Bug Out! Atlantic Book 6, page 16
“Most of them escaped.”
“A few of them escaped,” Janey said.
“Think what you want, Janey,” Seth said. “I’m going across. Dump that phone. I’ll be back over here in about an hour if you want something to eat. Oh, and I’ll check for that silver Camry, but if I were you I wouldn’t go near it. They’re watching it for sure, if they’re really hunting you. Surprised they haven’t flooded this area yet, especially with that phone. Maybe the metal in the trailer messes with their signal.”
“Maybe they can’t really track it.”
“Do you want to survive?” Seth asked.
“Yes, of course.”
“Then you should listen to me. I’ve been around the block a few times. You just left the door of your home.”
He turned and left, waiting for a group of cars to pass, then sprinting to the median, waiting again. Janey left, going through the parked trailers, coming out the far side, seeing the truck stop across another ditch, walking through it, coming out onto the truck stop parking lot. There were semi-rigs here and there, more bunched up close to the building. She headed towards those, phone in her hand, not sure if she should really get rid of it, getting between two rigs parked side by side, seeing a toolbox fastened under the trailer, near the cab of the left rig, opening it, slipping the phone inside. She turned, walking back towards the rear of the lot, a man in his forties sticking his head out a cab window.
“Hey, sugar, you working? Got some time and some money.”
Janey stared at him, realizing he thought she was a prostitute, shaking her head. “Sorry, already busy.”
“I’ll be here a few hours, come on back. I’ll pay top dollar, you’re just how I like ‘em.”
“Maybe,” she said, not slowing down, heading back into the ditch, going to the storage lot, stopping, a security guard walking towards the group of trailers with two men. UN agents. She dropped into the ditch, in a panic, hoping they hadn’t seen her, backing up, getting onto the truck stop parking lot again, diving to the ground, watching through the weeds as the three men disappeared into the grid of semi-trailers. She turned her head towards the truck stop, the open stretch looking so long and exposed, her heart pounding, turning back towards the storage yard. The men were still inside, not visible, so she got up, running to the first group of parked trucks, stopping between them, turning, not seeing the men, looking around her for anyone else watching her, not seeing anybody, then turning back to the storage yard, the three men visible again, one of them walking towards the back of the storage lot, looking towards the truck stop. Oh God.
“Hey, you okay?” asked a voice behind her. She looked, seeing the forty-something trucker who’d propositioned her.
“You still interested?” she asked, feeling faint at the thought.
“Hell yeah,” he said. “C’mon over.”
She rushed back to his rig, going around the front to the passenger side door, climbing up as he opened the door. She slipped in, sitting down, trying to catch her breath, looking at his cluttered dashboard, pictures of his wife and kids stuck there with tape, a can of Diet Coke in the cupholder.
“Something’s wrong,” he said. “You being chased? I’m not gonna have to fight off some boyfriend or something, am I?”
“No, nothing like that,” she said, trying to put on a friendly face. “Just been a bad day. Last customer was a jerk. Didn’t want him to see where I went.”
He eyed her a moment, shaking his head. “You aren’t a working girl. What’s going on?”
“You’re American.”
He shrugged. “Sorry. Name’s Glenn.”
“Hi, Glenn, I’m Janey, and there’s no need to be sorry for that. Not even a little bit.”
“What’s the deal? Like I said, you aren’t a working girl.”
“Let’s just say I’m having to join a new profession. Where are you going?”
He was silent a moment. “Am I gonna regret this?”
“Do you like the UN?”
He got a scared expression, which morphed into hatred. “No, can’t say that I do. That’s why I’m north of the border.”
“They’re after me.”
“Why?”
Janey turned towards him, tears forming around her eyes. “Mateo raped me. I got away, but he’s trying to catch me, because I know things.”
“What kind of things?”
“They’re staging attacks on Americans from their Halifax base. Like that mass execution in Boston.”
“Dammit,” Glenn said, grabbing his Diet Coke, taking a swig. “Wish this was something stronger.”
“Where are you going?”
He glanced over at her, then looked out the side window. “Should we get out of here? How close are they?”
“They’re at the storage yard on the other side of the ditch.”
“Shit,” he said, looking in the rear-view mirrors. “I need to get out of here now.”
“If you take me, we can… you know.”
“Don’t do that,” he said. “Of course I’ll take you, and I’ll protect you. Where do you need to be?”
“Quebec.”
“That’s where I’m going. Most of us are either coming from or going there.”
He started his truck, the diesel rumbling. “We might be on the road kinda late. Next truck stop is a ways. You can sleep in the back, though, if you don’t mind climbing into a bed I’ve been sleeping in.” He put the truck into gear, and drove forward, getting into the exit lane, then onto the Highway 15 ramp.
“You’re a good man,” Janey said, looking at him through tears.
He shook his head. “Yeah, I’m out trying to find a prostitute for the night.”
“You’re married, aren’t you? You miss her. I understand loneliness.”
“We ain’t married now, but I still love her,” Glenn said. “I know, stupid, huh?”
“It’s not stupid,” Janey said.
“Dammit, climb in the back. Get under the covers. Sorry if it smells a little. See the roadblock?”
“Oh no,” she said, getting up, climbing into the back, finding the bed, getting under the covers, stuffing her jacket against the side where it was out of sight, the smell of Glenn surrounding her.
“Get ready to be quiet,” Glenn said, his voice full of worry.
She felt the rig slowing to a stop.
“What’s the trouble, officer?”
“Driver’s license please,” he said. Glenn grabbed it from a cubby in the dashboard and handed it over.
“American, huh? Driving on a visa?”
“I am, want to see it?”
“No, you can go. Here’s your license.”
“Thank you, officer.”
“Thanks for your cooperation, eh. Safe travels.”
Glenn drove the rig forward. “Give it a few minutes and you can get out of there.”
“Okay,” Janey said. “Thanks.”
“Sleep for a while if you want.”
“Maybe I will, if you don’t mind. Last night was rough.”
“You can tell me about it later if you want, Janey.”
***
Cary and Hector were in the conference room of the main bunker on Manhattan, waiting for Dannon and Dempsey to show up. They walked in a moment later, with cups of coffee.
“Ah, there you are,” Cary said. “We got forty drones retrofitted. Have time to learn how the missiles work?”
“Sure, why not,” Dannon said, setting his cup down, taking a seat, Dempsey doing the same.
Hector opened a box and pulled out a base with five rockets sitting on it, each about a foot long. He went through the loading process with them, taking the rockets off, putting them back on.
“What’s the range on these?” Dempsey asked.
“Half a mile, give or take,” Cary said.
“I don’t see any fire button on this thing,” Dannon said.
“Getting to that,” Cary said. “You pair missiles to roach target designators using the designator’s codes. A single designator can mark up to five targets at a time. As soon as you lock on to something, the missile it’s connected to fires and flies to the targets. You can stay locked onto moving targets too, of course, but I doubt you’ll use that in this particular operation.”
“Show us how anyway,” Dannon said.
“Do we fire these things from rooftops or the ground?” Dempsey asked.
“Doesn’t matter, man,” Hector said.
Cary and Hector continued with the training, taking them about an hour.
“You guys can teach this to your team,” Cary said. “We should place the Falcon drones near the target areas tonight.”
“We could do that, know how after our stint in the subway,” Dempsey said.
“You sure? We can have somebody else do it,” Cary said. “NYPD, for instance.”
“How close do we have to get to the target areas?” Dannon asked.
“Couple blocks, on roofs. We’ll fly them to the targets from there, using our control setup in the lab.”
“Are we gonna attack tonight?” Dempsey asked.
“No, we’re just setting up. The following night okay for an attack?”
“Yeah,” Dannon said. “We’d better get back to our base and tell the others about this. Should we come back here tonight?”
“Yeah, come back here, and we’ll send you guys via the moles. I’ll ask Tad and Eve to drop you off close to your base.”
“Perfect,” Dannon said. “Ready to go, Dempsey?”
Dempsey nodded, and they left the room, heading downstairs.
“Think this is gonna work okay, man?” Hector asked.
“The hardware will work,” Cary said. “I’m a little worried about these weapons being a good fit for the situation, but we’ll see.”
“We’re making a statement more than anything else,” Hector said.
“Let’s scope out some good roofs to put the drone bases on.”
“You’re worried about this,” Hector said.
“We’re hitting them because we have the RFID info, but I think it’s a mistake. I think we ought to place roach drones for surveillance only, and surprise them when they try to attack. We’re giving them a chance to change strategy if we hit them tomorrow night.”
“There is some value in testing the roach designators and rockets in this environment, man.”
Cary shrugged. “They’ll be of more use in the open, but maybe we’ll learn some things of value. Let’s go down to the lab.”
{ 14 }
Moon Roof
T he six cars barely fit in Rico and Duffy’s garage. They were mounting M19s, half of them finished through that step. Wick and Chippy caught on quickly.
“This is great,” Duffy said.
Rico nodded. “Does this expansion of our work force mean we have to come up with a medical plan?”
Chippy cracked up. “I want a 401K, with matching of course.”
“We’ll double your salary to handle it,” Duffy said.
Wick shook his head. “Zero times two is still zero.”
“Yeah, nice how that works,” Rico quipped. His phone buzzed. He grabbed a shop rag and cleaned his hands, then pulled out his phone, reading the message. “The armor will be here in a couple minutes. Best make a path from the back door.”
“Excellent,” Duffy said. “This is all coming together rather nicely.”
After a few minutes there were two bangs on the roll-up door.
“There’s the code,” Rico said.
“Your code is two bangs?” Wick asked. “That’ll be tough to break.”
Duffy laughed, walking to the back, pulling the chain on the side of the door, the others watching it rise, Chippy with his gun out, Rico noticing it.
“Nervous?” Rico asked.
“You’re not? Sooner or later the enemy is going to find out where our facility is.”
Duffy shook his head. “Facility? That sounds almost official.”
“It’s Kenny and the guys,” Wick said. “You can put away the heater.”
The bobtail truck backed up to the door, Kenny and Duce coming around to the back. “I was afraid this truck wasn’t gonna handle all the weight,” Duce said.
“It was a little tough to drive,” Kenny said. “Felt like I was towing something big.”
“The last supplier made deliveries,” Rico said. “It was easier, but he can’t get no more stock.”
“Why not?” Chippy asked.
“He stole all he could find,” Duffy said, shooting Chippy a deadpan look.
“You guys are a riot,” Kenny said. “Let’s get this stuff unloaded.”
“Geez, you did a lot while we were gone,” Duce said. “Weapons mounted on half of them already.”
“Yeah, you need to kick up the recruitment,” Wick said. “We got crews for these six, but there are more coming.”
“Let us worry about that,” Kenny said. “You guys worry about production.”
“We have to move the second Blockbuster out of the way,” Rico said. “I’ll do it.” He got inside, starting the engine, driving forward about twenty feet.
The team unloaded the armor plating, leaning it up against some cabinets and the back wall. Then they closed the back door and took a break.
“I been hearing bad stuff,” Kenny said.
“What kind of bad stuff?” Rico asked.
“Islamists, all over Queens and The Bronx. Even some on Long Island.”
“Where are you hearing that?” Duffy asked.
“Through our team from Queens,” Kenny said. “They’re seeing them moving around in groups of three to five.”
“We’ve had Muslims around here for years,” Wick said.
Kenny shook his head. “Nobody in the neighborhoods recognize them, and the local Muslims are more worried about it than anybody.”
“Shit, I don’t like the sound of this,” Rico said. “Wonder if Mayor Fine knows about it?”
“I got that email address for NYPD,” Wick said. “Think I ought to send something?”
Kenny thought about it a moment. “This the guy you met at UN Headquarters?”
“Yeah, Officer French,” Wick said. “I’ll send something to him now.” He typed on his phone as the others continued to chat.
“How long till these six are done?” Duce asked.
“Two or three days, depending on what kind of issues we run into.”
“Issues?” Kenny asked.
“We’re using different models of cars for almost every one of these,” Rico said. “Some take extra welding of structure because the roof won’t handle the weight of the turret. We have to make major modifications to the dash on some to get the remote sight in there. Now we got the trap door and the opening into the trunk to deal with too.”
“Yeah, these puppies are file to fit,” Duffy said. “They’re more like making Ferraris than Fords.”
Rico laughed. “Yeah, imagine these things at LeMans. We could just blow away the competition and cruise to victory.”
Kenny shook his head, the others laughing, except Wick, who was reading off his phone.
“You got a reply?” Chippy asked.
“Yeah, Officer French said he’d been hearing the same rumors, and he’ll pass it up to Chief Harvey.”
“Good,” Kenny said. “We should get going. You guys have work to do, and we need to return that truck.”
***
Pat fought the butterflies, riding next to Hymie, who was driving his Jeep Wrangler to the Sibelius house. Both had black-out paint on their faces. Pat’s bow was in the back seat, along with their M4s, some grenades, and extra ammo.
“You okay?” Hymie asked.
“I got the jitters a tad, but I’m fine,” Pat said. “Glad there was a good floorplan of the house.”
“Me too. I’m more worried about Clinton’s place than I am about this one, though. I’m also worried about Derrick’s friends at the base.”
Pat glanced at him. “You think they’ll turn on us?”
“That thought has crossed my mind, but we’ll see. This is still the best way to go. There’s West Mill Road.” Hymie turned right onto it, from Bethlehem Road. “Dark back here.”
“That’s a good thing,” Pat said, pulling her pistol, double checking the magazine. “Think you can drive into the woods at the end of Ensley Drive?”
“Probably,” Hymie said. “Looked like it from the GPS and the Street Level views. You never know for sure till you get there, but it’s a big open meadow. There will be a way in someplace.”
“Pretty sharp turn coming up, better slow down.”
Hymie nodded. “Yeah, studied it. Nice around here. Love to retire in this neighborhood.”
Pat burst out laughing. “We’ll be lucky to survive the next week.”
“Always have a positive attitude, missy,” Hymie quipped as he took the curve. “See, piece of cake.”
“Why did you get into the resistance?”
Hymie shot her a glance. “Your husband and John Clancy had a lot to do with it, but I was already tending towards it before I found out about them.”
Pat shook her head. “I used to give Craig so much shit about his work. Wish I could take it back.”
“Don’t feel bad about that. We all realize things when it’s time. You’re with him now. With us.”
“Yeah,” she said, looking past him out the driver’s side window. “Is that the meadow?”
“Yeah. Not really a meadow, I guess. It’s the backs of properties on that side, but they’re multi-acre places. I plan to be in the trees bordering the road.”
“Ensley is coming up,” Pat said. “I see the stop sign.”
“Yeah,” Hymie said. “Shit, logs on the road where Ensley comes in.” He put the Jeep into four-wheel drive and turned left into the meadow, driving slowly into the trees on that side, turning around when he got across the street from the Sibelius house, parking towards their escape route. “Not bad. Better than going in right at Ensley.”
“There is a lot of cover here,” Pat said. “That’s good.”
Hymie shut off the engine. “Be careful with the doors.”
“What about the dome light?”
