People rose throughout the sanctuary and began moving toward the side exits. Ushers opened the doors and directed the evacuees outside. Louis rose with the people around him. Angelique and Gladice stayed close on either side of him. The preacher remained onstage with the microphone.
“Outside,” he was saying. “Come outside. The Lord calls us to purify ourselves in the open, not to hide from the light of His justice.”
The line carried them through the side doors. The militiamen had taken the two girls to an open area beside the fellowship hall. More militiamen tried to hold the crowd back, but people kept arriving through several exits. Two metal barrels stood near the wall. One held split wood. Louis smelled fuel from the other.
Then Louis saw the aircraft before he heard them. Two dark shapes crossed high above the camp. He stopped walking. Angelique and Gladice stopped beside him. The people around them kept moving toward the open ground. The preacher was still speaking through the loudspeakers about witness and purification.
Someone screamed as a pair of sonic booms cracked over the church. People flinched and looked up. Dark canisters opened above the compound, and hundreds of submunitions spread beneath them. The first impacts struck the sanctuary roof and the parking lot almost together. Glass burst from the front of the church. Sections of the roof collapsed. Smoke covered the screens inside, and the cross above the entrance broke loose and fell. The blast threw Louis against the wall beside the doors. Pain shot through his shoulder. Around him, people fell as more explosions crossed the lawns and bus rows.
Fragments punched through the side of the nearest bus. The vehicle exploded. Several militiamen raised their rifles and fired at the aircraft already disappearing beyond the camp. The crowd scattered. People collided and fell. Others climbed over them or dragged them aside. A wheelchair tipped onto its side.
The preacher’s voice broke into static and stopped.
“Move!” Gladice shouted, dragging Louis by one arm. “Move!”
“Where?” Angelique had one hand at his other shoulder, holding him against the crush.
“Anywhere! Away!”
Louis found his voice. “The girls!”
Gladice did not argue. She pulled Louis through the running crowd, with Angelique supporting him from the other side. His injured knee nearly gave way once, but he kept moving. He could see only the two girls and the men holding them.
The first girl was still upright. A militiaman held her by the arm while looking toward the burning church. The second girl was on one knee, coughing through the dust with one hand over her head. Another militiaman hauled her upright by the arm. A man from the crowd charged at the first girl, shouting about blasphemy and God’s judgment. He swung at her, but the militiaman holding her blocked the punch with his rifle and struck him across the jaw with the butt. The man fell.
Louis stopped for half a second. The militiaman still held the girl with one hand and carried the rifle in the other. Another explosion shook the ground. Louis’s pulse hammered in his throat. He drew the Colt, closed the last few steps, and fired at arm’s length. The pistol jerked in his hand. He barely heard the shot beneath the explosions. The militiaman collapsed and released the girl. The second militiaman turned toward Louis and brought his rifle around. Louis fired before the barrel reached him. The man stumbled backward into one of the fuel barrels. A submunition exploded nearby, throwing dirt and smoke between them.
“Come on!” Angelique was already beside the second girl. “With us! Both of you!”
The first girl ran beside them. Her face was pale, but her eyes kept moving over the lot. The second girl coughed, her eyes streaming. One shoe was missing, and the sleeve of her floral dress had been torn open. Angelique pulled her through the smoke. Louis followed with the cane in his left hand and the Colt raised in his right. People lay across the grass. Some were still trying to crawl.
Another series of explosions struck the far bus rows. One windshield burst.
“This way!” the first girl shouted.
She ran toward double steel doors marked STAFF ONLY beside the fellowship wing. One door hung partly open from the blast. Emergency lights flickered inside a smoke-filled service corridor. Gladice followed. Angelique pulled the second girl inside. Louis entered last and dragged the warped door shut behind him.
Sprinkler water ran across the floor. Fallen ceiling tiles blocked parts of the corridor, and an alarm sounded overhead.
“Where?” Louis asked.
The first girl continued down the corridor.
“Garage,” she said. “Or transport bay. Churches this size always have one.”
Gladice stepped past them and checked both directions. “Move.”
They moved quickly. Louis forced himself to keep up despite the pain in his knee. The first girl led them through the service corridors. She stopped close to each wall sign before choosing a direction. After two right turns, she leaned toward a sign beside a damaged door until her face was only inches from it.
VOLUNTEER TRANSPORT.
The door hung from one hinge. Inside, three monitors were still on. The center screen showed a map of the church grounds and its vehicles.
Gladice checked the hall, then motioned toward the computer.
“Fast.”
The girl pulled the chair out and sat down. She pulled the keyboard closer and leaned toward the center monitor. Her fingers moved quickly over the keyboard.
“What are you doing?” Gladice asked.
The girl did not look at her. “Getting us a van.”
She opened the church fleet list. Six transport vans were listed. She selected the last one, but the screen asked for a staff login. A badge hung from the desk lamp. She lifted it close to her face, read the name, and typed it in. The login failed.
“Are we just going to stand here?” Gladice said.
“Shut up,” the girl said.
She backed out and began opening staff pages, keeping her face close to the screen as she searched. Louis recognized an email account and a password reset page, but she moved through them faster than he could follow. A new message appeared. She opened it, changed the password, and returned to the fleet system. This time it let her in.
The second girl looked from the screen to her.
“You can do that?”
“Not always.” Her hands were shaking slightly on the keyboard. “Only when I’m angry.”
Gladice laughed once and looked at Louis. “I think I like her.”
The van’s status page opened on the center monitor. The first girl leaned close until her face was only inches from the screen. Louis could make out the fuel level, the door controls, a key symbol, and the van’s position on the church map.
He watched her move through the controls. “What exactly are you doing?”
“It’s a keyless fleet system,” she said without looking away from the screen. “The computer sends an unlock command to the van’s onboard unit. The fob stays in a lockbox inside. Now let me work.”
“How long?”
“Working on it. Now stop talking.”
Nothing happened at first. Then a faint electronic chirp sounded from somewhere below. A second chirp followed. Gladice turned toward the sound.
“Come on.”
“Wait. I’m killing the tracking ping and muting the door alarm.” The girl opened another page and worked through several options Louis did not recognize. “It’ll still start if the fob is inside.”
Angelique said, “What about security cameras?”
The girl searched the controls, moving her face closer to the screen. “That will need access to the server room. I don’t think we have enough time.”
“Leave it.”
Another explosion shook the floor beneath them. Dust and plaster fell onto the desk. The monitors flickered, and everyone ducked. The power failed. All three monitors went black. The emergency lights blinked once and steadied.
“Now we don’t have to worry about the cameras,” the girl said.
“Good. Let’s go.”
They ran into a concrete stairwell and reached the garage at the bottom of the stairs. Three vehicles occupied the fleet bays. A gray twelve-seat van stood in Bay 3. The other two had been hit by fragments. One had a shattered windshield. Fluid ran from a hole in the hood of the other. The van in Bay 3 appeared undamaged. Its parking lights flashed once.
“Beautiful,” Gladice said.
She yanked the driver’s door open. An unlocked keybox was mounted beside the center console. The fob was inside. Gladice grabbed it and pressed the start button. The engine started.
Louis turned toward the others.
“Get in.”
Angelique pulled the side door open and pushed the second girl inside. The first girl climbed in after her. Louis lowered himself into the front passenger seat and stretched out his injured leg. Angelique climbed in through the side and slammed the door shut.
Gladice smiled.
“Alright, children. Let’s drive.”
She backed out quickly and turned the van toward the ramp. One side of the service door had been blown inward. She drove through the opening, scraping paint from the van as it passed.
The van emerged into smoke, fire, and scattered debris. Bodies lay in the grass. Gladice steered around the wreckage, turned onto the maintenance lane, and accelerated toward the county road. A militiaman looked toward the van, saw the church markings on its side, and faced the lot again. Within seconds, Louis could no longer see the church through the smoke. He rested his head against the seat and closed his eyes. He had killed before, but he still saw the two men he had just shot. Then came the bodies scattered across the church lawn. His stomach tightened, and he swallowed against the nausea.
He opened his eyes as their van joined the refugee traffic moving along the highway. Gladice eased between a church bus with cracked windows and an overloaded SUV. The vehicles around them moved in fits and starts. Across the median, police cruisers, fire trucks and ambulances headed in the opposite direction, back toward the church. Civilian vehicles pulled onto the shoulder to let a convoy pass.
“Where are we?” Gladice raised her voice over the passing sirens.
“Forty miles south of Atlanta.” The first girl leaned forward between the front seats.
“Thank you.” Gladice kept her eyes on the road. “Mind if I ask your name?”
“Willa.”
“Gladice. I hope we can meet in better circumstances.”
Willa shifted closer to the gap between the front seats. “You’re not from here.”
“No.”
“Where are you from?”
“New Orleans.” Gladice changed lanes around a stalled minivan on the shoulder. “You?”
“Boston,” Willa said.
Angelique turned in her seat to look at her. “You’re a long way from home.”
Willa looked back at her. “Aren’t we all? How about you?”
“Portland, Oregon. I am Angelique. And this is Louis from L.A.”
“Louis,” Willa repeated. She leaned farther forward and narrowed her eyes at him. “You are the son of the Supreme President of the Dominion.” She turned to Angelique. “And you are the Bourbon princess, right? I saw you guys on the news.”
Angelique did not seem pleased to be recognized, but she nodded.
“Oh my god! Louis Collins and Angelique Bourbon saved me today?” The second girl still had tear tracks on her cheeks, and her voice came out slightly nasal. Then she laughed. “Allah be praised!”
“You’re welcome,” Louis said. “And you are?”
“Donya Al Madani. I am from Chicago.” She rubbed beneath her nose, still smiling. “I am such a big fan of you two. I didn’t recognize you because...you know...the chaos. But wow. I should have known. You look so much better in person.” She kept looking from Louis to Angelique. “Thank you so much.”
“You are welcome.” Angelique gave her a tired smile. “I appreciate that.”
Donya turned toward Angelique. “And you’re taller than I thought you’d be. Can I ask you about your dress sense? It’s amazing. I love your style.”
“Maybe later,” Angelique said. “I’m a little tired right now.”
“Of course! I’m so sorry. You’ve had a crazy day. We all have.” Donya covered her face with both hands. “I can’t believe I’m in the same van as you.”
“It’s very nice to meet you too,” Angelique said.
Gladice cleared her throat. “Can we talk about our route?”
Willa leaned forward again, one hand on the back of the driver’s seat. “Let’s follow the refugees to Atlanta for now.”
“Why Atlanta?”
“Because it’s big enough to disappear in. There are shelters and soup kitchens. And the Holy States can’t lock down the whole city. Not yet.”
“Then what?”
“Then we think.” Willa looked toward the rearview mirror.
Gladice glanced at the mirror, then nodded. “Alright.”
The van continued with the refugee traffic. Another convoy of emergency vehicles passed in the opposite lanes.
“Where were you before the church?” Louis asked.
Willa looked down at her lap. “Before or after the kidnapping?”
“After,” Louis said.
“I was promised to a Dixie soldier.” Willa kept her eyes on her lap. “Until I hacked the speaker to play porn during the wedding sermon.”
Angelique gave a short laugh. “I love you.”
Willa did not smile. “It got me on stage.”
Donya said, “Me too. They tried to marry me off to a preacher. I told him I wasn’t Christian, and he said I would be. So I cursed his god and his church and they threw me out with the other infidels.”
“That’s why they picked us,” Willa said. “Two girls who refused to be property. How about you guys?”
“Long story,” Louis said.
“Short version,” Gladice answered, “we were kidnapped as well.”
“By the same people?” Donya asked.
“I don’t know,” Louis said. “They worked for a man named Theodore Hargrove.”
Willa looked at Louis when she heard the name. “I’ve heard the name. He’s like the head of secret police here.”
“He rules this country now.” Louis shrugged.
“Shit.” Willa raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“There was a coup two days ago.”
“In Dixie? I suppose anything could happen.”
“Something like that.” Louis looked at Donya. “How did you get here?”
“Someone abducted me from the dressing room of a shopping mall in Chicago. I thought they wanted money. They wanted something else.”
Donya fell silent. No one pressed her, and Willa spoke next.
“They took me outside my university dorm. I was coming back from the library at ten and there were just...men. Big ones. With guns.”
Angelique looked at the rear window and said, “This place is a nightmare.”
Willa nodded once. “Yeah. It is.”
“So what was happening at the church?” Donya asked quietly.
Gladice said, “Bombers.”
Donya looked at her. “Whose?”
“The Collective. Who else?”
Willa turned toward Gladice. “You’re sure?”
Gladice glanced at her. “Yeah. Those were S-28 Roadrunners. Best strike bombers we ever built. I’d know that sound anywhere. Good thing they didn’t get us too.”
Donya looked down, then toward the emergency vehicles passing in the opposite lanes. “There were civilians there.”
“Those civilians were about to burn you two alive. So I’m not crying over them,” Gladice said.
“That’s still too much.” Donya shook her head.
Gladice looked at her in the mirror. “Too much for what?”
“Too much violence. It’s wrong to kill people like that. They are all Allah’s children.”
Gladice kept her eyes on the road. “We already nuked half of Atlanta in 2012. We’ve done the worst part already.”
“I know. That was bad too.” Donya frowned. “But we can stop now, right? We don’t have to keep killing each other.”
Angelique turned to her. “Sweetheart, I agree with you, but I’m not sure the rest of the world does.”
Donya sighed. “I know. It’s just so sad.”
No one spoke after that. Louis looked out at the northbound traffic and thought, not for the first time, that North America had collapsed into too many countries for anyone left alive to afford moral surprise.
After a while, Donya moved down the aisle and began checking the storage space behind the rear seats. Three handbags had been shoved against the rear doors.
Donya frowned. “Whose are these?”
Gladice glanced at the rearview mirror. “Not ours.”
Donya lifted one. It was heavier than a handbag should have been. She looked at Willa, then at Angelique. “Can I open this?”
Angelique shrugged. “If you want.”
Donya unzipped it. She stared inside, then looked up.
“What?” Angelique asked.
She turned the open bag toward them. Stacks of banknotes filled it, each bundle wrapped in a paper band.
Willa leaned across first. “No way.”
“Is that—” Angelique began, then stopped.
“Euros,” Willa said. “Fifties.”
Donya pulled out one bundle and turned it over in her hands.
Gladice gave a short laugh. “What the hell is cash doing in a church van?”
Willa picked up the second bag. She opened it and found more of the same. A third handbag held still more. She looked at Angelique. “This is a lot of money.”
“How much?”
Willa checked the bundles. “I don’t know. Two hundred thousand? More?”
Angelique’s mouth tightened as she looked at the money. She picked up one of the bundles and turned it over in her hands.
“Lote M28. Control 0417.” She looked at the other bundles. “The bands are in Spanish.”
Donya said, “I don’t understand. Why would the church have euros?”
“Because they know HS dollars are going to shit.” Willa kept checking the bundles. “Even the fanatics hedge their bets.”
“Must be a slush fund.” Louis turned to look back at the bags.
“Or paying whoever brought us here,” said Donya.
“Or evacuation fund,” said Angelique.
“Or laundering,” said Willa.
Gladice shrugged. “Or all four.”
The van hit a seam in the highway and bounced. One bundle slid from Donya’s lap onto the rubber floor.
“What are we going to do about it?” Donya asked.
Willa closed the second bag and leaned back. “I think we take it.”
Gladice glanced at her. “Why not?”
Donya looked between them. “It’s stealing.”
“Is it?” Gladice said. “The owners are probably dead. The church is a pile of rubble. I’d say finders keepers.”
Louis looked at Willa. “You’re okay with that?”
“I have no problem stealing from terrorists,” she said.
Donya said, “They are still people.”
“Who were going to burn you alive,” Gladice said. “So.”
Donya frowned and said nothing more. She picked up the fallen bundle and put it back with the others.
Louis looked at the money. “We don’t know who it belonged to. We do know we need fuel, food, a room, clothes, and a way to get out of this country. So we take it.”
Donya exhaled and nodded once.
Willa repacked the bags carefully. “Then if we’re keeping it, we need to stop driving around in this van.”
Gladice laughed under her breath. “Agreed.”
At the split, signs marked three routes into the city, the airport, and several suburbs Louis did not recognize.
Gladice said, “Alright. We need a place to get off the road.”
“A motel,” said Louis.
“At this hour?” Donya asked.
“Exactly at this hour,” Angelique said.
Gladice took the exit marked for a beltline road without signaling. “Good enough.”
“Don’t stop at the first place,” Willa said.
“Why not?”
“Because everyone stops at the first place.”
Gladice almost smiled. “That’s very true.”
They passed two motels before Gladice slowed. The third motel stood beside the main road, set back behind a narrow parking lot. Louis saw the vacancy sign first, then the two-story building with its outside corridors. There were only a few cars in the lot, and he could see only one camera above the office door. A fried chicken restaurant occupied the next property. Beyond the alley behind it, the low roofs of a strip mall were visible.
Gladice turned in. The van rolled through the lot at idle speed. A row of rooms stood on the far side, their curtains closed. Louis looked at the office. No one was visible inside. A television flickered in the back room. Gladice shut off the engine.
Louis looked at Angelique, Gladice, Willa, and Donya, then at the bags of euros.
“Alright,” he said. “I’ll get out and do the talking. We take whatever room they’ll give us. Then we stay low and make a real plan.”
This time no one disagreed.
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