While watching him, the navy-colored TKM twin-engine private jet screamed by on the wide lane between the hangars.
“There goes our friend,” she said to Asher matter-of-factly.
“I’m sure he knows something we don’t,” he replied. “Maybe we should take his hasty exit as our own guide. Like, now is the time to beat feet and take to the skies.”
Grace considered it. “He said he was going back to Yellowstone.”
“I’d rather not go in that direction,” he laughed.
She thought about it. “Why do you think he’s going there?”
“Eco-tourism?” he snarked.
They both looked at each other and cracked up laughing.
Logan finally moved from the cargo area to the middle row of seats. “What’s so funny? Did you know the people on that plane? Are we going on a jet?”
Her laughter died down. “We’ve been on the road a long time. I thought I’d seen and heard everything, but I’m finding out there’s much more weirdness than I ever imagined. The guy on the plane wants to kill us, but he also saved our lives.”
“Twice,” Asher inserted.
“Twice,” she agreed. “And now we’ve become responsible for you in a dying city, and we don’t have the slightest clue what to do.”
He snapped to attention. “Whoa! You can let me out here. I’ve always wanted to see the airport. I’ll call my mom and she’ll come get me, so you don’t have to worry.” Logan slid over to where the passenger door used to be. “I can go right now.”
“Hey!” she protested. “Wait. We’re not sure what we’re going to do, but kicking you out definitely isn’t one of them.” She stared at the boy for ten or twenty seconds, to ensure he knew she was serious.
“Okay. Whatever. I guess I’ll hang with you two until you catch your ride.”
Grace shook her head, unsure how to explain they hadn’t made up their minds about taking the plane out of town. Her eyes returned to Asher, though he was already watching her.
“What?” she asked in a low voice.
“You’re a great ranger. I know we’re not in your park, but you take care of people like the whole world is part of Yellowstone. I’m glad I ended up with you.”
They hadn’t talked about their brief kiss during the high-stress descent down Beartooth Pass, or the one at the roadblock, but their moments of intimacy came rushing to the forefront of her mind as she met his brown eyes. Distantly, she wondered if her attraction to him had more to do with stress than anything else, but it didn’t matter. The lightning strike of desire came back with a thunderous jolt down her spine. Asher seemed to share her renewed interest, and may have been leaning over the center console.
“Do you two have the hots for each other?” Logan asked dryly.
The moment popped like a balloon.
“What?” she shot back, shifting away from Asher. “No. Why would you say that?”
Asher retreated over to his seat, too.
Logan giggled. “Well, you’re looking at each other with googly eyes. I see it a hundred times a day in my high school. Sometimes it’s gross, but you two make it work.” His voice became husky. “You’re like two hot cops getting ready to arrest each other.”
“Ugg,” she replied, sure the moment was ruined beyond hope. However, when she glanced over at Asher, she took note of his red cheeks and guarded smile. Was he enjoying her discomfort or was he smiling because Logan spoke the truth? Were they two cops with the hots for each other?
She laughed it off until motion caught her eye in the hangar. The BLM plane began to move. The steps had been pulled up. Its engine thrust resonated in the enclosed space.
“Oh, crap! Look out!” She’d parked in front of the hangar so as to stay out of the roadway where the planes traveled. She started the engine, intending to move, but the plane didn’t give her a chance. The nose of the jet wedged against the roof of the truck’s rear cargo area, causing the metal to bend.
“What’s she doing?” Grace shrieked.
Logan scrambled out of the truck.
The Bureau of Land Management plane added thrust, which created a hurricane inside the small hangar. The pilot seemed to dial one engine down and punch the other in the gut. The screaming turbine made the opposite side of the plane roll backward. When the pilot switched thrusters, the other side of the plane reversed while the first side stayed frozen.
“It’s backing up,” she said, figuring out the complicated dance being executed by the pilot.
Finally, having about three feet of clearance from her truck, the pilot set both engines to an insane pitch, which came across as a threat to run through her if necessary.
“Fine,” she declared, not wanting even more creases in the metal of the beat-up Chevy. Grace hit the gas and moved over to the edge of the door.
Immediately, the plane released its brakes and shot outside the hangar.
She jumped out, flashing the bird at the pilot, as she might do in a road rage situation. “What the hell!” she yelled, getting no satisfaction. She couldn’t even see the cockpit from where she stood.
Asher met her at the back bumper. “She was never going to take us anywhere, was she?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Why would she even suggest it if she wasn’t going to take us?” None of it made any sense. They’d done their part and gotten Felicia to the airport. It wouldn’t have cost her anything but time to let them board. Not that she was sure they would have done so, but it would have been nice to have the option.
Logan strode up from wherever he’d ducked to avoid the moving passenger jet. “You guys want to go with me to the airport terminal? We can watch your friends take off.” He spoke like it was barely worth notice they’d been left behind.
She realized Asher’s hand was in hers. Despite his comforting grip, she separated herself to address the boy.
“I’m not sure what just happened, but I’m positive of what we’re going to do next. We’re taking you home to your family. No hangars. No terminals. No malls.”
Logan rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, that’s not going to be easy. I kind of lied earlier about where I lived. I’m not even from Billings.”
Grace sighed heavily. “This day keeps getting better and better.”
Near Grand Tower, IL
After their delay hitting the underwater object, most of the pirate fleet was within shooting range. There were three speedboats about a hundred yards back, and two pontoons trailing a couple hundred yards more behind those. Ezra refused to let off the gas, even in the last few seconds before reaching the capsized container barge.
“We’re going right there!” Ezra pointed to the lower part of the hull on their left. The whole ship was canted in their direction, providing a natural ramp. Even though the hauler was two hundred feet long, it was only about thirty-five feet across. Still too wide to slide up and over like a ski jump, Fonzie style, but he tried to aim low, thinking he could get around the debris blocking the way, rather than catch some air.
“E-Z, there’s no ‘there’ there!”
“Hold on!” he replied, sure they were going to end up in a fiery wreck, but slightly comforted that if he failed to go where he aimed there would be nothing for the pirates to salvage.
He closed the distance to the barge, looking for any advantage he could use. The underside was slick with mud, probably due to how it had been stuck on the sandbar after being tossed upside down. The flat surface of the bottom wasn’t broken up by fins, or motors, or any other embellishments common on the hulls of ships. It was simply designed to carry heavy freight in its rectangular frame. That lucky break ensured his boat wouldn’t get caught on anything during his desperate stunt.
“I’m going for it!” he yelled at the last second, bolstering his faltering confidence.
He kept the engine revving hard but adjusted the trim on the fly, so the blades came out of the water at the same moment the front of the pontoons ran up on the barge’s hull. He lost a li
ttle speed as the blades neared the surface, but the machine still had enough momentum to continue forward. He lurched with the impact when metal struck metal and used the steering wheel to steady himself.
The pontoons screeched wildly as they slid across the slick surface. There was lots of wet mud, but it wasn’t quite the lubricant he imagined. The pontoons only slid about twenty feet before the boat came to an abrupt stop.
Ezra shut off the motor. “We didn’t go as far as I’d hoped.” The flipped barge was positioned so he was able to drive up on its underside, but it canted more than he thought, so the edge closest to the river was higher than it looked. The steeper incline was hard to see while on the move, but it was distinct once he was on it.
“Get out!” Butch shouted. “Grab your rifle.”
The chase boats had neared. Multiple men brandished their rifles. The guy in the red speedboat took aim and a ricochet clanged off the exposed aluminum pontoon tube.
When he rolled off the edge, he immediately slipped on the mud. Butch made a similar misstep with his boots before steadying himself next to the deck. He didn’t make any funny comments as he enjoyed doing most of the time. Instead, he pointed toward the pirates and quickly aimed. “We have to shoot them.”
The loud report of Butch’s gun bashed his skull. Ezra lifted his rifle and laid it on the edge of the deck to line up his shot. It dawned on him how Butch had given them a new advantage. He caught his breath in order to steady his aim. Then, he sent a round toward the jerk at the front of the red boat.
“Yes!” he cried out. The man fell backward, presumably a result of being struck.
Butch re-oriented. “I’ll take the yellow boat. You get the gold one.”
Ezra did as the veteran soldier advised. He aimed at the big gold boat, which looked expensive. Unlike the smaller red one, it had lots of overhead racks and light bars, which were designed for holding skis and pulling skiers. As the boat powered down with a sharp turn, it exposed two men holding AK-47 rifles with their distinctive banana magazines. He thought they looked like they’d fit in with pirates along the coast of Somalia, not southern Illinois.
“Got ya,” he said quietly.
The two men tried to level their rifles in his direction, and they even got a few shots off, but their boat bounced during deceleration, throwing off their aim. By contrast, he and Butch were planted on firm ground. He was able to aim each shot with his simple 4X scope, as he’d often practiced at the gun range back in Fairdealing.
Ezra knocked down one of the men instantly. It took him a few shots to connect with the second guy since the man kept himself low in the boat. However, he clipped the pirate in the shoulder when he popped back up. Finally, he put a few rounds in the skipper of the golden speedboat, who was unable to steer in the crowded area without raising his head. The boat continued without its driver, crashing through some trees at the edge of the channel and then running ashore in a muddy field.
The pirate pontoon boats were able to halt before getting too close. They veered off and took refuge behind a tangle of floating driftwood, a white shipping container, and a half-shingled roof. The pair of boats each had five or six men on them. Like Susan’s Grace, those two were designed for carrying people.
Butch had nailed the driver of the yellow watercraft; it now spun in a tight circle in the middle of the channel with no one at the helm. If there were other men inside, they were smart enough to not stick their heads up.
“Don’t let him get away,” Ezra ordered, pointing to the red speedboat. It was the only one that managed to find a path back toward safety. He was sure the tenacious driver was going to position the red boat in order to shoot them from a distance.
He and Butch both let loose a barrage of rounds, but he ran out of ammo before he was certain of a hit. Butch also stopped shooting at almost the same time. “We need a reload,” his partner said as he hopped back into the boat, searching for the backpack full of ammo.
Ezra scanned the oxbow bend for the guys on the pontoon boats. They were out there, almost certainly working to get in position to shoot back at them. “We’re outnumbered. Outgunned. And I’ve made it so we can’t use the boat anymore.” He looked toward shore. If they could get up the slippery hull, it would be easy to jump to the muddy bank and head out into the Illinois countryside. Assuming they could dodge the shooters…
A round zipped off the barge’s hull, creating a ricochet sound identical to one he’d heard in the movies.
“Come on, E-Z, we’re not done yet. We’ve got the high ground.” Butch jumped over the edge again, once more slipping on the muddy metal surface. The ammo backpack was in his hand. “Let’s fill our mags for round two.”
He smiled, glad to have a professional guiding him. Ezra fancied himself a master behind the wheel of the boat, but he’d never raised his gun at other human beings. It left him unsettled and confused about whether he should be happy or sad he’d shot the men.
Butch seemed to suffer no such doubt. “We’re going to make them pay for trying to steal your sweet ride.”
CHAPTER 12
Billings, MT
“If you aren’t from Billings, then where are you from?” Grace asked, trying to stay calm.
Logan spoke like he knew he’d caused a problem. “Well, when you found me at the mall, I’d been there for a couple of days. Me and Noah came in on a rez bus, but after the power went off the bus never came back. We waited at the mall as long as we could, but stores kept closing and people kept coming in. Soon it was all yelling and chaos. That’s when stuff started flying…”
Asher replied. “So you decided to steal video games?”
Logan shrugged. “I didn’t really think it through.”
Grace struggled to wrap her mind around the irresponsible actions of the kid. “Wait a second. If you aren’t from here, where were you taking those games? Why did you leave the mall?”
Logan somehow shrugged more emphatically than before. “I told you, we didn’t think it through. The stupid part is neither of us have game consoles.”
“You couldn’t even play them?” Asher sounded like he wanted to strangle someone.
She was on the verge of panic. The departure of the planes created a sense of urgency, and the distant rattle and popping wasn’t Fourth of July fireworks—it was gunfire. She made a huge effort to steady her breathing before asking her next question. “What’s a rez bus? Where the heck did you come from?”
He thumbed behind him, to the outside. “I’m from the Crow reservation. They give us bus rides to the local cities and towns so we can work and shop. My mom sent me to the city to pick up some stuff for her at the mall.” He stomped his foot. “Oh, man! I forgot I was going to get some supplies for her.”
Grace chuckled at how scatterbrained Logan had become. It wasn’t that long ago she herself was all over the place like him, though she never would have picked up random stuff in a shopping center. “We’re not going back to the mall, so don’t even think about it. Okay, so if you took a bus into town, we’ll drive you back out to the reservation. Is it close by? Can you get us there?”
“The bus ride took about an hour. We drove on the interstate almost the whole time. But…”
“What?” she pressed.
“I don’t know the way.”
She shook her head in disappointment. “How can you not know where you live?”
“The bus driver knew.” Logan ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated. “Why did I have to know?”
Grace controlled her emotions to hide the exasperation welling inside. “If we got you to the highway, do you think you would recognize anything?” They’d gone over the interstate twice since Logan was in the truck. Logically, he might only need to point out which direction to go, and they could get on the correct path.
Logan switched back to being serious. “Yeah, probably. Do you think we could find Noah? Maybe he wasn’t hurt too bad.”
It was one bridge too far for Grace; she let slip some of
her frustration. “You said they hit him with a baseball bat. Was that a lie, too?”
“No, it’s true! I don’t know if he was dead, though. I thought he was.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied. “We can’t go back to the mall only to see if your friend is dead. It would put us all in danger. My priority right now is getting you home.” She turned to Asher and conveyed her inner feelings with her eyes: “And out of our hair!”
Logan turned reflective. “Yeah, I guess it makes sense. If Noah is still alive, he’ll make his way home, too. We talked about hitchhiking back. Since I already have a ride, I guess I should return home, to be there when he arrives.”
Grace wondered if he knew his friend was dead but couldn’t face up to that horrible truth. If he went home, he’d be forced to explain all his bad decisions to his parents, and the parents of his buddy. However, even if she wanted to risk driving through the city again, it made no sense to do it based on the confused memory of a frightened teen.
“Come on, we’re getting out of here,” she insisted.
They all piled back into the Suburban. She ignored the new dent put in it by the airplane pilot, as well as the additional holes in the windshield. An irrational comparison popped in her head. Much like Logan would have to explain himself to his parents, she would eventually have to explain herself to some superior at the National Park Service. She’d need to start a list to describe where every blemish came from, though who would believe she got struck by an airplane?
Grace drove them out of hangar row and back toward the cliff along the edge of Billings. Instead of going down the hill to the police roadblock, she continued east. From their elevated position, it was easy to see an alternate road angling down into a different part of town, crossing a river, and linking up with the interstate.
Along the way, many cars sped by in the other direction, perhaps to catch those last few planes out of the city. She didn’t go any faster than the speed limit, though she desperately wanted to get away from all the crazy people. Asher spent his time working on his watch, but after several minutes of silence, she had to speak.
Impact (Book 3): Adrift Page 9
