by Kyle Pratt
Amy followed him. “But there’s a fire! How can you get the gas out? What about the owners? The fire is growing.”
“I’ll be careful.” He passed the pistol to Amy. “Keep watch.”
Amy held the weapon with two fingers as Ryan hurried to the SUV. Both airbags had deployed and an empty booster seat remained in the vehicle, but no people where inside or lingering nearby. The driver and any passengers had either walked away or been taken by an ambulance.
A fire engine and sheriff’s deputy might arrive soon. He hesitated. This felt like a reversal of the encounter last night, only now he would be the one stealing gas.
Amy stepped closer. “The flames are spreading. We need to leave.”
Fire engulfed the pickup engine and flaming droplets fell to the pavement igniting the oil along the pavement.
He needed to act or the flames would take the opportunity from him. He dropped to his knees and slid under the SUV.
“What are you doing?” Amy shouted.
Oil dripped from engine.
Ryan coughed as he fumbled in the tool bag for a screwdriver. He slammed it against the gas tank. It left a dent but didn’t penetrate. He stabbed at it again and again making only minimal progress. Searching with his hand in the bag he found a hammer. The tight space under the auto provided little room to swing the tool, but he did the best he could and, after several strikes the precious fuel flowed onto the pavement. He quickly pressed his thumb to the hole and with the other hand searched for one of the containers. Tiny rivulets of gasoline ran down his hand and wrist before he found the thermos.
“Don’t use that!” Amy knelt and grabbed the thermos from him. “This plan is crazy enough without you ruining a perfectly good thermos.”
Ryan found the water bottle. “I need something more than this little thing.”
“Start with that.” Amy stood.
As Ryan filled the bottle he heard Amy open the passenger door of the SUV. Dark liquid splashed to the pavement. “What are you doing? I’ve filled the water bottle.” He pressed his finger back to the hole.
Amy knelt again. “Here, use this.” She passed him an empty two-liter cola bottle.
He took it and passed her the fuel.
She quickly returned with the empty smaller bottle.
The flames warmed Ryan’s side as they crept closer. Sweat rolled into his eyes and he gagged on the noxious smoke as he finished filling the larger container and passed it to her.
When she returned, they again switched bottles, but this time as he filled the two-liter bottle the flow faded to a dribble. With it only half-full, he remained, collecting the last precious drops.
Amy knelt low and watched. “Pass me the bottle.” She reached out with her arm. “It’s not worth it.”
His hands smelled like gas and the flames had inched closer. When a fiery whoosh erupted from the pickup, he scrambled out from under the SUV and ran back to the Jeep.
As Ryan poured the last of the fuel into his vehicle, a pickup screeched to a stop nearby. A broad-shouldered man wearing overalls and a ball cap leapt from the vehicle and ran toward him. In his hand he clutched a baseball bat.
Chapter 8
Every muscle in Ryan’s body tensed. He slapped at his belt in a near panic search for his pistol. Amy had it and she stood frozen several feet away. Before Ryan could act, the man closed most the distance between them.
“Is anyone still inside?” the man with the bat asked.
“Huh?” The word stumbled from Ryan’s mouth.
“Is anyone hurt?” The man hurried past Ryan and stopped mere inches from the flames that now engulfed the pickup and the engine of the SUV. “Did they get out?”
“Ah … the vehicles were empty when we arrived.”
“Please God, let them be okay.” With his arm held up as if to hold back the flames, the big man sighed. “That’s my daughter’s car.”
Amy drew in an audible breath, relaxed her statue-like stance and joined them. “I’m sorry to hear that.” She stepped closer. “I’m sure they’re all right.”
Ryan nodded agreement. “What’s the bat for?”
“If need be, to break a car window.”
“Of course.” Ryan forced a smile, thrust out his hand and introduced himself and Amy. “I did check both vehicles. No one was inside.”
“Thank God.” The man wiped sweat from his brow. “I’m Don Anders.”
Ryan felt conflicted about taking the gas and wanted to confess to the man and offer to pay. “I should tell you—”
“Thanks for stopping and checking. I gotta find my daughter and grandson.” Then he turned and jogged to the nearby pickup.
As Don drove away, Ryan turned to Amy. “Let’s get going.”
She nodded and handed him the pistol.
Ryan wiped his hands on an old gray cloth from the Jeep and tossed it at the SUV. The rag fell near where he had lain and quickly burst into flames. The thought of him bursting into flame raced through his mind. His shook his head and rushed into the Jeep.
The needle of the fuel gauge surged to near the half-full mark right after Ryan started the vehicle.
“Is that enough?” Amy asked.
Ryan grinned. “It’ll be close.” He shifted into drive and merged back onto the freeway. Moments later he sniffed at his hand and arm. “I smell like gas.”
Amy opened the window beside her. “Yeah, you sure do.”
Fumes irritated his nose and brought back the image of the burning rag. How close had he come to dying underneath that SUV? As he continued to drive, the fuel smell waned somewhat, and his hunger grew. But despite his growling stomach he didn’t want to stop. Only when they approached the Sprague Lake Rest Area did he consider it. Pointing to the sign, he asked, “Do you want to pull in there and eat some lunch?” Ryan smelled one hand. “And maybe I can wash the gas off.”
“Sure.” Amy stared out the side window. “And I’d like a real bathroom.”
He exited the freeway and drove into the rest area where cars and trucks of every size and color filled most of the spaces. People wandered through the area or clustered around the buildings and picnic areas that now looked more like campsites. While it appeared busy no one stood out as a threat. When a vehicle pulled out of a space near the restrooms, he quickly parked the Jeep.
Amy stepped from the jeep and turned slowly around. A faint breeze drifted across the fields and through nearby trees. The scent of pine, dry grass and hay hung in the air. “I lived all my life in New York City and when I enrolled at UW, I spent most of my time in Seattle. This side of the mountains is different … so rural and pretty.”
“Yeah, it is.” Ryan followed her gaze. “I guess living here, I forget just how nice it is. Except for the rattlesnakes; you need to watch out for them.”
“Rattlesnakes?” She glanced at her feet. “Really?”
“Yeah, out hiking and camping.” He grinned. “Not so much around here.” He tossed her the toilet paper. “You may need this.”
She caught it and hurried away.
While he waited for her to return, he munched on an energy bar and viewed the clusters of people. Families had erected about a dozen colorful tents on the edge of the area. A more diverse crowd clustered near the buildings. Some were families, a few were military, while others looked like farmers, field workers, or local hicks, but most appeared to be an average, but eclectic, group of individuals thrown together by events.
After what seemed a long time, Ryan spotted Amy walking along the sidewalk toward the Jeep with a stone face and narrow, angry eyes.
“What’s wrong?”
“There was a line like at a sporting event and the place is a filthy, stinking mess. The air dryer is broken, there are no paper towels, and I’m really glad I brought this.” She held up the toilet paper.
Ryan laughed, grabbed a fresh shirt from his backpack, and tossed it over one shoulder. As he strode across the street, a state patrol cruiser appeared from around the corner. On
e of the two officers in the vehicle gave Ryan a long stare as it eased past. By the time he crossed the pavement, another patrol car drove into view. They were looking for something, or someone; whatever that might be it didn’t concern him.
A crowd lingered near the rest area buildings. As he passed the women’s room several girls exited. While it might be busy, none seemed angry or to be holding their breath.
However, in the men’s room the air hung dank and putrid. All the toilets and urinals were occupied, with several men waiting, but the sinks remained unused and there were ample paper towels.
Ryan decided to scrub the gas from his arms while he waited. As more men packed into the room, he took off his shirt, washed it, and put on the one he had brought with him. Feeling as clean as he could in the foul space, he moved to the makeshift line and completed his restroom mission.
Ryan took a deep breath of clean air before the restroom door closed behind him. As he inhaled a second breath, he noticed that almost everyone had clustered on the far side of the plaza. As a man approached, he asked, “What’s going on over there?”
“The police are warning about people stealing gas and looting.”
Ryan’s gut wrenched. Had Don reported the accident and Ryan stealing the gas? No, he had been worried about his daughter and grandchild, not the car. Still, how many had seen him under the SUV filling the bottles? He took several steps nearer to the group and noticed Amy beside the Jeep talking with a police officer. Feeling like a condemned man, Ryan changed direction toward her and the officer. He sniffed his arm and wet shirt. At least he no longer reeked of fumes.
Amy smiled as he neared. “Hey, I’m glad you’re back. Officer Jackson was just telling me about people stealing gas.”
“Hi, I’m Ryan Palmer.” He thrust out his hand and tried to sound friendly and innocent. “You mean like from abandoned cars?”
“Well, no.” The patrol officer grinned. “Those vehicles are usually out of fuel. We’re looking for a gang that hijacked a tanker truck just east of Spokane this morning.”
“Oh.” Ryan struggled to not appear relieved. “Well, I guess that would be easy to spot.”
“They’ve probably hidden it, but we’ll find them.”
After a few moments of conversation, the officer smiled at Amy. “I’ll notify someone about uncleanliness of the women’s restroom, but right now I have to get back to catching criminals.” With a nod of the head, he moved on.
Ryan took in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
“Were you worried they were after you?” Amy giggled and squeezed his hand. “You were very brave and did nothing wrong.”
Ryan sighed. “Let’s eat and get out of here.”
Amy nodded agreement.
As they pulled back onto the freeway heading east, a long line of military trunks and tankers roared by heading west.
Chapter 9
Soon after, Ryan passed the exit for the Spokane airport and only a few minutes later reached the city. As the day progressed, they had made better time due to the thinning traffic, but the fuel gauge continued its relentless decline toward empty.
There were moments as he drove when he couldn’t see another car on the freeway. Were people being ordered off the streets? They hadn’t seen an open gas station since leaving Seattle. Had fuel become impossible to buy? He considered leaving the freeway and searching for gas in Spokane, but rejected that idea. They could hike the last few miles home if necessary.
Ryan’s thoughts turned to his brother. Could he still be alive? For the first time in hours, he wanted to know the news and so, switched on the radio.
“… passed the declaration of war just over one hour ago. Heavy fighting continues in the Taiwan Strait and on the Korean …”
His thoughts traced the route home. Visions of the house and his mother flashed through his mind. It had been ages since he wanted to be there.
As the news continued, Amy opened two bottles of water. “This one’s for you,” she said placing one in the holder between them.
“… Lewis in Kiev reports that Russian forces have crossed the eastern Ukraine border. For more on the situation in Europe we have retired Ambassador Hugh Thorne on the line.”
Amy dropped her bottle into the holder, grabbed her purse, and dug into it.
The newscaster continued. “Sir, as a former NATO ambassador, how do you see the current situation?”
Thorne cleared his throat. “I’ve been informed that due to the North Korean nuclear attack on Honolulu, NATO has already invoked article five regarding collective defense. If the Russian forces continue west, beyond Ukraine, that would also be a NATO matter.”
“Why is that?” the announcer asked.
“The NATO countries of Poland, Slovakia, Hungary and Romania all border the Ukraine.” Thorne cleared his throat. “Due to the threat of Russian invasion, the military forces of those countries are already on high alert.”
“Do you believe that is likely?” the announcer asked.
Only silence issued from the radio for a long moment, and then Thorne answered with a solemn voice. “I believe we’re witnessing the start of the third world war,”
“Yes!” Amy shouted.
Startled, Ryan swerved the jeep into the next lane.
One of the few drivers on the road blared their horn and swerved as they passed.
Ryan gave Amy several sideways glances. Her face beamed with delight as she stared at her phone. “Why are you so happy?”
“Oh, sorry. When the news announcer said they had someone on the phone I thought to check mine.” She smiled. “My mom received my text. She knows I’m with you and says she and Dad are okay.”
“Could you check my phone.” Ryan passed it to her.
Her face slumped. “Sorry, nothing.”
“It’s okay.” He forced an indifferent tone to his voice, but in truth, he felt disappointment and that surprised him. After high school, he had been ready, even anxious, to leave home. The farther away, the better he liked it. His father had wanted Ryan to follow in his brother’s footsteps and apply to the Naval Academy. Maryland would have been far enough away, but the thought of years in the military didn’t suit him. The University of Washington had served as a compromise, sufficiently rigorous enough for his dad, close enough for Mom, and far enough away for Ryan.
He had often missed his mother, but rarely his father. Now he wanted to reach home and know that both of his parents were okay.
Both of their phones buzzed at the same time. Amy held one in each hand. Her head swiveled from one to the other.
“What?” Ryan asked.
Amy turned Ryan’s phone toward him. The text on the screen read, “Ballistic missile strike is imminent. Take immediate cover. This is not a drill.”
“Do they mean here in Spokane?” Amy’s stared at him with eyes full of fear. “Maybe whoever sends these messages thinks we’re still in Seattle?”
“I don’t know.” Ryan pressed the gas pedal.
“Are there any targets near Spokane?”
“We passed Fairchild Air Force Base a few minutes ago and Spokane might be hit.”
Amy leaned against the passenger window and stared out. “How long until we reach your parent’s home?”
“About two hours.”
The litany of war news ended mid-sentence as the sine wave attention signal blared again from the radio.
“This is an emergency action notification.” The computer voice reiterated the warning of a missile strike.
“Should we find a shelter?” Amy asked.
“If they hit Spokane it won’t matter. I’d rather die trying to get home, then huddled in some building waiting for the end.”
Amy nodded, bowed her head, and closed her eyes.
“News radio Spokane will stay on the air to provide war information to Eastern Washington,” a serious voice proclaimed. “Oh … okay. Here is the latest from our correspondent in the nation’s capital.”
“I’m stan
ding just outside of the Pentagon which is being evacuated as I speak. The President, his cabinet, Congress and the joint chiefs of staff have already been move—.”
Silence enveloped the jeep and radio for several moments.
“We seem to have lost our Washington correspondent,” the announcer said. “Here is the latest war news we—.”
Ryan clicked off the radio. No, your Washington correspondent is dead.
Amy tapped on her phone and then stared at it in silence.
Minutes later Ryan pointed to the ‘Welcome to Idaho’ sign. “Almost there.”
Amy nodded weakly.
But how much fuel did they have? Ryan took a quick look. The needle registered less than a quarter tank of gas.
They continued along a nearly empty freeway until they neared Coeur d’Alene. Just west of the city, Ryan exited the freeway and headed north. With each mile, the buildings dwindled until forests and pastures dominated the landscape.
Amy drank the last from her water bottle. “Do you think they’re okay? My parents, I mean.”
Ryan felt sure that New York had been hit, but that wasn’t what Amy needed to hear right now. He stumbled for the right words. “I hope they’re okay. They would be glad you’re away from the big cities.”
“Yes.” She stared out the window for several moments. In a soft voice she continued. “This is such a beautiful, peaceful place.”
“Beautiful, yes.” Ryan nodded. “Sometimes I forget.” He stopped there not wanting to say more. He loved his father, but he wouldn’t describe their relationship as peaceful. That tension had driven him to explore the forest and eventually to leave it and move to Seattle.
He glanced down at the fuel gauge now resting on empty. A mile later he turned onto a side road and pressed the pedal as the road wrapped around and up a hill.
The engine sputtered.
“Will we make it to your house?” Amy asked.