Winds of Ares: An Apocalypse Thriller

by Druga, Jacqueline

So many. Too many. And while Liza had gathered supplies from the diner, I feared it was more mouths to feed than we had food.

  The four months’ worth of rations I had in the RV wouldn’t last long. We would need to gather things on the way. We had to.

  ✽✽✽

  It was decided ahead of time what pace we would set and if there was a need to stop, we’d radio. Thankfully a man named Rod brought four walkies with him. I had two, so communication was easy.

  We left at dawn to begin our travel.

  I was optimistic having made it through the night with only the rain, no storms or funnels, but I knew our luck would eventually run out and I’d be scrambling through my notes to get everyone under cover.

  I knew the bright light glowing across the morning eastern horizon wasn’t the sun. Not with the overcast sky.

  As soon as we arrived at the junction that would take us north four miles to the tertiary route, we saw the fires in Amarillo. So many of them they caused the black smoke to glow like a firestorm brewed within them.

  What had happened?

  I thought lightning. Lightning could have been the only thing that started it. But we didn’t see any. Surely, as close as we were, we would have seen something light up the sky.

  We were blessed. So close, yet it missed us.

  By my calculations, which were by no means scientific, whatever hit Amarillo came from the southwest.

  It wasn’t long into our journey, thirty minutes perhaps, we caught a break just west of the town of Panhandle, Texas.

  “Jana,” Carlie called out, excited. “I got a signal. I got a signal.”

  After the initial shock of what she said, I dug through my purse and pulled out my phone. My battery power was in the yellow, I had a signal.

  I wanted to shriek. “Lane, you have to pull over. We can’t chance driving out of range.” Immediately, I lifted the radio. “This is Travco. We are pulling over. We have a signal. Anyone who has a signal use this time to get as much information as you can. Reply with copy. Over.”

  “Copy,” came a voice.

  “Copy,” Martin said.

  “Copy.”

  “Copy that,” said Alice.

  I didn’t know the information they would get, but I had Carlie just start searching news stories on the internet, while I logged into our Olympus group. There had been only two posts since I last logged on.

  One from Julius, “If you haven’t left. Now is the time.”

  Another from Marianne who posted twelve hours earlier she was on her way and wanted to leave before the storms hit.

  “Cincinnati.” I spoke.

  “What?” Lane asked.

  “Cincinnati isn’t hit. Or at least it wasn’t when Marianne left.”

  “Can you call Julius?” he asked.

  “I don’t have his number, but I’ll message him. Hopefully, he’ll have a signal, too.” Immediately, my fingers started moving. I told him we were on the way and about the storms, then I asked what he knew.

  It seemed like a lifetime, but it wasn’t, and he replied.

  “Where are you now?”

  I quickly glanced at Lane, read the message, then replied. “Outside of Amarillo.”

  “You have a long way to go. It’s bad.”

  “How bad?”

  “Storms have devastated the Pacific Coast, no one can even get near there. They are saying waters are three hundred miles inland. News is sketchy from out west.”

  “Do you know if there is anything ahead of us?”

  “What’s he saying?” asked Lane.

  “West is bad. The coast is under water.”

  “For real?”

  I nodded, shared the phone so he could see, then looked at the alert.

  Julius wrote,” The Amarillo storm is moving northeast. It’ll hit Wichita, Kansas City, and follow the jet streams southeast once it hits Chicago. It will stall and slow down before hitting Chicago.”

  “Are you looking at something?” I asked. “A map.”

  “I’m looking at satellite images.”

  Lane said, “Ask him if there are other storms still out there.”

  “Are there any others?” I questioned.

  “My God, it’s worse than I thought,” he replied in one line. Then another response came, “A storm is forming in the gulf. There is talk they will try to correct it with another launch in two or three days. God help us if they do. That is how Ares is going to happen.”

  “Any in our path?” I typed.

  “No, but you need to keep moving. You need to get here as soon as possible. I don’t know a time frame, but once Ares hits, it will encompass the entire East Coast and decimate it. I have to go. I am headed to Olympus now. God speed.”

  Lane produced a quirky look. “And like that he leaves. He’s not even there.”

  “It hit faster than he expected I guess.” Another alert from him took me by surprise. This time it wasn’t a message it was an image.

  Julius had taken a picture of the satellite image.

  “Oh my God,” Lane said soft. “Look at them all.”

  I could barely breathe, my heart pounded so hard, it was in my throat.

  There were so many behind us in the west, it was hard to see a spot of land, on anywhere, not covered.

  “But we’re ahead of it, right?” Lane asked. “We just got to keep moving. We’re ahead of it.”

  “Yeah,” I answered. “We’re ahead of it.”

  After glancing once more to the image, I put my phone away.

  We were indeed ahead of it. But with our slow speed, the amount of people, and stops we’d have to make, I feared we wouldn’t be ahead of it for long.

  ✽✽✽

  When I was nineteen, I went with my mom to my Aunt’s home in Fort Wayne, Indiana. We took a Greyhound bus. The trip forever stayed on my mind and was the sole reason I never took another bus anywhere. Back then, we didn’t have a vehicle that would have made the journey, nor could we afford airfare.

  Fourteen hundred miles, thirty-five hours and nine stops.

  It was a nightmare.

  My Uncle Fred actually paid for our plane ride home when he found out how ridiculous the journey was.

  I never thought I’d face something like that again, yet there I was, not a hundred miles into the trip and we were stopping for the first time for gas.

  Alice suggested every single vehicle should fill up. That way, the next time, we’d all need gas.

  The station was open, they had electricity and only took cards.

  Three of us paid for everyone’s gas.

  It was one of those things never mentioned in a movie or television show.

  The one stop was taking forever, and it gave me a chance to work things out.

  I didn’t like my calculations.

  The clap of thunder rang out just before Martin walked in the RV through the side door. I was seated at the table with my maps and notebook, and I glanced up at him.

  He ran his hand over his head to shuck some of the water. “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey.”

  “Last car is filling now. Should be ready to go soon,” Martin told me. “Lane said you were doing some calculations?”

  I nodded. “We have to lose something, Martin.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, the convoy is too long. Too many cars. Too long to stop for gas. We need to get to our destination and right now, we can’t go over fifty miles an hour. The only saving grace ahead are that authorities are telling people to dig in. That’ll keep the roads clear. But tomorrow at this time we may not be able to stop for gas. Might not be anywhere to stop.”

  Do you think ditching a car or two is really going to make a difference?” he asked.

  “If we had ditched two cars would we still be here getting gas?” I shook my head. “Time is of the essence, and at this pace, estimating stops, we’re at thirty hours to get there, and that’s only stopping for fuel. That doesn’t include any problems … which w
e will have.”

  “Then we need to lighten the load,” he said. “We just filled all the cars. Next stop we ditch them. There’s only sixteen people on the bus. We can fit the seven from the cars. We can’t ditch the pickup, that’s pulling the horses. The school bus was fine pulling it when it didn’t have my horses.”

  “Can we put the horses in the tractor trailer?”

  Martin shook his head. “No way to safely trailer them in the back. And don’t ask to ditch the horses.”

  “I wouldn’t do that.” I sadly chuckled. “Lane would leave me behind first.”

  Martin pulled up a chair. “This wasn’t fair to you. I just thought I was doing a good thing, bringing these people, trying to save as many as I could. But it is more than you just driving the way, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it is,” I replied. “There are kids. When we left, we just packed up and left. We didn’t have a contingency if we ran into a storm. We need our strength if we do and driving straight through is going to weaken us. But can we stop? If so, how long, when?” I placed my elbow on the table and rested my face in my hands. “That’s not even considering food and water.”

  “I didn’t think. That’s on me. I will be glad to take responsibility. You can be our knowledge, our storm person.”

  I shook my head. “It would drive me crazy. But you can help with the storm contingency. Since you’ve been in these types of storms. What happens, what everyone has to know. Like what do we do if one comes and we’re nowhere near shelter.”

  “I do know this,” Martin said. “If one is coming, we can’t outrun it. But … we can change direction. A funnel isn’t going to chase you. They’re like a Queen song, they got a one track mind. And the funnel doesn’t change it.”

  A knock came on the RV door and it opened.

  Alice stood there. “We’re ready to roll.”

  I slid from the table. “Thank you. And Alice, how long do you think it will be until we need to fuel again?”

  “About three hundred miles. Give or take a few,” she replied, then walked from the RV.

  Martin stood. “Jana, I know you want to try to stay ahead of this thing. But it’s always an option that if it looks like we can’t, we just dig in, wait it out and then head to apocalypse camp.”

  It wasn’t that simple. I didn’t tell Martin that. Olympus was the so called apocalypse camp because it was the only place that could protect us from what was coming.

  If we had to let it pass, if we had to dig in, chances were there’d be no digging out.

  ELEVEN – FLIP SIDE

  I don’t know how we didn’t run into it. Timing maybe. If we had taken longer at that first fuel up, it would have been a disaster. I wasn’t even thinking about it. The storm Julius said would hit Wichita then Kansas had made its way through not long after us.

  We learned this when we stopped for fuel just outside of Arkansas City, Kansas.

  A man at the station pumping gas asked if we were from Freedom.

  I remember passing through Freedom, it was fine. There were no high winds, just a steady rain fall like we had been running into.

  The man then told us that a huge funnel wiped it out and was headed northeast.

  It was an eye opening experience, a little frightening I didn’t even think of that. I had to be more cautious, there were people counting on me. A lot.

  Including me, Lane, Martin and the kids, there were thirty people.

  Thirty.

  Five were children. Two mine, Rosie’s two grandchildren and a toddler boy. Not sure how old he was, he was a thick and strong little one. He was with the couple in the first car.

  We did, however, have a school nurse and mechanic with us, so that was a good thing.

  The plan to lighten the load didn’t go as well as I hoped. The parents with the toddler were fine with ditching their car and getting on the bus. But Walter, his wife and the other couple with them wouldn’t do it.

  He actually argued with us, but it wasn’t worth it. I didn’t even hear what he had to say, it was one of those things I blocked out. I did give him the location in case we got separated. In fact, I gave everyone the targeted location … just in case.

  Having left Arkansas, we were making great time and a third of the way through our journey. If we could make another two hundred miles, I would be fine with stopping to get some rest. In fact, I started looking at my map. I had marked places we could stop, and emergency areas.

  We were really ahead of everything, power was still on in every place we passed, and the storms hadn’t hit yet.

  We seemed to be the only ones traveling.

  A part of me wondered if the entire apocalypse pilgrimage was a wasted effort.

  It wouldn’t be a bad thing if it were.

  I set my sights on Springfield as a good stopping point. We could stop for the evening, rest up, fuel up and head back out. I even picked out a designated parking garage there. Of course, that was before I had a caravan.

  Just after Cedar Vale, things changed. The wind picked up, the sky grew more overcast, and the rain fell a little harder. Our pace slowed down, and I could feel the RV moving a little with the wind. It was kind of like driving a small car on the highway and having a semi pass you. I didn’t need to be a weather expert to know something was brewing.

  We kept idle conversation going with the kids to keep their minds off of what was going on outside.

  Reese was funny, he was full of odd questions.

  He asked, “What is this place like?”

  “It’s a bunker,” I told him. “A huge underground city.”

  Lane laughed.

  “What?”

  “It’s not an underground city,” he scoffed and laughed. “If ... if this Julius really has access to this place, it’s far from an underground city.”

  “How do you know?” I asked.

  “I looked it up. Didn’t you? Pictures are online.”

  I half shrugged. “Not really.”

  “What is it like then?” Carlie asked.

  “You guys remember two years ago when we went to Galveston and went on the submarine tour?” Lane asked.

  “Yeah,” Carlie answered.

  “A lot like that,” Lane replied. “Same feel only a lot more roomie. With slot machines.”

  “Slot machines?” Reese laughed. “They needed slot machines? Is it to keep people busy?”

  “No,” Lane replied. “The bunker was built during a time when people worried the world was going to end by bombs, right? Well, that threat is over, so they made it into a cool casino.”

  “Can I play the slots?” asked Carlie. “I play them on my phone.”

  “I don’t see why not.” Lane shrugged.

  “Eyes on the sky,” Martin announced on the radio. “I don’t like the looks of this.”

  “Roger that,” Skip replied.

  “If anyone sees something, call it,” Martin said. “You’ll see if forming.”

  My heart started racing, if Martin was worried, so was I.

  Idle conversation went out the window.

  “Kids, keep an eye out the windows,” I told them.

  Lane looked over at me. “Where are we near? What’s your map say?”

  Shaking my head, I looked at my map. “My nearest U is a hundred miles away.”

  “A hundred?”

  “Well, there’s a town eight miles ahead, I’m sure they have storm cellars at the businesses, but if it hits, we’ll lose the vehicles.”

  “Jesus.” Lane leaned into the wheel as he drove.

  I peered closer to the windshield, looking at the sky and left to right. To the fast moving clouds that didn’t go in circles but rolled in overhead. They were thick and wide and seemed to sink lower to the ground.

  If it formed ahead, I knew the chances of it coming our way were slim. If we saw it, there’s enough time to stop before we ran into it.

  I don’t know why I thought it would be in front of us. Perhaps I was confident our luck would hol
d out.

  It didn’t.

  Walter’s panicked voice called out on the radio. “We see it. It’s behind us!”

  For some reason, hearing that made me jump up.

  “Where are you going?” Lane blasted. “Jana, sit down.”

  I had to see. Radio in hand, I raced to the back of the RV. My balance was off as the RV swayed. Lane kept calling for me to sit down. I made it to the back of the RV and leaned over all the stuff I had there to peek out the small, rear oval window.

  I couldn’t see, Alice’s truck was right behind us, blocking my view. Roaring, loud and thunderous.

  Martin called out. “Ninety degrees. Go right, ninety degrees from it. Keep going.”

  What did that mean?

  Then I saw Martin in the pickup truck, towing the horse trailer as he veered off the road and went straight to the fields. He was the first one to go.

  “He’s going right!” I yelled. “He’s going out of the path!”

  I didn’t think Lane could hear me. It was so loud from the funnel.

  Martin hauled ass. The trailer bouncing and started tilting. I worried about the horses, but Martin knew what was best for them.

  As soon as Alice turned, it cleared my view. I saw it. It was wider than the road, reminding me of some sort of atomic mushroom cloud. It moved faster our way than we were going.

  We couldn’t outrun it.

  The bus turned from the road as well.

  Walter’s car was still in the road, like we were, still separated from us by the distance of the convoy.

  I leapt to the doorway of the back room and screamed as loud as I could. “Lane! Turn right! Get off the road!”

  Spinning around, I looked back out the window. I could feel the pull of the massive beast, then I watched as it snatched up Walter’s car.

  It lifted into the air and turned along with everything else the funnel had swallowed.

  A scream barely escaped me as Lane turned the RV hard, sending me flying across the back room. After falling to the floor, I crawled my way to a half stand and charged toward the front, holding on as I did, jolting with every bump from the side of the road.

  I made it to the front seat and sat, grabbing for the belt.

  “Where’s the radio?” Lane asked.

  “Shit, it’s in the back.” I started to stand.