The fire started to snake its way into the interior of the car from underneath the dashboard and spread across the dirty carpet.
The plastic components along the dash started to melt and warp.
John hurried to the rear of the car, pried open the door, and pulled Rebecca’s limp body out of the backseat. He slung her over his shoulder and started to stagger away from the car.
The flames quickly spread throughout the rest of the vehicle.
John didn’t look back as he struggled to carry Rebecca away from the engulfed vehicle.
The car blossomed into an orange fireball as the flames finally reached the gas tank. Smoldering pieces of steel and chunks of burning rubbing scattered across the road.
John nearly tumbled to the ground from the blast, but he managed to find his footing and continue onward.
As he hobbled along the middle of the interstate, curiosity got the better of him…
Slowly, he turned his head and looked back at Tres Rios.
The entire land was flattened and drowned in an ocean of fire.
Everything he knew, everything he grew up with, was gone in an instant.
Heartbroken and dismayed, he turned his attention ahead and continued his journey north into darkness and uncertainty with his wife slung over his shoulder.
Chapter 20
John’s legs were weak and his back ached. He felt blood blisters on the soles of his feet and he felt each painful breath he took.
Battered and bruised, he continued to struggle along the highway, determined to find some sort of safety.
The sun was starting to rise and what remained of Tres Rios was a distant memory.
He wasn’t sure how far or how long he had been walking, but he knew he wasn’t even close to the nearest town yet.
Rebecca faded in and out of consciousness, mumbling incoherently from time to time before slipping off again. He leg was still swollen and her body was burning with fever.
John kept moving her from one shoulder to the other, but his arms were so tired that doing so offered him little relief.
In distance, he saw a caravan of flashing lights approaching.
They were coming back to finish the job.
He panicked.
Hide, he thought.
He hobbled towards the edge of the interstate as fast as he could, but he was too weak and too slow.
A Texas Highway Patrol cruiser was the first on the scene. It skidded to a stop a few feet away from John, blue lights flashing.
John sat Rebecca down on the pavement and shielded his eyes from the bright light.
Two troopers stepped out of the cruiser, pistols drawn.
Wails from fire trucks and ambulances approached from the distance along with a crescendo of additional police sirens.
John closed his eyes and stumbled towards the car, balling his fists.
He wasn’t going to let the soldiers take him without a fight…
Not without a fight…
The sirens faded and his head spun as he stumbled backwards.
Before John even knew what was happening, he collapsed on the ground from exhaustion and his world faded to black.
Chapter 21
The hospital room was a stark contrast to the room in Tres Rios. All of the equipment was top of the line and everything was immaculately clean. The room was richly appointed with tasteful decorations. A flat panel television hung on the wall.
John sat in the plush chair next to the large window that overlooked the San Antonio skyline. He had the window cracked open as far it would allow. A warm breeze blew into the room and rustled the window’s blue drapes.
He was wearing a gown and had a plastic barcode bracelet around his wrist. Even though he tried, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as he squeezed the remote control.
He never wanted a cigarette so badly in his life.
Next to him, Rebecca was laying on a plush hospital bed with her head propped up. An IV ran into her arm and supplied her with anti-venom, painkillers, and fluid. Multiple monitoring devices were attached to her body.
Despite everything, she looked blissful as she slept.
John glanced over at her and quickly turned his attention back to the television. He had it on a cable news channel as they continued their coverage of the Tres Rios disaster; every station seemed to be talking about the same thing.
He turned the volume up, frowning.
“-that additional federal authorities have arrived on the scene,” the reporter said.
The footage on the screen showed an aerial view from a news helicopter as it hovered over the flattened remnants of Tres Rios. Hazmat crews and emergency personnel covered the desolate landscape. There was nothing left of the town; even the earth itself was charred to a crisp. Ash floated through the air and the sky was thick with black smoke.
A caption at the bottom of the scene read: ‘BREAKING NEWS - OIL REFINERY EXPLOSION DESTROYS SOUTHERN TEXAS TOWN – THOUSANDS FEARED DEAD, HUNDREDS STILL MISSING.’
“It’s a harrowing scene, James,” a man said from back at the newsroom. “From what you can see out there, has the situation been contained at all?”
The helicopter’s camera panned out and displayed a number of burning oil wells. The geysers of flames shot out of the cracked earth like hellfire.
“No, unfortunately the situation appears to be about the same as it was earlier this morning,” the man in the helicopter said. “Specialized crews are having difficulty snuffing out the fires from the wells and a number of crews have had to pull back due to safety concerns.”
The caption at the bottom of the screen changed: ‘DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY STATES “POSSIBLE” ECOTERRORISM INVOLVEMENT – FEDERAL INVESTIGATION UNDERWAY.’
“Any word yet on the–”
Someone knocked on the door.
John muted the television and looked as a nurse walked into the room.
The nurse, a petite white woman in her twenties, blinked and looked at John with surprise.
“Mr. Oliver, you need to stay in your room,” she insisted as she walked towards the bed to check on Rebecca’s vitals.
“I’m not going anywhere until she wakes up,” John said with a frown.
The nurse sighed and placed a gentle hand on Rebecca’s shoulder. She looked over at John with a concerned expression.
“You’re exhausted,” she told him. “You need your rest. Your wife is going to be fine. She seems to be responding well to the anti-venom and her condition is stable.”
“When is she waking up?” John asked.
“I don’t know, it could be hours,” the nurse said. “She needs her rest right now… The doctor gave her a sedative and some narcotics. If she was awake, I doubt that she’d be very coherent.”
John stared vacantly down at the floor.
The nurse checked the IV bag and made sure the drip line was still working properly.
“Trust me, she’ll be fine,” the nurse said with a smile as she looked back over at John. “It was a nasty bite, but nothing fatal. She just had a bad reaction. The swelling will go down on its own. You’ll see, tomorrow she’ll be awake and talking like normal. For now she needs her rest.” She paused. “So do you. Go to your room, Mr. Oliver.”
John sighed and waved his hand in the air.
“I’ll walk over there in a few,” John said. “Let me just collect my thoughts for a minute.”
“Well, alright, just don’t take all evening,” the nurse scolded as she waved a finger in the air. She glanced up at the news playing on television as she started to walk out of the room.
She stopped and frowned.
“You really should watch something else to get your mind off of that,” she suggested. “I can’t imagine what it was like… being so close to the explosion. You’re lucky. God was looking out for you two.”
John didn’t say anything as he kept his eyes on the floor.
“Well… I have rounds to finish,” the nurse said. “I’ll
see you soon.”
The nurse gave a half-hearted smile, walked out of the room, and closed the door.
John looked back up at the television, raised the remote, and turned the volume back up.
“Rest assured that we’re doing everything in our power to find those responsible for this and plan on prosecuting them to the full extent of the law,” the young man behind the microphone covered podium said. “Our systems are some of the safest in the world, so the event of a malfunction is highly unlikely. We will not rest until we get to the bottom of this tragedy.”
Reporters started firing off questions in rapid succession. Camera flashes started going off from all over the room.
The man behind the podium pointed at one of the reporters.
The crowd quieted down as the reporter in the audience stood up. He was a tall man with thin bifocals.
“Kent Blackwell, KWTC. Assuming this was deliberate, what does Triburton plan on doing to prevent another attack from occurring?” the reporter wearing the glasses asked before sitting back down.
“Good question,” the man at the podium said. “All of our sites are protected by expertly trained security professionals, but even they can’t be everywhere at once. In light of this recent tragedy, the Department of Energy in conjunction with the Department of Defense has allocated our company additional funds to beef up our existing security force and purchase additional equipment. We will keep the communities where we operate safe at all costs. Next question?”
The crowd of reporters started talking over one another and waving their hands in the air.
The man pointed at a young blonde woman who was sitting in the front.
The woman smiled and stood holding a pad of paper and a pen.
“Lisa Harmon, WRAL. As has been reported all over social media this morning, this event has raised numerous safety concerns for residents where fracking operations haven’t started yet. Does Triburton plan on suspending their expansion into North Carolina?” she asked before quickly sitting down.
“No plans have been made to suspend our expansion operations, neither here nor overseas,” the man at the podium said. “Our operations are safe, viable, and provide–”
Someone knocked on the door.
John muted the television and sat the remote down.
“I’ll leave in a minute,” he said with annoyance. “Just give me a little more time.”
The door opened and two men entered the room.
One of the men was wearing a fancy Italian suit, a golden Rolex, and had a diamond stud earring in his right ear. His complexion was fair and his meticulously groomed hair was dirty blonde.
The other man was burly and wore a black polo and khaki pants. He was holding a small black device with two antennas attached to it.
“I hope I’m not disturbing you,” the man wearing the fancy suit said with a slick smile. “You weren’t in your room, so I figured that you’d probably be in here.”
“Who are you? What is this?” John asked, surprised.
The man in the fancy suit simply smiled with his hands neatly clasped in front of him. He waited while the man in the polo shirt slowly walked around the room holding the black device up in the air.
“What are you doing?” John asked, narrowing his eyes.
Satisfied, the man in the polo shirt lowered the device and walked towards his companion.
“It’s clean,” he said as he put the device in his pocket.
“Good, now leave us,” the man in the suit replied.
The man in the polo nodded, walked out of the room, and closed the door.
John’s expression soured…
“I’m Walter Hahn, chief public relations officer for Triburton,” the man in the suit said without losing his smile. “I apologize for the precautions, but surely you can understand why we have to take such measures.”
John balled his fists but didn’t stand.
“What the hell do you want?” John asked bitterly. “Are you here to finish the job?”
Hahn lost his smile.
“Finish the job? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Hahn said. “When we heard there were two survivors, we were… concerned. I’d like to see how you’re doing and, more importantly, talk about what you think you may have witnessed down there. I’m here to clear up some misconceptions.”
Hahn glanced up at the television, smiled, and turned it off.
“Save the bullshit,” John muttered.
Hahn frowned and looked at John.
“Excuse me?” Hahn asked.
“I said save the bullshit,” John said, louder. “I know exactly what I saw. I know about the virus, I know about the containment measures, and I know about the bombing. If you’re here to threaten or intimidate me and my family, you’re wasting your time.”
Hahn remained pokerfaced as he stared at John, studying him.
“If you truly believe your outlandish allegations, then why didn’t you tell the police when they took your report?” Hahn asked. “Why didn’t you tell the media?”
John looked at the man and shook his head in disbelief.
“Why would I even bother?” John asked as he shook his head. “Who in their right mind would believe me? Even if I did get some fool to buy my story, even then, do I look that stupid? We both know exactly what would happen to me if I talked to anybody about what I saw. Even worse, we both know what would happen to her. I know what you’re worried about, but we’re not talking to anybody. We just want to live in peace.”
John looked away and stared at the wall in front of him, disgusted.
Hahn stared at him for several minutes before reaching inside his suit pocket. He pulled out an envelope.
“I’m afraid that you still have me at a loss. I don’t know what you’re implying,” Hahn said. “We’re very sad about what you went through and we’d like to help you get back on your feet, Mr. Oliver. Please take this small token on behalf of the company.”
Hahn handed the envelope towards John.
John didn’t reach for it nor look away from the wall.
Undeterred, Hahn simply leaned down and sat the envelope on John’s lap. He patted John once on the shoulder and stood back up.
“Is there anything else we can do for you, Mr. Oliver?” Hahn cordially asked.
“Yeah, as a matter of fact there is,” John said.
“Oh? What would that be?”
“Get the fuck out of this room and never come back,” John muttered.
Hahn smiled and nodded.
“As you wish,” Hahn said. He turned and started to walk towards the door, but stopped as he glanced over at Rebecca. “You have a beautiful wife, Mr. Oliver. You chose well when you picked her. I hope you continue to make wise decisions.”
Hahn adjusted his tie, opened the door, and walked out of the room.
The door slammed shut.
John glanced down at the envelope and begrudgingly picked it up. Curious, he tore it open.
A check fell down onto his lap.
His eyes widened in disbelief as he saw the amount. In all honesty, he never saw so many zeroes in his life.
No matter the amount, it was blood money.
John didn’t even have to think twice about his next move.
He stood up, tore the check into tiny pieces, and tossed it out the open window along with the envelope.
He closed the cracked window and walked over to Rebecca.
She looked so peaceful, so radiant.
John gently brushed her hair behind her ear as he admired her.
“We’re going to have that new start soon, real soon,” he whispered to her. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I promise. I love you…”
John stood back up and smiled down at her.
As he watched her, she slowly opened her dilated eyes and smiled back up at him. She slowly reached over and weakly squeezed his hand.
“I love you too,” she whispered hoarsely.
John squeezed back as
his eyes started to tear.
He knew everything was going to be okay.
Epilogue
It was nearly midnight.
The diner was an old relic from the fifties, and the years weren’t kind. The checkered floor tiles were cracked, the neon signs flickered, and the barstools were tattered and torn. A scent of old cigarette smoke perpetually hung in the stale air.
A group of overweight truckers sat at the bar and stuffed down their burgers and fries as they stared up at CNN on the small television mounted on the wall.
The Tres Rios disaster dominated the news all evening.
The waitress, a middle-aged woman with leathery tan skin and puffy blonde hair was sitting behind the cash register flipping through a tattered magazine, yawning.
One of the truckers belched loudly as he finished up his burger. He had a blonde mullet and a scraggily goatee. The tattoo on his hairy forearm read ‘What, me worry?’ with a smiley face.
The other truckers laughed.
The waitress rolled her eyes.
“Real classy, Ted,” she said.
“Darlin’ you know I’m as classy as they come,” Ted said as he ran his fingers through his greasy mullet. “I’m not going to let you bring me down today anyway with your ol’ sass.”
The waitress cackled.
“Oh? Why’s that? Did you finally see your feet past your gut?” she asked.
The other truckers erupted in laughter.
“She done got ya’ again Ted!” one of the older truckers said from the end of the bar.
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Ted said with a smirk. “She can try all she wants, but I’m a lucky son-of-a-bitch! Nobody can bring me down!”
He smiled and slapped his belly.
“What’d you do? Hit the Powerball?” one of the other truckers sarcastically asked.
“Nope,” Ted said proudly. He pointed at the television. “See that? I was there!”
“Oh, bull!” the waitress said. “You’re so full of it!”
“No seriously!” Ted said. “I was just down there in Tres Rios this morning to take away a broken pump! If I didn’t get out of there when I did, I would’ve been blown up with that refinery!”
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