DOWNBURST
Weathering the Storm Series
Book 5
By
Kenny Soward
Mike Kraus
© 2019 Muonic Press Inc
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
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Special Thanks
Special thanks to my awesome beta team, without whom this book wouldn’t be nearly as great.
Thank you!
WEATHERING THE STORM Book 6
Available Here
Prologue
Last time on Weathering the Storm…
After breaking through to the outskirts of Boston, Jake and his companions were picked up by a military convoy pressing into the city. They were taken to a FEMA camp outside of Providence, Rhode Island, where they were given food and water. Jake befriended a soldier named Corporal Scott Riley, and he quickly learned that no one was allowed to leave the camp due to safety concerns.
Jake saw an opportunity to win his freedom so he could get home to Sara and the kids when he spotted a broken-down SATCOM terminal at the edge of camp. In a risky move, Jake made a bargain with the camp guards, claiming he could fix the SATCOM terminal if the guards would get him an audience with the camp’s leader, Captain Sanchez.
Captain Sanchez was sympathetic to Jake’s plight and suggested he may give Jake a ride home if he fixed the terminal. Jake, along with Specialist Murray, made the repairs on the equipment just as terrorists, called crawlers, attacked the camp. In a vicious firefight, Jake helped defend the camp, which elevated him in Captain Sanchez’s eyes.
Captain Sanchez allowed Jake to leave the camp on one condition: Jake must deliver some top-secret equipment to the commander of the White Pine, Tennessee troop outpost and supply station. Jake was happy to be of service to the captain and the military. He gladly accepted the deal, and Sanchez provided Jake with a truck and some gear. Jake got in line behind a convoy of semi-trailer trucks and Humvees headed southwest to White Pine, anxious to be that much closer to home.
Back in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, Sara, Dion, and one of the Good Folk, Steven, raided Trailmarker’s Urgent Care to rescue Sara’s son, Todd, and the rest of those trapped by dangerous locals. Upon arriving at the urgent care, Sara and Steven moved into place, while Dion remained hidden off the road. Sara and Steven quickly discovered that some of the raiders were holed up in a neighboring bar getting drunk, so they locked them in and killed the rest of the guards in a bloody skirmish before taking out those inside the bar.
The owner of Trailmarker’s Urgent Care, Doctor Carla Smith, showed great appreciation and brought Sara to see Todd. Sara’s heart sank when she discovered Todd had some broken ribs, an injury sustained when the local raiders had first attacked and surrounded the urgent care facility. Before taking her son back home, Sara promised Doctor Smith that they would help her take care of the wounded up in the cabins on Pine Bluff Mountain. One of the Good Folk, a tall girl named Barbara, who seemed to have taken a liking to Todd, helped get Todd back into the car and home to the cabin. Little did Sara know the girl would soon become a permanent fixture, helping them come up with ideas to better defend the cabin and suggesting they go out on some scavenging expeditions to acquire better tools and gear. Sara agreed with the tall girl, and one morning they, along with Sara’s German Shepherd, Rex, went on an expedition to search some houses in the surrounding area.
After some success gathering a chainsaw and other tools from a local home, Sara, Barbara, and Rex stumbled upon the lodge where the terrorists—Yi, Ivan, Katrya, and the others—were holed up. Fortunately, the crawlers were out on a mission, and Sara discovered one of Katrya’s torture victims crawling down the walkway in an effort to escape. Barbara helped the injured girl to the car while Sara went inside the lodge to check on the girl’s family. Just as Sara stepped inside, the computer technician and hacker, Alina, returned from the bathroom. In the blink of an eye, Alina drew her weapon, and the women fired at the same time. Both bullets scored hits, and Rex jumped into the fray and occupied Alina until Sara could gather her wits long enough to shoot Alina again, this time fatally.
Barbara rushed in and gaped at the scene, and Sara turned to see Yi’s injured comrade, Jiao, trying to raise a rifle to shoot them from behind. Barbara and Sara fired first and killed Jiao, barely avoiding being shot themselves. Then they hurried the injured girl back to the cabin, but not before retrieving the terrorists’ mysterious black computer from the kitchen table, a decision that could spell their doom.
The terrorist, Yi, grew increasingly unhappy under Katrya’s command. The Ukrainian agent did not hold herself to the same standards Yi did, and he became concerned that the woman did not have the New Block’s best interests at heart. He began to see her as an irresponsible, and possibly demented, individual with the barbaric habit of torturing her victims. Katrya took it a step farther when she acted recklessly in a raid on the White Pine troop outpost that cost the lives of several of her own soldiers.
Upon returning to the lodge, Yi was incensed to find Alina and Jiao dead and the black computer stolen. He blamed Katrya’s reckless hubris for the disaster, although Katrya promised they could easily find the computer with the help of a homing beacon. She convinced Yi that it would not be long before they regained control of their mission, but Yi was unconvinced.
Single mother Rita, struggled through the economic downturn following the hurricanes on the East Coast and the subsequent terrorists attacks that had turned the country upside down. She felt far from home and stuck in St. Louis, Missouri, where her late husband had moved their family years ago. One day, in an effort to keep her family fed, Rita walked several miles in the cold to a meal center where the United States military was passing out rationed groceries to the citizens. After waiting in line for four hours, Rita left the meal center and started walking home with some groceries, happy to be able to feed her family. Rounding a corner, Rita was ambushed by a fist that knocked her to the ground and caused her nose to bleed. Looking around in dazed confusion, Rita saw a man and what appeared to be his daughter picking up he
r groceries. When she feebly protested, the man turned his knife on her and cut both of her cheeks.
Just when she thought the thieves were going to kill her, two policemen came around the corner. Seeing Rita’s bleeding face, the officers advanced on the man, only to be stabbed from behind by the girl. As the two officers fought for their lives, Rita turned and ran as hard as she could for home, wishing her family had never moved to St. Louis.
We begin Weathering the Storm 5 with Rita and her struggles in a new and brutal world.
Chapter 1
Rita, St. Louis, Missouri
“I need extra food, bottled water, and some gasoline.” Rita stood in Max Williams’s living room with her hands clasped in front of her and her heart beating nervously in her chest.
Max was a thin man in his forties with fine hair parted on the side and combed back in an almost handsome way, if it didn’t look so greasy. Some might call the man scrawny, even skeletal, at least until they talked to him and experienced his efficient mannerisms and the hint of quick intelligence in his eyes.
If Rita remembered correctly, Max had been employed down at the water purification plant when her husband was alive. They’d seen Max and his wife around the neighborhood at barbeques or garage sales, seemingly happy. Later, Rita found out Max’s wife had left him, and rumors indicated Max might have been abusive to her. But rumors were rumors, and she couldn’t be one hundred percent sure they were true. Still, it put Rita on edge.
“The meal centers aren’t providing enough for you folks?” Max seemed nice enough, but Rita saw a hint of dark curiosity in his eyes as he hovered over an inventory ledger.
Behind Max was a stack of canned goods, bottled water, and even a set of new tires stacked in his kitchen. A man who looked like he could have been Max’s brother sat off to the side with a shotgun resting on his scrawny knees, regarding Rita with eyes full of the same curious doubt.
“They fed us fine,” Rita said with an enthusiastic nod. She didn’t want to talk badly about the military’s efforts to ensure the citizens of St. Louis got a steady supply of the essentials. “Really great guys down there. But we’re going away for just a couple of days, and we need to stock up.”
Max sat straighter in his chair and looked past Rita through the wide bay window to where her Honda CRV was parked in the street. Rita turned and glanced back, too. Bobby Junior was in the passenger seat, watching his mother with wide, frightened eyes in his increasingly thinning face. To Rita, he looked completely different from the chubby little boy she was used to. In the back seat, her daughters’ heads were just visible through the window where they’d obediently remained buckled into their seats, watching their mother try to bargain with Max with fearful expressions.
After Rita had come home yesterday with a cut face and bloody jacket, the kids realized just how much the world had changed. They’d read their mother’s tense body language and short temper as she’d ordered them to pack everything they could carry into the back of the Honda CRV. Then she had allowed them to get a few hours of sleep before she’d packed them into the Honda, locked up their home for the last time, and drove over to Max’s to get the supplies.
Feeling guilty that she’d given her kids such a fright, Rita waved to them and smiled weakly before turning back to Max.
“I dunno, Rita.” Max shook his head slowly as his eyes slid from the window to her. “You’re packed to the gills out there, so I’d bet you’re going away for more than just a couple of days. I bet you’re going away for good.”
Rita’s lips pursed. “It’s really none of your business, Max. Now, I’ve brought you a bunch of tools, and I want to trade them for some food, water, and gasoline. Do we have a deal or not?” Rita indicated several gas and electric power tools she’d placed on the floor in front of Max’s desk. She didn’t know much about the tools, but her husband had commented about their quality and worth on more than one occasion, and she suspected it was at least a thousand dollars’ worth of merchandise.
Max didn’t even glance at the tools, but he gave her a curious look. “You’ve had enough of St. Louis, and now you’re running home to your family, I suspect. Didn’t you tell me you had family in Albuquerque?”
“Again, Max, where I’m going and why is none of your concern.” Rita tried to keep her expression neutral. She didn’t want him to realize how close he’d hit the mark, although she suspected the bandages on her cheeks from when the knife-man had cut her and her swollen lip gave him all the clues he needed. “If you don’t want to trade with me, then I’ll go somewhere else.”
“Don’t be silly, Rita.” A predatory smile touched Max’s lips. “I’m the only one around here with the kind of stock you need. No one else has a few hundred gallons of regular and diesel gasoline just sitting around.”
Rita wanted to blurt out that she’d just tell the military about his little operation, but one glance over at Max’s surly lookalike and Rita clamped her mouth tight. Tossing around self-righteousness and threats would only get her hurt. Or killed.
“Fine. If you don’t want the tools, then what do you want?”
Max sat back and rubbed his chin as if he was thinking hard about it. However, Rita could tell by the smug look in his eyes that Max already knew what he wanted. “Seems like you’re all packed up and leaving for good. So…” Max drew out the word so that it sounded like a suggestion, “…you won’t be needing your house any longer, right?”
Rita closed her eyes and let out a slow, quiet sigh. They’d built a lot of good memories in that house, mostly just her and the kids since her husband spent most of his time in his office working late. But what she needed now was food and water and gasoline and whatever other supplies could get them to her family in Albuquerque. Trying to hold on to the house was like holding on to a handful of sand that could slip away at any moment. Who was to say someone wouldn’t come along and simply take the house from her just like the knife-man and his daughter had taken away her groceries?
Better she trade the house now while it was still hers to trade.
Mind made up, Rita fished her house keys out of her purse and held them in her hand. “Fine. But I want all the gas I can carry, and at least two weeks’ worth of food and water.”
“All right.”
“You’re going to give me something else, too.” Rita wasn’t sure what else she would possibly need, but she couldn’t let Max have her house without extracting at least one more thing from him.
“Fine, Rita,” Max said. His smile was calm and smug. “What’ll it be?”
Rita’s eyes darted all around the room, settling on the tires and boxes of items she couldn’t identify. Then her eyes fell to the table in front of her where Max had placed various guns and knives and batons. Randomly, she picked out one of the handguns and bent to pick it up, amazed at how heavy and reassuring the weapon was.
“.357 revolver.” Max nodded in an impressed way. “Good choice. And that one shoots as smooth as any I’ve ever had.”
Rita nodded and then bent down to grab a small box of ammunition that had been sitting next to the gun, cradling both items to her chest. She didn’t know how to use the weapon, but she would figure it out. She fixed Max with a firm look, narrowing her eyes. “This gun and bullets, and all the food, water, and gas I can fit into the back of my Honda.”
Max stared at Rita with a look that bordered on respect, and his smile faded into a more professional-looking frown. Then he nodded to the man sitting in the chair next to him. “My brother Carl will see to your supplies.”
Holding the gun and ammunition in one hand, Rita held out her house keys, dangling them in front of her face for a moment before she stepped forward and dropped them on the desk in front of Max with a jangle that echoed in her brain.
“Deal,” she said, firmly.
Max shook his head with a chuckle. “You sure seem determined to get to where you need to go, Rita. Giving up your home like that is a tough choice. I can respect that.” Max put his ha
nd to his heart in mock sympathy. “Out of the kindness of my heart, I’ll let you go back to your house and pick out a small memorial token to take with you.”
Rita thought about all the material things she and her husband had accumulated over the years, all of it mostly useless now. The only thing worth going back for were her husband’s ashes where they rested on the mantle. But what good would those ashes do her now? She had no reason to resent the man, but she no longer felt close to him like she had when they’d first met and dated. Over the years, the distance between them had grown larger, a gap made permanent by his death.
She could do without his ashes; her memories of him would have to be enough.
It was a surprisingly easy decision.
“Keep it all,” Rita said with a terse and definitive nod. “We need the room for other things.”
Max smiled. “Understood. Carl, see Miss Rita gets what she bargained for.”
“You got it.” Carl stood and guided Rita outside to the garage. The man opened the garage door to reveal shelves upon shelves of assorted foodstuffs, tools, and weapons that would be worth their weight in gold in the coming months.
Carl indicated a plastic storage bin sitting on the ground nearby. Rita put the gun and ammunition inside and started looking over the selection of food items while Carl carried five-gallon gas cans out to the Honda. Her spirit brightened when she saw a selection of candy bars, soft drinks, and chips that Bobby Junior and the girls would love. There were also SpaghettiOs, SPAM, and beef stew that they could easily eat right out of the can. Then she spotted some beige bags with MRE stenciled on the front in big black letters.
“Meal, ready-to-eat, individual,” she read the description printed below the acronym. Curious, she picked up one of the bags and turned it around, staring at the ingredients. She didn’t know much about MREs, but the name sounded familiar. She thought they were some kind of long-lasting military ration. “Wow, look at the calories in some of these little puppies! Twelve hundred and fifty!”
Weathering The Storm (Book 5): Downburst Page 1