Jake had the nozzle in the car and was waiting for it to fill up, taking the opportunity to use the washer squeegee on the windshield.
While he was cleaning the bugs from the windshield, an old Ford Crown Victoria came down the road and slowed as it passed the station. This one was no longer in police service and appeared to have been sold at auction since the decals had all been scraped off. The windows were darkly tinted and it was missing a hubcap on the front passenger-side wheel. Jake took notice and watched the car go by. South Bay was not really the place to be at night. It was on the outskirts of Belle Glade and that is where things got really uncomfortable when the sun went down.
The girls came out of the store as if they wanted a shower and climbed back into the Mustang just as Jake closed the gas cap and hung up the hose.
“This place gives me the skeevies,” Mandy said. Jake rumbled the Mustang to life and rolled it out of the lot and onto a dark street with hardly any traffic. He headed toward Palm Beach on a short, dark stretch of road that connected to Belle Glade and stopped at one of those red lights that seem to turn red for no reason when the intersection was empty and take forever to switch to green. A car pulled up behind them and knocked the rear bumper enough to cause Jake to lose his mind that someone would scratch his car.
Jake looked in his rear view mirror instinctively and began cussing about someone needs an ass whoopin’.
“Oh, hell no they did not just hit my bumper!” He reached for the door handle and began to step out when Mandy called out to him.
“Jake, I don’t like this. Let’s just go.” He was already out and standing in the other car’s headlights. The two front doors opened and shadows stepped out. Jake found his anger again and called them out. One of the men made a demand.
“Start walking. Leave your car right there and there won’t be any trouble.”
Jake realized it was the Crown Vic that had passed him at the gas station just minutes before.
“Piss off,” Jake said, as he walked toward his rear bumper to inspect the damage.
“You better hope my car isn’t scratched or it’s your ass.” Jake was blinded and never saw the passenger move toward his passenger side in the dark. He headed back to the driver’s seat and reached for a club he kept under the seat.
“Get in the car Jake,” Mandy said forcefully. Amber was very uncomfortable in the back seat. Jake was not one to back down from a fight, especially when it came to his car. He took the club and moved toward the voice.
“OK, asshole. You asked for it.”
As he raised the club and approached the driver, a shot rang out, hitting him in the chest. His compression shirt did nothing to slow the bullet down and he stumbled backward. Jake’s surprise and adrenaline kept him on his feet and he doubled down and charged again at the driver. Two more shots from the dark and Jake folded up like a cheap suit. After the first shot, Mandy tried to slide over the console and take the wheel but her nervousness prevented her from having the required coordination. After the second shots, a dark-clothed man ran around the front of the Mustang from the passenger side and climbed in behind the wheel. He was just as surprised to see the girls as they were to see him. Mandy, now half between seats, made an effort to fight back but the man pushed her face-first into the passenger door and became tangled up in the deep bucket seat. Amber reached for her neck knife thinking this could be the time to use it, but with at least one more person outside who had a gun she decided to wait out of fear it could get them both killed. She slid down in the seat and worked on what to do. Frozen with fear, all rational thought went out the window and it never occurred to her to try and call 911.
The driver closed the door and sped off down the dark road with the other car following. Jake was still laying in the road, looking at the stars, trying to breathe, when a dirty eighteen-wheeler with tandem trailers full of sugar cane came barreling through the dark. The driver did not see the body on the road until it appeared in his dim headlights. The truck barely shook as it bumped and skidded on Jake’s body.
15
Chapter 15
Monday, January 8th (early evening)
Washington, D.C.
President William Jackson was sitting behind the Resolute Desk in the Oval Office. His aides were swarming around and the staff cosmetologist was dabbing on the last bit of foundation to his face to prevent his skin from shining in the bright LED panels. The teleprompter built into the camera before him flashed with the latest version of his speech to the American people. The speech had been changed five times in the last five hours due to changing conditions and conflicting information flowing into the situation room. He finally had to demand the speech be presented as-is. New information could be released later, as needed.
President Jackson had been in office for about a year on this cold January evening. His administration had been hampered with challenges to his authority since he won the election by complete surprise. The country was more divided now than since anyone could remember. Talk of civil war had recently been trotted out by the fringes and several states were seriously considering secession. Texas always boasted independence but now there was this CALEXIT thing and they seemed to actually be gaining ground. If California were to secede the entire national landscape would be permanently altered–both culturally and economically.
The South was up in arms over Confederate statues peacefully in place for a hundred years, North Korea was being a serious pain in the global ass, and China seemed on every side of every geopolitical argument. The only constant seemed to be Vladimir Putin. He was just as much a crap-stirrer as ever. It was as if he would do things just to watch the Americans embarrass themselves trying to figure out if he was a good guy or a really bad guy. Putin probably spent a lot of his days belly laughing at the American Congress over things they thought he did but could not really prove.
With everything this president was dealing with, the last thing he expected was an outbreak of disease that he would have to address. Maybe President Reagan was right when he made the speech about it taking something so universally dangerous to the people, like space aliens, to bring the world together for the benefit of mankind. Even in his mind he was paraphrasing, and hoping for the best at this point. All of the political operatives lived by the saying ‘never let good crisis go to waste,’ and they were always chasing the political angle. People hated it but that was how Washington works. This situation was no different.
From what his cabinet was saying, this influenza pandemic could be that alien force that might bring down the civilized world. He thought they were overreacting but prudence dictated he listen to the so-called experts.
The man with the headset next to the camera told the President to get ready, “30 seconds.”
Everyone cleared out of frame and he took a big sip of water from the clear glass on his desk. He made a joke to lighten the mood a little, “I thought this was supposed to be vodka, cancel the address.” The room chuckled. Headset man threw up three fingers for the President’s attention. 3…2…1 fingers dropped and he was live.
“My fellow Americans. I come to you this evening to brief you on a developing situation in our country and other parts of the world as well. As many of you are aware, this year’s seasonal influenza has been shadowed by another strain. Currently, our best understanding is that there are two different yet very similar flu strains moving through the population. The predicted strain that the annual vaccine was prepared to fight did not arrive and two others did, rendering the annual flu shot ineffective. Unfortunately, this does sometimes happen. The world of disease tracking is a very fluid science. Changes happen on nature’s whim and though our great scientists and the medical research community work to battle the smallest enemies man has ever faced, sometimes the bugs get a win.
“Currently, this virus has been identified in four South American countries and as of today it appears that cases in Europe have surfaced.
“This afternoon I signed several executive
orders handing control of certain sectors of business to government agencies that require assistance from you, our great citizens. Your expertise and dedication to keeping our nation safe is now needed. I ask that every one of you join me in this time so that we may come together to defeat this enemy. There have been three such occasions in the 20th century when a virus has threatened our economies, our families, and our very way of life. They did not succeed before and this time we expect to be no different.
“Times may be tough and we will all be asked to make sacrifices,” he paused for effect, “but I have every confidence in the American people. We will work openly with all nations that will partner with the United States, and we will share our research. We ask that the world come together and set aside our differences in the face of this global threat.
“I also believe we have another opportunity here, and that is to reduce hostilities around the globe. We honor the sacrifice our military has given and it is time to bring some of them home.
“Beginning as early as tomorrow the United States will cease all offensive actions in the Middle East and North Africa. Our troops will be brought home and our national efforts will be focused on fighting a different kind of battle, against an enemy so small it cannot be seen with the human eye. It is a wily enemy and it is not likely to surrender. We will need to defeat it with extreme prejudice.
“Once again, as so many times throughout our history, we are called upon to ride out and be the legions of the brave that this country has always been able to depend on.
“God Bless you and God Bless the United States of America.”
“…And we’re clear, Mr. President,” headset man said.
16
Chapter 16
Monday, January 8th (late evening)
Loxahatchee, Florida
“Well, that escalated quickly,” Cal said, referring to the idea to bring the troops home from the Middle East. “I wonder what they know that we don’t. That side of the world has been at war too long to just walk away for anything less than the collapse of our nation.”
“Maybe they were looking for a reason to let it go while saving face. It could be a political opportunity,” Charlotte offered.
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Cal said. “So apocalypse or politics?” Cal held his hands out like a scale weighing the answers. “Hard choice because they probably both lead to the same place in the end.”
“It sounds like we are going to need to store more snacks,” Charlotte said with mild sarcasm.
“Hey,” Cal said. “It’s a little after eight. Have you heard from Amber? Last I checked the GPS on her phone about an hour ago, she was near Belle Glade, which is only about 35 minutes from here.”
Charlotte looked at her cell phone for any information. “No, nothing for quite a while.”
They both pulled up the GPS app on their phones that indicated where each of the family members were. Well, at least where their phones were. Both of their phones showed Amber moving on a small street in Belle Glade that was not on the usual route to get home. Looking at each other in mild confusion, Cal dialed Amber’s number. Barely a ring passed and the phone connected but there was no reply. Cal heard muffled voices speaking incoherently but could not seem to make out the conversation. The tone of one person sounded like an angry male telling someone to be quiet and stop crying about something.
“Amber? Are you there? What’s going on?” There was no reply for a few seconds, then a whisper.
“Dad, we were carjacked and being taken somewhere.” Then a muffled sound and a pause.
“Amber!” Cal said in a loud whisper.
More muffling and then Cal heard her say, “Shhh, I’m in the back seat of Mandy’s boyfriend’s white Musta…”
“HEY! What are you doing back there! Who’s in the backseat!” The driver yelled at Mandy.
Amber had tucked the phone down when the screen lit up.
Cal had her on speakerphone and Charlotte was beginning to panic. Cal waved at her to shush so he could hear. He had to do something quickly, but what? “Amber, if you can hear me, I’m going to come for you. Hang up the phone and hide it. As long as you have your phone and a signal I can track you, ok? Save your battery. Don’t worry, I love you.” He heard a mumbled whisper and the connection dropped.
He looked at Charlotte with a mix of fear and anger. Trying to be the adult in the room, she put her hands up and said, “Hold on, let’s think this through. I’m going to call 911.” Charlotte quickly dialed on speakerphone and waited for a dispatcher to pick up.
“911 what is your emergency?”
“We think our daughter’s been carjacked, all we know is that…”
“You think? Lady listen, we’ve got real emergencies going on, so why don’t you call me when you’ve got an actual emergency.”
The line went dead and Charlotte stared at the phone in her hand, in sheer disbelief at the exchange that had just taken place.
“Let me look at where she is right now.” Cal opened the tracking app and saw Amber’s location moving through a neighborhood known to be a bad area and continuing toward some larger lots on the west side of the small town near the migrant farm housing.
“Ok, I see her, she is stopping at a property on Canal Street out by the old pump house,” Cal said as he walked away, dialing the phone.
“Rusty, wake up.”
“Hey old ma…” That was all Rusty could get out before Cal cut him off.
“I’ll be there in five minutes to pick you up. Bring your gear and something to shoot with. Amber has been carjacked and taken to a house in Belle Glade.” Cal hung up, leaving Rusty looking at the phone on his end.
Charlotte finally blurted out “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to get our daughter.”
Cal skidded to a stop in Rusty’s driveway minutes later, stopping only long enough for Rusty and Shane to climb in and try to get their doors closed in a hail of dust and gravel.
“I brought Shane along. We just got back from the range. What the hell is going on?”
“We looked at the GPS to check on Amber; she was on the way home from campus and apparently got jacked. I called her and she said she and her girlfriend were being taken somewhere. I told her I was coming and to keep her phone hidden and on so I could track her. The signal stopped at a property on Canal Street near the old pump house. She said they were in a white Mustang. We should be there in about 30 minutes. I’m taking the back way on the old sugar cane route, State Road 880 over the old iron bridge. Hang on, it’s going to get a little hairy.”
Rusty knew there was no point in protesting and Shane was always up for some freedoming, especially when violence was likely. The old cane road used to be the main route from Palm Beach to Lake Okeechobee or Lake “O,” as the locals called it. Since a new divided highway was built across the spongy black gold soil, old SR 880 was mostly unused. The many decades of farming and erosion had caused everything out this way to settle and erode. Houses all had their foundations exposed and most of the roads were more like roller coasters from settling; even buried utilities were appearing to surface as the soils disappeared from a combination of water and wind erosion. Out in the fields the horizon was nothing but sugar cane, corn, and rice paddies as far as the eye could see.
Cal’s truck seemed to barely connect with the road at this speed over the whoop-dee-doos in the road and it seemed a miracle they had not yet ended upside down in one of the drainage canals on the side of the road.
Tightly grasping the oh-shit handle over his seat, Rusty worked to form a coherent question. “Whaaaaat is your…” Bang! The truck hit a pothole, hard.
“Damn, did we lose a wheel on that one? What is your plan when we get there Rambo?” Cal seemed to realize he hadn’t thought that part through.
“Is this an us thing or did you bother calling the police?” Rusty added. Meanwhile, Shane’s eyes were trying to watch this verbal tennis match from the back seat.
�
��I figured we would think of something along the way. I’ll be damned if some shit bag is going to take my little girl.”
“OK, if I could hold my phone I would start a Google map recon and locate an observation position so we can get an idea of what we are looking at,” Rusty said.
“We’ll be on a flat road in a few minutes,” Cal said.
The stolen Mustang had turned on to a dark gravel driveway and rolled about 40 yards toward a relatively average home located on a lot of approximately 5 acres. The driver parked the car next to an old school bus that was used to carry workers to the fields. Hector, the driver, turned and looked at Mandy, then glanced in the back seat and made eye contact with Amber as if trying to figure out what to do with them. He and his partner had wanted the car and hadn’t bargained on two girls.
Raul stepped out of the Crown Vic and looked around as if he expected someone to be watching. It was dark aside from the single bare porch light and the glare from a street lamp a few hundred feet away. Comfortable, he glided over to the ‘Stang and made a cooing sound as he ran his hand from the trunk to the front door. “My oh my, look at this!” He said, ending his words with a whoop.
Wondering why Hector had not stepped out yet, Raul bent down and opened the driver’s door. His face seemed to have skidded to a stop when he saw not one, but two girls inside.
“Oh damn! What the hell is this right now! Why did you bring them here!”
Before Hector could answer, Raul let out a string of Spanish words that made very clear his displeasure of what just happened.
Hector worked to slip a word into Raul’s tirade. “Dude, you drilled that guy in the street, I was not about checking a passenger list. Why you always going off like that?”
Raul started to get that crazy look in his eye that happened right before shit went down. Hector realized it was time to defuse this.
The Unraveling: Book 1 of the Bound to Survive Series Page 15
