Flight Plan: Deconstruction Book Three (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller) Read online

  I smiled. “Let’s just get on the plane.”

  Suddenly, something snapped to the side of me and out of instinct I grabbed Grayson and ducked. One of the men boarding the plane shouted in agony and collapsed, falling over the side of the steps and landing on the ground. Blood oozed from his side as he lay motionless, the fall had knocked him unconscious.

  “They’ve breached!” Craig yelled, bursting through a building to our side.

  As he ran toward us, he spun around and fired a hail of bullets at the door he’d just come through. He paused and checked his weapon then a man dropped from behind the door with blood pouring from his head.

  “Secretary, they’re coming this way!”

  I grabbed Grayson’s hand and started for the stairs. “Toby come on!” I yelled.

  The groundcrew began to shut the fueling truck off and started to unplug the fuel lines. Whatever we had was what we had, it was time to go

  As soon as I stepped on the plane I felt lightheaded. I grabbed a seat and steadied myself as the vertigo passed. Toby was watching me skeptically, so I gave him a weak smile before moving on.

  “Last time I flew it didn’t go so well,” I told him.

  “I get it.”

  “Contact!” Craig shouted from outside.

  I turned around in time to see the pilot just make it onto the plane. He’d cleared the last step when the bullet hit him in the neck. His head snapped back as he lurched forward then collapsed into the aisle.

  CHAPTER 15

  FLEE INTO THE SKIES

  I pressed my hand against the pilot’s neck as the world around me exploded into bedlam. Toby dove on top of Grayson and was shielding him with his own body as people squeezed down the aisle in panic. Several case officers rushed off the plane to join in the raging gunfight that ensued outside. And I felt the life fade from a man whose name I didn’t even know.

  “MJ! MJ!” Toby screamed.

  I looked up from the lifeless pilot. My hands were stained with his blood, my arms covered in crimson like I was wearing sleeves. Swirling in the puddle of his life were our chances of survival, our ticket to the skies, and every bullet that crackled outside was another nail in the coffin.

  Toby was a few seats away, waving his arms at me, offering his body as a bullet proof vest. But I didn’t belong in the plane cowering behind a seat. I belonged outside with a gun in my hand.

  “Stay here,” I called out.

  I ran to the door and flew down the steps before Toby could even try and stop me. Craig and his men had moved to an adjacent building, trying to draw fire away from the plane. It was an intense gunfight, but at least they’d occupied the mob’s attention for the time being.

  There was a case officer lying dead at the base of the steps. He was a middle-aged man named Xavier. We’d worked together before and as I looked down at his slack face I wondered if his family had made it out.

  I thought about the list of dead officers that seemed to grow by the minute. I thought about my own team and all their families that would probably never get the answers they deserved. I wondered if any of them had even survived the plane crash or had they all died that day. I’d never thought to look for them, I only thought about living.

  Xavier’s service pistol had fallen a few feet from his hand. I picked it up, checked the magazine then knelt to search his body for any extras. It was a morbid exercise, but times like that weren’t for the faint hearted.

  His coat was drenched in sticky blood that had puddled underneath him. I moved it to the side and grabbed the two additional magazines that were tucked away on his belt loop. As I did his wallet fell out.

  Sighing, I picked it up and held it for a moment. I didn’t have the heart to look inside. It would only be filled with pictures and memories of a family he’d never see again. Maybe appointments that he’d never make or old movie tickets that would still be here long after he turned to dust. I couldn’t open it, so I slid it back into his pocket and folded his hands over his chest.

  “Sleep well X,” I whispered then brushed my fingers across his eyelids.

  I pushed the extra magazines into my pocket then headed toward the edge of the hangar. A few of the soldiers were advancing on the mob as Craig took another team out the side of the building to flank them. I rushed to join him as they were severely outmanned and outgunned.

  “Major,” I called in a voice that was swallowed by the explosions of gunfire.

  He didn’t seem to hear me. His team kept advancing down the side of the building like they were stalking a deer. Grunting, I sped up and chased after him.

  “MJ!” Garner’s voice blared angrily out of nowhere.

  He was clenching to the side of the building with a rifle in his hand. I’d never thought of him as an operator and now I knew why. He was as likely to kill himself as anyone shooting at us.

  I changed directions and rushed toward him as bullets skirted by and bounced off the ground. Clearing the gauntlet, I slammed into the wall beside him, barely shielding myself from the incoming fire.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he continued. “Get back on that damn plane and keep your head down.”

  “Sir, I can handle myself. You need all the guns you can get or that plane is never leaving. One bullet hits that and we’re all dead.”

  “And if you get killed then what?”

  “Then I won’t be here to bug you tomorrow.”

  Garner huffed. “That’s cute MJ, but we can’t run the launch protocol without you.”

  A chunk of the wall beside me exploded as a bullet tore through it. I fired two shots into the distance then shrank back behind cover.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked him as I caught my breath.

  “Jesus MJ…just don’t fucking die. No need to be a hero, you belong with your family.”

  I cut my eyes at him then started heading towards Craig, but paused and looked back. “By the way, the pilot’s dead,” I said grimly.

  Craig and his men had moved around the far building. They were at the wall, preparing to advance. I hurried to catch them, hoping they didn’t accidentally shoot me as I moved closer.

  “Craig,” I whispered once I was in earshot.

  He spun around with his gun ready. As he realized who I was his hardened face softened a bit and he lowered the barrel. With a nod of his head, he waved me forward and I joined him at the corner.

  There were at least thirty men advancing toward the hangar. They were taking cover as it came, behind pallets of supplies or shipping crates, or just laying prone. They had the numbers and the firepower, but they were pissed off and while some of them had military training, they were uncoordinated and sloppy.

  “We’re gonna have to do this quickly,” Craig said. “There’s at least a hundred more of these guys still trying to make it in the gate. We hit them hard then get back to the plane and get the hell out of here.”

  Everyone nodded in agreement as they double checked their weapons. I tightened the grip on my pistol then tapped Craig on the shoulder.

  “Thought you should know, the pilot died on the plane. One shot to the neck. You got a backup plan for getting the hell out of here?”

  “Fuck!” Craig snapped. He leaned his head back and clenched his jaw. “We’ll have to deal with that later. Let’s move.”

  We tore off around the building behind a storm of searing metal. It was almost too easy. The poor bastards never knew what hit them and most were dead before they heard the first gunshot.

  The few that survived the initial barrage darted for cover inside of a small warehouse. We gave chase, running after them as their friends lay dead of dying.

  I followed the team through a thin, gray door and cut to the left. With my head tucked low, I crept slowly toward the back warehouse, hiding behind a row of metal shelves.

  A few UV lights hung from the ceiling, but the place was dipped in shadows and strange scents. Mountains of supplies were aligned in long, rows that covered the warehouse f
rom wall to wall. Boxes caked in dust sat on the shelves, like lost memories that would never be claimed again. The entire room smelled like age, like old hands and couches adorned in faded, scratchy fabric.

  Something moved up ahead of me and I froze. I wasn’t sure what I’d saw. Maybe a rat, maybe my mind was morphing the shadows into dangerous things.

  Straining my ears, I waited in silence. My eyes slowly adjusted and I could barely make the outline of a sneaker, sticking out from behind a row of shelves as it ticked back and forth, slightly brushing up against the metal.

  Silently, I inched closer. I could hear nervous breathing and the sound of a gun rattling in someone’s terrified hands. Beneath the hushed, panting I could hear something else. Someone was whispering.

  “Just go away. Please just go away,” they repeated over and over.

  Their voice trembled when they spoke and crackled with fear. It was apparent, all these people weren’t soldiers and even the ones that were probably had noble intentions. I hadn’t thought about it before, but they were desperate. They just wanted to live, wanted their family to live. What would I have done in their shoes?

  I stepped around the corner with my gun ready, but found a young teenage boy huddled on the floor with his legs crossed, rocking back and forth. He was probably fifteen and the AK-47 propped between his legs painted a stark contrast to the innocence reflected in his face.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered as I lowered my gun. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.”

  He slowly looked up at me. Huffing, he wiped the tears from his eyes and swallowed. “I, I…I didn’t want to d…do it,” he stuttered.

  “What’s your name?” I asked.

  “Steven.”

  “Steven, my name is MJ. It’s not safe in here, you can come with me. Okay?”

  He nodded and I reached a hand out to help him up, but before our fingers touched something hard hit me in the back of the head. I stumbled and fell into the shelf beside me, then hit the floor. My gun slipped from my hand and slid across the cold, concrete.

  I was momentarily stunned, but the sensation of someone yanking me up by my hair had a sobering effect. I reached up and grabbed the hefty mitts that had tangled themselves onto my head. As I found my footing, I spun around like a Tasmanian devil.

  An ogre towered over me. His dark, narrow eyes glowered at me as he curled his lips into a snarl. His massive jaw was covered in a thick, red beard and an assault rifle hung from his shoulder.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but I shot my hand out and hit him in the throat with the ridge. He gagged and released me then staggered backward.

  Grunting, he reached out again and I snapped my foot into his knee then bashed him in the nose with my fist as he doubled over. Blood splattered onto my face and he fell back reaching for air. He wrapped his hand around the shelving frame on his way down and it crashed to the ground with him, spilling boxes, all over the floor and burying him in the clutter.

  “Come on Steven,” I turned around and gasped. “We have to go.”

  Steven mumbled something and I ignored him. Dropping to the floor, I reached under the shelf he was leaning against. My gun had slid to the back, wedged between the wall. I felt naked without it.

  “Steven,” I groaned as I reached out for it. “You’re gonna have to get up. We need to get moving.”

  I managed to hook my finger around the trigger guard, but I couldn’t get enough grip. I stretched my arm so more, until it felt like my shoulder was prying apart. “Come on,” I groaned.

  Suddenly, I felt a yank at my foot then someone pulled me away from the shelf. I rolled over as the massive man dragged me towards him. With my free foot, I kicked at him, but he was too tall to hit from the ground.

  Wiggling like a hooked fish, I flopped across the floor until he finally released me. I tried to jump up, but he swung his rifle like a bat and smacked me right in the side of the face. The blow sent me sailing to the ground like a gnat.

  I landed next to the shelf and in desperation, crammed my torso underneath. I swung my arm out and pushed off my toes. A jolt energy hit me as my fingers smacked against the gun and it dislodged from the corner.

  Wrapping my fingers around the cold metal, I scrambled to a sitting position and spun around. I was too late.

  The man had me in his sights. His rifle was pointed at my chest and his face was twisted in a demonic grin. He cocked his head to the side and nodded then pulled the trigger.

  There was an audible “click” and it took me a moment to realize what had happened. I was still alive and the idiot standing in front of me had just misfired.

  Grunting, he hurled his rifle at me like it was a damn javelin. I leveled my gun and squeezed the trigger at the same time.

  The bullet hit him in the shoulder and his gun flailed in my direction like an angry baton. It slammed into my face and I fell back, dropping my gun a second time.

  I could taste the warm metallic hint of blood as my mouth radiated in pain. But I ignored it and scrambled after the pistol. It slid across the floor coming to a stop at Steven’s feet a few yards away.

  I paused as he slowly knelt and picked it up. Holding the pistol like it was cursed, he swallowed and took a deep breath. His rifle was propped against the wall behind him and neither firearm was within my reach.

  Steven stared at the gun then to me then back to the gun, over and over. His hands shook with fear and dried tears cut rivers through the dirt on his face. He reminded me of my son, the innocence in his eyes, the uncertainty. He was nothing more than a boy that desperately needed his mother.

  “Steven…Steven just hand me that. Okay?” I said lowly.

  “Steven, you shoot that bitch,” the other man groaned as he pushed himself off the floor.

  “I don’t wanna do this anymore Ted,” Steven said with a break in his voice.

  “Just, just give me the gun Steven,” I said and reached my hand out.

  I could hear Ted behind me, shuffling toward me, huffing in pain. I had seconds, maybe less to get the gun from Steven. I didn’t want to hurt the boy, but I wasn’t gonna die in that warehouse.

  “Steven, give me the gun!” I raised my voice.

  “Shoot her!” Ted roared. “Shoot her now! You wanna die in this fucking city? You wanna die like your mom did, like your dad did? You shoot this bitch Steven and let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Steven twitched with every punctuated word Ted shouted. He was likely to shoot me on accident as his hands quivered with fear and indecision. A child was not going to decide my fate.

  I pushed up from my knees and lunged at Steven. Stretching my fingers, I reached for the gun, but an explosion erupted in my ears and I ducked my head. Blood drenched my face like someone had thrown a bucket of it and Steven’s body fell to the floor in front of me.

  “No!” Ted shrieked as his words were swallowed by several more gunshots.

  I turned around as his lifeless body fell into the shelves then hit the ground. His face was still twisted in an angry snarl and his eyes were wide with shock. Ragged holes in his chest and neck pumped that last bit of his life onto the filthy floor.

  “MJ,” Craig called out. “MJ, you okay?”

  I looked back at Steven, blinking as his blood ran down my forehead and onto my eyelids. The bullet had torn through his head, leaving his face unrecognizable. His empty shell lay crumpled on the ground like trash, like a broken mannequin.

  “MJ…you okay?” Craig called again.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m good,” I mumbled.

  I straightened up and wiped the blood from my eyes. With a deep breath, I walked over to Steven and pulled the pistol from his lifeless hands. “He was just a kid,” I said to myself in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “Close call,” Craig grumbled. “Come on, we’ve gotta get out of here.”

  He grabbed my arm and started to pull me toward the door. I paused and looked back at Steven one last time. He shouldn’t have died there. None of
them should’ve died there.

  Sighing, I followed Craig out of the warehouse. It was quiet now, at least the racket of constant gunfire had ceased. Dead bodies lay everywhere and Craig’s team was already heading back to the hangar.

  “We’ve gotta be quick,” Craig said to me. “They’ve almost breached the gate.”

  “I thought they already did,” I replied and looked around.

  “No…these guys made it through an auxiliary gate at the back. Main gate was still up, but we’re pulling all of our guys and getting the hell out of here.”

  I nodded my understanding and sped up. We quickly made our way back to the hangar where they’d already started re-fueling. People were hurrying around like nothing ever happened.

  “Oh my God!” he shouted as he rushed toward me and grabbed me by the shoulders. He brushed his hands across my face and swept the hair from my eyes. “Are you okay? Where are you hurt?”

  I didn’t answer. I locked eyes with Grayson as he slowly walked over. Something welled up inside of me and my eyes started to tear. I collapsed into Toby’s arms and buried my head into his chest.

  “It’s okay. It’s okay,” he repeated over and over.

  I took a few deep breaths and wiped my face. Picking my head up, I whispered into his ear. “I love you.” Then I kissed his cheek.

  “What were you thinking?” he asked.

  “I was keeping you guys safe. Keeping all of us safe. It’s my job.”

  “But MJ look at you. I can’t…I won’t raise Grayson alone.”

  “It’s not my blood Toby. There, there were kids out there, hardly older than Grayson.”

  Toby gasped, but didn’t say anything else. Grayson wrapped his arms around my waist and squeezed.

  “You okay mom?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  “MJ!” Garner’s voice blared. “Can I have a moment?”

  I looked across the tarmac and found him standing near the ramp to the plane. His lips were crooked to the side and his eyes were squinted, hiding a fury that I could almost feel.