Killshot (Icarus Series Book 1) (37 page)

Chapter 36

Smoke and Mirrors

               “How much farther?” Falisha asked again, shielding her face from Bella’s flailing tail.

              Bella apparently loved going for a ride and her excitement was not easily contained. From the moment she leaped onto the trailer, I expected to see her wiggle right out of her skin. She paced about beneath the canopy, sniffing and sneezing, her tail slapping at us as she searched for the best spot. After a few minutes, she made her choice and stationed herself at the front of the trailer, her front paw balanced on the railing. Her perch allowed her the best view and, based on the sounds of her frantic sniffing, the best smells.

              “We’ve gone, like a hundred feet, since the last time you asked me that,” Jake rolled his eyes. “Might as well sit back and relax. A watched pot never boils and all that.”

              “Ugh,” she groaned, catching a tail-slap across her neck. “Seriously dog?”

              “Ha! You just got
bitch slapped
,” Jake laughed, then quickly dodged an elbow. “Get it? ‘Cus Bella is a bitch? You know, bitch— as in a female dog?”

              “Wow,” Falisha said, one brow up. “Maybe just stick to being the smart one, okay?”

              “Everything okay back there?” Zander yelled back over the sounds of the engine.

              “All good,” Riley yelled, shaking her head at the bicker-twins.

              “Okay guys, get it together,” I said, clapping to get their attention. “So, here’s the plan. We will hit Zander’s first and see what we can find there. Then, after we scope out Micah’s dad’s place, we’ll all head up to the hospital. If we get separated somehow, make your way out to the old vet clinic on Highway 30, just outside of town. Everybody got it?”

              The mood on the trailer was a mixture of anxiety and excitement. The closer we got to town, the more on edge everyone got. We did not know what to expect when we reached Morrison, but the possibility of help arriving had given the group something to look forward to. Maybe things really would be okay. Maybe the army had food, shelter, and medicine. Maybe
they
had answers.

              Despite the distant possibility of rescue, an insurmountable wall of tension had erected itself between Riley and Micah. Less than an hour into the drive, Micah moved to the front of the trailer and yelled out to Zander.

              “Chinese fire drill?” Micah feigned a smile.

              After a quick driving lesson, Zander took Micah’s place in the trailer and we were back on the road. He crawled in next to me and laced our fingers together. I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes, rubbing at the sore spot in my chest. The wheels pattered against the cracked pavement like a muffled rainstorm as we rolled down Highway 30. Trees as bare and burnt as matchsticks dotted the landscape and slid past us in slow motion. The houses outside of town were few and far between. Most were either smoldering or had toppled in on themselves, hapless victims of the previous night’s freak lightning storm. The rhythmic bouncing of the trailer had just begun to lull me to sleep when the pull hit me like a line drive to the chest.

              “Gah!” My eyes shot open as fire sliced through my veins. I bit my lip against the pain as Zander groaned beside me, rubbing his chest.

              “On it,” Jake muttered, squeezing in next to Bella to look out the front of the tent. “I…I don’t see anything.”

              “I don’t think they are that close,” Zander said in a gravelly voice, pulling at his shirt as if it were choking him. “It’s weird. I don’t—”

              “Wait,
they,
” Riley asked, frantically looking out the back end of the trailer.

              “Yeah,” I said, straining to catch my breath. “It’s like…it’s coming from every direction.”

              “Awesome,” Falisha grunted, throwing her hands in the air. “
Of course
this wouldn’t be simple.”

              “Hang in there, guys. We are almost there,” Jake said, lowering himself back inside the trailer. “You two going to be okay?”

              “Yeah,” I said, closing my eyes against the pain. “Just…need a minute.”

              I squeezed Zander’s hand, breathing hard against the thousands of flaming hot needles poking into my chest. My head was throbbing and I tasted bile at the back of my throat. I slowed my breathing, swallowed back the burn, and tried desperately to calm the ache in my rib cage. Minutes later, I had still achieved only a small measure of relief. Zander looked uncomfortable, but he did not seem to be in as much pain.

              “Liv,” he whispered, squeezing back. “Liv, talk to me. Are you okay?”

              “Um, yeah,” I lied, not ready to open my eyes yet.

              “Z, we are dangling on empty right now,” Micah yelled back. “Not sure how much farther she’s gonna take us.”

              “Push her till she bottoms out,” Jake yelled. “We can’t afford to be stranded on the side of the highway.”

              “Park out behind the historical society, if you can get her there,” Zander yelled over Jake’s head.

              Micah nodded, gripping the wheel in both hands. We had barely passed the car dealership just inside the city line when the engine began to sputter and spit. By some small miracle, the wheels kept turning though for how long we didn’t know. I watched from the back opening, with Riley, and carried on my slow breathing, though it barely took the edge off the stabbing pain pressing down on me.

              A few minutes later, we crept past an abandoned gas station and struggled up the low-lying hill that stood between us, and downtown. The engine popped and clicked as it wrung the last few drops of fuel from the tank. A few hundred feet ahead of us gleamed the cherry-red brick facade of the old Odell Public Library. The building had long-since been replaced with a newer, more modern building on the other side of town, but it now functioned as the town’s historical society building. The trees out front looked barren and skeletal against the harsh orange sky, but the building itself looked unharmed.

              “Don’t you die, now, damn it!” Micah pounded on dash of the tractor.

              “Come on, baby, you can do it,” Jake yelled from the front of the trailer, with Bella barking her agreements at his side. “Just a little farther.”

              The Model D, shuttered and shook, as it crested a small hill. With a final pop and a high-pitched squeal, the engine finally gave up. Micah shifted into neutral and the D rolled to a stop, about fifty feet shy of the gravel lot, next to the building. The area around us was scattered with black pods, all of which smelled heavily of death and decay. When the rig fell silent, we heard the distant rumble of engines approaching.

              “Everybody out,” Zander yelled as he leaped from the trailer. “Micah, stay at the wheel. Jake, on this side with me. Liv, Falisha, and Riley, take that side. We have to get the tractor into the lot behind the building. Hurry!”

              “Stay,” I said to Bella, as we hopped out onto the pavement and took our positions at behind the giant rear wheels.

              The weight of the sun’s rays beat down on us and the distant engines grew louder. Together we pushed and groaned, maneuvering the old tractor into the back lot of the retired library. With Jake’s help, Zander disconnected the trailer and the two of them dragged it behind the storage shed near the back entrance.

              “Better safe than sorry,” Zander said, hunching over to catch his breath. “The old tractor won’t look out of place here, but a ghetto-rigged trailer would send up all kinds of red flags.”

              “Get down,” I shouted, dragging him behind a big green dumpster next to the library, as the trucks approached the front of the building.

              Everyone crammed in behind the huge metal bin and we watched in silence as a big carrier truck rolled slowly into view. Behind it was an open-top jeep. Both vehicles were manned with soldiers, each of whom had a gun; one of which was very, very large. The gunman spun around, waving what looked like a massive machine gun, as he scanned the area.

              “Hold up,” shouted the driver of the jeep, holding his fist in the air. “Goobs at three o’clock. Kappa team, tag’m and bag’m, and let’s roll out. We still have four more miles on grid before chow.”

              “Shhh,” I whispered, leaning in to listen closer.

              Five guys in army fatigues piled out of the back of the larger truck; each wore a mask and heavy rubber gloves. In one hand, they held a long metal stick and in the other a plastic bucket with a lid. They scattered themselves across the front lawn of an insurance office next door and, using the grabber tools, began to gather up the pods that lay about. Each one was placed into a bucket. The lids were secured tightly after each drop.

              “Do we really have to collect
all
of these damn things?” One of the soldiers kicked at the ground as he muttered to another.

              “That’s what the suits say,” the other croaked into his mask.

              “Seriously, bro, how many of these things are they going to chop up before they figure it out?” asked the first.

              “Hell if I know,” The other shrugged.

              “God, these things smell like shit rolled in burnt hair,” the first complained, scrunching up his face as he dropped one into his bucket.

              “Kind of wishing I had been put with CID for the E99 security sweep,” said a female soldier as she approached. “Gotta be better than scraping
these
up in hundred-twenty degree heat,” said the original complainer. “I swear my balls are stuck to my knee right now.”

              All three of them laughed at the crude joke. The quiet guy dropped the last pod, an especially gooey one, into his bucket. It landed with a sickening
thunk,
and the three of them hustled back to the big truck and climbed in.

              “Ugh, charming,” I muttered. “What were they doing?”

              “Looks like they were collecting samples,” Jake said, looking disgusted.

              “What’s CID,” Riley whispered, turning to Zander.

              “Criminal Investigations Division,” Zander muttered, his mouth set in a grim line.

              “Zander, he said E99 breach,” I said, rubbing at the pain in my chest. “Does he mean—?”

              “Probably,” he said, his eyes tight with worry. “We need to get to my house—
now
.”

              A few minutes later, the last of the soldiers finally packed it in and took off down the road. I guessed it to be around ten p.m., but the sun’s warm orange glow still lingered in the sky. It had only just begun to fade when we finally eased our way across the street. After a quick drink, we settled into our packs and set off toward our next destination.

              “How far to your place, Zander,” Riley asked.

              “Six blocks down, after we cross that next set of tracks,” he said, pointing to the railroad crossing ahead.

              He lowered his hand and I slid mine into it. I gave him my best it’s-going-to-be-okay smile. His half-hearted nod disagreed. We both understood what was happening, but saying it out loud wouldn’t change anything. The railroad tracks were the point of no return. From the moment we hopped the trusses, we walked along in silence.

              Zander and I led the group, with Falisha, Riley, and Jake close behind. Micah trailed back about twenty feet, his head down, as he no doubt struggled with every step. Bella scouted ahead, trotting a half a block ahead of us with ears perked as she sniffed and snorted. Every once in a while, she’d puff her cheeks softly as we passed a house but, for the most part, she stayed quiet. The ache in my chest was a constant now, but the incessant barrage had created a sort of numbness that made it almost manageable.

              The fire damage caused by the flare was similar to what we had found back in Fulton, but the smell was much worse— like burning meat and rotten fruit. Bella seemed to be breathing through her mouth in an effort to dodge the stench, but every once in a while she would sneeze and snort in frustration.

              There was no rhyme or reason to the devastation. One block of homes had burned to ruin while the next remained virtually untouched. The wreckage still smoldered, as the last of the flames slowly died out. Empty cars and toppled bicycles littered the streets, with pods scattered in between.

              Despite the chaotic carnage, it was clear that Morrison had at least received some sort of intervention effort. Some of the streets we had passed had been completely cordoned off. Many of the houses had been tagged, giant spray-painted numbers marred their front doors or dripped down the vinyl siding, itself. We passed a cute little blue ranch style house, with bright red shutters. The house was still standing and virtually unharmed, but there was a giant
0/4
spray-painted in red across the door of the attached garage. The next one had an
X
on the front door. The one after it said
1/5
across the giant picture window. Behind each of the marked homes, a thick black ribbon of smoke climbed high into the sky.