“Let’s hope they still have a working store with what we need for the boat. If there’s one thing I’ve learned since leaving Kentucky, it’s that nowhere is like it used to be. This place may look like a charming Colonial-era historic site, but I bet there are pirates around town, or basements filled with chained-up prisoners about to be eaten by cannibals.”
Butch laughed. “E-Z, do I detect fear?”
He had never subscribed to Susan’s over-the-top hatred for big cities, but he was affected by the robbery which threatened his daughter, too. While he never actively prevented Grace from going into towns like his wife often did, he was always wary of the types of people who could be in crowded cities. It was an observable fact there were more criminals inside cities, simply due to the greater number of citizens. St. Charles was no different, he was sure, no matter what it looked like on the outside.
The street was at least a mile long, with dozens of shops within their line of sight. He was hopeful one of them would have boat supplies, including the epoxy putty he needed for a permanent repair of those bullet holes. As they walked, he was disappointed to find sleepy antique shops, a closed bakery, and several shuttered cafes, but no sporting or boating stores. When they reached the end of the block, he stopped. “I can’t believe a town sitting on the river wouldn’t have anything for boaters.”
“You were looking for boat stuff? I was on the prowl for food. If this town has been spared, I want to cash in on some good grub…” Butch’s voice trailed off.
“What?” Ezra asked, following the other man’s line of sight. “Oh, crap. Look casual.”
A white police car with a blue swoosh on its side came around the corner of the next block. The two of them were on the wide sidewalk with nowhere to hide, so he nudged his friend to walk away from it.
“You think they’ll notice a couple of fine gentlemen out for a stroll?” Butch asked.
Ezra heard the engine of the cop car get closer. Ahead, there was a small walkway between two of the buildings, undoubtedly leading deeper into the town. He’d rather go back toward the river, but he wasn’t going to cross the street to do it. “Let’s go this way.”
Butch followed him into the narrow passage. The police car went by, leading Ezra to exhale in relief, but the scene ahead made him wonder if they’d been wrong about the nature of the town.
They came out of the gap between the old buildings to find a small well-kept yard and a narrow strip of pavement serving as the alleyway. More buildings were on the next block over. His attention went directly to a tanned woman nearby. She was hunched over, straining hard with a rope, as she dragged a mammoth-sized rubber tire behind her.
“What the hell is this? What kind of town are they running here?” He looked at Butch, then jogged over to the woman. She was about Grace’s age and of average height, but had muscle definition everywhere, built like a fitness instructor. She wore bright blue gym shorts and a gray T-shirt, though they were soaked with sweat from her exertion.
“E-Z, I think this is—” Butch tried to say.
“Ma’am, do you need help?” he asked, certain this new town had some sick method of punishment.
The woman glared at him but didn’t stop her pulling effort.
“Ezra. She doesn’t need any help because she’s—”
He didn’t have time to think it through. The police car appeared at the end of the alleyway, behind the young woman. “We’ve got to keep moving. They’re coming.”
Ezra ran by the struggling lady, surprised to find himself breathing as raggedly as her. The shock of being chased had sent his flight response into adrenaline-doused overdrive.
“Sorry for bothering you, ma’am.” Butch tipped his cowboy hat to the woman before catching up to Ezra.
She grunted words in reply, though he couldn’t make them out. His focus was on the police car coming toward them from down the lane. They had to use the terrain to their advantage if they wanted to avoid whatever hassle the cops were planning to dish out. One street over, and he’d double back through another slot canyon between the buildings…
His heart rattled like a machine gun. “I don’t think they’re going to leave us alone, do you?” He led Butch into another gap between the buildings on the next street.
Butch didn’t answer. He followed Ezra into the walkway half-heartedly, but the big man was still watching the young woman pull the tire. Ezra wondered if he was thinking about freeing her, relieving her from the sick punishment, though it also seemed to distract him. For the first time since they’d met, Butch didn’t have his eye on the prize, and it rubbed Ezra the wrong way.
“Come on, Butch, stay with me.”
His friend finally turned around, wearing a wry smile, though it fell away as he looked forward. Ezra interpreted it as a warning. Something had instilled anxiety in Butch’s eyes.
When he faced ahead, Ezra realized Butch wasn’t the only person who’d been looking the wrong way. He’d walked right into a second police cruiser. An officer had parked and was already out and waving him to come closer.
The chase was over before it could even start.
Was his punishment going to include pulling a huge tire?
Chapter 8
Thornton, CO
The incident with the two boys shook Grace to her foundation, and not simply because she’d almost died. Shockingly, near-death experiences were becoming the norm. What worried her was how fast society was breaking down, especially in a city she imagined would be their refuge. The traffic jam heading to the airport would never have happened a week ago. Kids throwing cinder blocks onto the highway, with no one to stop them, was far-fetched craziness a week ago. “We aren’t going to make it in this city. Not if every overpass and highway is broken down and dangerous.”
She stood next to her beat-up Chevy, looking down the highway to the west. Asher appeared beside her. “What are you looking at?” He paused, then chuckled. “You thinking about walking the bike path down there?”
Grace got her bearings by following his line of sight. The highway came out from the overpass, went down a slight incline, and crossed a broad, shallow creek. She’d seen it when she passed through the first time. It was mostly rock and trees, with little water, but there was a paved trail running alongside it. Once she established the stream and trail seemed to flow to the south, into the sprawl of metropolitan Denver, she snapped her fingers. “Ash, you’re a genius!”
Without missing a beat, he held up his watch. “Could you repeat yourself? I’d like to record.”
“You’re a genius,” she said with a smile. “We can leave the highway and drive down there, by the river. Does it go all the way to downtown?” Asher was supposedly a Denver native, so her eyes fell on him.
“I think so. There are bike paths all over out here. It’s kind of our thing. There’s a trail that goes along a creek next to downtown. It’s probably this one.”
Downtown Denver appeared as a faint rise of concrete and steel in the haze about fifteen miles away. The creek and path were lost in the clutter not far from where they stood, though it was easy to imagine it going the entire distance. “Good enough for me.” She turned to Shawn and Logan. “You guys okay if we take a little detour?”
Shawn spoke for them both. “As long as we’re heading downtown, any detour is fine with us. I don’t know how well we’re going to fit on a bike trail, but it has to be faster than going back to the clogged highway.”
Once Grace had a plan, she shook off any misgivings and drove with purpose. Since there were no traffic laws in effect, it was a simple matter of driving down the side of the toll road’s right-of-way and onto the white concrete slabs of the bicycle path. Unlike the rest of the area, the stream bank was overgrown with trees. It only took a few seconds to lose sight of the highway behind them.
“This is going to work,” she remarked. “This path is about the same width as a highway lane. We should have no problem using this route.”
“Ah, yeah,” A
sher said, pointing to a sign next to the path. “This is the South Platte River, like I thought. It’s the same one that goes downtown. This river flows into Nebraska, then into the Missouri River, and then the Mississippi.”
She immediately saw the connection. “You mean my dad could bring his boat all the way up here?”
Shawn snorted. “Ha! Not here. The water is only ankle-deep. Your father won’t make it out of Nebraska with a boat, unless it’s a dingy. It’s too shallow for anything bigger.”
“How could you possibly know?” she asked.
He smiled in her rearview mirror. “Water is a big deal when you live and farm in the high plains. We pay attention to things of that nature. Besides, I’m chairman of my tribe. I know people who know people.”
“Well, that sucks,” she said dryly, before catching herself. “I don’t mean what you said sucked. I’m saying it sucks my dad will run out of water before he gets here. I wonder if he knows?”
Shawn waved politely. “I knew what you meant. If he’s taking a boat as far as you say, I’m sure he has a plan in place for when it gets too shallow. I wouldn’t worry about him, though maybe you should. Perhaps I’m selfishly pulling you away from your goal of finding your father. We could always get out—”
“No,” Logan pleaded. “Well, I mean…Grace has found a way for us to travel safely. I vote we stay with her.”
Grace flicked her hair out of the way as she glanced at Logan in the backseat. She saw a familiar look in his eyes and the same crooked smile he’d flashed at her back on the bridge. He’d been impressed to see her holding the gun, and he was impressed again at her take-charge attitude as she broke all the road rules. His awestruck demeanor wasn’t unlike that of many teen boys, and more than a few men, she’d encountered during her duties in Yellowstone.
She had a fan.
St. Charles, MO
The policeman exited his vehicle and came toward Ezra, but he didn’t have his weapon out, which was a relief. It presented a small window of time to think about pushing the cop back and making a run for it. However, it seemed like a low-percentage move. Pulling tires was better than going to prison or getting shot. “We’re new to town,” he started, hoping the officer would meet his friendly tone.
“No joke. We got word two men with guns had come into the tent camp. We came out to collect them, but you were gone. All we need is those two rifles and we can be on our way.” The officer pointed to his poncho.
He laughed nervously. “You heard about us, huh?”
The officer was young and alert, constantly looking up and down the street and through the passageway to the woman in the alley. He wore a dark blue uniform with a long-sleeved shirt and navy-blue tie, along with a heavy black utility belt stuffed with a radio, sidearm, and multiple mags. His brown hair was cut short on top and almost shaved on the sides of his head. After an extended look toward the tire-pulling woman, he nodded to Ezra. “Most people walk in from St. Louis using the bridges, not the shoreline, so we almost missed you. You must have come a long way.”
“We’re from Kentucky,” he said dryly, hoping they’d extend a welcome mat, not handcuffs. If necessary, he had his driver’s license to prove it.
“Hmph,” the man responded, barely interested.
Two minutes later, he and Butch were stripped of their most valuable and useful tools. The pair of ARs were tossed into the trunk of the cruiser. The officer affixed two pieces of paper to the guns, then jotted words on a notepad.
“You’re writing us a receipt?” Butch asked with surprise.
“Yep. When the national emergency is over, you’ll be able to come to the station and reclaim your property. From the get-go, St. Charles has made sure no guns could be sold to civilians from any of the local stores. We aim to keep the city as free of violence as we can. Thanks for playing your part.”
“Don’t mention it,” Ezra replied sarcastically.
The officer had no sense of humor. “If you see anyone with a gun while walking around our town, give us a call and we’ll come and help. No need to disarm them on your own.”
Ezra laughed to himself. The man believed he was now going to cooperate in the disarming of other citizens. His thoughts went the complete opposite direction; he wondered where he could find replacements.
The cop handed over the two receipts, then he got back in his car and sped away. The second pursuit vehicle remained on station at the end of the block, though it followed the first car once it left the street.
Ezra turned to Butch. “Well. This isn’t going the way I expected.”
“Who do you think turned us in?” the big guy mused. “Was it the man in the chair? If so, maybe we should return the favor.”
He sighed. “He’d be my first guess, but we’ll never know. Maybe someone else saw us while we talked to him. I should have seen this coming, especially after almost losing our guns back in St. Louis. I guess I thought the worst was over…”
Butch rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, since we’re already here, we should ask someone where to find a boat store. We’ll have to do it without our guns, but maybe it’ll be okay. If the whole town has been disarmed, at least we don’t have to worry about being shot.” Butch took a step backward into the gap between the two buildings.
“Unless they have knives, or a crossbow, or a taser.”
“We’ll ask her if there’s anywhere we can buy a gun.”
“Her?” Ezra challenged.
Butch smiled. “Or him. We’ll ask anyone we find where we should go.” He took a few more steps into the narrow alley, and Ezra finally caught on.
“Oh. Her.” He followed Butch and his Stetson back toward the alleyway. As he expected, the young woman was still there, though she was no longer pulling on the rope. She sat on the huge tire, wiping her face with a white towel.
“Um, excuse me, ma’am,” Butch said with a friendly wave. “We’re lost.”
She checked out Butch, seeming to pass favorable judgement, then replied. “Will you help me roll this thing into my garage? It’s right over there.” She pointed to a small white outbuilding next to the narrow, paved lane. Other single-car garages dotted the backyards of the buildings on both sides, though some yards were empty.
Butch practically jumped in excitement. “Sure, we’ll help.” Without waiting for Ezra, the two youngsters lifted the five-foot-tall tire on its end, then rolled it into the open garage. When it was situated where she wanted, she glanced at Ezra. “You and milk jug want something to eat?”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, not quite certain if he’d heard her correctly. “I’m Ezra, by the way.”
She pulled out her towel and wiped sweat from both arms and her sun-kissed face. “Ezra? That’s an odd name. Never heard it before.” Her nose turned up when she got close to him, but she was too polite to say anything about how his clothes smelled.
“I’m Butch,” he added before Ezra could say another word. “J.J. Butcher, actually, but everyone calls me Butch.”
It got him curious. “What’s the J.J. stand for?”
Butch had to rip his eyes off the healthy young lady, but the question seemed to catch him off guard. He spoke a bit on the quiet side, like someone might overhear a secret. “The Js? They stand for Jebediah Jesse. I hate it.”
Ezra continued. “Jebediah Jesse Butcher. I think it has a nice ring to it.”
The girl cracked up. “Do you two know each other?”
He and Butch shared a bemused look. “Yeah,” he replied, “but, to be fair, most of our time together has been on the run from pirates.”
“Pirates? Wow, this should be good. Let me get some food and I’ll bring it out to you. My name’s Haley, by the by.” She glided across the grass of her yard, went up a small flight of wooden steps, then she was gone.
When he looked over to Butch, he saw the young man hadn’t stopped watching Haley. It would have been obvious from space how smitten Butch was with the young woman. Ezra suddenly realized he had a whole new s
et of challenges on his hands.
Denver, CO
Mr. Stricker sat at a desk with a laptop in front of him. “Dorothy helped me draft this digital contract while we were in our, uh, meeting. She said you asked her to write up a statement assigning full legal rights and ownership of all remnants of 586001 Tuonela as belonging to TKM Mining.” He pointed to the relevant passage in the document.
He hadn’t specifically asked her to write anything up, but he was pleased to know she’d taken the initiative. Even when going into a meeting she obviously didn’t want to attend, she’d had the foresight to draw up what was required to close the deal. He acknowledged he needed to give her a begrudging thanks for her efforts, when she came out of hiding. “All very good,” he said, glancing at it, before adding, “And what of the communications blackout?”
Stricker scrolled through the document until he found what he wanted. “Here is where the US government has authorized the pause in broadcasting.” He’d emphasized the last few words. “We call it that because we aren’t stomping on anyone’s broadcast license, nor are we stopping the flow of free speech. If we’d gone down such a path, it would likely end up getting slapped with an injunction from some circuit court judge. This way, we bill it as a temporary measure intended to allow us, the US government, to communicate quickly and effectively to the threatened population in these middle states. You’ll get what you want, and I’ll keep the Congress off my back.”
“You know this political stuff better than me,” Petteri fibbed, doing his best to sound sincere. He’d been around the game long enough to know most of the players in the administrative roles surrounding the government. Buying off those people had given him the most bang for his dollar, as opposed to politicians who were voted out at the most inconvenient times.
Stricker studied him for a moment, then continued scrolling. “And these last few pages give TKM the sole authority to carry firearms within the first mile around each of the locations you’ve given me. This was phrased in such a way as to ensure you have the right to defend yourself. Beyond the one-mile limit, we’ve formalized existing directives for police and other local authorities to temporarily confiscate all firearms carried outside the home, though citizens have the right to keep firearms inside their living spaces. Dorothy said it was important to not infringe on the rights of the 2nd Amendment types, and this does that perfectly. Such a smart girl.”
Crush: Impact Book 4: (A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller Series) Page 6