“We don't want any trouble,” James began, careful not to make any sudden movements.
“You never answered my question,” he said, jabbing the pistol into James's back. “Why are you stealing fuel?” He hadn't seemed to notice or hear the distant idling of the station wagon as the sound blended with the increasing breeze. But James knew it wouldn't take him long to make the next connection.
“We're stranded. Just like you,” James said, hoping to stall. “I thought maybe a full tank of gas would help.”
The man repeatedly jabbing the pistol against James. “I don't know what the hell's going on, but I'm not leaving my car. I'm going to wait until cell phone service returns, and I'm going to call AAA.” He went through his list of priorities like he was reading them to himself.
“That's not going to happen anytime soon,” James said.
“Oh yeah?” the man said with wild eyes. “What makes you the authority?”
James slightly turned his head back as his hands remained in the air. “We think it was an electromagnetic pulse. An aerial EMP or something like that.”
The man lowered his pistol, skeptical. “Is that so?”
“Just one of many theories,” James say, inching away. “We apologize for the inconvenience.”
“Shut up!” the man said, jabbing him for the umpteenth time. “Where are you off to? What's the hurry?”
Marla glanced toward the station wagon and saw the metallic glimmer of something in the distance. Suddenly, a blaring shot rang out through the air, shattering one of the man's windows clean out. She screamed and hit the ground, flat on her stomach. She looked over and saw James wrestling the man for his gun, rolling around on the pavement.
They shouted at each other with grunts in between. Then came a swift right hook into the man's jaw, stunning him. He released the pistol immediately and held his face in pain. James backed up and rose to his feet, aiming the pistol downward and not taking any chances.
“You stay right there,” he commanded. “Don't make a move.”
The man rolled to his side, grunting and holding his face. James extended his leg and quickly pushed the gas can toward Marla with his foot. “We'll find another car.”
The man had managed to sit up and continued to hold his face. He glanced up at them both with sheer contempt. “Okay. Where'd that shot come from? He pointed to his shattered passenger window and looked around as James did the same.
Marla scanned the darkness near the station wagon as Larry soon entered their field of vision, holding a hunting rifle. “You're awful lucky, my friend,” he said to the man upon approach. “I was aiming at your head.”
The man squinted ahead, confused. “Who the hell are you people?”
Larry approached James and lowered his rifle. “Something is off with the rear aperture. I'll have to look at that it when we get to the cabin.”
Incensed, Marla smacked him on the shoulder. “Are you crazy? You could have shot one of us.”
“Impossible,” Larry said. “And besides, you two looked like you needed help.”
The man leaned back on his elbows. “You want my fuel? Fine. Take it and get out of here.”
Larry responded with a swift kick of his boot into the man's side. Marla gasped as the man curled up, grunting in pain, and told Larry to back off.
Larry tapped the fuel can with the barrel of his rifle. “You heard the man. Let's go.”
James nodded and repositioned himself eye-level with the gas tank. He slipped the plastic tube into the tank, took a deep breath, and then sucked on the end until fuel finally passed through and into his mouth. He yanked the tube away, spitting out a mouthful onto the ground, and then held the end of the flowing tube inside the can like a wet spigot.
The man remained on the ground, submissive as Larry kept his rifle aimed at him. In his confused state, he looked around and finally noticed their idling station wagon ahead.
“Holy shit,” he said with an astonished look. “Your car runs?” His eyes shot upward to Larry.
“Congratulations,” Larry said, turning away. “You've solved the case.”
The man then made a desperate plea to come along that was met with silence.
Marla's eyes shifted to James and then Larry. She knew what their answer would be, but the guilt of leaving a man stranded on the highway was sure to haunt her. She began to argue for him. “We can't leave him here,” she said with conviction.
“There's no room,” Larry said, assuming the matter decided.
Marla looked to James, but his attention was focused on the steadily filling gas can.
“Come on,” the man continued. “You can drop me off anywhere else.”
“No,” Larry said, walking away.
James pulled the tube away from the full gas can as it dripped onto the pavement.
“We can't just leave him here,” Marla said, following Larry.
Silence followed as Larry looked from the man to Marla and back again. “There's no room, for the hundredth time.” He then walked away without another word. Marla watched him, in awe of his callousness. Once he made it back to the vehicle, Larry called for James to bring the fuel can and get moving.
James rose to his feet and walked over. “Come on.” He took her hand and led her along as the man crawled after them, pushing himself up.
“I have a wife and two boys.”
Marla wanted to help but felt powerless against the rising tide of indifference. Perhaps she was just being naive. The man followed them with an increasingly frantic tone. “Just a ride into town. Please!”
Larry spun around and aimed his rifle again at the man. “Keep your distance.”
The man halted and folded his hands together, begging Larry to reconsider but receiving no answer in return. James guided Marla to the other side of that wagon and opened the passenger door.
“It won't be too much longer,” he said.
Marla opened her mouth to speak as he cut her off.
“Just give him a chance, okay? It could be our safest option.”
She glanced at the man standing in the road, calling out to them as Larry sat in the driver's seat and closed the door. It could easily be her asking for a ride. James helped her into her seat for a hasty departure. He looked down and noticed the hole in her jeans and scrapes on her knees.
“You're bleeding.”
“I'm fine,” she said, shrugging it off.
“Hurry up!” Larry said from behind the wheel.
James studied her for a moment, looking for any other cuts, and then kissed her forehead. His attention returned to the stranded man as he called out for James.
“At least give me my gun back. How about it?”
James watched the man across the way, contemplating the request. Or course, if they returned his pistol, the man might try to use it in retaliation. During the tense awkward silence that followed, James made his mind.
“I'll return your gun,” he said. “But don't try anything you might regret.”
Larry cut in with his predictable take. “Don't be stupid, James. We need all the weapons we can get.”
But this time, James didn't listen. He ejected the magazine and tossed the pistol into the grass. The magazine soon followed in the opposite direction. “There you go,” he told the man. “Good luck.” He quickly got inside and sat, slamming the door on his side.
They drove past the man, leaving him in the distance. Marla turned and looked out the back window and saw him run to the side of the road to retrieve his gun. He soon faded from view and they continued without words being spoken, only the growl of the engine as their speed increased through the open road. Marla was lost in her own thoughts and barely noticed James trying to hand her two Aspirin tablets. She glanced down and grabbed them, drinking both with a bottled water.
“Are you doing okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. Sure,” she said, turning to the window. A great open field passed by under the moonlight. They were a mere twenty miles from the s
tate line. Somewhere along the way was Larry's cabin, supposedly tucked within the wilderness and impenetrable to attack.
If she believed half of it, she'd be at ease. She tried to not think of the man they left behind. She told herself that they weren't bad people, and that they would have helped the man out if the circumstances were different. She stared outside the window at a passing field, uncertain about what lay ahead. If only she could sleep again and wake up somewhere else. Anywhere but the station wagon.
Arrival
They soon reached rural Missouri after an hour on the road. At a normal highway speed, the trip wouldn't have taken near as long, but they had hazards to consider and Larry had to drive cautiously. The inside of the wagon reeked of gas fumes from the can. Their headlights beamed down an empty two-lane road surrounded by black forest. The rustic landscape was a welcome change to the city they had fled. James was confident he had made the right decision, even with Marla not speaking to him. Like her, he had concerns for his family and friends, especially those who lived nearby.
Larry drove fast and steady, nearing their destination, he explained, in a few miles. He also told them to be ready for some off-road driving. But once they got to the cabin, he assured them that they'd rest easy at least for the night. Back home, things weren't so pleasant. An untold amount of people were dead or injured, from the building explosion to the chaos that followed. And there was no way to find out what was happening, no phones or Internet to stay informed. Larry's wagon didn't even have a radio. James was going through cell phone withdrawals of his own. Being cut off from the world was agonizing, but they were alive and for the time being, safe.
James considered their long-term options. Marla would only tolerate the cabin for so long, if at all. Larry had a crank-operated emergency radio that had worked off and on throughout the day. The news it brought them was deeply troubling. Blackouts had spread throughout multiple states. The EMP attacks were hardly exclusive to St. Louis. It was happening all around them, but James didn't want to believe it. No country would dare attack the United States in such a manner. The very idea was absurd.
They drove up a steep hill and continued past a wooden sign barely legible in the darkness. James could see faded white letters that said Willow Creek. He expected Larry to swerve to the right and take them off road at any moment, but they just continued up and down various hills as the pavement became less stable.
They passed open fields, lakes, and thick forest. Large mountainous structures could be seen in the distance as shadows. The outside breeze felt good against James's face. He closed his eyes, rocking his head to the side, trying to clear his mind of uncertainties, of which he had many. He turned around to check on Marla. Her head was turned toward the window in a blank stare.
“How are you doing?” he asked.
Her eyes slowly shifted toward him. “Fine.” But her short tone indicated just the opposite.
“We're going to get through this,” he told her to no response.
Larry glanced at Marla through the rear-view mirror and offered a caveat of his own. “We have more radios at the cabin, better than the crank. Good chance they're still working.”
“How so?” James asked.
“Just a hunch.”
Marla feigned a smile and then resumed window watching. The car slowed as they approached a dirt road on the right.
“When was the last time you talked with your wife?” James asked.
“This morning,” he said. “Before the attack. We were going to spend the weekend here. Just so happens she was at the cabin a day early to spruce the place up.”
“Who do you think attacked us?” James asked outright.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Larry said. “Whoever did probably just started World War Three.”
They turned onto the dirt road, upon shaky ground. The wagon dipped and rose along the holes, rattling with the rugged terrain. James gripped his arm rest as the car slowed and then sped forward between clear spots. They traveled a sharp curve that brought them deeper into the forest. A cloud of insects appeared across the beams of their headlights. Tree branches scraped against the roof. The already rugged path seemed to get worse the deeper into the forest they got. Branches got lower along with the roughness of their path. The road was no longer visible. They were driving through grass, leaves, and brush.
The engine revved as they ascended another hill and onto a bumpy path. James squinted ahead and saw what looked like faint tire tracks, which he assumed Larry was using to guide him. Or maybe he knew the way by heart. They soon reached a straight path between rows of pine trees on both sides. Up ahead sat a small cabin, partially concealed under the branches of looming trees. There was a Ford pick-up parked in front. The eerie sight of a single darkened cabin in the middle of the forest was less than inviting. But Larry had been true to his word so far and had managed to get them there.
“Is your wife going to be okay with this?” James asked.
Larry waved him off. “She won't mind. Don't worry about it.”
“I would,” Marla said, speaking up for the first time.
James and Larry glanced back and then at each other, neither one of them wanting to pick a fight with her.
A litany of questions had entered James's mind, but he didn't want to bombard Larry all at once. From outside, the cabin looked deserted. Larry parked next to the truck and shut the engine off. In the calm of the forest and settling of dust, they sat for a moment and listened. Larry was the first to get out as James soon followed. He stretched toward the sky and breathed in the fresh air. Marla opened her door and got out, looking around in the darkness that surrounded them. Crickets chirped among the rustling of small unseen animals, scurrying in the woods. Owls hooted in unison.
James turned around to check on Marla. “Everything okay?”
“Yep,” she said, nodding with her hands in her pocket. “I guess we're all alone out here.”
“We sure are,” Larry said, walking around to the back of the wagon. The cabin itself was propped a few feet above the ground with cement pillars. There was a small front deck with an entrance in the middle and a window on each side. It had an arched roof and chimney. It seemed quite small, but workable with their situation. James reminded himself that anything would be better than a shelter or government camp. Tiny sticks and leaves crunched under his shoes. Branches swayed from above in the cooling air. For James, the cabin had potential. It could really work if they let it. Marla would come around in a few days. She'd have to.
Larry had told James that the creek wasn't far from the cabin where they could draw plenty of fresh water. They even had a garden in the back and were working on a water well. It was everything they could need, he had put it. But the coming winter would change all of that.
“It's very nice,” Marla said, surprising James with her optimistic tone.
“Thanks,” Larry said. “Carol and I have owned it for about five years now. Our little home away from home. She's retired now and likes to help me around the store. Can't wait for you guys to meet her.” He opened the back and then stood for a moment, thinking. “Let me go check in with her first before we go barging in there.” He walked past them, slapping James on the back. They watched as Larry walked up the steps to the cabin deck and went to the door. He unlocked it, opened it a crack, and slipped inside. The door creaked shut and they heard Larry's footsteps move slowly across the hardwood floor.
James put his arm around Marla and pulled her closer. She placed her head on his shoulder, and for the moment it seemed like all was forgiven. “I know this is strange,” he began as they watched the cabin. “Just give it a chance.”
Marla nodded and then stepped away, pulling her bag from the back seat. “I'm trying the best I can, James.”
James dipped inside the back seat and grabbed his bag as well. In his haste, he hoped he packed enough clothes for them both. Marla was picky about what she wore, and he fully expected the grief that would follow.
James nudged closer to her and took her hand. “So, you forgive me?”
“Don't push your luck,” she said, looking upward.
The cabin door suddenly opened as Larry stepped outside with a lantern, glowing with light. He walked down the steps and approached them, speaking in a quiet tone. “Okay. It's late. Let's unload the wagon and get off to bed.”
“Sounds good to me,” James said, clasping his hand.
“Listen,” Larry quietly continued. “Carol's in bed. She knows we're here, and she'll see us in the morning.”
“And she's fine with us being here?” James asked again, wanting to be sure.
“Yes,” Larry said as though it was no issue. “I'll show you to your room first.”
James grabbed both his luggage and Marla's as she took some smaller bags. They followed Larry inside where he led the way. The air was stuffy, and their feet creaked on every floorboard. There was a small living room and adjacent kitchen in their path, practically connected, and then a hallway above that. Dust floated through the air, visible through the beam of light.
Inside, the cabin was even smaller than expected, but it did have two separate bedrooms as Larry had said. He led them past a closed door to the end of the narrow hall where their room was on one side and a bathroom the size of a broom closet on the other. Larry entered the room and immediately went to an end table, where he lit the wick of a sizable lantern. Inside the minimally furnished room was a twin bed, neatly made with two pillows. A wardrobe stood in the corner next to a window, blinds closed. It looked cozy enough for the two of them. James followed inside and set their luggage at the foot of the bed as Marla followed.
Hideaway (Book 1): An EMP Thriller Page 5