by Akart, Bobby
“Okay, what else?” asked the clerk.
Hayden rounded out the ammunition she needed for her hunting rifles and her AR-10. Although her weapons varied due to their specific uses, she tried to maintain common, interchangeable calibers.
She took her time, paid for all of her purchases, totaling almost fifteen hundred dollars, and walked out of the store feeling better prepared. The parking lot had filled to its maximum capacity now, and customers were making their way through the rows of cars looking for an available space. An older woman was trailing Hayden as she pushed the overloaded shopping cart to her Range Rover. She waved to the woman to let her know where her car was, and the driver waved back in appreciation.
As Hayden finished unloading, she noticed another car had arrived and was waiting for her space, continuously inching forward in an attempt to take the spot before the older woman. Hayden was about to walk toward the car to tell the male driver the space was already promised when she noticed there were two other males sitting in the backseat. It struck Hayden as odd that nobody was in the passenger seat, but it didn’t matter. She turned around and got in her own vehicle.
When she backed out, she deliberately backed into the direction of the male driver, effectively preventing him from taking the space. Then, once the old woman was parked, Hayden pulled out of the way of the man, who revealed his irritation with a honk of the horn and the display of his middle finger.
The gesture caused Hayden to laugh. “Another bully defeated,” she said aloud as she pulled forward again and idled directly behind the older woman’s car. Her instincts told her that the irate man might take out his anger on the woman who won the spot.
He whipped the wheel to the left and jetted past her, shooting her the bird a second time. Hayden had adopted an idiom many years ago when dealing with an unreasonable temper tantrum. Let them stew in their own madness. Engaging the person never ended well. Instead, she decided to let their anger ruin their own day, not hers.
The older lady exited her vehicle, waved to Hayden, and gave her a smile in appreciation. Hayden considered what she did to be a small gesture, a random act of kindness that the world needed more of. However, the encounter inside the store with the rude men, and now with the driver in the parking lot, was a reminder that emotions such as anger and resentment could fester into bigger problems. In fact, the unrest she’d observed in the news reports was testament to that.
Hayden stopped by the gun range and emptied her gun locker. If circumstances required her to leave for the Haven on short notice, she wouldn’t have the luxury of gallivanting around town. She planned on getting ready to leave.
She approached a highway overpass as she crossed from Maryland back into the District of Columbia. Three young men dressed in black had gathered around the bridge abutments and were spraying the pillars with black spray paint. They weren’t graffiti artists whom she’d seen work in the past. No, these men had an agenda.
They were each in various stages of completing the same image—a rose held in a man’s fist. Hayden thought for a moment and reached for her iPhone. She found the camera app and slowly approached the overpass. Without the artists’ noticing, she snapped a picture.
A single black rose held high in the air. It had to be symbolic of something, Hayden just didn’t know what.
Chapter Forty-Four
New Year’s Day
Capeville, Virginia
“Thirteen dollars a gallon? You’re joking, right?” Angela was incredulous. Tyler had pulled into the Lankford Truck Plaza on Virginia’s Eastern Shore, excited about the prospects of replenishing their near empty gasoline tank. The cans pilfered by the children had topped off the Bronco’s tank and left some to spare, gaining them an extra forty miles before stopping. With a fill-up, they could easily make it to their home in Richmond.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we simply pass on the cost of the fuel we get from our jobber,” the assistant manager explained. “Fuel is scarce all over, with most stations along the Eastern Seaboard closing up as a result. The only reason we have any to sell is because we’re the first station on this side of Chesapeake Bay. And, as the sign outside reads, we’re the last stop for fuel as well.”
Angela was still stewing when she noticed a line was forming behind her of angry travelers, likely frustrated by the exorbitant cost, but exasperated by Angela’s quibbling with the manager.
She rolled her eyes and reached into her pocket to provide the man her debit card. “We need to fill up on pump four.”
“Cash only. Credit card machines are down due to what happened in New York.”
“What?”
The man rudely rapped the palm of his hand on the counter. A piece of copy paper with the words CASH ONLY scribbled in ballpoint ink had been taped to the counter next to the advertisement for Marlboro cigarettes on sale.
Angela rooted around in her pocket and retrieved all of her crumpled-up cash. She flattened out the bills one at a time and spread the money out on the counter. “Give me ninety-four dollars’ worth on pump four.”
The man scooped up her cash, and without saying a word to acknowledge her purchase, he shoved the money in his pocket and looked to the next person in line.
Angela was about to leave and then decided against it. “Hey, I need a receipt for that. You know, for tax reasons.”
The assistant manager glared at her, retrieved the cash from his pocket, and promptly rung the transaction up on the register. He angrily tore the receipt off the machine, ripping it in two, and dropped it on the counter.
She scooped up the receipt and smiled as she walked out of the truck stop, knowing that she’d made the probable thief’s day a little less pleasant.
Tyler had already started pumping the gas when she returned to the truck. “Babe, we can only get ninety-four dollars’ worth of gas. The thirteen-a-gallon price was correct.”
“That’s nuts,” Tyler grumbled.
“Well, this place is full of thieves, so let’s forget about it. It’s probably karma, anyway.”
“Huh?”
“You know, for taking that man’s gas back there.”
Tyler finished pumping the gas and replaced the fuel nozzle. “Angela, please don’t be upset with the kids. They were just trying to help. And, as it turned out, it made a difference. We wouldn’t be standing here if they didn’t.”
“I get that, but at the same time, what’s next? What kind of risks will they take down the road in an effort to be helpful? They’re just kids.”
Tyler nodded and opened the door for his wife. She was getting settled in when he bent over and kissed her on the cheek. He whispered in her ear, “You’re right. I’ll talk with them about it when we get home. For now, we’ve got a hundred miles of smooth sailing to the house. Let’s regroup, get a good night’s rest, and then address all of this tomorrow. Cool?”
Angela reached up to touch Tyler’s face and kissed him back. “Cool.”
A few minutes later they approached the Eastern Shore Welcome Center, where a number of travelers were parked on the side of the road near the toll booth. Tyler slowed down before going through the lanes to pay.
“What do you think the deal is?” he asked.
Angela studied the travelers, who turned in their direction as they drove by. “They’re waving at us. Maybe their cars aren’t running.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” said Tyler. “I mean, how did they get here?”
Tyler slowly approached the four-lane toll booth marking the entry to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel. At nearly eighteen miles long, the bridge and tunnel combination was considered one of the engineering wonders of the world. Nicknamed Chessie, it stretched from Virginia’s Eastern Shore to the mainland near Virginia Beach.
The bridge provided scenic, breathtaking views of Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic Ocean. Along the route, the bridge dipped down below the water’s surface at the Thimble Shoal Channel tunnel and later at the Chesapeake Channel tunnel built between tw
o manmade islands. The tunnels allowed the shipping channels to remain open for oceangoing vessels traveling in and out of Chesapeake Bay.
As they sailed past the unmanned toll booth, the Rankins looked forward to yet another aspect of their adventure. This time, they would take in a spectacular sunset during their drive across the bridge.
When they emerged on the other side of Chessie’s Thimble Shoal tunnel, it would be dark. Very dark.
Chapter Forty-Five
New Year’s Day
Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel
Virginia
Tyler stopped the truck at the man-made island entering the Thimble Shoal tunnel in order to take in an incredible sunset. The family had been through an incomparable ordeal beginning with being stranded on Kingda Ka just eighteen hours ago, to almost losing J.C. in the process of getting rescued. Their drive home had been uneventful other than the issues surrounding gasoline. With the final leg of their journey coming up, Angela and Tyler looked forward to traveling through the familiar territory that was just ten miles ahead of them on Virginia’s mainland.
“Okay, who’s ready to go home?” asked Tyler, who, despite not having slept all night, was remarkably alert and in good spirits. Their children had slept plenty, and Angela had even managed a catnap here and there. Tyler was functioning on adrenaline and a sense of purpose, plus an occasional bottle of Angela’s Starbucks Cold Brew.
“We are!” Kaycee and J.C. responded in unison.
“I’ve got shotgun!” yelled Angela, and she broke in a sprint to return to the Bronco.
“I’m taking the wheel this time!” said J.C., who pushed off his sister to get a head start. He was almost on his mother’s heels when Kaycee caught him.
“No way, I’m almost sixteen. Let me drive!” shouted eleven-year-old Kaycee.
She and J.C. jockeyed for the lead as they raced each other to the truck. When they arrived, the two youngsters pulled and tugged at one another to open the driver’s door and slide behind the wheel.
Tyler, who thoroughly enjoyed the goofy kids he and Angela had raised, reached into his pocket to retrieve the keys. He held them high over his head with two fingers and dangled them just out of Kaycee’s reach. “Hey, goobers. Nobody’s going anywhere without these.”
“No fair, Dad!” she protested, drawing a laugh from Tyler.
“We’ll talk fairness when you turn sixteen and learn to ask daddy dearest for the keys then. How’s that?”
Kaycee pretended a pout and then raced around the truck to enter the seat behind her mother.
“Hey! That’s my side of the truck,” said J.C. “I want to watch the sunset some more.”
“We’re going in a tunnel, dork,” Kaycee shot back, teasing her younger brother.
Tyler shook his head and slid behind the wheel. He started the ignition and eased onto the road, which started its merge into two lanes. The tall concrete walls created a canyon effect that immediately blocked out the last remaining daylight and took them inside the cylindrical structure.
Rows upon rows of fluorescent lights lined both sides of U.S. 13 as the road took a noticeable drop below the surface of Chesapeake Bay. Angela studied the structure, periodically pointing out certain features to the kids. They’d traveled less than a mile when Tyler made an observation.
He leaned over and whispered to Angela, “Have you noticed we’re the only car in here. I mean, nothing has passed us coming out, and I don’t remember seeing anyone driving in while we were watching the sunset.”
His wife shrugged and looked forward and then to their rear, as if to confirm what he was saying. “Um, maybe people have stopped for the night. Plus, gas is scarce and unaffordable, right? Traffic did die down the farther south we traveled.”
Tyler seemed unconvinced. “Yeah, I guess.”
With no traffic to contend with, Tyler stepped on the gas and quickly emerged on the other side of the Thimble Shoal tunnel. The sun had completely dropped below the horizon, and darkness had spread across the bay. They drove across an artificial island as the road narrowed to two lanes just before they entered the slightly longer Chesapeake Bay tunnel.
“Hey, Dad, somebody didn’t pay the power bill for this tunnel,” said Kaycee jokingly.
The fluorescent lights were not working, nor were the periodic yellow caution lights that had flashed continuously in the first tunnel.
“Still no traffic, babe,” said Tyler. He took a long look in his rearview mirror, expecting to see headlights coming their way. Still nothing.
“Look out!” exclaimed Angela, causing Tyler to react by letting off the gas and slamming on the brakes.
The kids were thrown forward in their seats, and their stowed gear shifted around in the back. Tyler stopped just before running into the side of a pickup truck pulling a camper that had jackknifed, blocking both lanes.
“What’s the deal?” asked Tyler, who allowed the engine to idle with the headlights illuminating the crash scene.
“Now I see why no cars were coming out,” said Angela. “It would have been nice if they’d warned us back there about the accident.”
“Maybe they tried,” began Tyler. “Those people were trying to wave us down, remember?”
“Yeah, but they weren’t cops or DOT workers,” replied Angela. She began looking around the tunnel. “It’s so narrow. Do you even have room to turn around?”
Before Tyler responded, he saw movement under the camper. “There! Did you see that? It looked like somebody was under the camper, waving their arm.”
“They may be hurt,” said Angela, her medically trained instincts kicking in.
Like most doctors, Angela was well-versed in the types of actions that could get her into legal trouble, especially malpractice matters. In order for a doctor to be liable for rendering medical treatment while off duty, they must owe a duty to the patient, such as a prior doctor-patient relationship. In most U.S. jurisdictions, a doctor has no affirmative duty to provide medical assistance to an injured stranger.
Angela, like most physicians, would never walk away from someone with a traumatic injury if she thought their life was in jeopardy.
She unbuckled her seat belt and reached for the door handle. “Let me check it out.”
“No,” said Tyler sternly. “You stay here with the kids. I’ll be right back.”
Before she could protest, Tyler jumped out of the Bronco and jogged to the jackknifed rig in front of them. He glanced inside the front seat and found it empty. He dropped to the ground and looked under the camper for the arm that he was certain had waved at him.
Nothing.
The whole situation bothered Tyler. Where were the emergency responders? Was Virginia Beach in the middle of something that prevented assistance from coming into the tunnel?
His mind raced as he stood and walked over the tongue of the camper’s trailer to hop to the other side. That was when he found the source of the movement.
Chapter Forty-Six
New Year’s Day
Chesapeake Bay Bridge-Tunnel
Virginia
Seven people were bound and gagged, tied together with electrical wiring and heavy-duty extension cords. Tyler stood in shock as he tried to see in the dim light provided by the Bronco’s headlamps reflecting off the beige tiles lining the tunnel’s walls.
He carefully approached a woman who’d fallen over near the bottom of the camper. It was her wiggling around that had caught Tyler’s attention as he drove up on the jackknifed rig. He reached down to set her upright when her eyes grew wide. She grunted, trying to speak through the bandana that had been tied through her mouth and around the back of her head.
“Hold on, let me remove the—”
Tyler never finished the sentence as he was knocked across the back of his head with a two-by-four. The blow stunned him but didn’t knock him out. He rolled across the concrete pavement and landed against the tile wall near a storm drain.
He tried to get on all fours and pick himself up,
but the attacker was on him, kicking him in the side, knocking him down again.
“Don’t get up,” a man snarled at him in the dark. The man turned and spoke to another man. “Tie him up like the others. Check his pockets.”
Tyler was still coherent, although his head was throbbing. The blow had caught him behind the right ear and just below the crown of his head. His head immediately began to swell, but his bigger issue at the moment was his inability to breathe due to the kicks in the ribs and stomach. The lack of oxygen and the still air in the tunnel prevented him from defending himself and shouting to Angela.
As the other attacker manhandled him onto his stomach and brusquely pulled Tyler’s hands behind his back, he could make out his initial attacker speaking with a third person, a female.
“All right, it’s the same as before. This time don’t let them drive away.”
“I won’t,” the woman replied. “We’ve got one of theirs. They ain’t gonna just leave him behind.”
“Either way, we’ve been workin’ this deal for too long. We’re lucky the po-pos ain’t showed up.”
Tyler could hear the woman kissing her partner, the ringleader of this trio of thugs. He was in pain but was fully aware of what was happening.
The three were opportunists, common criminals taking advantage of this car wreck in the tunnel. There was only one way out, and that was back toward Virginia Beach. He was still astonished that law enforcement hadn’t arrived on the scene yet, but from the looks of the bodies piling up around him, perhaps nobody was able to reach out for help, or cell service was unavailable inside the tunnel.
Tyler stayed on the ground and pretended to be incapacitated as the other man rifled through his pockets. He took Tyler’s license and credit card, together with the fifty dollars in cash out of his left pocket. He tossed aside the license before shoving the cash and credit card in his pocket.
