“So, I shift one through five.” Moe kept the clutch pressed in and moved the gear shift through all the positions. “Then I hit the load selector switch.” He hit the switch. “Now I can move to sixth gear.” He shifted as he spoke. “Understand, so far?”
“I think so,” Waki bit her lip. “After you hit the high-load selector, you can shift to the higher gears.”
“Something like that,” Moe smiled as he watched her try to grasp the shifting pattern. “Now, see this little switch on the side of the gear shift? This splits all those gears in half.”
“Giving you eighteen total gears,” Ron said, nodding as if his old training were coming back to him.
“That’s right,” Moe agreed. “The trick is to get good at working the selectors while driving, turning, and hauling heavy loads. And the truck will feel completely different when you attach a trailer to it.”
The trainees nodded, and Moe watched the wheels spin inside their heads as they stared at the gear shift. He grinned, remembering that sinking feeling on his first day of training. He barely imagined driving the truck in a straight line much less taking his rig off-roading through a creek like he had the other day.
He showed them by example for the next twenty minutes, driving around the big dirt patch and onto the road, shifting through the first ten gears seamlessly. He knew better than anyone that experience was key, so he switched seats with Waki and let her have a shot at it.
She did fine on the first five gears but struggled on the higher ones. One time, she got distracted looking down and nearly lost control of the rig, almost sending them into a ditch.
After Moe grabbed the wheel and straightened them out, he’d ordered a quick ten-minute break to calm their nerves. A wreck like that would have been disastrous for the tribe. His rig was the only one they had, and Waki knew it. She stood off to the side for ten minutes, quietly crying.
It wasn’t the time to baby her, so he’d let her clear her head before ordering her back into the truck.
Upon resuming, Waki did much better. Tongue pressed between her lips in concentration, she turned the rig around and shifted through tenth gear on their way back to the dirt patch.
“Very good,” Moe applauded and grinned with pride. “It’s a beast of a machine, but it will treat you right if you’re good to it. Now, put it in neutral and switch seats with Ron.”
The pair swapped positions, and Waki sat on the sleeper with her right hand clutched to her chest, flexing it.
“This is crazy hard,” she said, eyes uncertain but not defeated.
“It’s okay,” Moe encouraged her. “You’re doing great.”
Ron was in his early forties, his short, black hair streaked with gray. He wore blue jeans and a blue flannel shirt, looking the trucker part. He’d been a mechanic before being indoctrinated into the scavenging team, and he’d repaired a rig or two in his lifetime. With his experience, he quickly picked up the shifting pattern. Soon, he was driving up and down the road, moving through the upper gears and pushing the rig to fifty-five miles per hour.
Impressed, and feeling more than a little encouraged by their progress, Moe told Ron to pull up by the empty trailer. He went over the air brake system and all the other gauges and controls. Then he showed them how to back up and connect the trailer. They alternated driving for the next hour to acclimate themselves to the added weight.
After four hours, Moe signaled Waki to park the rig. He turned in his seat to face them.
“That’s the lesson.” He shrugged. “You’ve both graduated from the Moe Tsosie school of driving.”
Ron chuckled, but Waki wore a sour, uncertain expression.
“What’s wrong, sister?”
“Ron did great,” she replied. “He should be the one to drive. I’ll be a guard or help load the supplies.”
Moe shook his head emphatically. “You can’t back out now, sis. I want you to drive my truck. Because when you see another abandoned rig out there, I want Ron to take it.”
The trainees shared a glance before looking at their instructor.
“Two rigs. Two trailers. More supplies.” Waki nodded, contemplating the expanding enterprise.
“Don’t take any unnecessary risks to get one,” Moe said, “but keep your eyes open.”
They nodded, their expressions sober as the weight of responsibility settled squarely on their shoulders.
He levelled his gaze at them. “I want you both to practice for eight hours a day, three straight days. We should have enough fuel and supplies for you to get the practice time plus make a trip. And you can refuel on the way as well. If the pumps don’t work, go inside and look for a backup generator. Most gas stations will have them.”
The pair nodded.
“And the sheriff has the full plan on which cities you need to hit first. Rex and Casey will oversee defense...” Moe stopped talking, realizing the two were probably about to explode from information overload. “Just keep practicing and going over the plan. You were both there last time, and you know what to watch out for. You can handle anything.” Moe pointed to the pair. “You’re a team now. Maybe the team.”
Ron and Waki shared a look, and his sister nodded to him that she understood.
The sound of helicopter rotors whirring stirred up from the canyon, flitting on the wind. As if on cue, his CB radio kicked to life, and Captain Bryant’s voice piped through.
“Melissa to Moe. I’m almost ready down here. What’s your ETA?”
He grabbed the mic and put it to his mouth, hitting the talk button. “Twenty minutes. See you soon.”
Moe placed the mic back in its holder and stared out the windshield into the sky. He turned to Ron and gripped his arm in a firm handshake. Then he shifted and faced his sister. She flew across the space between them, throwing her arms around his neck and squeezing hard. He returned the embrace before taking a last look at his remaining sibling.
Her wide, dark eyes blinked at him. “Good luck, brother.”
“You, too, sis.” He reached out and pushed a short lock of hair from her eyes, tucking it beneath the bandage she still wore.
Moe opened his door and climbed down from the passenger seat. He shut it and placed his palm against the door’s warm metal, asking for the gods’ blessings for his truck and Ron and Waki.
Then he turned and walked toward the North Rim camp where Sage held Copper’s reins, waiting to take him down to the chopper.
Chapter 6
Kim, Marion, Tennessee
Kim pulled the blue bus up a steep incline and into the Hampton Inn Parking lot in Marion, just outside West Memphis. They’d picked the spot because the hotel sat atop a hill overlooking the surroundings. The exit was dotted with fast-food restaurants, more hotels, and other commercial establishments. It seemed like a safe place to stop before they turned west into Arkansas.
The Stryker rolled into the lot behind her as Kim pointed the bus toward downtown Memphis and parked it. Little Karen Reese sat in the seat next to her, and together they stared at the drifting smoke rising from the troubled city.
“That doesn’t look good,” the girl said.
“No, it doesn’t,” Kim agreed. “And my friend has to drive through that to meet us.”
They couldn’t see the Memphis skyline or make out any buildings, but at least a dozen trails of smoke floated into the morning sky.
“What do you think, Bishop?” Kim asked.
He responded in her earpiece. “There’s definitely activity there, and I can’t imagine it’s good. And you say there’s only two bridges downtown that span the Mississippi River into West Memphis?”
“That’s right.” Kim glanced down at the map on her GPS screen. “There’s the I-55 bridge and another on I-40, where Jessie will be coming in. And I don’t see any other way to cross for miles in either direction.”
“They’ll have to drive through downtown to get to Arkansas.”
“Yep, unless they bypass the city and find a different route. But tha
t could take days.”
“Days we don’t have.”
Yesterday’s drive hadn’t been as productive as they would have liked. They’d started well enough after leaving the truck stop, but the kids’ fussing had forced them to take a break three hours later. At Blytheville, Arkansas, they’d taken a detour at the town’s primary exit. Two semi-trailer trucks had wrecked in a horrific pileup that included another dozen cars and pickups. They’d spun out or smashed headlong into the wreckage to form a massive pile of twisted metal.
Not wanting to damage the Stryker by pushing through, they’d turned around and gone back to the last exit ramp, switched to the northbound lane, and continued their journey. After several more pit stops and delays, Kim had called it a night and settled in to get some sleep.
They had made better progress this morning, kicking off their drive with a breakfast of stale cookies, water, canned peanuts and dried fruit.
Kim shifted her eyes from the smoke trails to the console clock. It read 9:55 AM.
“I’m going to call Jessie and see where they are,” she told Bishop, then switched her tone for AMI. “Patch me into Jessie in my earpiece.”
“Connecting.” AMI’s polite voice was surreal against the backdrop of the burning city.
A moment passed before Jessie spoke sharply in her ear “Tell me you’re okay and making good time,” was the first thing she blurted.
“Well, good morning to you, too,” Kim replied with a chuckle. “We’re just west of Memphis in a town called Marian. What about you guys?”
“We finally made it through Nashville after five roadblocks.” She clicked her tongue.
“Regular wrecks or man-made?”
“I’d say a little of both.”
“Did you try to get around the city and avoid downtown?”
“Absolutely,” Jessie replied. “But even the bypasses were blocked. We ended up taking some back roads and rejoined I-40 west of the city.”
“Good job,” Kim said with a sigh.
“Are you heading on to Arkansas ahead of us?”
Kim glanced at her map again. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. We’re looking toward Memphis, and the city is burning hot.”
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. And according to my map, I only see two bridges you can cross, both of them taking you through downtown.”
There was a pause, and Jessie sighed in frustration. “My map here is telling me there aren’t any bridges for miles in either direction.”
“You’re seeing the same thing as me.”
“Wait, I see one in Dyersburg,” Jessie corrected herself. “We could take some back roads to I-55, cross the Mississippi, hop on I-55, and come down behind you. It would only be a few hours delay. You’ll have to hold tight for us there.”
Kim used her fingers to manipulate her GPS screen and saw what she was talking about. “That would work,” she said. “Yes, we can certainly wait for you here.”
“We can take the Stryker and scout ahead a bit,” Bishop spoke over the channel. “We’ll be safe unless someone has some serious weaponry.”
“Hi, Bishop,” Jessie said. It was her first time speaking with the man. “Kim told us a lot about you.”
“Ah, hey, Jessie. Good to finally speak with you, too. I’m looking forward to meeting everyone. Our first concern is getting you to us safely.”
“Bishop, I want you to meet Bryant. He’s on the line with us as well.”
“The lieutenant colonel?”
“One in the same,” the soldier said. “Good to meet you, sir.”
“You, too. Thank you for helping Kim in Washington and Yellow Springs.”
“It was a pleasure,” Bryant replied. “And I’ll shake your hand as soon as we get there. For now, I can help you with the Stryker. I trained on that vehicle extensively. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re able to drive it with no training.
“My son is in the navigator seat,” Bishop said. “He figured out the camera controls and even used the turret gun once.”
Bryant scoffed impressively. “He figured it out from scratch?”
“Not exactly. Trevor was infatuated with military vehicles the past couple of years. He even downloaded some manuals. He actually guided me through the startup sequence on this puppy.”
“That’s amazing.” Bryant spoke in a mystified tone. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
Kim knew how hard it was to impress the soldier, and her heart swelled with pride. She’d taken for granted what a good kid Trevor was. Bishop had talked to him about killing those people back in Salina, sparing Kim the task.
“Okay, guys,” Jessie said. “I’m going to redirect our course and get us turned around. We’ll be there as fast as we can.”
“See you soon,” Kim started to sign off when her husband caught her at the last second.
“Lieutenant Colonel Bryant,” Bishop blurted. “Can we patch you into the Stryker and get your expertise as we scout around?”
“Absolutely,” the soldier replied. “And just call me Bryant.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kim had AMI patch him into the armored vehicle. Then she stood and crossed her arms over her chest. The kids were settled, looking bored or taking turns playing games on the tablets. She raised her hand. “Okay, who wants to get off the cramped-up bus for a bit?”
Arms flew up, and cheers rang out.
“Let’s mask up!”
*
Bishop turned the Stryker until he could see his wife and children filing off the bus. One kid threw a soccer ball down and kicked it to another. Soon, they were booting the ball between them, laughing as they played.
In turn, the kids from the Stryker got on the bus to have their late breakfast. Kim stepped away from the group to give them space, holding her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the sun.
“They’re so careful with their masks.” His gaze lingered on his sunbathed wife for a moment and then traced across the playing children.
“They know what will happen if they take them off,” Kim replied. “Plus, I’m here to make sure they don’t get too rough. That’s why they play in shifts.”
“How’s Savannah?”
Kim glanced over to where the woman leaned against the side of the bus, following the ball with her eyes as the kids booted it around. A little girl stood next to her, mimicking her pose.
“She’s great, so far,” Kim said. “Getting better by the hour, but it’s a slow process. I’m thinking of giving her another serum dose.”
“Do we have enough? I mean, we have a limited supply, right?”
“I can make more.”
“But not easily.”
“No.”
“Who’s that little girl with her?”
“That’s Mary. She’s cute, but quiet.”
“I thought the kids were afraid of Savannah. You know, because she was one of the Ugly Eight.”
“It’s a long story,” Kim replied. “But I don’t think she’s the villain in all this.”
“I trust you.” Bishop revved the Stryker’s engine and leaned back in his seat, looking at Trevor where the boy rested his elbows on the camera console. “Ready to go, son?”
“Ready,” the boy said, stiffening in his chair.
“Ready, Bryant?”
“I’m here,” the soldier’s gruff voice spoke into his earpiece.
Bishop turned the big, armored truck toward the hotel exit and joined a service road that wound them past blackened restaurants and a gas station and down to the main strip. He took an immediate right and pushed the Stryker up to thirty miles per hour to join I-55.
“I figure we’ll check the highway into West Memphis and make sure there are no roadblocks.” Bishop glanced down at his speed and fuel.
“Good idea,” the soldier said.
“How’s it look out there, Trevor?”
“Pretty clear all around. No major wrecks. Nothing’s burning.”
“Do you know how to
work the imaging magnification?” Bryant asked.
“I’ve been using the switches on the joysticks,” the boy replied. “Seems like I can zoom in about a quarter mile.”
“Oh, you’re in for a big surprise,” the soldier said. “See the white button next to the forward imaging camera?”
“Yeah.”
“Hit that.”
A click sounded in the cockpit before his son burst out, “Whoa! That’s amazing.”
“What is it?” Bishop asked with wide-eyed interest.
“I just zoomed halfway across the world,” his son said with a laugh. “Okay, maybe not that far. But I can see all the way down to the expressway junction.”
“Now, use your joystick switches to zoom in and out,” Bryant instructed. “You should have an optical range of over two miles in the daytime. At night, thermal imaging will be reliable up to about a mile and a half.”
The boy couldn’t contain his exuberance. “This is awesome. I can see way off the roadsides and read license plates on cars. We’ve got a couple of jams up ahead, Dad. Whoa. This is making me a little dizzy.”
“It’ll take time to get used to being in the command seat,” Bryant laughed.
Bishop chuckled, pushing down a twinge of jealousy. “All I have is this thin window to see out of.”
“I didn’t think of that,” the soldier said. “I’ll walk you through how to activate the driver’s virtual headset with the exterior cameras. It also has thermal imaging for nighttime. It will change your world.”
Bryant regaled them with facts about the Stryker while they advanced toward the blocked portions of road.
“The first models had some flaws,” he said, “but they worked those out. They re-designed the hull, making it into a V shape to protect against improvised explosive devices.”
“IEDs?” Trevor asked.
“Right. They called the new design DVH–Double V-shaped Hull. I wouldn’t expect you to understand the lingo, but it’s what they call a semi-active suspension. ”
“Cool.”
“And you can alter the tire pressure depending on the terrain,” Bryant continued. “It can host a vast array of weapon systems. You said you fired the machine gun on top.”
Spore Series | Book 5 | Torch Page 6