How am I going to carry this shit?
She looked at the woefully inadequate flight bag. It was only about a foot and half long by maybe eight inches wide and eight or nine inches deep. Just enough to carry a change of clothes, a bottle of water, her small first aid kit, and maybe a book or pair of shoes. She only used it to carry her ‘absolute essentials’ for unexpected overnight layovers.
For most of her Air Force career it served Kate well, providing her a place to store her survival kit and sidearm, along with maps, flight plans, and any other important documents she required on mission. She’d never been shot down, so Kate never had to use it for its intended purpose of keeping her alive behind enemy lines.
She glanced up and looked around the bleak landscape again. Kate wished she still had her Air Force survival kit but resigned herself to make do with what she had on hand.
Looking back into the trunk, Kate realized she’d have to think outside the box. I don't have a way to carry stuff on my back…how else do you transport anything?
She kicked the fine, yellowish soil. This stuff is almost like snow out here…
An idea occurred to her.
Kate removed everything left inside the trunk and piled it on the ground, then lifted out the carpet padding covering the spare tire. Stooping, she put her flight bag and several rocks from the side of the road on the rubber-backed carpet and tried to slide it. The rubberized material made an awful scratching noise on the asphalt, but it slid fairly well.
Kate smiled. All she needed now was several lengths of rope and she could drag her little sled. The smile on her face faded.
I don't have any rope. She put her hands on her hips and stared at the car. Her gaze fell on the bundled wires strapped to the trunk’s hinge.
Wires. I can cut out wires!
She attacked the trunk with her knife and sliced up the upholstery, exposing dozens of wires. She had no idea what they were for and could've care less. The chef’s knife cut through them all. It took a bit of effort to rip the wires out but after an hour of cutting, paring, and tugging, Kate had a decent pile of wires at her disposal.
Sitting in the passenger seat, she sipped from the day’s bottle of water and wiped the sweat from her forehead. Kate stared at the carpeting cut from the trunk. The floor mat her foot rested on had a hard rubber back. After a quick experiment, it slid on the ground even better than the stuff from the trunk.
Kate used her knife to hack crude holes in the floor mat. She twisted up several wires to make a rope and tied two lengths together to make one about six feet long. This she threaded through the holes in the floor mat and fashioned a sled.
The waning sunlight faded as a cloud overhead. The temperature dropped by a few degrees instantly. Kate shivered and hastily loaded her gear back into the trunk, making sure to put her flight bag in the back seat.
Now that she had a way to transport her supplies, Kate felt much better. It wasn't ideal, but it would work. She tested the sled with a lid of rocks, pulling it by the wires over one shoulder. After bundling up her pilot’s uniform to make a shoulder pad, the wire didn't bite into her skin too much.
Time to start a fire.
Besides being hungry, she was curious what roasted jerky might taste like. As much as Kate wanted to lay down and force herself to get rest for the next day’s hike, she knew getting a fire going would be in her best interest. Not only would it keep her warm—even the desert gets cold in late December—but the flames would keep coyotes away and alert any passing cars of her presence.
Kate scooped up a handful of good-sized rocks and made a semicircle next to the passenger door, perhaps a foot and a half away. She opened the door then moved her trash from the pile next to the car into the fire ring.
Kate only had to go a dozen yards or so to find enough scraggly, dried sagebrush and other desert vegetation to make a nice stash of kindling. She broke off the thickest pieces of sagebrush and laid them parallel to each other, creating an air channel. She took a moment and tossed a handful of dirt into the air, testing wind direction. After aligning the open end of her nascent fire bed into the wind, Kate banked the sides with bigger pieces of trash and dried plants, reserving the smaller, lighter bits for the middle.
She sat back on her heels and dusted her hands, smiling at her handiwork. “That ought to do it,” she muttered.
As luck would have it, the car had died blocking most of the prevailing westerly winds. Enough of a breeze slipped under the car to provide a steady stream of oxygen to the fire.
She stared at the fire bed and frowned. “How the hell am I supposed to start you?”
The chef's knife might create a spark against a rock, but she didn't count on her geology skills enough to find the right kind in the wasteland around her. There had to be an easier way.
As she thought, her eyes wandered the small rocks at her feet. She picked up two and clacked them together but produced nothing more than a hollow sound.
This is ridiculous.
Kate tossed the rocks away and stood. She leaned against the hood, trying to figure out what to do. From her Air Force training, Kate knew there were several other methods of starting a fire. The problem became how much time she wanted to spend in the process.
Her head snapped up. The battery. She pulled the cheap jumper cables provided by the rental agency from the pile in the trunk and popped the hood. Once everything was connected everything, a few quick taps of the alligator clips and she had a ready supply of sparks.
“Yes!” she yelled at the desert.
Grinning like a mad scientist, Kate bent and tapped the alligator clips together again over her fire bed, creating a shower of sparks that ignited her tinder nest. Before long acrid smoke of melting plastic and the aromatic scent of burning sagebrush filled her nostrils.
While the fire happily consumed her garbage, Kate threw on several armloads of locally acquired weeds and grasses. About 50 yards away from the car she spotted the remains of a lightning-blasted pinyon tree and a clump of sagebrushAs the sun dipped ever closer to the horizon, Kate climbed into her gutted car and left the passenger door open to direct the fire’s heat inside. She knew at some point she’d have to close the door or risk falling victim to a dying fire or a curious coyote, but for now, the fire crackled merrily and her cares could at last fall silent. At least for a while.
Lights on the horizon behind her shook Kate from her drowsy stupor. Someone was coming—and the silhouette looked big. Kate hauled herself to her feet outside the car and watched as the big vehicle grew closer. It had the boxy frame of a bus but something didn’t look quite right.
“An RV…it’s an RV!” Kate pulled her white pilot’s blouse from the back seat and waved it in the air. “Come on, stop, you asshole—you got space for me in there!”
The RV, a modern bus-like vehicle, grew steadily closer, then shifted to the far lane as it sped to within a hundred yards or so. Kate continued to wave and shout, trying to get them to slow down to no effect.
“Why aren’t you stopping?” she cried as the RV roared by. The old man at the wheel kept out a wary eye until he drew even and passed her. Kate stood in the road and let her improvised flag drop to the ground. Her arms slowly lowered.
“But…” she whispered, staring at the little red car towed along behind the lumbering RV. “You have that huge camper and a car.”
Defeated, she staggered back to her dead vehicle and leaned against the side, ignoring the cool metal as it pinched her skin. “Asshole.”
Rage flared up in Kate’s chest. She screamed at the silent, mocking desert. More than anything, she feared dying alone, lost out on the lonely highway.
She took one more desultory kick at the pebbles in the road, then climbed back in her car. The night air was turning cold and she was letting precious heat escape out of her vehicle.
“Jay…” she whispered as the tears came.
TO BE CONTINUED…
CHAPTER 1
JAY CANTRELL OPENED HIS
eyes and looked up at his daughter. His grime and sweat-streaked face sagged a split second before he smiled, the white of his teeth in stark contrast to his scraggly, bearded face.
“I lost the car,” he blurted.
Leah collapsed onto his chest in a fit of tear-laced laughter, hugging him with all her strength while he laughed and tried to hug her back.
“Oh God—Dad, is it really you?” She ran her hands over his face, then leaned back, making a face.
“Whew—you’ve smelled better." She plucked at a green twig sticking up under his chin. “And…do I even want to know why you have a pine tree in your jacket?”
He sat up and held her at arm’s length. “Leah, I lost the car.”
His daughter wiped at the tears on her face and smiled. “So? Dad, you made it! You came for me…”
Jay blinked. A wave of pain washed over his legs and his arms trembled. “Of course I did—but Leah, don’t you see? How are we going to get home?”
She collapsed against him, wrapping her arms tight. Jay closed his eyes.
“We’ll figure something out, Dad."
Jay smiled through his daughter’s hair at the two young men standing in the doorway, trying not to stare. “Who are your friends?” he whispered.
“Oh!” Leah pulled back and straightened her sweatshirt, running her hands through her hair. “This—Thom, I want you to meet my dad. Dad, this is Thom.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” said Thom, offering a hand.
“I…ah…” Jay held up his bandaged hands. “Nice to meet you.”
“And this is Hunter,” Leah continued.
“What’s up, man?” asked the second youth, hands in his pockets.
Jay laughed. “Where’s everyone else? I thought there’d be a lot more of you here…and what’s with all the garbage in the stairwell?”
He watched the silent exchange between Leah and the two boys.
“It’s complicated,” Thom said.
“Let’s get you into my room and more comfortable than out here in the stairwell.”
“Yeah, we don’t know when the looters will be back,” said Hunter.
“Who?” asked Jay as they helped him to his feet.
“The people who forced us to do this,” Leah replied, indicating the stairs. “They burned the building across the street and ransacked the one next door.”
“People did that on purpose?” Jay gasped. I should have come sooner. I should have listened to Mac…
Once stretched out on Erin’s bed, they plied Jay with a pack of uncooked Ramen noodles and a cup of chilly, room temperature water. Thom and Hunter left, to let Leah reunite with her dad in peace.
As Jay munched the delicious, manna-like uncooked noodles, Leah recounted everything that had happened since Impact the previous Friday.
Jay swallowed the last dry bit of noodles and looked at the doorway. His eyes felt thick. “You stabbed someone?”
Leah’s face wavered before she broke down into tears again and buried her face in his chest. He smoothed her hair, holding his precious daughter with all his remaining strength. By the gods, he’d made it. He’d found her. The thought that he’d almost lost her just hours before he’d arrived scared Jay more than he’d ever let her know.
“It’s okay now, Daddy’s here,” he murmured in a thick voice, slipping back in time to when she was a toddler and would come to his room in the middle of the night after a bad dream. Leah squeezed his neck with a strength no toddler ever possessed.
At last she sat back, drying her eyes and he let go. “What do we do now?” she whispered.
Jay sighed. He stretched his legs, relishing the feeling of relaxation seeping through his finally warm limbs. “As long as I don’t have to walk, I don’t care.”
"Well, we have to do something…and soon.” Leah told him about Becca.
Jay stared at his daughter. “She was shot?” He swore. “She can’t stay here. She needs a doctor.”
“That’s what I said,” Leah agreed. “But without a car, I didn't know what to do…or where to take her?”
Jay pulled back his sleeve, flicking away a broken pine twig. “It’s almost 4 o’clock. I’m supposed to check in with Mac in about ten minutes. I’ll see what he thinks.”
“Mac?” Leah asked her eyes brightening. “He's here?”
Jay smiled. “I wouldn’t have made it without him.” The smile faded as he remembered the attacks on the road, the carjacking, the shooting in Blooming Grove. “It’s bad out there, priya. Real bad.”
Leah smiled and tucked a lock of black hair over one ear. “You haven’t called me that since I was a baby.”
“Out there on the road…” Jay cleared his throat. “When I was walking…thinking of you, remembering you—it was all that kept me going.”
“You came for me,” she whispered. “I knew you would. I knew it.”
Jay struggled to his aching feet, waving off her offer to help. “We’re only half way, Leah. I won’t be able to rest until you’re safe. Away from…this,” he said, looking around. “What happened out there? It looked like the dining hall exploded.”
Leah stared at the window. “Looters. They set fire to the dorm across the street, too. Then they came here. We barely beat them back.” She sniffed and wiped her face. “But we can’t stay here—I think they’ll be back, and Aaron and the others already left.”
“Well, let’s go see your patient before I call Mac and we’ll see what can be done.”
When Jay saw the girl’s pallid complexion, the blood-stained rags wrapped around her side, and the sheen of sweat on her forehead, he didn’t wait until the proscribed time to call Mac. He immediately pulled out the radio, walked over to the closest window, and stuck the little whip antenna outside.
“Mongoose calling Iceman. Come in!”
“Mongoose?” Leah asked, one hand over her mouth. “Iceman? Dad—what the hell are you—”
“Ssssh,” Jay whispered. He repeated his call three times before Mac answered.
“Mongoose, I copy you, five-by. You’re early—did you find the package?”
“Package? What package?” Leah asked.
Jay pointed at her and winked. “I did—but I’ve got a problem. One of the students has been shot and I need to know what to do for her.”
“I'm a package?” She glared at him. “You two are so weird.”
Jay spent the next several minutes relaying information about the attack, the nature of the injury, and describing the girl’s symptoms. When Mac asked him to step into a private area, he knew the prognosis wasn’t good.
“Mongoose, you alone?”
“Yes,” Jay replied, nervous for the answer.
“She’s not going to make it, I’m sorry. I think it’s been too long.”
Jay leaned his head against the only window in the cold room next to the makeshift infirmary. The bed, desk, and dresser were all gone, replaced by piles of clothes, bits of broken wood, and dirty sheets. He suspected most of what had been in this room now resided somewhere in the stairwell down the hall.
“What do I do?”
The silence was telling. “I don’t know. I’m no doc, but my guess is she’s either lost too much blood by this point or she’s got an infection. Either way, she doesn’t have much time left. I could be wrong though,” Mac added. “I’ve seen men I thought would surely die make a miracle comeback…”
“But they were always in hospitals,” Jay said.
“Not always,” replied Mac. “But I don’t want to get your hopes up. You can’t make plans based on her—you need to get out while you can. If what you’re telling me is true, I think your daughter’s right—those looters may return for some payback. You don’t want to be there when that happens.”
“We can’t walk all the way back home,” Jay moaned. “I don’t think I could walk downstairs.”
“You’ve got to find a car then. Beg, borrow, or steal—you have got to acquire a vehicle and get out of there.”
Jay concluded the conversation by offering Mac thanks for his medical opinion and promised to radio again in the evening when they had more time. For now, he needed to figure out a way to get three college students and one seriously wounded girl off campus.
He hobbled back into Becca’s room and stood in the doorway, staring down at her limp form, ignoring the trio of hangdog looks.
“Well, what did he say?” asked Leah, her eyes glittering with unshed tears.
Jay swallowed. She knew, he could tell by the look on her face. “He doesn’t know,” he lied. “It’s hard to say over the radio like that, you know?”
Thom wasn’t buying it either, judging by the sour look on his face. Jay was thankful he at least had the forbearance to keep quiet while he scowled at the ground.
“We’ve got to get out of here and the only way to bring her with us would be a car.” Jay shrugged. “I can hardly walk at this point, folks. So do any of you know where we can get one?”
“Nope,” Hunter said, a smug look on his face. “But I think you do, man.”
Jay looked from Hunter to Leah and back. “What are you talking about?”
The lank-haired student pulled a set of keys from his pocket with a jingle. “These fell out of that bag you brought, the black one. Where’d you get it?”
Jay shook his head. “It was in the back of a police car I found on Main Street,” he said, gesturing north. “It was almost wrapped around a light pole. There was blood on the street by the driver’s door. The cop who drove it wasn’t there. From the way it looked, I don’t think it’ll work.”
Thom crossed his arms. “Did you try to start it?”
Jay scoffed at the idea. “I didn’t stick around. I grabbed the bag and kept moving.”
Leah got to her feet. “So you don’t know if it’ll work or not…”
“No…” Jay said. “By the way it looked, I doubt it. It was pretty beat up, guys.”
“So are we, but we’re still here,” commented Hunter with a far-off look on his face.
Solar Storm (Season 1): Aftermath [Episodes 1-5] Page 31