James took a deep breath and cut in. “Wouldn't you rather we find refuge at Larry's cabin and not some government camp?”
Her head suddenly dipped in response as she struggled to respond. “I don't know...”
James inched forward on the couch with concern. “Are you okay?”
She looked between them again as her eyes flickered and her voice became groggy. “Yeah... I'm fine. We can plan too...” She raised a finger and then leaned forward with a strange, wobbly posture. She pushed her tea cup off the table and slumped to the side, nearly falling off the chair. James rushed over to catch her, calling out her name. Her head bobbed and weaved as he held her up. “Marla!” he said, gently shaking her.
Larry suddenly intervened with an explanation. “She'll be fine. Now we've got about twenty minutes before she wakes up.”
James looked at him, enraged. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Larry held up a calming hand. “I'm sorry, James. It's only a mix of Dramamine, Nyquil, and some other choice ingredients.”
James rested her aside and shot up from the couch. “You fucking drugged her? Get the hell out of my house. Now!”
Larry folded his hands together and leaned forward, calm and collected. “I understand that you're angry, but it needed to be done.”
James’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You're sick. Now, get out of here!”
Larry stood up without another word. He and James stared each other down as military trucks began leaving from outside. Larry soon left the room, heading toward the garage. James lightly patted Marla's cheek to try to wake her up, but nothing worked. “Wait!” he called out.
Larry stopped at the door near the kitchen and turned around. James sensed an uncertainty in both their stances.
“How do I wake her up?” he asked.
“Some lemon juice should do the trick. Hold it to her nose, and she'll come to.”
“Lemon juice?” James said. “You really are crazy.” He rested her head against a pillow on the side. His anger began to subside as he thought of their options. Larry had acted recklessly and completely crossed the line, but he did have a point.
“When she comes to, I promise she won't know what happened,” Larry said from the doorway.
“That's not the point,” James said.
“Be that as it may, this is your last chance,” Larry said.
James glanced out the living room window, unable to make eye contact. The remaining trucks were filling fast.
“This is insane...” James said.
“I agree,” Larry said.
James turned from the window, irate. “I'm talking about you.”
“It's for her own good,” Larry said, matter of fact.
The gall in his tone nearly sent James over the edge, but he tried to not let his emotions get the best of him. “And you think that she's just going to wake up and forget about this? I'll have to tell her what happened?”
“Sounds like you're in,” Larry said. He motioned toward the door and then stopped as though he had more on his mind. “I'm a man of action. And sometimes that can be the difference between life and death.”
“Spare me your macho bullshit,” James said. “You should have told me about this first, just so I could have told you no.” He sat down next to Marla and brushed back her hair. She remained in a deep sleep, with no indication of when she'd come to.
Larry then stepped closer to him, confident in his manner. “She would have never agreed to come.”
“That doesn't give you the right--”
“I took a chance,” he said, cutting James off.
James glanced back outside where only one truck remained with a sizable crowd around it. People began shoving as soldiers split them into separate groups. James watched the growing unrest as three options came to mind. He could wait for the later pickup, he could take Marla with Larry, or they could stay at the house and do nothing. He gently moved Marla to the side and rose from the couch, thinking.
“We'll go,” he said under his breath.
Larry entered the garage and stopped. “What's that?”
James looked at Marla and took a deep breath. “I said that we'll go!”
Larry gave him a slight nod. “Pack what you can, but remember that space is limited.”
James nodded and then glanced around the living room, overwhelmed with options. He rushed to the bedroom down the hall and pulled a bag of luggage from their closet and tossed it on the bed. After lighting two candles on top of their dresser, he began fishing out Marla's clothes from drawers and the closet, packing the suitcase with as much clothes as he could fit. By the time she woke up, they'd be on the road.
He grabbed a bag of items from their bathroom and stuffed the suitcase to the brim. The time was now. No matter how much he packed or thought about it, he knew that he'd forget something they need. Marla was always better at that kind of thing, but James would have to do it on his own. He grabbed the suitcase, blew out the candles, and left the room. Fortunately, his luggage was still packed for his week getaway.
Marla was still lying on the couch, undisturbed. The trucks outside began to drive off in a rumbling convoy, continuing past his house. James went to the window and watched as the last truck passed his house. Several residents still lingered on the street, having been left behind for the next supposed pickup. As the convoy faded in the distance, James closed the blinds and backed away, calling out to Larry.
“Why not follow them and see where they're going?”
“My cabin is the priority,” Larry said from the garage.
James looked at his unconscious wife as his doubts about the plan returned. Larry's car doors slammed shut, bringing him back to reality. He then moved quickly around the house and did a sweep of all the windows and doors, making sure everything was locked and all the blinds were shut. Leaving home for an undetermined period was unsettling enough, especially when leaving all their possessions behind. If Larry was correct, looting would become rampant within a week of the blackout, possibly sooner.
James then returned to their bedroom and went straight to the closet, carrying one of Larry's working LED lanterns. Above it was a combination safe mounted within a shelf. He carefully turned the knob three times left, right, and then left again, successfully opening it. Inside was his pistol case with ammunition, five thousand dollars cash in a sealed envelope, and their passports. It was their emergency safe, James’s idea mostly. He didn't even know if Marla knew the combination.
He took everything out and placed it inside his backpack. Leaving the room, he closed the door behind him and went to Marla. Larry suddenly entered the room right in time to help. They lifted and carried her to the car where there was room in the back. One glance into the chock-full station wagon and James saw that their space was limited. He placed a pillow under her head and a blanket from the house over her. After strapping her in, James then returned to the house to grab their bags and hurry to the idling car where Larry sat at the wheel.
He had mentioned a fuel stop along the way, delegating the duty to James. In the back sat a five-gallon gas can, hose, and funnel. He was meant to siphon it, something James had never done and wasn't looking forward to. He opened the garage door for the last time in a while, revealing the darkened neighborhood street beyond their driveway. He could see the silhouettes of people up and down the street, standing outside their homes.
He could feel their eyes upon him. Larry revved the engine as if telling him to hurry. James moved out of the way as the wagon hastily backed up down the driveway. James pulled down the garage door and locked it. The house, as he knew it, was secure. He ran to the wagon with its headlights off and engine running. He heard his name from afar from one of his neighbors but ignored him as he slipped inside, closed his door, and strapped in. The car shot back in reverse. The headlights switched on, beaming down the street and revealing at least ten people standing along the road.
Larry shifted into Drive and pressed the gas
. Some instinctively moved or jumped aside as the car tore down the road. James told him to slow down, but it made no difference. They reached a stop sign when Larry suddenly braked, tires skidding across the pavement.
“Whew!” he said to James with a smile. “That was intense.”
James nodded in response and then glanced in the back to see Marla slipping under her quilt. He wondered if he had made the right call. He wondered how much he could trust Larry. The decision had been his and his alone.
The wagon continued down another quiet residential road, where every home was as dark as the night sky. Not a single street light lit their path. The highway wasn't too far off. They'd be heading north to forest park, roughly fifty miles away. With any luck, they'd get there in one piece. By dawn, James would know if he had made the right choice. The road raced passed them on both sides, each home looking deserted along the way.
Fuel Stop
Marla woke, unsure of where she was or how she got there. She was sitting in the back seat of Larry's station wagon with plastic bins and boxes packed into the space next to her. She'd been well-attended with a pillow, blanket, and bottled water left at her side. For a moment, she sat and listened, not letting Larry or James know she had awoke. She glanced out the window and watched as they zipped past several cars on the side of the road. In one moment, everything began to come back to her: the massive blackout across St. Louis, the explosions downtown, barely making it home, and the evacuation of their neighborhood. Only she didn't know why she was in Larry's wagon again. The thought of mass casualties, untold numbers perishing, brought tears to her eyes.
In the time she had been awake, Larry and James hadn't said much to each other than the occasional quip about the stuck vehicles or people walking on the road. Every so often Larry swerved left or right, narrowly missing one obstruction or the other.
“In about ten minutes, we stop,” Larry said. James groaned with displeasure as Larry laughed. “Don't worry. There's nothing to it. I'll even give you a breath mint after.”
“Very thoughtful of you,” James said with thick sarcasm.
“Come on. You were an army mechanic once, right? What's the big deal?”
“That doesn't mean that I've sucked fuel through a hose before.”
“I'm just messing with you,” Larry said with another chuckle.
Marla wasn't sure what time it was or how much time had passed. The day played over in her head, from the morning she left the house. She had gone to work and then left with Raul and Dean in the news van. They were at City Hall when the first explosion happened. James had found her, but his car no longer worked. Larry had driven them home. He told them about his cabin. Marla suddenly stopped there. The damn cabin. She hadn't agreed to any of it. What had they done to her?
“How's she doing back there?” Larry asked James, glancing in his rear-view mirror. There was enough shadow concealing her to where she couldn't be seen.
“I'm fine. Where are we going?” she said in a groggy voice, immediately quieting the car.
James spun around in his seat, wide-eyed. “M-Marla. You're awake.”
She pulled the quilt off her in anger. “Yes. How did I get here?”
James stammered with an explanation all his own. “Y-You must have passed out.”
“For how long?” she asked, leaning forward.
Larry and James exchanged glances as Larry then answered. “About an hour now. Maybe two.”
“Is that so?” she said, leaning back in her seat. She looked out the window as they passed a traffic sign for Riverview and Glasgow village, north of St. Louis. They were headed north. “And where are we going? Larry's cabin?” An uncomfortable silence followed, and she knew she had them in a spot.
“You, uh. You gave us quite a scare,” James nervously said.
She felt too tired and disoriented to shout, despite her growing anger. Instead, she sounded as calm as she could. “Larry, could you pull over, please? I need to... um, go.”
He glanced back toward her with skepticism. “Give me a minute. Just looking for a good place to stop.”
“Fair enough,” she said, looking out the window. James turned around and smiled, but she ignored him. She could barely bring herself to look at him. He awkwardly returned his attention to the front as they continued on down the interstate. Moments later, Larry steered the car to the side of the road and stopped. He left the car running and turned off the headlights. There seemed to be no one else around in the darkness. She did see some cars and trucks parked along the road, but they looked abandoned. Most traffic had largely thinned out from when they left the city.
Larry looked at James. “You ready? We're at a quarter of a tank.”
James sighed and grabbed the empty fuel can. “I guess so. Might as well.” He opened his door and stepped outside. Marla followed and felt a cool breeze in the air. She leaned against the car for a moment and stretched. James was already walking off toward two cars in the distance. She hurried after him, stunned by the largely empty highway on both sides.
“I want to talk to you, James,” she said. He slowed but wouldn't turn around. She grabbed his arm once catching up to him. “What the hell are we doing here?”
“I've got to get fuel!” he said, dropping the can.
She gripped his hand inside both of hers. “Tell me what's going on. Why are we with Larry?”
“You passed out,” he said, repeating his claim from before. Though it still made little sense. There was much more to it than that, she suspected.
“That doesn't explain anything.” She then paused and got closer his face. “I never agreed to this.”
James spun around his arms out. “Look around you. Does that answer your question?”
Marla backed away, expressing clear disappointment in her demeanor. “This isn't right. You're hiding something from me.”
James sighed and then picked up the gas can. “It was my call. I knew you'd be upset, but I'm only trying to keep us safe.”
Marla lowered her head, wiping a tear away. His betrayal, if that's what it was, stung throughout her entire body. Before she could respond, he turned and walked toward a car parked on the side of the road. It looked just like her Camry, except it was silver and not blue. “The army trucks pulled up down our street,” he continued, kneeling beside the car. “They filled up quick. I had to decide, Marla. They were evacuating our neighborhood. They said another attack is imminent.”
She massaged her forehead, trying to remember the lead-up to her passing out, but it was all a blur. “Why stop at this cabin?” she asked instead. “I'm sure there's somewhere that has power. We just have to keep driving.”
James shook his head and opened the fuel tank. “We don't know who has or hasn't been hit. We don't know if the next attack is going to be worse. We don't know a thing.”
With one sharp swing of her leg, Marla kicked the gas can, sending it tumbling away. James jerked his head up, stunned. Marla leaned against the car, taking a deep breath. She then apologized and slouched against the car as James retrieved the can without a word. James unscrewed the gas cap and set it on the road. “This is only temporary. I promise.”
“You don't know that,” she said. They stood quiet for a moment, under the night sky in the isolated, darkened highway where no artificial lights existed around them. Marla then walked past him, saying nothing. As she continued down the street, the autumn breeze gave her a chill. Soon it would be winter, and the freezing temperatures were nothing to take lightly.
She stopped and stared into the sky, hoping to see a plane or any kind of aircraft that would let them know that they hadn't been left behind like the empty vehicles that littered the road. Sensing that she had nowhere else to go, Marla turned around and headed back toward the station wagon. She stopped at the Camry as James stuck the clear plastic tube into the tank slot.
He glanced up at her with a smile. She couldn't help but smile back. “Well... here goes nothing.”
Marla glanced
at Larry's station wagon idling ahead. He was standing outside, stretching. She hadn't quite made her mind up about the man. Part of her felt greatly indebted to his generosity. Another part of her loathed him. Her attention returned to James as he hesitated with the hose near his mouth.
She then knelt next to him, feeling a moment of pity. “Need a count off?”
“Sure,” he said with a shrug.
“Okay. One...” she began as James took another deep breath. “Two...” Her eyes then shifted past the back window to the front where the driver's side door swung open. At first Marla couldn't tell what she was seeing. Either the door had come open on its own accord or someone had been there all along. A man rushed out of the car toward them, shouting. Marla backed away as James dropped the tube and threw both hands in the air.
“Not another move!” the man shouted. He had something in his hand, pointed at the side of James's head. He looked somewhat young, early thirties or so. He had on an untucked dress shirt with its collar open and shirt hanging over his slacks. He looked panicked and jittery, desperate and confused.
“It's okay,” Marla assured him. “We'll just be on our way.”
The man examined James and the fuel can below, putting the pieces together. “You... you're trying to steal my gas? Is that it?”
“No,” Marla began. “We--”
James suddenly cut her off. “We thought it had been abandoned.”
“You thought what?” the man said. “I was just taking a nap. Is that alright with you?” His eyes were exhausted and frantic. His index finger stroked the trigger of his pistol as though it could off at any second.
James nodded as his body remained perfectly still. Marla stood at the rear of the car, trying to mask her fear.
“This is all a misunderstanding,” she said with a hand out. “No harm done, right?”
James took her hand and rose as the man thrust his pistol into the back of his head. James froze. Marla stepped away, trembling.
“Don't fucking move,” the man said. “Last warning.” He ran a head through his thick, disheveled hair and looked at them with tired but manic eyes. “What do you need fuel for anyway?” he continued. “Every car around here just stopped. Mine stopped about twelve hours ago. On my way to Springfield, Illinois for a convention.” He paused for a moment with near-delirious laughter. “Guess I'll be missing that one.”
Hideaway (Book 1): An EMP Thriller Page 4