Crush: Impact Book 4: (A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller Series)

by E. E. Isherwood

  “I think that can be arranged, don’t you, Dorothy?”

  Chapter 5

  Denver International Airport, CO

  By the time Grace and her associates walked back to the truck, the helicopter had taken off and the line of Humvees had headed for the airport. None of the soldiers waved as they went by, but they peered intently at the migrating people, perhaps worried some of them might band together and attack.

  “Well, Mr. Runs Hard, I think we can safely say the airport is out of the question.” She might have been willing to drive on the grass, like the military convoy, but if what the soldiers said was true, there was no point.

  He replied with a noncommittal, “Hmm.”

  They all climbed in the Suburban, but once inside, they all sat silently in their places. It reminded her of how conversation naturally ebbs every seven minutes, or so she learned at school. Grace wanted to break the silence, but she was at a loss for what to do next. The airport was out, yet she’d promised to help the two members of the Crow nation. But how?

  While looking in her mirror, she caught sight of the father stroking his salt-and-pepper stubble. When he noticed her, he took a long, deep sigh. “I and my son appreciate what you’ve tried to do for us, but you are correct. The airport is out of the question. We could try other airports, but I’d be surprised if any of them are operating. Plus, now I doubt the condition of Washington, DC.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she pleaded. “I didn’t mean for it to end up like this.”

  “Of course, you didn’t,” he said in a friendly way. “No one could have foretold this is what would become of an entire city. I’ve been thinking of what to do now. What to do with my son.”

  She faced Asher. “Do your parents have a spare car? Maybe they could loan it to our new friends?”

  Before he could answer, Shawn reacted. “No! We don’t need to be in your debt any more than we already are. Besides, there are friends of our nation here in Denver. I’m sure we could get a ride back to the rez if things were that simple.”

  It was difficult to talk to a person sitting behind her, so she scooted forward on her seat and then turned around. “I only want to make sure you two don’t end up on the side of the road, like those people out there.”

  “We won’t,” he assured her. “But I think I might have a way to finish my task without getting on a plane.”

  “That’s amazing,” she replied.

  “That said, I’m not sure I want to ask you to help us.” Mr. Runs Hard looked over to his son. “And I’m not sure it’s the safe thing to do.”

  “What’s your plan?” She imagined him asking her to drive them all the way to DC. It would stretch the limits of what she’d agreed to do.

  “The Army man said they’ve been transporting important people to and from the airport, and the big guy who climbed aboard the helicopter was going toward the city. It tells me there’s something worth visiting. He also said Petteri Tikkanen is in Denver…”

  “We know him, of course,” she deadpanned.

  “Right. So, if we can’t talk to the government about working with TKM to establish our ownership rights, why not talk to TKM about working with the government? I’m no lawyer, but I’m sure we can make them aware we have no intention of giving up on what’s ours.”

  “Dude,” Logan gushed. “Are you talking about going into the city? I’ve never been in a giant city like Denver.”

  The boy’s father rolled his eyes in a paternal way. “How many times do I have to tell you? I’m not a dude. I’m your father.”

  Logan tempered his excitement. “Sorry, sir.”

  She wasn’t sure it was a smart move, especially for her and Asher. “We don’t really know where he is,” she said with a tone suggesting it was a deal breaker.

  Asher chose that moment to jump in. “He’ll be at the asteroid fragment.” He smiled briefly at her, then turned to face the pair in the back. “All those trucks were heading down the highway to reach whatever fragment landed in Denver. It’s the only explanation that makes sense. TKM has a lot of mines in the mountains of Colorado. I’m sure this is the first place they’d go if their intention was to scoop up the remains. If the soldier said Mr. Tikkanen is in Denver, then there is only one place where he’d be.”

  She couldn’t tell by his tone whether he supported going to find the leader who had sent a hitman out to kill him. As the whistleblower responsible for trying to alert the world to the nefarious actions of a multinational corporation which spanned all the way to the asteroid belt, she wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to stay far away.

  “It can’t be safe in the city,” Shawn remarked. “I hate to ask you to accompany us, but maybe you could get us close?”

  “Well, we—” she began to say.

  Asher interrupted. “TKM is responsible for the safety of my sister. I’d like to have a word with them about where she is. After all, what are they going to do? Send a hitman after me?”

  She chuckled, surprised by his perspective.

  Logan sat forward in his seat. “We’re going into the city?”

  Grace started the engine, reflecting on what she was agreeing to. The hitman might have been after Asher to start, but her close association with him ensured she was on the same corporation’s naughty list. Her butt would be on the line, too. Still, it had some logic to it. If she was with a legitimate figure like Shawn Runs Hard, they couldn’t hurt her and Asher. Plus, if Misha was still out there, like he said, the last place he would look for her is with his boss.

  Unless he hopped his plane in Billings and went directly to Denver.

  She ignored her misgivings and started the motor. “Yep. Why not?”

  St. Charles, MO

  Ezra figured they’d floated half a mile in the time it took him to cut through the thick nylon rope of the soccer goal netting. He made sure not to pull on it too much. He never wanted to see the dead man again. When he hacked away the last bit, the rope snapped off and went underwater.

  “Rest in peace,” he said to the man.

  “Are we solid?” Butch asked.

  “Yep,” he replied. “Here, take the shovel,” he continued, while handing the tool to Butch.

  He climbed up the ladder and hastened to his captain’s chair. A minute later, with the engine back in the water where it belonged, he feathered the gas and was once again driving defensively. As glad as he was to get out, the stench of his clothes hit him in the face, reminiscent of the time he helped troubleshoot his neighbor’s broken septic tank.

  “Dang! You brought the smell with you.” Butch waved his hand, anxious to keep the air moving.

  “Sorry,” he replied, disgusted by what must be on his skin.

  There was no pattern to the flow of garbage. All he could realistically accomplish was to stay away from the larger pieces. The floating dumpster. The cargo boxes. Driftwood that looked like it could have come from the Sequoia Redwoods. He angled the pontoon boat toward the shore, hoping what he’d said about the less dense debris along the edges was really true.

  A half hour later, he recognized the highway and railroad bridges he’d briefly glimpsed before they got hung up in the netting. “We’re back where we started,” he said dryly.

  “Roger that, E-Z.” Butch spoke like he was in a military unit.

  For the next hour, he weaved in and out of the debris field. It was worse when he had to pass huge rock piles that stuck out fifty or a hundred yards into the river. They were designed to force the water into the main channel, so barges could ply the river, but they also acted as water guns, shooting debris in long, thick streams, some of which circled in eddies downriver from the blockers.

  “It looks like a town is up ahead. I think it would be a good place to stop until the river clears up.” Wherever the trash and junk had come from, it was evident they weren’t going to make it up the riverway while it was coming at them. They’d run out of gas starting and stopping over and over, to say nothing about possibly getting caught
up in the trash a second time. If they were forced to repeat sections of river while he cleared the prop time after time, they could potentially end up with negative miles per gallon fuel economy. “We also need some supplies; maybe they’ve got some stores willing to sell to us.”

  They went under a stout highway bridge with a section of light green trusswork above it. A black railroad bridge hid behind it. Beyond those, the tree-lined riverfront of the small town offered them a potential landing spot.

  “This place doesn’t look damaged by the water,” Butch commented, looking ahead. While the debris was thick in the river, the shore hadn’t been stripped by fast-moving water and loose shipping, as they’d seen the entire time they’d been on the Mississippi. It reaffirmed his guess the worst floodwaters had originated on the other river, not this one.

  “Maybe the town itself hasn’t gone Mad Max, like some of those others. I’d like to find somewhere normal for once, you know?” He pointed to the hull of a tipped-over fishing boat. “Hey, is it clear on the far side of that boat?”

  Butch half-stood. “Yeah, I don’t see anything.”

  Ezra guided Susan’s Grace around the hull floating by, then veered toward shore. “We’re going to tie up here. It should give us a few hundred yards between us and the town. I’d prefer people didn’t know we have a boat to plunder. You know? Just in case.”

  “Smart. I’d have driven right up on the shore of the main part of town. I’d want to make an entrance.”

  Ezra laughed. “Why?”

  Butch shrugged. “I have no idea. I guess I’d want to impress the ladies. Why else?”

  It had the ring of truth to it. A strong young man like Butch probably did all right with women. Ezra had once thought Butch reminded him of Grace due to their similar ages and stubbornness, but the comparison had changed after spending so much time together. In fact, he could see him as dating material for his daughter. Veteran. Grease monkey. Kept himself in shape. Proved himself a reliable travel companion, even in the face of death. What more was there?

  He pulled near the trees of the shore and ran the pontoons onto the sandy bank. He raised the motor to get it clear of the water, then ran to the front and jumped off with the mooring rope. Once it was tied and the boat was secure, he looked around.

  “Hardly feels like we’re close to a city,” he said matter-of-factly.

  Butch jumped to shore with his rifle and backpack already on his person. “You know me. Always happy to be off the water. Doesn’t really matter what’s out there, as long as it’s dry.”

  “We taking the rifles?” he asked in a no-nonsense tone. Guns were being confiscated in St. Louis, which was still close by.

  “Should we leave them here?”

  Ezra thought about it for a few seconds. “I guess not. Some kid might come along and take them or hurt themselves. Even if we hid them, I don’t think I’d feel too safe about it. While we’re in town, maybe we can buy a gun safe.” They laughed. “I’ll take the key, of course, so no one can make off with the boat.”

  A blue kingfisher flew by while Butch faced inland, briefly stopping on a tree branch about ten feet away from Ezra. He almost said something to Butch, though the bird had flown away before he got the words out. “At least nature seems to have recovered from the asteroid explosions. I saw a cool bird.”

  Butch took the lead as they walked through the woods along the waterline. While Ezra could listen to the sounds of nature all day long, Butch didn’t seem as interested in the crickets, birds, and how the wind moved high branches. He began to whistle a happy tune.

  The sun tried to peek through the overcast clouds, and the hike was a needed return to normal for Ezra. Yeah, they had guns and backpacks full of ammo, but he couldn’t see the debris in the water, nor could he see other people. It was only him and Butch. Then he noticed the tune.

  “Really? You’re whistling ‘Michael, Row the Boat Ashore’? That’s your go-to walking ditty?” Ezra cracked up laughing, which caused Butch to snicker and interrupt his song.

  “Yeah, my mother was the organist for our church. I grew up listening to her practice every song in her sheet music books. I guess this one reminds me how we’ve made it back to shore. Man, if we never row the boat again, I’d be pretty happy.”

  “Do you mean—” he started.

  “No, I’m not giving up, E-Z. I’m saying we’ve seen it all out there. I’m ready for some R and R for a while, you know?”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  They walked for a short time, covering the distance to the riverfront. When they finally came out of the thick foliage, they stood at the edge of a tent city. Thousands of inhabitants had taken up residence on the park-like acres in front of the town’s buildings. A man in a white plastic patio chair sat on the edge of the gathering, watching him and Butch emerge.

  “We heard you coming,” he said dryly. “Welcome to St. Charles.”

  A pistol sat in the man’s lap.

  Chapter 6

  Denver, CO

  Grace gave herself a few minutes to think about the implications of traveling toward danger, rather than away. At the same time, Asher tried to give her the lay of the land in regard to the metro area of Denver.

  “Denver is huge and shaped like a square,” he began. “We’re on the E-470 outer belt, which is so far outside the city it is mostly farmland and grass, as you can see.” He pointed north, out his side of the truck, to the endless rolling grassland they were already familiar with. “Inside of the outer belt, you’ll see mostly suburban sprawl. Houses. Schools. Churches. Those sorts of things. I think it is about thirty miles from one side of the city to the other, if I remember right.”

  Logan whistled, impressed.

  “The airport is on the eastern edge of the sprawl. The foothills of the Rockies are at the western boundary of the city, but the city doesn’t go into the mountains at all. People do live up there, of course, but they aren’t part of the main core of Denver. The northern area we’re in now is called Thornton, I think. I live on the complete opposite side of the city, at the south, in a suburb called Highlands Ranch.”

  “Wow. Back home, it was thirty miles from my house to the little town of Paducah. I can’t imagine that whole drive being inside a city like this.” She laughed to herself. “My mom would have hated this. If she’d been stuck in this truck, she’d have her purse sitting on her lap the whole time, telling me she wanted to get out as soon as possible.”

  “It’s not bad,” Asher assured her. “But there is one thing destined to hamper us, no matter what we do next. The main highway to the south is clogged with all those trucks.” He pointed ahead. Though it was still many miles away, they were heading back to the intersection with the other highway.

  As they talked it through, she recognized the overpass they’d gone under on the way to the airport. She expected to find the same half-dozen vehicles parked next to the road once they came out the other side, but as she entered the darkness under the bridge, an additional sports car became visible. The red Corvette had flipped on its top and then slid into the grassy median about a hundred yards beyond the overpass. It absolutely wasn’t there during their previous drive-by.

  She drove under the bridge at sixty-five, but Grace’s park ranger mentality kicked in. Her foot hovered over the brake pedal, in case any of the drivers in those cars needed help. It would be another ill-timed inconvenience, but she’d stop if anyone flagged her down.

  Asher screamed a warning, pointing ahead.

  An object fell out of the shadows, like a brick had come loose from the road above. But it was bigger than a brick. Maybe five or six regular bricks in one big clump.

  “Holy—” she yelled, heartbeat going right to triple speed. She smashed her boot on the brake pedal, causing the front end to dip down with the urgent change in momentum. The heavy brick slammed on the pockmarked white hood a few inches from her windshield. It bounced and ricocheted off the front edge of the roof, somehow missing the glas
s completely.

  In one moment of clarity, while blood surged behind her eyeballs, she realized the other vehicles had also experienced the same scare. If timed perfectly, the dropped concrete would go directly through the windshield and into the interior.

  She ignored the fear and kept the truck in the proper lane as it skidded to a halt. If it had happened a week ago, she might have freaked out and ended up tipped over in the median with the red car.

  Once the truck was stopped, she exhaled with relief, then gave everyone a cursory once-over look. “All good?” She barely waited for a reply, though she did ensure no one was hurt. Grace kicked open her door and jumped out.

  “Grace, wait!” Asher yelled.

  She didn’t even consider it. Someone dropped those massive cinder blocks. Many of them lay on the ground off to the side of the road, some broken in half from violent impacts. After yanking her pistol from its holster, she ran toward the embankment up to the bridge.

  “Hold on!” Shawn cried out, he and Asher giving chase to her.

  “I’m not leaving those jerks here to do this again. I’m putting an end to their horse shit right now!”

  Asher had almost caught up. “I know. We’re with you. Wait up!”

  She slowed only enough to let Asher keep pace with her. Her anger heated with each step, and the gun gave her confidence she could enforce the law on this one issue. Her NPS uniform might have been technically useless outside the park, but common decency dictated she arrest anyone doing such outrageous law breaking.

  When she reached the top level, she hopped over a guard rail. The road was empty, save for a lone pickup truck parked in the suicide lane of the four-lane bridge. The back was filled to the brim with cinder blocks. The culprits had to be sitting inside. She saw heads moving as she approached.

  “I’m here,” Shawn relayed as he, too, jumped the guard rail.

  “I’m going to kick their asses,” she exclaimed, finding no bottom to her anger. The people inside the truck had almost killed her or Asher, at the very least, and possibly all of them had she lost control of the truck. They were going to pay.