Into the End, page 8
A potential enemy didn’t run from the plane or the woods and attack her kids. The clank of metal on metal broke the reverence they’d been trapped in. “Sorry.” Josh called, his voice burning in the heat of the plane as it crested from the other side.
Rachel swiped at the shimmering glass. Heat sizzled the ends of the moss but a large enough cut through the black coating showed nothing in the front seat. No chairs, no bodies, no steering wheel, nothing.
She dropped the moss and stepped backward. No body. The heat would have killed anything, but it wouldn’t have turned a body into a pile of nothing. The bones would still be there, or a pile of ash, anything, not nothing.
A twig snapped under foot and she glanced down. Long parallel drag marks led a path into the woods a few trees away from where she’d grabbed the moss. The survivor or more than one might wait in the woods. Was she stupid enough to check?
Josh called to her from the other side, but she couldn’t place his words. He called again.
Rachel raised her eyes, placing her hand at the small of her back.
He rounded the mashed nose of the plane. Josh watched her every move, his gaze flitting to check on the kids. His stance stiffened and he watched the plane and Rachel for an indicator of what exactly was going on. Rachel answered the question in his eyes with a shake of her head. His jaw tightened. Her fingers wrapped around the gun and she pulled it from the band of her jeans.
He removed his own gun from some hidden place. Rachel tapped the drag marks with her toe, bringing his attention down. She moved backwards, eyes on the trail and their point of disappearance. Her kids. She had to get to the kids.
The sound of an engine turning over broke the tension. Rachel stepped toward the trail. The quad.
Running toward the path, she skidded over loose metal and rocks in her hard-soled boots. Mid-stride, she cocked the Glock, passing the kids in her flight. The thunder of Josh’s steps slowed behind her and his voice carried on the mild breeze. “Cole, all of you, follow me.”
Even in their haste, the small group arrived too late. The tail end of the trailer crashed along behind her four-wheeler at a terrified pace. Rachel aimed and shot at a spot above the driver’s head. He only ducked and pushed the engine harder.
Son of a bitch.
Chapter 8: Tom
TOM COULDN’T SLEEP. The smoke from Spokane burning covered the night sky. Stars didn’t shine through and the moon competed with the smoke and clouds. His parents. Jenny’s parents. The girls at the campground. The ranger.
His stomach ached. He hadn’t eaten since the day before.
Jenny tossed beside him in her seat, trying to curl onto her side. Her ponytail had loosened sometime in the last few hours and brown strands lay across her cheek and trailed down her neck. Tom had never been able to get her alone in the hallway, forget about a car overnight. His mom would freak. Jenny didn’t seem overly concerned.
Watching her kept his mind off the issues at hand. For a while.
The Subaru had made it back to Trent, the highway between Idaho and Washington. Tom suggested they head into Idaho away from Spokane.
Earthquakes and tsunamis had crippled the western part of Washington. If Tom and Jenny drove west, they wouldn’t find anyone to help them. They’d just run into more refugees.
Seattle was gone. Olympia gone. Spokane’s hospitals were gone. All major disaster units were decimated. Four hours west and they’d hit ocean.
Give it time. Tom’s dad had guaranteed Medical Lake and Cheney would soon have salty beach property.
Northern Idaho and Montana hadn’t been struck with tragedy that ate half their land. Tornadoes, storms and failing economy, sure, but their mountains hadn’t moved and water hadn’t swallowed them whole.
Tom and Jenny hadn’t made it far when they reached the constipated crux of highway. Cars sat idle as people shouted left and right. Jenny couldn’t get across the line of vehicles driving into Spokane. Bumper-to-bumper terror.
“Maybe we should go into Spokane, too.” Jenny had offered.
Tom had spluttered, trying not to yell. “No, we can’t go into town.”
“Why not?”
“Because we don’t know if the attacks are over.” He hoped they were, but more than likely, they weren’t.
“There aren’t any more bombs going off. Other people are headed into town. Come on. We might be able to find our parents, get some food.” She had clenched her fingers into her flat stomach. “I’m so hungry.”
He’d sighed and looked at her with sadness in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Jenny. You can go if you want to. I can get out here. But, please, think about it. The attack may or may not have been meant solely for the base. Why would they stop when Fairchild isn’t completely down? Or the town? They’re waiting until more people come together to get aid before they drop the rest of the missiles.” He had looked out the window at the cars honking in the afternoon light, the line moving an inch at a time, faces pressed against rear windows as each vehicle was packed with possessions. “It’s what I would do, so imagine what someone who wants to kill us would do.”
She hadn’t argued with him. Eventually, she’d London-crawled the car across the busy highway onto the empty lane running into Idaho. The car had sputtered out of gas just north of Post Falls. Tom had suggested they wait for dark. But once night had fallen Jenny had been too scared to leave the car.
Tom was too scared to sleep.
Jenny opened her eyes, her voice husky in the intimate setting. “Can’t sleep?”
He wiped his hand down his face and moved his tongue behind his closed lips. His mouth was so dry. “No. I don’t feel safe out in the middle where anyone can see us. I had men trying to kill me, remember?”
“Me, too.” Oh, right, they’d shot at her as well. Guilt pushed on his stomach, or maybe that was his bladder. She glanced over his shoulder out the window and then back at his face. “Well, what do you suggest?”
“We need to move. The car isn’t worth much without gas.” Tom shifted in the passenger seat, resting his hands on his legs. The wide shoulder of the road led a significant distance along the highway or offered a turn down a straight stretch of road, discernible only by the pale buildings dotting the prairie fields shrouded in darkness and layering smoke.
“But we’re protected.” Jenny’s eyes widened, showing the whites.
“No, we’re not. Not only could those men find us, but if anyone wanted to rob us, we’re sitting ducks.” He gave her a moment to consider their position. “If I were alone, I’d go down that road until I hit a neighborhood. If no one was home and it looked deserted, I’d probably go into a house, get some food, and then head into the mountain range. I heard there’s militia up that way. It’d be safer than sitting here or going west.”
Her lower lip jutted out with the fervor of stubborn female salsa. “What do you mean militia? Do you think I’ll slow you down or that I can’t go that way?”
“I mean people with guns and some way to protect us. My dad told me they’re thick up there.” Tom held up his hands. “And I’m not saying you would slow me down at all. I know all about your running times in track. I’m just sharing what I would do, if I were the only one making decisions.” He looked over his shoulder out the rearview mirror. The line of red serpent eyes had only gotten longer and the tail end was closing in on their location. Anger, frustration and fatigue would be the ruling factor alongside fear. People were little more than animals when threatened or faced with road rage. He swallowed. It was against everything in his survival instincts to sit there and do nothing.
The last thing Tom wanted to be around when he grieved for his town, his family, his friends and his home was someone else’s loss.
A loud boom called from behind the car, close enough to rattle the windows but far enough to not damage the vehicle. Tom opened the door and jumped from his seat.
Wind from the explosion buffeted his face with gritty heat, particles heavy on his tongue as he tried to breathe. Jenny followed Tom, hesitation in the slow rise of her hand to the roof. Red and orange played across her skin.
In the space of the heartbeat between the noise and leaving the car, screams rent the air. A few cars flashed their reverse lights and squealed backward, rear-ending others behind them in a mad dash to turn around.
Whistle. Kaboom. Another car disappeared leaving a roiling ball of flames in its place. The recoil from the blast, closer than the last, knocked Tom into the open door, a handle crunching into the muscle of his thigh.
Something was dropping bombs or flying missiles at the trapped vehicles. Tom didn’t know what was going on, but there were too many people in the vicinity and it most likely wasn’t going to stop. He slammed the door shut and opened the back. “Jenny, we need to go. If you want to stay with the car, that’s fine, but I’m leaving.” Tom pulled his backpack from the seat. He didn’t want to leave her but he couldn’t force anyone to do anything they didn’t want to. And as cute as she was, he didn’t want to die.
Without speaking, Jenny copied his motions but leaned under her front seat and pulled out an item she tucked into her duffel bag.
“Do you have everything you need?” Tom swung his pack on his back and clipped the waist strap. At her nod, he glanced once more to the burning vehicles. He wanted to help the people, but urgency to get away from the site rushed him to the side of the road and across the perpendicular street.
The crush of rocks on pavement under Jenny’s feet matched his pace. Ducking into the ditch on the east side of the road, they crouched behind the overgrowth for protection.
Cars squealed away from the accident, honking at each other and hurtling away into the night. A black truck, orange and yellow reflecting off the paint, pulled alongside the abandoned Subaru. Two men climbed from the cab and shot their guns into the front and rear windows.
Jenny covered her mouth to muffle a gasp. Tom’s jaw dropped. Across the rough gravel, their fingers sought each other and clutched with desperation in the night.
Looking through the shattered glass into the empty interior, the men waved their hands, shouting as they proceeded to dump gas onto the car. A small flicker of light illuminated the hardened face of one of the men. A man Tom recognized from his house. Flames overtook the interior.
Jenny laid her head on her arms. Tom placed his hand on her back and patted softly, never taking his eyes from the scene. The men drove away from the explosions, headed straight for their hiding spot. Tom tensed. “Close your eyes and don’t move.” Jenny froze. Her silent sobs paused while she held her breath.
The truck didn’t slow as it took the corner, tires squealing as they revved down the road. Rocks flew through the air and peppered the brush Tom and Jenny hid behind.
Increasing flames lit up the night. Jenny grasped his hand again and met his gaze. “What now?”
He looked down the road, pretending her touch wasn’t the one bright spot in the night. The truck’s lights were visible but shrinking fast. “We have to go that way. I don’t know what’s past Rathdrum. I need to get supplies and we won’t get any in the woods. At least not yet.”
Jenny nodded slowly. “Okay. Lead the way.” Her white clothes and white and pink duffel had a dim glow.
“We need to get you darker clothes. I can see you like you have a light under your skin.” Tom nodded at her.
“Okay.” Jenny fell into his jogging step, matching his speed and artfully dodging rocks and holes that would roll ankles. They fell into a rhythm, pat-pat, breathe, pat-pat, breathe. A clump wound itself through every other step as their packs slammed onto their hips.
Tom glanced her way every couple seconds, startled to find her doing the same. He offered her a half-smile which she returned. His smile grew.
No street lights illuminated the way. A lack of stars and the struggling moon offered very little in guiding them to a neighborhood. Another car turned onto the road. They jumped from the side of the road and onto the prairie. The car sped past without acknowledging their presence.
Tom found his pattern to which Jenny continued to meet perfectly. He spoke with little effort. “Let’s stay on the field. We might be able to cut across in a bit.”
They fell silent. Inhales and exhales matched like the rhythm of their feet over the late-spring tilled ground. Random cars passed by on the road but Tom and Jenny had moved into the field and the distance added safety from discovery.
“Tom, are those houses?”
Hard to decipher against the night sky, roof lines slashed here and there, some with fences, some without. “Yeah, let’s slow down.” He needed to get his bearings. The house he wanted should be close unless he had gotten all turned around. Or she’d moved.
Post Falls, Idaho was infamous for neighborhoods planted in farm fields. Some people could look out their back window and see another house or a busy road while others saw budding grain or a combine pushing through the golden rows.
Stopping on the sidewalk before the corner, Tom didn’t know which way to go. They needed food and a place to hide, at least for a little while. He needed time to rest so he could formulate a plan. He’d been up for too long and worry nipped at his concentration while fatigue crunched it in two.
Jenny couldn’t be much better. She’d had two friends die and she didn’t know about her parents or other family members. Like Tom.
To the left, a house looked vaguely familiar. The angles were right, but he didn’t remember a fence. The color of the house was unrecognizable in the dark. Hope pushed him in that direction.
“This one looks deserted. See if the gate opens. I’ll keep an eye out.” Tom glanced up and down the roads. No cars had passed by in a while and he hadn’t seen a soul in or around the other houses. The field was black. Minimal sounds amplified in the dark. An angry dog barked a few streets over, but overall nothing else suggested other people were in the area.
“It’s clear.” Jenny called and held open the gate until Tom passed. She allowed it to click shut. The white vinyl fence glowed in the dark. As much as it could without light.
A shape similar to a deck and stairs loomed out of the sea of black grass. Tom took Jenny’s hand without thinking and led the way to the steps. She didn’t pull away.
First and foremost on the list of necessities was food. He didn’t want to loot, could care less in fact what kind of material belongings the house held. Food. He was interested in the food. Needed the food. And if no one was there, maybe never returning, why let the food go to waste? And if the house was the one he thought it was, the owner wouldn’t mind.
Jenny didn’t question his hold on her hand. She squeezed and whispered, “I’m a little scared.”
He held onto his macho attitude and didn’t tell her he was peeing-his-pants scared.
The stairs squeaked and Tom held his breath. Up another. And yet another. At the top, he pressed his back into the cool vinyl siding, his free hand palm down on the faux wood grain.
Heck, he was more than a little scared. If a girl hadn’t been with him, a cute girl at that, he’d probably cry. Well, maybe not, but he was definitely scared. He reached out and pushed on the handle of the slider, soft at first then harder. A sucking sound, followed by a quiet rub, allowed Tom to release the air on a whoosh from his lungs. Unlocked, thank goodness. He tugged on Jenny’s fingers.
Warmer than outside, the house had a lived-in feel. The smell of marinara sauce and ripe peaches called to their bellies. Plants brushed their jacket sleeves when they passed.
Tom’s foot connected with a dog dish sitting on the floor of the kitchen. It clattered across the linoleum, no water or food spilling from it. He and Jenny jumped and then offered a small laugh. Maybe it had just been a bowl dropped to the ground and never picked up.
Not expecting much, Tom flipped the nearest light switch without result. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. The faint glow felt like sunshine to their overtaxed eyes. Adjusting to the presence of sight was easy.
Jenny ran her fingers over her hair to smooth out strands and shifted her gaze to Tom and away again. He was suddenly self-conscious of how he looked too. “Let’s get a quick lay of the land and turn the light off. We have no idea if those men are still out there and how much of this flame you can see from the road.”
Jenny nodded. “Do you think the water still works?”
“It should. Do you have any water bottles?” Tom tugged his backpack off and withdrew two empty bottles. Water was essential but he’d had to flee his house before he could fill them. Dry bottles only played havoc when one was hungry and thirsty. And he could definitely use the toilet.
From inside her large duffel, Jenny pulled out three different water bottles. “I was going to fill them before our hike in the afternoon, but... well...” She looked at the elongated flame in Tom’s hand. “Do you think we’ll get to go back home?” Her voice was small and for the first time since he’d met her, Jenny looked really lost. She’d been scared at the campground but confident running. The situation was as wearing on her as it was on Tom.
“Honestly? I don’t know how much of a home we have left. But if we get back, I’d love to take you out to the movies on Friday. We could go get a pizza and drink all the root beer we can handle.” He smiled. She had to perk up. Tom was holding it together but with control thinner than a spider’s thread – for her.
Swiping at her face, Jenny offered a half-smile. “I’d love to, Tom, and I’m going to hold you to it. My dad might...” Crestfallen at the thought of her loved ones missing, Jenny fell into the nearest dining room chair and sighed. “I have no idea what’s going on. Is there any way we can find out something?”
A task! The job kick-started another adrenaline push. “I’ll look around. You find food and we’ll meet back here. We need to try to get some rest before the morning.” Jenny didn’t stay in the kitchen, instead she followed Tom. He looked over his shoulder. Of course she’d stay with him, he had the only light in the place. Or maybe she enjoyed his company. A boy could hope.
