“Wow. People must really be desperate to try to cross over the pass when it’s like this.”
She sat there in silence for a few moments, wondering if he saw anything ironic about his statement. Finally, she had to reply with a stressed chuckle. “Are you serious? What about us? We’re pretty desperate.”
He nodded. “Yeah, but we were already on the mountain when the snow got really bad. Anyone coming up after us must have seen how much snow is up here. They would have been smarter to turn around and try to leave the park some other way. Even walking out would be safer.”
Grace cracked up. “You mean like how you walked into the park through a forest fire? That kind of safe?”
He laughed, too. “I didn’t say I, personally, could walk out, but the rest of them probably could. Aren’t park visitors mostly ready for long walks? Wouldn’t they be in good shape when they come to Yellowstone?”
“Oh, man, you have a lot to learn about being a park ranger. I see people out on remote trails in near-freezing temps with T-shirts, flip-flops, and not a drop of water with them. Then they seem surprised when I tell them to go back to the trailhead immediately.” She didn’t want to point a finger at him, but it was hard to dance around it; he was one of those unprepared people. “Some visitors come here without a clue what it means to be away from civilization.”
The shared good-natured laughter warmed her spirit until she came to the next right-hand switchback. A wrecked car burned on the outside shoulder of the road, close to the guard rail. She stopped the truck, feeling like a tour guide on a grisly tour of mountainous death traps. “I have to check this out.”
“I’m with you,” Asher replied, pushing his squeaky door open. Wind rushed through the front seating area; the smell of burnt rubber and gasoline came with it. “Though I already don’t like the looks of this.”
They met in the Suburban’s headlights, but she had to wait for a rumble of thunder to die down before she replied. “I don’t, either, but I have to know if this is one of ours.”
Her first impression of the wreck was that the car was struck by a tractor-trailer. She’d seen a similar crash not long ago. One of her grisly duties of the summer had been directing traffic around a highway accident—a big truck slammed into a parked car. Fortunately, the owners were outside taking pictures of a bison herd. Their vehicle was crushed into a small block of steel.
“This thing fell from up there.” She couldn’t help but look up, though it was impossible to see even a hint of light from the sky, the sun, or anything else.
“It wasn’t one of ours,” Asher reassured her.
She turned her attention back to the vehicle. “How can you tell?”
“No ropes on the tires.”
“Duh,” she said dryly. “I’m not thinking as clearly as I should.”
“Neither of us got much sleep,” he agreed.
Grace walked through the thick snow until she was at the edge of the road, looking into the valley. There were several small fires burning a hundred feet below; cars and trucks that had fallen the same way as the one on the pavement. The black snow made them seem a thousand miles away, but a lone surviving headlight beamed on a second wreck, giving away the disaster.
“Oh, crap,” she said with a start. “We have to get moving!”
She shuffled through the snow, back toward the truck. Some of the following drivers had gotten out and were walking her way, as if to survey the wreck, too.
“Go back to your cars!” she shouted.
“What did you see?” Asher replied, acting as if he was trying to decide to look over the edge or go back to the truck as ordered.
The people were properly worried; they all spun around and returned to their vehicles. By the time she and Asher were inside theirs, he seemed desperate for her to explain the rush.
“This is where we would have struck if we’d gone over the cliff higher up on the mountain.” She put the truck in gear once more and rolled around the sharp turn as fast as she dared. When safely away from the car fire, and on the next stretch of the Z-shaped road, she looked to make sure everyone was on the move. Also, she had to be sure no more cars fell from the darkened sky.
Ahead, the snow seemed deeper than it was even before the last turn. She figured it was up to the bottom of her bumper; small piles of it fell to each side as the truck pushed through. The following cars would likely have to drive in her ruts, which led her to make another twisted connection.
If I drive off the next curve, the whole convoy will probably follow me.
Land Between the Lakes, KY
Ezra sped up when he recognized they were almost back to Colby and the Jeepers. He got alongside the two ladies at the front and waved them over. “I want to check something out!” he shouted over the engine noise.
They followed him as he returned to the small bay with the capsized towboat. In the two hours or so it took them to pick through the fallen trees and muddy trail on the journey from the ruined bridge, he’d been thinking about what to do next. He and Butch had been trusted to get the women to their home and there was now only one bridge available. He’d considered riding the bikes over the bridge and turning north, toward his subdivision, but that would be far out of the way for the women, who were going south. The dirt bikes’ range was limited, too, so he worried if it would be possible to find more gas if they went north. His workaround plan was built on what he remembered seeing on the towboat.
Ezra pointed out into the bay. “Yep, I was right. This barge tug has a johnboat attached to it.”
Butch straddled his bike next to Ezra, towering over the machine. “Yeah, what’s your point E-Z? Going to do some fishing? I like your thinking, don’t get me wrong. I’d love to catch dinner today.”
“No. We need a working boat to cross the lake.”
Butch got in closer so the women wouldn’t hear. “Are we ditching the ladies? ’Cause I don’t think I could do that.”
He chuckled, glad to hear those words. “No, quite the opposite, in fact. I’ll explain when we get back to Colby and the others.” He turned to Mary. “We’re ready. I’m going to get you guys home, I promise.”
The women had been a lot less chatty on the way back from the bridge than they’d been on the ride out. Mary’s face brightened inside her helmet after he’d said those words.
When they returned to the Jeepers’ camp, Colby and the other men were understandably confused to see them, but he jumped off his bike and got right to the debriefing. “The bridge was out. It’s just like what we saw at the Kentucky Lake dam; all that junk floating out in the lake is piling up in front of anything blocking the flow of water. Some big barges struck the bridge and weakened it to the point it fell.”
Colby shook his head in sadness. “What do we do now? Walk home?”
“I’ve had a lot of time to think,” Ezra replied, doing his best to sound upbeat. “If you’re willing to trust Butch and me a bit more, I’ve found a boat we can use to cross the lake and get behind the men blocking the road. When the women come across the Egger’s Ferry Bridge and run into the roadblock, Butch and I will be there to make sure they get through.”
“It sounds dangerous,” Colby complained.
Ezra scratched his neck; some flecks of mud had dried there and itched like crazy. “I’ve been thinking about that, too. Those men at the roadblock are controlling a major north-south artery in the region. Now, I’m all supportive of the right of homeowners to block off their subdivision for protection, but it isn’t right how they’ve effectively made themselves into the state police. Besides, I have no interest in hurting anyone. All I want to do is make them see the error of their ways.”
He looked down at his shirt and pants, dismayed at how much mud the dirt bikes had plastered all over his body. The ladies could at least unzip out of their riding jumpsuits; he’d have to hop in the lake to clean the mud away.
Colby turned to his friend Scott. “What do you think?”
Scott gestured to
the ladies. “It’s up to them. I don’t mind hoofing it out of here, but I would prefer they get home before us. If those men are really blocking a public highway, then I think they’re in the wrong. We’d be doing Western Kentucky a favor by brushing them off the plate.”
Mary and Jean shared a confused look, before Jean spoke. “Brush them off the plate? Is that a food joke?”
Scott laughed. “No, you dingbat, it’s a baseball term. How many years have we been watching my Cubbies? And you’ve never heard of it?”
She smiled sheepishly.
He went on. “As a pitcher you throw a baseball directly at a batter. Not to hurt them, but to get them to back away from home plate.”
Jean nodded as if she understood.
Mary spoke to Ezra. “So, we’d meet at the roadblock, you guys would brush them off, then you’d get on our bikes. We’d all go back to Murray as planned?”
Ezra tried to sound reassuring. “As long as the johnboat is operational, and it has enough gas to go two miles across the lake, there should be no problems. I’ve seen the roadblock; there’s a few men with guns. We’ll get behind them and disarm the guys without firing a shot.” He glanced over to Butch, hoping for confirmation about how easy it would be. Meanwhile, Butch seemed uncharacteristically non-committal. Almost like he knew it wouldn’t be so easy.
Butch’s attitude made him hedge his bets. “I know there are a lot of things that could go wrong, but this is a plan based on the best available intel. If you want to get to your home so help can come back for you, I think this is a reasonable plan to make it happen.”
Butch seemed to relax a bit, leading Ezra to speculate he’d done the right thing by softening his promise.
Colby and the others talked about it for a few minutes, but Ezra figured out quickly they were going to do it. In the end, there were no better alternatives.
In the air at the Mexican-US border
Petteri looked up from his tablet when a voice came on the transport plane’s intercom. “This is the captain; we’re crossing into US airspace. We should be in Denver in about two hours.”
“Howard, have we had any trouble with the authorities of either country?”
His trusted lieutenant sat a few rows ahead of him; he hated having anyone sit behind him whenever he could help it. The small section of seats set behind the flight deck had been turned into his team’s workspace. The man stood up and looked back. “No. The transport wasn’t asked to give out our flight plan. The entire aviation system in North America seems to be down.”
“But planes are still flying, correct? We aren’t going to get shot down?”
“There are lots of planes in the air, as best I can tell, but other than a few airports on the coasts, most of us are flying with visual flight rules. The area control centers are offline as well.”
“Which means?” he replied gruffly.
“The centers are how we’re tracked between airports. If they aren’t requesting information from us, it means they’re down. We’ll have to see if Denver International is offline, but at this point I think they are.”
“So, we have a window of opportunity here,” he said with recognition. “Tell the team in Mexico City to get their contingent airborne as soon as they’re able. If we have no one keeping track, I want to move up our timetable. Dorothy is working with our remaining flight ops teams to locate the most valuable locations for mining. If we time it right, we can have the teams in the air when she tells us where to send them.”
Dorothy was a few rows ahead, though he didn’t want to disturb her yet. She’d directed them to the biggest asteroid piece in Denver, and now she was working out where the other fragments dropped. He’d also tasked her with learning more about the impact in the Yellowstone area. She had another half hour before he pressed her for some answers.
Howard fell back into his seat, hurriedly executing the boss’s orders. Everything was going remarkably well. Even the text alerts announcing news stories with his company’s name had been almost completely positive. The video feed showing the loading of rice and recovery vehicles back at Isla Socorro was being broadcast on all the big networks.
Petteri peered out his private window, trying to look north toward where he was going. Big black clouds peppered the horizon in that direction.
“We’re going to survive this,” he whispered.
Chapter 17
Beartooth Pass, WY
Grace nervously drove the straight section of road until she reached the next switchback. The road turned left around a sharp curve, before heading farther down the mountain. She navigated through, but the next straightaway hugging the steep mountainside was a good place to use the CB. She was dying to know if Tessa and Chester were doing all right. Not only were they responsible for watching over the rear of the convoy, they had a killer on board.
“Tessa, this is Grace. You listening? Come in.”
They’d traveled a fair way down the mountainside. She knew that even without being able to see more than a hundred feet up and down. The convoy had gone around four or five switchbacks, bringing them a good way lower in elevation. What she couldn’t figure out was why the snow kept increasing.
“This is Tess. We’ve got some issues back here. Cars are having trouble with the deep snow, even with the rope trick. I’ve even nudged a few to get them moving again. My bumper probably looks like a pretzel.”
Grace laughed. “You should see mine. It’s hanging off the front of my truck.” She went on like the next topic was no big deal. “I wanted to check on your passenger. How are his wounds?”
“Oh, much better, I think. He isn’t here right now, or I’d ask him.”
She pressed the mic button immediately, panic in her veins. “He’s not there? Where’d he go?”
Tessa waited about ten seconds, which spiked Grace’s fear response even further, until the woman spoke. “A guy got stuck a few turns back. He got out to help, then stayed with them, I think. Hey, what’s this burning car? It looks like it fell from above.”
The two other rangers had made it to the turn where she’d gotten out to look over the edge. That meant most of the convoy already made it through without other cars dropping on them. Her concern went elsewhere.
“Tessa. Chester. Listen. That man was the guy who wanted to kill us yesterday. Those burns were from when Asher and I fought him off. He threatened to shoot you in the back if I didn’t get you two out of the truck when we were stopped at the pass!” Her breathing became labored and fast as anxiety percolated to the surface. She’d already been white-knuckle driving down the mountain, but losing Misha seemed a lot more dangerous.
“But you and he talked so nice. Are you sure it was him? He had nothing but good things to say about you while we came down the hill. He was even glad to help out with the ropes around the tires.”
It didn’t surprise her they were doubtful. The man was obviously skilled at manipulating people. She checked over her shoulder, looking at the opening where a door should have been. The truck was moving so slowly someone could jog along next to them and hop inside. There would be nothing she could do to prevent it. “I’ll get back to you,” she replied, hanging up the CB microphone.
Grace gave the truck some more gas, out of fear someone would catch up.
“Whoa! Too fast!” Asher held on to his armrest like he was going to blow out the window.
“Dang it,” she replied, slowing back down. “That maniac is out there. He could be in the car behind us. It doesn’t make any—”
Ahead, another switchback turned to the right, but it was obviously the last one at the bottom of the valley. The landscape around the road had a few pine trees, signaling they’d come out of the higher, treeless elevation. She also saw the creek running in the middle of the V-shaped valley. It was the same area of wrecked cars she’d seen from above. The lone headlight shone nearby.
“Jeez. Look at them all.” She pointed to the creek. A quick count of black smudges gave her evidence of at
least twenty cars. One of the closest wrecks was the red sports car that had passed her back before Gardner Canyon. She also caught a glint of chrome from the wheel of a white SUV. It was someone she’d seen, too. “These were people I rescued from the tourist village. The red car left us in its dust. That white one was the first guy we stopped back at the intersection. He was in such a hurry.”
She didn’t dare stop. The white pieces of an RV were strewn in the black snow alongside the road near the curve. The rear of it had exploded like a popping balloon, but the front part was intact; it was the vehicle with one headlight still on. It was terrible to imagine how it fell from the pass and broke apart on impact. Even worse, she’d probably seen it earlier in the day. It might even have been the one that had sped by while she was stopped on the pass…
“You can’t blame yourself, Grace. Those people had a choice to make, and they chose to go it alone. It’s all the people behind us you have to think about. You’ve helped them get through this nightmare in one piece. Look. We’re down the mountain.” He pointed outside to the creek.
She tapped her front pocket, forgetting for a second Misha stole her phone. Asher was right, of course. She couldn’t blame herself about cars falling off the mountain. She could blame herself for not doing everything she could to get her phone back. If they were out of the proverbial woods of the mountain pass, it was time to stop reacting to the hitman and start acting like she was going to save herself. Her dad would demand nothing less.
“The second we get to a town, I’m going to find a police station. Wherever he is in our line, we’ve got to get that maniac off the road for good.”
Land Between the Lakes, KY
Ezra won the rock-paper-scissors to see who would swim out to the half-sunken tug to retrieve the johnboat. After losing, Butch seemed to take it with good grace. “Care to go two out of three?”
Impact Series Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 33
