Cheryl kissed him. “You’re really a soft touch beneath that stone cold exterior.”
Chapter 35
Karla knocked on the manager’s door. She’d been at it three days and this was the eleventh campground she had visited. A heavy woman in a print dress came to the door of the rustic cabin.
“Can I help ya?” she said.
Karla held out a picture of Jessie. “I’m trying to find my daughter. Have you seen her? She’s travelling with a man and woman in a truck type RV.”
The woman gazed at the picture. “They were here. Stayed a week.”
“When did they leave?”
“People started pullin’ out a few days ago. They were among the first.”
“Do you have any idea where they went?”
“Well, they didn’t go east or south. Guess that leaves north and west.”
“Is there anyone here who you think might have spoken with them?”
“They were in fifty-two. You can go up that way and ask. I think there’s still a couple in fifty-four who’s been here a while.”
Karla thanked the woman and turned for her truck. The woman followed with her eyes, taking in the tags. “You drive all the way here from Iowa by yourself?”
“Yes ma’am, I did.”
The woman shook her head. “You best be careful. Times ain’t what they was.”
Karla turned at the truck and gave a half smile. “Thank you, ma’am. I always try to be prepared.”
A thirty foot trailer was parked at site fifty-four—a 3500 Chevy face-in next to it. Karla pulled into site fifty-three and walked over, taking her time. A man pushing seventy stepped out of the trailer and eyed her.
Karla stopped ten feet short of the man. “Have you got a couple minutes we could talk? I’m looking for my daughter. She was in fifty-two a few days ago.”
“Ellen?” the man said, “You must a been a child bride.”
Karla laughed. “No, Jessie, the nine-year-old with them.” Karla held out a picture and moved closer.
“That’s her.”
Karla waited, expecting more, but it didn’t come. “Sir, Jessie is my daughter. She was kidnapped in January. I’ve tracked her here. I need to know where she is.”
“You say she’s yours, but how do I know that’s true? I’ve had dinner with Roger and Ellen. They’re nice people, good parents. The girl is a charmer. She appeared perfectly at home with them.”
“Roger is her father. We are divorced. The judge refused him custody. He is only allowed supervised visits, and he refused the opportunity for three years. I do not wish to air our dirty laundry, but he forfeited his rights to see Jessie.”
The man stared at Karla. “I’ve seen nasty divorces. This looks like one of them. I will not be inserted into the mess. If what you say is true, let the authorities iron it out. The girl looks clean and fed. These days, that’s something on its own.”
Karla shook her head. “You are screwing up a little girl’s life, besides aiding a criminal. I don’t know . . .”
A woman appeared in the doorway. She was silver headed, thin, and wore sweat pants and a flowing top. “What’s going on, Freddy?”
“This woman says Roger and Ellen are kidnappers.”
“They have my daughter, ma’am. I’m trying to locate them and get Jessie back.”
The woman stared out at Karla and her truck beyond. “Tell me about Jessie.”
“She’s nine years old, be ten June 2nd. She’s got a sweet smile that never quits. It shows a missing top tooth third from center. Her hair is straw blond and she likes when I braid it. She loves to read, ride horses, and jump into fresh shelled corn. In January, she wanted to be a teacher. A month before that an astronaut. She eats pistachio ice cream and laughs at her tongue in the mirror. She hates beets and . . . .”
“They went to Daniel Boone,” The woman said. “At least that’s what they told me.”
“Thank you,” Karla said. “Did they offer any particular route?”
“No. Just they thought it was a safer place to be.”
Karla returned to the truck an opened a map. The Daniel Boone National Forest appeared as a narrow, hundred fifty mile swatch of green running diagonally across Kentucky starting at the Tennessee line. She checked the internet from her phone and found nine RV campgrounds within the national forest and twenty-six more nearby. Several more days of searching, but she was closing in. She was going to find Jessie.
Karla worried about her house and what would remain of her supplies when she returned. It didn’t matter. The certainty she felt over rescuing Jessie outweighed any risk. She started the truck and drove north.
She hit a checkpoint within five miles. The dozen men with rifles were civilians. There had been militia at the checkpoints she’d passed the previous two days as well. That made her more than a little nervous. What had happened to the police?
The point man held up his hand. Karla eased to a stop. He glanced into the cab, then into the bed beneath the shell. He waved her on without a word. A lone woman from Iowa apparently represented not the least threat to them.
* * *
The Great Meadows Campground near Whitley City was furthest south. Karla drove in at dusk and parked at one of the few empty sites. She made a pretense of getting organized in the bed, then started on a walk around the circle. Many people were sitting out, but she knocked on a few doors as well. She showed Jessie’s picture and asked after Roger and Ellen. One couple remembered them from Tennessee, but hadn’t seen them since.
Across the access road were more sites and Karla inquired there, too. She returned to her truck after full dark and cooked a can of stew on a propane stove. She ate sitting on the tailgate in the soft glow of the amber cargo lights. Her high hopes had been dashed. The end of the chase was near. She believed that, but was still disappointed to come up empty, though it was the first campground.
A trim woman in shorts and sneakers stepped over from the next site. She put out a hand and introduced herself as Pam. Her husband sat near a low fire, watching.
“Does it bother you, out here alone?” she asked.
“The first night, a little. I’m okay, now.”
“You heard about Tennessee? It’s only a few miles off.”
“I was in Pigeon Forge the last few days. Bands of men were said to be roaming the Smokies, but the real trouble was closer to Chattanooga. I think we’re safe here.”
Pam frowned. “On the radio, they said refugees from Georgia had crossed the border, overrun small towns, and stole everything. They broke into homes and killed people. It sounded like something from the third world.”
“I met some folks from Marietta, yesterday. They said with Atlanta gone, the place is crazy. The Army claims to be in charge but no one is feeding people.”
“The European Union is sending supplies.” Pam said. “Brazil and Australia pledged, too. Can you imagine? They volunteered troops as well, but Dolores Hart turned them down.”
“Yeah, I heard that. A few hundred tons airlifted to camps in New York and Virginia. How long will that last?”
“Darrell says the world’s going to end when the food runs out. People will kill each other over scraps till there’s nothing left.”
“I don’t see it ending,” Karla said. “But certainly fewer people and a much different life.”
“Darrell wants to join a group he read about in Idaho.”
“I hope he has an invitation. It looks like welcome mats will be rolling up pretty fast.”
She shook her head. “We live in Florida. We can’t get home. Our son was in New York. Our daughter in Seattle. We’ve no place, now.”
Karla felt the emotion in the woman’s voice, knew she was close to tears. “I’m sorry. Hard times are really on us.”
“You can come with us, if you like. Darrell says people should travel in groups, that it’s safer.”
“Thank you, but as I said when I came by earli
er, I’m here to find my daughter. That’s all I care about right now.”
Pam looked to her husband, poking the fire. “If you wanted to park next to us it would be okay.”
“I’m fine, really.”
Pam stepped back. “I wish I had your confidence.” She moved off to join her husband.
Karla shut off the cargo lights and walked to the bathrooms. She discarded her trash, washed her spoon, and got ready for bed. When she returned to the truck, she climbed into the bed and locked up behind her. She stretched out on the sleeping bag. The night was warm but she didn’t open the curtained windows. She reached for her duffle and extracted a pump action 20 gauge shotgun. She made sure it was ready to fire and laid it beside her. She pulled the 9mm from her belt and tucked it under the cushion she used for a pillow.
In morning’s first light, Karla peeked out the windows before opening up. She strolled to the bathrooms, shotgun in hand. She remained cautious when no one was about.
Pam stepped out the door of her rig as Karla approached on the return. She eyed the gun. “I wondered about that, last night.”
“A modern girl’s best friend.”
“Do you know how to use it?”
Karla questioned where Pam had come from. “Wouldn’t be much point in carrying it if I didn’t.”
“Have you ever . . . .”
“Shot anyone? No.”
“But you’re ready to.”
“If that’s what it takes.”
“I’d like to have you with us.”
“You can still buy guns, most places. One of the few businesses still doing okay.”
“I taught school in Delaware. Darrell was an accountant. We play bridge. We’re not gun people.”
Karla felt sorry for her chances. “Then Darrell is probably right. Best to travel in groups.”
Karla said goodbye and moved on to her truck. A bearded man leaned against a tree at the edge of woods, watching her. She ate a grape jelly sandwich, stowed the shotgun, and headed for the next campground.
Chapter 36
Ray hit two roadblocks before getting onto I-140. He talked his way through, but noticed a bullet riddled sedan pushed to the side at the second checkpoint. He spotted an Army blockade at the I-75 interchange and turned back. He worked side roads around Knoxville then rejoined I-75 at Lake City, well to the north.
Traffic remained heavy and slow on the interstate, then stopped altogether approaching the Kentucky line. Ray studied the map and saw no alternative. The last exits had been manned by troopers and marked local traffic only.
Vehicles trickled south on the interstate. As Ray crawled closer to the checkpoint, it became clear that most of the southbound traffic originated from the Kentucky State Police turning northbound cars away. Ray’s papers weren’t in order. He hoped the Kentuckians were easier to deal with than the Army.
“Jessie,” Ray said. “Some more men are going to ask us questions. We need to tell them things that are not true. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
“If they ask, I’m going to tell them you are my niece. Is that okay?”
“Uh huh. Like Aunt Ellen.”
They crept forward. Ray prepped Jessie and Cheryl. A uniformed officer spent three minutes with a man and woman in the truck ahead and sent them back. Ray glanced at the Georgia plates. The trooper signaled and Ray moved to the stop line.
“Where you folks going?”
“Iowa,” Ray said. “Cedar Rapids.”
The trooper glanced at a mirror angled behind them. “I see Tennessee tags. You planning to stay up there?”
“For now, we’re bringing my niece home. She’s been visiting with us in Gatlinburg.”
The trooper leaned in the window and got Jessie’s attention. “So, you live in Iowa, Miss?”
Jessie rattled off her address.
“Bet your folks will be glad to see you.”
Jessie smiled. “I miss Mommy.”
“How about your father, don’t you miss him?”
“He doesn’t live with us anymore.”
“How long since you’ve been home?”
“January twenty-third.” That was the now famous day of the first bomb. Ray hadn’t prepped her for that one.
The trooper withdrew from the window. “Her mother thought she’d be safer there, huh?”
“It looked like it then,” Ray said. “You never know how things are going to work out.”
The trooper waved them through.
They drove north uninterrupted, passing through Lexington and Louisville then crossed into Indiana at dusk. Troopers sat in cars across the bridge but did not maintain a roadblock. Ray stopped at an interstate rest area north of Henryville and parked. He dug a blanket from the back and handed it to Cheryl.
“Lock the doors and see if you can get some sleep. I’ll slip under the tarp.” Ray handed her the .38. “Looks peaceful, but see anything you don’t like, bang on the back.”
* * *
They made Cedar Rapids in the afternoon, and with some searching, found North Marion Road in farm country north of the city. Ray drove slowly as Jessie looked things over. She pointed out a friend’s house and said to keep going.
“There!”
Ray slowed to a crawl, saw a vehicle beside the garage, and said, “Is that your Mommy’s truck?”
“Un uh.”
Ray drove past. “You are sure this is where you live?” He felt like an idiot asking.
“Yes!”
“You don’t recognize that truck?”
Jessie shook her head.
“Jessie, we need to be careful. Your mother may not be here right now. We have to see who is, before we go to the door.”
She nodded.
Ray turned around and parked a little down from the house, blocked from view by a couple spruce trees.
“Just wait here with Auntie Cheryl. I’ll be right back.”
Ray pocketed two spare clips for the Beretta and stepped from the truck. He circled the house using trees and outbuildings for cover. The doors and windows were barred, unusual, he thought, for anywhere but a big city. From the east side, Ray saw two things he didn’t like: the louvered attic vent had been removed; the bars from a back facing garage window leaned against the wall.
Ray approached and peered through the open garage window. Boxes and bags were stacked on the floor. No one was in the garage, but he heard a voice, male. People with permission used keys and doors. He pulled the gun from his belt and eased through the window.
On the opposite wall, the frame to an inside door had been broken out. He stepped to it and listened. A second voice called out, also male but in a higher register. Ray crept inside, heard footsteps, and slipped beside the refrigerator. A barrel-chested man stepped past carrying a box. Ray jabbed the Beretta behind the man’s ear.
“What the . . .”
“Slowly place the box on the table.”
The man complied.
“Now, face down on the floor.”
“Man, don’t . . .”
Ray smacked the man’s head. “On the floor. Hands behind your back.”
He dropped to the floor. Ray tied the man’s big hands with an electric cord still attached to a lamp.
“On your knees and get your friends down here.”
He hesitated and Ray hit him again, harder. “Tell them you found something interesting.”
The man hesitated. Ray shrugged and raised the gun.
“Lucas, Stoney, got somethin’ good here.”
Ray moved behind the table. He heard a floorboard creak. He propped the Beretta on the table and held it two-handed, aimed at the doorway.
“Dee, what’s up?” A voice from around the corner.
The man on the floor looked to Ray with a pained expression. Ray motioned for him to answer.
“In here, man.”
A man stepped into the room, low, his gun swinging side to s
ide. Ray shot him. He bounced off the counter and slumped to the floor. Ray crossed the room and took his gun.
“There’s one more. He have a gun?”
“No, man, he’s just a kid.”
“Get him down here or he’s gonna be a dead one. I ain’t takin’ chances on you tellin’ the truth.”
“Lucas. Man’s got a gun on me. He has to come after you, he’s gonna be lookin’ to shoot.”
Ray opened drawers, found duct tape and secured Dee’s hands and feet. He heard a scraping sound from above—a chair on a bare floor.
Ray started for the garage. “I’m not going to be long. You’re not right here when I get back, you’re gonna join your friend.”
Ray went out the window, turned the corner and looked up. A slim man wriggled through the vent hole and dropped to the garage roof.
“Hold it right there,” Ray shouted.
The man turned, looked down at Ray, then took a quick step to the edge of the roof and jumped. Ray leaped away and hit the garage wall. The man rolled in the grass and came up with a knife held to throw.
Ray shook his head. “Don’t do it.”
The man’s wrist drew back. Ray fired as the man released the knife. The man spun and fell. The knife sailed past Ray and lodged in the garage wall. Across the yard, Cheryl held Jessie tucked into her waist.
“There’s one more in the house,” Ray said. “Better wait till I get this sorted out.”
He found Dee sitting at the table. “Floor’s hard, man.”
“You saw what happened.”
“Dumb kid.”
“Is that truck stolen?”
“Stoney showed up with it. I didn’t ask.”
Ray cut Dee loose. He held on to the roll of tape. “You’re gonna help me get him out of here.”
“Whatever you say, man.”
“Pick up his arms.”
They carried Stoney’s body to the garage. Ray guided the man’s feet out the window and stepped away, telling Dee to finish the job. Dee pushed him through, then stood by the far wall as Ray climbed out. Dee followed a moment later. They lifted Stoney, put him in the truck bed, then went around the corner for the other man.
Times What They Are Page 14