Dissolution: The Wyoming Chronicles: Book One

by W. Michael Gear

  “At least you slept last night.”

  “You didn’t?”

  Sam shook his head. “I guess, given what we talked about last night, we picked the lock open for too many nightmares. Couldn’t help thinking about my folks.” A beat. “How about you? Indianapolis is farther to the west. Would have been out of the blast zones.”

  Court stared sadly down at the coffee cup the waitress put before him but waved the pot away when she was about to pour. “Just water,” he told her.

  To Sam, he said, “Greenwood’s a bedroom community. Sure, it’s suburbia, but the EMP would still have shut everything off. Anyone driving would have been stranded when the pulse took out the car’s ECU. Stopped. Right there in the road. No lights, stores dark, no gas pumps, and the credit cards were already worthless. Think of the freezers at the grocery stores. All that ice cream. God pity the people who were in elevators, or flying, or...well I guess everything.”

  “But it was the suburbs,” Sam reminded. “They might have had...I don’t know. Something.”

  Court sucked on his lips as he nodded. “Yeah, something.” Then he added, “Dad’s diabetic. Doesn’t matter that he was personnel supervisor for Indiana Parks and Rec. There won’t be any more insulin. Mom is a home-care nurse. EMP would have taken her pacemaker out.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”

  “Sorry.”

  Court watched the waitress shoo a customer away from the booth across from them, saying, “Sorry, that one’s reserved.”

  “Who for?” the man demanded. “I’m the state oil and gas commissioner.”

  “Well, commission yourself up front to that table by the door. This one’s reserved for a woman who’s earned it by keeping your oil-and-gas ass safe.”

  After the waitress had chased the commissioner back to the front, Court asked, “Wonder who the celebrity is? Buffalo Bill?”

  “Woman was seated there last night. Maybe our age. Some kind of hotshot-like runner for the posts on the line. She looked pretty tough. Had that soldier’s stare like Hell had opened up and she’d stared into it for too long. Had some officer come chew her out for taking risks. The guy told her to go home. Didn’t look like she took it any too well.”

  Court had fixed on something over Sam’s shoulder. “She wear a motorcycle jacket? Brown hair?”

  “Yeah? So?”

  “So, here she comes. And, uh, if you ask me, she looks a little rocky. Like she tied one on last night.”

  Sam kept his eyes down as the woman stepped around their table and slung the heavy military bag onto the seat opposite her. She unslung a black military rifle and laid it atop the pack. Then she slid into the booth, back to the wall. For a moment she sat there, eyes closed, hands on the table as if to keep the room from spinning.

  Court and Sam fixed on the rifle where it sat so close at hand. Damn thing set his teeth on edge. Some kind of hero huh?

  The waitress was back, bearing coffee and a cup. “Good to see you’re up and about. Bess said you’d need coffee. The special for breakfast?”

  “You’re a Godsend, Jen. You see the sentry? Cap’s put a guard on my bike.”

  The waitress stared down, concern in her eyes. “You ask me, it’s about time they 86’d your ass off the line. Why Ragnovich lets you girls ride out there is beyond me. You’ve done enough. Kept people going through the tough—”

  “‘Scuse me. Be right back.” She almost ran for the women’s room.

  At Sam and Court’s stare, the waitress told them. “Not one damned word out of either of you, you hear me?.”

  “What’d she do?” Court asked.

  “She’s one of the Line riders. She single-handedly saved the I-25 check point. One of the posts was being hard pressed, she’d run ammo, water, food, whatever. Them frayed spots on her coat? They’re bullet holes, mister. They came that close to killing her.”

  “Sounds pretty tough.” Sam indicated the women’s room. “She all right?”

  “Bottle flu. It’ll pass.” Then Jenn hurried to the back, calling, “I need a special.”

  “Combat hazards of being a hero, I guess.” Court raised his eyebrows. “Any of that make any sense to you?”

  “A little. Agar’s taken some pretty extreme measures to keep the chaos south of the state line from rolling over the top of the people here. That captain last night, he was talking about armed dump trucks, fire fights. Sounded like the kind of talk you hear in a war zone.”

  “Here she comes.” Court averted his eyes as she reseated herself.

  Sam thought the brunette looked a little better; her face was freshly washed.

  Court swallowed hard, said, “Excuse me, but I’ve got aspirin if you’d like some.”

  Her eyes were dark around the edges of the iris and faded into a tan. Striking, actually. And hard when they pinned Court. Then a quiver of a smile bent her lips. “Yeah, thanks. My head feels like someone split it with an ax.”

  Aspirin. Was that another thing that they’d never see again?

  Court fished a bottle out of his pocket, uncapped it, and fiddled through a collection of pills until he had two aspirin. These he handed over.

  To Sam he said, “Mom’s a nurse. You think she’d send me off to Wyoming without a pharmacy?”

  Sam asked, “That’s your bike out front?”

  “Yeah.” She swallowed the aspirin, proving herself to be one of those tough kinds of people who didn’t need water to wash it down. This was followed by a resumption of the hard stare. “Do I know you?”

  “I was here last night. Left before you did.”

  “Before I ordered the whiskey. Yeah, must have been. That part of the evening’s a little fuzzy.” A beat. “Whiskey always gets me into trouble.”

  Again, that penetrating stare. “You’re not from around here. Got marooned passing through? If so, you’re doing better than most.”

  “Court and I were working on a project up in Hot Springs when the collapse happened. It’s sort of our new home.”

  Her eyes softened. “How are things there? People doing all right?”

  “Like everywhere,” Sam told her with a shrug. “Trying to hold it together. The basin has a chance. We’re down here with a delegation trying to put together a plan.”

  She blew on her coffee, took a sip, and let her eyes close. “God help us when this finally runs out. Mornings are going to be hideous after that.”

  Even as she said it, the ghosts were back; her gaze took on that thousand-yard stare. She might have been peering into Hell again.

  What was it she’d said last night? A little girl and a stuffed sheep? The brother, mother, and father dead of murder suicide? That she passed dead bodies every day? Shots fired? That she’d almost been killed how many times?

  “Sam asked softly, “Anything we can do?”

  She vaguely shook her head, eyes still unfocused.

  The waitress was back, setting two plates on the table. Sam and Court dove in. The meal consisted of steak, eggs, and potatoes. The former, so the Hilton claimed, were locally raised. The potatoes, they asserted, were freshly imported from Idaho.

  Wow. The new beginnings of interstate trade.

  It was maybe five minutes later. In an instant, the woman cried out, jerked half out of the booth, her hand clawing at a pistol that had been obscured by her coat. Even as Sam and Court started, she pulled up short, breathing hard. Her frantic eyes came into focus. She fixed on the room, on the people staring, and almost wilted into the bench.

  For a moment she sat there, hand to her heart, eyes wide. Sam heard her say, “It’s all right. I’m at the Hilton. It’s breakfast. It’s all right.”

  She glanced Sam’s way, actually blushing. “Sorry. I was just...I mean...” She swallowed hard. Forced herself to ease back on the bench.

  Yeah, sure. Sam figured he’d just seen a flashback. Like the kind that came with PTSD.

  Giving the woman a sidelong glance, it was to wonder: What the hell had she endured? And the frayed spot
s on her heavy fabric motorcycle jacket? Bullet holes?

  “Bill and Frank are coming through the door.” Court used his napkin to wipe his lips. “Got some kind of soldier with them, and Dr. Holly’s tagging along behind.”

  Sam craned his neck. Tried to make sense of the expressions on both Frank and Bill’s faces as they entered the restaurant. Something anxious, almost afraid, but incredibly desperate. Not at all like the Tappans he was used to.

  And yes, the soldier, he was that same captain from last night. Probably coming to check on the woman. Maybe ensure his orders were being followed?

  Glancing at the brunette, it was to see her frozen. Stunned, and wide-eyed. Her lips parted, her color draining.

  As Frank stopped short at the table, she asked, “Daddy?”

  “Hey, baby girl.”

  In a shot she was on her feet, locked in a desperate embrace, repeating, “I’m sorry. So, so sorry, Daddy.”

  Random Chance

  Survivor’s guilt? Divine intervention? Plain dumb luck? Chosen for a higher purpose? Who the hell knows? I was given another chance.

  Sometimes it takes the end of the world before what would have been an impossible chasm can be bridged. For me, it happened in a second. One moment I was contemplating inevitable surrender, the next I was forgiven.

  But for what?

  How did a family squabble—no matter how serious—compare to the atrocities I had committed? Callous and numb, I had turned myself into a self-destructive machine. As mindless as a drone, fixed on a mission without thought or care that it would ultimately destroy me. Don’t feel. Ignore any hint of humanity. Just do the job.

  Given my sins, why did I deserve a second chance?

  And how did I live with it?

  — Excerpt from Breeze Tappan’s Journal.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sam tried to keep from gaping as Frank and the young woman clutched each other with the passion of drowning victims.

  Frank’s daughter?

  This was the mysterious Breeze?

  The restaurant had come to a stop; people gazed upon the reunion with knowing smiles. A brief flicker of shared enjoyment in their expressions before they turned back to their meals and ever-so-precious coffee.

  Old Bill eased his way forward, laying a hand on the young woman’s shoulder, unwilling to separate her from Frank’s hug, but patting her fondly. “By God, girl, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you again.”

  “Grandpa?” She tore herself loose from Frank and threw her arms around Bill’s shoulders. For long moments they swayed back and forth, the woman’s eyes closed, her face awash with tears.

  Both Tappan men were sniffing, their own cheeks wet and shining.

  “Don’t break an old man’s ribs, Breeze,” Bill told her, finally pushing her back far enough to take a couple of swipes at his leathery cheeks.

  “Tappans can cry?” Court asked under his breath, awed. He and Sam had stood and retreated to give them room.

  “This is the mysterious Breeze?” Sam asked Evan, who was a couple of steps back, a curious twist to his lips.

  “Daughter. Brandon’s twin.”

  “And why have we never heard of her?” Court asked in his barely audible whisper.

  “Had a falling out about three years back.” Evan shrugged. “May Sarton once wrote: ‘Families murder each other.’ She was more right than wrong. A reason I’ve always steered clear of having one.”

  “Falling out? Over what?”

  Evan shrugged. “Guess whatever it was doesn’t matter anymore.”

  Ragnovich stepped close. Fixed on Breeze. “For everything, Miz Tappan.” He stiffened, knocked off a perfect salute. “It’s been both an honor and a privilege.”

  Breeze looked stunned, cheeks wet. Then the silence in the room was broken with applause. The captain pivoted on his heel, striding purposefully from the restaurant.

  “How’d you get out of Colorado?” Frank demanded. “You were in Colorado, right?”

  She shifted her hug from Bill back to Frank, saying, “Denver, Daddy. Yeah, I got out. Barely.”

  Frank, voice breaking, on the verge of tears again, said, “I was so scared. And your mother. We’ve spent the nights since this began... We prayed, Breeze. We hoped against hope. We’d have come. You have to know that. If we’d had a clue about where you were, we’d have moved heaven and earth to get to you.”

  “I know. I just couldn’t...” She fought tears again, gesturing helplessness. “How is mom?”

  “Leather and whipcord. Just a little older and tougher than she used to be. But hearing that you’re safe? She’ll feel ten years younger.”

  “And Brandon?”

  “Still half wildcat and complete hell on a horse,” Bill told her. “You know Brandon. Does it all his way. You’ll be proud, Breeze.”

  “And Celia?”

  “In town. Finishing high school. She’s living with Merlin and Patricia Smith. Wanted to be a beautician. She’ll be overjoyed to hear that you’re safe.”

  Breeze’s eyes, so similar to her father’s, narrowed. “She as much trouble as I was?”

  “Not by half!” Bill added with a snort, then he grinned wickedly. “Compared to you, she’s almost cussed boring.”

  Evan indicated Court and me. “Maybe we should get our own table. Let them have some time...”

  “Naw,” Bill grumbled, overhearing. “We’ll miss you and Court for the next week or so as it is. Let’s pull these tables together. In this case, the water under the bridge is so long gone it’s halfway to the Gulf.”

  As Sam helped pull the table against Breeze’s, Bill was saying, “Girl, I reckon you know Evan Holly, here. Family was working for him when everything went south. And these fellas, well, the skinny one is Sam Delgado. He’s an anthropology graduate student from New York. This big dude is Court Hamilton from Indiana. He’s a... Well, let’s say a logistical planner and Governor Agar’s new best friend. He and Evan are going to spend the next week in high-stakes-planning with the governor’s team.”

  Court was blushing bright red as he shook Breeze’s hand.

  When she turned to Sam, her gaze slipped away self-consciously. “Guess I made a hell of a first impression.”

  Sam grinned. “Made a few of my own.”

  “Jenn?” she called. “Coffee all around.”

  “Coming, Breeze!” the waitress chimed back with an obvious and new enthusiasm.

  Frank seated himself, a look of rapture on his face as he studied his daughter. “Captain Ragnovich just said, ‘There’s someone I want you to meet. I think it’s important.’”

  “Could have skinned me with a chainsaw when I saw who it was,” old Bill added in delight. “I served in the legislature with Doug Ragnovich. That man doesn’t have a frivolous or over-dramatic bone in his body. What the hell did you do? And that man don’t salute nobody but a superior.”

  Sam watched Breeze Tappan’s gaze harden. “I’m no hero. Everything I did, I was either scared to death, or being stupid.”

  For an instant, her expression failed, eyes revealing a flicker of desperation, then she pulled it together in an instant. If Sam hadn’t been watching so close, he might have missed it.

  The waitress delivered the coffee. As she did, old Bill looked at Court and said, “Just drink it. It’ll put hair on your chest.”

  Court frowned. “But I’ve got...”

  “Shhh!” Sam cut him off as Court pulled his shirt out and stared down the front.

  Breeze took a deep breath. “When I left, I went to Denver. Got accepted at University of Denver. It’s called the Daniels College of Business. One of the top-ranked business educations in the country.” She smiled sadly. “Hey, I’d made up my mind. I was headed for Wall Street. Get as far from the ranch, from Wyoming, and Hot Springs as I could.”

  Frank’s expression looked strained.

  “For the summer,” Breeze continued, “I took a job as an intern with Silver Pinnacle. In a branch office wo
rking for the broker. That’s where I was when everything fell apart. Danny, the guy I was dating, was in Florida on a consultation. Told me to get out of Denver. By the time I tried, I-25 was hopeless. Took the car back and got the bike. Three of us on motorcycles took the back roads through the mountains. Hit trouble. Jill... She turned tried to go south. Felix...he was a broker. Thought he could...” She winced. “They shot him for his bike.”

  The table was quiet. Breeze stared sightlessly. “Three guys with rifles. Felix never had a chance. They’d have shot me if I wasn’t a woman. You know what men do with women.”

  Sam ground his teeth, saw the anger stewing in Frank and Bill’s eyes. Court just stared into his untouched coffee.

  “I couldn’t stop the bleeding,” she said, voice distant. “Felix was scared. Like, he never thought...”

  “And these three guys?” Bill asked, voice gentle.

  “They didn’t know I had a pistol.” Her jaw muscles clenched, her gaze thinning.

  “Kill ‘em?” Bill asked.

  “Yes, okay? And that’s the last I’m going to talk about it!” she snapped back.

  Could I have done that? Sam wondered.

  Breeze seemed to shake it off, said, “At the border, it took a while. Had to talk my way through. Heard Ragnovich was allowing women with bikes to supply the line. Tried to do my share. I’d seen the shit coming down south of the line. Things you wouldn’t...” She gave a dismissive toss of the head, as if to rid herself of the memories.

  “And then there was the I-25 checkpoint. I did things. Men, women, and children. I held the line. Bought time for the Guard to plug the hole. But the time will come when God will judge me for that.”

  The tone and manner in which Breeze narrated it, she might have been in a trance, almost like a third party. Eyes vacant, the expression on her smooth face hiding a quiver in her deep muscles. The pain and loss, the horror, the distance she tried to keep and the way she understated it, became even more palpable.

  Men, women, and children? The way she’s talking, it’s like she killed them.

  “It was the little girl in the tent,” Breeze finished. “Maybe Ragnovich is right. Maybe I’ve lost my edge. It’s like I don’t know myself anymore. Not unless I’m on the bike. Running supplies to the posts. That’s the only time I’m alive.”