“We have to get out of here,” Finn said.
“Out the back?” Ava suggested, not taking her eyes off the guys out front.
“We won’t be moving very fast with my leg,” Parker admitted, his voice grim. “Besides, a prolonged gun battle has every chance of alerting FEMA authorities.”
“Maybe that’s not bad,” Ava said. “At least they’d shoot these assholes for us.”
Parker looked at her, surprise on his face.
“What?” Ava demanded. Her voice sounded a little defensive. “I’m joking.”
“Joke or not,” he said, “that’s smart.”
“Uh, Parker,” Finn said, “FEMA forces are looking for us, too,” she pointed out.
“Maybe they won’t look if they think we’re dead.”
“Come again?” Ava asked.
“The meth lab these scumbags have set up.”
“What about it?” Finn asked.
“Meth labs are basically IEDs,” Parker said. “We blow the store, it calls down any FEMA forces for miles, which’ll either decimate or scatter the guys after us, and everyone thinks we’re dead.”
“That’s not a guarantee,” Finn said. “Who says they’ll even realize we were here?”
“No,” Parker agreed, “but it’s possible.”
“Meanwhile, what do we do?” Finn asked. “If FEMA forces swarm the area, the roads are going to be crawling with them.”
Parker shook his head. “We’re done with roads. We cut out the back and hump it over land to the Ohio River. We wait until nightfall there and then slip in and float away. We get lucky, we find a boat we can use and we ride the river all the way down to where we want to go, traveling at night.”
“I know it’s not winter,” Ava said, “but won’t we get cold if we’re in the water all night? What if we don’t find a boat?”
“There’s absolutely every chance we’ll find a boat or canoe or kayak, given the population along the river. If we don’t, we’ll make floats. We’re moving as the crow flies by following the river, and at a higher rate of speed with the current than we could have on foot since the bikes are gone. As for being cold…” Parker stopped. “I’ll think of something.”
“You’ll think of something…” Ava said. She didn’t sound convinced.
Several bullets struck the building near the door, and one round passed through the opening, traveling over their heads. The men outside were finding their ranges.
“Better idea?” he asked. “Time is a factor here.”
“I like the part about blowing up the meth lab,” Ava said. “It’s the river I’m not sold on.”
“So, let’s cross one bridge at a time,” Parker suggested.
Ava studied him. Finally, she nodded.
“Good,” Parker said. He handed the AR to Finn. “You two keep them busy, but try not to burn through all of our ammo.” He turned then and crawled toward the storeroom where Ava had suspected the crew kept their cooking set- up. He turned back. “Tell me if they manage to close more than half the distance,” he told them.
Ava and Finn cut loose with a short salvo. “Burning daylight, Parker,” Ava said.
“We got this,” Finn said.
The AR looked ridiculously oversized in her small hands, but she was handling it with lethal determination. Parker nodded, more to himself than to the girls.
“Yeah, you do,” he said.
Turning, he put the gunfight to his back and entered the storeroom.
14
As a part of joint narcotics task forces, Parker had taken meth familiarization courses. He knew the set-up for cooking meth might as well be a bomb-making factory, and because of their utilizing a technique known as the Cold Method, cookers hadn’t been at all slowed down by the EMP.
As Parker well knew when he was being honest with himself, addiction hadn’t stopped with the Event. Addicts went right on being addicts, and the tighter the control the substance held, the more of a top priority securing sources became. It looked like this crew had prioritized meth right to the top of their proverbial to-do list. Everything was here: red phosphorus, hypophosphorous acid, lithium metal compounds, acetone…everything an aspiring pyromaniac could hope for. There were even a dozen propane tanks left over from the days before the EMP.
There was also a lot of meth.
Three large Pyrex casserole dishes filled with uncut crystal sat on a counter next to a HEPA mask. Next to the uncut crystal, he saw three glass pipes he knew were charmingly referred to on the street as “glass dicks.” Next to these was a complete set of lighters in every color—except, of course, the one superstitious addicts avoided: white.
“Too easy,” he said. “About goddamn time I caught even one break.”
He hobbled over toward the propane tanks, passing by the table where a mound of pink, crystalline powder lay.
“No,” he said aloud.
He hesitated, though, assessing the uncut amphetamine, and then his hand shook as he reached for some of the powder. He stopped. He blinked back the sting building behind his eyes. Shame tasted like ash on his tongue. He moved his hand to the casserole dish and used his nail to break off a tiny shard. He looked at it.
Slowly, he brought it to his mouth, and swallowed. Defeated, he felt it go down.
“Oh my god,” Finn said.
Startled, guilty, Parker swung around. His hip bumped the table and sent the powdered meth spilling to the floor.
“Finn—”
“Save it.” Her eyes were dark as she glared at him. “The guys outside? They’re pushing forward. Now would be a good time for us to do our disappearing act.”
“Finn—” he tried again.
“No, Parker,” she said. She sounded like she was fighting tears as much as he was. “No. We don’t have time.”
He nodded. “Get Ava and get to the back door; there’s enough raw material here to put up a mushroom cloud once it goes.”
She nodded and left, and he picked up one of the lighters.
He’d barely eaten all day, and his gut rolled in protest as his stomach acids went to work on the meth spike, but working as quickly as he could, he turned on all eight of the propane tanks in the room after turning them on their sides. Taking a couple of cans of acetone, he splashed one liberally around the hissing nozzles and then spilled out a pool of it to reach beneath them on the floor.
Using the second bottle, he poured a line leading from the puddle out of the room. Finn and Ava finished firing an answering series of return fire through the door, and then they crouched down and made for the back.
They passed Parker as he walked backward, pouring the acetone in a long, liquid fuse. “Clear the rear in case,” he warned.
“Yes, dad,” Ava answered.
He didn’t watch them as he backed up, but after a moment the rear door was held open for him and sunlight spilled into the gloomy building. He stepped outside and let the can he held gurgle out the last of its contents onto the doorjamb in a little pond. He pulled out the lighter.
“Truth time,” he said. “I’ve never seen acetone burn,” he admitted. “I assume it’s mostly like paint thinner. So, fast enough. You two start running—I’ll light it and catch up.”
His skin began tingling, and he felt short waves of euphoria lick at him, but Ava laughed. It was not a sound of amusement.
“Hey, hopalong,” she said. “Maybe you’re the one who needs the head start, you think?”
“Go,” he said. “If something happens, at least you have a chance of getting away.”
She looked like she wanted to argue, but Finn pulled at her arm and the two girls began running across the back lot toward the tree line. Turning around, he lit the acetone and it flamed up instantly. Somewhat mesmerized, he only backed up a step as he watched the flame start running back up his stream.
Then he blinked, shook himself out of it, and turned to run. The meth he’d ingested was nowhere near working at full strength—that was maybe half an hour off—but
with his depleted system, he could already feel it kicking in. He started out in a hobble, each step sending jagged stalagmites of pain shooting through his leg. Gritting his teeth, he doubled down and started running.
Immediately, blood began leaking as his scabs broke open. He pushed through the pain, trying to put distance between himself and the back of the store. His vision had doubled over, though, and he could just make out Finn and Ava before they disappeared into the woods.
He felt the push of the concussion first, followed immediately by waves of heat, and then the ear-splitting assault of the explosion. The kinetic energy picked him up and tossed him. He flew forward, body tumbling, and struck the ground.
Lifting his head, he realized he was deaf. To his amazement, he saw that the tops of the trees in front of him were burning. He tried getting to his feet and found himself choking on a rolling cloud of acrid smoke. Looking to his left, he saw that the cheatgrass in the back lot was on fire.
“Oh, shit,” he said.
He couldn’t hear his own words through the ringing in his ears, but suddenly someone was at his side, pulling at his arm. It was Finn.
He began moving, and saw that Ava was covering their retreat. She yelled something he lip-read as ‘come on!’ But he still couldn’t hear.
He looked back over his shoulder as they moved. Everywhere, thick black smoke hung and roiled. Through the dark heart of it, he saw orange flames burning upward three or four stories high. The pain in his wounded leg brought him back to the present then, and he turned back around as they entered the tree line.
Pushing past the burning trees, he caught a glimpse of the murdered woman’s body; the force of the explosion had thrown her limp body into the branches of a white oak tree. He turned away. Finn kept forcing him to run and, after a moment, Ava was at his other side. They ran through the clearing where they’d spent the day digging, tendrils of smoke spreading through the surrounding copse of trees.
“I’ve got to slow down,” he gasped. This time, he heard his own voice.
“I know you’re not tired,” Finn snapped. “Keep going.”
Gritting his teeth, he pushed himself harder. They broke through the trees and came to a barbwire fence. There was a pasture on the other side and smoke had already begun filling the field. Beyond the pasture was a bluff of cottonwood and birch lining what he knew was the Ohio River.
Ava moved up to the fence and stepped down on the bottom strand while hauling up with both her hands on the middle one, creating a space. Finn scrambled through and then turned to help Parker.
“I’m surprised you aren’t skipping over this fence,” she said.
He almost admired the level of snark in her voice. Ava looked at them, curious, and he focused on the fence.
“We can rest by the river for a moment,” he said, crawling through the gap in the barbwire fence with an awkward hop. Ava ducked through and went to help him up, but he shook her hand away.
His scalp tingled with the meth. All the physical activity had sped up his heart rate and pushed the speed through his system. “I can make it,” he said. “The smoke is good cover.”
“Shit, I bet those assholes pissed themselves when the building went up,” Ava said. “I knew it was going to blow, but … goddamn.”
“Yeah,” Finn said. “Meth’s really bad stuff, right, Parker?”
“Oh screw you,” he said.
“What’s going on with you two?” Ava demanded.
They were halfway across the pasture now, and Parker saw hints of the river through the smoke and trees. Twilight was slipping into night.
“Come on,” he said. “That fire’s going to burn a long time and draw every Council patrol in the area. If they’re smart, those guys will be hightailing it out of here.”
“How smart can they be?” Finn asked. “They do meth—right, Parker?”
Reaching the far fence, Ava again yanked open a gap in the barbwire. “What the hell is going on, Finn?”
“Ask Speedy McSpeederson here,” Finn said.
“Are you making meth jokes?” Ava asked. She was clearly bewildered.
Parker shoved himself through the fence and crawled his way back to his feet. He was breathing heavily, his shirt soaked in sweat. Panting, he looked to catch Finn’s eye, but she stalked off into the woods. The ground slanted down toward the river off the top of the bluff, and Parker had to sling his rifle backward over his shoulder and use his hands to keep from slipping and tumbling down.
“Parker,” Ava said from behind him. “Why is Finn making meth jokes to you?”
He didn’t answer. It was cooler down by the water, and the smoke hung above them. He looked at the river. It was deep and wide, the current swift where they were. He wasn’t going to be swimming for shit, he realized.
“Stop yelling,” he said.
“No one’s yelling,” Ava said. “I’m starting to get a little freaked out, though. What is Finn going on about?”
“We need to look up and down the bank while there’s still light,” he said. “Look for old tires, a fallen tree limb with lots of branches still on it, stuff large enough to hold onto while we float.”
“We’re going to freeze our asses off,” Ava said.
“That’s the Ohio River, in case you weren’t keeping score. It’s about sixty degrees this time of year,” Parker told her, finally looking to her instead of the river. “We’re going to be pretty cold after an hour, but we can push it another thirty to sixty minutes if we need to. We’re going to make much better time floating the river than on anything else we could use. At night, we’ll only have to be worried about being seen as we pass under bridges.”
“More distance than the Council would give us credit for since they know we don’t have transportation?” Ava asked.
Parker nodded. “I won’t lie to you. It’s dangerous being in that water. Debris could strike us from behind and the water’s murky as hell. But I think it’s better than risking a shoot-out.”
Ava nodded. “I’m not that strong a swimmer. As you might recall, I didn’t have parents of the year growing up. I never had formal lessons.”
Parker shook his head. “I can hardly swim with this leg, regardless. Best case, we find a boat or a canoe. Worst case, we form a little log-jam type of a raft, maybe with some tires, and just hitch a ride. We don’t need to hit any one spot, so we don’t have to battle the current when we need to go in; we simply kick diagonally until we reach the bank.”
“Sure, easy,” Finn said, returning to them.
Parker shook his head again. “No, not easy. But not out of the question. People tube the river every summer.”
“What about your leg?” Ava asked. “I don’t think getting in that nasty-ass water is good for it.”
“It’s not,” he agreed. “But we’re thirty miles upstream from my cabin and then we still have to go inland,” he said. “I’d guesstimate, we’ve got four or five hours’ travel until we parallel the river it sits on where it comes into the Ohio. Six, tops. We try that over land, hiding, moving like we’re hunted, we’re talking something like more than a week.”
He was talking too fast, he realized, getting excited about the possibility of the idea of moving as quickly as he thought they could with the river’s help. He forced himself to slow down, to breathe. “But we should keep a guard out for anyone maybe cutting across the pasture,” he finished. He ran his tongue across his teeth.
“This river kills people,” Finn said. “You’re fucking high if you think we can survive that.” She looked at him. “Oh, wait.”
“That’s it!” Ava snapped. “Finn, what the hell is going on?”
“Ask Officer Parker,” Finn replied.
Parker grimaced, nostrils flaring. “Officers nowadays feel up college girls and hang people from street lamps, remember? I’m a civilian, just like you.”
“I guess that makes it okay, then?” Finn shot back. Her cheeks were visibly flushed, even as the last rays of twilight choked o
ut into evening.
“Makes what okay?” Ava demanded. “Seriously, tell me what the fuck is going on!”
Parker winced as she raised her voice again. “Okay, okay, quit yelling or everything we just did could be for nothing.”
“Talk, then!” Ava answered.
“I caught him doing some of the meth!” Finn blurted out. “He’s fucking high right now, Ava. You’ve seen it enough in your parents—look at him.”
Clearly shocked, Ava studied Parker closely; he couldn’t meet her eyes. “Oh my god,” she whispered after a moment. “You’re fucking spun.”
“I needed to take a little to compensate for my leg,” he argued.
“Bullshit,” Ava said. Her voice was soft, but she spoke like someone for whom the truth was finally dawning. “I grew up with that shit…” she trailed off and gazed into the woods, but when she looked at Parker again, her eyes were shining wet. “This whole time, since the TV station?”
“I didn’t have any meth until today,” Parker tried protesting.
“I don’t care,” Ava cut in. “Maybe not meth, but something. Downers, pain pills, Xanax maybe. You’ve been cloudy and indecisive…how could I have not seen it?” She turned from him and slammed her fist into her palm.
“Ava,” Finn began.
Ava waved her off. Turning, she pointed at Parker. “Admit it,” she said. “Don’t you fucking lie to me. I’ve had addicts lie to me my whole life, Parker—my big hero savior, Parker.”
The lie died on his lips. It had been about to come out automatically, without thought. Anything to cover the need, to keep people from finding out. But he wasn’t used to handling meth and it had made him reckless, made his mouth run away from his brain.
“I never claimed to be perfect,” he answered.
His words hung there, sounding lame even to him. Finn looked away, embarrassed for him.
“‘I never claimed to be perfect’,” Ava mimicked sarcastically. “‘I never claimed to be perfect’.” She threw up her hands in mock defeat. “Oh, gee, Parker’s not fucking perfect, so it’s okay he risked our lives and let us follow him, trusting in his judgment while he was high the whole damn time. Because, hey, he’s not perfect.”
Dead End (911 Book 2) Page 12