“You remember all that from your flying?” She sounded impressed.
He was about to come back at her with a pithy comment, but a strong gust of wind slapped against them as they crossed the bridge over the highway. His adrenal gland spit out an emergency supply of go-juice as he held onto the wheel. “Holy crap!”
Emily grabbed onto the door handle.
Once across, the wind settled down to the way it was—abusive, but not deadly.
She laughed. “I guess you were right. The wind is coming from the west. There’s no way the big storm can reverse course.”
Ted held the wheel with determination, sure another gust was about to strike at any moment. He maintained that belief for ten or fifteen minutes before relenting and lowering his guard.
In one small town, he used his supplies to siphon gas. It only had three streets—the main two-lane they’d come in on, and then ones to the east and west of the roadway, creating a little bubble of civilization about a hundred yards square.
“Welcome to Nowheresville,” he said, walking past her window.
“This place doesn’t have a name?” Emily asked.
“Don’t know. I guess old town names don’t mean anything these days. We can call it whatever we want.” The wind came up again. Since he was out of the cab, he took the brunt of the gust, and a ton of dust and dirt, right in the face.
“If we stick around, I might call this place Dustburg.”
As he finished up, he happened to look down the road in the direction they were headed. At first, he thought he saw movement, but continued vigilance revealed nothing.
“We should get moving,” he said nonchalantly to Emily, who’d remained in the cab.
“You need me to drive?” she replied.
“Naw, I’m used to long periods of boredom like this. On some flights, I’d spend sixteen hours in my little ride-along desk, doing nothing but waiting for the pilot to get sick.” As much as he’d been anxious to get into the big chair back then, he was now anxious to return to those simple times.
“Well, I’m here if you need me. When we cleaned that house, I threw extra food in the back.”
“Uh, half-thawed chicken?” They’d pulled out all the food they’d shoved into the engine bay. For his part, he threw it on the garage floor, since it had been ripped and spent time in contact with the greasy motor compartment.
She chuckled at him. “No, silly, I meant the other place. The soccer-mom house. We have Twinkies, remember?”
He perked up. “How could I forget?”
Ted closed the gas cap, stowing the can and hose, but gave one last look at the road ahead. This time, the roadway wasn’t empty. A motorcycle came over a rise in the pavement. Then several more appeared behind the leader.
“Crap! We’ve got company.” The men on the bikes were less than a mile away. There was no logical reason for he and Emily to fear them, however. They were all supposed to be on the same team.
“What do we do?” Emily sat up straight and reached in the back for her rifle.
Calmly, and without any haste whatsoever, he climbed inside the cab and shut the door. He rolled the window down and held his hand out, as if instantly bored of waiting. His insides went into Slinky mode, bouncing and hopping in random directions.
“This isn’t going to be pretty,” he said with a raspy voice. The wind and dry air, plus fear itself, coated his throat like sandpaper. “We have nowhere to hide. No backup. These guys aren’t techs or newscasters. They’re soldiers in the same uniforms as us. If they ask us anything beyond how’s the weather, they’ll figure out we’re imposters. They might already know who we are…”
“Tell me what to do,” Emily said, displaying remarkable calm.
He went over the plan in the sixty seconds he had left. As expected, the group of seven riders pulled right up to his SUV. Ted waved, ensuring they saw his black uniform. Theirs were black, too, and their hogs were the same model as the guys back in Minot. The guys with flamethrowers.
“Have your rifle close. We’ll only get one chance,” he said quietly.
NORAD Black Site Sierra 7, CO
“Wake up! Feeding time!” The man’s shouts were followed by metal banging on metal.
Dwight woke up under the office desk. He’d taken his cot and laid it on its side, then dragged it in front of the opening. It made him feel the comfort of confinement and safety in the overnight hours, even while in the strange place.
When he emerged from his hole, the lights had come on automatically, and a tray of food was already at his door.
“This is really great service, huh, Poppy?” After he’d said the words, he scanned the office for his imaginary bird. He’d spoken to her out of habit.
He stretched on the walk to the door, feeling well-rested and ready for the day. As he got there, he remembered exactly where he was, which hit him in the face like a crème pie.
“My memory is all coming back,” he said aloud.
“That’s great,” Jacob replied from across the hall. “Then you’ll be looking forward to getting sick again today.” He sighed loudly. “We both will.”
“I do remember it all,” he said with awe. “I was in a shipping container. Then you found me, provided some food, and put me in a new suit. I stole a motorcycle. I watched a dam break apart. Then I—” He halted, realizing his revelation was incriminating.
Jacob laughed. “Yeah, say it. Then you killed those men. You might as well admit it. They already know everything. They’re always listening, and you talk in your sleep louder than you do in the day.”
“Poppy, is this true?” He checked the office, knowing she wasn’t there, but still unable to throw off the habit of talking to the one friend who’d stuck with him through it all.
After a short
