Louis Collins: A Post-American Odyssey

The first mortar round landed as the convoy reached the airfield. The blast came through the hull as a low thump, and for a moment Louis thought something had struck the vehicle. The driver swore. The convoy did not stop.

A second round struck closer. Orange light flashed above the revetments and disappeared.

“Stay in the vehicle,” the vehicle commander said without turning. “Whatever happens next, stay in the vehicle until told otherwise.”

The lead armored vehicle turned off the service road toward the tarmac and braked hard. Soldiers ran across the approach. Two headed toward the runway. Another knelt behind a stack of concrete barriers and called coordinates into his radio. Through the windshield, Louis saw a transport aircraft on the tarmac with its rear ramp down and its interior lights on. He thought for one absurd second that they might still make it.

Then gunfire broke out on the far side of the runway. The commander gave an order over the radio. Their driver moved the vehicle behind a concrete blast wall and stopped. The engine stayed running. Another armored vehicle accelerated past them on the right. Its gunner fired short bursts toward the far side of the runway. A siren began farther down the runway, cut off after several seconds, and did not resume.

“Airborne?” Gladice asked.

“No idea,” Louis said.

Another round landed closer, and the vehicle rocked. Jennifer flinched so hard that her shoulder struck Angelique’s.

“It’s alright.” Angelique patted her shoulder.

A squad of Florida soldiers sprinted across the far side of the tarmac and took cover behind stacked cargo containers. Another transport aircraft accelerated down the runway under fire but failed to lift. It ran off the end of the strip and stopped in the dirt with its landing gear collapsed.

The commander in front turned toward them. His face was slick with sweat in the red instrument light.

“Plan changed,” he said. “Airfield is unstable. We hold here until command gives us either wheels up or fallback. Stay in the vehicle.”

“Hold here?” Gladice said. “In the middle of an airport being shelled?”

The commander did not answer her. He turned back to the radio. Another armored vehicle passed them toward the runway, followed by a second. The gunner above them opened fire with the M2 toward the far side of the runway. The first burst shook the roof. Pain struck both of Louis’s ears, followed by a high ringing that covered most of the gunfire outside. Jennifer cried out and bent forward, pressing both hands against the sides of her helmet.

Louis could see only Florida soldiers and vehicles. The enemy fire came from beyond the hangars. A round struck their transport aircraft beneath one wing. Fuel ignited in a white flash. Flames spread along the fuselage. Jennifer made a choked sound. Angelique reached across and put a hand on her shoulder. They stared at the burning aircraft. The thing had been hope, and now it was being burned on the runway.

Gladice leaned forward. “We’re leaving.”

The driver said, “We are under orders—”

“Your orders are about to be irrelevant,” Gladice snapped. “Move!”

Louis leaned forward against his restraints. “She’s right.”

“We don’t move without command approval,” the commander said.

“Then get it,” Angelique said. “Fast.”

The vehicle commander keyed his radio. He got static, then a shouted fragment and more static. Then several rounds struck the left side of the vehicle in quick succession. The impacts rang through the compartment.

The vehicle commander swore.

“Get us out of here,” Louis said. “Now!”

The driver turned the armored vehicle hard left and accelerated away from the blast wall toward the northern hangars. The red cabin light went out. Through the armored window, Louis saw vehicles crossing the tarmac and soldiers running between the hangars. Explosions lit the airfield behind them.

“Where are you going?” Gladice shouted.

“Secondary extraction point,” the driver called back.

“RPG—” the vehicle commander shouted.

The RPG struck high on the left front of the vehicle before he finished. The blast punched into the front compartment. Gray dust and smoke filled the cabin, and blood sprayed across the instrument panel and the inside of the windshield. The driver collapsed over the wheel. The gunner dropped into the turret well and did not move. The vehicle commander was thrown against his harness. The nose snapped right, and the armored vehicle veered off the service lane.

Jennifer screamed. Angelique grabbed the strap beside her. Louis was thrown against his restraints, and pain shot through his injured knee. The vehicle struck the base of a revetment and stopped at an angle against the packed earth and concrete barriers.

The vehicle commander forced open his door and climbed out, shouting, “Out! Out now!”

Gladice released her harness, pulled the weapon case free of its brackets behind her seat, and opened it on the floor. Three BOAR-29 rifles lay inside. She handed one to Angelique and another to Louis, then kept the third. Louis slung the rifle across his chest and grabbed the cane.

Gladice opened the rear armored door and climbed out. Angelique followed with Jennifer close behind. Louis came last. Outside, burning aircraft and runway flares lit the smoke over the airfield. Muzzle flashes came from beyond the hangars. They climbed out into the service lane beside the revetment. A burst struck the side of the armored vehicle. They dropped behind its rear hull. The vehicle commander was still beside the front wheel when another burst hit him. He fell and did not get up.

“Move!” Gladice shouted.

Gladice led them behind an overturned baggage tractor, then across to a sandbagged maintenance hut. From there they reached a low concrete wall beside the fuel point. Near a stack of metal containers, Angelique caught the back of Louis’s vest and pulled him down. A burst came from the right and struck the metal containers ahead, throwing sparks across the service lane. Gladice ran left toward the revetment. Angelique caught Jennifer by the arm and pulled her left.

Louis followed, but the tip of his cane caught between two broken slabs of tarmac. He tore it free and tried to follow. His injured knee gave way, and he fell behind a low concrete barrier beside the service lane. He pushed himself onto one knee. The others were about thirty yards away behind several baggage carts. Open tarmac lay between them, and fire was coming from more than one direction. Angelique had Jennifer down behind the carts. Gladice crouched just beyond them with her rifle raised. She looked back and saw Louis.

Figures moved between the crates. A muzzle flash came from the same direction, and rounds struck the tarmac near Louis. He still could not see their uniforms. He raised the rifle and fired toward the flash. The stock struck his shoulder again and again. The rifle’s report was deafening behind the concrete barrier. After the first burst, his ears rang beneath the shots. Fire came back from the same position. A tracer struck the top edge of the barrier and threw sparks past his helmet. Louis kept the rifle pointed at the last muzzle flash and held the trigger down until it stopped firing. He sat down on the ground. Rounds broke apart the top of the barrier above him. Concrete chips rained over his helmet and down his neck, and he batted at them with one hand. He dropped the rifle and pulled out his M1911.

A four-door pickup came out of the smoke behind Gladice. For an instant, Louis thought it would run them down. Gladice and Angelique turned and fired at the windshield. The glass broke inward. The driver folded over the wheel, and the pickup veered into a low earth berm and stopped. Gladice ran to the driver’s side, pulled the door open, and dragged the driver onto the ground by his jacket. She shot him once in the head, then climbed behind the wheel. Angelique opened the passenger doors and pulled the other bodies out. She pushed Jennifer onto the back seat and climbed into the front passenger seat.

The engine turned over and caught. Gladice backed away from the berm and swung the pickup toward Louis.

“No!” Louis shouted.

The pickup came through the smoke with the right rear door still open. One wheel bounced over broken pavement. Gladice braked just beyond the end of the concrete barrier. The rear of the truck swung toward Louis and stopped with the open door a few feet from him. Dirt sprayed over the broken concrete. Exhaust stung his throat.

Angelique twisted around in the front passenger seat. Jennifer had already moved across the rear seat and was reaching through the open door.

“Louis!”

Louis shoved the M1911 into his waistband, forced himself upright, and threw the cane through the open rear door. As he stepped toward the truck, his boot caught on a strip of torn metal, and he fell hard beside it. Jennifer jumped out before he could get up. She caught the back of his vest with both hands and pulled. Louis pushed against the ground with his left leg, but his injured knee would not hold him. Jennifer planted her boots, dragged him upright, and drove forward with her shoulder against his back. He struck the door frame, then fell across the rear seat as she shoved with everything she had.

Louis twisted around and reached for her. Jennifer caught his hand and stepped toward the open door. A shot cracked behind her. Her body jerked. Blood burst from high on her chest, just above the top edge of her vest. Angelique screamed. Jennifer’s fingers tightened around his for an instant, then opened. The pickup accelerated. Louis reached after her, expecting her hand to close around his again. Jennifer fell away from the door as the truck carried him into the smoke.

Gladice floored the accelerator. The truck accelerated hard. The rear door swung inward, struck the frame, and bounced open again.

“Close it!” Gladice shouted.

“Jenny’s not in!” Louis shouted back. “Stop the truck!”

“Shut the door!”

He pushed himself up from the floor and dragged himself toward the open door. The truck bounced over the churned service road, throwing him against the bench. He caught the door frame with both hands and looked back. Smoke covered the road behind them. Soldiers ran between the revetments, and another vehicle burned beside the service lane. He searched the ground where Jennifer had fallen, but the truck was already carrying him away.

“Turn back! Turn back!” Angelique screamed.

Gladice did not look at her. “No.”

Angelique’s voice broke. “We can’t leave her!”

“No.” Gladice tightened her grip on the wheel. Her voice trembled. “No.”

Gladice swung the truck between two concrete barriers. The open rear door struck a barrier and tore free from its hinges. The truck went through a gap already torn in the perimeter fence. A dirt service road continued into the pines beyond it. Gladice turned onto it without slowing.

The truck followed the dirt track deeper into the pines. Its headlights showed only the road immediately ahead and the trunks on either side. For the first minute, none of them knew where the track led. The track narrowed around old drainage cuts, divided twice, and changed from packed dirt to gravel and back again. At every split, Gladice chose the darker track and turned away from lights and engine noise. Orange fire from the airport flashed between the trees behind them. The road dipped, and the thicker trees blocked the fire from view.

The track widened ahead. Through the trees, Louis saw the front of a tank coming toward them, its tracks grinding over the dirt. A second tank moved beyond it to the left, visible only in sections between the trunks. Gladice yanked the wheel hard right. The pickup skidded off the track. Louis grabbed the edge of the bench as the right side dropped toward the ditch. A white searchlight swept across the cab and struck him through the missing rear door.

“Go! Go!” Louis shouted.

Gladice hit the gas. The pickup climbed out of the soft ground and drove between the pines. Saplings bent under the front bumper. Branches struck the roof and scraped along the sides.

The first tank fired behind them. Louis saw the flash before the blast reached him. The shell struck the track they had just left and threw dirt and broken branches through the open rear doorway. The second tank fired before he could look back. Its round hit somewhere to their left, and part of a tree came down behind the pickup. Machine-gun fire followed. Rounds cut through the branches around them. Several struck the rear of the truck, punching through the tailgate and the left side of the bed. Louis dropped below the window line and covered his head with one arm. Another dirt track crossed in front of them. Gladice turned onto it without slowing, then took two more turns as the gunfire faded behind the trees.

Every streetlight along the road went out at once. Gladice kept the pickup moving. She used the remaining headlight only when she needed it, switching it on long enough to see a ditch or a damaged section of road before turning it off again. An APC crossed the road ahead and disappeared into the trees without slowing. Gladice waited for it to pass, then continued. Then a helicopter came over the tree line. A missile rose from somewhere beyond the road and struck it beneath the fuselage. The helicopter rolled onto its side, dropped behind the trees, and exploded.

At one culvert, the pavement had collapsed into the wash. Gladice drove down the shoulder and through a muddy drainage channel while reeds scraped along the sides of the pickup. Farther on, two trucks burned in the middle of a junction while soldiers fired from positions on both sides of the road. Gladice turned onto a narrow side lane before they reached the crossfire.

Louis tried to place them from the road signs and the last marker he remembered before the airport, but after so many turns he could no longer identify the route. He stared at the broken navigation screen.

“Where are we?” Angelique asked at last. Her voice had gone flat and dull.

Gladice answered without turning her head. “Away.”

The trees thinned, and the dirt track widened into a paved road. A damaged checkpoint appeared in the headlights. Its gate arm hung from one hinge, and concrete barriers lay scattered across the lane. One guard booth had been torn open, with smoke rising from its roof. Two militia soldiers lay in the road. A third dragged himself away with one injured leg behind him.

The pickup entered through a gap in the barriers, bounced over splintered wood and loose sandbags, and continued through the checkpoint. No one in the truck spoke for several seconds. Louis turned in his seat and looked back through the rear window. A torn Dixie flag hung above the checkpoint, one corner caught around the pole and the rest snapping in the smoke. He stared at it for a second before he understood. They had driven in a circle and crossed back into Dixie.

“We need to turn around! Now!” He leaned forward toward the cab. “Gladice—”

“Shit.” She said it quietly, more to herself than to him. “Okay, let’s fix that.”

Before Gladice could find enough room to turn the pickup around, several pairs of headlights appeared behind them. The vehicles closed quickly, then slowed as they reached the wrecked checkpoint.

“What the hell is that?” Louis asked.

“Not us,” Gladice said. “We can’t go back now.”

Gladice straightened the pickup and accelerated away from the checkpoint. Louis saw the vehicles stop around it and their doors open. Armed men climbed out. One knelt beside the wounded man. Two others dragged a portable barrier back across the lane. Another man took position in the road with his rifle raised, while someone directed the vehicles into positions around the checkpoint. None of the vehicles turned after them. Their attention remained on the wounded men and the damaged crossing. Angelique stared ahead and said nothing. Gladice kept driving along the unlit road. Florida was still behind them, but the road back to it was gone.

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