Bear warned him, "I'll talk to them, but there's no guarantee they will want to go Jack, and I’m not leaving them."
Grimacing, Jack quickly outlined everything he knew and what he thought would likely be happening. By the time he was done, Bear had gone silent, shocked. After a few moments of unbroken airwaves, his answer was brief.
"Shit. I'll have them on the bus in ten minutes. See you in twenty,” he said.
With that, they broke the connection, and Jack passed out orders. They pulled off the side of the road and waited, eyes peeled for signs of Bear or the troops deployed in St. Cloud. The silence of an empty highway hung heavy over the convoy, stark reminder of the dire circumstances surrounding their journey.
Their vigilance was rewarded before long. Nineteen minutes after Bear hung up, Jack saw a large yellow school bus pulling up the road. Feeling confident and excited, he hopped down and waved it over. Standing by the side of the road, Jack let it pull up to him and clambered on board. Standing at the front of the bus he spotted his buddy Bear Bineau immediately, relief washing over his entire body. Breaking into a smile, the big hairy monster came at him and wrapped Jack in a huge hug, lifting him off the ground completely for a moment.
Bear stood level with Jack, but where the latter was whipcord thin and built like a rapier, Bear appeared much akin to namesake. Massive, with strong powerful shoulders and thick trunk like legs. A powerful barrel chest and sinewy arms said he wasn't a man that many would be willing to trifle with. He was even bigger then Cyrus, containing a lot more speed and power then the big bartender.
Once he'd been set back to his feet, Jack took a quick look around and gave Bear one of his standard, eyebrow raised looks of inquiry. Putting up his hands in mock defense, Bear hurried to explain.
"Look Jack, I know we only talked about the team, but we couldn't just leave the rest of them. We'd all been watching the news together in the lobby and when they saw us packing up to leave, they started asking questions. Pretty soon the whole hotel wanted to know what was going on, where we were going. I just couldn't say no. What did you want me to do?" he asked the last part quietly, worried of letting the others hear Jack’s answer.
The first few rows of the bus were taken up by the members of Bear's rugby team, a group of fearsome looking men that had played with Bear for years. Behind the team was an assorted group of people, all looking fearfully at Jack, afraid of being sent back. They were a mixed group; containing families, lone travelers, a couple of younger people, even what looked to be a team of high school cheerleaders. Looking everyone over, Jack felt a deep sense of pride in his friend's instincts.
"You did exactly right Bear. I'll take care of them, I promise. We’re happy to have them." Jack said. He then turned to the bus and addressed the group as a whole.
"My name is Jack Hightower. I know some of you from the team, but a lot of you are new faces. I need to tell you a couple things, so listen up and try to suspend your cynical disbelief for a few minutes.” he said. Peering around the bus he tried to drive his point home by making eye contact.
“In the next few hours, our world is going to change. You've seen its beginning... the rioting, the fires; these are some of the warning signs. Most of you have also probably heard about the president's address. I know a lot of you are scared, but I ask that you trust me. I’m going to take you all to a safe place,” he paused, letting his face grow more serious, “Life is going to be hard for a while, and I will expect everyone to pull their own weight. No free rides at Greg’s place. You are going to have to be ok with that and follow orders, or you will be sent packing. All that being said, I'm glad you're here, and like I said, I promise that I will keep you safe. Sound good enough?”
Jack looked around, saw some nods, a few confused faces. The occasional rebellious look told him that there might be some issues down the road, but all in all, they seemed willing to do as they were told. At least for the time being.
Message delivered to the crowd, he gave instructions to Bear before ordering the buses' driver to follow behind the SUV's. Shaking Bear's hand, Jack hopped lightly to the ground, heading back to his position atop the trail M35. Once it was regained, he ordered the convoy onto the final leg of their journey.
Just as they started to pull out, Jack heard a strange, high pitched whining sound. Looking up, he saw what appeared to be a black dot against the rising sun, falling towards the earth. He watched as it grew, slowly taking the shape of an airplane. As it came closer and closer, he noticed that there were no lights, finding the absence somewhat curious.
Finally, the awful reality clicked. The big jetliner was now falling freely from the sky. Even as that thought started to sink in, he saw another. As he watched jets drop from the heaven's, he recognized the truth and felt its impact. Minnesota had taken an electromagnetic pulse detonation. The end war had finally come to his home. He stared, watching the first jet until it connected in a fiery reunion with the earth.
Inside, Jack felt a wrenching anguish. Watching the helpless death of hundreds stole his breath, leaving him hollow and hurting. Unable to take it any more, he turned his back on the tragic sight, keeping his gaze set firmly to the north. He had to focus on what he could protect, those that he had the power to save. There was nothing that could be done for the poor souls behind him, so he prayed that god would see to their needs.
Chapter 14: The Western Road
7:01am
August 16th 2015
Ashley National Forest, Northeast Utah
Rey and Jose Lorenzo had been traveling for hours. They had stayed off of major roads, avoided cities, only stopping once. They had hit a small town market, buying up as much water and non-perishable food as they could lay hands on, though it garnered more than a few odd glances from the other patrons. Money would likely be nothing more then so much toilet paper in a few days, and they had no intention of saving it.
The truck had already been loaded with a pair of rifles, plenty of ammunition, a tent and limited supply of food; all the supplies they had brought for the aborted camping trip. As the radio started to fill with increasingly horrible news, they recognized that their travels might take them significantly longer than originally thought. This revelation had prompted the stock up, and Rey realized they had been none too soon to do so. The president’s address had come on just minutes after leaving the town, making their departure a timely escape indeed. Looking ahead, he had realized that what had originally been a two or three day trip might just take a lot longer with the nation burning around them.
As they rolled up to the small town of Vernal in northeast Utah, Rey and Jose discussed their plans. They both agreed that it would be better to push through town before resting for the night. They could tent up near the Utah/Wyoming border, staying safely away from other people, keeping unwanted eyes from their backs. Not expecting trouble in such a small town, they weren't prepared for any and ended up taken by surprise.
As the truck crossed into the main square, gunfire erupted in a thunderous cacophony of destruction, startling the pair into a panic. The sounds of ammunition being expended surrounded the vehicle, forcing them down below the window in hope of avoiding any particularly well aimed bullets.
Unable to see over the steering wheel, Rey was driving blind, hoping that he could push through town before someone got that lucky shot in. He kept his foot on the gas as their little red Chevy went running straight towards trouble; trouble he knew nothing of. Upon risking a quick peek over the dash to orient himself, Rey spotted a heavy coach bus that had been parked long ways across the street, forming an impressive roadblock. Yelling in alarm, he slammed his foot on the brake, bringing the truck to a stop just feet from the barricade.
The townspeople quickly surrounded the truck, yanking the doors open. Strong hands gripped the two relatives, hauling them bodily from the vehicle before tossing them to the ground. Fearsome, bayoneted rifles angled sharply at pair, instilling a certain degree of obedience.
A
s Rey and Jose lay sweating, certain that they were about to be murdered, a voice boomed out, "Hold men, hold!"
From the flat of his back, Rey sought out the commanding voice’s owner. It took him a few seconds to spot him where he made his way through the crowd, and he kept his eyes fixed as the man reached the center. Standing over them, a gigantic black man stared down at him and his uncle with a ferocious leer. He was near to seven feet tall, with wide shoulders and huge, beefy arms. With his hair shaved to a Mohawk and his arms left bare beneath a leather vest, he bore a striking resemblance to Mr. T. Rey considered mentioning the comparison, but wisely decided against it, opting instead to keep his mouth very much shut. The giant sauntered closer, clearly the group’s leader.
"Now what brings you two little wetbacks through my town?" he asked with a growl.
Bristling at the racial slur, Old Jose tried to keep his tongue in check, aware that the man's orders were likely the only thing keeping them alive. His nephew, however, took a different approach.
"Just doing some sightseeing you stupid damned gorilla," he challenged. "What made you want us so badly as your guests that you would be so FORCEFUL in your invitation?"
The hefty leader blinked, staring at the little Mexican-american's courageous rejoinder. Then he started laughing. Big, booming, hearty laughter.
"Ha ha, damn amigo! You got some sand eh? HA! Juevos Grandes on that one I'd say!" Turning to his men he gestured for them to relax their rifles, "Ahh hell, let 'em up. If we don't, that old one might have a heart attack and haunt me forever."
Grabbing Rey’s shoulder, he hauled him to his feet before briefly dusting him off.
"Look here, name is George Washington. Yeah I know, bet you never knew the country's founder was black.” he said. George grinned at his own joke, waiting expectantly for the little man’s laughter. When none was forthcoming, he grimaced slightly before continuing, “Nah I'm just playing with you, my old mother just had no sense of originality is all."
Rey stared at the man in confusion. "What the hell? One minute you're shooting at us, then you're making sure I'm clean enough? What's your game asshole?"
George had the common decency to look ashamed.
"Yeah, about that. We weren't really shooting at you, technically speaking." Grabbing one of his men's rifles, he aimed it at the man who had until recently held it. Suddenly, he jerked the trigger, rifle still pointed to his fellows chest. Rey gasped, certain that this mad giant had just murdered one of his own men to make some sort of insane point. Once his shock wore off however, he realized that the apparent victim was still standing there, grinning at Rey.
"Blanks." George explained succinctly.
"Who the hell ARE you people?" Rey asked in astonishment. He looked around at the group in confusion for a moment. Now that he took a second, he realized that everyone but George was dressed in Union blue. That is to say, they wore the uniform of a civil-war era regiment from the north. Jose gave Rey a nudge and pointed to the bus/roadblock they had almost run into. Printed on the side were the words WASHINGTON'S 1ST REGIMENT RE-ENACTORS, with an eagle flying over the letter W.
Rey looked at the men around him. "Your fucking re-enactors? What the hell are you pulling over passing cars for? We thought you were trying to kill us!"
George got serious. "Hell, we thought you were trying to kill US! about an hour ago, a couple of trucks came screaming through, guys in back shooting at anything that moved. We scattered and have been hiding out ever since, scared they'd be back. We figured you were them, so I told the boys to open up, see if we couldn't scare them off."
Jose raised an eyebrow. "Why the roadblock then?" He asked.
George grimaced. "Not intentional. We were trying to pull the damn bus around and head back north when the engine died. Haven't got a fucking clue what's wrong with it, so it's just stuck like that. We were originally headed down south for a show when the radio started talking about nuclear explosions and such, so we figured we'd better be getting somewhere else. That was four hours ago. Now we're stuck in this god-forsaken ghost town, bus broken, with no way to get home."
Rey asked the obvious, "where's home?"
"New York, New York Mr. Mexican. Greatest city in the world," George answered with pride.
Jose broke in again, "Where are the town people?"
George shrugged, "No clue hermano. Place was empty when we got here We looked around, but all the cars are gone too. Looks like the town evacuated itself before we arrived."
Jose looked at his nephew, raising an eyebrow. Rey knew what he was asking, and thought about quickly. Decided, he nodded. With his permission, Jose trotted over to the bus and then climbed underneath it.
"What's the old guy up too?" George asked curiously.
Rey looked at him. "My uncle Jose is a genius when it comes to engines. Chances are good that he will at least be able to tell us what's wrong with it, maybe get it fixed." sticking out his hand, he let the giant envelope it in his own. "I'm Rey by the way. Next time, maybe don't shoot at random cars, blanks or otherwise?"
George laughed and replied, "Hell, I can probably promise I won't be shooting at YOU anymore. You fella's get that old thing fixed up and I'll owe you big time. Where are you heading anyway's, If you don't mind me asking?"
Rey shrugged, "Minnesota, there's a group of people up there who prepared for this. We are supposed to be joining them."
George whistled, "Minnesota huh? I had a girlfriend from up around there once. They grow the bustiest, blond haired, blue eyed girls, I'll tell you what,” he said. George’s tone grew wistful as he imagined his old flame, “Couldn’t cook for a damn though, no sense of seasoning in her. She’d slap some butter on anything and call it done...Still...honkers on those white girls like you wouldn’t believe...”
He was stopped from elaborating on northern girls propensity for large breasts by the timely return of Jose.
"Spark plugs and a fuel line. I can fix it, no problem."
Terse message delivered, he went to the truck where he always kept some extra mechanical supplies. Rey and George watched him return to the bus and start working.
"He doesn't talk all that much does he?" asked George.
"I don't know. He's known to do a bit of chatting after a couple of beers, but mostly he's the kind of man to let his actions speak for him. He's a good one though, raised me after my parents died."
"My condolences. When did you lose them?" George inquired.
Rey shook his head, "None necessary. I lost them when I was just eight, so it's been a long time. Jose is the only parent I can really remember anymore."
He looked affectionately at his uncle as the older man came padding back over to them.
"She's good now." he said with a nod before moving to stand silently by his nephew, cleaning grease off his hands with an old rag.
George whooped loudly and his men echoed.
"That's some mighty fine news Jose! I can't tell you how much that means to us." George spoke with an expansive grin, mouth stretched wide over pearly white teeth.
"George...why don't you follow me over here for a second." Rey motioned to a few yards off, away from the other men. The two walked off a step, just out of earshot.
"Look George, what's your plan? I know you were saying you'd head home, but I have to tell you, it didn't sound like much of the Eastern Seaboard was left. The news made it sound like most everything from Virginia on North took a hell of a beating. I don't like to be the bearer of bad news, but I thought you ought to know..." he trailed off.
George blew out a big breath, all laughter gone.
"I figured as much...I just didn't want the boys to know… not yet. Though I reckon they've started to figure it out. When we heard Los Angeles got hit, I kinda started wondering if it wasn't countrywide. Then the news about Dallas came over the radio… Well I guess it just stands to reason that you don't hit Dallas and L.A. but leave D.C. or New York untouched..." he said.
George ran a massive paw ov
er his head, bristling the short Mohawk.
"Hell, I don't know what else to do except head as far back towards home as we can. We don't really have anywhere else to go. I mean, we could stay here, or some small town like it, but how long would that work? We don't know the area, the people. We'd be a burden and I expect some wouldn't take too kindly to our presence."
Rey gave him an appraising look. He realized that the big giant with a bigger laugh concealed a good amount of intellect behind his affable nature. The next decision proved fairly easy for Rey.
"Well, how about you come with us?" The place we're headed was prepared, just for this. It's supposed to have plenty of room, and you'd be more than welcome I'm sure." he said.
Rey knew he had just offered the man and his followers an incredible lifeline, it was now up to George to seize it.
For his part, George was considering the small man in front of him. He knew what the man was suggesting, but worried. What were the chances that this offer, which sounded too good to be true, really was just that? He hesitated, wavering and unsure. Sensing his difficulties, Rey helped him come to a decision.
"I get it, you're worried this might be a dead end. Too good to be true." Rey stated.
George nodded, relieved that the little Mexican American understood his doubts and wasn't offended.
"Listen George, you're right, your men are going to figure it out soon. You know you have nowhere else to go, so why not come with us? You can check it out. It gives some hope for your men to hold onto, and If I'm wrong or lying, it's still heading mostly the right direction. What have you got to lose?"
The Dead Familiar (Winterhaven Series) Page 12