Winds of Ares: An Apocalypse Thriller

by Druga, Jacqueline

  I nodded.

  “You were wrong on one thing.”

  “What was that?” I asked.

  “You said only Carlie and Reese didn’t have a choice. That’s not true. I didn’t have a choice. I always said I’d follow you to the end of the world. Well, here we are,” Lane said with so much sincerity. “And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

  EIGHTEEN – THE CALM BEFORE

  The reality of how bad things had gotten and how fortunate we were hit me when we drove around Bowling Green.

  The hailstorm spread far and wide, the smoke rose high in the sky from Bowling Green, joining the already dark clouds. I couldn’t be sure if it was the hailstorm or maybe lightning that started the massive fires there. But it lit up the area adding an eerie orange light to the smoke hovering over the highway. There was no true daylight. The farther we drove it went from looking like we were stuck in some wildfire escape route to a dreary winter evening.

  First hail, now heavy raindrops that looked as if they were snowflakes, big and slushy, melting immediately as soon as they landed.

  At the point when we passed Bowling Green, we had fourteen hours remaining on the clock. Not that Ares, if it was to happen, was following a strict schedule, but it was something to go by.

  Looking at the sky, the way the rain fell and wind blew, I wondered if we even had fourteen hours left.

  I swore I saw yet another launch. Another explosion in the sky of bright lights, tons of them. Did they launch another storm counterattack?

  I showed Lane, he didn’t know. He wasn’t convinced what we had seen earlier in the day was a Jupiter launching.

  Maybe if it was a second launch, maybe … it would work.

  We couldn’t take a chance.

  It was a group decision to push it.

  To go as long as we could for as far as we could. We needed to make our way back to Interstate Sixty-four to meet the rescue teams that waited. That was if Julius was honest about having teams waiting for as long as possible.

  I still held on to that twinge of doubt since he denied my accidental call.

  The plan was to travel as much as possible to the point where we could rest. The final leg of the journey would be short and in one vehicle, just cross over the New River Gorge and enter the valley of safety.

  We were able to get a little more gas seventy miles outside of Bowling Green, and that was the last place we went through that had power.

  The grid was down everywhere.

  We forged forward through the darkness. Slowing down at some points to a crawl. But it reached a point where we couldn’t go any farther. Everyone was tired and hungry and while I wasn’t a weather expert, I was certain we were on the outskirts of a massive hurricane that had made landfall.

  The one Reverend Barrows had told us about.

  The wind was too much, pushing the RV and making it hard to steer.

  We took refuge in an equipment rental warehouse. A large vertical steel plank building. Inside there were steel support beams and a concrete slab floor.

  Martin said it was probably prefabricated, but it was sturdy. If his barn withstood a twister, so could the warehouse.

  I started to think the horses suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. They acted disoriented and moved around a lot when the wind hit hard.

  The metal siding whapped and rattled with each gust.

  We were close.

  There was seven hours to Ares. That was if it didn’t occur earlier.

  We had maybe an hour’s drive. Another hour in case we got lost. If I factored in a half an hour to pack up, that would give us five good hours to rest. We needed it and we needed the morning light as well. It was too anxiety inducing driving in the pitch black with the weather as bad as it was.

  The concrete floor was cold, and we did the best to block the chill for the kids.

  Carlie lay on a sleeping bag, Reese on a blanket with his head on my lap.

  He was passed out. I didn’t know how he slept like that, with all the noise. The blasting thunder, the sides of the warehouse shaking and the horses crying out every so often.

  Yet, he wasn’t the only one asleep. Maybe the racket served as some sort of white noise.

  “We’ll be here another couple hours.” I poured some Ten High bourbon in the glass for Lane. “Have some, relax, try to sleep. You’re a big guy, one shot isn’t going to faze you.”

  “I’m not that big.” He took it.

  I noticed Lane’s eyes glancing up and I looked behind me. Martin was standing there.

  “Is that …” Martin pointed to the bottle. “Ten High?”

  “It is,” I replied. “Do you want some?”

  “Good heavens, why aren’t you drinking the Old Rip Van?”

  “It’s really bad.”

  “No, it’s not. You guys are just so used to cheap booze.”

  Lane asked as he stood. “I’ll go grab it for you.”

  “Thank you,” Martin replied.

  “It’s yours anyhow.”

  Stop.

  Lane realized what he said, and he froze in the middle of opening the RV door.

  I cringed, looked at Martin then Lane. My husband lifted his shoulders some, cringing as well, then went into the RV.

  “That bottle is the one from my house?” Martin asked.

  “It was not broken,” I said.

  “And you opened it?” His voice raised some.

  “In our defense, we thought you were dead.”

  “Jana, do you even realize how much that was worth?”

  “Yeah, but it’s the apocalypse,” I defended. “It’s not worth anything.”

  “Wrong,” Martin said. “If this really is the end of the world, that can be worth plenty in a barter.”

  “Martin, please,” I snickered. “The type of people that will be bartering will exchange the same amount for that as they will Ten High.”

  “Unbelievable.” He watched Lane walked out of the RV and hand him the bottle. “Thank God, there is three quarters left.”

  “Is that why you came over?” I asked. “To bitch about us taking your bottle.”

  “No, what the heck, Jana. I just found out this was mine. I came over to talk to you. Can you talk?”

  It was an ‘uh-oh’ moment. I really thought I had done something wrong. “Sure,” I said.

  “Out of ear shot of the kids.”

  “Um, yeah.” I gently lifted Reese’s head from my lap. Lane handed me a gym bag to serve as a pillow for him. I exchanged my leg for the bag and stood.

  “This way,” Martin said.

  I grabbed my bottle of Ten High and followed.

  “Never knew you to be a big drinker.” Martin pointed to the bottle.

  “I’m not, it’s extenuating circumstances. What’s up?”

  “First, how are you feeling?” Martin asked.

  “I’m fine. Not as sore as I was.”

  “Good. Emotionally?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Just gonna ask you not to hold what Liza said against you. She feels bad.”

  “I know,” I replied. “And I don’t. I really don’t. I probably would be the same way. Is this why you pulled me over here?”

  “No, I need to apologize to you.”

  “Me?” I asked, shocked. “Why?”

  “For nearly calling you out over the Mars story.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it.” I waved out my hand then brought my bottle to my lips. “It’s fine. It’s still new to you.”

  “I just think I need to explain to you why it bothers me.”

  “Because it’s a lie?”

  Martin shook his head. “No. Carlie and Reese, they’re my grandkids. I love them. I love them more than you can understand because it’s just a … a real different type of love. You and Lane have taken them kids, you have loved them, cared for them, walked the floors with them. For half Carlie’s life and nearly all of Reese’s. I get you not wanting to bad mouth your sister. I do. I
t’s your sister. But to glorify her in the eyes of those kids, she doesn’t deserve that love and admiration. You may feel differently. That’s how I feel, and I love you and Lane for all that you have done.”

  “Thank you. Martin, why are you telling me this right now?”

  Martin glanced down to his expensive bottle of bourbon and uncapped it. He sniffed it and smiled. “Life has little pleasures, and you have to breathe in each one as if it is your last. No missed moments, you know. When Bobby was killed, my only child, I thought I would die. I didn’t get that chance to say goodbye, but he left me those kids. Reese looks just like him and Carlie acts like him. So, in a way I still have my son. I’m just rambling like an old man, you know.”

  I shook my head and watched him take a swig right out of that bottle. “No, I don’t. This isn’t you. What is going on?”

  ‘We’re what? Forty some miles away from crossing the crest into what is supposed to be a safe area.”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “Are you worried about that?”

  “You done good, kid. Whether there is safety on the other side of that ridge, remains to be seen. But whatever is there, we will make the best of it. I’m not worried about that ridge or what’s over it.”

  “Then what is it?” I asked.

  “Take a listen. Just take a listen to what’s going on outside.”

  I didn’t really need to listen; I had been hearing the clamoring of the wind and thunder so loud it vibrated the ground.

  “You hear that?” he asked.

  “I do.”

  “I told you, I have been in and seen a lot of storms in my lifetime. Lots of twisters and a few hurricanes. In all my years, I have never seen what we have come against on the road, and I have never heard anything like what is happening outside these walls.” Martin paused looking up to the roof when a loud bang rang out, and it sounded as if something ricocheted against it. “I don’t know what the morning is gonna bring or what we’ll face, but I know and feel in my gut,” he said. “It won’t be good.”

  NINETEEN – THE STORM

  Was it Ares? I had to question because it was possible. Julius had given me a twenty-four hour period after the Jupiter rectification that Ares would hit. He was wrong about the first storm, that came early, why wouldn’t Ares.

  I didn’t want to be there in that warehouse, not in a place so vulnerable. The town had been empty, evacuated possibly. We could try to find a home, find a basement somewhere, but from what Julius described, Ares would be the mother of all storms. A massive front made up of every storm that was generated by Jupiter, joined together to wreak some final havoc upon our planet.

  The way it sounded, the wind not letting up, I was certain any attempts to thwart Ares were in vain. The first and even the second launch I swore I saw.

  Although we took a break, the storm never did. Water began seeping through the doors of the warehouse as we packed up to leave. I was frightened by what we would find outside, but we didn’t have a choice.

  We were so close to safety, we had to move. For our wellbeing, we couldn’t stay there any longer.

  Our voices were loud, it was the only way to be heard over the storm. The gas gauge on the truck was sitting just above E, and the RV wasn’t doing much better.

  With any luck, we would get out of that portion of the storm with both vehicles and only have to make it over the bridge in the RV.

  Not far from the bridge was where Julius said rescue crews would be waiting.

  Yet, why weren’t we safe? Why were we getting battered?

  It didn’t make sense.

  Wasn’t the safe area between the Appalachian and Allegheny Mountains, we were technically on the Appalachian mountain.

  Everyone loaded in, we pulled the vehicles close to the warehouse doors and Martin stepped out to open them.

  I got out of the RV as well, despite Lane asking me not to.

  I had to see.

  I needed to see what we were up against.

  As Martin slid the door to the right, the wind caught it, sending it fast and furiously off the hinge.

  The rain fell like buckets were pouring down and it was sideways. The wind came in gusts, it wasn’t steady and that was a good thing.

  “We have twelve miles to the gorge,” I said to Martin. “Will the truck make it?”

  “Yes, then I’ll leave it.”

  “Just get on Sixty-four,” I told him. “We need to be on that highway.”

  Martin nodded and peered out of the warehouse. It was morning and not pitch black, but still dark.

  I rushed to return to the RV. It was so quiet in there. No one made a sound; they were cramped and frightened.

  “How’s it look?” Lane asked.

  I shook my head.

  “How far do we have?”

  “Twelve miles to the bridge,” I replied. “After that we just need to get down the mountain into the valley. The safe zone.”

  “How high is this bridge, Jana?” Lane asked.

  “I don’t know. Why?”

  “There might be a problem with the wind and the rain. But …” He put the RV in gear and started pulling forward when Martin pulled from the warehouse. “At this point, we really don’t have a choice.”

  We didn’t.

  We had to move forward.

  I honestly didn’t know how high the bridge was. It was one of several that crossed over the New River. But we were headed into the New River Gorge National Park,

  The New River ran between this huge gorge within the Appalachian Mountains. I knew the gorge was wide and deep. So much so that there were several lookouts in the park to absorb and get pictures of the breathtaking view.

  Something inside of me kept saying it wasn’t going to be breathtaking, it was going to be a breath holding experience.

  We pulled out slowly from the warehouse, the thunder clapped loudly followed by flashes of lightning. It was a steady pace. Three roars of thunder, two seconds later came three flashes of light.

  The water on the road was at least six inches. Debris rolled across in front of us: tree limbs, paper, planks of wood, signs and remnants of buildings that had taken a hit.

  We moved slowly out of Crow, West Virginia; we didn’t really have a choice. I couldn’t figure out where the water was coming from. I knew there was a series of creeks that ran along Interstate sixty-four. Farley’s was the largest of them even then it wasn’t big enough to cause this much water.

  Then Lane pointed out there was a small lake a few miles south of Crow. Had so much water fallen that the lakes had swelled this much or did the water just have nowhere to go? I never understood flooding.

  It was four miles to the highway, for some reason I had this idea that once we reached the highway everything would be alright. Or at least once we hit the mountains and started increasing elevation. Then I thought about the bridge. It was nowhere near as high as the huge scenic one, but it was still a bridge, and I knew how the wind swept around those.

  We made it farther than I expected when Martin didn’t use the radio, but instead, put on the blinkers and pulled over to the side of the road. I knew he was out of gas. He made a radio call he was puttering on the last fumes.

  He got out of the truck wearing a baseball cap and he lifted his hood, walking with shoulders hunched in the rain to the driver’s window of the RV.

  “Gonna check the horses and I’ll be right in. How are you doing on gas?” he asked.

  “We have just above a quarter tank,” Lane answered. “We’re good.”

  Martin walked away from the window. Lane looked at the side view mirror, watching him, then I looked at mine. Two mirrors were anchored by the window, a round one on top and square one on the bottom. I couldn’t see Martin until he walked from the back.

  He got into the RV and said all was good.

  But it wasn’t.

  He was soaking wet, and the temperature had dropped drastically.

  “Just um,” Martin lowered his voice. “Try your best
to go a little faster, I am not liking the look of that cloud.”

  I glanced out the windshield, he had to be referring to the thick black monster that hovered awfully low. The bottom of it had arms of dark cloud matter that seemed to reach out and whip about.

  Lane tried to pick up speed, but it was hard the way things rolled across the highway. I suffered major anxiety the closer we drew to the bridge.

  I knew we were close. My ears started popping as we began our ascent. The mountainous range was to my right, the other side an open area with the dark cloud looming.

  We had to be getting to a safe area. We had to.

  Right?

  I felt the slight rumbling under my feet, it came from the floor of the RV. I wondered if it was something mechanical. Maybe the tie rod since we had been going through so much debris.

  “Do you feel that?” I asked Lane.

  “Yeah. Is it the … is it the RV?”

  He whispered, barely heard as he glanced sideways at me. “I don’t think so.”

  I looked back to the RV, packed with people and supplies. Everyone sat where they could. The children were the only ones strapped in.

  A rush of nerves hit me; my heart raced. We literally were putting all of our eggs in one basket, with the people and supplies. With the ground vibrating my anxiety grew worse as I stared ahead to where the four lane highway split to go over the bridge.

  We were done if the road gave out on that bridge.

  In my mind I prayed, ‘Please don’t let the road give out when we’re on that bridge’

  My prayers were answered.

  The road gave out before the bridge.

  The slight vibration increased to a rumble and Lane hit the gas. The RV didn’t sway, it shook and bounced as if Lane were driving over boulders. His hands gripped the steering wheel and his gaze kept going from forward to the mirror.

  “It’s breaking up,” Lane said.

  “The RV?’

  “No, the road. Behind us, it’s breaking up.”

  I wanted to tell him to go faster, but my fear was the road was going to break up all the way to the bridge and beyond. I looked to the rearview mirror, expecting the highway to have dropped into the abyss like some science fiction movie. But it was as Lane described, breaking up behind us. It folded to the pressure of the pouring rain the water coming off the mountain.