Impact Series Box Set | Books 1-6

by Isherwood, E. E.

  “You mean I could help them hide?” she asked in a neutral tone.

  He sensed his cheeks burn red. A second refusal would be a trend. There might be no one in the neighborhood, besides him, who wanted to offer some charity. There was no way to fit them all in one basement. “That’s correct. I’m over at Roger’s next door. We’re going to open the basement for a small group of survivors. I was hoping you’d be interested in helping another group.”

  “Of course, I would. The good book is very clear on feeding those who are hungry. Sheltering those who are homeless. You know?”

  He nodded with enthusiasm. “Oh, I know. This is wonderful. I’ll let you know as soon as I can how we’re going to do this. Will you be home for the next few hours?”

  “If there’s another explosion coming, I won’t be going anywhere.”

  I’m not crazy, he thought. He left Mrs. Elsworth’s house with a spring in his step, confident he could rescue some of the stranded people, but when he got to the front walkway of Roger’s house, he was surprised to see the familiar pink pants of Brenda Bowden. She stood on the front porch, next to Susan, wearing her familiar scowl.

  “Where the hell have you been?” the woman snapped. “I need that list. And where’s Ethel? She’s the last person I need to interview. I’d also like to see Roger. I’m beginning to think you haven’t been truthful about why you are here in his house.”

  Chapter 14

  Yellowstone

  Grace realized Asher was right; they had to go out the front door and be seen. Then, once outside, she ran with him as fast as possible toward the busier part of the tourist village. When they made it inside the crowd, she figured it would be easy to lose their pursuer.

  “Come on, keep up!” she insisted. Asher still wore his gray attire, including the long-sleeve suit jacket and leather shoes, which worked to slow him down. After crossing the street and going back into the yards she’d driven through earlier, she had to slow down.

  He wiped the sweat from his brow. “I’m sorry. I’m not in great shape like you are. I mainly work indoors.”

  “I can see that,” she said to be funny. “Maybe lose the heavy coat?”

  It never got Kentucky-summer hot in Yellowstone National Park. The high elevation and northern latitude kept the temperatures reasonable in the summer and bitterly cold in the winter. Today was one of the hotter summer days; the late afternoon sunshine made it feel every bit of eighty degrees, and the running only added to it.

  Grace expected some resistance to the idea, but he ripped off his jacket and tossed it in a trash receptacle as they ran by. Half a minute later, she couldn’t stop herself from getting ahead, so she slowed to pace him again. “Feel better?”

  “Not really. I don’t think my coat was the problem. You might have been right about the smoking. I can barely breathe.”

  Between the high elevation and his smoker’s lungs, it made sense. He wasn’t simply an out-of-shape city boy. He had two additional anchors weighing him down. She was at a loss for how to react when he surprised her by tossing over a clear, blue cigarette lighter. “I’m quitting.”

  Her instinct was to find the next trash can and toss the lighter, but all thoughts of trash went away when she saw the distinctive straw hat of a ranger ahead. “Holy cow! We’ve got some help!”

  She pointed where to go, and they sprinted toward the intersection where the park ranger police officer directed traffic waiting in all four directions. Grace arrived about twenty seconds before Asher.

  “Are you a ranger?” she said between deep breaths. The man wasn’t wearing a uniform, other than his wide-brimmed park hat and a thick black belt with his police gear, including a gun and a radio. His pink-and-yellow Hawaiian shirt clashed with his jean shorts and red flip-flops and hinted that he’d come directly from a hot tub.

  “Of course I am. I’m supposed to be off today, but I heard the park had gone crazy.” He looked at his dress. “I didn’t have time to change, or even check in. The cars at this intersection almost got into a demolition derby.”

  It explained why Tessa didn’t know about him, but it didn’t really matter. Grace had her help.

  “Sir, my friend and I are being chased by an assassin. He’s dressed in—” she scanned the crowd, frantically searching for a black suit and navy tie. “He’s dressed formally.”

  The man eyed up Asher. “Like your boyfriend, here?”

  “We’re not—” she tried to reply.

  “Save it. Just keep moving. I can’t have you in this intersection. If you get hurt, that’s on me.”

  “Sir,” Asher pressed, anxiously rubbing his watch. “There’s a representative from Tikkanen Kinetic Mining after us. He’s got a gun and isn’t afraid to use it.” Asher also looked all around, as if Misha would be standing in the crowd waiting to be found.

  “It’s true,” Grace assured him. “We went to the station. There’s no one on duty except for the dispatcher. We really need your help against this guy.”

  A white pickup truck drove through the intersection; it pulled a long camper behind it, which nearly struck Grace. The officer saw it, too. “Both of you have got to let me do my job. Get over to the curb and out of my street.”

  She was tired of being blown off. “But sir!” she shouted. “I’m Ranger Grace Anderson. I order you to help us!”

  The officer waved a couple of cars through, then got up close to her and Asher. She believed she’d struck a chord and he was going to help them out of professional courtesy. Instead he pulled out his radio and called back to the police station.

  “Tess, this is Kevin. I’m on duty right outside your door. Listen, I’ve got a campfire girl here with her man-friend. They tell me they’re being chased by someone from a mining company. Have you heard about this?” The officer stared at Grace as he waited for the response.

  She clenched her jaw, struggling with everything she had not to complain about being called a campfire girl. The disparaging name was sometimes used by the law enforcement people to refer to the interpretive rangers. She admitted many rangers were pushovers, and afraid of violence of any kind, but she didn’t want to be like that. She’d shot guns. Handled knives. Done her time surviving in the woods of Kentucky. She was more than a campfire girl.

  The radio chirped, then Tess replied. “Yeah, they were here a little while ago, then they ran out the front door. Were in here for a couple of hours, actually.”

  “Did you see anyone chasing them?” he asked.

  “Nope,” she replied instantly with a curt laugh. “Just me and a thousand tourists on the phone who want the impossible. If you see them, though, ask them to come get their truck. The trainee ranger hasn’t learned how to park yet, I guess. She left hers on the sidewalk in front of my doors.”

  Grace froze at the word trainee. What would Asher think?

  “I’ll tell them. Thanks. Out.” The officer slung his radio in his belt, then traded glances with her and Asher. “It sounds like you two should move along.” His eyes settled on Grace. “You are supposed to be with a supervisor at all times. It sounds like you need to get back over to the campground and investigate the snipes.”

  “I, uh—” she stuttered. A man in a red shirt caught her attention as he came up behind the officer. At first, it looked like he’d gotten out of the lead car waiting at the intersection, but the man’s face was unmistakable; Misha must have taken a shirt from a tourist. He could do it, too, based on what he had in his hand. “A gun!” she shouted.

  The officer reacted half-heartedly, like she was pranking him for busting her on the radio. Misha fired his handgun from thirty feet away and the park officer took it in the back.

  “No!” she shouted as he collapsed into her arms.

  Everyone standing on the surrounding sidewalks screamed in panic, and the cars at the intersection treated the gunshot like the start of a race. Three or four cars accelerated into the intersection, nearly crushing her in the middle. Inside the whirl of chaos, she let t
he man slide down her legs and fall to the ground.

  “We have to run!” Asher said in a high-pitched voice.

  The officer’s forehead thumped on the pavement. Even in those few seconds, she thought he appeared dead. She let him go, searching for the man in the red shirt; he seemed to be caught behind a moving car. Since there was nothing she could do for the officer, she grabbed Asher’s hand and pulled him in the opposite direction.

  “Stay low!” she barked.

  Kentucky

  “Ethel and Roger are here. Both of them passed away.” Ezra stood on Roger’s dock with Susan and Babs. It pained him to see the two frail bodies wrapped in common linens, but he blamed Babs for the need; she’d put him at odds with his neighbors when they should have all been pulling together. He thanked his lucky stars he’d thought to put them there, so he didn’t have to explain why Ethel was on his boat dock. It would have put him at more of a disadvantage with his old friends.

  “How did she die?” Babs’s question was steeped in suspicion.

  “Heartbreak,” Susan replied.

  Ezra and Babs both watched Susan for the expected explanation, when Babs seemed to run out of patience. “That won’t do,” the other woman said with concern. “What am I going to tell the others? They’ll want a real reason.” Her tone of voice when speaking with Susan was only slightly less condescending than when she spoke with him. He always wrote it off to the fact Susan tried harder at being nice in return, but he also harbored suspicions Babs simply didn’t like free-thinking men.

  Susan spoke with her head bowed toward Ethel. “Her husband was dead. She was injured in the blast, too. I guess she figured there was nothing left to live for. It happens all the time with couples who have been married for decades.”

  Ezra saw what his wife had done. She’d tactfully pointed out something Babs would know nothing about. The distasteful woman had been married twice, but neither lasted more than a year or two, and she bore no children. He figured he had a pretty solid idea as to why.

  “Well, I’ve got to do something.” Babs walked down the ramp of the boat dock. “Come with me…” she hesitated for five seconds before adding, “please.”

  If he’d known what was coming, he would have stayed in Roger’s house, rather than following her. Over the next fifteen minutes, Babs managed to dredge up enough people for an impromptu town hall meeting. About twenty-five residents gathered at the corner of the two streets before Babs’s voice announced its start.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, you all know me. You know our neighbors, Ezra and Susan. You also knew Roger and Ethel, both of whom are dead.” A few people gasped. “Ezra has them wrapped in blankets on Roger’s dock like, like, lepers, or whatever.”

  Ezra jumped in. “Whoa! It’s not like that. He died in a fall down his stairs yesterday. I spoke with him before he passed. He refused medical treatment because he wanted me to take care of Ethel for him.”

  “A job which you failed at,” Babs replied, imitating a courtroom lawyer.

  “She made it over to my house, sure enough. I had to tell her Roger didn’t survive his fall; she took it pretty hard. Suze and I made her comfortable out on my dock, where we all spent the night. She died in the overnight hours, probably of heartbreak, like my better half just explained to Babs.”

  Babs raised her hands to quiet some of the chattering going on in the crowd. “That’s one important fact I needed to share, and I need to remind everyone Ezra and Susan are no longer members of this subdivision. They were supposed to leave today. This is why we shouldn’t listen to what he has to say about those people up on the road. If he didn’t use common sense and seek help for his longtime neighbors, why should any of us listen to him about those people?”

  “Now, hold on a minute,” Ezra replied with rising anger. “There’s a meteor heading this way, and it might be as bad as the one which hit Paducah last night. I’ve been telling anyone here in Happy Cove who would listen we have to find shelter. All I want to do is give those other people a chance for one night. I don’t see how I can make it any plainer.”

  He hoped some of his old neighbors would rise up and voice support. Most of them stood in the grass looking ill at ease. It was like Babs had power over them. True to form, she spoke up in her as-if-it-wasn’t-obvious voice.

  “Oh, you’ve made it plain enough. Something’s going to happen tonight, but it has nothing to do with meteorites.” She looked at her people. “I want to get some men and women up at the top of the hill who have guns. You know, just in case someone gives them the idea to come down here.”

  Ezra slowly clapped a few times as if his hands were lathered in sarcasm. “You’re finally going to do what I suggested hours ago. Only this time you want the guns to be turned on me. Great job, people. We have an honest-to-God emergency right here in Kentucky, and you’re following this woman like she’s going to put a lien on your house for bad behavior. I’ll be glad to get out of this place if this is what passes for leadership.”

  Susan clapped once, maintaining her one-upmanship in their longtime game. He gave her a Seriously? Even now? glance, then relaxed when she flashed a I’m with you to the end smile. She stepped next to him and wrapped her arm around his waist, offering reassurance he’d done right by at least one person in the crowd.

  Babs was unperturbed. “Watch yourself, Mr. Anderson.”

  Ezra was stunned how easily Babs had turned public opinion against him, but he didn’t raise his voice or argue with her in public. Instead, he waited a suitable amount of time, then turned with Susan and headed back to Roger’s. Along the way, his stubborn attitude went into overdrive figuring out how he could help those people while proving to his doubting neighbors he wasn’t a friend-killing traitor. Babs hadn’t used those words. Her implication was clear enough.

  “What are you going to do?” Susan asked, when they were clear of the others.

  “No, Mrs. Anderson. What are we going to do?”

  She hugged him while walking. Having one person believe in him made all the difference in the world, even if he had no idea what to do.

  In flight to TKM Pacific Launch Facility

  Petteri’s flight crew worked feverishly to get him a direct line of encrypted communications up to his mining spacecraft. He watched as his orders were relayed from his plane, to the operations center in south Texas, and finally to the Petteri-2. After about thirty seconds of test patterns and garbled static on his custom-built computer tablet, Captain Jim Davis finally appeared on the video link.

  “Mr. Petteri, to what do I owe this honor?” Davis said in a respectful tone.

  He studied the captain for a few moments. He’d met him before launch time last year; the pilot had been bright-eyed and filled with confidence. Now, on his screen, the other man’s eyes were droopy and bloodshot, and his five o’clock shadow looked as if it had slept in the next day. If he’d gotten any sleep over the past forty-eight hours, it didn’t show.

  “This is a secure line, Captain. Nice to see you again, though I’m disappointed to learn the Tuonela still isn’t in line for a parking orbit.” It was a bit of political theater; Petteri already knew it was impossible for Davis to accomplish his original mission.

  Davis raked his fingers through his hair. “We’re still trying, sir. We blew the engines perfectly. It just didn’t move the way we thought it would.”

  Petteri did his best to remain stoic. “Never mind what happened. I have some updated telemetry data I’m sending you.” After his talk with Dorothy, he’d sent her math over to a trusted man in the operations center to see if it matched with their data. His sincere hope was the cocky young woman was wrong about the chances of getting the rock into orbit around the Earth, but the man thought she was right.

  “Sir, I do have it, but we’re still on this. We’ll get the rock into the appropriate orbital approach even if we have to burn hard for the rest of the flight.”

  He needed to stay two steps ahead of the potential PR disaster. Step one
had been maintaining the appropriate fiction with the crew of the spaceship for as long as possible, since their mission was being broadcast around the world. He’d intercepted mass and geology data before Davis could relay it to Earth, since that would tip his hand with the press. However, the final hours of the Petteri-2’s flight were his to control. Sadly, he depended on the same crew which messed up the simple task of crashing the asteroid on the moon.

  “Is the ship still operating within tolerances?” he asked the face on the video screen.

  “Yes, sir. Between your boys down there, and my boys and girls up here, we’ll park this wild bronco right where she needs to go.” He got closer to the screen. “I’ve got to tell you, sir, after the Tuonela split apart, I thought Earth was doomed. It’s terrible what happened in Illinois and Kentucky, so thank God we’re going to keep this one in space.”

  He sighed heavily, sure the other man wasn’t going to like his next words. “I’ve got new orders for you. I’m sending you additional telemetry on this private link. Enter it into your computer, look it over, and then tell me you understand your mission going forward. And, Captain, from this point forward consider this for your eyes only.”

  “Aye, sir,” Davis replied in a tired voice.

  The other man maneuvered inside his cramped craft as he transferred the data from his terminal into the computer. Petteri became impatient watching the man work, until eventually he turned back to the screen. “Sir, this can’t be right. Can you confirm?”

  “I can. The Tuonela is going to break up when it reaches near-Earth orbit. When that happens—” he mimed an explosion with his hands so Davis could see it. “Your crew can’t stop it; no one can. All we can do now is determine where it comes down and at what angle it hits us.”

  Captain Davis tapped at his keyboard, then turned to the screen. “All of it was for nothing? How long have you known?” His tone was accusatory, as Petteri expected. He’d only known for sure for a short time. Dorothy’s greed might have saved them all.