The Geostorm Series (Book 5): Geostorm [The Tempest]

by Akart, Bobby

  Everyone gathered closer and took each other’s hands. As the rain came down harder and pelted the tin roof of the barn, Sarah spoke louder so everyone, and God, could hear her.

  “Dear loving Father, for all of my adult life, it has been a joy to wake up here with my husband and our family. Throughout each and every night, you’ve kept us protected and given us strength to face a new day. Now it’s time for us to leave our home, which has given us comfort and sustenance for generations.

  “We pray your ministering angels, who guarded us during our sleep and guided us during our waking hours, take care of our home while we’re away. We pray they follow us and provide us the same guidance and protection as we seek a new home, one that will allow us to survive in the trying times our world faces.

  “In Jesus’ name we pray, amen.”

  Chapter 4

  Southeast Indiana

  They set out with a specific route in mind. From the start, Chapman realized they’d left a few days too late. He’d kept his opinions to himself, trying not to stew over the pushback he’d received from Levi and Carly, which, in his opinion, prevented them from leaving immediately once the house collapsed. At this point, it was necessary for the family to come together as they faced the arduous task of traveling over two hundred miles in horrific weather on roads that appeared to be blocked in many places.

  As if Levi was able to read his brother’s thoughts, he shouted back to Chapman so he could be heard over the steady rain, “It’s because we’re so close to the river! Once we cross the bridge at Mauckport, we’ll be on higher ground with plenty of roads to choose from.”

  Chapman shouted back, “Tell Tommy and Kristi to drive ahead. See if River Road is even passable all the way past New Amsterdam. We may need to head east before we turn south.”

  As Levi urged his horse forward to catch up with the slow-moving car, Chapman sighed. He knew this trip was gonna be grueling and the pace would be slow.

  Like Levi, as a child and young adult, he’d studied the history of the Boone family and the life of pioneer families in the nineteenth century. Americans, like Squire and Daniel Boone, had a desire to explore, so they ventured into the unknown. They returned to their communities with stories of rich soil for farmers and abundant wildlife for hunters.

  Newspapers on the East Coast began to report on the pioneers’ exploits, with one story’s byline reading, If hell were in the West, Americans would cross Heaven to get there. Editorials were written on the concept of Manifest Destiny, the doctrine that the United States should stretch from sea to shining sea as a matter of right.

  Before there was a gold rush, there was a mental affliction known as Oregon Fever. According to the early travelers west, Oregon was a paradise flowing with milk and honey, where wild hogs ran about already cooked, with knives and forks protruding out so anyone could have a slice.

  Horace Greeley, the founder and editor of the New York Tribune, one of the most widely circulated newspapers of the time, wrote the inspirational headline for his lead editorial encouraging exploration and new settlements. It was simple, yet it became a rallying cry for pioneers. Go West, Young Man!

  And they did without regard to the dangers they faced. The stories of riches and abundant lands rarely were accompanied with the facts of hostile Indians and unforgiving conditions. Weather and terrain were two of the naturally occurring obstacles they faced. The threats from Indians and wild animals were certainly greater.

  But the pioneers embarked on their new adventure anyway, and they wanted to bring civilization with them. Fashion and means of entertainment, such as books, printed newspapers and liquor, accompanied them. They were loaded down with their worldly possessions, ambling along in covered wagons much like the Boone family was on this first day of their journey.

  Chapman recalled from his early studies that it took the wagon trains nearly five months to travel two thousand miles. Of course, they didn’t have the benefit of the paved highways of modern times. Nonetheless, he wanted to be realistic in his calculations. It would be pushing their animals to make the trek to the Cumberland Gap in seven to ten days, especially in the dreadful weather. It could be done, assuming, of course, there were no obstacles. Two weeks was more realistic.

  Levi rode back to Chapman after the Mustang pulled ahead. “Kristi remembers the roads well enough to find her way around the rising river. At this pace, we won’t have to make a decision until we reach New Amsterdam in an hour or so. They’ll be back by then.”

  Chapman removed his Weather Channel cap and shook the water off before placing it back on to shield his face from the rain. “Levi, you know as well as I do that this next week or so is gonna suck. But I swear to you, it’s necessary. There’s never been anything like this, and the scientific explanation makes sense.”

  Levi nodded and smiled. “It also makes common sense. Honestly, I know this is my fault. Dad’s death affected me more than I realized. I was tryin’ to hold on to him, our farm, you know, hopin’ the danged sun would shine at some point.”

  The two brothers rode at the rear of the procession, their conversation out of earshot of the others. “Levi, I’m proud of what you did, whatever it was.”

  “Whadya mean?” Levi asked, feigning ignorance about the point of his question.

  “Billy.”

  Levi sighed, looked away, and then rubbed his horse’s mane. “I wanna put that night behind us, but I will say this, Bully Billy brought it on himself. Literally. Did I sort of, um, encourage the situation? Yessir. Do I regret it? Not at all. I left his place with a clear conscience.”

  Chapman glanced at his brother and made eye contact. “That’s good enough for me. Asshole had it coming.”

  “He sure did.”

  Chapman changed the subject and pointed ahead to the covered wagons obtained from Misty Garness. “Those things look like the real deal.”

  Levi shrugged. “I think so. I mean, all I know about covered wagons is what I read about as a kid. The original Hoosiers used them to get around. These are replicas, but they’re built just like they were back in the day.”

  Chapman laughed. “We are back in the day, brother.”

  Levi joined in. “You wanna know something? Grandpa said this would happen at some point.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah. When he took me huntin’, he’d go on and on about politics and America’s enemies. You know, Russia, China, North Korea, and Iran.”

  “To name a few, right?”

  “Yeah. He worried about those guys the most because they had nukes. He talked about EMPs and what would happen to the power grid. He never mentioned what the sun could do.”

  “The results are nearly the same although the nuclear-delivered electromagnetic pulse warheads are generally more devastating. That was assuming, of course, the planet had an atmosphere and a strong magnetic field to protect it. That’s changed now.”

  Levi noticed Carly craning her neck around the side of the wagon as she waved to him. As he waved back, he apologized to Chapman. “I’m sorry about her. Um, she has strong opinions sometimes.”

  “Hey, no worries. We need strong women like Carly to make it through this. Besides, she didn’t say anything out of line.”

  Levi chuckled. “You didn’t hear what she said behind your back.”

  This caused Chapman to laugh heartily, which drew the attention of Isabella and Jesse, who were riding side by side ahead of them.

  The conversation helped pass the time, and they were approaching New Amsterdam when Chapman made an observation.

  “You know, they should’ve been back by now.”

  Chapter 5

  The Matthew E. Welsh Bridge

  Mauckport, Indiana

  “Well, this sounded good on paper,” mumbled Tommy in frustration as he took yet another northerly turn in search of a road to the east. Barely a mile past New Amsterdam, River Road was completely consumed by the Ohio River. “I’ve taken so many turns that I’m not sure I can find m
y way back.”

  “Don’t worry, we’re almost to the highway.”

  Kristi stayed calm, hoping to ease his frustration. She glanced at the analog clock embedded in the Mustang’s dash. It had been almost an hour, but she knew an alternative road back to New Amsterdam that wouldn’t be as time-consuming as the zigzag approach they’d just taken. Trying to find the most direct route from point A to point B wasn’t going to be easy with flooded roads everywhere.

  “There it is. One-thirty-five, right?”

  “Yes. Take a right and the bridge should only be three or four miles.”

  Tommy glanced to his left. “Aren’t the caverns over there?” He tapped the driver’s side window with his knuckle as he referenced Squire Boone Caverns, where Kristi’s father had been laid to rest almost a week ago.

  She nodded her response and pushed the hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ears until it worked its way loose again. She stared ahead in silence. They passed a dozen or more stalled cars on both sides of the road. Abandoned transportation now rendered useless courtesy of the geostorm activity.

  Tommy pointed to a road sign. “Ohio River Bridge, two miles. That’s us.”

  Kristi noticed standing water in the fields on both sides of the highway. “Those aren’t lakes. The ground is so saturated there’s no place for the rain to go.”

  The highway narrowed as they traveled through a stretch of woods. The number of stalled vehicles began to increase, and soon, they could see the river. Only, it was much farther inland than it was supposed to be. As they progressed, the woods began to resemble a swamp full of pecky cypress trees popping through the murky waters.

  “I see taillights!” exclaimed Tommy, amazed to see other operating vehicles. In the distance a procession of pedestrians walked in both directions along the highway, flanking what resembled a parade of vintage automobiles traveling southbound. “They’re driving tractors, too.”

  They cleared the woods, so Kristi leaned forward in her seat and looked over the side of the bridge as Tommy slowed to a crawl to avoid refugees in the middle of the road.

  “River Road is down there somewhere. The water is lapping up just beneath the overpass. That means the Ohio has risen sixteen feet or more.”

  “Sixteen?”

  “Yeah, Dad used to make sure the hay bales weren’t stacked more than that on the back of the farm trucks. That’s how I knew how much clearance we had.”

  As Tommy drove slowly through the dozens of people on the road, they immediately closed behind his tailgate so that the Mustang was surrounded. The highway narrowed further as the bridge began, concrete barriers hugging the roadway and forcing the pedestrians closer to their car.

  Tommy subtly eased his left arm onto the door and pushed the door lock down with his elbow. He made eye contact with Kristi and she did the same. She also readied her handgun.

  “There aren’t any cars coming in this direction,” observed Tommy. “Do you think someone is directing traffic up—”

  “Stop!” Kristi shouted, cutting off his sentence.

  “What?”

  Suddenly, the red brake lights turned white as the vehicles ahead seemed to put their transmissions in reverse all at once.

  “Something’s wrong. They’re coming back.”

  Tommy frantically looked in his mirrors when he realized he was trapped by an old red Ford tractor and dozens of people he’d just passed.

  Horns began to blare angrily as the sound of tires squealing on the pavement filled the air.

  Then came the screams of pedestrians, who began to run off the single-pier, cantilever bridge. Kristi cranked down her window and stuck her head out to get a better look. Despite the rain pelting her face, she could see what was happening.

  The steel truss system that ran the length of the three-thousand-foot bridge was shaking and tearing apart at its peak. Then, suddenly, the peak disappeared from her view.

  “Back up!”

  “There are people—”

  “Hurry!”

  POW! POW! POW!

  One after another, steel rivets were expelled from the supports. The bridge’s structure was failing, and the steel trusses were coming apart.

  Tommy laid on the horn, holding it down continuously as he shoved the Mustang in reverse and began to back around the large tractor. People were slamming their fists on his trunk lid as he pushed them out of the way without regard for their safety.

  The Matthew E. Welsh Bridge was falling down, and the rapidly disappearing taillights in front of them was all he needed to see.

  A man screamed in agony as the Mustang’s left rear fender mashed him against the concrete safety barrier. His bloodied body left streaks along the driver’s side window and across the hood before it fell in a heap on the highway.

  Nobody stopped to assist the dying man as they ran past. Several jumped onto the hood of the Mustang and bounded past as if they were skipping across a lake on boulders.

  More cars in front of them disappeared from view as Tommy used his rearview mirrors to navigate. The road was too narrow to turn around.

  And there was no time.

  “The tractor!” shouted Kristi.

  The old Ford tractor, which apparently couldn’t travel in reverse, disappeared from view as the bridge collapsed into the swollen river. Panicked, Tommy spun the tires on the rain-soaked road, causing the back of the Mustang to fishtail out of control. He ran into a man and woman on horseback, spooking the animal which recoiled. The horse lost its balance and threw them off and over the side of the bridge.

  “It’s slowing!” shouted Kristi as the collapse of the bridge’s sections began to stop.

  “Don’t care,” said Tommy as he gripped the wheel and gritted his teeth.

  The number of people on the bridge were beginning to thin in numbers, and he was almost back to the wooded area, where a slight shoulder could be used to turn around. When the road cleared, in a move reminiscent of a scene in an old Steve McQueen movie, he pressed down the gas pedal and quickly whipped the steering wheel to the side until the Mustang swung around to face north away from the destroyed bridge.

  He sped down the highway, not breathing until they were alone on the road again. Aggravated, he started slamming the top of the steering wheel with his hand.

  “Dammit!”

  Venting his frustration served to calm his nerves and anger.

  Kristi reached over and gently grabbed his arm. “It’s okay. It’s over.”

  “I killed three people, Kristi. Already. We’re barely getting started and I killed them.”

  “There was nothing you could do. We’d be at the bottom of the river if you didn’t get us out of there. You saw what happened to the tractor. Right?”

  Tommy rolled his head around his neck to relieve some tension. He slowed as he passed a road sign indicating the turn to Squire Boone Caverns.

  He exhaled and shook his head. “Now what? That was our bridge.”

  Kristi brought her right hand up to her mouth and bit her index finger. She stared across the rain-soaked fields.

  “Let’s go find the others. We’re gonna have to go through Louisville.”

  Chapter 6

  Antioch Church

  Blunk Knob Road

  Franklin Township, Indiana

  Darkness had settled in the night before as they came upon the Antioch Church on Blunk Knob Road just southwest of Louisville, Kentucky. The small white clapboard church stood on a hill nestled in a stand of pines and cedar trees.

  A portable sign by the roadway read God wants full custody, not just weekend visits. Sarah took the preacher’s suggestion at his word, and after she hopped off the horse-drawn wagon, she immediately went to the double doors under the cross affixed to the outside of the church.

  She tried the handle and stepped inside. It was dark except for the faint light allowed in by the stained-glass windows lining both sides of the chapel. She smiled and returned to the group.

  “I think we’
ve got a dry place to stay for the night. Let’s care for the horses and change into some dry clothes. It’s a little chilly inside, but it beats sleeping in the barn.”

  Everyone worked together to get the group settled while Tommy and Chapman built a fire in a grill under a pavilion beside the church. They’d brought over a dozen cured hams, one for each night on the road, to supplement the canned goods and corn.

  As they began to cook, Levi joined them with a cooler of corn and a cast-iron pot. “Do you have room for me to boil some water?” he asked as he shook off the rain.

  “Sure,” replied Tommy. “What do you have in mind?”

  Levi teased Tommy. “You’re in for a real treat, city boy. I’m gonna make us cooler corn.”

  Chapman laughed. “You’re more like Grandpa than any of us. I remember cooler corn.”

  Levi held the cast-iron kettle near the overhang of the metal roof until rainwater filled it. He placed it on the hot grill to start the boiling process. While the water heated, he handed Tommy and Chapman a couple of ears of corn. Together, they shucked the ears while Levi explained.

  “Grandpa used to keep an old Coleman cooler by the barn at the top of the hill. While we were doing chores and feeding the hogs, he’d pick out the best-lookin’ ears and shuck them until there were half a dozen or so in the bottom of the cooler. While he did that, he started water to boilin’. He covered the ears with the hot water, slammed the lid shut, and twenty to thirty minutes later, we were munchin’ on sweet corn while we finished our chores.”

  Tommy laughed as he dropped his first ear into the cooler. “Who knew?”

  Chapman slapped Kristi’s new friend on the back. “Let me tell you something. Our grandfather was the closest thing to our family’s ancestors as there was. To him, understanding the ways of pioneer life was almost like a religion.”