by Kenny Soward
“Not now, honey,” Sara told her daughter in a strained voice. “I’m just having a word with this nice officer.”
“Miss,” the man said again, this time with a narrower grin as he looked to the back of the van. “If you don’t produce your papers, I’ll be forced to take you into custody.”
The sound of Rex’s warning growl came from the back of the van, and Sara imagined the dog was looking at the officer with his ears pinned up and his head cocked slightly.
“Yes, of course.” Sara glanced to her left and saw some spots of dark red on the officer’s uniform. She swallowed, leaned across to the glove compartment, and snapped it open. Then she fished around inside for her insurance and registration. She always kept her documents neatly organized and bound with a paper clip, so she pretended it was a mess and she had to dig hard to find them.
This was no police officer. She was convinced of that. She’d heard about criminals posing as officers before, and now she could hardly believe it was happening to her. Was this real? And the bigger question: what was she going to do about it?
Sara finally took hold of the bundle of documents and drew it out. Then she straightened and handed it to the officer.
“Here you go—”
Something struck her in the side of the head, rocking her back in the seat. Stars blossomed in her vision and before she could see what had hit her, a hand closed around her throat and squeezed.
“Ach—” Sara last word was choked off. She grabbed the hand with both of hers and tried to break free, but the grip around her throat was like a vice grip cranked to full pressure. She tried to get her fingers between his hand and her throat, finding there wasn’t a millimeter of give.
Sara glared at the grinning man as he choked the life out of her.
“Mom!” Todd reached forward and pushed at the man’s arm.
Zoe wailed and Rex barked his head off, but it all sounded far away and fuzzy to her oxygen-depleted brain.
Sara abandoned the man’s hand and reached down along the side of her seat, feeling around for the biometric print reader. She put her fingers into the grooves and waited for an eternity for the box to pop open. Her hand encircled the familiar grip of her Beretta 92FS pistol. She drew the weapon, flipped the safety off, and pointed it in the officer’s general direction. With her vision rapidly fading and her head feeling light as a feather, firing in his general direction wouldn’t guarantee a hit, all while she knew she couldn’t aim the weapon properly without risking him grabbing it away.
Sara pulled the trigger repeatedly, gunshots pounding like a hammer against metal in the closed van, until the grip on her throat released, accompanied by a cry of pain. Then she sucked in a mouthful of precious, wonderful air and threw the van into drive.
Ears ringing, kids screaming, dog barking, Sara hit the gas and peeled off down the road.
Chapter 3
Jake, Boston, Massachusetts | 5 a.m., Saturday
Jake dreamed about the nice lady and her husband. The ones he’d let go ahead of them in the hallway just before the storm hit. They shuffled along, the lady holding her husband’s arm as he limped in a pair of old shorts. He was tall though slightly hunched, and his shoulders were wide and strong. He looked like someone who’d worked hard and remained unbroken by life’s weight.
Then came the monstrous sound of the tornado as it hit the side of the hotel, sloughing away layers of wood and metal like butter. The woman grasped her husband’s arm and looked back at Jake with hopeless, knowing eyes. Then she and her husband were sucked out of the gaping hole in a scream of wind and rain.
Jake woke with a gasp and raised himself up onto his elbow. He rubbed his face, trying to recall where he was. His clothes were soggy, his skin clammy, and someone sobbed quietly nearby. The sound of a waterfall reached his ears, and he realized it must be water from the storm running down the walls.
It all came back.
The convention. The storm.
After helping the woman in the bathrobe down to the lobby, Jake had found the hotel staff and a group of fifty people huddled against a wall near the elevators. The staff was doing the best they could to keep people calm, even though they were practically kids and they couldn’t reach their manager on their two-way radios.
Water had soaked the entire lobby, and part of the ceiling was missing near the east side of the elevator banks where the tornado had hit. Despite the chance of possible floodwaters coming in from the bay, Jake had convinced everyone to go down into one of the small conference rooms in case the hurricane spawned another tornado. After getting the woman settled in, Jake had checked himself for injuries. He’d found several cuts and bruises on his arms and legs, but nothing serious.
Jake had made a makeshift bed out of four chairs just as exhaustion overcame him. With a tablecloth for a cover, he’d fallen into a fitful sleep only to wake just a short time later, still drained and disoriented.
Others were also waking up or had been up for most of the night. A few battery-powered lamps cast light and enhanced shadows around the room. A shadow fell over Jake, and he looked up to see it was one of the hotel staff, her purple shirt hanging loose from her shoulders.
“How are you, sir?” she asked, leaning in.
“I’m fine.” Jake squinted until he could read the name on her badge. “I’m fine, uh, Ashley.” Then he realized it was the same young woman who’d been staring at her phone behind the front desk when he’d come in last night. “Were you up all night?”
“We all were,” Ashley replied, glancing around at the other hotel staff mingling with the survivors.
“That’s dedication.” Jake’s voice was gravely. “I was going to give you guys three stars on Yelp, but I’m upping it to five.”
“Thanks,” Ashley said with an exhausted smile. “Hey, you want a bottled water?”
“Yeah, that’d be great,” Jake said, reaching out to take the offered container. He opened the top and put it to his lips, drinking more greedily than he’d intended. He finished three-quarters of it before he smacked his lips and put the lid back on. “Thanks.”
“No problem. How about some food? We brought back some snacks from the kitchen.”
“There’s a kitchen left?”
“Yep. We’ve got crackers, bags of mixed nuts, cool ranch chips, and cookies. Oh, and Thin Mints, too, if that’s your thing.”
“I’ll take the mixed nuts,” Jake said, throwing off the cover and sitting up. Then he quickly added, “and as many of the Thin Mints as you can spare. I love those things.” He accepted the packages from Ashley and nodded gratefully. “What’s going on with the storm outside? Have you heard anything yet?”
“No one’s been upstairs,” the young woman said. “There’s no phone reception and no one can get online, either.”
“Well, keep me posted,” Jake told her. “I’ll do whatever I can to help.”
After Ashley left, Jake devoured the small bag of nuts she’d given him and then broke open the foil on one of the sleeves of Thin Mints. He glanced around at the stranded people down here and then pulled out his phone. There were still no bars, as he suspected, and the power was down to forty four percent. Jake turned the phone off and stuck it back in his pocket, trying to conserve battery life in the hopes of reaching Sara and his children before too much time passed.
Jake had the overwhelming urge to go upstairs and check for a signal, so he finished the cookie, put the wrapper in his pocket, and stood. He stretched his arms over his head and yawned some of the sleepiness away before he looked around for the exit.
That’s when Jake saw the man from last night sitting at a table with some other survivors. He had one of the lanterns all to himself, along with a stack of snacks and at least a dozen bottles of water. The man was arguing with one of the hotel staff, gesturing wildly at him in an intimidating manner.
A sudden anger swelled in Jake’s chest, and he walked over to the small group with stiff strides.
“And that’s
not the only thing I’m going to do,” the man was saying. “I’ll make sure each and every one of you are fired. I’ve never seen such a poorly run facility. Deer in headlights is what I’d call you. I’d say—”
“Hey!” Jake shouted, fists clenched at his sides. “You’re him.”
The man stopped berating the hotel staffer and looked up at Jake with a scoff. “Who are you? And what do you want?”
“You’re the guy who pushed his way past everyone in the hallway last night.” Jake’s anger grew by the second, yet he couldn’t put his finger on why. He’d never been a violent guy, but something about this man and his actions—along with the terrifying events of last night—had pushed him over the edge. “You almost knocked my friend and her husband down.”
“Who cares?” The man shook his head and made a dismissive sound.
“They might have made it out if it weren’t for you,” Jake said, edging closer. “All you had to do was form an orderly line instead of being such a selfish jerk.”
“What did you call me?” the man asked, standing. Then he lowered his voice dangerously. “Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m the—”
Jake’s fist made contact with the man’s jaw and sent him tumbling back into his chair. It had been fifteen years or more since Jake had last struck another man in anger, and that had been some random high school scuffle he hardly remembered.
“Mind your manners,” Jake said, shaking his stinging fist as he walked past. It sounded lame, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“You’ll be hearing from my lawyer!” the man shouted at Jake’s back as he walked out of the conference room and into the hallway.
Jake stopped, shook his head, and took a deep breath as the anger burned away. It was nearly pitch black in the hallway, and he couldn’t remember how to get upstairs.
“The steps are that way.”
He turned to see that it was Ashley, her face lit up by one of the lanterns she held. She raised it and shone the light down the hallway where Jake saw a set of carpeted stairs going up.
“Perfect,” he said, taking two steps in the direction of the stairwell. “I appreciate that.”
“You’re welcome,” Ashley replied before raising her voice quickly. “And thanks for what you did.”
“What did I do?” Jake turned back.
“You shut that loudmouth up,” Ashley said. “I’d never condone violence, but I’ve been wanting to slap him all morning. I don’t think he cares…” Ashley’s words drifted off, and her eyes fell to the floor.
“He doesn’t care that people died last night.”
“Yeah.” Ashley’s voice quivered, and tears glistened as they streaked down her cheeks. “He’s like you said. A real jerk. And we’ve been so scared.”
“Hey, hey.” Jake hesitantly rested his arm across her shoulders, and when she didn’t complain, Jake squeezed her a little tighter. “You guys are doing a great job running the show. You kept that loudmouth quiet long enough for me to get some shuteye, right?”
“I guess so,” Ashley said with a tired sigh.
“Hey, I’m going to scout around and see what’s going on upstairs.” Jake let her go with a friendly pat on the shoulder. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Okay,” Ashley said, and then her expression turned hopeful. “Do you think they’ll send help soon?”
“That’s what I’m going to find out,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back in a half hour or less.”
“Awesome,” Ashley said, her expression lifting. “Thanks, Mister…”
“Jake. Just call me Jake.”
“Thanks, Jake. Be careful.”
“I will.”
Jake went up the stairs, feet squelching on the wet carpet. At the top, the wind still howled but not as much as last night. Morning gray seeped through the big hole where the upper floors used to be, and water dripped down through the ruination. No birds sang, making the quiet almost painful.
Pulling out his cell phone, Jake was disappointed to see there was still no signal, so he turned it off and returned it to his pocket before he exited the back door of the Westin and stepped into a world of chaos. His jaw dropped as he took in the immense damage caused by the tornado. Cars and debris were tossed atop one another, some thrown into the bottom floors of the buildings across the street. Bricks and siding had been hurled across the pavement along with paper, tree branches, and cables. Street signs were bent to the ground or ripped out completely.
It looked like the world had been tossed into a blender and turned to the “whip” setting.
The streets had to be impassable, so maybe that was why rescue teams had not made it deep into the city yet. There were no signs of FEMA or flashing lights. No helicopters flying to check for survivors. Not even a siren. The world was eerily quiet but for the sounds of wind and rain, and Jake felt his clothes already starting to soak through.
Staying close to the hotel wall to shield himself from the storm, Jake went carefully so he didn’t step on a nail or other sharp object. It took him ten exhausting minutes to get around to the other side of the hotel where he could have a look around.
His heart sank as he stepped onto the path the tornado had made and looked southwest. A big chunk was missing from the hotel all the way to the top floor, and the roof of the convention center had been sheared away, along with most of its side. Doing a one-eighty, Jake looked northeast where the twister had continued all the way to the Boston Harbor before it turned back toward downtown.
There were mountains of debris and unimaginable destruction. Jake pretended some of the things laying in the street weren’t pieces of the people who’d been sucked out of the third-floor hallway. He felt distant, detached, almost as if he were seeing things from behind a camera lens. Only the cold wind and rain confirmed this was real.
Jake completed a full circle turn, noticing another low cloud formation just off the coast. It could be another storm forming, or even the first signs of another tornado. Worse, the entire southeastern part of the city was flooded, waves reaching from Reserved Channel all the way up Summer Street. If the water got much higher, it would flood the Westin and all the people inside.
That made it even more important for Jake to try and find help, and if he couldn’t find help, lead everyone out of the building to safety.
Footsteps crunched the ground behind him, and Jake spun, ready to fight.
A shadowy figure wearing a maroon hoodie approached from behind a pile of rubble. The person’s face was hidden beneath the hood, and their hands were jammed deep into the hoodie pockets.
Jake tensed and took a step away from the figure, instinctively balling his hands into fists. He didn’t want to seem too threatening, but he wanted to be ready in case this person meant him harm.
“Jeesh, buddy,” a woman said, stopping in her tracks. “It’s just me.”
She stepped forward, reached up, and pushed back the hood to reveal the face of the woman he’d helped back in the hotel. The woman in the bathrobe and soggy slipper. She’d changed into a pair of track shoes and snug-fitting jeans, and her hoodie was tight enough to reveal a more athletic form than suggested by the frumpy woman in the loose bathrobe. She ran her hand through a wave of thick dark hair that settled on her shoulders, and her brown eyes regarded Jake with a mixture of amusement and doubt behind a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. Someone had cleaned the blood off her face and put a bandage over the cut on her head.
“My name is Marcy,” she said and started to offer her hand but then drew it back.
“Well, Marcy,” Jake said, releasing a slow breath he hadn’t even known he was holding. “You shouldn’t sneak up on people like that. You about gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry,” Marcy said with a quip in her tone. “Who’d you think it was? Some gang member trying to steal your spare change?”
“I didn’t know who it was,” Jake said with a slight hint of agitation. “You surprised me, and I could have hit you or som
ething.”
“Sorry,” she said in a defensive tone. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I just didn’t want to stay cooped up in the hotel, so I hustled up to my room, picked up some clothes, and found my glasses, see?”
“Yeah, I see,” Jake said, allowing his body to relax as much as it could in the cold rain. “Good job.”
“I can see why you’re on edge,” Marcy said, looking around. “This place has really gone to pot.”
“Yeah, it’s bad. I know a little bit about hurricanes, and I’m pretty sure it’s been a long time since Boston got hit like this. Maybe a hundred years or more.”
Jake followed the woman’s gaze as she looked all around, watching as she experienced the same range of emotions he had just gone through. He could see her chipper attitude diminish under the sheer weight of the destruction around them.
“Looks like the hotel is going to flood.” Marcy looked east, where the water continued to rise.
Jake’s eyes fell to the ground as he thought about what to do. The urge to get home was overwhelming, but he couldn’t just leave those people stuck in the conference room with the possibility it might flood.
He shook his head and fixed Marcy with a determined look. “I wanted to walk to the edge of the city and get a lift inland, but I can’t just leave everyone behind. Not with the possibility of flooding.”
“I’ll help,” Marcy said. “What did you have in mind?”
“We should widen the search and try to find some help fast,” Jake said. “I’m thinking we go southwest a couple of miles and then turn north. First, we need to warn Ashley and the rest of the stranded folks that the place might flood. I can’t imagine South Boston under water, although Mother Nature doesn’t seem to be playing nice.”
“No, she’s not.” Marcy’s eyes lingered on the flooding another moment, then she turned her attention to Jake, reaching out with a confident hand. “What’s your name?”
“Jake,” he replied, taking her hand and giving it a shake. “Nice to meet you.”