Faux Pas (A Road's End Mishap Book 2)

by Deborah Dee Harper

  It hit me that Mel and the others might not have gotten the message. I ran through the kitchen, hollering directions to my panicking neighbors to take one of the two routes to the basement, and skidded around the corner. I met Mack and STR at the door between the dining room and kitchen.

  I jerked my thumb in the direction of my office and said, “Sadie.”

  STR caught my drift immediately and stopped dead in his tracks. He pulled away from Mack and said, “I can take care of myself, Mack. You go with Hugh to get Sadie.” Anticipating Mack’s reaction, he added, “That’s an order, Mack. You go. I’ll be fine.”

  Mack agonized for a split second, but even I could see the president meant business. Mack was defeated, and he knew it. He charged down the hall with me right on his heels. A few seconds later, Mel and Irene followed Mack out of the office, Sadie lying limp, but safe, considering the circumstances, in his arms. Thankfully, the other ladies had joined their husbands a few minutes before Mack dropped his bombshell, leaving only Irene and Mel in the room with Sadie. With any luck at all, everyone else should be downstairs taking cover.

  But this was Road’s End, where nothing is as it should be.

  Surrounded by the bedlam that followed Mack’s warning, STR turned to follow the others downstairs when the dining room door was flung open by a particularly strong gust of wind. Startled, he looked back and saw a small, silver-furred cat scurry outdoors into the maelstrom bent on chasing the leaves dancing on the wind. Horrified, the president spotted Tanner slip away, Puppy One discarded just inside the door. STR tried to push his way past a woman in a gigantic hat, but she was intent on keeping hold of the floral arrangement atop her head and didn’t notice the most powerful man in the world trying to get past her.

  “Tanner, stop!” With senior citizens hurrying past him, with shouts and shoves and pushing and panic all around him, STR could only watch in utter dismay as his grand-nephew, clad only in his Power Ranger pajamas, left the relative safety of the house to rescue his cat.

  It was then that most powerful man in the world followed the little boy in the Power Ranger pajamas into the black, swirling anger of the storm-tossed night.

  At the same time the president was dashing into the maelstrom, Mandy screamed in horror. “Tanner! Tanner, come back here!” Jonathan was beside her in an instant. “He pulled away from me when the cat jumped down. Oh, Jonathan, we have to find him.”

  She started toward the dining room, but her husband took her by the arm. “No, you go to the basement. I’ll find him. I promise.” Before she could protest, he said, “No, I mean it. I can’t worry about both of you. I’ll bring him back. I promise.”

  She watched her husband push his way past George and Martha Washington, shove aside a dining room chair, and nearly leap over the table. “Tanner! Tanner, it’s Daddy. Come here, son. Tanner!”

  Jonathan looked back at Mandy, shook his head, then turned and ran out the door. Mandy reached the dining room just in time to see him swallowed up in the wind and rain. She bent down and picked up Puppy One who was leaning against the door jamb. “Oh, Tanner,” she whispered. “Please, God. Please keep him—them—safe out there. Please.”

  Chapter 42

  Mack cradled Sadie in his arms and hustled downstairs with Irene and Mel right behind him while I made a quick sweep of the house to make sure no one had been left behind. Empty—even Frank had roused long enough to run for his life. Unless someone had dashed upstairs, which they had no reason to do, I'd accounted for everyone and could go downstairs to join my family and friends to await whatever would happen. I parted the drapes at one of the windows that flanked the fireplace and peered into the night. The rain obliterated everything beyond the glass, but the sound of hail skittering against the windows and atop our roof was a dark foreboding of the funnel cloud that I feared was headed straight for us.

  I dropped the drape and prayed as I half-ran from the living room window to the dining room. “Please, Lord, take care of Your children. We are scared, God. Scared out of our minds. Please protect all of us. Send an army of mighty angels to protect this town and its residents from the wrath of this storm. I pray this in Your Son’s Holy Name. Amen.”

  I dashed into the dining room, which, with all the candles extinguished by either gusts of wind or the crush of humanity, was lit only by the nearly continual flashes of lightning. The door was open, the porch roof only partially protecting the interior of the house from the fury of the storm outside its walls. Gusts of wind blew the water indoors as if a bucket brigade was just outside. The candles were extinguished, which didn’t surprise me considering the fury of the storm and the crush of humanity that pressed against every person and piece of furniture in the room.

  I ran to shut the door. I didn’t see Mandy at first, but a flash illuminated the room enough for me to see her leaning against the wall beside the door, sobbing. I rushed to her side. ‘Honey, what’s wrong?’

  “It’s Tanner. He got away from me, and I think he ran after Pewter. Jonathan’s out looking for him.” She buried her head in her hands, and I put my arms around her. What a wedding night those two were having.

  “He’ll find him, Mandy. I know he will.” I looked around. “Why do you think he’s outside?” She held up Puppy One. “Oh.” She was right. Tanner wouldn’t leave Puppy One alone unless it was to keep his new stuffed animal dry. “Listen, you get downstairs. I’m going after Jonathan and Tanner. We’ll bring him back, hon. I promise.” I pushed her toward the kitchen. “Hurry up now.”

  Mack stood slowly and stepped out from under the lowered ceiling in the area he’d tucked Sadie into and rose to his full height, glancing around the room. Pandemonium reigned. It appeared that everyone, and no one, was in charge. While the women grabbed anything soft—extra blankets, pillows, and towels Mel had stored in plastic containers down there—to hand out for added protection, the men argued about the best place to hide. Since they had no idea from which direction the funnel cloud approached, they didn’t know which corner was the safest.

  George and Dewey were having a spat about the origin of bad storms. George clung to his lifelong theory that airliners caused them.

  “Whatcha think they mean when they talk ’bout turbulence?” he said, pronouncing it turb-a-linse. “Storms is what they mean, George. Thunderstorms. Tornaders. Those airliners, heck, some of ’em are bigger’n this whole town here. Don’tcha think those jet engines might just stir up some lightnin’ and such?”

  Dewey was having none of that scientific jibber-jabber. He scoffed at George and said, “The devil. That’s who does it, George. The devil.” He said no more on the subject, not that they had much time, anyway, between scurrying from corner to corner, tossing pillows at one another, hollering at the wives to “hunker down ’n cover yer heads!”

  The townspeople were crouched, finally, under some sturdy workbenches. Pastor Parry led them in a short prayer while Irene and Mel hovered over a still-unconscious Sadie, ready to protect her if need be.

  Mack noticed Senator Gilbert Austin standing off to one side, obviously trying not to touch anything lest dust or grime rub off on his expensive suit. Even in the dim light, Mack thought Austin looked a little green around the gills, but then fear will do that to a person. Interestingly enough, he’d been one of the very first to dash downstairs at Mack’s announcement, leaving his wife and all the others to fend for themselves. That fact hadn’t gone unnoticed by Mack or some of the others, no doubt. He’s lucky Sadie wasn’t conscious. She’d read him the riot act. Once she did awaken, she’d no doubt do that very thing since Mack had noticed Road’s Enders like to let Sadie do their dirty work for them.

  Both Artie and Reynolds stood next to Austin, prepared to give their lives if a beam came crashing down atop the senator’s perfectly-coiffed head, although neither one looked particularly inclined to do so. Mack didn’t blame them.

  All that took about five seconds. Mack was accustomed to hearing, seeing, and evaluating any situation at
light speed. He continued his scan of the room. His stomach plunged to his toes. “Anyone seen the president?”

  Most of the residents looked around briefly.

  “No, not me.”

  “Unh uh.”

  “... of the United States? That president?”

  “Nope. Sure haven’t. Not the em-per neither.”

  Mack groaned. The president was not downstairs where he belonged, and if this tornado hit, he’d be blown into the Chesapeake Bay. Mack took the basement stairs three at a time and burst into the dining room at the same time Hugh sent Mandy downstairs.

  Mack nearly bowled me over. “Where is he? The president?”

  I shook my head and pointed to the front door then filled him in. Then it dawned on me. If Mandy was right, Tanner and Jonathan were out there in that storm with a funnel cloud bearing down on us all. My guts twisted. With STR missing too, it could only mean one thing. All three of them were out there.

  Mack was outside and in the front yard before I’d finished my thought.

  I ran after him. For the second time that night, my feet sank into the waterlogged yard, and I did a few fancy steps to keep from falling face first into the mud and muck. Nickel-sized hail pummeled us like a swarm of stinging bees. I could only imagine how it must feel on Tanner’s little shoulders and head. Lord, please protect him. Please show us where he is.

  I didn’t know if sticking with Mack or splitting off by myself was the right way to go. I chose to stay close to him, if for no other reason than knowing he could scoop up Tanner and be back in the house before I could hoist the little guy into my arms. Besides, he was trained to protect the President of the United States, and I knew he’d do that regardless of any danger to himself. That in itself wouldn’t allow him to quit until he found both of them. This was a good time to have Mack on and by my side.

  Progress was infuriatingly slow. We both yelled, but the powerful winds swallowed our words and spit them back into the relentless downpour of rain and hail. We could have been two inches from one of them and still our cries would fall on ears deafened by the destruction happening all around us. Time ticked by—it might have been ten seconds or ten minutes. I couldn’t have told you. The world that just a few hours ago had been a glorious night of beauty and happiness had turned to a frenzy of annihilation, a gigantic, horrifying blender that whirled tree branches and leaves, roofing tiles and any other item in town left loose outdoors, into a mixture of deadly weapons.

  That included hundreds of glass jars that just a few hours ago had illuminated the grounds with an enchanting glow. It was as if the devil had come to the party, then stayed to destroy it.

  Turns out he had.

  Chapter 43

  George was not a patient man, so when the tornado failed to obliterate everything five minutes after Mack sent everyone scurrying for safety, he grew bored.

  Dewey nudged him, leaned his head toward him, and said in a low voice, “Notice what I just saw?”

  Since there wasn’t much to look at in the basement aside from polyester pant legs and cobwebs, they’d both been watching Senator Gilbert Austin and his two bodyguards on the other side of the room. George couldn’t help but notice the same thing Dewey was probably trying to tell him. Both Artie and Reynolds seemed anxious to take leave of the cranky senator, and within a minute or so, first one, then the other walked back up the stairs.

  That was enough for George of the daring duo. He leaned forward to push himself up. “Time to go to work.”

  Joe and Rudy scuttled out from beneath the workbench and over to Senator Austin. He gave them a dirty look for their trouble. Both men nodded to George, who then looked to make sure their wives were occupied still with fussing over Sadie and tucking blankets and pillows around one another. They were. He looked at Joe, pointed upward, then, trailed closely by Dewey, traipsed upstairs, leaving the safety of the basement. The two waited upstairs for Leo, Sherman, and Dodge. In the interests of safety and expediency, they left Frank behind, and over his protests, the men decided Pastor Parry should remain in the basement with the women for prayer support.

  The assignments given out earlier in the evening now awaited completion. It was official: the men of Road’s End, a.k.a., Gray Ops, were on the move. They had a job to do, and by golly, a tornado wasn’t about to stop them.

  Mack couldn’t believe he’d been dumb enough to leave the president unattended. But what choice had he had? He couldn’t very well leave an ailing senior citizen, Sadie Simms or not, alone to be blown away in the storm … and STR made it very clear he wasn’t about to be given preferential treatment, POTUS or not, while an old woman was left to the danger of a violent storm. In truth, though, Mack was glad he’d made sure both Melanie Foster and Irene were safely underground as well. But now he’d lost track of the president and during a tornado, no less. He’d have the badge, and the hide, of any of his agents who pulled a stunt like that. Now here he was, stumbling around in the middle of the biggest storm he’d ever seen looking for the leader of the free world. He expected the funnel cloud to eradicate the town any second now. How could he have been so stupid? Of course, he’d be out here in any event to look for the little boy—no doubt the reason STR was out here in the first place. Still ...

  The threat he’d been warned of earlier in the week didn’t help matters any. Yes, the storm might put an end to any possibility of its success, but then, what better way to disguise an assassination attempt than to proceed in the middle of a natural disaster? He couldn’t imagine a worse scenario.

  I was quickly losing hope that we’d find either Tanner or the president before the twister arrived. If I’d had the time and he could hear a single word I said, I’d have asked Mack if he had more details about the direction, speed, and strength of the tornado. But that wasn’t possible and knowing wouldn’t change the circumstances or stop it in its tracks. Besides, knowing the full truth might immobilize me with fear.

  I knew what I had to do—what I always do in times of distress or hurt. I threw myself into the arms of the Lord. Please, Lord, guide us to Tanner and the president. Show us the way. Protect us all and keep us safe in Your arms.

  Despite my dreary surroundings and dire state of affairs, I immediately felt better. This storm might be out to get Road’s End, but God was still in control of our lives. If it was His will that we escape its clutches unscathed, then that’s precisely what would happen. If not, well, we’d be in heaven with Him and nothing would ever hurt us again.

  I no longer worried about a bolt of lightning striking the oak tree I’d found Sadie lying under. There were a host of other ways to die that night, and I’d be just as dead from one as the other. Besides, it seemed logical that Tanner might have taken refuge against its trunk; perhaps even the president. With any luck, we’d find both of them huddled together. If we didn’t have time to get them back to the basement, at least Mack and I could do our best to shield them.

  Bent over at the waist, I charged headfirst into the wind. Clearly, the wind was winning. I’m not sure I made any headway at all; for all I knew, I was walking backward. Another minute or so ticked by, accompanied by slashing gusts of rain-laden wind and punishing hail. I couldn’t see any way a little boy could withstand such punishment.

  What on earth compelled him to go out into this kind of weather? He must be terrified. The fact that I might lose him right after knowing he even existed was an appalling, wrenching notion. I shook my head to dismiss it. I needed to focus, to trust God would lead me to him.

  I wracked my brain to figure out where he might be or what he was doing out here in the first place. Surely it was something incredibly important to him. Mandy and Jonathan were inside, so he didn’t follow either one of them. Irene had been with Mel, Mack, and Sadie, and I’d watched Senator Austin elbow his way through the crowd of older folks as quickly as he could to reach the basement steps before anyone else. Surely, Tanner wouldn’t follow that man anywhere, let alone out into a storm like this. I couldn’
t imagine the president wandering out here; I was positive he had followed Tanner, not the other way around. That left ... what? Who?

  Pewter! It had to be Pewter. For some reason, the cat left the house, or Tanner was afraid she had, and the little boy went after her. The president followed. Great. Now I had three lives hanging in the balance here. But at least I had some idea of what Tanner might be doing and that gave me an idea of where he might be.

  I was standing in the middle of the kitchen garden— Mel’s garden was going to be nothing more than a pile of mud and slivers of leaves and stems—and tried to shelter my eyes long enough to figure out which direction I needed to go. Not an easy task with hurricane-force winds slapping my eyeballs. Amazingly, I was still on the path heading north and plowed forward between the sectioned-off raised gardens my poor wife was so proud of until I reached the opening in the fence. I caught a whiff of onion—must be the chives.

  Beyond the garden lay the backyard that stretched north until it butted up against Emma River’s property. Somewhere in that black, tumultuous expanse stood—I hoped—my outbuildings.

  Mack was as close to crying as he’d ever been. He was quickly running out of time in which to save the president, let alone places to look before the funnel cloud wiped Road’s End and everyone in it off the face of the map. Was this the way the President of the United States would die? Caught out in a storm because the agent assigned to guard him against any and all danger wasn’t smart enough to make the president follow him down the basement stairs? It didn’t matter to Mack that he would no doubt die in the same storm. What mattered was that he let down the man he’d sworn to protect with his life—a man who had never done a thing to harm anyone, who’d been through enough stress and strain and grief and pain during the last three years to drive a lesser man insane. The man who could, if he decided to run for re-election and finally stood up to that obnoxious Gilbert Austin, turn this country around.