Louis Collins: A Post-American Odyssey

Chapter 142

The Black Hawk stayed low in the hollows beyond Beckley. Louis kept one hand on the empty minigun and braced the other against the door frame. Its barrels were still smoking beside the open door.

“Engine one holding,” Willa said. “Engine two holding. Hydraulic pressure still dropping.”

“Slowly?” Maeve asked.

“Slowly.”

“Good.”

Gladice gave a short, breathless laugh from farther inside the cabin.

“I liked West Virginia better when it only had tolls and communists,” she said.

Across the cabin, Savannah leaned back against the webbing, keeping her bandaged wrist close. Soot streaked her face, and dried blood marked her hands. “You crazy.”

“About time you noticed,” Gladice said.

Angelique sat beside Cherish and Donya with one arm around Cherish’s shoulders. “We haven’t left yet.”

“True,” Gladice said. “But I’m enjoying the view.”

Cherish was still pale, but her breathing had steadied. She looked from Angelique to Louis, then through the open side at the mountains below.

“Are they still following?” she asked.

Louis shook his head. “No one is following.”

“Are you sure?”

He leaned forward and looked out. The ridges had hidden Beckley’s searchlights, and he saw no aircraft behind them. “I’m sure.”

Cherish nodded and pressed her cheek against Donya’s shoulder. Donya closed her eyes and whispered something too soft for him to make out, though it sounded like a prayer.

“Where are we going?” Angelique asked.

“North,” Maeve called from the cockpit. “Into Ohio.”

“And then?”

“Then we land and steal a truck or something that still drives,” Maeve said. “Unless any of you have a better idea.”

“We need to find a phone to contact my father once we land,” Louis said. “He can send help.”

Maeve laughed. “The leader of the Dominion? Yes, good plan. He will send a private jet to pick us up, I am sure.”

“I’m serious. It’s not that hard to make a call in the Great Lakes Alliance.”

Maeve did not look at him. “You really believe your father can save us?”

“He can.”

“Then I hope you are right. Because we will need it.”

“You should come with us,” Louis said. “After what happened, they will kill you if you go back.”

“I know,” Maeve said. “I will think about it.”

“How did you know how to fly this thing?” Gladice asked.

“Mechanic’s cross-training.” Maeve’s voice was flat. “You learn enough to get the parts working, you learn enough to get them off the ground.”

“You learned it all yourself?” Willa asked.

“I had a good teacher.” Maeve paused. “He died in the Authority raids.”

“I’m sorry,” Angelique said.

“Sorry doesn’t bring people back,” Maeve said. “Now, let me fly.”

Donya said, “I will pray for him.”

Maeve glanced back toward the cabin. “I would rather you pray for this helicopter.”

“Yes,” Donya said. “Allah protected us from the missile. He will protect us now.”

“Your Allah is not in this aircraft,” Maeve said.

“He is everywhere,” Donya said.

“Then tell him to keep the engine running.”

Cherish leaned toward Donya and whispered something. Donya nodded, then began to pray softly. Her voice was low, and Louis could not hear the words. Cherish closed her eyes and rested her head on Donya’s shoulder.

Savannah watched them for a moment, then turned to Louis. “You think we gonna make it across the river?”

“I think we have to,” he said.

“That ain’t an answer.”

“No, it’s not.” He looked ahead. “But yes. We will.”

“I’m holding you to that, cowboy.” Savannah leaned forward. “Hey, Glads! You ever been in a helicopter before this?”

“Of course,” Gladice said. “But we don’t fly old army crates in the Collective. We have better toys.”

“Show-off.”

“Just stating facts.”

“I wish we had a better toy now,” Willa said from the cockpit. “The fuel gauge is at one-third.”

Maeve swore. “How long can we stay up?”

“At this altitude and power setting? About another hour.”

“Alright,” Maeve said. “One hour is enough.”

The Black Hawk crossed another ridgeline. Louis saw some scattered lights in a valley below. The helicopter kept moving north.

“How do these people survive?” Angelique asked, looking down at the lights.

“Barely,” Maeve said. “The Authority controls the main roads and the toll stations. We control the mountains. The valleys are caught in between.”

“What about the towns? Like the one we saw.”

“Some pay tribute to the Authority,” Maeve said. “Some to us. Some try to stay neutral. It doesn’t usually end well.”

Cherish looked down at the lights, her face drawn. “It’s so sad.”

“It’s war,” Gladice said. “People die. Or they pay. Those are the choices.”

“Not always,” Donya said. “There is always a third path.”

“And what’s that, Donya?” Gladice asked.

“Love,” Donya said. “Like us. We are all from different places, with different beliefs. But we saved each other. Because we care.”

Gladice looked at her, then at Louis. “Those people are not us.”

“But they could be,” Donya said. “If someone helped them.”

“I don’t care about them,” Gladice said. “I care about us.”

“Then let’s focus on us,” Angelique said. “Getting out. Staying alive.”

“That’s the plan,” Gladice said.

The last valley lights disappeared behind a ridge. Once they were gone, Louis could make out little below. The engines still sounded steady. Willa called out the readings every few minutes.

Half an hour later, Louis saw a broad river ahead when moonlight broke through the clouds. The Black Hawk approached it at an angle.

“That should be the Ohio River,” Willa said. “Once we cross it, we’re in the Alliance.”

“Yes,” Maeve said. “Ohio’s on the other side.”

The Black Hawk crossed the river. Willa stopped calling the readings.

“What now?” Maeve asked.

Willa hesitated. “Fuel.”

“What about it?”

“The quantity’s dropping too fast.”

“Could be the gauge.”

“It’s not just the gauge. The left tank’s falling faster than the right, and the No. 1 fuel-pressure warning keeps coming on.”

Maeve swore under her breath. Louis pulled himself toward the cockpit by the overhead strap.

“Are we leaking fuel?”

“I think so,” Willa said.

Louis breathed in and caught the sharp smell of fuel.

“That’s not good,” Gladice said.

“No,” Maeve said. “It isn’t.”

“Can we keep flying?” Angelique asked.

“Long enough to find somewhere to put down. No farther.”

“Where?” Louis asked.

“That’s what I’m looking for. Everyone strapped in. Now.”

They obeyed. Louis returned to the seat nearest the open door and strapped in. Across the cabin, Savannah did the same. Gladice and Angelique secured Cherish’s harness while Donya tightened her own strap and kept hold of Cherish’s arm.

Cherish looked at Angelique. “Are we crashing?”

“No,” Angelique said. “We are landing hard.”

The Black Hawk descended. Through the open door, Louis watched the ground draw closer. Willa began calling out the readings.

“Eight hundred feet. Seven-fifty. Fuel quantity still dropping. Hydraulic pressure low. Controls still responding.”

“Find me something flat,” Maeve said.

“Open ground at ten o’clock,” Willa said. “Looks like a mine or quarry.”

The Black Hawk banked left. The cabin frame creaked as they turned.

“There’s a flat pad near the edge.”

“I see it,” Maeve said.

The Black Hawk descended toward it. Through the open door, Louis saw the open pit below. Black water covered part of the bottom. Broken conveyor frames and rusting trucks lined one edge.

“Hold tight,” Maeve said.

The Black Hawk came in hard over the concrete pad. Rotor wash lifted dust and sent loose sheet metal skidding across the ground. The landing light showed broken concrete and deep tire ruts.

“Too fast,” Willa said.

“I know.”

“Maeve—”

“I know.”

The helicopter flared just above the pad. Then the wheels hit. The impact slammed Louis against his harness. Cherish cried out. Donya held onto her. Louis’s teeth snapped together. The Black Hawk bounced, tipped left, and came down again. The left main wheel sank into a patch of soft gray ash and mud. Maeve swore from the cockpit. The tail swung, and the right main wheel skidded across the broken concrete. Metal scraped beneath the cabin. Then they stopped.

The rotors kept beating overhead, blowing dust past the open door.

“Shutting down,” Maeve said.

The engine noise began to fall. The rotor beat slowed until Louis could hear each blade pass overhead. When the blades finally stopped, he heard metal ticking as it cooled and fuel dripping beneath the aircraft.

“Is anyone hurt?” Louis asked.

“I’m fine,” Gladice said.

Savannah nodded. Angelique checked Cherish, who quickly shook her head. Donya nodded too.

“Can you stand?” Willa asked.

Maeve unbuckled and stood with one hand against her ribs.

“I’m fine,” she said. “Take everything useful before we leave.”

Louis went to the rear storage compartment and found two survival packs. They held MREs, water-purification tablets, and a folded regional map. He kept one and passed the other to Angelique.

In a marked emergency locker, Willa found a compass and a radiation survey meter. She switched on the meter. It chirped, and the reading settled at twenty microsieverts per hour.

“Twenty microsieverts an hour,” she said. “Elevated. We shouldn’t stay long.”

“The ash is contaminated,” Maeve said. “Don’t kick it up. We need to move.”

Donya found a sealed trauma kit in another compartment and packed it into one of the bags. Savannah found three loaded M16 magazines in a floor compartment. She passed them to Gladice, who divided them between the rifle carriers. Angelique found a partly opened, shrink-wrapped case of bottled water strapped beneath the rear bench. Several bottles were already missing. She tore the plastic wider and passed the remaining bottles around, giving the first two to Cherish and Donya. Cherish drank hers in long swallows.

“Can I have a rifle?” Cherish asked after she had finished drinking.

Gladice paused with a bottle in her hand. “Do you know how to use one?”

“Papa taught me.” Cherish looked at her. “We practiced at cans.”

“Good enough.” Gladice passed one of the M16s to her. “The safety’s here. The magazine release is here. Don’t point it at any of us unless you mean to shoot them.”

Cherish nodded once. She took the rifle and held it with both hands. “Okay.”

“How many guns do we have?” Willa asked.

“Four M16s. Three M9s. And Louis’s Colt.” Gladice pointed. “Plus this.” She tapped the empty minigun. “Useless now.”

“We are lucky to have any,” Angelique said. She shouldered her pack. “Let’s go. Keep your eyes open.”

They climbed out onto the concrete pad. Maeve aimed the flashlight toward the access road, and Louis saw a sign beside it.

GREAT LAKES ALLIANCE

SOUTHERN OHIO EXCLUSION ADMINISTRATIVE ZONE

ENTRY PROHIBITED WITHOUT RESPIRATORY PROTECTION AND RADIOLOGICAL CLEARANCE

Gladice read the words and laughed. “What a welcome.”

Then Cherish pointed. At first Louis thought she was pointing at the sign. Then he saw the tree beyond it. Strips of cloth and small bones had been wired to one of the lower branches. Fresh footprints crossed the gray ash beneath the tree.

Savannah raised her M16. Gladice did the same.

“Stay together,” Maeve said.

They left the Black Hawk and moved toward the access road, with the fresh footprints ahead of them.