Yield (96 page)

The soldier turns back to Devin. There
’
s a spark of doubt on his patriotic face.
“
It
’
s a hell of a snare they got us in, though. China and North Korea on one side. Russia and Iran on the other. Hell, if I was just a few years younger, I
’
d be fighting,
”
he smiles.

“
Served this country for almost thirty years until my knee blew out. Never could fly a desk. I
’
ve gotta be where the action
’
s at. You of all people can understand that.
”
Jacob
’
s smile fades. He rubs at the reconstructing screws and metal plates inside his rebuilt knee joint.
“
Course, if they need me back out on the battlefield, it
’
s probably too late already.
”

*  *  *

Scattered pedestrians move along I-5, heading along the four southbound lanes under showering skies. A large group excitedly turns toward the rumbling of the military diesel. They wave desperately at the approaching green transport.

Glancing back into the cramped and overflowing passenger bed, Devin
’
s stomach knots. They can
’
t fit anyone else.

“
They
’
ll outnumber us if you stop,
”
Jacob says.
“
This rig
’
s already way over capacity. It
’
s not a Greyhound,
son
.
”

Guilt eats away at him. The fireman forces his arms to swerve around the begging crowd.
“
I
’
m sorry!
”
he shouts through rolled-up windows.
“
There
’
s no room!
”

Weary hitchhikers pound on the sides of the green truck as it idles by them. They plead for help and pity from those inside.

The sight of their weeping faces
recedes
in his mirrors
.
Families and children cry out among them, stumbling forward from fatigue.

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
Devin whispers. Tears sting in his eyes.

Seattle
’
s ruins fade behind
the
small group walking south along
a
once-busy interstate. The unforgiving rains started soon after the refugee camp disappeared from view, attacking everything below with its constant message.

Layers of ripped girders shear through the skyline far behind them. Metal rises into a black sky.
They
hang over the dead city like industrial grave posts for the forgotten
—
and
a warning for those still to come.

The fireman
’
s feet rise and fall with rhythmic urgency. He adjusts the shoulder strap from his black munitions bag, slinging it across his body to better distribute the weight. Devin
’
s clothes are now completely soaked through
but the rain doesn’t burn anymore
. His suit grips his body with a clinging chill. Only a handful of other survivors move along the split freeway with him in the storm.

At restive intervals throughout the day, Jacob has held, carried on his shoulders, or walked beside his granddaughter. The general, although intimidating on the battlefield, has patiently obeyed the little girl
’
s every whim. The bored
5
-year-old now rests behind his neck again, her small feet trying to kick away the rain.

“
Well, you picked a beautiful day to head out,
”
Jacob growls. He shakes his head, unable to stop the drips from running down his sharp forehead.
“
Couldn
’
t have waited for summer?
”

“
God knows what the world will look like by then, mate,
”
Devin says. He runs a hand through his red hair and wipes at the water clinging to the back of his neck.

“
Are you always this optimistic?
”

“
For the most part,
”
Devin says.
“
The rest of the time I
’
m a real prick. Life expectancy in my line of work doesn
’
t really give one much to hope for.
”

“
I know the feeling,
”
Jacob agrees.
“
You can
’
t dwell too much on the maybes, though, Devin. Or you
’
ll start to miss the here and now. I can
’
t tell you how many times I was worried about that next mission, or some promotion coming around the bend. My wife couldn
’
t stand it. She used to complain that even when I was there, I really wasn
’
t.
”

“
Sounds familiar.
”

“
Well, don
’
t let it,
”
Jacob says. He glances sternly over at the fireman.
“
I know it sounds like a Hallmark card, but life is just too damn short. One day you
’
re on the TV talking to a whole city about how crazy the world is. The next day, that city doesn
’
t even exist.
”

Devin turns to the west, seeing something flash in the corner of his eye. The town of Renton pushes up from the flat land just four miles away. Flickers low on the horizon
spark in
succession. A crackling sound echoes back across the distance, like explosions mixing with thunder.

The other side of the freeway flows with people heading to the refugee camp. Clutching whatever valuables they can carry, the unthinking herd migrates north along the government-mandated relief course. They join hundreds of thousands of others already on their way to the overflowing oasis.

“
They
’
re not all going to fit,
”
Jacob whispers. He shakes his head.

“
They need to go somewhere, mate.
”

“
Maybe. But there
’
s no way in hell that camp can support, clothe and feed that many people.
”

“
What are they supposed to do?
”
Devin asks.

The general is quiet for a moment.
“
I don
’
t know.
”
His eyes drift over the sea of bodies moving slowly towards the hope of salvation.
“
There
’
s no protocol for something like this,
”
he says.
“
It gets talked about in some circles. Little plans get made here or there. But a cross-country national disaster has never occurred on American soil. This was a multi-point nuclear attack, Devin. Nothing we could have prepared for would have made a damn bit of difference.
”

Southbound travelers start to disappear the f
a
rther Devin and Jacob move from the refugee camp. Those who remain are all bundled tightly against the cold Washington winds.

Abandoned vehicles are more spread out now. Some are parked gracefully along the roadway. Others violently embrace one another. Hopefuls periodically check the doors and ignitions, eager for the comfort of more efficient transportation, but they all begin walking on again into a storm of familiar disappointment.

A red sun rises above the interstate. It passes behind dense rain clouds, gradually arcing across the sky. The haze of devastation still hangs low in the atmosphere. Everything is colored with the same ruddy hue
as
the past few days.

“
I
’
m tired, Papa,
”
Sierra says.
Her white Sketchers scuff and slide along the top of the concrete. Her teddy bear
’
s back leg is almost completely torn off, exposing the soft filling from being dragged for miles behind the
5
-year-old.

“
Me too, Sierra,
”
Jacob says. He rubs at his right knee. The general
’
s limp has become much more pronounced throughout the day.

The cramping burn of his own feet finally convinces Devin to stop. He
’
s pushed them at an unrelenting pace all morning.
“
Alright then,
”
he grunts. The fireman sinks down on the side of the freeway.
“
Let
’
s catch a bit of lunch then, shall we?
”
Devin pulls a Power Bar and bottle of Vitamin Water out of his black bag.

He didn
’
t realize how thirsty he was. Alcohol or not, right now his mouth is too parched to care.

Sierra and her grandfather gratefully settle down next to him. Jacob grunts out a sigh. His joints pop sharply all the way to the ground.
“
I hate getting old,
”
he groans.

“
At least we get that opportunity, mate,
”
Devin says.
I
mages start to flash and fade in his mind. He
’
s fought it more and more frequently over the past few days, but whenever he stops now, whenever the world is quiet, his thoughts drift back to all the faces of the lost.

Debbie Yun. Abd. Isabel. The fireman tries to shake the feeling of hopelessness that now follows him,
wishing their dying eyes didn
’
t linger every time he closed his.

Devin looks out to the mass exodus continuing on. Weary legs drag exhaustion towards the promise of a better life. Individuals seem to blur,
their very identities lost in the unnamed pulse of the mob.

“
You
’
re right,
”
Jacob says grudgingly. The words feel like a foreign language coming out of his mouth. The hardened soldier could count on one hand the number of times he
’
s ever admitted to being wrong, at least in so many words. He doesn
’
t make mistakes.
“
I know I shouldn
’
t be complaining. Just getting crotchety in my old age.
”

“
Here,
”
Devin says, holding his water bottle out. The offering is quickly snatched up by Sierra once she sees the shapes decorating the label.

“
I love starberries!
”
she squeaks.

“
Who doesn
’
t love starberries?
”
Jacob says, passing up the opportunity to correct her. That particular mispronunciation always makes the grandpa smile.
“
I bet you even Devin loves them starberries.
”

The fireman looks over at the little girl. Somehow, happiness still fills her resilient face. It beams with hope even now, after all of the horrors she
’
s seen.
“
Bestest ever, love,
”
he says with a wink.

She giggles before turning her attention back to the bottle.

“
We need to find some transportation,
”
Devin says, watching the general rub gingerly at his right knee.

“
Don
’
t you worry about me. I can keep up.
”

“
Right.
”

“
If memory serves,
”
Jacob says optimistically,
“
there should be a military depot a few more miles south of here. A lot of decommissioned rigs pass through it. We might get lucky.
”
He grins back at Devin.
“
You look like you
’
re getting tired of walking anyway.
”

“
Well, let
’
s get a move on then, General,
”
Devin smiles. He starts to stand, his eyes narrowing at the general
’
s bluff.