The Hatching (The Hatching #1)(78)
It was morning now, and the rerouting of traffic had begun. Kim wasn’t sure why they weren’t just turning people around, but Honky Joe said that if Los Angeles was as bad as it sounded, they couldn’t send people back, but they also couldn’t let people just break the quarantine zone. Hence the wire fences and temporary holding pens. Or, as Honky Joe put it, not at all reassuringly, “Think of it as a short-term refugee camp.”
The sun made an angry promise about the coming heat of the day. A thin wisp of smoke twisted out of the burning hulk of metal that had been an SUV just a few hours earlier. The Marines had opened the road toward the camp outside Desperation, and from where she sat in the driver’s seat of the JLTV, Kim could see every driver and passenger take a look at the smoldering SUV as they turned off the highway. Kim’s squad and all the other squads—including the two tanks—were ordered to hold their line; squads in Hummers and JLTVs lined the road to the internment camp, spaced out every hundred yards or so, but they barely seemed necessary. Once the traffic started moving, people seemed so happy just to be off the highway that nobody questioned where they were going. The American people, Kim thought, preferred to be sheep. They’d been funneling traffic toward the holding pens outside Desperation for close to an hour, and there had been only one report of a car trying to break the line. If anything, the civilians had an almost celebratory air. Sure, they looked a little startled at the sight of the smoking SUV, but for the most part, people were waving and smiling at the Marines as they passed. They’d been taught to see the military as heroes, even if, Kim thought, they were mostly acting as traffic cops right now.
She had the windows open in the tactical vehicle, but it was still pretty gamey, full-on FAN: feet, ass, nuts. Duran was in the passenger seat and had found a phone charger somewhere. He was reading the news, a frustrating endeavor given how shitty the signal was out where they were. Elroy was manning the .50 cal, and Mitts was taking a nap in the back. There wasn’t much to do other than watch the traffic merging painfully onto the side road. What exactly did the military plan to do once all the cars were there? How long was this quarantine supposed to last? There had to be what, forty, fifty thousand people backed up on the highway? Maybe more? Kim glanced over at the wrecked hulk of the SUV again, looking at the pockmarks where the bullets had punched through the hood. She still couldn’t believe nobody had been killed. It made her feel sick. She’d been trained to open fire on hostiles, to take the shot before anybody could get close enough to detonate a car bomb. That was the world the military lived in now. But she’d never expected to have to operate on domestic soil. She was in the Marines to protect Americans.
“They’re saying Japan now too.”
Kim looked over at Duran. “Tokyo?”
He shook his head. “No. I’ve never heard of the place. Somewhere rural, in the mountains.”
“What about Los Angeles? Anything new?”
“Nothing. Phones and satellites and all that shit are overwhelmed. I mean, there’s stuff, but it all seems kind of sketchy. Guesses.”
Kim turned to check on Mitts, but he was still sleeping hard, his mouth open and the low whine of a snore coming out. “So, basically, nobody knows what’s going on?”
Duran put his phone on the dashboard. “It’s the military. Somebody probably knows what’s going on, but we’re going to be waiting a long time before anybody shares that information with E-1s.”
“Yeah, well, I’m an E-3. Since I wildly outrank you,” she said, her voice droll, “they’ll clearly tell me first.” She was pleased to see him smile. “So,” she said, “what’s next? We just going to sit here and babysit traffic for the next few days?”
“Honestly? I haven’t really thought about it.”
“How can you not think about it?”
“Well, I figure, as you are so quick to remind me, you’re the fire team leader, Ms. Lance Corporal, so it’s your job to think about stuff. I just follow orders.”
“Go f*ck yourself, Duran.” She smiled when she said it, but that didn’t stop Duran from frowning and shaking his head forcefully.
“No, no. I’m not giving you a hard time, Kim. I’m serious. We trust you. There’s a reason you’re the fire team leader instead of one of us. I kind of figured if there was something to worry about, you’d think of it. That’s not what I’m good at.”
“Fine. Okay. But there are some real questions, right? I mean, if these spiders are all over the world, can we really expect them to stay put in Los Angeles? And what happens when the camp fills up?” She gestured out the windshield at the traffic. It was moving slowly, at the pace of a brisk walk, but it was moving. “Because there are a lot of cars out there.”
“Kim, what’s that—”
“No, seriously. We need to worry about—”
“Kim.” He said her name sharply, holding up his hand. “Do you hear that?”
She was quiet, but the pop-pop-pop of a heavy-caliber weapon was easy to hear once she stopped talking. It was coming from her far left, toward the temporary holding area. She turned and gave Mitts a poke, waking him up, before opening her door and stepping out. Even with the heat, it was a relief to be out of the JLTV. The fresh air was good. She saw Elroy looking down at her from where he stood. He had spent shells under the triggers as safeties and his hands at his sides, but he didn’t look relaxed. There was a moment of silence, and then one, two, maybe three of the .50 cals went off, plus small-arms fire. It sounded a ways off. At least a klick. There was nothing on the radio.