“We’ve been reset.”
“Yes, we have.” Anita handed me a couple ibuprofen. “Take these. We aren’t leaving until sunup. You have about three good hours. Why don’t you go to your RV and get some sleep?”
“I don’t know if I can.” I placed the pills in my mouth, washing them down with a cautious sip of hot liquid. “I haven’t slept in days, but I don’t know if I can.”
“I can give you something,” she suggested.
Lane stepped closer, holding up the bottle of expensive bourbon. “How about a hefty shot of this in your tea? It’ll take the edge off.”
I peered up to him with a smile and extended my cup. Martin stood there with him. I watched as he poured some in my mug. “I wish we had some good bourbon,” I said.
“What!” Martin blasted. “That’s two thousand dollars a bottle. You two are too used to beer and dime store bourbon.”
I nearly spat my tea. “Dime store bourbon.” I took in a deep breath and smiled sadly. “Nothing on Dooley’s parents?”
Martin shook his head. “No. It’s dark. We’ll have a better idea in the morning.”
“What if they’re hurt? What if they need help?” I asked.
“We haven’t given up,” Martin replied. “We’re all still looking as best as we can. But you did good, kid.” He reached down and placed his hand on my arm. “You saved that boy. I can say with one hundred percent certainty, that is what mattered most to his parents. Now, why don’t you listen to our medical professional and go get some rest. When a school nurse tells you to lay down, you know you have to.”
I nodded slowly and stood. “You’re right. I will. Is Dooley okay?”
“He is,” Lane answered. “He’s sleeping on the bus with Rosie. Everyone is watching out for him.”
I kissed Martin on the cheek, then Lane, thanked Anita and with my tea in hand, I walked over to the RV.
Carlie and Reese were awake and outside, I told them I was going to try to rest.
The tea was still hot, but tolerable enough for me to take a few good drinks. I didn’t think I’d fall asleep. I feared closing my eyes and seeing everything happen, feeling it happen all over again as my mind replayed it.
That didn’t occur. I was more tired than I realized. Once I lay on the small couch and brought the blanket over me, I was out.
I slept hard, and though I was out for hours no one woke me. I got up on my own. When I stepped from the RV, our little campsite was all cleared and packed. The vehicles were ready to go.
Lane walked up to me. “I was just about to wake you. Alice’s truck is fine. She has it on the street.”
“That’s good.”
“Sun is rising. We’re ready to go.”
“Did I miss anything?” I asked.
Lane lowered his head. “We found Dooley’s dad. He didn’t …” Lane shook his head. “He didn’t make it. He was pretty bad off.”
“Dooley’s mom.”
“No. Martin thinks she was brought into the funnel, you guys were dragged along as it moved by. That’s what he thinks.”
“How is Skip?” I asked.
“Still sleeping, Rick is going to drive the bus.”
I didn’t know who Rick was, I didn’t know many names. Lane seemed to spout them off, then again, Lane was that type of person. He always knew everyone’s name and their story.
When Lane suggested I head back to the RV and hang out with the kids in there until it was time to go, I was happy to oblige. My body was sorer than I had anticipated. Just resting a few hours allowed the soreness to kick in.
I checked my phone for a signal and of course there was none, then I pulled out the maps.
It wasn’t long before the horses were back in their trailer, we all did a radio check and were ready to roll.
Alice informed us she had found the best way possible out of the town with minimal debris. She would lead the way to the highway and then let me take the lead. The plan was to take the interstate to Springfield then jump back on the secondary four lane roads.
I hoped for sunshine when we pulled from the garage, that wasn’t the case. It was dismal and gray, the sky still heavily overcast as if it were only on pause before another storm.
I was glad to see the city hadn’t been flattened, but it did sustain an unbelievable amount of damage. Brick buildings with gaping holes, cars on their sides and roofs missing. A huge tree was to our left when we pulled out of the garage, I didn’t recall seeing any trees in downtown Joplin.
We passed the McDonald’s only briefly, but enough for me to get a quick glance. It looked worse in the daylight. The roof hadn’t been blown off into the lot, the entire building was decimated, and the roof was all that remained.
I just wanted to get out of the city and on the road, putting distance between us and whatever storm was coming next and hopefully not cross paths with another.
Alice led the way, we were behind her, followed by Martin, the school bus was the caboose.
I kept thinking about how we started out the road to survival with thirty people and now we were down to twenty-four.
At the sign for the intestate, Alice turned right onto the ramp.
The ramp was long and had a slight bend.
“Nothing,” Lane commented, looking out his window to his side view mirror. “No cars.”
“It’s early.”
Alice’s truck reached the top of the ramp, I figured she’d drive just a little, then move over for us to pass and take the lead. But she stopped.
“Something coming?” I asked Lane.
“No. Nothing.”
“She can’t be waiting for us to pass her, can she?” I asked. “There’s no room.”
A crackle of the radio came before Alice’s voice. “Hold up, gang.”
Immediately I sensed something was wrong and that was confirmed when I saw her get out of her rig.
Without hesitation I opened my door and stepped out.
Martin did the same. He got out of the pickup and did some sort of hand signal to the bus. I walked around to Lane’s window and met up with Martin.
Alice walked to us, “See if you can get one of the guys to help,” she said to Martin. “Don’t say anything on the radio.”
My eyes shifted to Lane.
“I’ll help,” Lane said. “Kids, hang tight, I’ll be right back.”
He shut off the RV and stepped out.
We followed Alice.
I thought something was blocking the road. Debris or a tree, maybe even a car. When we reached the front of Alice’s truck, I saw that wasn’t the case.
Where the entrance ramp met the interstate was Dooley’s mother.
Her poor body a twisted, mangled mess, her limbs bent in unnatural ways. Seeing her laying on the ground, violently tossed and left behind was so horrendously sad, unexpected and shocking.
I stepped back with a gasp, leaning my back against the truck. Closing my eyes, I took a few quick deep breaths to calm myself. When I opened them, I looked up to the sky and saw something else I didn’t expect to see.
It wasn’t like the night on Martin’s porch, it looked different.
I knew what it was.
Tiny explosions, multitudes of them, silently burst one right after another. Buried in the densely overcast sky, the gray of the clouds made them appear a beautiful pink. It reminded me of fireworks masked behind plumes of smoke. But they weren’t any celebratory display. It was the offensive move of the Jupiter project, firing off their last stand.
A transformed version of the Star Spangled Banner
The rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air … a final move to ensure our world will be here.
Somehow, I didn’t feel patriotic or hopeful seeing it. I was scared.
The clock had started ticking.
The countdown was on.
If it didn’t work, it wouldn’t be long before the winds of Ares hit, and we were still nine hundred miles from safety.
FOURTEEN – REVAMP
ING
Just about two hundred miles were under our belt when we stopped for lunch a couple of miles before Sikeston, Missouri. We pulled our convoy into a truck stop. No one was working at the gas station, but a handwritten sign on the pumps indicted they worked and to take only what was needed.
I felt guilty because it was the first time we filled gas cans.
Technically we did need it.
There was an uncertainty with every hour what we would face ahead, and we needed to prepare.
We had seven hundred and fifty miles to go until the safe region and by my estimate, if Julius was right, twenty-two hours until Ares.
Plenty of time if we didn’t run into trouble.
What were the odds of that?
Although, at that particular moment at that truck stop, there was a sense of, ‘were we overreacting?’. The sun was out, the sky was clear with the exception of a few clouds.
Maybe it worked.
Maybe the Jupiter defensive worked fast and broke the cloud.
There was still electricity at that truck stop, the sign was lit up. Perhaps all the destruction stayed out west.
The dark skies seemed to fade the farther east we went.
The truck stop diner and store were lit up as well, but they weren’t open. The doors were locked.
Our plan was to stop, let the kids run a little, eat and get back on the road.
I took a couple packs of hotdogs from the RV fridge and boiled them on the Coleman stove.
It wasn’t my best meal.
My head was full, my heart heavy and I kept thinking about Dooley’s parents. It was worse when Dooley was asking for his Mama. I knew eventually he would stop calling out, and as time went on it would be up to whoever raised him to keep his mother and father’s memory alive.
I wish I knew them better. The only true memories I have of his mother is her being sucked out of the garage and dead on the road.
One day he would ask to see a picture or what they looked like.
Lane suggested that maybe there was something in their bags.
I’d look once we finished our journey.
After calling out to the kids we had ten more minutes, I started the process of cleaning up.
That was when I noticed Alice was taking items from the back of her truck. She didn’t have much in there, we had moved a lot to the bus and the RV already.
Thinking it really wasn’t a good time to start organizing, I walked over to her.
“Hey,” I said. “What’s going on?”
“I was gonna finish this up and come talk to you,” she replied. “I’m heading back.”
“Back?” I asked.
“Home. To Tucson.”
I stuttered some, completely in shock at her sudden revelation. “Al ... Alice, you know what’s happening.”
“No, I don’t. I know you have predicted a lot. But you didn’t predict this …” She pointed up to the sky. “I think it’s over and the worst is behind us.”
“Yeah and following us.”
Alice smiled and shook her head. “I don’t think so. I really do think it’s done. Didn’t you say they launched the weather bombs to stop it? I think it worked.”
I wanted to believe that, too. I thought it, but I had this feeling, like watching a horror movie and everything is serene, but you know the big ending is about to come. That was the feeling I had.
“Can I ask you not to leave?” I questioned. “Is there any way to talk you into staying?”
“I have to go back, Jana. I have friends, family. If it ain’t over back west, I should be there to do my part, not ... running across the county to a safe area.”
“I get it. I do. I know the whole ‘it’s the apocalypse’ thing is really hard to believe.”
She closed one eye and nodded. “It kinda is.”
“Well, good luck.” I gave her a hug and then stepped back.
I went to tell Martin, but he had a feeling she was leaving when she was unpacking the truck. She made her goodbye rounds. Organizing the items, she took out, trying to find a place for them added another fifteen minutes to our departure time.
She didn’t leave alone. Three others left with her. A couple and their grandmother, all from the Amarillo area.
They wanted to go home, salvage what they could and start anew.
If everything just stopped, that was an option, but while the so-called doomsday storm still lingered as a possibility, all that was lost by going to West Virginia was a few days traveling.
It was time to go. Our goal was to travel as far as we could for as long as we could. Shooting for five hundred miles. We were doing well; two hundred miles were already under our belt and it was conceivable we could travel even more if we didn’t hit anything.
So far, we were ahead of it or it was over. That’s what we thought.
As we prepared to roll the convoy, a car pulled into the truck stop. It had California plates. The car pulled right up to the front of the diner and a man got out.
“Hold on, Lane,” I said.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“He’s from California, he may have answers to what’s out west.”
I opened the passenger door and stepped from the RV.
Apparently, Martin was one step ahead of me. He had left his truck to walk toward the car.
The man was wearing a suit. It wasn’t tidy and he didn’t have on a tie. He frantically pulled at the diner door, over and over as if he believed it was stuck.
“It’s closed,” I said.
He turned to us with an exasperated exhale. “Anything open? I haven’t eaten in a day.”
“You haven’t eaten?” I asked. “I can give you some food and water.”
“Could you? Oh my God, please.”
“Where are you from, son?” Martin asked.
“Los Angeles,” he replied.
“Are you headed east?” Martin asked.
The man shook his head. “West. Back home. Trying to get in touch with my wife and kids. I haven’t been able to. Do you guys know anything about what’s going on in LA?”
I shook my head. “We’re coming from Texas. And you’re going home from?”
“A business trip. I was in DC when a hurricane it. It was bad. It took nearly a day to evacuate. Everything is flooded. I’ve been taking back roads and changing directions to avoid anything.”
“By that you mean?” Martin asked.
“Storms. Rain. Hail. You name it. There was a massive storm around Louisville. I had to keep going south to get away from it. I swear it was following me. I have never seen rain like that. It was like buckets poured from the sky.”
Louisville was northeast of us.
I asked, “Anything since?”
“This is the first clear sky I have seen,” he replied. “It’s actually kind of freaky. Where are you folks headed?”
“East,” Martin answered.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. Nothing is there,” he said. “Nothing. It seemed like everywhere was hit with something. I ran into so much. This is my third car.”
“You’re very fortunate,” Martin told him. “Very.”
I wanted to tell him he was headed into the same thing going west, but I didn’t. I thanked him for his information then excused myself to get him a care package of food.
A few minutes earlier he could have followed Alice.
I suppose while I was gone, Martin filled him in. At least I hoped he did.
That would be unfair to send him west without telling him what we did see.
It was a strange exchange when we said goodbye to the man. We wished him luck and fed him. He had the same apprehension toward us as we had toward him. It was an even exchange of glances, both looking at each other as if to say, ‘you’re headed into a hopeless situation.’
East. West. North. South.
Despite the respite of the sunny sky in Sikeston, it didn’t matter what direction we took, I wondered if everything was h
opeless.
FIFTEEN – SLIDE
The woman’s scream.
A deep, gurgling scream for help.
“Oh, God, help!” she cried out.
It only grew worse, just when I thought Walter’s smashed car and the arm sticking out would scar me, I was swept up in the tailwind of a funnel. When that topped the car crash for my PTSD, I saw Dooley’s mother’s body.
That would be part of a long list of mental traumas that would beat at me, stay with me and make me second guess why I was still alive.
The scream.
One of many.
It was uneventful for a hundred and fifty miles. A bright sky gave me hope. A sky that bred a radio conversation about Alice’s choice.
Then it started to rain.
Not bad, nothing like the man at the truck stop described, but a steady rain with gray skies.
Gone was the sun, it was a blip of hope and was obliterated.
Were we headed into the worst, leaving the worst or did it even matter?
Lane was driving and he slowed down. He leaned closer to the steering wheel trying to see through the windshield. Even at the fastest speed, those old fashion windshield wipers didn’t clear fast enough.
“What is this,” he said slowing down even more. “Get on the radio. Tell everyone, I don’t know where the road went.”
I was certain there was a better way to put it and that my husband was exaggerating.
“Where did it go?” asked Carlie from the back. “I can’t see it.”
Reese quizzed. “Did we veer off?”
What were they talking about? I didn’t even look at the road, I assumed it was a rain thing, until all I saw was brown ahead of us.
The paved road was covered with thick mud, I could feel the tires spinning.
I wondered if indeed, during the rain, Lane didn’t see a bend in the road and went off the shoulder.
But it was brown and muddy, left to right, for as far as the eye could see.
Before I could call into the radio, Skip called out. He wasn’t driving, like me he was the navigator.
“Hey, everyone, do you think we should stop?” he asked.
Winds of Ares: An Apocalypse Thriller Page 10