“You said hide ‘a while.’ How long is a while? I need to get home to my family,” Wiggins said.
“Which won’t happen if these guys find you,” Tremble said. “We have to lay low several days at least.”
“How long do you think we have to find a place to hole up?” Tex asked.
“I’d say that depends on whether our friend George is able to lead them on a merry chase in the opposite direction,” Tremble said.
Presidential Quarters
Camp David, Maryland
Day 17, 9:40 a.m.
Gleason saw the number on the caller ID and snatched up the buzzing phone.
“It’s about damn time, Crawford. You were supposed to call me hours ago, so you better have good news.”
Crawford’s hesitation told him all that needed saying.
“DON’T FRIGGIN’ TELL ME HE GOT AWAY!”
“It … it’s only a temporary setback, Mr. President. We have teams on them and—”
“You had a team on them at the butt crack of dawn! What the hell happened?”
“The first team did apprehend them and were bringing them in. With them in custody, we stood down the rest of the search, figuring it was best to try to keep the operation as low key as possible—”
“So how did we get from ‘in custody’ to ‘we don’t have them’?”
“I’m afraid the Trembles are proving more … resourceful than we’d anticipated. They managed to kill one of the team members and the other is missing—”
“Missing? What the hell do you mean missing? So Tremble is a friggin’ magician now?”
“I mean neither he nor his body are anywhere to be found. We’re beginning to suspect he may be in league with Tremble and—”
Gleason erupted, heaping obscenities and abuse on Crawford for a full minute, only stopping when he ran out of bile and began to repeat himself. The silence grew until Gleason himself broke it, calmer now.
“All right, what are you doing to recapture them?”
“We have a chopper up with infrared telemetry, searching likely areas, as well as search teams working both north and south on the Appalachian Trail. They don’t have a vehicle—”
“That you know of,” Gleason said.
“That’s correct, Mr. President, but there are few roads in the area and less vehicle traffic due to the fuel shortage. I’m confident they’re still afoot, and if they break the cover of the woods, we’ll be on them in a heartbeat. We’ve already contained them by putting up roadblocks on the few roads into and out of the search area. It is a bit of a needle in a haystack, but they most assuredly are trapped in the haystack.”
“All right, that’s something anyway. Tremble can wander around the woods like Moses in the damned wilderness for all I care, as long as he doesn’t get a chance to communicate what he knows. Thank God he hasn’t been in contact with anyone else.”
Silence.
“He HASN’T been in contact with anyone else HAS he?”
“There is … some evidence he may have been in contact with an unidentified hiker—”
“Christ on a crutch, Crawford—”
“But we’re handling it, Mr. President. We’re treating anyone we find in or exiting the search area as a potential witness.”
Gleason sighed. “All right. That sounds like all we can do at the moment, but prioritize the search. Keep your roadblocks and containment efforts in place until we recapture or terminate them, but focus your search to the south. They’ll be trying to get home to North Carolina, where Tremble has family and a network of personal contacts. And he may not be a spring chicken, but he has had all that snake-eater evasion and escape training, so his best shot is probably staying in the woods anyway. I want you covering the trails south like a blanket, is that understood?”
“Yes, Mr. President. I won’t fail you.”
“You’ve already failed me, Crawford, and if you do it again, you’re going to get to enjoy the ‘fugee camp experience, up close and personal. We might even let your new neighbors know you’re the architect of their lavish lifestyle.”
Gleason hung up before Crawford could respond.
Hughes’ Residence
Pecan Grove
Oleander, Texas
Day 17, 1:00 p.m.
Laura Hughes sat at the dining room table, struggling to deal with the flood of emotions washing over her as she clutched her husband’s hand: relief, unbridled joy—and anger. He sat beside her, dealing with emotions of his own, as their twin daughters crowded round, standing at each shoulder with the whole family touching as if to assure themselves they were indeed, all together and safe once again.
“Jordan Hughes, whatever were you thinking, roaring up through the pasture like that? I almost killed you.” She could hear the tremor in her own voice and knew she was near an emotional breakdown.
Jordan reached over and pulled her to him in a fierce hug. “But you didn’t and that’s all that matters. And I was thinking we needed to stay off the roads, but in hindsight we should have stopped well out and sounded the horn and gotten out. I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I was so concerned about getting home to you and the girls I never gave a thought to how roaring up unannounced and unexpected would look from your side.” He flashed the lopsided grin she loved. “Besides, I’m still learning the finer points of this ‘end of the world’ stuff.”
She hugged him back then pulled away and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Well, you’re home now, so it’s all good.” She looked over to where Kinsey and his two men stood, staying politely out of the way while the family reconnected. “And where are my manners? Chief Kinsey, it’s past lunchtime and I expect you and your men could do with something to eat. We normally just have a cold lunch in this heat, if that’s okay. The girls and I will put together some sandwiches, and we’ve all the iced tea you can drink.”
“That sounds great, ma’am,” Kinsey said, “but don’t go to any trouble.”
“It’s the least I can do for y’all helping Jordan get home. We have plenty of food AND room, so y’all are free to stay as long as you like. As a matter of fact, given how things are, having some more men about would be reassuring.”
Kinsey said nothing but shot a knowing look at Hughes. Laura followed the silent exchange then focused on her husband.
“What was that look about?”
“Ah, Laura, I can’t stay. I’ve got Pecos Trader anchored in the river with a lot of folk on board I’m responsible for—”
“What do you mean you can’t stay, Jordan! You can’t leave us—”
“I have absolutely no intention of leaving you, honey. We came to get you and the girls and take you back to the ship. We have plenty of stores there, and it will be a safe place to stay until we figure out what we’re going to do.”
“What do you mean, what we’re going to do? We’re going to stay here, of course. We have plenty here, and with the garden and the generator keeping the freezer going and the pantry, we can just stay here until they get the power restored and things get back to normal.”
Hughes fell silent and exchanged another look with Kinsey.
“That’s just it, Laura, the power’s not coming back on, at least for a long, long time—years, not months. And things … things might never get back to normal, at least what we used to think of as normal.”
Laura shook her head. “We’ve been without power longer than this after hurricanes. It’s just going to take a while, that’s all.”
“No, babe,” Hughes said gently, “it’s not like that, because the power’s down everywhere, and there are no spares to fix the problem. I don’t fully understand it all myself, but I’ve seen enough to know we’re not recovering from this anytime soon. Have you seen any linemen working anywhere or picked up any television signal at all when you have the power on?”
“No, but that doesn’t mean—”
“Yes, I’m afraid it does. And it’s only been three weeks, so things are going to g
et a whole lot worse. We probably can’t imagine how bad it’s going to get. I need to know you and the girls are safe, or at least as safe as I can make you.”
Laura’s face hardened. “Jordan Hughes, counting the girls, my family has lived at Pecan Grove for six generations, and I’ll be damned if I’m abandoning it to let it be overrun by a bunch of looters! I’m staying right here!”
“Ah, Captain, I think me and the boys are going outside to do a security check on the perimeter while you folks discuss this,” Kinsey said, then exited the room when Hughes nodded.
Hughes turned back to his wife and gave an exasperated sigh before running his hands through his hair. “Honey, even if I could justify abandoning the ship and the people on it—”
“It’s a JOB, Jordan, it’s not some holy mission. And your family should come first!”
“You DO come first, which is why y’all need to come back to the ship. It’s safer there, and this place is practically impossible to defend, even if I stay—”
Laura glared at him. “We’ve done okay so far.”
Both the twins nodded emphatically. “Mom’s right, Dad,” Jana said. “When the fake cops came—”
“What fake cops? What are you talking about?”
Laura suddenly looked less sure of herself. “We … we had some trouble yesterday. Some men came, dressed like sheriff’s deputies, but I’m pretty sure they were convicts. They had a lot of tattoos.”
Shaken, Hughes dragged the story out of her, including the less than successful attempt at sinking the car.
When she finished, he sat shaking his head, stunned at how close his family had come to tragedy.
“That clinches it, Laura, we HAVE to leave now. If those guys radioed in your location before they rolled in here, or if any of their buddies knew where they were headed and come looking for them, this is the first place they’ll look. The pecan grove rising out of this flat pastureland draws in people like a magnet and you know it. If you won’t think of yourself, at least think of the girls.”
“Maybe that was just an isolated thing,” she said, uncertainty in her voice.
“No way,” Hughes responded. “We ran into fake cops in Port Arthur on our way in, also with skinhead tattoos—two times isn’t a coincidence. If they’re riding around unmolested in police uniforms and cruisers, I’m guessing it means there’s no one left to challenge them. They’ll be here sooner or later. You can count on it, and we can’t be here when they come.”
“But what about the food and supplies, and the garden, and the horses … someone has to feed the horses.”
“We have plenty of food and supplies on the ship, at least for now. We’ll gather up all the long-life supplies and make a hidden cache somewhere, just in case we ever have to leave the ship. We’ll shut down the generator and hide it as well, and take anything frozen or refrigerated to the ship. And we can turn the horses out in the pasture, there’s plenty of grazing here, and they can drink from the pond.”
Laura looked around the room, no doubt grieving for over a century of pictures and family heirlooms she would have to abandon. Finally she seemed to steel herself and nod.
“You’re right. Things can be replaced, but family can’t. All we need to survive is each other, because if we don’t have that, nothing else matters anyway. When do you want to leave?”
Hughes looked at his watch. “Sunset’s around eight, and I’d like to be back on board before full dark. I figure to leave an hour and a half travel time, just in case we run into trouble. That gives us five hours to pack and get out of here. Can you make that?”
Laura stood. “We can do anything we have to do, but we won’t be serving lunch. I’ll throw some cold cuts and fresh baked bread on the kitchen counter and people can help themselves when they take a break. Come on, girls, I want to get up in the attic and start dumping out some of the plastic storage tubs we have up there. We can use them to cache the nonperishable stuff. And if we have time, I want to hide family pictures and other stuff up there in the attic. If we take the rope off the pull-down stairway and pin it closed with a dozen wood screws, it might discourage looters, the lazy ones, anyway.”
“Good idea,” Hughes said, “I’ll go get the Coasties to help us.”
***
Four hours later, Hughes stood in the barn, surveying the large circular hay bales stacked against one wall. There was a carefully constructed gap in the stack, a bit over three feet wide and bridged over by an inch-thick sheet of plywood resting on top of the first tier of hay bales, a quickly constructed hiding place for not only their generator, but stacks of plastic tubs containing all their nonperishable food.
“Whadda ya think?” he asked.
Laura examined the hastily improvised cache with a critical eye, then nodded.
“I think it will work, and it’s a lot better than burying the stuff. Wet as the ground can get around here, I’d worry about the seal on the tubs anyway, and fresh dirt would probably be a dead giveaway. Those round bales weigh a thousand pounds each, and when you bury our cache under a couple of more rows of those, no one’s getting at it.”
“I agree, “Kinsey said, “though playing the devil’s advocate, what if someone just cranks up the tractor and starts moving bales. I know it’s unlikely, but still …”
Hughes stroked his chin, then nodded. “Good point. When I finish stacking the bales, I’ll pull all the tractor spark plugs and fuses and hide them under the loose hay up in the hay loft. I’d just as soon not make it easy for someone to steal the tractor anyway. And since that’s going to add a few minutes, I’d better get moving. Is everything else all ready, hon?”
“Just about,” Laura said. “We have a few more things to load; then I’ll feed the horses for the last time and turn them out to pasture. Maybe half an hour or forty-five minutes.”
Hughes nodded and crawled on the tractor, to run the hay spear into a big circular hay bale to begin covering their cache.
Boyd’s Bayou Bridge
Near Pecan Grove
Oleander, Texas
6:00 p.m.
“It’s their car all right, Snag,” said the man into the radio.
“Did the idiots just run off the road, or does it look like they got hit? Over.”
“Well, how the hell should I know? All we can see is the damned trunk lid. Over.”
“Are there skid marks? Is the guardrail busted? Does it look like they tried to stop? USE YOUR GODDAMNED EYES! Over.”
The man raised the radio again. “Ahh … none of that. Looks like it just rolled into the water. But like I said, we can’t see nothin’ but the trunk lid. If you want us to check it out better, we need a wrecker to pull the car out of the water. Over.”
“I ain’t wastin’ time and gas to send a wrecker out there. We’re losin’ daylight, and if we don’t get to the bottom of this quick, Spike’s gonna be pissed. Now one of y’all strip down and drag the bodies out. And do it fast. Do you copy? Over.”
The man cursed under his breath before responding. “We copy, Snag. This is Unit Seven, out,” he said, then turned to his partner. “You heard him. Strip down and go check out the car.”
“He was talkin’ to you, not me. I ain’t going in there, it’s probably full of snakes and gators.”
“He told me, and now I’m telling you, strip down!”
“You’re not the boss just ‘cause you’re running the radio, Bolton. I say we flip for it, and if you don’t like that, you can just kiss my ass and do it yourself.”
Bolton considered for a moment, then reached for his door handle. “All right, let’s get out and flip. I’d rather take my chances with a snake than get Spike and Snag pissed at us.”
Five minutes later, Bolton’s head broke the murky water of the bayou, and he moved toward the bank, sputtering and cursing. “Ain’t a damn thing in the car, front or back.”
“Well, they gotta be somewhere. They couldn’t just fly off,” his partner called down from the bridge.
“Yeah, smartass, well, unless they’re in the trunk …” He paused as the logic of that possibility sank in. “Get the crowbar out of the back of the cruiser.”
The man did as requested and then scurried down the bank to the edge of the bayou to pass Bolton the crowbar. Bolton waded back over to the car and stood in waist-deep water, trying unsuccessfully to pry the trunk open before moving away to point at the trunk.
“Blow the hell out of the lock and latch area—empty your magazine—that should weaken it.”
His partner complied, and when the shooting stopped, Bolton waded back over with the crow bar and easily pried the trunk up to reveal the blood-soaked bodies of their former colleagues.
“Snag and Spike ain’t gonna like this,” Bolton said as he waded out of the water and started up the incline to their car, his partner close behind.
“This is Unit Seven to Central Dispatch, do you copy? Over,” he said into the mike.
“Seven, this is Dispatch. We copy. Over,” came Snag’s distinctive voice.
“Snag, we found Morgan’s and Juke’s bodies in the trunk of the cruiser. Somebody definitely took ‘em out. Over,” Bolton said.
A burst of obscenity came through the radio, followed by silence. Snag returned to the air a moment later.
“All right, we already got units working that way. We’ll have ‘em rally on you and start combing the area. I want to show them local yokels what happens when you mess with the law. Where are you exactly?”
Bolton looked at his partner and shrugged. “I don’t know exactly. The last good-size road we turned off of was Texas 124, but we been wandering around the back roads and they ain’t got no signs. I reckon we’re a good three or four miles off 124 now.”
“What’s a landmark on 124 where we could rally?”
Bolton thought a minute. “There’s some kind of old chemical plant or refinery. Looks like it was probably closed even before the blackout, but if you come down 124 from Beaumont, you can’t miss it. It’s on the right.”
Under a Tell-Tale Sky: Disruption - Book 1 Page 37
