Outside Red Lodge, MT
They left the police station disappointed; at least, she did. She’d called emergency services in Fairdealing, Kentucky, to see if they could track down her dad, but some civilian answered the phone. The woman explained none of the firefighters had come back, and there were no police in the area, either. No one was available to find her parents. The Red Lodge police assured her they’d keep her information on file and perhaps try dialing the number in another week, but otherwise they were out of ideas.
She and Asher got back in the truck, intent on catching up with the convoy. While they’d been inside the station, a snowplow had come through and cleared the main street, so she was able to go the speed limit through town.
“There!” Asher pointed ahead when they’d gone a short way out of the city limits. The tail end of the convoy was pulled over on the wide shoulder next to a tree-lined creek. The rest of the cars were there, apparently, though it was hard to see the front due to the continuing snowfall and darkened skies.
“I’ll be. They did wait for us.” Grace was tempted to drive to the front of the line and lead them again, but one of the last messages Tessa had shared was that the hitman was no longer in her vehicle. It was time to find out where he’d gone. She pulled over at the end of the line, behind a teal pickup truck with two people inside the cab. “Will you get out and walk with me?”
“Can I take pictures?”
“Knock yourself out,” she said, willing to allow anything as long as she didn’t have to walk alone.
“Then I’m there!”
They grabbed their hats; Asher tipped his forward a little, making himself look fashionable. They shared a moment. “You play the part pretty well,” she declared.
He touched the brim of his hat and drawled, “Ma’am.”
Grace rolled her eyes, then hopped out. She and Asher trudged through the foot of snow to stand on opposite sides next to the pickup. When the man behind the wheel noticed her, he rolled his window down.
“Good to see you, Ranger. Sorry we took off, but it looks like everyone is waiting for you to get back in line.” The man was in his late twenties or early thirties. A pretty blonde woman sat in the middle of the bench seat, like she was using him to stay warm. It was easy to confirm there was no room for a hitman to hide inside the small cabin.
She tried to think of something legitimate and non-threatening to explain what she was up to. “We’re doing a quick check of everyone before we move on. Hang tight until I get back, all right?”
“Hurry. I need gas,” he replied before rolling up his window.
One more problem.
Grace scurried to the next car. Asher followed on the far side of the vehicles. She quietly instructed him what to do. “Look in the cars from that side, Ash. Truck beds, too. He has to be in one of these up ahead.”
The convoy had been whittled down to about twenty cars and trucks. She was sure the Russian agent was inside one of them. He was being paid to track and eventually kill her and Asher. That alone rubbed her the wrong way, and she mentally practiced yanking out the pistol to shoot him, if necessary. There was no way she’d play the victim and hide from him forever.
Ten minutes later, after running from one car to the next, she reached a silver heavy-duty Ford F-350 pickup truck in the front. It chugged out heavy diesel exhaust; she got a face full of it before walking next to the driver’s door. A woman rolled down the window when Grace arrived.
“You the ranger we been waiting for?” The curly-haired brunette driver was riding with a pre-teen girl. She talked like she was a local rancher, as opposed to an out-of-state tourist. When Grace peeked into the truck bed, there were horse saddles and muddy boots mixed with layers of wet snow.
“Yep. You’re the last vehicle I needed to inspect.” She tried not to sound disappointed Misha wasn’t inside or in the cargo area. Somehow, he’d avoided her. “Where are you going, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Billings. Me and my daughter took a day trip to Yellowstone before the big Montana Stockade Rodeo that was supposed to happen this week. Looks like we already missed a day, but we intend to get back anyway.”
Grace wondered if the rodeo could possibly still be happening, but she was too distracted by the missing assassin to suggest it to the two women. Asher’s face appeared on the other side of the truck, looking equally as confused as her.
“I’m going back to my truck. When I pass by, I’ll toot my horn. You drop in behind me. Billings is only fifty miles down the road.” She walked in front of the Ford and met up with Asher.
He spoke at whisper. “I didn’t see him. You think he’s gone?”
She motioned him the way they’d come. “Remember these cars if you can. We’ll count them. If we see a new car show up, we’ll check to see if he’s hiding inside. I’m sure he’ll try to get back to us.”
“How can you be so sure? Maybe he figured you two were even after helping out with the ropes for the tires. By the way, don’t tell him I said so, but he saved some of our lives, for sure. Is it possible he turned over a new leaf?”
She laughed. “We can dream, can’t we?”
A short time later, she crossed a set of footprints leading from a station wagon she’d already checked. “Hold on,” she insisted as she pulled out the borrowed pistol and aimed it ahead of her. Grace then hopped through the deeper snow next to the road going away from the cars. After about fifty feet, she reached the bank of a small creek. The footprints disappeared.
“Where are you?” she fumed.
Asher came up next to her, but she waved him back toward the convoy with a “be quiet” gesture. When they reached the station wagon again, she tapped on the window, putting the gun away before addressing the people inside.
“Excuse me, but did someone get out of your car?” She’d already talked to them on the walk to the front of the line, but the presence of the tracks changed everything.
“Yes. A man got out, maybe ten minutes ago.” The older man and woman in the front seat traveled with two teen-looking boys in the back. Neither of the kids looked up at her; they were tapping on their phones.
“Why didn’t you mention him earlier when we talked?” she asked in frustration.
“You said you were checking on us so we could move on; we trust you know what you’re doing to help us get to safety. Our passenger got out here because he said he lived in one of those houses across the creek. You saved him.” The man pointed, but it was hard to see any structures through the trees. “I didn’t see why you’d be interested in a guy you already helped.”
She sighed, mad at herself, not the man.
“Thank you for trusting me to lead you, sir. We’re getting out of here in two minutes. We’re not stopping until we’re all safe in Billings, exactly like that man who found his home here.”
“About time!” the guy said happily.
One of the boys in the back seat sarcastically added, “Hurray! We’re finally getting somewhere.”
Grace lamented how that carefree attitude described her about a year ago. It seemed like a lifetime since she’d been home with her parents. Safe.
Paducah, KY
Ezra couldn’t tell when they left the Tennessee River and joined the Ohio; the confluence of the two rivers was well below them. He knew the city of Paducah was built at the intersection of the two channels, giving him at least one identifiable landmark.
“We’re above Third Street,” he said dryly. “We’re floating the Ohio River by going through town.”
Paducah was situated behind a fourteen-foot concrete floodwall to protect it from normal river flooding. As soon as they got close enough to see the small downtown, Ezra knew for certain the barrier had done little to protect the city. He confirmed it when the barge carried them past the tops of a half-dozen three-story oil storage containers.
The small city wasn’t built with skyscrapers or giant hotels. Instead, it was graced with old two-story brick buildings and street
s filled with little tourist boutiques, making it quaint and charming to most visitors. He and Susan had gone there often to shop for antiques or little knickknacks. The intact buildings were mostly underwater, leaving rows and columns of damaged rooftops, broken treetops, and the upper parts of stout telephone poles. None of the remaining trees had leaves, nor were any of the structures in sight left without damage from the fallen asteroid.
“Hey, look!” Butch said, pointing toward a tall maroon structure close to the river. “People are still alive!”
He saw them. A handful of survivors on top of the rectangular, windowless building sticking out of the roaring floodwaters. They waved to Ezra and Butch, but he was a block over and riding a cargo barge that had no engine. The johnboat remained tethered to the ladder, and it might have been possible to use it to go over there, but the waters were moving so fast, he worried the small craft would be swept along with the current, or bashed against one of the many underwater buildings.
Ezra got into a crouch and waved back but could do little else.
Butch grew less enthused the farther away they sailed. “I bet they had a fallout shelter or something similar in that big building.”
He thought he knew what Butch was going through. “You miss your mom. Wish she’d been one of those people up on a roof.”
The young man sounded tired. “She wouldn’t have been able to get up on her roof even if that was an option for her. My mom looks nothing like me; she’s a tiny, out-of-shape, pack-a-day smoker.”
He patted the big man on the back. “I am sorry she didn’t make it. I can tell you were a good son.”
“Who left when he was eighteen to go fight in a dumb war. I was barely back before she bought it.”
The rusty barge banged into a brick parapet from an old building, crushing it like a wet graham cracker. The container had plenty of room to travel down the flooded street when it was pointed in the right direction, but when it turned sideways, the two-hundred-foot length often clipped parts of the underwater city.
“But you did come back,” he said sadly, noting the bodies floating nearby. Swirling water caught large clumps of garbage and debris in eddies, and sometimes the bodies hovered there, as if unwilling to leave the city where they once lived. He positioned himself so Butch would have a hard time seeing the nearest corpses. If he recognized one of them…
A few minutes after they entered Paducah, they shot out the other side, and back onto the main channel. The waves had settled down, though the speed of the water remained fast.
“How are we going to get off this floating barge of death?” Butch asked while carefully getting off his butt and into a half-kneeling crouch.
“I’ve been wondering that myself. We’re still moving too fast for the johnboat, but if it keeps calming down, we can jump in it and head back. The high waters might let us drive the boat all the way to the dam using city streets and farmer’s fields. Might be kind of cool.”
“You still want to go back for those ladies?”
Ezra nodded. “I promised them we’d help.” He laughed, remembering his last words to the women. “I told them we’d be right back when we went under the bridge.”
“Yeah…they saw us get dragged away by the flood. I think they’d understand what happened.”
“I’m worried about them. They’ll probably try to force their way through the roadblock without us. I told Colby I’d watch over his wife and her friends. I’d hate to go back on our promise.”
“The women will probably have a better chance of getting through than two tough guys like us,” Butch suggested.
“Maybe. Or the guys on that blockade will see an easy opportunity to take advantage of them…”
“War is hell,” Butch deadpanned. “Once the mission kicks off, there’s not much you can do to sway the event, other than stay alive. We’ve been dealt our hand; the ladies have been dealt theirs.”
Ezra figured out what he was saying. “You don’t want to go back, do you?”
Butch looked out on the miles-wide river. “It might not be up to us. You have to be ready for the possibility. We’re heading west right now. We might have to consider this the kick in the ass to get us heading for Yellowstone.”
He immediately thought of the message he’d left on Grace’s phone. “Yeah, I hear you. Let’s see what happens when the river calms down. If we can get back to where we came from, I’d like to give it one more try. If not, we may have to let the barge of death determine where we end up.”
They both laughed, letting out some of the rigid tension in his spine. Ezra was about to stand up and stretch, like Butch had started to do, but a deep, distant roar caught his ear, even above the splashing, choppy water all around him.
“What in the name of all that’s holy is next?” he asked.
Chapter 22
Billings, MT
Grace led the convoy on the snowy road for the fifty miles to Billings. The blanket of clouds finally pulled back a little, providing natural light to see the desolate landscape. The rough Montana hills surrounding them could have been piles of coal, they were so black with sooty snow.
Asher had his camera watch out again, snapping pictures of horses standing in snow drifts, rivers cascading out of their banks with all the snow melt, and numerous abandoned cars and trucks along the route.
“What are you going to do with all those photographs? Aren’t they all going to turn out like black boxes? It’s been so dark.”
“Where I come from, you tell the story of your day with photographs. Normally, I share what I’m eating for breakfast or what’s happening at the company water cooler, but this will be a lot more interesting.”
Grace wasn’t big on social media. She preferred to walk up and down her street and meet with friends face-to-face. For the most part, they were the same way, though once they were together, they often used tablets and phones to hang out. She viewed it as the best of both worlds. Then, once she got to Yellowstone, she used her smartphone even less.
I didn’t want to talk to Mom.
She was glad she’d gotten the opportunity to tell her mom how much she loved her last night. If Misha hadn’t stolen her phone, she would have told her again today. It also struck her how many wonderful scenes would have been perfect to text her mom since she’d been working in a national park. Not Asher’s black-on-black pictures of snow, but geysers, reflecting pools, and animals of all stripes.
“I’ll never understand the need to tell the world about what you’ve eaten, but I do understand the desire to tell a story.” Grace glanced over to her friend. “Take some pictures for me, okay?”
Asher’s smile became wry. He brought the camera watch back around and aimed it at her. “Say cheese!” The click went off before she could protest.
“I look like hell. My hair!”
“Is fine,” he replied. They’d both placed their straw hats on the center console between them while on the move, so her gnarly blonde locks were exposed to the world. “Here, I’ll take one of me to balance it out.”
Asher turned the watch on himself and made it click.
“How is a picture of your ugly mug going to make me feel better?” she asked with thick sarcasm.
He cracked up laughing. “Come on, don’t tell me you go around kissing ugly mugs for your job. If it helps, I’ll let you throw another snowball on my face. You know, to cover my hideousness.”
It was a playful exaggeration, to be sure. She’d kissed him in the moment back when they’d survived the car falling out of the sky, and it wasn’t a mistake back then. However, they weren’t safe yet. She had to keep her professional appearance up, or she’d open herself up to making mistakes. Flirting on the job could be fatal.
“I’ll make you a deal; when we get to Billings, we’ll find a place to stay, get a hot shower, I’ll peel out of these stinky clothes, and then you can take all the pictures you want.”
Asher turned serious. “You’d really take off your clothes for a photo shoot
?”
She whipped her head in his direction, ready to defend her honor. His smile widened, indicating he was toying with her. Grace rolled her eyes. “You’re a jerk! I meant with clean clothes on—”
“But you said!” he playfully interjected.
“No! I take back the invitation!”
They laughed together like the torture of leading the convoy was over. The headlights of the cars and trucks on the flat, non-mountainous two-lane highway behind her were reassuring in how normal they appeared. Misha was gone. Billings was close. In fact, as she laughed, the Welcome to Billings road sign came into view.
A couple of cars were parked in the road, end to end, blocking the way. She didn’t think much of it as she rolled up, but when she put the truck in park, Asher whispered to her. “They have rifles. I count four men.”
“It’s probably to keep out looters. I think it’s pretty common in disaster scenarios like this one.” She waved all around, as if she was the center of said scenario. “Let’s go talk to them.”
Grace grabbed her park ranger hat and shoved the creaky door open. Asher did the same on his side, then met her on the walk toward to the men. They got to within twenty feet before a grim-faced older man in a leather duster came out to meet them.
“You two hold up. You have to go back the way you came. Highway’s closed.”
She laughed despite the situation. “You can’t be serious. We just came over the mountain. We lost several of our party to violent crashes. There was a freaking meteorite strike back there. We’ve been heading to Billings to find some safety. The police in Red Lodge said FEMA is here.”
“They aren’t here yet,” the guard replied, sounding disappointed.
A female voice came from behind Grace. “We’re from Billings. We’re with the Montana Stockade Rodeo.”
She turned to see the curly-haired rancher woman from the silver Ford pickup truck walking her way. The rancher’s daughter scrambled to come up next to her. Of all the people in her convoy, the pair looked the most like the men at the checkpoint. She hoped that would give the whole group some credibility.
Impact Series Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 37