Survive the Night

by Katie Ruggle

  “Sit,” she said in an almost inaudible voice. Mort must’ve heard, since he settled onto his haunches behind her. She slipped out, debating whether to leave the dogs in the tunnel. She was worried that they’d bark and howl, though, so she let them exit with her and closed the tunnel entrance behind her. The main barn door was closed, so Mort couldn’t go running out into danger.

  Sarah moved toward Bean’s stall, but she couldn’t help but peek out of one of the dusty windows. Her breath caught. The flickering red and orange light that filled the barn was coming from a huge fire—a fire that was destroying the blackened and flattened skeleton of Otto’s house. The wind whipped the flames to higher and higher peaks, both painfully loud.

  Her throat tightened, but she turned her head away from the charred remains and rushed to the oversized stall that Bean shared with Hortense. For a moment, Sarah was grateful for the bad weather, since it meant that Otto had put the animals in the barn for the night. If she’d had to chase Bean down in the pasture, this would’ve been almost impossible.

  The wind slowed for a few moments, and the roar of the fire softened with it. In the sudden slight hush, Sarah heard a shout. She froze as the wind whipped to life again, burying any follow-up. Had she really heard a male voice, or had it just been her imagination? Her stomach jumping anxiously, she grabbed a halter and lead rope off the hook and slid open the stall door.

  Hortense was right there, looking for treats. Nudging the goat to the side, Sarah slid into the stall. Xena followed her in, and Sarah watched Bean, hoping that he wasn’t scared of dogs. The horse’s coat was dark with nervous sweat in patches on his neck and barrel, and his head was high, the whites of his eyes reflecting the red light in an eerie way. He didn’t seem to even notice the dog, though, too concerned with the fire outside to worry about who—and what—was in the stall with him.

  As if testing the theory, Mort pushed his way inside. Sarah moved toward Bean, trying to look as calm and unthreatening as possible. The horse’s muscles twitched with tension as he stood slightly splay-legged. Although he flicked an ear toward her, Bean didn’t look at her. His attention was fixed on the entrance. Sarah followed the horse’s gaze to the closed main doors, and her muscles tightened in warning.

  Mort growled, startling Sarah. Ripping her attention away from the barn doors, she looked down at the dog. Mort’s ears were just as focused as Bean’s—on the main doors. Staring at the entrance again, Sarah tried to swallow, her mouth suddenly dry. All of her instincts were screaming that something bad was coming. Mort had saved their lives earlier. Sarah knew better than to ignore the dog’s warning.

  Choking back creeping panic, she moved toward the stall door. She and the dogs needed to get to the tunnel. In there, they’d be safe until whatever—whoever—was on the other side of the doors left. Then, they could come back for Hortense and Bean. Sarah took a step, her gaze locked on the entrance.

  The door swung open.

  Sarah quickly ducked down. Grabbing both dogs by the collars, she hauled them to the front of the stall, pushing them into a sitting position right under Bean’s hay feeder. Slipping out of the backpack straps, Sarah pressed her back against the wood and pulled her backpack in next to her. If someone didn’t get too close, Sarah, both dogs, and the cat would be hidden.

  It was a long shot, though. If Aaron’s thugs were searching the barn, they wouldn’t just glance inside the stall and then wander away. At the very least, they’d open the door and look. Sarah thought about covering them in the wood shavings that blanketed the stall floor, but then she heard the howl of the wind cut off as the door was pulled shut with a thud.

  Too late.

  Chapter 16

  Otto cruised down Main Street, watching for any activity in the closed businesses. Monroe generally didn’t have a problem with theft or vandalism during the winter, but he liked to keep an eye out, just in case. The building snowstorm had cleared things out even more than usual. Even the gas station had closed early. The town felt abandoned, and Otto wished that he still had Mort in the squad car with him. Not only had he been a good partner, but the dog had been good company, too.

  Lieutenant Blessard was hopeful about getting the funding for a new K9 for Otto in January, but Otto was leaning toward training his own rescue dog. When he first started working with Xena, he was hopeful that she could progress to detection training, but she was still so timid. Confidence was crucial in a K9.

  Thanks to their current officer shortage, the lieutenant had to stay late to meet with the FBI agents who were finally picking up the three occupants of the jail: Aaron Blanchett, Logan Jovanovic, and Jeb Hopp. If Otto had had to do it, there wouldn’t have been anyone available to take calls. Besides, he tried to limit how much time he spent with the trio of prisoners. Every time he saw them, Otto was tempted to punch them in their cruel, smug faces for what they’d done to Sarah.

  A hazy figure outside the general store waved at him, and Otto turned into the lot. As he drew closer, he recognized Grady, the owner and Sarah’s new boss.

  “Hey, Otto,” Grady said as Otto rolled down his window. Small, sharp snowflakes immediately pelted his face. “My truck won’t start. Mind giving me a jump?”

  Otto climbed out, heading to the trunk to get the cables. The wind grabbed the edges of his department-issue coat, making it flap. The promised blizzard was finally here, and it was going to be a rough one. Otto hoped Sarah and Grace would make it home safely. He glanced at his watch, noting that they should be in Dresden by now. He decided that, as soon as he’d gotten Grady’s truck started, he’d send Sarah a text suggesting that they stay there overnight. The drive back would be much better tomorrow, after the snow had stopped and the plows had cleared the highway.

  As he clamped the cables onto the battery terminals, Grady leaned against his truck and watched. “Your girl is doing a fine job at the store.”

  “Good.” A warm sensation spread through Otto at Sarah being referred to as “his girl.” It felt like she was. He wanted her to be. Just the thought of her leaving made him feel like his insides were being ripped out. Otto didn’t want to push too much, though. Her life had been filled with so many people who tried to coerce and bully Sarah. He didn’t want to be one of them.

  “Never seen someone so excited about stocking shelves before.” Grady chuckled. “Every time we get a shipment in, she acts like it’s a present for her.”

  Otto smiled. “Yeah, she enjoys that part.”

  “Customers like her, too.”

  The mention of customers reminded Otto of something Sarah had told him. “She mentioned meeting Norman Rounds.”

  Grady’s laughter died as suspicion filled his expression. “Could’ve been. I wasn’t there at the time.”

  “He come in your store a lot?” Otto asked.

  “Wouldn’t say a lot.”

  “How about Gordon Schwartz?”

  “Don’t really keep tabs on all my customers.” Grady sounded surly now, making Otto pretty sure that he’d hit a nerve. Grady was likely covering for Gordon, the militia leader who was wanted for skipping bail after being arrested for weapons violations.

  Without responding, Otto went to fire up his squad car engine. It gave him a moment to think about where he wanted to take his questioning. Grady was pretty close to shutting down completely, and Otto didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity to get any information on Gordon. Norman, he wasn’t worried about as much, because he’d proven himself to have some kind of moral code. Gordon, on the other hand, had an impressive cache of explosives and weapons, he very likely bore a grudge against the MPD after his girlfriend had been killed a few months ago, and he was one conspiracy theory away from waging war against the world.

  “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Otto said once he’d returned. “I wouldn’t want to pit you against your customers.”

  “Then don’t.” Although
Grady’s voice was sharp, he didn’t look as tense as he had a minute earlier. “Just because your girl works for me doesn’t mean I’m your informant.”

  “Of course not.” Taking a faux-casual pose, Otto kept his words slow and even. “I just worry about Sarah. She’s too trusting. Rounds is one thing, but Gordon’s skipped bail. He’s being hunted. Desperation makes people do things they normally wouldn’t, and I don’t want Sarah in the middle of that.”

  “Understood.” Moving to the driver’s door, Grady reached in and fired up his truck. After cranking slowly a few times, the engine caught. As Grady straightened, he said, “No one’s going to get in a shoot-out—or even a brawl—in my store. They know that I’d kick their asses from here to Dresden if they tried anything. Your girl is safe there.”

  “Good to know.” Otto didn’t believe it, though. Trouble could start anywhere, especially when Gordon Schwartz was around. “Think you’re good?”

  “Yeah. That should do it.”

  Otto detached the cables and put them back in his trunk. He noted that the snow shovel was missing, and he made a mental note to get it back from Hugh’s squad car. Whenever equipment went missing, it was always Hugh behind the “theft.” Even though Hugh had been on medical leave since September, he seemed to be a constant presence at the station. Otto wasn’t sure why Hugh needed his snow shovel, though.

  Climbing back in his squad car, Otto raised a hand to Grady and left the lot. As he slowly made his way down the otherwise empty street, he kept an eye on the rearview mirror to make sure that Grady managed to get off okay. He’d told Grady to get a new battery a hundred times, but the guy never listened. He just said it had lasted him twenty years. Why would he change it now?

  Otto had given up lecturing Grady. Now, he just gave him a jump, watched him drive off, and then swung by Grady’s house a little later to make sure that he’d made it home okay. Since Sarah had started working at the store, Otto had started feeling more positive about Grady. He was odd and cranky, but he seemed to be a good boss. Otto was happy to give daily battery jumps to someone who was nice to Sarah.

  With a snort, he slowed, nearing the end of town. “You’ve got it bad,” he muttered to himself. “You’d do pretty much anything to keep her happy.” It was true. He was completely smitten.

  As he braked, preparing to turn onto Case Street, Otto glanced in his rearview mirror again and watched with satisfaction as Grady’s truck taillights got smaller as he drove in the opposite direction. Just as Otto was about to look away, a huge, red fireball lit up the sky.

  Otto’s head jerked back in shock. He craned his head around to see it straight on rather than in a reflection. It was real. Yellow and red lights bounced off the rocks, lighting up what should’ve been a dark section of the highway. The boom came a few seconds later, shaking the ground with the force of the explosion. Jolted into action, Otto whipped the squad car around, turning 180 degrees and taking off toward the fire. He couldn’t wrap his head around it, couldn’t believe there had actually been an explosion. Watching it in his rearview mirror had given it a surreal quality, made it seem like he was watching fiction on a small screen. He fumbled for his radio even as the dispatcher said his unit number. Grady had stopped in the middle of the road, and Otto steered around his truck.

  Impatiently, Otto held the radio mike, waiting for the dispatcher to tell him about a report of the explosion. When it finally went quiet, he said, “Copy the explosion. I saw it. It looks to be just south of the pass. I’m en route.”

  “Copy,” the dispatcher said. “I’ll notify Fire.”

  “Fire copies,” a different voice responded. “We’re coming from Borr, so we’re about five miles west. What kind of explosion was this? Any idea of the cause? Do we need to have the hazmat team on standby?”

  “Give me two minutes.” Otto pushed a little harder on the gas. The car shot forward, fishtailing slightly in the deepening snow. The rear-wheel-drive squad car was pursuit-rated, which meant it was fast, but it wasn’t great in winter weather. The chief was gradually replacing their cars with SUVs, but money for the department was always an issue. For now, Otto just had to work with what he had. “I’ll get you some answers as soon as I’m on scene—or close to the scene.” If it had been a chemical explosion, Otto knew to stay back until hazmat cleared it.

  “Otto.” Theo’s voice was rough with sleep, but sharp. “I’m responding now. I’ll be on scene in fifteen minutes.”

  “Same.” Hugh was the next one to speak over the radio.

  Just as Otto raised the mic to tell Hugh that he was to keep his ass at home, the lieutenant spoke. “Murdoch. Keep your broken arm and bullet-hole-ridden carcass at home, do you hear me?”

  “Breaking…kkkk…up. Can’t…kk…understand. Can you…please…kkk…repeat?”

  “Knock it off with the fake broken transmission, Murdoch,” Lieutenant Blessard growled. “Stay. Home. Is that clear enough for you?”

  There was a long pause, and Otto could picture the conflict on Hugh’s face. “Copy,” Hugh said finally, sounding defeated. Otto didn’t believe it for a second. Hugh would be there as usual, dodging the lieutenant.

  Otto reached for the phone clipped to his belt. Sarah and Grace would’ve been long past the pass by the time the explosion occurred, but he still needed to hear Sarah’s voice, to have her assure him that she was okay. His brain was running through possible causes as he called her—a vehicle explosion? If so, by the size of it, it would have to be a semi. There weren’t any homes on the pass, so that limited the options.

  When the call went straight to Sarah’s voicemail, Otto swore under his breath. Ending the call, he put the phone away. The snow was starting to come down hard, and the wind was taking it sideways as well. Visibility was poor, plus the curve of the road and the rocky bluffs hid the explosion site. The only sign was the fire glowing as it burned the surrounding trees. Even that was just a faint orange haze through the veil of snow.

  As he passed the last building in town, Otto increased his speed. Even though logic told him that it had been a vehicle explosion, that a truck driver hauling some kind of explosive material had slipped off the side of the pass, his gut was worried. Something was happening, and it wasn’t good.

  The dispatcher’s voice said his unit number over the radio. “I’m getting reports of…” She paused, and Otto’s interest picked up. Usually, Cleo was one of the most experienced and professional dispatchers they had. In emergency situations, she was so calm that she seemed almost robotic. Her hesitation was unusual, to say the least. “I’m getting multiple reports of a low-flying helicopter in the area.”

  “Who’s reporting it?” Otto slowed as he reached a switchback. There were certain people in town who reported low-flying aircraft of all kinds on a regular basis. Multiple reports of the same aircraft were unusual, though.

  “Branson Burr and Nan Villela.”

  Nan? Branson was on the fringe of Gordon Schwartz’s militia group, and he tended toward paranoia, but Otto trusted Nan.

  “I’ve contacted Flight for Life, DNR, County, State—it’s not with any of them.”

  “Copy,” Otto said. He copied, but he was still baffled. Why was there a helicopter buzzing the town? “LT, are you hearing this?”

  “Yeah, I copied.” The lieutenant sounded grim. As Blessard started to speak again, Otto rounded the last turn before the top of the pass. Blackened rock, dirt, and trees covered the road in a thirty-foot pile. It looked as though a new cliff had sprouted in the middle of the road.

  Otto braked hard. His squad car slid over the slick pavement, the back end skidding to the side. The tires squealed in protest as the antilock brakes shuddered, pushing against the pressure of his right foot. The pile of rocks and debris grew larger, making it feel as if he was going to plow right into the side of a small mountain. The tail of the car swung farther to the side, rotating until the vehicl
e careened diagonally toward the mound of boulders. His foot pressed harder as he held tight to the wheel. It felt as if he was trying to stop the car with brute strength alone, and his leg vibrated with effort as he stomped on the brake. The car still headed toward the rocks, but it finally started to slow, sliding to a stop just a few feet from an enormous boulder sitting in the middle of the road.

  Ignoring the way his hand shook with residual adrenaline, Otto grabbed for the radio mic. “The highway at the top of the pass is completely blocked.” His voice was rough as he tried to get his breathing calmed. Everything was okay. He hadn’t plowed his car into a huge rock. He’d survived. Gradually, his breaths came slower, and the sheer enormity of the damage the explosion had caused began to sink in.

  Otto peered through the snow whipping around his squad car. The top and side of the rock wall bordering the highway appeared to have been sheared off and dumped on the pavement. The few trees that remained on the cliff were still burning, like torches glowing in the snowstorm. With the small mountain on the highway, a drop-off on the left, and the rock wall on the right, there was no way to get through. Otto blew out a long breath. This was going to be a huge mess to clear. In the meantime, he and Sarah would have to take another route to get back and forth between home and Monroe. The drive would take three times as long.

  Glancing at the radio mic in his hand, Otto realized that no one had responded to his last transmission. “Dispatch, did you copy about the rockslide?”

  Silence. When he reached to change the radio channel, he realized that the display was blank. His squad car radio was completely dead. With a grunt of annoyance, he took his portable radio off his belt and turned it on. Once he heard the faint beep indicating that it had power, Otto repeated the information about the rocks and debris blocking the road.

  There was no response.