Impact Series Box Set | Books 1-6

by Isherwood, E. E.

  The man didn’t seem impressed. “I’m sorry, ma’am. We’re already full-up with rodeo folk. I’ve had numerous people tell me they’re part of the rodeo, so I let them through. Unless you have proof, I have to assume you’re not telling the truth. It’s the way it is right now.”

  “My husband has our booking information for the hotel. I could go get him and bring him back here. I only need to be let through—”

  “That’s not possible,” the duster-man replied.

  The mother turned to her, and Grace’s heart skipped a beat at the question she knew was coming.

  “Are you going to let these crooks stop us from getting where we belong?”

  Cairo, IL

  Ezra considered himself a pretty level-headed guy no matter what was happening. He’d seen some guys throw around tools and threaten bosses back at the post office garage, but he’d never been afraid for his life. When the trucker pulled a gun on him, he’d certainly experienced fear, but he didn’t wither into a blubbering mess like a wilted flower. The sight ahead nearly made him wet his drawers.

  “That can’t be real,” Butch croaked.

  He’d traveled all over the tri-state area for his job, visiting post offices to service vehicles, so he was familiar with what town should have been ahead of him. “Cairo is gone,” he announced in a dramatic tone, using the local emphasis on the name, so it sounded like “care-oh”.

  The town normally sat on a narrow finger of land that pointed south to the junction of the Mississippi and Ohio Rivers. The rushing flood of Kentucky Lake had joined with the waters of the Ohio River, creating an unstoppable torrent speeding down the channel he was riding. However, the other big river was also running high, flowing fast. They came together almost head-on, creating a vortex of watery debris shooting fifty or a hundred feet above the surrounding countryside. It was as if a third river came out of the ground and fire-hosed the water into the sky.

  “I think another dam burst up the Mississippi. There’s just too much water banging around out there.” His guts were as liquid as the river in front of them.

  “Got any ideas?” Butch said weakly, pressing tight against the lip of the cargo hold.

  There wasn’t much time. The fast-moving waters dragged the barge around a bend in the terrain, exposing more of the colliding rivers each second. Barges like his were sucked into the tumult and tossed around like they were made of Styrofoam. There were dozens of them going in as he watched; a few even came out of the spray, as if they’d come from the other river.

  “Get up!” Ezra said, knowing there was only one way to stay alive. “We’re getting out of here.”

  “Are you freaking nuts? We can’t escape it.”

  “Are you serious? Where are your Army skills when you need them? I need you to expert your way off this boat. Come on!” He grabbed Butch’s meaty arm, not waiting for him to make up his mind.

  Butch laughed ironically. “My Army skills only apply to things I’m good at. Swimming? Not so much.”

  “I know,” he replied in a comforting voice. He’d dealt with Susan’s panic attacks for years and knew the proper balance of calm and drive necessary to keep a frightened person moving until they got to safety. Susan’s last panic attack required him to help her out of the water. Now, with Butch, he had to help him get in.

  “Climb down!” The little johnboat bounced in the rough waters at the bottom of the ladder. It wasn’t designed for such unsettled turbulence, but nothing was designed for what was ahead. Their only chance was to avoid it. That could only be done with a powered boat.

  His young friend did as instructed, with the typical robot-like motions he’d often witnessed in Susan. When he got to the boat at the bottom, he fell in, draping himself over the middle seat. “Shit, E-Z, I can’t move!”

  “You did great,” he reassured him. “Now hang tight. I’ll get you out of here.”

  After untying the rope, the johnboat immediately separated from the larger cargo vessel. By the time he’d shuffled past Butch to reach the motor, they were fifty yards from the barge. They also had gotten within a couple miles of the raging water junction.

  The motor started up immediately, but when he gave it some gas, they barely moved. The flowing water and vast scale of the river made it hard to sense any headway. Ezra angled north, intending to get to the edge of the black hole eating barges, towboats, and everything else flowing into it. The leftward curve of the river made debris naturally flow to the right, so he tried to use that to his advantage.

  The front of the boat slapped on the waves, sending water over the low sidewalls and onto the deck. In a couple of minutes, there were inches of water inside. They had nothing to bail it out, so he could do little but watch and calculate if they’d make it to the distant shore before they swamped.

  We won’t have a shot in hell.

  “Hey, Butch! You have to use your shoe to bail!”

  “Are you crazy?” the young man replied.

  “Just do it!” he cried out. “Or we’re going to sink!”

  It would have made Ezra laugh in any other context. Butch acted as if he was hanging from the side of a skyscraper; he always kept one hand gripped to the side rail. However, he also slipped off one of his cowboy boots and dipped it in the water at his feet. A moment later, he emptied it over the edge.

  They did make some progress, and while the tiny motor had no chance of taking them against the rushing river, or even sideways in it, he used the current to move diagonally. For a short time, he believed they’d make it all the way, but there came a point when he realized they weren’t quite on the right path.

  The river collision sounded like bouts of thunder that wouldn’t shut off. The loose barges clanged together as they went onto the tall spires of water, adding the crunching sound of metal to the cacophony.

  Butch remained where he was, paralyzed by the watery death surrounding him, though he slowly drew water from the swamped interior and threw it out. Ezra’s heart pounded so fast it would have cracked his old heart rate monitor. He came to the belated conclusion full throttle on the outboard wasn’t going to do it.

  What he needed was a better boat. The new idea popped into his head and the thought modified what he saw on the water as if he’d put on a pair of sunglasses. There were a lot of the industrial-scale barges floating the river, but there were also smaller boats. Pleasure cruisers. Bass boats. Half-capsized sailboats. And also a more familiar model.

  “I don’t believe it,” he said dryly.

  Water sloshed at Ezra’s ankles as he changed course into the path of the monster consuming the river. They were already doomed to hit it, but he wasn’t committing suicide. He steered toward the one thing that might save their lives.

  “Please have keys inside.”

  Chapter 23

  Billings, MT

  Grace saw the town of Billings from the rise where the men had set up the roadblock. It was drizzling rain, yet snow remained on the ground. Cloud cover made it difficult to see the whole town, but it was a lot bigger than Paducah back home. The place would certainly have hotels and fast-food joints; she desperately wanted both.

  “Please,” she said to the man in the duster, “I have to get these people to safety. It’s my job as a ranger.”

  He shook his head emphatically. “And my job is to keep my family safe. They’re back in town, along with thousands of tourists who were here for the rodeo.”

  “Like us!” the cowgirl mother replied.

  “Like them,” he agreed, apparently not understanding how the woman was trying to get him to make the connection.

  Grace took a step to be within a few feet of the guy. “We won’t stay. We’re only passing through.” She remembered the few drivers she’d talked to back at the junction inside Yellowstone. People heading east were all destined for cities far away—Chicago, Detroit, Kansas City. If she could at least get them one night in Billings, it would absolve her of the obligation she felt toward them. Tomorrow, everyone
could strike out on their own if they wished.

  “You aren’t getting it. We’re full up.”

  Grace locked eyes with the man; her brain urgently searched for the authority to force him to relent. As she did, the rotor sound of a helicopter came from the cloudy skies. She immediately imagined a mayor coming on to the scene to further beat it into her she wasn’t getting through.

  “I’ll trade my watch,” Asher stated like he’d made the most difficult decision of his career. He held the bulky black watch, so the man was able to see it from where he stood.

  “Hard pass,” the man replied.

  “But this is a fifteen-hundred-dollar watch,” Asher said with hurt in his voice.

  The duster-fellow held up his own wrist. “My ten-dollar watch tells time, too.”

  She pointed to her truck. “How about this? I’d trade it for safe passage of one night.”

  The man winced at the sight of her NPS Suburban. “Dang. You drove that all the way from Yellowstone?”

  Grace looked back, appreciating how far she’d come in the soot-stained truck. She felt an odd kinship with the vehicle; they’d traveled together from the hottest fires to the coldest mountain passes. It did look sad, like a smiling face with all her teeth punched out. “Yeah, she’s been through hell, but she runs fine.”

  “Tons of respect for what you’ve done, but we can’t be bribed. That’s why they sent me out here alone. They’d shoot me if I came back and told them we made a side deal to let you through.”

  She wondered if she could convince three others to give up their automobiles. Then it would be four vehicles for trade; one for each man blocking the way. The helicopter sounds had faded, but then they returned, as if the wind had shifted. She stepped away from the man when the rotor wash of the blades threatened to blow her hat off.

  The dark shape of the aircraft came out of the low clouds, maneuvering as if to land in a farm field off to the side of the road.

  “We’re going,” she said dejectedly. “You didn’t have to send for backup.”

  The man in the duster heard her. “We didn’t send for anyone. I’ve got to get back.” He trotted to the two cars blocking the highway, leaving them alone for a second.

  A number of scenarios played out in her head, but she focused on the one she wanted the most. She’d made the call back at the police station. Maybe, by some miracle, her dad found out about her attempt to contact him. It would be exactly like her father to reply by doing something thoughtful and useful for her survival. Maybe he got in touch with someone in Montana to make sure she made it to safety.

  Asher stood next to her. “What do you think they want?”

  “I was wondering the same thing. I guess we’ll wait here and see before we turn around. These guys aren’t going to let us. Why wouldn’t they even take our truck?”

  He laughed. “You don’t do much haggling, do you? In order for a trade to work, you have to offer a valuable thing they want. No offense, but…” He turned his head and whispered, possibly so the truck wouldn’t hear him. “You didn’t take very good care of it.”

  She slapped him on the arm. “Shut up.”

  They both had to hold their hats as the helicopter came to a rest in the field. Three burly men hopped out and ran toward the roadblock. They wore heavy black coats, black snow pants, and were outfitted with big goggles. Two of them stopped at the edge of the road near the Welcome to Billings sign, but the third man came directly toward her.

  Her brain had been fixated on her dad, so she imagined he was inside all that gear. That illusion was dispelled when the man propped his goggles on his forehead.

  “No!” Grace recoiled and tried to reach for her pistol.

  “Do not,” Misha ordered as he held up his hands. “My friends have orders to shoot anyone who threatens me.”

  Grace considered it for a few seconds but knew he wasn’t bluffing. A guy who dropped out of the sky in a helicopter almost certainly wouldn’t need to bluff. She slowly brought her hand back to her side. “I knew it was you,” she said sadly. “There was no way someone happened to live around here who would run into the woods to get home.”

  Misha smiled. The burn on the side of his face and neck was barely visible inside the neckline of his heavy coat and hood. He’d obviously gotten treatment for it; an oily sheen suggested it was covered in burn ointment. “My boss pays quite well to be a professional on the job. I went out and met my friends, but you will also note I did not hurt any of yours. I appreciated the ride over the mountains with your motley American band.”

  She refused to thank him again for the rope idea. “Well, you’ve apparently come to finish what you’ve started. We can’t fight off you and your military goons while also protecting the people behind us. It doesn’t really matter though, because these other goons won’t let us through to get to Billings, so it was all a waste of time.”

  Misha’s smile faded, as if he’d made a decision she wouldn’t like. “I am not a monster, if that is what you think. This is only business. In fact, I will help you out. Wait over here.” He pointed to the side of the road, near his two friends.

  “Are you going to kill us?” she asked, weighing the odds of taking out her pistol and getting a shot or two off before being mowed down by whatever guns the hitman’s pals carried.

  Misha waved her over more forcefully. “Wait there. Pajalista. Please.”

  His sudden use of please made her do it. While she waited there, Misha and his two friends went over to the men at the roadblock. They strode up like they owned the place and though she couldn’t hear what was said, she was certain threats were made. Misha’s men looked like wolves about to pounce based on their posture alone. At some point, they struck an agreement, and the men jumped in the two cars and backed them out of the middle of the road.

  Misha came back to her smiling triumphantly. “In Russian, we call that a happy ending.”

  “What did you do?” she asked with confusion, checking again to be sure she’d seen it correctly. The blockade was open.

  Misha’s phone rang, and he checked who it was. His face darkened before he looked up at her. “I must take this. Get your cars through the roadblock before those men change their minds. Only you must stay.”

  She gulped. “Stay?”

  He waved at her dismissively as he answered the phone.

  It gave her a moment to turn to Asher. She noticed his police-issue Glock remained holstered in his big black belt. True to what he’d said, Misha didn’t even consider her friend to be a worthy threat. Could she use that to surprise him? Should she? Why had he come in and helped her at all?

  There were too many questions and not any answers on offer. The smart play was to shove her convoy through the gap, then deal with Misha once everyone was safe. She turned to Asher. “What choice do we have? Let’s get them through.”

  Cairo, IL

  Of all the boats Ezra picked out on the waves, he saw the only one that seemed right for the occasion. The pontoon looked like every other model on the lake, a flat, open deck on top of two, long, aluminum floats. It seemed intact, save for the metal cage supporting the sun visor over the captain’s chairs. It had been ripped clean off the watercraft.

  “We’re going to make it, Butch.” Ezra willed the little engine to get them across the muddy brown waters. The growing waves splashed over the sides with greater frequency, so the flat-bottomed johnboat became sluggish as he neared the pontoon. Butch’s boot barely kept them in the game.

  “Are we almost to shore?” Butch asked, sounding hopeful.

  “Not quite,” he replied. “Get ready to jump out though. You’ve got to go when I say. Don’t ask questions, don’t look around; just jump!”

  “You got it, E-Z,” he weakly laughed.

  A large wave came over the side of their boat, adding dangerously to the level of water inside. “Aw shit!” Ezra screamed. For two seconds he thought that was it, they were going over the side. He had to hold on to the side, same as
Butch. When they straightened out, he almost didn’t realize how close they’d gotten to the other boat. He had to back off the outboard throttle to slow them down, but it was time to go. “Jump!”

  Butch lifted his head, then dropped it again.

  Ezra’s stomach wheeled around and threatened to climb out of his throat. There was no time for delay. “It’s now or never! Suck it up, soldier!”

  Butch came to life. He glanced back to him, then at the pontoon. “Affirmative, sir!” He snatched his backpack out of the water on deck, then reached out for the rear ladder of the other boat, and finally pulled himself up. His large size made the entire pontoon boat tip a bit with his added weight.

  Ezra used some thrust to hold the johnboat against the other one. Since he was in the rear, he had to swing the boat closer to the ladder. As he conducted his maneuver, a wave caught him on the broadside, dipping the port side under the water.

  He went on instinct. He lunged out of the boat, grasping for the ladder. He missed with his right hand, but he managed to shove his left hand through the bottom rung. His backpack and rifle dragged in the water, along with his legs, weighing him down. Being in the choppy surface made him realize how close he was to the thunderous crunches of other boats going into the colliding rivers. Panic arrived on the scene, threatening to pull him under, as it tried to do with Suze.

  “E-Z!” Butch held his hand down.

  The clasped hand of the strong young man pulled him right up.

  “Good Lord, thanks for that.”

  “Someone has to drive the boat,” Butch replied. The ex-soldier fell to the floor, not out of fright precisely, but he seemed to want to sit there for the next part.

  “I had a boat a lot like this,” he commented, trying to pull himself together.

  “You need to take better care of your stuff,” Butch said sarcastically.

  The boat was a mess. It had definitely been flipped; it’s what smashed the sun visor. The interior smelled like gasoline had leaked out and splashed over everything. Several of the vinyl seats looked like they’d been clawed by rocks, and the three-part folding windshield was totally pancaked. He shucked off his gear and flopped into the captain’s chair in front of the steering wheel and throttle. If the keys weren’t already in the ignition, they’d never get it started in time.