Finest Hour (23 page)

Thinking that Mason was talking to him, Cobb said, “No weapons, but there’s plenty of ammo.” He lifted up a handful of 5.56 mm M855A1 ammunition and let it trickle through his fingers. “We should take some of it with us.”

Mason shook his head. “Before we expend the energy carrying pallets of ammunition out to the truck, let’s finish searching the igloos. If we have time, we’ll come back.”

Cobb shrugged. “Whatever you say, Marshal.”

“You do what you want,” Rodriguez said, stuffing his pockets with 9 mm rounds. “I’m loading up while I have the chance.”

Mason didn’t really blame him. Piles of ammunition often gave soldiers a sense of security, sometimes warranted, sometimes not.

“Finish up and be out front in two minutes.” He turned and headed back outside.

When the team regrouped at the deuce-and-a-half, Rodriguez’s pants were nearly falling down from the weight of the extra ammunition. Mason said nothing. It was a lesson he would have to learn on his own.

Bell looked down the road toward the next igloo. It was about a football field away.

“Sir, would it be better to walk or drive?”

“Until we see a need to move quietly, let’s keep the truck close by. Besides,” he said with a grin, “I’d hate for Rodriguez to collapse under his own weight.”

Chapter 14  

The drive from Luray to Washington, D.C., went about as expected. Traffic grew thicker and thicker, and as they reached the outskirts of Arlington, even the side roads were becoming impassible by car. They eventually abandoned Highway 29 in favor of the less congested County Road 236. As the road approached Alexandria, they turned back north onto Washington Street, hoping to find a way through the logjam. Despite their maneuvering, it wasn’t long before they found themselves completely out of open roadway.

Straddling the sidewalk, with one tire spinning in the grass and another trying to climb a small brick wall, Tanner finally gave up and shut the car off.

“Looks like we’re on foot from here.”

Samantha opened her door and donned her pack and rifle.

“Are we going to cross over one of the bridges?”

“Have to,” he said, slipping on his own pack.

She stared ahead but saw only block after block of restaurants and boutique stores.

“How far do you think it is?”

“Can’t be more than two or three miles.”

She tipped her face to the sky and felt the comforting warmth of the sun.

“At least it’s a nice day for a walk.”

“That’s the spirit.”

They strode through the quaint Old Town neighborhood for nearly a mile, taking notice of a youth center, now covered in graffiti, and a small mom-and-pop bakery that still smelled of fresh bread.

“Smell that?” she asked, sniffing the air.

“Sure do.”

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance of finding a loaf of warm bread.”

“We might have to eat around the mold, but I’m game if you are.”

“I’ll think I’ll pass,” she said, continuing on.

A little further up they discovered a fire engine sitting sideways in the center of the road. It looked as if the driver had foolishly attempted a U-turn, only to get the huge truck hopelessly stuck in traffic. The windshield had been smashed in, but the rest of the rig looked to be in good shape.

Samantha climbed onto the front bumper and peered in through the broken windshield. Inside she could see a bright red steering wheel, a joystick, and a panel covered in yellow buttons.

“Do you think the siren still works?”

He shook his head. “Battery’s probably dead by now.”

She stepped down and walked around to the driver’s side, giving the door a tug. It didn’t budge.

“Locked.”

“We can break in if you want.”

“Nah, it’s not important.” She hopped back down. “Did you ever want to be a fireman?”

“Risking my life to rescue cats? No thanks.”

“So, what did you want to be? A football player? Maybe a lumberjack? No, no… I’ve got it. A professional wrestler!” She held her hand to her mouth like she was holding a microphone. “In this corner, we have Tanner the Tormenter, weighing in at a cool…” She paused. “… four thousand pounds.”

“Funny.”

She giggled. “All right, if not a professional wrestler, what then?”

“When I was little, I always wanted to be a policeman.”

Her giggle turned into a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

She patted his arm affectionately.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I’m most certainly not.”

“But you’re a criminal!”

“I went to prison because I punished people for committing a crime.”

“By
killing
them.”

“They had it coming,” he mumbled.

“Still, policemen aren’t supposed to do that kind of thing.”

“No? What are they supposed to do then?”

“Help people, of course.”

“I help people.”

She pursed her lips. “Really? Like when?”

“What about when I rescued those kids from the Amish farm?”

“Good point. That was really nice of you.”

“And what about that time I let those thieves go free after they stole our backpacks?”

“That one doesn’t count because you beat them up.”

“Hardly a beating.”

“Still, I’m not sure that being a policeman is the right fit for you.” She thought for a moment. “I’ve got it. How about a bounty hunter? You know, like that Dog fellow on TV.”

“A bounty hunter…” he said, rubbing his chin. “Do they get to beat people up?”

“I’m sure they do.”

“Do they have to wear a uniform?”

“Maybe just some chains and a leather jacket.”

“I could live with that.”

She nodded. “It’s perfect. You get to catch the bad guys but don’t actually have to be a good guy yourself.”

He smiled, certain that she had no idea that even her compliments were laced with insults.

“What about you? What did you want to be when you grew up?”

“If I tell you, you’ll laugh.”

“After what you just did to my dreams, you bet I will.”

She squinted, trying to decide whether or not to tell him.

“Come on. Out with it.”

“Fine,” she said with a sigh. “When my mom was president, she used to take me all over the world with her.”

“And?”

“And one time we went to meet the Queen of England.”

“Whoa, that must have been interesting.”

“Oh, it was,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “There were all kinds of fancy dresses, and castles, and guards who wore big funny hats.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Anyway, after we left, I thought that it might be nice to be a…” She hesitated. “You know, a princess.”

Contrary to his promise, Tanner didn’t laugh. Instead he said, “Princess Samantha does have a nice ring to it.”

She smiled. “If I’m the princess, what does that make you?”

He thought for a moment.

“I guess I’d be the Captain of the Guard.”

“Ooh, I like that,” she said, her eyes taking on a faraway look. “Princess Samantha and her Captain of the Guard, Tanner the Tormenter.”

He shook his head. “You’re hilarious.”

She giggled again. “I think you meant, ‘You’re hilarious, your Highness.’”

“Uh-huh, I’m sure that’s what I meant.”

The hike north on Washington Street started off quite picturesque, with bridal shops, boutiques, and artsy collectible stores lining the street. Unfortunately, the small-town feel quickly gave way to a business district, and after that, a lifeless industrial section. By the time the road had changed to the George Washington Memorial Parkway, the only buildings within sight were storage rentals, electrical substations, and graffiti-painted warehouses.

Despite the warm temperatures, Samantha offered no complaints, even after they had been walking for a full hour. As they pushed further north, a two-lane bike trail began to parallel the right side of the road. A sign identified it as the Mount Vernon Trail.

Tanner said, “What do you say we take the scenic route?”

She stopped and took a moment to weigh the dangers of the street versus the trail.

“Ah, come on,” he said, cutting across an open stretch of grass. “It nearly hugs the road, and we won’t have to worry about anyone hiding behind cars.”

“Maybe not,” she said, hurrying to catch up, “but people aren’t the only things out to kill us.”

Neither of them said any more about it. The world was dangerous. It was a simple truth that both had come to accept. There was no point in belaboring the fact.

True to Tanner’s promise, the trail did indeed parallel the parkway. Shaded with tall evergreens and surrounded by thick green grass, it was a welcome change from the hot, lifeless asphalt. After a short distance, they came to an inlet of water that opened up into the Potomac River. Hundreds of colorful sailboats sat moored in a sprawling marina. A few of them hadn’t been properly secured and either lay toppled over in the water or drifting aimlessly between the docks.

Samantha stared out at the boats.

“Why don’t we get one of those and cross the river like we did last time?”

“They’re sailboats.”

“So?”

“So, I don’t know how to sail. Do you?”

“I’m sure we could figure it out.”

“More likely we’d end up beached on a sandbar halfway across the river, with sharks circling the boat.”

“Sharks? In a river?”

“It could happen,” he said, not at all sure that he was right.

“Alligators, maybe.”

“Either way, a bridge is safer.”

She shrugged. “I guess.”

They walked along the water’s edge for another quarter-mile, eventually crossing a smaller waterway known as Four Mile Run. On the far side of the bridge, the road and trail both opened up into an enormous parking lot. Beyond it, lay a long metal hangar and the hub of an airport terminal, with several commercial aircraft parked out front.

Before either of them could decide one way or the other about the airport, a long string of gunfire sounded from the road ahead. The gunshots weren’t close enough to really worry about, but they were directly in their present path.

Samantha nodded toward the gunfire.

“What do you think that’s about?”

“Same as always—people trying to kill one another.”

“Yeah? And?”

“And I see no reason to get in the middle of anyone else’s disagreement.”

She looked around, letting her eyes slowly drift toward the airport. Tanner was already staring at the long stretch of asphalt crowded with jumbo jets and service vehicles. The airport had an apocalyptic air about it, a vivid reminder that even the most important infrastructures had been abandoned.

“We could cut across,” he offered, clearly testing the water.

“You don’t think anyone would mind?”

“I don’t see why they would.”

“Right. It’s not like we’re going to steal an airplane.” She looked at him with suspicion. “We’re not, right?”

“Darlin’, I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea how to fly an airplane.”

“Good.”

“Good that I don’t know how to fly an airplane?”

“No, good that you’re not going to try.”

They crossed a small service road, traversed the parking lot, and arrived at an eight-foot-high chain-link fence topped with razor wire.

“How do you want to go about this?” Samantha said, looking up at the fence like a climber might El Capitan.

“Easy. We go around.”

They turned left and followed the fence line until it ended at a guard station. Two lanes passed onto the airport’s tarmac, and the only things blocking entry were a couple of hefty-looking lift barriers and collapsible tire spikes. Guard booths stood at either side of the road, but both were locked up tight.

Tanner stepped over the tire spikes and walked onto the airport’s tarmac like he owned the place. Samantha was a little more apprehensive, taking a good look around to make sure that a TSA sniper wasn’t standing ready to shoot her for trespassing.

“Which airport is this?” she asked.

“Reagan National.”

“Named after the baseball team?”

He grinned. “Yeah, I think so.”

She nodded and started out across the vast stretch of blacktop that acted as both a helipad and an area for taxiing aircraft to turn around. To their immediate left, a hangar stretched on for more than a thousand feet. According to the signs, it hosted a flight school, equipment storage, fuel and emergency vehicles, and several large aircraft repair facilities. Two orange rescue helicopters sat in front of the hangar, their rotors sleeved and tied down to the skids.

The main tarmac consisted of a two-lane road running along its left edge, and several taxi lanes for incoming and outgoing airplanes. A large circular hub-and-spoke terminal lay about a quarter-mile directly ahead. Even at a distance, they could see three commercial aircraft docked at the gates, as well as fuel trucks and baggage carts parked around the planes. One of the smaller planes had overshot its jetway and plowed headfirst into the terminal. The adjacent gate area now lay in ruins, covered in broken glass and sticky, pink fire retardant.

“This place is even creepier than the city.”

Tanner didn’t disagree, but he said nothing for fear of really getting her started.