Tempest

by Kenny Soward

  “I helped?”

  “You really did.”

  Zoe’s face lit up for a moment, then she was overcome with a yawn. “Night, Mom. Night, Todd.”

  “Night, Zo,” Todd replied, ruffling her hair.

  “Come on, Rex,” Zoe said as she went over to the couch and grabbed her blanket. The faithful shepherd followed her up the stairs to her bedroom, and Sara watched as her daughter stumbled sleepily inside, leaving the door wide open.

  “What a day,” she mumbled under her breath.

  “We’re going to be sore tomorrow,” Todd said where he sat across from her. “I haven’t worked out like that in a long time.”

  “Me either.” Sara glanced up in thought. “I had a jog last week, then it was all packing for this trip, and I didn’t have a chance to do much of anything else. No, today felt really good.”

  They sat in silence for a minute, sipping their coffee and listening to the wind and rain rattle against the plastic they’d nailed over the broken window. Todd stared down at his useless cell phone, as Sara’s eyes kept roaming to her laptop where she could learn more news of the east coast storms, and a message that might be waiting for her.

  She tentatively pulled her laptop closer, opened it, and powered it on.

  “That’s not going to work,” Todd said. “Internet is down. No cable, either.”

  “It will with this,” Sara said, pointing to the big Sat-Fi card stuck into the slot on the side of the laptop. “Your father and I purchased a Cosmic Link subscription a couple of years ago.”

  “That’s satellite Wi-Fi?”

  “That’s right,” Sara said. “I wasn’t sure if we were still subscribed. It turns out we had it set to auto-renew.”

  “It works?”

  “I checked it earlier today.” Sara nodded carefully. “Before we went out.”

  “But you were too afraid to check the news?” Todd asked, raising his eyes to his mother questioningly.

  “Not at all,” Sara said, even though that wasn’t entirely true. She didn’t want Todd to know how much she’d been worrying all day about a message from Mike that might indicate they’d found Jake injured or dead. “We had a lot to do today, and your father would’ve wanted us to take care of things around here before worrying about him.” That part was completely true.

  The laptop chimed, indicating it had booted up, and Sara double-clicked the Cosmic Link icon on her desktop and watched as the solid connection was made.

  “Do you mind if I look?” Todd asked.

  “No, come on over.” Sara’s chest tightened as she angled the laptop to the side so her son could see. Todd brought his chair around and sat down, eyes eager for any information that might tell them what happened to Jake. Instead of browsing to the Mike Report or checking her email, Sara navigated to a mainstream news site for the sake of her son. They might have some bad news about the general state of things, and hopefully it wouldn’t be too detailed. He had a right to know what was going on, as much as she wanted to protect him from it.

  Sara’s fist clenched in her lap as they read through the headlines. Mainstream weather reports showed an increase of intense storm activity all along the east coast, and another powerful hurricane was angling toward the edge of Boston.

  “Those poor people,” Sara said in an awe-filled whisper.

  “Click on that link.” Todd pointed to a video report with a headline that read, “Rescue Crews Make Progress in Maine”.

  Sara clicked the video to show a female reporter standing next to an endless sea of white tents. People walked around in the remaining daylight, and soldiers walked among them with their rifles pointed at the ground. The reporter’s dark hair blew around her head as she leaned in toward the camera.

  “This is Cindy Shroke reporting for WLMA,” the reporter said in a loud voice. “With the help of the National Guard, FEMA, and other organizations, rescue teams have penetrated the outskirts of Boston and begun rescue efforts, digging people out of their homes and clearing the roads so trucks filled with much needed supplies can get where they need to go.”

  “Looks like they’re making some progress.” Todd sighed.

  “Yes, that’s great,” Sara said, feeling the tightness in her chest loosen a little. “But why do they need the National Guard? And why are they armed to the hilt?”

  “Looters, probably.”

  “Yes, although you’d think people would try to help each other instead of stealing from each other.”

  “You’d think,” Todd nodded in agreement, “but it doesn’t look that way.”

  “I’m sure some of them are trying to help,” Sara said in a hopeful tone that sounded forced. “Your father is helping people, you can believe that.”

  They sat in silence for a few seconds before Todd got up from his chair. “Can I watch a movie on my iPad? It’s already charged up, so I won’t need much juice.”

  “That’s fine,” Sara said. “I’ll turn off the generator in two hours. That’ll give you some juice while you’re watching. I’ll need it for my laptop, too.”

  “Awesome. Thanks, Mom. Good night.”

  “Night, son.”

  Sara watched Todd head upstairs before she squared her laptop in front of her and paused with her fingers over the mouse pad. There was a notification over her email icon that indicated she’d received a message. Her hand began to shake, and a strange feeling of dread crawled up her spine. Swallowing down her fear, Sara clicked on the email icon and saw a message from mikeroberts@mikereport.com. She opened it and started to read.

  Hi, Sara,

  Good to hear from you. It’s been a few months since we last corresponded. We appreciate the information you gave us on the events that transpired in Maryville, and that lines up with our suspicions that something more sinister is afoot than just the storms. Your location is noted. Let me know if you need help. We’ve got people in your area on standby.

  Sorry to hear about Jake, but we don’t have anyone in downtown Boston yet. It’s a tough area to begin with, made worse by the storms. We hope to have boots on the ground soon. If we hear anything about him, we’ll let you know.

  Stay in touch,

  Mike R.

  Sara’s heart sank with both relief and dread. It drove her crazy not knowing where Jake was or if he was in any trouble, but at least there were people out there trying to make a difference. Her connection with Mike suddenly seemed more important than ever, and she replied with a quick word of thanks and her assurance that she and her kids were okay for now.

  After hitting “Send,” Sara got up and poured herself some more coffee. There’d be no sleep for her tonight, so she thought she’d play a little music while she scoured the news sites for any information she could find that pointed to the whereabouts of her missing husband.

  Chapter 21

  Jake, Boston, Massachusetts | 7:45 p.m., Sunday

  Jake and Marcy sat slumped against each other in the dark, dismal cell, listening to the sounds of forklifts buzzing around the warehouse. The mechanic with the wife and child had requested a bathroom break an hour ago, and the guards had complied kindly enough. The rest of the people in the cell had adopted it as their temporary home, hanging clothes from bolts in the wall or fashioning makeshift beds from what little they had to work with.

  Jake and Marcy were still wet from walking around in the stormy weather all day, but neither of them had taken off their socks and shoes. They didn’t want to get too comfortable.

  “How long are they going to keep us here?” Marcy mumbled the question from where her head lay against Jake’s shoulder.

  “I don’t know,” Jake said. “They’ll probably run this operation all day and night, and they’ll try to move as much product as they can before law and order is restored. Could be a week or more.”

  “Great,” Marcy said, flatly, then she nodded to the former military woman named Blake who lay motionless and groaning on a jacket someone had spread out on the ground for her. “What’s wron
g with her?”

  “Let’s find out,” Jake said, and together they crawled across the cell to give Blake a closer look. The woman’s face was ashen, and her groans were weak. “Check her temperature.”

  Marcy put her hand to Blake’s forehead and drew it back with a shocked look.

  “What is it?” Jake asked.

  “She’s burning up.” Marcy put her hand back on the woman’s forehead and then felt her cheeks. “I mean, she’s really hot, Jake. Something’s not right.”

  Jake looked around for any sign of what was ailing the woman. He lifted her left arm and found nothing, then he lifted her right arm to discover a yellowed bandage on her tricep.

  “There it is,” Jake said, laying Blake’s arm across her chest to get a better look. He peeled back the bandage carefully and winced when a powerful stench wafted off the wound.

  “That’s a bad infection,” Marcy said as she leaned forward with a wrinkled nose that caused her glasses to slide down on her nose.

  “Yep, and the cut is deep,” Jake said once he’d gotten past the smell to have a closer look. It was a ragged little wound about three inches long and an inch wide. It looked like her arm might have gotten caught on something or struck with debris. The edges were puckered in irritation, and the cut oozed pus. “This needs to be cleaned right away. And she needs antibiotics, too.”

  Blake moaned as her eyes opened to look at Jake. She tried to say something, her lips barely moving and her eyes rolling upward as she fell unconscious once more.

  Jake stood and went over to the door, giving it a hard knock. “Hey, we’ve got a sick person in here. Need a little help.”

  There was a shuffle on the other side of the door before the latch slid free and the door rolled on its tracks a foot to the right. One of the guards looked Jake up and down from the hall, his rifle pointed toward the floor. He was a hefty guy Jake guessed to be around three hundred pounds, and his face was round and young-looking. “Someone throwing up or something?”

  “No, they’ve got an infection,” Jake said, impatiently. “She needs some antibiotics.”

  “I don’t think we’ve got any of those,” the hefty guy said, looking past Jake where Blake lay moaning on the jacket. “She looks bad, man.”

  “No kidding.” Jake leaned his upper body out of the door to emphasize his point. “She’s going to die if we don’t do something.”

  Hefty’s face twisted in sudden anger, and he punched out with a meaty fist, hitting Jake in the chest and knocking him back into the cell. Jake gasped and curled his hand into a fist, narrowing his eyes at the big man. The wind hadn’t been knocked out of him, but Hefty could throw a punch.

  “Don’t do that again,” the big guard said.

  “Need help over there, Luis?” the other guard asked.

  “It’s under control,” Luis said, staring at Jake, “but we’ve got someone in here who needs medical attention.”

  “Medical attention, huh?” the other guard asked with a questioning tone. “I’ll get Hawk.”

  Jake caught Luis’s scowl just before the door slid shut with a bang and the latch slammed down. Then he looked over at Marcy who returned his stare with an uncertain look in her eyes and a shake of her head. Jake took a deep breath and faced the door again as the footsteps of several people shuffled around on the other side.

  The latch came up, the door slid open, and Hawk’s pistol pushed through, pointing at Jake’s chest. Hands raised high, Jake backed away to the other side of the cell. He bumped into someone and turned his head to see Henry standing there with a flat expression.

  “Good boy,” Hawk said to Jake as he stepped into the cell with Raven in tow. He gave a hard look around the room. “We’ve got a report that someone needs medical attention.”

  “It’s Blake.” Jake nodded down where the woman moaned on the floor. “I think she’s got a bad infection. Her fever is high, and her bandage hasn’t been changed in a while.”

  “Is that so?” Hawk’s eyes fell to Blake, and he studied her a moment before he looked up at Jake with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Just so happens, the doctors are in. Raven, have a look.”

  “Okay.” Raven scooted past Hawk and knelt beside the sick woman. She felt her head for fever and then sniffed at the bandage, turning her head away when the scent hit her. “Jeesh, that’s ripe.”

  “Does she need medical attention?” Hawk asked.

  Raven stood up and dusted her hands together. “She does, Hawk. She needs it bad.”

  “All right, boys,” Hawk said, stepping out of the cell. “Get her up. Let’s take her to get some treatment.”

  Hefty Luis and the other guard entered the cell, lifted Blake off the floor by her arms, and dragged her outside.

  “Easy with her,” Jake said, stepping forward only to be greeted by Hawk’s gun pointed at him once more.

  “Don’t worry, buddy,” Hawk said with a widening grin. “She’ll get the treatment she needs. She’ll be right as rain in no time.”

  Hawk stepped out of the room, and Jake caught a glance of the woman waking up in the arms of the two guards. Once Blake realized what was happening, she struggled and kicked, but she was weak from the infection, and the two men were strong.

  “No…” Blake grunted and jerked, eyes wide and looking all around. “Wait, no!”

  Jake should have been relieved to see Blake get help, but his gut told him something was wrong. He stepped toward the door, thinking he could get Blake back, right as the door slammed shut and the latch banged down to lock it. No one in the cell spoke, but everyone’s eyes were on Jake. He looked over at Marcy, who only stared back with a fearful and confused expression.

  “What’s going on?” Jake turned to Henry, who looked at Jake like he’d just done the dumbest thing in the world. “Where are they taking her?”

  “I forgot to tell you that there’s no medical attention here.” Henry’s tone was flat and indignant. “And if you’re sick and can’t fulfill your purpose anymore—”

  A gunshot blasted out in the warehouse, causing Jake’s head to snap around. The cell went coldly silent but for the whirring and bumping of the forklifts, and Jake’s stomach squirmed as it dawned on him what had just happened. Heavy footfalls came toward them from down the hall, and Jake looked at Marcy who shook her head in wide-eyed denial, tears streaking down her face.

  The latch lifted, and someone jerked the door open. Hawk stuck his blood-specked face in and looked slowly over the entire group. “Anyone else need medical treatment?” Hawk asked with an overly pleasant smile that stretched across his face like a clown’s.

  Jake’s throat constricted with rage, and he fought with every ounce of strength he had to keep a scowl off his face. It was clear that Hawk wasn’t all there in the head, and any little thing could set him off. Or maybe he’d never been entirely sane, and the lawlessness in the city was just an excuse to let out his inner monster.

  Whatever the case, Jake didn’t want a bullet in the head just because he couldn’t control his temper. He shook his head and stared at Hawk with a deadpan expression.

  “No?” Hawk said, gesturing with his gun. “That’s great. Just let Luis know if you do, and we’ll come running. We can cure everything here. Broken bones, infections, and even cancer!” Hawk laughed, and Raven joined him with her high-pitched cackle.

  Hawk stepped back and slammed the door behind him, throwing the latch shut with a metallic clank.

  Chapter 22

  Sara, Gatlinburg, Tennessee | 6:35 a.m., Monday

  “Come on, Todd,” Sara said with a gentle knock on the doorframe of her son’s room. In the dawn light, she could see him splayed across his bed, covers bunched all around him and his feet sticking out one end. “Son, do you read me?”

  “Yes, Mother,” Todd said as he rolled over and peered up at the ceiling. His use of her long-form maternal title meant he was getting fed up with her, and that was a good thing. It would make it that much harder for him to fall back aslee
p if he was aggravated.

  She held her half-filled coffee cup up and waved it around. “Smell that? It’s the rich, fresh scent of instant coffee calling your name.”

  Todd groaned and put his pillow over his face.

  “Please be downstairs for breakfast in five,” Sara gave the command firmly, smiling as she did it. “We’ve got to get that window boarded up, and I want to get it done before it storms harder.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Todd said, his words muffled by the pillow. “I just want to wake up a little.”

  “I’ll have your coffee ready and waiting,” Sara sang as she turned away from the door and went downstairs.

  It wasn’t particularly cold inside the house, but the plastic-covered window had let in some of the chill. Sara had gotten a fire started first thing, and the flames now danced in the fireplace, radiating warm air. She plopped down in Jake’s recliner, holding her coffee cup on her knees and waiting for the caffeine to take hold. She’d slept six hours, but it was fitful and filled with worry about Jake. She’d told herself that there was nothing she could do for him, though that didn’t keep her mind from reeling with the possibility that he was trapped somewhere, or wounded and helpless. Sara had even briefly considered packing up the kids and heading east to one of the tent cities where they were attempting to feed and shelter the Boston survivors.

  However, news reports had continued to reaffirm how unstable the situation was in the tent cities, and she couldn’t justify putting her children in that kind of danger. No, she needed to trust Jake. Trust had always been the foundation of their relationship, and she didn’t intend on abandoning her faith in him. Jake would get back to them, come hell or high water.

  In the meantime, she’d just have to keep busy so she didn’t go insane.

  Todd came down the steps in a clomp of boots and shuffled his way into the kitchen to pour himself some coffee. Then he came over to the couch and sat down heavily. Sara looked up at her son. His light hair was slightly tousled, and she had a tough time telling if he’d styled it that way on purpose. It was hard to tell with kids and their modern hairstyles.