Impact Series Box Set | Books 1-6

by Isherwood, E. E.

  “Good luck,” she called after them.

  Unable to do anything for the cars, she squatted down to get a better look at the black snow. Grace scooped up a handful and mushed it in her palm, confirming it was a mixture of black dust and regular snow crystals. Despite the unusual color, it stacked up and slicked the road like normal snow; it was good information to have before going down the mountain.

  “Grace, are you all right?” Tessa shouted from nearby.

  She shot up. Tessa had driven along the center of the road, effectively blocking anyone else from going ahead of the convoy. The headlights were on, though the gathering snow blotted out the bottom half of each one.

  “I’m fine,” she replied, walking along the flattened tire tracks until she reached Tessa. “You guys good in there?” Somewhere in the back was a man she thought might be Misha, though Tessa had said the guy had a gun. Misha had dropped his; it was now in her pocket.

  Tessa nodded. “Me and Chester are good. I’d like to get this burn victim some help, though. He moans when he sleeps. I think he’s really in pain.”

  She saw an opportunity. “Is he asleep, now?”

  Tessa glanced over her shoulder to the back seat. “Yeah, looks like it.”

  “I’m going to open the door and check him out. Maybe I can get a better handle on his burns, so I know how fast we have to drive out of here.” She celebrated the reasonable-sounding excuse, and if the man was hurt, she would do everything in her power to make sure he got help, but the real reason she wanted to see him had nothing to do with helping.

  I have to know if it’s him.

  “Knock yourself out,” Tessa said dryly.

  The heavy snowfall muffled the running engines of all the cars over on the Beartooth Pass parking lot. She smelled them, however. The clean mountain air was saturated with exhaust. As she reached for the door handle, she put the sounds and smells out of her mind. All of her attention was on discovering who was in the truck.

  Grace opened the back door and saw a familiar man in a black suit. Lightning flashed at the perfect time, brightening the compartment enough to see every detail of his clothing. He was sprawled out on the rear bench seat, but had his head propped up against the far door.

  “Oh—” she started to say, before she saw the man giving her the “shush” sign with a finger over his lips. There was also a pistol partially hidden by his suit jacket that was pointed toward the woman in the front seat. Thunder rumbled to make his point.

  Grace stood there in shock. Tessa had said the man was asleep, so she didn’t even have her pistol in her hand.

  Misha managed to convey what he wanted without using words. He waved the gun, his hand, and used his eyes.

  Get these two out of the truck, so we can talk.

  Land Between the Lakes, KY

  Ezra and Butch were able to contribute immediately, though Ezra was comfortable with admitting it was mostly the larger man. He brought a fresh eye to the men’s struggle, but when it came time to push, Butch did most of the work. In less than fifteen minutes they had the stuck Jeep out of the bog. Both rode in the cramped back seat of a Wrangler as the group drove a few muddy miles to the south. When they reached the campground, the men hooted and hollered out their windows.

  “You guys have been out there for a long time, haven’t you?” he asked his driver, Colby, as they struggled out of the seat and hopped off the lifted, mud-covered Jeep.

  “Not us, just the Jeeps. We’ve been trying to get them unstuck since the night before last.”

  “You’ve been working on them since Paducah blew up?” he asked with surprise.

  “Yep. There were ten rigs in our group. Me and some of the more daring guys saw the mud pit and knew we had to get through it, so we went at it hard. A couple Jeeps went all the way through, but three of us were right in the thick of it when the lights started up. When the blast of air came through, a big wave of water came with it. That made everything ten times worse.”

  “Was the lake close by?” He’d gotten turned around during their run from the bikers, so he couldn’t remember if they were close to, or far from, the water.

  “No, we were a quarter of a mile away. It was more of a tornado of water, if you know what I mean. We were left standing in six inches of the stuff, in addition to the thick mud already there.”

  “So, your people left you?” Butch interjected.

  “Some of them did, yes. Said they had to get back to Paducah. A couple others claimed they were too scared to stay out here in the woods, so they headed off into the night. Luckily, a few of the guys stuck around. They ferried us back to the camp to get more help. That’s why we have the dirt bikes and our wives and girlfriends with us.”

  Colby acted like he was going to lean against the rear quarter panel of his Jeep, but he thought better of it when he saw how much mud was splattered on it. Instead, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “You two look like you can take care of yourselves. You said you were going to Yellowstone, right?”

  Ezra nodded.

  “I thought you were yanking our chain, but I haven’t seen any reason to suspect you made it up. Anyway, you helped us a little…maybe you’d be willing to help us some more.”

  He’d been waiting to get the bill since they first ran into the Jeepers. “What do you have in mind?”

  Colby opened his cigarette pack, but his smokes were soggy. He turned his nose at it, then shoved it back in the box. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet,” he lamented.

  “Us, either,” Ezra said to be friendly, though he was beginning to wonder if the men were going to ask for one of his Bushmasters as payment for safe passage. The camp was made up of only five or six Jeeps, including the three filthy ones they’d just helped extract from the mud, but there were at least fifteen grown men standing around. The women on the bikes were still out in the woods.

  “So, here’s the deal. We’ve been here for almost two full days, with barely a word of contact with the outside world. We’re ready to go home. The problem is, the bridges east and west are both closed due to all the cars stuck on them. We can’t go north because of the forest fires. That’s where our women were coming from, when they found you.”

  “So, you want to go south, like us?” he guessed.

  “You got it. Most of us left are from Murray and Paris. We didn’t rush home since we live the closest. But the joke was on us; not only did we get stuck in the mud, we were way too late to go over the bridge a mile away. A couple guys tried it on dirt bikes, but some men at a roadblock turned them back.”

  Butch chuckled. “Same here. We tried to go through and the guys at the roadblock told us to pound sand. People like them probably have the roads blocked everywhere.”

  “That’s why I want you two to help us. First, I have to ask; is there anything I can offer for those guns? Those are what we really need: a way to protect ourselves from the unexpected out there.” Colby’s eyes went to the Bushmaster slung over Ezra’s back. In response, he gripped the sling taut against his shoulder.

  “I’m afraid not,” he said warily, wondering if he was about to be relieved of it anyway. He considered whipping it off and daring anyone to take it, but then he would ruin any chance of cooperation.

  “I figured as much. Then would you be willing to ride a dirt bike, assuming you know how, down south, across the bridge, and to my home in Murray?”

  Ezra was taken by surprise. They’d intended to go through Murray anyway, so being offered a ride there was fantastic. He couldn’t ask for a better deal, but there was still an element of distrust he had to quell.

  “Why?” he blurted.

  Colby checked around him, then pulled Butch and Ezra closer. “I’ve got a problem. Half these guys have fifty or sixty thousand dollars invested in their rigs. Lifts. Engine mods. Roll cages. Custom axles. They won’t leave them here in the woods.”

  “They’re crazy,” Ezra replied. “Unless the paved route to the south is clear, you’re going to be
stuck here. Maybe for a very long time.”

  “That’s just it. The highway to the south isn’t open. The girls told me trees came down all over the road, worse than they are around here. My wife thinks a meteorite fell somewhere to the south.”

  With the nimble Jeeps, they were able to go around many of the fallen trees, but with so many down, it might take forever to get through them. In fact, the way might be completely impassable closer to the impact zone.

  Butch scoffed. “So, you guys are going to wait with your fancy-pants Jeeps until cutters come through and clear the way for you? That’s no good. You’ve got to hoof it out, brother.”

  “I know it’s insane,” Colby said quietly. “Now you know why I’m asking you two to ride with the women and get them to safety. The rest of us will stay behind until help arrives. In fact,” he pulled out his phone, “I’m going to call my family in Murray to tell them the ladies will be there, soon.”

  Ezra’s eyes lit up at the sight of the phone. “Hey, before we agree to anything, you mind if I make a call?”

  A lead weight dropped into his stomach with a heavy clunk. Getting a free ride thirty miles down the road would be an incredible stroke of luck, given all they’d been through, but he still had a terrible duty to perform.

  I have to tell Grace her mother is dead.

  Chapter 12

  Beartooth Pass, WY

  “Hey, Tessa, would you and Chester please go inform the drivers we’re going to be heading down the other side of the mountain in a few minutes? I’ll keep an eye on this man, to be sure he’s okay.” Misha’s hand remained on his pistol.

  The two rangers didn’t even look back. They hopped out and went over to the parking lot, ready to speak with the other drivers. It left her alone with the hitman.

  “Where did you get another gun?” she asked immediately.

  The man spoke good English with only a hint of his Russian accent. “You think I would only have one? I carry many in my truck. You want to give me that one, and the one you took from me?” He eased the gun out of his suit jacket and pointed it at her. He’d changed out of his red shirt, though signs of the burns were evident on his left hand and forearm, as well as the left side of his face and head. It appeared painful.

  She delicately pulled the Glock out of her police belt and handed it over. “Your old gun is back in my truck,” she lied, thinking fast. “I don’t carry multiple pistols around as part of my job, like you apparently do.” She assumed since he didn’t shoot her on sight, he wasn’t going to kill her in the moment.

  Misha’s eyes seemed to search her face for evidence of the lie, but she stood firm. As brave as her façade was, she did shiver involuntarily, perhaps from being scared, but also from the bitter cold.

  He went on. “I will take your bear spray, too. No sense giving you the temptation to burn me again.”

  She unclasped the bear spray from her belt and did as instructed. The only thing left in the belt was the multitool; a set of pliers probably wasn’t much of a threat to him. “So, what are we going to do now? Are you going to kill me? If you do, Asher will get the gun, come over here and kill you back.”

  Misha’s laugh was relaxed. “You are making an elephant out of a fly.” He paused. “Where I come from, it means you are exaggerating. I have watched the kid traveling with you several times yesterday. He is less of a threat to me with a gun than you are without one. That is why I talk to you, not him.”

  “What do you want?” she asked.

  “You have put me in a delicate spot. You saved my life by warning me about the shooting star last night. I was able to find shelter when the fireball lit up the sky. It reminded me of the Chelyabinsk meteorite back in my home country. I would have been dead if I stayed out in the open.”

  It ripped her conscience in half to hear him thank her for keeping him alive. She’d told him about the meteorite as an effort at delaying him until she could use the bear spray. At the time, it had nothing to do with saving his life, and much to do with saving her own.

  “I saved your life twice, actually. I took your gun and could have shot you in the head before we went to our shelter.”

  Misha smiled sympathetically; a distant rumble of thunder sounded at the same time. “You are not a killer. Murdering a man is not in your blood. You are not soft like your boyfriend, but you are a typical American woman.”

  She wanted to yell and scream and tell him how wrong he was, but his gun was trained on her. Still, she couldn’t let him toss the accusation without a minimum of pushback. “I would have had a good reason; you killed that police officer in cold blood.”

  “Did he die? I was not trying to kill him. I had no desire to involve others. If you would not have brought him into our game, he would still be unhurt. My only targets are you and Mr. Creighton.”

  There was an element of truth to his statement; it was her fault for trying to get the officer to help. She couldn’t say for sure he was dead, though he certainly looked as if he was severely injured. However, Misha was the one who pulled the trigger, not her. Grace took a few steps back and forth to warm up, giving her time to think of a measured response.

  “Why do you have to kill anyone at all? Let us go down this mountain and get on with our lives. In case you haven’t noticed, the world has gone to pot.”

  His face went slack, as if thinking about her offer. A few moments later, he recovered. “I am afraid it is not that easy. My boss wants you both out of the picture—”

  “Why?” she pressed.

  “Does not matter!” he snapped.

  Grace’s meowing ringtone cried out, startling her. She reached in her pocket and yanked out the device, intending to answer it, when Misha shifted anxiously on the back seat until he sat up straight. He aimed the gun at her hand, speaking again without using words.

  “This could be my dad,” she said worriedly.

  “No. You cannot talk to anyone. If you do, this little ongoing discussion we have here, it will move into a more, how you say, bloody form of persuasion.”

  The cat’s meow got louder with each ring, sparking a what-am-I-dealing-with head shake from the injured man. In the back of her mind, she thought it was probably a bit childish to keep the cat sounds, but she’d always wanted a cat, an animal she was prohibited from owning inside the national park. She tilted the phone to see the Kentucky area code. It had to be her mom and dad trying to reach her. Their voices were so close…

  Misha went on, actually sounding interested in convincing her on the merits of his request. “Listen, I owe you one for saving my life—”

  “Twice,” she reminded him.

  He smiled. “Twice. But I am telling you right now, if anyone outside of this little group of lost drivers finds out you are still alive, more people are going to die.”

  “You don’t give up, do you? What’s your plan? Kill everyone on this mountain?” He’d been shooting at them in Mammoth Hot Springs and in the crowded visitor village; she was well aware the man had no hesitation endangering others, so it was risky to suggest it.

  The gunman shrugged, which seemed to cause him pain on his burned neck and arm. Grace took a tiny bit of pleasure in seeing him hurt, especially after recalling how he’d killed the officer.

  She held up her phone, so the speaker pointed at him, as if it were the cat complaining about his interference, not her. The meow became obnoxiously loud as it reached the last ring.

  “I have hard time believing you two are threat to TKM. I would shoot my own mobile if I had to listen to that cat,” he lamented.

  “We’re not threats!” she replied excitedly. “And these rings serve a useful purpose. They help me hear the incoming calls without using big-city noises while I’m in the wilderness,” she explained. “It’s not supposed to get to these loud ones…”

  “Still, I must take it off your hands,” he said in an ominous voice, holding out a hand.

  She thought about running, or tossing the phone, or calling for help, or furth
er pleading her case. Anything to avoid surrendering it. Then she noticed he had the barrel of his gun trained on her NPS badge. One shot and she’d be dead…

  “You aren’t going to shoot it, are you?” she asked, defeated.

  He shook his head. “I said I would shoot my mobile. Not yours.”

  “Please don’t lose it,” she went on, handing it over, praying his intention wasn’t to destroy it another way. “It’s my only link to my mom and dad.”

  The phone rang again, starting the ascending cat meow sequence a second time. Someone really needed to speak with her. He glared at the whiny phone like it was a kitty cat that had pooped in his hand. The look did not inspire confidence she’d ever get to answer it again.

  Land Between the Lakes, KY

  Ezra was disappointed to hear his call go to voicemail, but he made a snap decision to leave a message at the beep. “Hiya, Grace. It’s me. I was really hoping I’d catch up with you, rather than talking to your machine, but you know Mom and I don’t have cell phones, so I’ve borrowed this one from a friend. All I wanted to say is…”

  Should he tell her about Susan on a recording? It seemed like a low blow.

  “All I wanted to say was, thanks to your warning, we got to safety last night. It passed overhead, heading to the south, I think. Anyway…your mother and I love you very much. Please be safe wherever you are. I’m on the way to you right this second.”

  Again, he thought about telling her the truth, but the words wouldn’t come out.

  “I’ll talk to you as soon as I can. Love you.”

  Ezra hung up the phone and immediately felt he’d let his daughter down. There was no telling how long it would be before he found a direct connection to her. Instead of saying what needed said, he acted like everything was all right.

  He looked sheepishly at Colby, who stood about ten feet away. “Do you mind if I call her back? I forgot to tell her something important.”