Cascade Prequel (Book 1): Encounter Page 3

  “And we now go to Bob Gaskell who is on the ground at LAX…”

  “Thank you, Jessica. Many flights are still canceled here at LAX, which is why most of the routes out of the city are even more blocked… than usual. One thing that is puzzling though, is the sight of a number of military vehicles, including two troop-carrying Chinooks on runway six. We’ve asked the airport authorities for comment but, as yet, Jessica… they have not given us any. We’ll be back after this break.”

  Grant turned the volume down.

  “If they can’t fly. Will I still be staying with you?” said Ben, slightly concerned.

  Grant’s mind was somewhere else. There were now one too many ‘odd occurrences,’ and his cop and author brain were combining to try and understand what would explain them. The flights being canceled explained the 405 and probably the other freeways being congested, but it didn’t explain why he kept seeing trucks piled with people’s household goods. And why was the army here?

  “Terrorist attack…”

  The words came from his mouth before he remembered who was sitting just a few feet from him. He looked across to Ben whose eyes were wide once more, but for a different reason.

  “There’s nothing to be worried about. We’re almost at the airport. Your mother and Travis will see if they can fly out, and even if they can’t, well, I’m sure it will be fine you staying with me anyway.”

  Ben looked away and Grant’s mind was already plotting his own route out of the city with his son.

  They and the SUV pulled up outside the wide clear doors at the entrance. A woman wearing sunglasses, thousand-dollar shoes, an equally expensive short skirt and top was arguing with a taxi driver in Spanish. He kept saying ‘No hay forma de salir de Los Ángeles.’ To which she waved a bundle of money in his face. He crossed his arms and leaned back on the trunk.

  Iona and Travis were already out of their vehicle. He handed the keys to a valet and pulled his suitcases from the rear seats.

  Ben went to get out, but Grant put his hand on him. “Hold on.” He then wound his window down and leaned out. “You sure your flight is still leaving?” he shouted to Iona. She nodded in return. Grant shrugged and looked back to Ben. “Okay, go with them. I’ll meet you at the check-in counter.”

  Ben got out and walked inside with his mother and Travis.

  Grant pulled off with a jolt and quickly found a space outside the multistory. He then ran back to the entrance and was soon inside, jogging past people who either looked lost or angry. He searched above their heads for the digital boards to get his bearings.

  “Checking in for Fantora airlines…”

  Seeing what direction he needed to move, he set off. He was already getting out of breath and regretted having the big breakfast at ‘Big Scott’s’ diner a few hours before. He pulled his sleeves up as he jogged. It was definitely a warm spring day.

  As a chorus of frustrated voices passed him by, he spotted Ben was standing alone at a counter. “They already gone to the gate?” he said between breaths, leaning on the chest-high barrier.

  Ben nodded.

  “So their flight’s still taking off?”

  Before Ben could nod again, the woman behind the counter replied. “Yes, they’re actually boarding now. Earlier than expected, but the boy's parents were lucky they got a flight at all!”

  “Yeah, why all the cancellations?”

  The golden-haired woman leaned forward. “I shouldn’t really be telling you this, but word came down from high to cancel most of the flights out of LAX… and…” she leaned in even closer. “I’m hearing it’s the same around the country…”

  “Are we going to see their plane take off? Can I watch?” said Ben.

  What the woman had just said to Grant slowly seeped into his mind. He looked down to his son. “What? Oh… right… sure.” He looked back to the airline's employee. “Which way to the viewing lounge?”

  As they made their way across the humid interior space of the terminal, and then onto an escalator to the second floor, Grant was examining each strange event of the day.

  People wanting to get out of the city…

  Flights grounded across the country…

  Crazy insect attacking everyone at the party…

  The two strange m—

  Before his final thought could form, people above started shouting and screaming.

  Taking Ben’s hand, he pushed past the others on the steps above him and walked out into the lounge. A series of huge twenty-foot-high windows allowed for a clear view down on most of the airport including northwest LA and the ocean beyond.

  An airplane was taxiing along the runway, but that’s not what everyone was pointing at, for in the light blue haze which sat above the distant waves was a swarm of some kind.

  “Are they birds?” said a man in a white shirt and glasses.

  “They’re moving inland!” said an anxious woman, her sunglasses gripped in her hand.

  “Is that their plane?” said a concerned Ben, looking at the medium-sized passenger jet that was picking up speed.

  Grant moved closer to the window, his eyes darting between the plane and the swarm.

  Come on…

  Somewhere off in the distance an alarm was ringing, together with a muffled voice through a PA system.

  The nose of the passenger plane lifted into the air.

  Grant pulled Ben closer to him.

  A surge of sand whirled into the air like a miniature tornado as the thousands of creatures moved across the beach and onto the far west side of the airport.

  Ben tugged on his arm. “Your phone!”

  Grant realized his cell phone was playing his ex-wife’s ringtone. He tapped it on. “Where are you?”

  The sound of fear came from the speaker. “We’re… on the plane. We’re taking off now! Can you see the things?”

  “Yeah, we’re watching them now—”

  “I… don’t know if we’re going to make—”

  The line went dead. He quickly looked at the phone's screen.

  ‘No service.’

  Their plane was now a few hundred feet off the ground and heading out over the north part of the airfield.

  The swarm kept on coming. An abandoned single-engine plane was the first to be enveloped by it. The plane spun, started to be dragged then broke into pieces, its wings snapping off like twigs and its metal panels being peeled away. The swarm moved passed it, leaving barely a recognizable frame behind.

  “What the hell are those things?” said someone to Grant’s right.

  People started to slowly step back from the window.

  Another, larger plane that was moving along the runway, stopped its forward motion.

  A commotion came from the escalator behind them.

  “We have to evacuate people. Everyone needs to leave right away!” said one of two security guards that were red-faced and out of breath.

  “Did they get away?” said Ben, looking up at Grant.

  The guards tried waving people away from the window, but everyone was transfixed by the scene outside.

  “It’s going for the plane!” shouted someone else.

  “Now! People. Come on, let's go!” shouted one of the guards, pulling on the shoulders of the onlookers.

  Grant, holding Ben’s hand, started to walk backwards. The swarm blanketed the passenger plane. More than one person around him shrieked. The metal sides of the aircraft began to be removed as if the plane had suddenly been hit by a corrosive rain.

  A wing started to buckle, and then the windshield exploded outwards, and the black flying things flew into the newly formed hole as if being sucked inside.

  Despite being too far away, Grant was sure he could hear the screams.

  He turned. “We’re leaving!” he said to Ben.

  Pulling his son with him, they ran to the escalator and started down the steps, not waiting for it to bring them to the bottom. They were not the only ones. Now, a horde of people was doing the same awkward d
ownward motion, descending as quickly as they could.

  Grant and Ben ran from the escalator, joining a throng of people running in all directions, but all towards an exit.

  The faces became blurs as Grant and Ben ran, pushing past people.

  The sound of screaming babies mingled with a cacophony of cries of anguish, and the beating of hundreds of boots and shoes against the glossy terminal floor.

  In the distance, he saw the light of the outside world streaming through the entrance. Keeping a good grip on Ben’s hand they arrived at the doors, pushing through them and out into the less humid air outside.

  The road he had pulled up on just thirty minutes earlier now was a sea of people and vehicles, some with camouflage on them. Soldiers in uniform were already blocking off certain routes.

  Spotting his sedan in the distance he ran from the sidewalk.

  “Hey!” came a female voice from behind him.

  He ignored it and ran across the road, he and Ben weaving around cars and people. They quickly made it to the parking lot, running across a small area of mud and dirt and onto the concrete.

  As they sprinted for the car, Grant became aware that they were not alone. He turned. A woman, the one with the expensive tastes in apparel was limping after them, her shoes in her hands. He looked back to Ben. “Get to the car!” He pointed his key to the car and unlocked it.

  The woman staggered up to him. “I…”

  “What do you want?” said Grant.

  “I… I need you to drive me out of…” she said between breaths.

  Grant went to reply, but the sky turned dark above the terminal. “Fuck…” He looked back to the woman, who was still bent over. “Yes, come on! Leave the shoes!”

  He started running to the car. The woman pulled a face, and looked over her shoulder, tilting her head so she could see over the top of her dark glasses. Her expression changed to one of horror, and she ran to the car, dropping the shoes.

  Grant ignored the screams which were coming from the terminal entrance and jumped in the driver's seat, the woman jumped in behind.

  “They’re hurting people!” The words from Ben were tinged with desperation.

  Grant reversed the car and, as he did, a blur flashed past the windscreen. Then another. Throwing the car back into drive he slammed his foot down on the gas and surged forward, bumping up a curb and then down back onto the road.

  As he weaved left and right, around vehicles and people, the air became full of dark shapes, as if they had suddenly become captured by a storm. A fury of blurs. A woman fell to the ground ahead of them, and a spray of blood covered the windscreen.

  “They’re going to get us!” shouted Ben.

  Left… brake… more gas… right… more right… Years of chasing down perps in the backstreets of LA were feeding through his fingers as he steered his way through the chaos.

  They smashed through a wooden barrier, placed temporarily by soldiers who were firing their M4s into the sky, and swerved onto a four-lane road. People were still running along the sidewalk, but the air was clearer.

  Grant noticed Ben was sobbing. He reached over and held his hand. “We’re okay.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “You live here?” said Luciana Carrillo, sneering at the single-story light pink home Grant stopped outside of.

  He ignored the woman, whose name they learned shortly before they arrived and looked to his son. “We’re going to go inside. I’m going to get some things, then we are coming back out to the car, and we are leaving LA, okay?”

  Ben nodded. “What about mom?”

  “They got away. I’m sure they’re fine.” He wasn’t sure.

  Grant looked back at Luciana. “You need to get out and go about your business.” He pulled his seatbelt off.

  “Hey, I—”

  Grant and Ben got out. Both looking at the sky in the direction of the airport. A dog barked from a nearby garden.

  They walked over the dry patches of earth that sat over the lawn to the front door, Luciana followed them.

  “Hey, I got money. I just need you to drive me south!” She winced as her feet came up against the occasional pebble.

  Grant unlocked the door and moved inside with Ben behind him. He dropped his keys on the hallway table and ran towards his bedroom. “Grab whatever food you want from the kitchen!” he shouted back.

  Ben walked down the hall, past images of himself, his grandparents, and book covers, past the entrance to the living room, and into the kitchen. He immediately walked to the cupboard and looked for his favorite chips. He smiled and took a deep breath on seeing that there were two packets. It had been a crazy birthday, but ‘Goodmans’ spicy chicken chips made everything better.

  Luciana appeared behind him and rushed to the fridge, opening it, pulled a beer from a pack of four and popped the top off with a deft movement from a knife she plucked from the worktop.

  She gulped the beverage down.

  Ben had never seen anyone drink a beer like that except in the ads.

  Luciana took a breath and realized she was being watched. “Get your food, like your papa said. And not chips, they bad for you.” She went back to drinking the beer.

  A scuffling noise came from the hall, and Grant appeared in the doorway. “What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?”

  She stopped drinking the beer and wiped her lips. “Your kid invited me in.”

  Grant looked at Ben, who looked lost for words. He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Look in the bottom cupboard for some black bags,” he said to Ben. “Take a few and throw every bit of food and drink that isn’t fresh in them. I have to go out to my workshop in the yard.” He stepped closer to Luciana. Ben was still frozen to the spot. “Now, Ben, quickly!”

  Grant looked at the woman, with the tied-back, jet-black hair and large loop earrings. He could also see the faint purple skin discoloration of a black-eye behind her sunglasses. “I don’t know what your game here is, but this is my house, and you’re trespassing. You should also know I have a gun, and if you don’t get the hell—”

  From somewhere, she produced a bundle of hundred-dollar notes and was holding them in front of his face. He had seen countless other bundles on the job and knew it was ten thousand dollars give or take a few hundred.

  “This is my first payment to you. You just gotta get me to San Diego.”

  Ben held up an open packet of cookies.

  “Yup, and them.”

  He put them in the plastic sack.

  Grant looked back at Luciana. He had blown through his savings buying Ben’s birthday presents. He figured once his book royalties came in, he would be fine. Right now though, he didn’t have more than a hundred dollars to his name, and if he was going to be on the road, cash was going to come in handy. The problem was, his instincts were telling him this woman was trouble.

  He took the bundle from her and let his fingers flick through it.

  Looks real.

  “Okay, you got a deal. San Diego, then I get the second ten K, agreed?”

  Luciana smiled, pointing at him even though he was just two feet away. “I knew you would be the one.” She looked around the small kitchen diner area. “You got a lady friend? I need shoes.”

  Ben paused from putting items in the bag, waiting for his father to answer.

  Grant looked at him. “Keep going,” then walked to the rear door. “I might have some of my ex’s in my workshop, just help Ben with the food and drink.”

  He unlocked the door, took a quick look up into the cobalt blue sky and stepped outside. His neighbor's dog was joined by others barking.

  Checking if there was any signal on his cell phone, he walked quickly across the slabbed surface and unlocked the wooden hut which sat at the back of his garage. Giving up on his phone, he slid it back into his pocket and walked into the dusty interior. Cobwebs abounded on shelves that held books and boxes with hastily written notes on their lids.

  He immediately pulled some other smaller bo
xes from a large green metal box and produced another key to unlock it. Flipping the top back revealed a number of items from his previous job. A twelve gauge, with two boxes of ammo. His Glock, with four boxes of ammo. Two hunting knives, which he had hardly used, but kept because they used to belong to his father, and two LAPD-issued body armor vests. He picked up one of the latter wondering if Ben could fit inside it without it sliding off him.

  He suddenly stopped, his heart racing. His eyes looking at the contents below him but not seeing. “What the fuck were those things?” he said under his breath. He had seen many a strange thing on the job, but for most of his career, he had been a homicide detective. Dealing with the underworld which existed alongside everything else in LA. What was happening in his city was something else entirely, something above his former pay grade.

  He shook his head. It didn’t matter what they were, or what the thing in the garden was, he just knew something bad was happening on a major scale, and he and his son needed to be somewhere else. He pulled his phone out and looked at it again.

  Still no signal.

  A friend of his in Roswell. A guy he had met at a writers convention some years before, and who specialized in the ‘weird’ told him once over too much bourbon, that if ever there was a major event happening in a major city, and you couldn’t get any cell coverage? It was likely the network had been switched off to stop panic from spreading. It meant the shit was hitting the fan, and the best thing you could do was get the hell out of town. He wondered how Brad was doing.

  A crunching came from outside. Ben appeared at the door.

  “What? Everything alright?” said Grant.

  “The old phone is ringing,” said Ben, his eyes looking at the metal box’s contents.

  Grant closed the lid and ran outside, making sure his son came with him.

  Running into the kitchen, the bell-like noise reverberated through the hallway. He ran into the living room and pulled the plastic phone from a shelf, picking up the receiver.