the runway. Seconds later, their vehicles were swarming around us.
Nat’s dad jumped out of the lead car and ran toward us, Bear close at his heels. “Natalie!”
Nat dropped down out of the turret just as he ran up. “Dad, wait! I had to—”
Her father’s knees went weak as he threw his arms around her, nearly dragging them down. Nat stiffened at first but then fell into it, clasping her arms around his back and pressing her cheek into his chest.
“I can’t believe you did that,” he said, his voice thick. “I can’t believe you just did that. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s okay. I’m fine.”
“So help me God, girl, you are getting in that helicopter this second and getting the hell out of here. You got me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, both of you, go!” he said, running off to organize the teams that were prepping the aircraft. “I’ve got work to do.”
Bear’s paws hit my calf and I grabbed him up into my arms. I didn’t realize until then how much I was shaking. I held him close, taking a second to breathe in the grassy smell of him.
“Okay, pal,” I said. “Let’s get out of here.”
The three of us ran across the tarmac to a waiting helicopter that had CHANNEL 9 TRAFFIC TEAM emblazoned on the side. The pilot was doing his preflight as we piled into the rear seats, Bear dancing at our feet.
“Never had a dog in here,” the pilot said. “Better get strapped in and hold on to him. Word is I’m taking off as soon as this bird is ready.”
“What happened to the injured?” Nat called up to him. “The ones at the school?”
“Don’t know,” the pilot said, shouting over the blades that had just begun to turn. “Plan was to load everyone that could be moved onto trucks and head east but it’s pretty chaotic down there. Now strap in and put on the headsets if you want to talk.”
Nat put on the headset and drew her harness over her shoulders. When she was done, she stared out the side window, her hands in a tense fidget in her lap. I pulled my headset down and adjusted the mic in front of my mouth.
“He’s okay,” I said. “They got Steve out and he’s going to be okay.”
Nat said nothing. There was a roar of engines as the first plane took off, with three more queued up behind it. Across the tarmac, another helicopter took to the air. I prayed the Path would see them for what they were, civilian evacuees, and let them go.
When the last plane took off, Nat’s father pulled in his perimeter force and stood on the tarmac, directing them to waiting choppers. Already I could see Black Hawks touching down at distant corners of the airport. Black- uniformed soldiers poured out of their sides and started toward us.
“Okay!” our pilot called. “I think the welcome wagon is here. Time to go.”
“What about my dad?”
“It’s okay — he’s with Billy.”
The pilot pointed to where a deputy was forcing Nat’s father into another chopper across from us. Their doors slammed and their blades started to turn.
The helicopter’s engine revved and I felt us lift into the air. Bear whined and I pulled him underneath my harness. The other choppers made it off the ground, and soon we were all up over the dark tree line. For a disorienting moment I thought an early dawn was creeping over the horizon, but as we climbed higher, it became clear that it was the town of Waylon burning out of control.
“Oh my God…” Nat breathed.
The pilot flew us in an arc north of the town to avoid the windblown clouds of smoke from burning trees. Inside Waylon the streets were black seams, marking the boundaries between grids of burning buildings. Hundreds of vehicles were lined up on the roadways out of town, but they stopped dead a few miles out. The Path had already set up checkpoints. Right now those unlucky enough to be stopped were being taken from their cars and massed into orderly groups for the beacons. I looked for signs that the Fed Army had arrived but found nothing. The town had been left to die.
Our trio of helicopters pulled away from Waylon, but the destruction didn’t stop. The sun came up, bloody and dim, through clouds of black smoke that rose from town after burning town. The Path may have come for Waylon, but they clearly weren’t stopping there. Nat stared down at the scene below, unblinking.
The pilot’s voice came through the static of our headsets. “Nat?” he said, turning back to us. “Hold on, I’ve got your dad. Billy, go ahead.”
One of the other helicopters rose beside us, a reddish dawn gleaming off its silver side. I could just make out Nat’s father through her window.
“Are you two okay?” he asked over the radio.
“We’re fine,” Nat shouted into the mic. “What happened to the hospital? Did they get away?”
There was a pause and a burst of static.
“Dad?”
“Honey, we don’t know. We can’t seem to raise anyone down there.”
“Have the Feds come?” I asked.
“Word is there will be reinforcements, but no one knows when. Sounds like there are battles going on everywhere now.”
“Where are we going?”
“We think we can make it into South Dakota. We haven’t heard anything about—”
His voice cut out and the line went from static to hurried voices all talking over each other.
“Dad?”
“—we have to turn, we—”
There were heavy booms below us. Our helicopter shuddered and pitched left.
“What’s going on?” I shouted up to the pilot, but he was too busy with his controls to respond. The helicopter next to us wavered, dropping out of sight before surging up again.
“Dad!”
A string of explosions thundered and then Nat’s father’s voice returned in our headsets.
“Don’t worry — we’re just going to climb to get away from this,” he said. He pressed closer to his window, one hand on the glass. “This will all be over soon and then we’ll—”
There was a roar behind us. “Up!” someone cried. “Up! Pull up!”
Nat’s father turned to us, his wide face framed in sandy hair, his big hand pressed against the glass like he was reaching out to her.
“Dad!”
Nat threw herself against the glass as the helicopter next to us erupted in a wall of fire.
18
The shock wave sent our chopper reeling, until the pilot somehow righted us again. Warning sirens screamed through the cabin, and the air was thick with smoke streaming in through gashes in the windshield. The smooth turn of the rotors above now sounded labored, straining, then slacking, over and over.
Nat was sitting limp in her chair, the shaking of the helicopter rocking her like a doll. I grabbed her chin and turned her to me. Her eyes were wide and there was a smear of blood on her forehead.
“Are you hurt? Nat?”
She tore away from me and drew her knees up to her chest, hugging them close and letting herself fall onto the side of the chopper. Bear was cowering on the floor beneath me but he looked unharmed, so I popped my harness and leaned forward into the cockpit.
The pilot was wrestling with controls that jerked and shimmied in his hands. Dials were spinning wildly.
“Can I help?” I screamed over the blare of the sirens, but it was like I wasn’t there. I pushed myself farther
