I grip the wall, worried. How many more of those choppers are out there?
The firing continues until the chopper pulls back, veering off course and disappearing into the sky until it’s nothing but a black speck in the distance. I release a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and look back at Elle. Her expression is still closed, but her grip on Bravo’s harness is vise-like.
“We’re okay,” I tell her. “We’ve got more firepower than one chopper does.”
Elle says nothing. She steps back from the window. I turn around and look at Chris. He shakes his head.
I know what he is thinking.
There is no such thing as safe. Not anymore.
We reach San Jose. It’s similar to the train station in Sacramento. The station is tall, made of brick, and fronted with outdoor passenger platforms. When the train slows down, screeching and rumbling to a stop in a cloud of steam, everyone gets ready. My security detail gathers around me. A human shield. Guns up and ready to go. I feel trapped inside the wall. I would rather be on the outside, protecting someone else.
We move through the open doors and step onto the loading platform. The air is crisp and clean. A line of Humvees and retrofitted armored vehicles are waiting, rumbling. I am brought to an armored Suburban in the center of the lineup. The door opens, I climb in, and Uriah and Chris follow. The rest of the security detail spreads out among the cars. I see Elle.
“You,” I say. “Come with me.”
She nods. “Yes, ma’am.”
Sophia and Vera are in another vehicle.
The Suburban is air-conditioned. It smells of worn leather, sweat and gunpowder. The driver is a National Guardsman wearing dark glasses. Chris sits up front, next to him. Uriah is in the seat beside me. I am sitting in the car in uniform, armored up, gun in my lap. A Senator I may be, but I am still a Commander, and this is still a battlefield.
I look at Elle. She is quiet and observational as she sits next to her dog. The door slams shut. I ghost a small smile in her direction.
“You doing okay, Elle?” I ask.
“Yes, Senator,” she says.
“Call me Commander,” I reply.
“Yes, Commander.” Elle’s lips curve upward and she looks out the window.
The convoy rolls out.
As we pull out of the parking lot, onto the battle-scarred road, I am overcome with a profound sense of premonition. I try to shake the negative vibe, but it lingers as we hit Highway 101, southbound toward Monterey.
I want to talk to Chris about it, but now is not the time. I am on my own with this one.
The convoy keeps rolling, maintaining a steady travel time.
“Trouble ahead, Commander,” the driver says.
I take my gaze from the side window and direct it through the windshield. We are not in the front of the convoy, so I can’t see what is right in front of us. I crane my neck to see ahead of us, and I glimpse movement down the highway.
Great.
The radio crackles with activity.
“We’ve got possible rogue elements on the road ahead,” comes the report. It’s Vera. “We’re driving through, no stopping.”
Our driver tightens his grip on the wheel. Uriah releases the bolt on his rifle and tucks the stock into his shoulder. I hold my weapon, too, nervous tension tightening my muscles, sharpening my instincts.
“Omega?” Chris says into the radio.
“No. Rogue militia, maybe. Can’t tell. There’s only two people.”
“Two people?” Chris slams the radio speaker down. “Don’t stop,” he tells the driver. “No matter what. Keep going.”
We come to a small hill. The freeway curves over the knoll, giving me just enough of a view of the road before us so I can glimpse the enemy in our path. There are two pickup trucks. There is one on each side of the freeway. Two men wearing dark clothing and strips of black cloth wrapped around their heads are standing just in sight to the side of the freeway.
“Oh, my god,” I say. “It’s an ambush.”
Chris grabs the radio. “Get us out of here fast,” he says.
The convoy suddenly lurches forward. Usually a convoy moves along at pretty slow speeds — about fifteen to twenty miles per hour — but we are now speeding along, scenery flashing by the window. I brace myself.
There are six vehicles ahead of us in the lineup. I have been cleverly hidden in a dark suburban that looks like three other transports in this convoy. The first two vehicles to pass between the two pickup trucks explode.
“They’ve got triggers in the road!” Elle screams. “Stop the car!!”
The Humvee in front erupts, a fiery mass hurtling down the road. Our driver veers out of the lineup, throwing us all into the door of the Suburban, slamming on the brakes. The vehicle nearly tips sideways as he spins us into a U-turn. Another vehicle is hit.
“They’ve booby-trapped the road!” Elle yells. “Back up, back up!”
We’re trying. Most of the convoy has spun around, putting distance between the detonations and us. But honestly… there could be explosives hidden anywhere in the road, right?
We back away. Our driver spins the wheels on the Suburban, leaving black marks on the cement. My heart races as I grasp the door handle to keep from being flung to the other side of the vehicle. Elle looks at me, then at Chris.
“We’ve got to go around,” she says.
“The entire highway should have been secure,” Chris replies. “We had people check.” He looks at me. “We can’t deviate from our route. It will take too long, and there are too many risks.”
I lock gazes with Chris.
“We’ve got to push through,” I say. “We don’t have a choice.”
I look out the window. I can see Manny’s biplane flying watch over the convoy. “Get Manny on the radio,” I say. “He’s got a better visual on what’s going on down here than we do.”
Elle snaps her eyes up.
“Do you want me to check the road with Bravo?” she says. “That’s what we do. We can find the bomb triggers for you.”
I shake my head.
“Not yet. Let’s see what we’re dealing with first.”
Chris grabs the radio and contacts Manny. The connection is rife with static and the background noise of the wind whipping around the biplane.
“Manny, give me a visual,” Chris commands.
“You’ve got about a dozen unfriendly rogues on the east side of the freeway,” Manny replies, his voice crackling. “I don’t see any more than that. You’ve got more than enough manpower to take them out, but it’s the road I’m worried about. There could be more bombs.”
“We’ve already lost two vehicles,” I mutter.
Uriah shakes his head. “We can’t stop. They’ll fire on us. We have to take them out, then let Elle check the road with Bravo.”
“We’re not doing that,” I state. “We can’t stop for anything. That’s what they want us to do. They’re trying to take us all out at the same time.” I grab the radio and open my map. “We can take this side road through the coastal foothills and connect with the highway later on. It will take longer, but it will be away from the main drag. We can avoid this mess.”
“Manny,” I continue. “I’ve got a map in my hands and I see a way out of this. We’re going to backtrack to Dinosaur Point Road and take it through the hills. We can hook back up with the highway. I want you to fly ahead and keep us posted on what you see. If you see anything — even the wind blow through the trees — I want to know about it.”
“You got it, Commander,” Manny replies. “Hang tight and let me lead the way.”
I spin the map around and place my finger on a little road that winds through the hills, joining back up later with Highway 156 and Highway 101 — both viable routes into Monterey.