Weathering The Storm (Book 5): Downburst

by Soward, Kenny

“Push!” Sara growled, bowing her back as she put all her weight into the effort.

  It turned out they didn’t need to push hard at all. Despite its smashed front end and the damage to the frame, the van rolled forward easily. The tires crunched on the small bit of gravel on the road’s shoulder before the weighty vehicle rolled right off and tumbled into the gully, taking out small trees and shrubs until if finally hit the bottom with a crash.

  Sara hobbled over to the dead driver and bent down, grabbing the man’s shirt by his shoulders. She looked up at Dion and jerked her head towards the gully. After a brief hesitation, Dion nodded and jogged over on unsteady legs. He bent down and grasped the man’s ankles, nodding up at Sara when he was ready. They lifted together, carried the man to the edge, and tossed him in after a count of three. Sara watched the body somersault down, arms and legs flailing everywhere, until it disappeared into the green undergrowth.

  Standing straight, wobbling, Sara peered down at the road below to see if anyone had seen them do their dirty work. There was no one on Pine Bluff Road or the lower main road, but Sara knew they still weren’t safe. Anyone coming up Pine Bluff Road would easily see the mass of white metal piled into the gully, and they would stop to investigate and find the dead bodies as well.

  Sara winced thinking about the next chore. “We need to walk up to the cabin and get some rope.”

  “Why?”

  “Someone needs to climb down there and cover those vehicles with brush.”

  Dion nodded in understanding and then jerked his thumb up Pine Bluff Road. “Race you to the top?”

  Sara caught the wry smile on his face, and she was happy to hear him crack a joke. At the same time, it could be the first sign that Dion was going to push the emotional impact of the incident deep down into his psyche, just like Sara had done.

  “I get a head start.” Sara’s tone was flat as she started limping painfully up the road. “Age before beauty, or something like that.”

  Dion chuckled, and his slow, shuffling footsteps soon fell in behind her.

  Chapter 20

  Jake, White Pines, Tennessee | 3:17 p.m., Sunday

  As Jake left Virginia behind him, a range of low mountains began to rise slowly on his left. He felt eager to be in familiar territory. He couldn’t reach the Tennessee border fast enough, and as he passed through Abingdon, Virginia, his hopes reached an all-time high.

  The Suburban was a big, reliable truck, and it had no problems ticking off the miles like a champ, though Jake forced himself to stay below eighty miles per hour in the event he came upon another roadblock.

  But the expressway was free of dangers and even had a small amount of traffic. There wasn’t much debris on the roadways aside from a few broken-down cars, so the terrorists clearly were not haunting this stretch of I-81. Perhaps they had focused their resources on the small towns on the edges of the country, although that was just a hunch he had.

  Jake had set his two-way radio to “scan” at a low volume in case anyone from the military was trying to communicate with him, then he turned on the truck’s radio and searched the AM band for the news. He’d been so busy fighting for his life and hiding from danger over the past couple of days that he’d not kept up with current events.

  He waded through the static, pressing the radio panel button until a signal came through loud and clear. A news reporter’s voice burst through the Suburban’s speakers, and Jake settled back to listen, although the tone of the woman’s voice put him on edge.

  “The President of the United States just finished speaking, confirming the reports that the explosions in Oklahoma City and at FEMA camps in South Carolina and Washington, DC contained radioactive material. He stated that the Department of Homeland Security and other federal agencies are deploying highly sensitive radioactive material detectors, and air support will be doubled to quickly neutralize any potential threats. As for those responsible, the President has not named countries specifically, although he alluded to terror cells associated with Ukraine, North Korea, and Russia.

  “They’re using dirty bombs,” Jake mumbled to himself, shaking his head as a feeling of paralysis took hold of him.

  From what Jake knew, dirty bombs were devices that used conventional explosives to spread radioactive materials. They couldn’t kill a lot of people; however, the deadly radioactive aftermath could render areas uninhabitable for decades. And the threat of more attacks could cripple an already paranoid and fearful country. Jake had heard about missing radioactive material as a result of the downfall of the Soviet Union, so if Russia was involved, who knew how much they had?

  “The hits just keep coming.” Jake said. He kept the news on while he drove, forcing himself to listen to the panicked reporters as they interviewed survivors of the blasts. The affected FEMA camps were being scrubbed and moved, but Jake wasn’t hopeful.

  “Trying to enforce decontamination protocols in this environment will be a nightmare,” Jake agreed with the reporters’ negative spin. “Be careful, Marcy. Get out of Providence if you can.”

  Focusing on the road, Jake upped his speed to eighty-five. The stripes in the middle of the two-lane highway zipped by, and the road dipped down into a forest of pine trees and purple-colored bushes that pressed in on both sides, putting the mountains out of sight. The Suburban passed out of the pine forest and into the open, and Jake glanced to his left to see the distant ridge of the Smoky Mountains once more.

  He passed Mosheim and Greeneville, Tennessee, and he knew from Captain Sanchez’s big paper map that he was getting close to White Pine. He caught up to two cars in front of him, barely glancing at the drivers as he passed them. Then he passed a weigh station, surprised to see six semi-trailer trucks sitting in the lot, idling. They weren’t the military convoy he’d left Providence with.

  “Come on, come on.” Jake pounded his palms on the steering wheel, and he wondered if he should stop and check the map again. Then he passed a sign for Knoxville in fifty-four miles, and his hope that White Pine was near grew.

  The two-way radio in the passenger seat began to squelch and pick up noise, and a voice broke through that sounded like it was issuing military orders. Three dozen civilian vehicles came into view up ahead, arranged in a formation Jake recognized as a checkpoint line. He pulled to a stop behind a truck hauling cattle. Peering ahead, Jake spotted the big military vehicles stretched out across the road just before the exit ramp to White Pine Road.

  A short ridge rose up on his right, and the shoulder was thin. He could probably try to get around it, although that would surely get him shot by one of the mounted guns. Jake tapped the steering wheel, squirming in his seat as the checkpoint moved as slow as molasses. The vehicles seemed to inch along, and the distance between himself and his family expanded once more.

  Finally, Jake picked up the two-way radio and, during a moment of quiet, hit the talk button.

  “Hello, this is Jake, um, this is Jade Tiger. I was with the Providence convoy before we got separated in Suffern. I have a package for Captain Stern.” Jake let go of the talk button, then pressed it again, adding, “Over.”

  A few moments later, a group of six soldiers came charging over the ridge on his right. Jake held up his hands even though the soldiers weren’t pointing their weapons at him. They seemed to be looking everywhere else but at the Suburban. However, one soldier stepped up to Jake’s passenger side and peered in through the glass. His eyes assessed Jake and then moved to the back of the truck.

  “It’s in the back, beneath the backpack,” Jake shouted, trying to make the soldier understand where Captain Stern’s package was.

  The soldier barked something into his radio and stepped away from the truck, waving Jake around. Jake pointed to the right shoulder of the road, and the soldier nodded and kept waving him on.

  Jake turned the wheel sharply to the right and moved around the cattle truck. He cruised ahead to the front of the line, passing between two Humvees as the soldiers waved him quickly through. A so
ldier standing in front of another line of military vehicles pointed to Jake and then pointed to the exit ramp, indicating that Jake should get off.

  “Fine by me,” Jake mumbled, driving up the exit ramp. He glanced around, noticing a huge parking lot full of semi-trailer trucks to his left along with a big Pilot Travel Center. On his right was a Wendy’s, a Dunkin’ Donuts, and at least thirty or forty Humvees along with a half-dozen of those same Abrams tanks he’d seen back in Providence.

  The soldiers at the end of the ramp pointed him to the left, so Jake obliged, joining the main road and passing beneath the expressway.

  “You are clear to enter the Pilot Travel Center lot, Jade Tiger,” a voice said over the radio. “I repeat, pull into the travel center and park. Do not get out of your vehicle until you’re commanded to.”

  Jake picked up the radio and pressed the talk button. “Understood.”

  He tossed the radio into the seat, rolling down his windows as he pulled into the parking lot. The wind shrieked into the Suburban, and Jake pulled into an empty spot in the front. Four soldiers descended on the Suburban, opening the back hatch, removing all of Jake’s gear, and tossing it on the ground outside.

  One soldier stood near Jake’s window, looking stoic even when Jake gave him a little wave.

  “Got it,” one of the soldiers said, pulling out the big black case. With the help of another soldier, they threw it in the back of a Humvee parked nearby and sped off.

  “You can get out now,” the soldier standing near Jake’s window said.

  Jake opened the Suburban’s door and got out, thankful to stretch his legs after the tense, four-hour journey to finish his last leg.

  “Go inside the Pilot and wait,” the soldier said before he started to walk away.

  “Look, sir,” Jake said. “I’d like to get back on the road and get home. Captain Sanchez promised me that once I delivered the case to Captain Stern, I’d be free to go.” Jake glanced over his shoulder at the road behind him. He was sure it led up into the mountains, and the cabin.

  The soldier turned. “Negative. No one leaves without Captain Stern’s permission. She’ll want to debrief you before she authorizes your release.”

  “My release,” Jake said, flatly, pressing his fist into his thigh. He took another glance out at the road, noting how it crawled with military personnel of every sort. If Jake tried to leave, he was sure to be stopped. The military guys weren’t his enemies, but they were stubborn when it came to protocol. Especially when he needed to be somewhere.

  Seeing Jake’s anxiety, the soldier relaxed his expression and regarded Jake with sympathy. “Look, just go inside and have some coffee and a sandwich. Relax. Captain Stern will be with you as soon as she can. You ran that package from Providence all the way here, and that’s no small feat.”

  “No kidding.” Jake shook his head, thinking of all the dangers he’d passed on his way here. The ambush in Suffern, the strange towns warring with groups of terrorists and their sympathizers. The battle on the bridge. The nice bikers at the checkpoint in White Plains, Pennsylvania. Tom Robbins’s corpse at the Lowe’s in Roanoke. Jake nodded to the officer, honestly appreciating the fact that he’d reached White Pine safely, all things considered. “Thanks, sir. I really appreciate that. You know, I could probably use a sandwich, and coffee sounds great.”

  “That’s the spirit.” The soldier patted Jake on the shoulder and then ran off.

  Chapter 21

  Jake, White Pine, Tennessee | 4:10 p.m., Sunday

  Jake stepped into the Pilot Travel Center and had a look around. There were the typical rows of travel items such as phone chargers, DVD movies, and snacks. And there were even big cylinders filled with iced-up soft drinks and bottled water. Some of the snack rows had been pushed aside to make room for the small diner tables occupied by various military personnel and a couple of civilians.

  Along the far wall was a sandwich line with cold cuts and cheese and condiments. Three workers behind the counter served a short line of military personnel, taking their orders and piling on meat and cheese.

  An island off to the side boasted a row of fountain drinks and two rows of industrial-sized coffee carafes. Smells of roasted beans and salty meat caused Jake’s stomach to growl in anticipation. Two minutes ago, he hadn’t been hungry at all, but now his appetite came roaring back. After several days of granola bars, MREs, and jerky, Jake’s body was ready for some real food.

  He started to walk through the dining area and get in line when two soldiers stood from a table and stepped in his way. Jake stopped and gave the two a quick once-over. One soldier was tall, probably six feet four inches, with dark curly hair cropped close to his head. The other soldier was short and stout, with blindingly bright hair shaped into a tight crew cut. A third soldier sat at the table, her auburn hair pulled tightly back against her head in strict military fashion.

  “Can I help you gentlemen?” Jake asked, focusing his attention back on the two men blocking his way.

  “Maybe you can,” the tall one said with a raised eyebrow. “We’re looking for our Frisky Puppy. Maybe you’ve seen him around.”

  Jake’s jaw dropped slightly, at first not understanding what the soldier was talking about.

  The shorter man grinned slightly at Jake’s lost expression, a hint of mirth in his sharp blue eyes. “I mean, it might seem like a frisky puppy would be defenseless against a bunch of crawlers out there on I-81, but it looks like our puppy made it home.”

  Jake stared at the two, still perplexed. At the same time, their voices sounded familiar, like he’d spoken to them before, only not face-to-face. And then Jake’s brain made the connection and he realized he’d heard their voices over the two-way radio back when he was with the convoy. These had to be the two soldiers who’d openly challenged the terrorists, the crawlers as they called them, as the convoy left Providence. These were two of the convoy’s defenders.

  Jake gave them an uncertain grin. “I think you mean Jade Tiger.”

  The yellow-haired man’s grin widened, and the tall man broke into loud, boisterous laughter that lifted Jake’s spirit instantly. It was the kind of natural laughter that often spread in an infectious manner, and Jake’s grin widened as proof.

  “Jade Tiger,” the tall man goofed as he grabbed Jake’s shoulder and shook it in a friendly way. “The mighty Jade Tiger. Well, I’m Collier, and this little ray of sunshine here is Ostrosky.” Collier gestured to the shorter man with a flourish.

  “Not Goofy and Donald Duck?” Jake asked, joking with the men.

  Collier burst out in laughter again, spinning in a circle and looking around as if amazed that no one else was laughing with him. “Hey, the man has a sense of humor, after all.”

  Ostrosky nodded and patted Jake on the shoulder. “Yeah, I’m Goofy, and he’s Donald Duck. I’m actually good with that.”

  “You can call me Jake.”

  “Okay, Jake.” Ostrosky turned him toward the woman sitting at the table. “This here is Jenkins. She was in the convoy, too.”

  The red-haired woman turned away from her tray and offered her hand to Jake. “I was a gunner on the second Humvee from the end. You sure danced well when those crawlers hit us.”

  “Thanks. It was really just blind luck. I didn’t know what the heck was going on.” Jake recalled the ambush at Suffern, the sense of panic as the mass of dark vehicles pulled in behind the convoy.

  “Well, we’re glad you made it out.” Jenkins had ice-colored eyes and a pair of hard dimples at the corners of her mouth. “We were a little worried that the crawlers got you when you jumped past us.”

  “They almost did, or someone almost did. I ended up getting off the expressway, rolling through some pretty rotten towns filled with dangerous people. Met some friends in White Plains, Pennsylvania who pointed me in the right direction. And as you can see, I eventually made it here after a quick vehicle swap.”

  “The lost puppy found his way home,” Collier said, grinning fro
m ear to ear. “Gonna grab some grub?”

  “I was thinking about it.”

  “Good. Make yourself a plate and then join us. We want to hear how our little frisky pup made it home.”

  “It’s Jade Tiger,” Jake reminded Collier with a mockingly dark look before lightening his expression. “I’ll be right back.”

  Jake went to the end of the line, grabbed a paper plate, napkins, and plastic utensils. He handed his plate to one of the workers, and he made Jake a sandwich a giant would’ve been proud of. Turkey, ham, American cheese, topped off with lettuce, onions, tomato, and a slathering of mayonnaise. They threw two scoops of potato salad and some hot baked beans next to the sandwich, adding even more weight to the already overburdened plate.

  Jake carried his food over to the drink island, set it down carefully, and made himself a cup of coffee. The coffee smelled bitter and reminded him of the stuff Ashley’s Westin folks had concocted during their nights camping back in Boston.

  Thus situated, Jake went over to the table with his new friends and sat down. It looked like they’d already eaten or were just about done. Jenkins was poking around at her potato salad with a fork while Collier dug around between his teeth with a toothpick. The blond Ostrosky leaned back in his chair with his feet kicked up.

  The soldiers waited respectfully for Jake to get a few bites in before they started asking him questions.

  Jake held his hand up, saying, “Why don’t you guys start while I eat? I want to know what happened to you after we split up at Suffern.”

  Collier launched into the story, explaining how the convoy had beaten off the crawlers and broken through the roadblock, thanks to Jake’s initial punch. Then they’d barreled their way down the expressway all the way home to White Pine.

  “What did you do in Harrisburg?” Jake asked between chewing his delicious sandwich. It was the first bread he’d eaten in a month, and even though it wasn’t as soft as Wonder Bread, it was still amazing. “I had to take a detour around the bridge. That’s where I ran into a fight between the locals and crawlers.”