Deadland Rising (Deadland Saga) (S) (30 page)

“How was the supply run?” I asked.

“The usual,” Griz said. “A whole lot of nothing.”

Clutch and Griz were riders, troops who went out on supply runs and scouted the area. It was the most dangerous of duties, and we weren’t surprised when both Clutch and Griz were “randomly” selected to be riders after they were assigned to the capital’s military division.

We headed up the steps of the Hotel, where everyone in the capital’s forces lived. It actually was a hotel, and the three of us still lived in the same room we stayed in our first night in the city. If we had tried to escape, we wouldn’t have made it fifty feet without being trampled by the entire force.

Our room was on the sixth floor, but we climbed all eight flights to the roof. We went up there to watch the sunset on every evening the guys were in town. It was the only place we were confident wasn’t bugged.

The three of us stood at the edge, looking across the city. I could see the entire capital from this roof. It looked peaceful enough, but we knew it housed people who didn’t care about other survivors, only about building a country in their own fashion.

“My flights start tomorrow,” I said.

“Tomorrow,” Clutch echoed.

The sun set, leaving only twilight.

Griz clapped his hands. “If tomorrow’s the big day, I need a drink.”

* * *

The following morning

“Good morning.”

I scowled at the man standing in our room. “What are you doing here, Peter?”

Clutch and Griz spread out on either side of me so we formed a semicircle around our intruder. After breakfast, Clutch, Griz, and I had returned to our room to find Peter sifting casually through our drawers.

He smiled and held out an envelope. “Phase Three has been given a green light. We begin spraying Orange. I’m stopping by every pilot’s room to drop off the flight schedule for today.”

I took the envelope. “You could’ve slid it under the door.”

“Yes, but I know how stressful these missions will be for the pilots. I wanted to be available to address any concerns you have.”

“Consider knocking next time.”

He frowned. “I wish I could change things. After all, we both want the same thing.”

My brow rose. “What’s that?”

“A world without zeds, of course,” he answered.

I shook my head. “I want more than that. I want a world that we can live in after the zeds are gone, too. You’ve nuked the south. How long before people can live off that land? Now, you want to poison the rest.”

“Orange is temporary. The rains will wash it away.”

“Orange is a hundred times deadlier than its predecessor used in Vietnam. You said it yourself. It kills
everything
. How long do you think it will take for nature to recover enough to sustain life?”

Peter clenched his fists. “It will recover.”

“Why has Aline set a one-hundred mile radius around the capital with no Orange drops?”

His face reddened. “She’s playing it safe.”

“For the capital but not for the provinces?”

He didn’t reply.

Not caring if our room was still bugged, I continued. “She’s not the president of the Provinces of North America, or whatever bullshit name you want to give it. She’s president of Moose Jaw, and that’s it.”

By now, Peter’s face had reddened enough that I thought he was about to have a coronary. “Go ahead and think whatever you want. But come this afternoon, you and the other pilots will start delivering Orange. You think you can disobey those orders?” He tossed an obvious glance at Clutch and Griz. “Go ahead and try it.”

“I never said I would disobey orders,” I said. “I’ll be at the airport in an hour, ready to go. I hadn’t realized freedom of speech was outlawed along with our freedom of choice.”

“Freedom of speech isn’t illegal,” Peter said. “As long as you aren’t talking about treason or hurting the country.”

I laughed out loud. “You, Aline, and her henchmen are hurting the country enough on your own.”

“Hey, Peter,” Griz said.

Peter turned in time for Griz’s punch. Peter went instantly down, knocked out cold. Griz rubbed his knuckles. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.”

“Now, that was freedom of speech at its finest,” Clutch said as he grabbed Peter’s lax form. He bound his wrists and ankles with duct tape and slapped a long strip over his mouth. He took Peter’s radio, checked the unconscious man’s pockets, and pulled out a keychain with at least thirty keys on it.

Griz smiled. “Bingo.”

Clutch and Griz dragged Peter into the bathroom and closed the door, leaving Peter inside.

They each checked their gear, and I went through my bag one more time to make sure everything was secure.

My nerves jittered like water droplets on a hot skillet. “I think I’m ready.”

Griz hugged me. “Be careful. I’ll see you when it’s done.”

He stepped away and left the room. Clutch pulled me to him, and his lips crashed down on mine. He held me, hard, while we kissed a lifetime of kisses in that moment. His lips softened as he held me, and he struggled to pull himself away. He rubbed a thumb on my cheek and then walked out of the room.

I took a deep breath and followed, though I went in the other direction. It didn’t matter if anyone had been listening in on us. The coup had begun.

Chapter XXVIII

I took the ten o’clock bus to the airport. The bus was nearly empty, and I suspected that most personnel were still in their rooms. The first flight wasn’t scheduled to depart for another three hours. I was one of the later flights, giving me roughly two hours before they would begin to load the orange-colored chemical onto the fire bombers and about four hours before the rest of my flight crew would show up.

The bus stopped outside the main hangar. I stepped off and let the sun warm my face. The air was still cold, but the early winter was already giving way to an early spring. I forced myself to act normal, though everyone had a nervous hustle in their actions this morning. Just like I did every day, I strolled into the pilot briefing room and looked at the weather reports before drafting a flight plan. Though, this flight plan wasn’t tied to spraying Orange. This one was for our escape from the capital.

The pilots’ missions were posted on a map covering a wall. Phase Three was being rolled out in a circular pattern moving outward from the capital. I’d been assigned to northern Minnesota today. Each load of concentrated pesticide would cover roughly 40,000 acres, which meant a shitload of flight missions. Iowa and Nebraska would be hit in less than four weeks.

Tucking the flight plan into a pocket, I headed out to the fleet of fourteen Convair fire bombers parked on the ramp. The airplanes had been modified from carrying water to carrying the highly corrosive Orange. My plane was third from the end, and I walked around it, doing a pre-flight walk-around. Akio was under the wing of his plane, leaning against a tire. I gave him a casual wave before continuing my inspection.

I did one more walk-around, this time looking under the plane toward nine long, white tanks sitting in rows off the end of the ramp. No one stood around them, not yet, anyway. Thankfully, the airport’s security force was small. Aline simply didn’t have enough troops to spread across the capital and the airport. Aline had guards posted at every gate, but once inside the airport, everyone went about their business.

I walked toward the tanks filled with Orange. The tanks sat out in the open. There was no way in the daylight to approach them without being seen, so I made no attempt to hide. When I reached the tanks, still no one approached. I casually pulled a gas mask from my backpack and slipped it over my head. At the first tank, I flipped on the power switch, grabbed the handle, and squeezed. Orange sprayed out onto the ground, and I quickly tied a wire around the handle to keep it spraying. I dropped it, continued to the next tank, and did the same.

I continued until I reached the final tank. By then, someone must’ve seen me or heard the pumps, and a man came running out. “Hey! What are you doing?”

I ignored him and hurriedly tied a wire around the last handle.

I fell to my knees and pulled off my backpack.

When I turned to look at the man, he stopped and his eyes grew wide.

I pulled out the pipe bombs Griz had made. Designed to burn more than explode, I remembered his response when I’d asked him if they would do the job against double-lined steel tanks. He’d smiled and warned me to not stick around after igniting them to find out.

The man’s jaw dropped, and he raced back the way he came. Then, he veered to the left and headed toward the emergency power shut-off valve for the tanks. The valve, kept at a small distance from the tanks for safety, was used to cut all power in case of a fire. He was too close before I realized his intentions.
No
!

The man stopped and swung out to hit the big red button, but someone jumped out from around the corner of the building. The pair toppled to the ground. Only one came to his feet, and he held a bloody knife.

Akio.

He watched me, and I pulled my gaze away to light the first pipe bomb. I set it down mere inches from the stream of Orange and ran. As I ran, I clutched the second pipe bomb and my lighter, ready to light it up if the first one failed.

But, whoa boy, the first one most definitely did not fail. I felt the wall of heat before I heard the
whoomp
of ignition. It pressed me forward, and I found more speed. Akio’s eyes widened, and he motioned me toward him. He yelled something but all I could hear was the sounds of flames growing behind me.

Like Akio, I wore a Nomex flight suit like all the fire bomber pilots wore. Made of fire resistant material, it served its purpose well today. Exposed skin in between my suit and stocking hat burned against the oven heat at my back, and I hurried as quickly as I could to reach Akio.

He ran around the corner of the building, and I followed, finding a golf cart waiting for us. He climbed behind the wheel, and I more or less fell onto the seat. He floored the pedal, but being an electric vehicle, it didn’t go nearly as fast as we needed it to go.

“That was the most ballsy thing I’ve ever seen,” he yelled out with a laugh. “I can’t believe you walked right up to ‘em and lit ‘em up.”

“Let’s hope it works,” I said, cranking my neck to look behind us while hanging on for dear life. Bright flames shot high, with dark smoke climbing. The air around the first tank morphed a split second before the tank exploded.

I yanked Akio down as I flattened on the seat. The blast hit us, and the golf cart lurched. As soon as I could breathe again, I sat up and Akio kept driving. He slowed as we reached someone who was getting back to his feet. “Climb on.”

The man, wearing the orange vest of a flagger, climbed on back, and Akio sped toward the gate. The gate stood open, and the guards were nowhere to be found, likely in search of emergency crews. Akio never even slowed as he drove us through the gate and toward the city.

I glanced back at the man. He looked a bit singed but otherwise all right.

“They have cameras at the airport,” Akio said. “Once the fire’s under control, it won’t take them long to figure things out. They aren’t going to be happy.”

“They’ll have other things to worry about.”

“You did that?” the man behind me asked.

I grabbed out my knife handle, ready to unsheathe it, and turned around. “We’ll drop you off at the Hotel.”

“Take me with you. If there’s something I can do to help, I’m in,” he said with a heavy southern drawl.

Suspicious, I eyed him. “Why would you help?”

His jaw tightened. “I’m from Louisiana. Listen, I know I made a mistake coming up here when they put out the invitation. I’ve been looking for payback for some time.”

I thought for a second and then held out my hand. “I’m Cash. This is Akio.”

“I’m Greg.”

Another blast sounded, and I knew the second tank had blown.

“Both of you, act injured,” Akio said as he approached the city gate.

I leaned back in my seat, and I heard Greg collapse on the backseat’s pleather.

Akio came to a stop at the city gate. “I’m on my way to the hospital,” he called out.

I winced through half-closed eyes. Greg moaned.

“Go on.” The guard motioned Akio to drive. “Hurry. And tell them to send help.”

Akio floored the pedal again, and drove down the main road. “Where to now?” he asked without looking at me.

“Can you get me to the archives?” I asked.

Akio replied, “I can get
us
to the archives.”

Greg leaned forward. “My wife works there. If you need a way in, I can get her to let us in the side entrance.”

“That’d be easier than what I had planned,” I said.

Another explosion, soon followed by two more. The entire airport looked like it was on fire.

“I think our birds are toast,” I said.

“Aline’s going to be pissed,” Akio said.

I watched us approach the city. Fire engines roared past us. “The party’s just getting started.”

Chapter XXIX

“Hi, honey.” Greg kissed his wife on the cheek after we squeezed through the door. “These are my friends.”

“Thank God you’re all right,” she replied, oblivious to our presence. “I saw the smoke. Everyone’s talking about a fire at the airport. What happened?”

“There was an accident with the Orange. The tanks ignited,” he said. “How about you go home and take a long lunch?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Greg, dear. What’s going on?”

He grabbed her hands. “Please, Jenny. No questions; not today. Do what I ask.”

It took her a moment to process his request. “Okay, I guess…”

He smiled and kissed her again. “I’ll see you at home. Now, go.” Greg left her standing confused as he led us down the hallway. “The radio room is in the basement.”

I stopped. “How’d you know I was headed to the radio room?”

“Besides books, that’s the only thing in the archives.”