Tempest

by Kenny Soward

  “Bingo,” Marcy said, helping herself to an apple juice. “This should buck up our energy levels.”

  They each grabbed several assorted bottles and placed them on the prep counter along with some bottled water. A shelf full of dry goods yielded a few potatoes, some salt packets, and canned pineapples, all of which they added to the stuff on the prep table. Then they looked around for something to put the food in.

  There were a set of lockers in the back where the employees kept their things. None of them were locked, so Jake opened them one by one until he found a brown and gray backpack that looked strong enough to hold his food without ripping. Marcy found one she liked, too, a black one with thick, padded straps. They went back to the prep table, stuffed the backpacks with food, and added a can opener.

  “Make sure not to load up too much,” Jake warned, removing a can of pineapples. “We don’t know how long we’ll be walking.”

  “Right.”

  A block of chef’s knives caught his eye, so he went over to check it out, inspecting each blade until he found one that looked wickedly sharp but wasn’t too large.

  “Just in case,” he said, placing the knife inside a pocket on his backpack. “You might want to grab one, too.”

  Marcy gave him a quick nod and then went to find a knife for herself.

  Jake tried on his backpack, wincing at the weight. It wasn’t too bad now, but an hour with this strapped to his back would have his shoulders screaming. Still, it was better to have more than less, and he could always lighten the load later.

  Marcy pulled a shoestring out of her pocket and tied it to the ends of her glasses. “If I lose these,” she said, putting her glasses on with the shoestring around her neck, “I’m in trouble.”

  “Good idea,” Jake said.

  Backpacks and glasses secured, Jake and Marcy went back to the Westin lobby. It was rainy and windy through the broken glass of the hotel, and cars and debris were spread all over the valet lot.

  “Looks dangerous out there,” Marcy said, biting her lip.

  “Yeah, who knows how long it will take for the rescue crews to find us? And how will they know people are here unless we tell them?”

  “Quit making sense,” Marcy said.

  “Okay,” Jake replied with a wry smile. “It’s going to be complete nonsense from now on.”

  “Oh, boy.” Marcy shook her head and then fixed him with a questioning look. “You ready?”

  “Not really,” Jake said. “Let’s go anyway.”

  Chapter 6

  Sara, Sevierville, Tennessee | 8:20 a.m., Saturday

  They arrived in Sevierville, Tennessee at 8:20 a.m., Saturday morning. The kids were tired and grumpy, and Sara’s heart felt like a weight was pressing on it. Though they’d faced no trouble on the road in, Sara feared the same situation in Maryville might have already spread to Sevierville.

  Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, although traffic was lighter than normal for a small town packed with tourists all year around. Officer Riley haunted her thoughts. It wasn’t just the information she’d given Sara about Boston. It was the woman’s brave expression when she went through the back-office door with her gun drawn to face imminent danger.

  “I hope you’re okay, you brave lady,” Sara whispered beneath her breath.

  She came to an intersection and slowed the van while she considered where to go next. She should have kept going to Veteran’s Boulevard and then up to Pine Bluff where their cabin was located, but she whipped the van right and stayed on Route 441 toward Pigeon Forge instead.

  “Where are we going?” Todd asked wearily from the passenger seat. He’d been dozing for the past hour, but he must have woken up and recognized they weren’t on the way to the cabin.

  “Just a quick detour,” Sara said and left it at that.

  Tourist shops lined both sides of the road all the way to Pigeon Forge. Some stores sold souvenir junk, others sold quality goods; there were plenty of rock shops, restaurants, and antique malls to choose from. Sara especially loved the barns and back rooms packed with historical artifacts, but right now she needed information.

  “There,” Sara murmured, pulling into a parking lot on the right. The place looked warm and friendly, and not overly crowded. She was sure to find some news inside.

  “You’re seriously stopping to buy cowboy boots at Junkie Joe’s Boot Shop?” Todd asked, waking up even more and rubbing his eyes.

  “Maybe,” Sara quipped. “I’ve always wanted a pair.”

  “Doesn’t seem like a good time for boots.” Todd shook his head. “But you’re the mom.”

  “Indeed, I am.” Sara got out of the van, opened the side door, and helped her daughter unbuckle. Once free, the girl jumped down and slipped her hand into Sara’s.

  “When can we have pancakes, Mom?” Zoe asked. After the initial shock of seeing her mother fighting with a police officer, and the gun going off, Zoe hadn’t complained. She’d even fallen fast asleep soon after they left Maryville. Sara attributed that to her son’s quick attention and a big, furry dog named Rex. Even so, Sara knew she’d have to speak with her daughter about it soon. She couldn’t imagine what dark images must be floating around inside the girl’s head.

  “Soon as we’re done in the boot shop, honey,” Sara said. “We’ll head straight to the cabin, and I’ll make you some pancakes. I might even put blueberries in them.”

  “I love blueberries,” Zoe said with quiet enthusiasm.

  “Why do you think I put them in there?”

  “Because you love me like I love blueberries?”

  “You bet.”

  Zoe’s attention shifted quickly to the boot sign next to the front door of the shop. “Hey, can I have some boots, too?”

  “Maybe,” Sara replied as they entered and looked around.

  Todd started to dig his cell phone out of his pocket, but Sara grabbed his arm. “Todd, why don’t you take your sister to have a look around. They must have some kids’ boots somewhere.”

  “Uh, shouldn’t Zoe’s mom take her shopping?” Todd asked with a raised brow.

  “I think Zoe’s brother should do what he’s told.” She gave Todd a loving yet threatening look.

  “Fine,” Todd said glumly. “I’m sixteen, but I’ll hang out with my kid sister while my mom looks for boots.”

  “Hey, I’m not a kid,” Zoe protested. “I’m eight.”

  “Todd,” Sara said, taking her son by the arm. Todd turned and looked at her with mild annoyance. Obviously, she had his attention. “I know you think I’m crazy for stopping when we should be pressing on to the cabin, but I wanted to find out if there’s any news from Maryville.” She left out her concern about Jake possibly being trapped in Boston. Todd would eventually find out, so she wanted all the details first in case he had questions. Sara gave Zoe a pointed look. “And I just need you two to bond while I dig, if you know what I mean.”

  “Oh, right,” Todd said with dawning realization before he obediently drew his little sister away. “Let’s go look at some boots, you little booger.”

  “I’m not a booger,” Zoe argued as they moved off. “Hey, is Mom going crazy?”

  Sara smiled as the two of them walked down an aisle of men’s and women’s Western-style boots, fussing and arguing the whole way. They were the lights of her life, even as she missed Jake.

  She pulled her phone from her pocket and went straight to the text messages. There was nothing new, not even an email.

  Sara switched to her browser application and pulled up CNB news. Her mouth fell open as she read the headlines. Confirming Riley’s information, she saw storms had flattened a huge swath of the East Coast. Three tornadoes had brought Boston to its knees, driving several miles inward. Storms continued to rage, bringing floods and destruction, and most of the Eastern Seaboard was completely cut off. There was no power or communications, and no flights out from the airport.

  Sara’s heart sank. Jake was staying at the Westin, right in South Boston.
He’d have been surrounded by water when the storms hit.

  “Oh, God,” Sara moaned, putting her hand to her chest. She felt helpless being nine hundred miles away. “Oh, Jake. Please be safe. Please be okay.”

  “Can I help you, ma’am?”

  Sara’s attention jerked up as a man approached in a scuffle of boots and a big, wide smile. A black cowboy hat rested on his head, and his eyes beamed bright blue beneath a wizened brow.

  “Oh, hi,” Sara said. “You must be Junkie Joe.”

  “Well, no,” he said, apologetically. “That’s just the store name, handed down from the last owner. Did such good business that I couldn’t bring myself to change it. Everyone calls me Tex.” Tex tipped his hat.

  “Hi, Tex. I’m Sara.”

  “You looking for some boots?”

  “I was thinking about it,” Sara said, then her expression turned squeamish. “Not really, Tex. I was actually hoping you could give me some news.”

  “News?” Tex’s brow furrowed. “That’s a new one, since everyone has a fancy cell phone they can look stuff up on nowadays. I see you’ve got one right there in your hand.”

  “I was hoping you might tell me something the news can’t,” Sara said, sliding her phone back into her pocket.

  Tex’s face lit up. “Ah, you want to know something about the town? Maybe where all the good restaurants are? You know, the ones the tourists don’t know about?”

  “No.” Sara shook her head. “I want to know about Maryville. Do you know anyone who lives there? Have you heard of anything strange going on?”

  “I do have a couple of old friends in Maryville,” Tex said, thinking hard. “Maybe a cousin or two. No one I talk to daily. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, we just came from there.” Sara said. “And there’s been some trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  Sara thought hard about how much detail she wanted to give, then she figured out the right words. “I’d say they have an active shooter situation. I think some people might be dead.”

  “Oh, my,” Tex said with a wide, blue stare. “No, I haven’t heard anything, although I know an officer here in Sevierville who didn’t go east with the rescue teams. Maybe he knows something.”

  “Did you say the rescue teams went east?” Sara tried not to sound worried, and failed. “To help with the storms?”

  “Yep, a couple hundred men and women from our proud little town,” Tex said, then he shook his head pitifully. “It sounds to me like the East Coast is getting the devil beat out of it. Can hardly get anyone into the populated areas until things settle down. President is supposed to speak about it later today.”

  “I’m afraid my husband might have been caught in Boston.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Tex said, mirroring her concerned expression. “I’m sure he’s fine though.”

  “I really hope so.”

  “Hey, you want to stop by the station and give them a statement about what you think happened in Maryville?”

  “I’ve got to get my kids up to our cabin,” Sara jerked her head at the door. “We’re staying up at Pine Bluff.”

  “Pine Bluff is a nice, quiet spot,” Tex confirmed as he gazed out the door. “The storms will be here within the hour, so you better batten down. The mountains will keep the worst of it off us. We’ll get some high winds and rain. Maybe some tornadoes to the west. The storm line about to hit us is coming up through Charlotte quick. Won’t take much to wash out the roads in Pine Bluff. You don’t want to get cut off from your cabin.”

  “I didn’t realize they’d be here that quickly,” Sara said with a worried shake of her head. “I guess I should have.”

  “Then you better get going, miss.” Tex took a card from his left breast pocket and held it out. “The ones in my left pocket are for good friends. My personal cell phone number is on the back. I won’t ask you for yours, but if you call me back later tonight, I’ll let you know what I found out about Maryville.”

  “Thanks so much.” Sara took the card and gave Tex an appreciative smile. “I’ll call you as soon as we get settled in.”

  “And any time after that, if you run into trouble.”

  “Okay,” Sara nodded. “Will do.”

  She turned away from Tex and went to find Todd and Zoe. They were in the back, goofing off near a table of hats. Zoe’s head swam in a big Stetson and she couldn’t see a thing. She was trying to find Todd, who was hiding from her between the racks of boots.

  “Come on, kids,” she called to them. “It’s time to go.”

  “Oh, Mom.” Zoe giggled and leapt at her brother with both hands.

  Todd snatched the hat off her head and put it on his, giving it a little tweak between his thumb and index finger. “You heard the little lady,” he said with a Western drawl. “Time to hit the dusty road.”

  “Hey.” Zoe put her hands on her head and started to pout for the missing hat, then she saw her brother’s silly expression and giggled even harder.

  “Seriously, guys.” Sara said with growing urgency. “There’s a storm coming, and we don’t want to be caught in it. If the roads wash out, I won’t be able to make blueberry pancakes.”

  That got Zoe’s attention. The girl took one look at her mother to make sure she wasn’t kidding around, then she grabbed Todd’s hand and pulled him toward the door. Sara followed after them, thinking what an amazing motivational tool blueberry pancakes could be.

  Chapter 7

  Jake, Boston, Massachusetts | 9:20 a.m. Saturday

  Jake and Marcy walked southwest for a straight hour, making slow progress through the devastation of South Boston. They wore the ponchos Jake had found behind the Westin front desk, but that didn’t keep the rain from soaking their legs. It came at them sideways, crossways, and even bounced up at them from the ground.

  After two blocks, Jake pulled Marcy against the wall of a building with enough overhang to afford them some protection. The flood waters were surging in from the bay, running down the streets like rivers and rushing over their feet.

  Jake turned to Marcy and yelled above the wind. “You should go back! At least you’ll have a roof over your head and some protection!”

  “No way!” Marcy shouted back, looking at him through her rain-spattered lenses. She pointed southwest to indicate they should continue walking.

  Jake shrugged, pushed away from the wall, and trudged on. As he walked, he kept an eye on the high waters surging and retreating on his left. At one point, Jake noticed an incoming surge that would hit them in the knees. He grabbed Marcy by the arm and half-dragged her down the sidewalk to avoid the huge swell. The water moved fast, rising toward them like a ravenous beast charging their shins. It pushed them up the street, causing Jake to slip and nearly go down. Adrenaline shot through his bloodstream, and his heart kicked inside his chest, giving strength to his legs.

  They ran hard without looking back. Jake grunted in pain as his heavy backpack bounced on his shoulders, and Marcy’s hard breathing was right behind him. Then the water let go of them and they were suddenly free. Jake went another twenty yards before he stopped and turned to see the water retreat, taking debris with it.

  “That could have been us,” Marcy said between big gulps of air.

  Jake nodded and indicated they should keep walking. The wind screamed all around them, and the rain bit at them like tiny knives. Jake wasn’t an expert, but the winds must be close to a hundred miles per hour and gusting higher at times. They moved slowly and carefully, making sure not to hurt themselves—there was no medical attention around here, so a broken limb or a laceration could become a major problem.

  They’d gone another block when Marcy turned to Jake and pointed at a vehicle that had smashed into a pole.

  “Should we check the cars?” Marcy screamed the question.

  Jake shrugged. There could be things of use inside the cars. Maybe one of them even worked and they could drive it to the edge of the city, but Jake didn’t think so. V
isibility was zero, and the roads were clogged with other cars and impassible debris. On the other hand, there could be injured people inside them.

  “Okay!” he shouted at Marcy and then drew her over to the car she’d pointed out.

  It was a small pickup truck with its door half-open, and the floorboard was under four inches of water. It was empty inside, and there was nothing on the seat or in the truck bed.

  “On to the next one,” Jake said, and nodded toward a vehicle that lay smashed on the sidewalk.

  It was one of those small, economy vehicles that weighed about half as much as a regular car. Judging from the crash marks on the building fifteen feet above them, the wind must have tossed the car against the building before it crashed to the pavement.

  The tires looked flat, and the left front side was sunken with a broken axle. The rain made it impossible to see inside, so Jake cupped his hand against the glass and looked. A man was slumped over in the driver’s seat, but Jake couldn’t tell if he was breathing. He grabbed the door handle and pulled, half-hoping it would be locked. It popped open easily. A faint, sickly sweet smell rolled out and was quickly absorbed by the rain.

  It was a middle-aged man wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. There was a smear of blood on the steering wheel and more on the driver’s side window. Matching wounds were evident on the man’s head where his hair was caked with blood.

  Jake turned to Marcy. “The wind and water must have shaken the car like a box of matches.”

  Marcy reached past Jake and shook the man’s shoulder. “Hey, mister. You alive?”

  “I don’t think he made it,” Jake said, stifling a gag. “The smell.”

  “I just wanted to be sure,” Marcy said as she withdrew her hand and shrugged.

  Jake shut the car door, and they moved on. A sense of deep misery returned to Jake’s thoughts, and his heart grew heavy. It was like what he’d felt after the tornado had taken a chunk out of the hotel and swept those helpless people to their deaths right before his eyes.