Each nugget of chaos worked in his favor. The longer the American government remained frozen, the more time he had to shift resources around the broken country to seize the pieces of his asteroid. The lack of communication and unfettered chaos also made it possible to “help” a few PWI employees disappear without anyone asking any questions.
He hit the clicker again.
The scene was from a weather channel. It appeared national guard units were helping old people out of a retirement center. The chyron at the bottom of the screen said it was taking place in Connecticut. His heart leapt, knowing even a state far from the blast zone was so unsettled. It meant relief was still a long way away.
It gave him more than enough time, he figured, before he’d convert TKM from part of the problem back into part of the solution. Sure, he’d shoved a few trailers of supplies in the faces of the locals when appropriate, but that was mostly for show. It was a small degree of credibility added to his public perception ledger. When the world went back and tried to figure out who did what, they would see his company was the first one trying to get aid to those who needed it. It would make them less likely to scrutinize what he did in the messy middle of the disaster.
One last channel click brought him to a member of Congress standing in the hallway of some posh building. He wasn’t one of the officials in Petteri’s pocket, so he listened to see what the rest of the government was saying.
“I assure my constituents in Colorado, I’m doing everything I can to get a relief force to you, but there are a number of hurdles necessary to clear before we do. One, there are so many people affected all across the country, it is hard to find transportation. Commercial planes are still grounded. Military craft are in high demand. I’ve been told we have some new guidance coming down from Homeland Security. Once I hear what they have to say, I’ll be able to give you an estimate for when help will be sent to you. For now…all I can say, my fellow Coloradans, is you must shelter in place to stay safe, but help will be there soon.”
Petteri guffawed, knowing how wrong the senator was. However, he tempered his laugh a little and looked around the room, inviting his employees to share in his sense of humor. “How is it we were able to bring in relief supplies on almost the first day, and this guy can’t get any help here days later?”
The others figured out it was safe to laugh with him.
Outside, the loading of his dump trucks had resumed. He’d given permission, through Howard, to ignore the bodies of the dead PWI workers. If they got loaded onto trucks with the ore, it was unfortunate, but necessary. The only thing of importance was clearing the rock, so they could remove the hazardous asteroid from the city. That was what he told his workforce, anyway.
The truth was far more lucrative.
Chapter 19
Crow Agency, MT
“Wow. This is amazing.” Grace stood in front of what had become of her NPS Chevy Suburban. “I didn’t think anything like this was possible.”
Shawn Runs Hard draped his arm around his son’s shoulder, obviously proud of what his brother-in-law had done to ensure the truck would make it to Cheyenne. “Cal is the best repairman in Montana. If anyone could have done this in one hour, it was him.” He used his free arm to wave over a skinny man in brown coveralls. “May I present my miracle worker, Calvin Tames Horse.”
Calvin took a bow. “It’s been a challenge, but also an honor.”
“I’m blown away,” she gushed. “My dad is a mechanic, actually, but I’ve never seen him do a repair job like this.”
The truck’s body was still a mess. The sides looked like they’d been dragged along a rock-strewn path, and the hood and roof were pockmarked with small dents, as if they’d gone through the world’s most violent hailstorm. However, the front seat windows contained glass again, and there was a black replacement door for the one she’d lost. None of the windows in the cargo area were repaired, but the mechanic had installed a plywood partition behind the rear seats to effectively seal off the passenger compartment.
Asher went right to the glass pane next to the driver’s seat. “We would have been cruising in style through that snowstorm if we’d had these windows.”
“You drove through the snow with the way it was?” Logan said, impressed. “I was cold driving on the highway today.”
Grace puffed her chest. “Yeah, we’ve been through all kinds of nightmares with this old girl.”
Calvin banged on the hood. “Old? This girl isn’t old at all. She’s last year’s model. The engine was fine, so it didn’t take much time. I have a buddy who installs auto glass for a living. He drove down from Hardin and had them installed in record time. I used Lexan for the small window in the wooden bulkhead; it looks nice, but it scratches easily, so try to take care of it. Obviously, you can’t open it.”
He moved around to the replacement door, dragging Grace and the entourage with him. “This baby looks like garbage, I know. It’s not from the same model truck, so I had to cut and grind like crazy to stuff it in there, but it’s going to be better than having a huge hole for a door. You can cut it back out with an off-the-shelf grinder when you return to civilization.”
“Awesome,” Logan replied. “I was afraid of falling out the whole time we drove from Billings.”
She laughed, still in shock at how well they’d taken care of her. “You’ve made a believer out of me. I’m sure the park service will reimburse you for the door, windows, and your time.”
Calvin Tames Horse raised his hand. “Don’t forget the oil change, added tire pressure, and wiper fluid top-off.”
“That too,” she chuckled.
Chairman Runs Hard stepped forward. “Your arrival has resulted in millions of bucks for the Crow Nation. We might name a new school or town hall after you. But for today, if you get me to the airport, we’ll call this favor even.”
“And if we don’t get you there?” she asked, aware there were two sides to his statement.
“Then we’ll have bigger problems. If we can’t establish a credible claim in Washington, it will be up to us to defend it. I think we all know what happens when you get on the wrong side of Uncle Sam.”
She was no stranger to the history of the Native Americans, even if she didn’t know the specific background of the Crow tribe. His statement made sense in the context of wanting to do the right thing about the law, but she also heard what he was saying about defending it.
“Sir, do you have a flatbed trailer, like TKM was going to bring in? You could move the rock to a place of your choosing, so they, or the government, can’t come and take it.”
Shawn had a twinkle in his eye. “Don’t you worry about such things. It’s already been taken care of.”
Grace and Asher shared a knowing glance with each other. While they’d been patiently waiting for the truck to be done, Shawn and his people were probably overseeing the protection of their investment, as she’d suggested. It made sense as she thought it through. The leader of the tribe wouldn’t leave unless he knew the rock would be there when he got back.
She remembered one detail. “Warn your people to stay away from it, if possible. We think it might be radioactive. Test it, if you can.”
Shawn motioned to the rebuilt truck. “Saddle up, ma’am. I appreciate your concern; I’ll make sure no one gets hurt. I’m also taking some insurance on our trip, so we don’t get hurt.” He flashed a look to his brother-in-law, who quickly walked away.
“You get back to your mother,” Shawn said to his son. “These fine people are going to make sure I catch my plane. I’ll be back in a few days.”
Logan appeared surprised. “I was going to come with you. Can I at least take you to the airport? Now that I won’t fall out, it will be an easy trip.”
“No. Not this time. Our friends here aren’t going to be coming back this way, are you?” Shawn looked at her and Asher.
“We’re going to Denver to stay with his parents.” She absolutely didn’t want to take a kid. He’d turned o
ut to be less of a hassle than she’d imagined when he snuck aboard, and he’d been pivotal in getting her truck fixed, but it was time to say goodbye. “Sorry, Logan. We really wish you could come along. It’s been…well, I was going to say fun, but you know what I mean.”
The boy shook hands with her, then Asher. He appeared ready to speak again, but he quietly walked away. With him gone, she immediately turned back to Mr. Runs Hard. “Sir, we’d like to get moving. We don’t know what we’ll find out there, and it’s already past noon. I don’t know how far it is to Cheyenne, but I suspect we have several hours.”
“It’s a six-hour drive, yes. I only need one more thing.” He stood there for a few seconds, waiting for something to happen. A short time later, Calvin came out of a back room carrying an AR-15-type rifle and a backpack. “And, there it is. My insurance.”
In another world she would have asked why he needed a gun, but it had become commonplace. She would have thought less of him if he’d gotten in the truck expecting her and Asher to be his bodyguards. Grace chuckled at the idea of being anyone’s protector. It was easy to forget they were dressed in costumes. They weren’t National Park police, despite the uniforms, utility belts, and pistols.
“Whatever you don’t need, chuck it in the cargo area,” she advised, looking at Asher. She tossed her winter coat inside. It had been getting warmer all day, and it was at least fifty, though the hazy skies still weren’t back to normal. Shawn threw his pack through the back window, though he kept his rifle.
Calvin placed a twelve-pack of bottled water in the cargo area, then handed her a couple of foil-wrapped hot dogs. “These are from my store. We aren’t getting many customers and you two look like you haven’t eaten in days. It’s on the house.”
She drooled at the sight, thanking him profusely. The hot dog was gone by the time she’d gotten behind the wheel. Asher woofed his down, too. When Cal saw the spectacle, he ran in and got two more.
“For the road!” he said, handing them through the window.
“Thanks for everything,” she replied. Grace pulled out of the small repair shop, waved to Calvin Tames Horse and a few of his mechanic helpers, then got onto the interstate.
“Do you have music in this jalopy?” Shawn asked. Asher allowed him to sit in the front seat, and she agreed with the idea. He deserved the honor after all he’d done for them.
“I think so,” she replied. In all her months using the truck, she’d never tuned into the radio to listen to music. It even had a CD player, though she didn’t own any discs. “What kind of music do you like?”
Shawn laughed. “Got any Indian music? Bollywood? That sort of thing?”
She whipped her head toward him. “Are you serious?”
He laughed. “No. It’s another Indian joke. It goes with the Taj Mahal one. Don’t worry, I’m using them all up quickly, so you won’t hear them again.”
“So, what do you really like?” she pressed.
“Don’t tell my son this, but I like whatever music he listens to. I think it’s from the 1980s. I know it’s older, but I never asked him the band names. It has a good rhythm; much better than whatever nonsense they play on the radio stations in Billings. Even country music sounds bad these days.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said tentatively, punching buttons on the radio. Having the older man travel with her, a guy about the same age as Dad, made her sensitive to her mode of speech and rationale for everything she did. It was almost like he’d stepped into the role of father for this leg of the trip.
It’s going to be a long ride.
St. Louis, MO
“We’re sinking?” Butch gulped. “We’ve got to get to land!” He pointed, as if Ezra didn’t know which way to go.
“I think we can make it up the river. I’ll keep an eye on it.”
“An eye on it? What does that even mean?” Butch continued to smother his rifle between his hands.
Ezra glanced over, then reached out and patted his friend on the shoulder. “Relax. If it looks like we’re about to sink, I promise I’ll head for shore. Some bullets went into the pontoons below us. I think the left one is taking on water, but I didn’t want to worry you. We’re not in any danger yet. I was trying to be funny about it.”
“But we’re not at a hundred percent, right?”
He couldn’t argue the point, so he sat back in his seat like it was any other day on the water. “When I bought this vessel, they gave me a brochure full of pretty pictures of bikini babes frolicking on this model. Once I got past the eye candy, I noticed a boring picture of the aluminum construction of both pontoons. They each have compartments so they’re effectively a bunch of sealed chambers, rather than one long tube. It’s a lot like how the Titanic was designed.”
“Titanic? I’m not sure that’s the go-to example you should use. It sank!”
Ezra squirmed in his seat. “I remember the documentary. It was supposed to be unsinkable as a result of those compartments. Okay, here’s a better one. Imagine we have two submarines under us. When all the bulkheads are sealed, water can’t flood the whole sub if one part gets punctured. In our case, a compartment or two might fill up, but the rest of the sealed areas should keep us afloat.”
“I don’t like this.” Butch turned halfway around, searching for the pirate ship. “If you think we’re going down, it would be better to ditch the boat somewhere out of the way, so those guys don’t see us.”
“We aren’t going down. Sit back and enjoy the ride. We’ve got enough gas to get us to St. Louis, I’m sure of it. Once we’re there, we can go up the Missouri River. That should throw off our pursuit.”
“Unless they split up,” Butch commented, seemingly unimpressed with Ezra’s logic.
For the next hour and a half, they went upriver without incident. Every ten minutes or so he would convince himself the left pontoon was lower than the right, but he couldn’t definitively say it was punctured. When he wasn’t looking at the boat itself, he watched the trees and farmland go by on either side of the river. It was featureless and boring until they went under a giant red suspension bridge carrying an interstate.
“We’re almost to the city,” he warned, seeing factories and other buildings up ahead.
“Good,” Butch replied. “I’m kind of getting worried we’re the only people left alive up in this part of the world. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad we haven’t passed anyone on the river, but don’t you think it’s a little odd?”
“Yeah. We should have passed someone, flood or no flood. Even the bridge up there seems quiet.” A couple of cars and a truck passed overhead, but a normal afternoon should have seen a lot more vehicles on an Interstate so near a major urban center.
A few miles later, they did start to see people. At first, it was a fisherman or two standing on the Missouri side of the river. As they went on, more appeared along the bank until he guessed there were groups of fifty or sixty anglers. They stood anywhere along the rocky shore where they could get a line in the brown water.
“Why the heck is everyone out fishing today?” Butch asked.
Ezra thought about it for a short time. “Maybe they ran out of food. Most people don’t keep extra supplies. If traffic between cities is way down, shipments of food aren’t coming in. Maybe fishing is an easy way to eat, at least in the short term.”
As they went by, some folks waved in a good-natured way. Others made it clear they wanted his boat to come to shore.
“Hard pass, guys,” he said only loud enough for Butch to hear him. “There’s no way I’m getting mixed up with groups of desperate fishermen. Have you ever been to a bass fishing tournament? Those guys will run you over to beat you to their preferred fishing hole. I bet it’s as chaotic out there today.”
“I’m good staying in the boat,” Butch answered. “Unless it sinks. Then I want out.” The big man looked over before cracking up. “I know. I sound like a big baby, don’t I?”
“We’ve been shot at multiple times today. I
think you’d be messed up if something like that didn’t affect you.” He remembered gripping the wheel to hide his jitters. It hit him like a thunderclap; Butch had been manhandling his rifle for the same reason. In real life, near-death encounters even affected tough guys like Butch.
As they neared the Gateway Arch and downtown St. Louis, the number of fisherpeople dwindled to almost zero, but he didn’t think it was due to poorer fishing spots. Instead, the absence of people was a result of a dam-like wall of debris wedged between the pylons of a wide bridge across the river.
“That ain’t good,” he said dryly. It reminded him of the jumble of wind-tossed junk blocking the floodgates of the Kentucky dam. The huge blockage ahead of them was primarily made up of dozens of the long cargo barges typical of river traffic on the Mississippi. They’d become caught against the concrete legs of the bridge, acting as magnets for additional debris washed into the river by the dam breakages to the north. If a family of giant beavers had used metal instead of wood, they would have built a dam similar to what was blocking their path.
“Any ideas?” Butch asked.
He let off the gas.
“No.”
Chapter 20
Cheyenne, WY
The drive from Crow Agency to Cheyenne took all afternoon but was uneventful. If there was one overarching concern during their journey, it was the weather. To the west, it was dark and gloomy, as the winter storm responsible for making their trip over the Beartooth range such a disaster continued to smother those mountains. Smaller storms cropped up several times over those hours, dumping black rain and pounding the truck with obsidian-colored hail, but the sealed passenger compartment helped them drive on through. The skies cleared when they reached southeastern Wyoming, near Cheyenne.
Impact Series Box Set | Books 1-6 Page 55
