The Bugging Out Series 2: Eagle One by Noah Mann

Author:Noah Mann [Mann, Noah]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Dystopian, urban fantsy, survivalist, teotwawki, shtf, post apocalypse
Publisher: Schmuck & Underwood
Published: 2014-10-11T04:00:00+00:00

Twenty Four

The aircraft rolled to a stop halfway down the runway, blinding lights coming on, vehicles speeding toward us from every direction. Six vehicles, I counted. They slowed and stopped, surrounding us.

“I’m guessing we’ve got some guns pointed at us,” I said.

Neil killed the engine and shut the aircraft’s systems down. We slipped our headsets off.

“What’s our play here?” he asked.

“I think that depends on theirs,” I answered.

“EXIT WITH YOUR HANDS EMPTY!”

The command came over a loudspeaker, penetrating the aircraft cabin with ease.

“Not much of a choice,” I said, then looked back to Krista. “Hey, we’re going to be fine. They probably want to make sure we’re good people.”

“We are good people,” Krista said.

“That’s right,” I told her. “And they’ll see that.”

“EXIT NOW!”

I couldn’t be certain, but the voice on the loudspeaker seemed to be the same one that had communicated with us over the radio as we approached the airport. The directness I’d sensed then was now dialed up to something approaching a demand.

“Let’s go,” I said.

Neil opened his door first, pistol still on his hip. I followed out my side of the aircraft, helping Grace and Krista out and onto the solid runway, a damp chill washing over us.

“KEEP YOUR HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM! DO NOT MOVE!”

I put my hands to my front, as did Neil and Grace. Past the blinding headlights, diffused to wide spots of harsh white through the shifting fog, silhouettes appeared. People approaching us. One man and one woman.

The woman, her hair dark and short, moved right at me, a stubby MP5 sub machinegun tucked close to her side, business end pointed at my gut, one hand wielding it while the other took the Springfield from my holster and set it on the wing.

“Anything else on you?”

“Knife in my right cargo pocket,” I told her.

She fished it out and placed it next to the pistol before looking to Grace.

“Anything on you?”

“I left my weapons in the plane,” Grace told her.

The woman shifted her gaze to Krista, the little girl latched onto her mother’s leg. She stared at the child for a moment. A long moment that unnerved Grace.

“She doesn’t have anything,” Grace said.

The woman looked up from the little girl, meeting Grace’s protective gaze.

“Jackets off,” Elaine said. “Down to your shirts. Everybody.”

We followed the instruction, dropping our coats where we stood. All but Krista.

“It’s cold,” Grace said to Elaine.

“What about the kid’s coat?!” Elaine asked loudly, half looking over her shoulder.

“Everyone!”

The voice answered from near the vehicles. That same voice, no longer on the loudspeaker. Clearly someone with command in their blood. And little compassion in their heart.

Elaine looked to Grace, but didn’t have to say anything.

“Let’s slip this off for right now,” Grace said, and Krista did as told, hugging herself, the chill already taking a bite.

“Elaine?!”

“They’re clear!” Elaine reported, and took a few steps back away from us, keeping her weapon directed at me.

On the other side of the airplane, where I was certain Neil had undergone the same disarming procedure that we just had, I heard a man affirm that the pilot had been cleared of weapons.

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