Yield (97 page)

Jacob
’
s hand reaches out for the fireman
’
s shoulder with lightning speed.
“
Now hold on just a minute, son. I think we can get a little food in us first.
”
His growl sounds more like an order than a request.
“
It
’
ll still be there.
”

After a brief lunch of protein bars and lukewarm water, they set out again. The rain soon begins to break.

Devin scratches at the wavy red hair sticking to his head, trying to shake out all the water.

Another mile down I-5, the concrete eerily starts to clear of all traffic. The fireman
’
s eyes dart suspiciously around. Abandoned vehicles have disappeared from the freeway as far as he can see.

“
I noticed it, too,
”
Jacob says.
“
All the cars are gone.
”

“
Why?
”
Devin asks.

“
Hopefully that means we
’
re outside the EMP radius and electronic components still work out here.
”

“
Blooming hope so,
”
Devin says.
“
We could use a bit of good luck for a change.
”

“
There
’
s the depot,
”
the general nods. He points to a large parking lot barely visible up the freeway embankment on the right. The top of the 10-foot
-
high fence surrounding it is lined with coiling barbed wire. The metal has rusted to a deep orange, displaying its battle scars from Seattle
’
s constant rain with pride.

They walk up the adjacent off-ramp and approach the front of the vehicle lot. Through diagonal strips in the metal fencing, Devin can see dozens of large green trucks scattered across the pavement. The gate is closed with a heavy-gauge chain and deadbolt.

A bright red piece of laminated paper is zip-tied to it.

EVACUATION ORDER

TRESPASSERS WILL BE DETAINED

DEADLY FORCE IS AUTHORIZED

“
Deadly force authorized,
”
Devin reads ominously.
“
Best hope you still have mates in there, General.
”

“
Shouldn
’
t be anyone here if there
’
s an evac in place.
”

“
I
’
ll let you go first then,
”
Devin smiles. He pulls the shotgun out of his black canvas bag and looks around. The muzzle makes a dull clink when he places it against the lock
’
s square body.

Sierra cups her hands over her ears, squeezing her auburn eyes closed.

The gun blast thunders across the desolate landscape. Echoes bounce for miles down deserted streets. No birds flee from the sound. Nothing even moves.

Uneasily, the fireman glances about. He was almost hoping for some sort of response: animals scattering, soldiers running towards them. But nothing alive has remained in this part of the city. Devin shivers.

“
It
’
s alright,
”
Jacob says, noticing the look in the fireman
’
s eyes.
“
Let
’
s just find what we need and get back on the road to Portland.
”

Devin nods. He slides the chain off and pulls the gate open with a creak.

Jacob takes the lead, Sierra
’
s hand protectively in his. The general
’
s steel blue eyes fly over the lot
,
i
nstantly assess
ing
options and entries for defense. He waits.

Nothing.

They walk past freight and equipment transports over to a row of 23-foot evergreen trucks. Even though the rigs stand as tall as two men, the trucks are still the smallest vehicles left on the depot lot.

“
Anything less conspicuous?
”
Devin asks. He looks up at the unmistakable green box cabin and canvas canopy of the military personnel transport.

“
They used to have Humvees, but those were all probably reinstated for combat. This old M35 will have to do. We
’
ve been using them for years.
”

The fireman checks the door, then braces his feet. Small shards of glass explode as he slams the butt of his shotgun through the passenger window. They cascade over him, shimmering down to the wet ground.
“
Let
’
s see if you
’
re right about that blast radius,
”
he says, popping the hood release.

Devin disconnects the battery cables and taps the connectors on exposed metal.
“
There we go,
”
he smiles. A blue spark of hope jumps from the steel frame.

“
Anything else?
”
Jacob asks. A smug grin spreads across his face.

Twisting the battery cables back on, Devin hops into the truck. His eyes dart across the cabin.
“
Alright, you cheeky bastard. What
’
s the standard parking procedure for keys?
”

The fireman pulls down both visors and digs through the glove box. He checks under the passenger seat next, lifting out a white medical kit.

“
Usually keys are checked in, but I
’
ve known a few disreputable plugs who liked to leave a spare under the driver
’
s side. Found it useful for a little off-mission R and R.
”

The fireman reaches under him. His fingers are met with the cold touch of deliverance.
“
Thank you, General!
”
he shouts. Devin
’
s body tingles as he stuffs the keys into the ignition.

The vehicle gasps and whirrs but refuses to fire. Devin pumps on the pedal, disappointment creeping through him.
“
Come on, you dirty bit
…
”

“
It
’
s probably thirty years old, Devin,
”
Jacob says. He lifts Sierra up into the passenger side.
“
Let the glow plugs warm up a little.
”

The whirring turns to a sputter, and suddenly the engine growls to life. The metal cabin
shakes
to the sounds of the rumbling diesel.

“
Yes!
”
Devin screams. The fireman leans out of the cabin and pulls himself up over the open door. He almost rips the hydraulic hood off its hinges pushing it closed. Two seat belts quickly click beside him.

Cranking the wheel over, Devin pulls the rig out and swings it back towards the freeway.

By truck, his family is now only three short hours away. Even though no other working vehicles are around them, the fireman still flicks on the turn signal.

Less than a mile down the road, they can see the bright green freeway sign.

Heads crane back in disbelief. Packs of survivors turn and wave pleadingly when they hear the military vehicle approaching down the on-ramp.

“
What do you want to do?
”
Jacob asks calmly. His voice is completely neutral, placing the decision entirely at the fireman
’
s feet.

Devin
looks warily back at them. Even though his compassion beckons, his foot begs for speed. Devin
’
s mind begins to swim with questions about the strangers
’
intentions
. His eyes harden.
I
’
ve got to get back to Kat and the kids,
he justifies.
We don
’
t have time for this
…

He pushes the pedal down and accelerates.

Jacob looks over at him
,
bit
ing
his tongue to stop the all-too-eager advice on his lips.

Devin can hear the general
’
s growling disapproval even though the man never makes a sound.

“
Bloody hell!
”
he shouts, pounding on the steering wheel.
Everyone has someone to get back to
…

The thought lingers, providing all the moral direction his racing mind needs.

Devin backs off the throttle. The high-pitched downshifting of the transmission shrieks across the silent freeway.

Jacob grins, nodding beside him.

“
Don
’
t push it, old man,
”
Devin says. He glances over at the general
’s
smug smile return
ing
.

“
Didn
’
t say a word,
”
Jacob protests.

“
Yeah, I noticed.
”

The truck eases to a stop alongside a group of six travelers.
“
Get in back!
”
Jacob yells out the passenger window.
“
We
’
re heading to Portland.
”

A scruffy man in his early forties walks around the rig and steps onto the side rail under the driver
’
s door.
“
Thanks,
”
the hitchhiker says, putting his arms up on the sill.

“
Welcome.
”
Devin
’
s eyes narrow on the man.

A hint of mischief flashes in the hitchhiker
’
s face. His clothes are streaked with dirt and blood.

The fireman
’
s hand was inside the bag beside him even before the scruffy man was around the front of their truck.

Devin pulls the coarse grip of a handgun out slightly in warning.
“
Just head into the back, bloke. Unless you
’
re looking for something else?
”

“
No, no. We
’
ll be no trouble,
”
the hitchhiker says. He glances from the dark metal of the pistol up to the redhead
’
s intense, green eyes. There
’
s a ferocity in them that makes him shudder. He puts his hands up and slowly steps down.
“
I just like to know who we
’
re riding with.
”

The hitchhiker circles back around to rejoin his group. After a hushed conversation, they all climb up into the rear bed and find their seats under the dark green canopy.

Devin pounds twice on the metal separating the cabin behind him from the bed. There
’
s a windowed opening just above it.
“
We
’
re good,
”
the scruffy man shouts in back.

They creep forward and continue south along the almost empty interstate. Just as the lumbering vehicle seems to gain speed, it stops again to the grateful shouts of more walking exiles.

Time and time again they slow. Tearful survivors climb up into the truck
’
s rear transport bed. They find welcome homes among the other weary souls before the rig finally fills.

Sierra lays her head against her Papa
’
s solid chest. Driving always makes her sleepy. She smiles, listening to the soothing beat of his heart. It doesn
’
t take long before her eyelids start to droop. The child
’
s limitless exuberance tries to fight it off, but her weariness ticks louder and louder
with each beat
. Finally, the little girl drifts off to the first restful sleep she
’
s had in days.

Jacob smooths back his granddaughter
’
s tawny hair. The innocence on her peaceful face is calming. Forgetting the chaos and tragedy of the past few days, the child
’
s love spreads warmth throughout the chiseled soldier.
“
What a trooper,
”
Jacob says. His gravelly voice
is softer than normal
.
“
Nothing seems to faze kids for long. You know?
”