Yield (95 page)

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?
”

“
The resiliency of our children might just save us all,
”
Devin says. His own two miracles wait just hours away.

“
Thank God for that,
”
Jacob nods. A growing hope ripples through the general. He looks down at his granddaughter and the untold promise she might one day bring to mankind.
“
I know this little one will change the world. She is so strong, Devin. Stronger than I ever was
…
”

“
I find that hard to believe,
”
Devin says. He sees an unusual look on the general
’
s face. If Devin didn
’
t know the
man better
, he
’
d think it was regret.

“
It
’
s just
…
”
Jacob starts. His growling voice hushes to a whisper. The general looks out the window at a changed world.
“
What does it say about you, Devin? When your deepest hope for your children is that they follow a different path than yours?
”
He pushes a lock of hair away from Sierra
’
s closed eyes.
“
Making wars is easy. It
’
s creating peace that
’
s the challenge. The world doesn
’
t need another soldier.
”
He
leans down and gently kisses Sierra
’
s head.
“
Do something better than I could, little one.
”

Devin clasps the man
’
s shoulder reassuringly.
“
She
’
ll be fine, mate.
”

The general turns to the deserted scenery, oddly quiet.

Sensing they need a change of topic, Devin flips down the visor. The afternoon sun is now beginning to shine brightly through the streaked glass.
“
So do you ex-military guys get any more info than the rest of us commoners about all this?
”

“
I have some inside sources,
”
Jacob says,
“
but none of the civilian lines have been working. Back at the refugee camp, I pulled rank with a few of the soldiers. The latest news from command says there
’
s heavy fighting in the Atlantic and Pacific. Some of it
’
s a lot closer to home than I think they let on.
”

Jacob stares past the dirty window. The freeway is empty except for the occasional newspaper or plastic bag blowing across the cracked pavement: industrial tumbleweeds for a new era.

“
I never really got used to retirement,
”
Jacob says.
“
So, I ended up freelancing for KOMO-TV back in Seattle as a terrorism analyst.
”

“
Terrorism?
”
Devin asks. Curiosity flashes in his green eyes.
“
Do you think that was part of all this? Or did these countries just launch from somewhere we couldn
’
t pick up?
”

“
Honestly, it could have been both,
”
Jacob shrugs.
“
Suitcase nukes. Long range ballistics. Most intel went dark with the rest of the West Coast grid. NORAD
’
s probably the only place that really knows for sure. Looking back now, there sure were plenty of warning signs. But,
”
he says, his eyes lost along the rough horizon,
“
I don
’
t think anyone could have predicted this.
”