“We made it through before all that started,” Collier said. “We would have been ambushed there if not for some of our boys and girls who were already patrolling the area. They held the bridge while we went through. As far as I know, they’re still there, working on the liberation of Harrisburg.”
“Good to hear,” Jake nodded, his words barely discernible as he downed the sandwich and started on his potato salad.
“It won’t be long now until we kick those jerk crawlers and their cronies out of the country,” Ostrosky said. “We’re filling up more body bags with the bastards by the day.”
“You guys hear about the dirty bombs?” Jake asked. “Three of them so far.”
“Five,” Jenkins said before she rattled off two more cities hit with dirty bombs they hadn’t said on the news—Sacramento and Las Vegas. “Only thirty people killed, total.”
Jake could only shake his head. “Yeah, but I’d say people are going to have to find a new place to gamble for a few years until the radiation levels go down.”
“I was just there three years ago,” Collier said. “Met a little lady who—”
“We don’t want to hear about your ladies,” Jenkins said with a brief but eloquent eye roll. “Unless you’re referring to machinery, like my Clara.”
Seeing Jake’s confused expression, Ostrosky clarified with a casual wave at the woman. “She’s talking about her .50 cal. She calls it Clara.”
“Named her after my mother,” Jenkins said, making the Christian sign of the cross on her chest. “May she rest in peace.”
A wan smile drifted across Jake’s features as their conversation died down, all their stories told.
“What are you going to do now, Jake?” Jenkins asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Now that you’ve delivered Stern’s little prize.”
“I want to get home to my family. They’re just down in Gatlinburg.”
“Oh, my,” Jenkins’s expression softened in sympathy. “That’s less than an hour from here. Just down the back roads.”
Jake nodded. “I know. They won’t let me leave. They said I need to be debriefed by Captain Stern.”
“Debriefings are a way of life around here,” Ostrosky acknowledged.
“It’s a wonder they don’t debrief us about the coffee, or the sandwiches,” Collier suggested, pointing at things around the travel center as he named debriefing points, until he pointed to his own heart and made a sad face. “Or our feelings.”
“I could use a feelings debriefing,” Ostrosky agreed with a solemn nod. “I’ve got a lot to get off my chest.”
“Yeah, the current instability of your brain,” Jenkins joked good-naturedly.
“What can I say, I’m a sensitive guy.” Ostrosky spread his hands as if everyone else should already know it.
Jake listened to the soldiers joke and jostle each other until they were called away to perform some duty or another. He remained seated at the table, rising only to refill his coffee, staring straight ahead as the dinner crowd came and went and darkness replaced the light outside. The halogens inside the store snapped on, bathing everything in stale light, weighing Jake down with boredom and capping his ability to get home like a lid on a pressure cooker.
The support staff eventually left the travel center, leaving Jake almost completely alone with his anxious thoughts. It wasn’t until around midnight that Jake’s head grew heavy and his eyelids sank until they were shut, leaving him alone with the hum of the lights and kitchen machinery.
He tried to concentrate on Sara, wondering where she was at that precise moment. He imagined himself hovering over the top of their cabin. A warm glow leaked from the windows, and the wind gusted lazily through the surrounding trees. Jake allowed himself to float slowly down through the roof until he was hovering in the rafters of their living room. From his lofty vantage point, he saw Sara on the couch, curled up with Zoe and Rex as they watched some Disney movie or romantic comedy. Todd lounged in Jake’s special chair, one leg thrown over the arm as he read a book on his smart phone.
Everyone seemed happy and safe.
Smiling, Jake rose up through the roof and into the sky, floating up and up until the cabin was just a speck of light below him. The trip to the cabin comforted Jake, even though it was a simple mental exercise and nothing more.
A moment later, Jake fell asleep with his head resting on his arms.
Chapter 22
Sara, Gatlinburg, Tennessee | 1:05 a.m., Monday
“I’m so beat. I could just fall asleep right here in the back seat.” Dion was laying in the back of Frank’s Jeep as Sara drove them down from the Aerie where they’d just left Frank’s body covered with a blanket and several dozen large stones. Sara hoped it would keep bears from getting to the body until they had the energy to give the man a proper burial.
“I was dead after we covered up the junk in the gully,” Barbara said. She stared at her callused hands. “No pun intended.”
Dion chuckled. “Our entire day has been filled with dead people.”
Sara cracked a smile despite her weary limbs and sore eyes. “Guys, we shouldn’t be laughing. Frank is dead.”
“If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry,” Dion said.
“You’re dead right about that,” Barbara agreed, tossing out another zinger as she dug some dirt out from under her fingernails.
“You know,” Sara said, glancing over at Barbara. “This would mark the first time I’ve ever heard you tell a real joke, sort of.”
“I guess you’re right,” Barbara said, tilting her head and contemplating Sara’s words like a young woman well beyond her years. “Cherish it, for it will be the last.”
Sara’s grin widened as she pulled up to the Squirrel’s Nest group of cabins and put the Jeep in park. It was amazing how a bit of dark levity brought people together, even in the worst of times. Then she looked up at the light coming from Frank and Karen’s cabin, and her heart turned dark once again.
Karen had been a wailing mess as they put Frank into the back of the Jeep and drove him to the top of the hill. That had been two hours ago, and Sara secretly hoped the Karen had exhausted herself emotionally or that Natasha had given her a pill to help her sleep.
They were all strung out and tired, weak from working nonstop for several hours. And they still hadn’t seen to their own injuries after forcing the men off the road earlier. For all Sara knew, she could have a concussion or whiplash. Dion, too. He’d taken a heck of a shot from the airbag when they’d smashed into the sedan.
“Are you guys ready for this?” Sara asked the other two.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Barbara grabbed the door handle and opened her door, stepping out into the wind.
“Right behind you,” Dion said as he got out with a groan. Then he bent over and held his back, wincing in pain.
Sara trudged up the porch stairs with the others following close behind, and she opened the door and went inside without knocking. Candles lit the room, giving it a reassuring comfortable warmth. Natasha came around the corner in her socks and padded down the hall toward them. As soon as she saw their tired, hobbling forms, she immediately ushered them into the kitchen.
“I’ve got coffee and soup. Karen made brownies.”
“All of that,” Dion nodded tiredly as he bypassed the kitchen and went straight for the couch, collapsing onto it with a heavy sigh.
Sara came to the end of the wall and turned the corner to see Karen sitting at the kitchen table with her hands wrapped around a mug. She looked small, her shoulders hunched, eyes staring straight ahead. Sara couldn’t imagine what must be going through the woman’s mind.
“How are you holding up?” Sara plopped into the chair across from her while Barbara took the next one over.
Karen looked up, just noticing them. “Oh, hi, ladies,” she replied, her normally bright blue eyes duller by two shades. “And Dion. Did everything go okay? Is my Frank…?”
Sara nodded at the half-spoken question. “Frank is safe, for n
ow. But we need to put him to rest soon. I don’t want…”
“We don’t want the animals getting to him.” Karen nodded in understanding. “I think we should bury him tomorrow or the next day, up on the mountain if that’s okay. He kept saying you all had the best view. It’s so beautiful up there.”
“Of course,” Sara said. “I think I know the perfect spot for him.”
“Oh, thank you.” Karen was quiet for a moment while Natasha rounded up three bowls of soup, placing two on the table and taking one to Dion. Karen’s lips drew into a thin, pensive line, and her eyes lifted to Sara. “You know, Frank really liked you, Sara.”
Sara had half of a spoonful of soup in her mouth, and she almost choked on it. Forcing herself to swallow, she gestured with her spoon. “Not to talk bad about Frank, but you could have fooled me. I don’t think he liked me at all.”
“No, he liked you and your son.” Karen shook her head and produced a wistful expression, rocking her body toward Sara. “He just had a different way of showing it.”
Sara made a curious noise and then dug into the soup, which was really more like a stew, with chunks of meat, potatoes, and carrots smothered in a rich brown gravy. The soft morsels hit her stomach like delicious bricks, and Sara began to wolf the meal down as Karen went on.
“I didn’t see it then, but I do now. He always commented on how you protected your family and kept them safe. I think he was impressed with you and the kids and how well you adapted to everything going on.”
“We were just better prepared than everyone else, Karen,” Sara said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“Maybe, but preparedness comes from love,” Karen suggested. “You prepare to help those you love. You think ahead, sorting out the danger before it reaches them.”
Sara raised her eyes to the woman, blinking once before she shrugged in agreement. “I love my kids and husband more than anything in the world. And I’d love to say I’m always prepared, but I could make you a long list of how often I’ve failed in that department.”
“But you can understand why Frank, why we, wanted to look after Kayla when she came into camp.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at, Karen.” Sara raised the spoon to emphasize her point before she dug in for the last couple bites of stew. “Are you saying Kayla is like family to you?”
Karen sighed heavily, and then her wistful smile returned. “Not exactly that. More like the family we used to be.”
“I don’t understand.”
“When you pulled up with poor Kayla, we just sort of reacted,” Karen said, shifting in her chair as she tried to explain. “She was injured, and we wanted to help. It was like an instinct kicking in that we hadn’t felt in a very long time.” Karen’s eyes moved between Barbara and Sara. “But then after a day or two, I realized what it was. You see, Frank and I had a daughter named Cecilia. She was fourteen when she passed away.”
Sara dropped her spoon into her bowl with a clatter.
“It was a real aggressive sort of cancer,” Karen went on, her eyes moving to the side. “Took her from us within four weeks of diagnosis. The doctors said there was nothing anyone could do. As you can imagine, we were both crushed. Frank, especially. Cecilia was Frank’s little girl. His angel. They did everything together.”
Sara looked across the table at Barbara. The girl stared down at her bowl with tears welling up in her eyes.
“I know I told you ladies it was the alcohol that got to Frank.” Karen rocked back in her chair. “But really, it was Cecilia. Her death started it all. The alcohol. The mean streaks. The health problems. I thought coming up to the mountains for a few days would do him some good. Heck, I spent my whole tax return on it.”
“And he ended up getting shot,” Sara said, feeling a sudden lurch in her chest that was almost a sob. She shook her head, lips drawn into thin line as she contemplated how unfair life could be. “What a nightmare.”
“No, Sara,” Karen said with a warm tone. “Coming up here was the best thing that could have happened to us.” She looked back and forth between Sara and Barbara and Natasha. “Being around you all has been amazing; we learned so much…” Karen searched for words that must be trite compared to the pain she was feeling. Then her eyes refocused, and she went on. “When Frank saw you bring Kayla in hurt and bleeding and…damaged. Something snapped in him. He got this sort of energy coursing through his whole body. He was strong again.”
“No offense, Karen,” Barbara said, her voice husky with emotion. “But I’ve never seen a man that big move as fast as Frank did when we brought Kayla in.”
“I know, right?” Karen laughed even as tears rolled down her cheeks, and she reached across the table and covered Barbara’s hand with hers. “He was on a mission, I tell you. And he looked after that girl hand and foot.”
“I can attest to that,” Natasha said, raising her hand. “The man became an expert in dressing wounds in less than a week.”
“I noticed it, too,” Sara admitted. “It was like he changed his entire personality in two seconds flat.”
“He would have done anything for that girl.”
“No, he did do everything,” Sara said, getting up from her chair and going to Karen. She wrapped her arms around the woman, suddenly feeling guilty about every bad thought she’d ever had about Frank, even if he’d deserved it at the time. “I was standing next to Frank when the driver tried to shoot Kayla. Frank stepped right in front of him without even thinking about it. It was one of the most selfless actions I’ve ever seen.”
Barbara stood and put her arms around Sara and Karen, hugging them tightly.
“Oh, I need to get in on this,” Natasha said. She crossed the kitchen and joined the women, wrapping her arms around them as her long braids fell over Sara’s shoulders.
Dion was there a moment later, sniffling as he joined the embrace. “I didn’t think I had any more tears left,” he said as he wrapped his arms around them. “But I guess I had a whole reserve of them hidden away.”
A laugh burst from Sara’s lips, and she watched Karen’s smile widen even as the woman squeezed her eyes shut tight against the pain she felt.
Sara shut her eyes, too, pouring her heart out to Karen, yet silently praying that Jake was okay and would be home soon.
Chapter 23
Jake, White Pines, Tennessee | 2:35 a.m., Monday
“Mister Walton. Can you wake up for me, Mister Walton?”
Someone pressed on Jake’s right shoulder and shook him gently.
“Wake up, please, Mister Walton. Captain Stern wants to see you now.”
Jake raised his head from his arms and winced against the stark light of the halogens. It felt like night. Late, late night, but he wasn’t absolutely sure. For a moment he thought he was back in the tuna warehouse in Boston, and Marcy was the one trying to wake him up. He started to smile and lift his head from his arms until a stinging pain shot up his neck. He grabbed his shoulder, eyes lifting to the source of his disorientation and pain.
She was a smart-looking corporal with thin-rimmed, round silver glasses. Her dark hair was cropped close to her head, and a brush of bangs swept across her forehead.
“Can I go home?”
“Sorry, sir, but no.” The woman stepped back and clasped her hands behind her. Judging by the cleanliness of her fatigues, she was an office type who wouldn’t normally spend a lot of time on patrol. She wore a smart phone clipped to her belt and a black earpiece that wrapped around the back of her ear. “Captain Stern will see you now.”
“What time is it?”
“Oh two thirty-five, sir.”
“Two thirty in the morning?” Jake rose up and leaned back in his chair. He shook his head as his annoyance grew. “I should have been gone a long time ago. Why didn’t someone wake me up?”
“I don’t have those answers for you, sir.”
Jake looked around and saw the corporal had brought two aides and an MP with her.
“Listen
.” Jake leaned forward, narrowing his eyes as he read her name tag. “Corporal Sullivan. All I want to do is get out of here. So, if seeing Captain Stern helps me achieve that faster, I say let’s go.”
“Great decision, sir,” Sullivan said, then she stepped aside as one of the aides placed a paper cup in front of Jake. It was covered with a plastic lid, and the smell of bitter, travel center coffee greeted his nose.
“Thanks.” Jake flipped up the tab and took a sip, eyes widening almost instantly with the first taste of the bitter brew.
“Follow me, sir.” Corporal Sullivan stepped back and gestured to the aisle leading out of the store.
By the time they reached Captain Stern’s office in the center of the big shipping lot, Jake was fully awake. It didn’t help that the ride over in the older model military Jeep was like riding a roller coaster. Every bump caused the pain in Jake’s neck to lash out, and he’d even spilled some coffee out of the tiny hole in the lid. And it was cold, too. The wind whipped his coat around and found every gap it could to reach his skin. Luckily, his coveralls were made of one-piece, durable canvas that probably offered him more protection than the military fatigues Sullivan had on.
Jake was both alarmed and reassured at the number of soldiers running around and the Humvees and Jeeps patrolling the outer edge of the lot to protect the bustling shipping operation. Semi-trailer trucks were lined up in long rows, waiting for rigs to carry them off to some destination Jake assumed was east. White lights beamed down from tall poles, illuminating the surrounding woods and fields.
“You’ve got a lot of security around here.”
“Crawlers have hit us three times,” Sullivan replied from where she clung to the Jeep’s roll bar next to Jake. “There’s a group that hits us from the north, and one from the south. But we haven’t seen the southern crawlers for a few days, so something must have happened to them.”
Weathering The Storm (Book 5): Downburst Page 14