers rest beside triggers just in case. Fear is etched into their young eyes. Frequently, they glance overhead. There is no blue left in the overcast sky; only varying shades of gray drift on.

Chris rubs at the leather sleeves of his letterman jacket still draped around Terra
’
s body.
“
You sure you guys are warm enough?
”
Lines cut across Chris
’
s forehead as he looks at them, the wrinkles more protective than normal.

The thick jacket is pulled all the way up to Terra
’
s neck. With the coat snapped closed, Terra
’
s head protrudes from it like a turtle from a shell.
“
Oh yeah,
”
the teenager
’
s soft voice whispers.
“
Just like wearing a sleeping bag.
”
She nudges playfully into him, scooting closer to block the wind.

“
Hey now,
”
Chris smiles. He leans down and kisses the top of her head without even thinking.

She looks over in surprise. Her sapphire eyes light up before darting down again.

“
I
’
ve got a lot of memories in that thing,
”
Chris says.
“
We
’
ve won tournaments. Survived high school. Even made it through a few break-ups together.
”

Terra
’
s eyes narrow.
“
A few, huh?
”

Mid-defense, Chris
’
s feet suddenly stop. The basketball star turns toward an unmistakable accent at the front of the information line.

Devin
’
s voice gets louder and louder as he argues with the unfortunate public information officer. Jacob is standing next to him, Sierra clutched in his arms.
“
I don
’
t give a blooming shite about your procedure, mate. I am getting to Portland,
”
Devin insists. He leans over the table, his hands clenching. The canvas munitions bag still hangs from his shoulder.
“
There
’
s got to be something going south.
”

“
They
’
re for military personnel only, sir.
”

“
I am military, son,
”
Jacob growls.
“
Brigadier General, Army Airborne. This man needs transport out of the hot zone. I suggest you find a way to make that happen.
”

“
I
’
m sorry, General,
”
the soldier says. He squirms under Jacob
’
s fierce blue eyes.
“
But everything
’
s been committed to the combat area.
”

“
Unacceptable,
”
Jacob barks.
“
Who
’
s your C.O.?
”

“
C.O.?
”
the soldier stalls.

“
Your commanding officer, son! What the hell did they teach you at boot? What is your C.O.
’
s name?
”

“
My C.O.
’
s missing in action, General,
”
the information officer whispers.

“
What?
”

“
He went out on coastal recon with some brass last night. No one reported back.
”

“
Bloody hell,
”
Devin says.

“
So, what
’
s your chain of command then?
”
Jacob asks.

“
I
…
”
the acne-faced soldier stammers.
“
I don
’
t know yet, General. We
’
re all just following the same orders we had yesterday.
”

“
You
’
ve got to be kidding me,
”
Jacob says.
“
This is wartime, son.
”

“
Can I at least contact my family to let them know I
’
m alright?
”
Devin interrupts.

“
You can add your name to the list,
”
the soldier says.
“
There are only a few working phone lines right now.
”

Devin shakes his head.
“
So I can
’
t call them now? We
’
ve been waiting in this bloody line for over two hours!
”

“
We have to relay the message for you,
”
the soldier hesitates,
“
for security purposes.
”

“
Security purposes,
”
Devin scoffs.
“
Did freedom of speech die so quickly?
”

“
Just policy, sir.
”

Devin looks back at the boy-soldier, realizing the unprepared info clerk is absolutely powerless to bend regulations.
“
Alright. My wife
’
s name is
…
”

“
Fill this out and bring it back,
”
the soldier interrupts. He hands the redhead several forms.
“
We should be able to get to yours in the next couple of days.
”