Something banged in the kitchen.
“Mom?”
Martina stepped off the last tread of the staircase onto the cold tile floor and walked to the back of the house.
Her mother was near the kitchen sink. On the counter in front of her were boxes and packages of food. It looked to Martina like everything from inside the cabinets had been pulled down. Her mother was going through it all, sorting them into groups.
“Mom, what’s going on?”
Her mother jerked around with a start. “Oh, Martina. I didn’t hear you come down.” She attempted to give her daughter a smile, but quickly gave up. Her eyes strayed down to Martina’s feet. “Where are your shoes?”
“Where I left them when I took them off last night,” Martina said, as if it should have been obvious.
“Well, hurry and put them on.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“Just do it!” her mother said sharply.
Martina took a step back, surprised by the intensity of her mother’s tone. “Okay. No problem.”
Her mother closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. Please, just…put them on, okay?”
“Sure. I’m putting them on.”
Martina retrieved her shoes from the entryway, slipped her feet inside, and laced them up. From a peg by the door, she grabbed her zip-up hoodie and headed outside.
Her dad and brother were still at the back of the car. They had lowered the hood of the trunk, but it looked like there was too much inside for it to close all the way.
“Donny, grab me some rope,” her father said.
Her brother ran into the garage.
“Dad, would you please tell me what’s going on?” Martina said.
Her father glanced over. “Good, you’re dressed. There are some water jugs in the garage. Can you put them in the backseat for me?”
“Dad!”
He looked at her again, and finally seemed to register her earlier question. “Did you see the TV?”
“The TV?” She shook her head. “It was off.”
He stepped over to her and put his hands on her arms. “I don’t want you to panic.”
“You mean like you guys already seem to be doing?”
“The shipping containers they’ve been finding all over the place? The rumor is it’s some kind of biological attack.”
“What?” She pulled away from him, her mind assaulted by memories of the outbreak that had almost killed her. That, too, had been a biological attack.
“I said, don’t panic.”
“What is it? Who did it? Do they even know for sure?” The questions jumped out rapid fire.
“The government’s not saying anything yet, but that doesn’t matter right now. What we need to focus on is getting out of here.”
She grew still. “Getting out of here? Did they find one in town?”
“No,” he said quickly. “But they’re all over Los Angeles, and some in Bakersfield and Las Vegas.”
They were surrounded.
“I don’t want to be here when someone who’s been infected shows up,” he explained.
“But where are we going?”
“The Fullers’ cabin. They went back east for the holidays, so no one’s there.”
The Fullers’ cabin was in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, not that far away. Martina and her family had borrowed the place for a week just that past summer.
He looked her in the eye. “I really need your help. Are you going to be okay?”
The person she’d been before the previous spring would have probably argued with him, saying he was overreacting, and that they should just wait and it would probably turn out to be nothing. But coming so close to death changed all that.
“I’ll get the water,” she said.
“Thanks, sweetie.”
THEY TOOK THE back way to the cabin, using one of the winding roads that went up through a steep valley on the desert side of the mountains. When they’d taken the same road in the past, it had always been sparsely traveled. This time, there were dozens of vehicles, all heading up.
“Looks like other people were thinking the same thing,” Martina said.
Her father barely nodded in acknowledgment. He had a tight grip on the wheel, and his mood had darkened every time he glanced at the cars behind them. She knew he’d been hoping they’d be alone.
At the top of the canyon, the road crested over a pass into a high plain, where the desert gave way to the thin fringes of a forest that thickened with every passing mile. Here and there were small patches of snow, a few inches deep at best. That might change soon, Martina thought. The clouds that had been hanging high above their desert valley were much lower here, and were dark and heavy with moisture.
“You brought the tire chains, right?” she asked.
“Of course we did,” Donny said. “They’re in the back. What do you think? That we’re stupid?”
He was fourteen and in that wonderful phase that made Martina want to be nowhere near him pretty much all the time. Still, she held back the response that wanted to jump from her lips. It wouldn’t serve any purpose, and he was just being a kid anyway. The restraint was a grown-up move on her part, one she would have patted herself on the back for if she wasn’t so scared.
“Maybe we should try the radio again,” her mother suggested. She reached over and flipped the radio back on.
The narrow valley they had driven up from the desert had blocked the signal to their satellite radio, so they had kept it off. On again, it tried hard to reestablish a signal, but there were just too many trees and mountain peaks getting in the way.
“We’ll check again at the cabin,” her mother announced, turning it off again. “I’m sure it will work there.”
In a way, Martina was happy they weren’t able to pick up anything. When they’d listened to the news before they lost reception, there had really been nothing new, just the same reports and speculation over and over again. It had started to drive her crazy.
The old highway through the forest had several intersecting roads branching off from it. Here and there cars would turn off, heading to whatever destination they had in mind. When the Gables finally reached the turnoff for the Fullers’ cabin, there were only two other cars left behind them.
Though the new road was unpaved and bumpy, Martina’s father seemed less tense.
The change didn’t last long. A few minutes later, his disposition reverted back to what it had been at the beginning of their trip. They were skirting the edge of a large meadow that allowed them to see a good portion of the road behind them. There, about a quarter-mile back, was one of the cars that had been on the main road.
“Relax, Ken,” Martina’s mother said to her husband. “There are a lot of places out this way.”
He grunted, but said nothing.
A few seconds later Donny said, “Isn’t that the Webers’ car?”
Martina looked back at the other vehicle. It did kind of look like the Webers’ car, but there were probably about a thousand other models they could have said that about.
Mr. Weber worked in the same building as Martina’s dad. He and his wife had three kids, a set of twins who were high school seniors this year, and a younger girl who was either a sophomore or freshman. The Webers were part of the same bridge club her parents were in, and the families had occasionally done things together in the past.
The meadow fell away as they reentered the woods, and the car—the Webers’ or not—disappeared with it. As soon as it was out of sight, Martina’s father increased their speed.
Her mother grabbed the dash. “Ken, please. You’re going to get into an accident.”
The car vibrated as it bounced over the road, but Martina’s father didn’t slow down.
“Ken!”
As the road bent to the left, the back end of the car fishtailed for a second before it came back under control.
“For God’s sake! We’re not going to have to worry about whatever’s happening every
where else. You’re going to kill us!”
He leaned forward, his chin nearly touching the wheel as he gripped it more tightly.
“Ken!”
After a couple seconds, he let out a breath and settled back against the seat, slowing the car.
Martina’s mother looked at him, her eyes wide. It appeared as if she was going to yell at him, but, like Martina had done earlier with her brother, her mother held her tongue and turned back to watch the road.
They almost missed the turnoff to the Fullers’ place. It was Donny who pointed just in time at the tree with the missing branch that marked the road. Martina’s father slammed on the brakes, kicking up a small dust cloud, and made the turn.
The dirt road was really just a long driveway that led across a portion of the twenty acres the Fullers owned. The rains from the previous spring had created a wash down the middle that had unevenly eroded the dirt surface. Martina’s father had to slow the car down to a crawl several times, and even then couldn’t avoid scraping the undercarriage.
The cabin was tucked within the trees, so it appeared almost out of nowhere after a leisurely curve to the left. There were no lights on inside, and no other cars parked out front.
As soon as they pulled to a stop near the front door, Martina’s father said, “Let’s get everything inside right away,” and climbed out.
Donny jumped out after him, and Martina reached for her door handle to do the same, but then she realized her mother hadn’t moved.
A sniffle. Low, as if it wasn’t supposed to be heard.
“Mom?” Martina said.
Her mother shook her head. “Go help your father,” she said quickly.
Martina leaned forward between the seats. “Mom, are you all right?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Martina knew that wasn’t true. Her mother’s eyes were wet, and a few tears had already traveled down her cheeks. Martina put her arms around her, hugging her as best she could with the seat between them. “It’s going to be okay, Mom. We’re safe here.”
“I know…it’s just…it’s not a great day for any of us, I guess.”
“Yeah, I’ve had better.”
“Me, too,” her mother said.
They looked at each other, then Martina grinned, and they both laughed softly.
“I’m fine, I swear,” her mother said. “Come on. We should help.”
Martina gave her one more squeeze, and they both got out.
The lid of the trunk was open, so Martina couldn’t see her dad or brother. As she walked to the back, she realized the lid hid one more thing.
Stopped at the spot where the driveway widened into the area in front of the cabin was the car that had been following them. Now that it was this close, she could see her brother had been right. It was the Webers’ car.
Mr. Weber was behind the wheel, his wife in the front passenger seat, and their three daughters in back. Martina knew the twins. She liked Riley but wasn’t fond of Laurie. For twins, they were nothing alike. She didn’t know the youngest girl, Pamela, very well.
Martina’s father was staring at the other car. In his hands was a rifle. She knew he had a few guns he’d inherited from his brother who’d passed away a few years before, but it had never crossed her mind that he’d bring them along. It was logical, she guessed, but surprising.
“Ken, what are you doing?” her mother said as she came around from the other side of the car.
“You and the kids, get in the house,” he said.
“Put that down. You’re going to hurt someone.”
“If I have to, I will.”
“You’re talking crazy, Ken. That’s the Webers. They’re our friends.”
Just then, the door on the other car opened, and Mr. Weber climbed out. He held up his hands to show he had nothing in them. “Hey, no need for a gun,” he called out. “Just looking for a place to hide out, like you.”
“This place is taken,” Martina’s father said.
“This is the Fullers’ place, isn’t it? I’ve heard them talking about it.”
“Get back in your car, Mark. Find someplace else.”
“Be reasonable. It’s just me and my family. We’re scared like you. Wouldn’t it be better if we worked together? Make things easier.”
“There’s not enough to take care of both us and you.”
“You mean food? That’s not a problem. I’ve got a whole car full of food. We just need a roof to sleep under. Someplace where we can stay warm.”
“It’s a small place. There’s not enough—”
“Just the floor. We can sleep there. Come on, you don’t want to do this.”
“He’s right,” Martina’s mother whispered. “This isn’t the type of people we are. And if they’ve brought food, that will help us, too.” She touched her husband’s shoulder. “There’s enough room inside for all of us.”
“You followed us up,” Martina’s dad said to Mr. Weber.
“Not on purpose,” Mr. Weber said. “At least not until we reached the mountain pass and I realized you guys were ahead of us. I just thought it would be good to stick with friends.”
“Ken, just let them join us,” Martina’s mom said. “You’re not going to shoot them, for God’s sake. They’ll freeze out here if they don’t find shelter.”
Martina’s father remained rigid for several more seconds, then his shoulders sagged. He lowered the rifle so that the barrel was pointing at the ground. “All right. You can stay. But if anyone else comes, we turn them away.”
“Sure,” Mr. Weber said. “Sure, of course.”
He brought his car over and together the families started unloading the two vehicles. They were only halfway done when the snow started to fall, so they rushed to get the rest inside.
“For a minute there, I was afraid your dad would shoot us,” Riley Weber said to Martina as the two of them made hot chocolate for everyone later.
“He was just trying to protect us, that’s all.”
“Yeah, I know. Still, it was kind of freaky.”
“Sorry,” Martina said.
Riley shrugged. “It’s okay. Dad’s been pretty crazy himself. When they started reporting about the shipping containers yesterday, he called my mom and told her she needed to get home right away.”
Martina looked at the other girl. “Where was she?”
“Christmas shopping. Down in L.A.”
Martina felt a chill run down her arms.
“Hey, don’t worry,” Riley said. “I know what you’re thinking, but it’s okay. There weren’t any of those things anywhere near where she was.”
“How do you know?”
“She didn’t see any and there weren’t any reports of them on the news. Look.” Riley glanced over at her mother in the living room. “She’s fine.”
Martina followed her gaze. Mrs. Weber did, indeed, look fine. If she’d been exposed, it had happened almost a day before, and surely she would have shown signs of something by now. Still, shouldn’t Martina say something to her parents, just in case?
She decided to tell her mom; she’d know what to do. Her dad would just panic.
“I think it’s ready,” Riley said.
Together, the girls poured the hot chocolate into mugs and carried them out.
As soon as she found a moment, Martina took her mother aside and told her what Riley had said. Her mother was concerned, but not overly worried.
“Should we tell Dad?” Martina asked.
Her mom patted her on the arm and smiled. “He’s under a lot of stress right now. Best I’ll have a little talk with Mrs. Weber. For now, we’ll just keep this to ourselves.”
In that, Martina’s mother was right.
Twenty-Two
PCN BROADCAST
1:10 PM EASTERN STANDARD TIME
“WE’RE SWITCHING NOW to our Pentagon correspondent, Brian Keeter.”
The image of the anchor, Carl Morgan, cut to a split screen, with Morgan on the left, and Brian Keeter on the r
ight, standing in front of a wooden paneled wall that had several flagpoles in front of it.
“Brian,” Morgan said. “What’s the latest from there?”
“Carl, while spokesmen here are not saying anything official at the moment, sources have told us that scientists working at the US Army Medical Research Institute have been able to confirm that the substance being released by the shipping containers is consistent across all the locations they’ve been able to test.”
“Biological?” Morgan asked.
“Again, nothing on the record, but yes, Carl. My sources say the institute has been able to precisely identify the biolo—”
The screen with Keeter’s image suddenly went black. Morgan looked momentarily confused, but quickly regained his composure.
“Apparently we’re having some signal problems with the feed from the Pentagon. We’ll go back to Brian Keeter as soon as we’re able to reestablish the link. In the meantime, we’ve received word that the planned test destruction of one of the boxes has been delayed. No reason has been given, but our experts speculate…”
THE MEDIA REHASH CENTRAL BLOG
NEW POST
1:16 PM EASTERN STANDARD TIME
NOT SURE HOW many of you were watching PCN a few minutes ago, but something I would classify as odd just occurred. Resident PCN talking head Carl Morgan was having a discussion with field reporter Brian Keeter when Keeter’s feed was suddenly cut off (Keeter was the reporter who broke the Martin Hills bribery story back in August).
I don’t know about you, but it sure sounded like he was about to reveal what these shipping containers are spitting out on everyone. He was able to at least report that it is biological, not that that’s a big stretch. We’ve all been presuming that. Still, I think it’s the first time anyone has said it as definitively as he did. Well, other than the woman purporting to be Tamara Costello in the viral YouTube video.
Morgan played it off like it was a satellite issue. I call bullshit. I think Keeter’s feed was cut at the source.
Oh, did I mention? He was broadcasting from the PENTAGON!
The Project Eden Thrillers Box Set 1: Books 1 - 3 (Sick, Exit 9, & Pale Horse) Page 68
