Raging Storm

by Vannetta Chapman

  “We won’t,” Max assured him.

  Garrett wished him a safe trip, and then he signaled for his son, Logan, to back up one of the trucks and allow them through.

  When they reached the main road, they began to see signs things had worsened.

  The first vehicle they passed was burned out with no sign of its occupants. The second wasn’t burned, but the car was riddled with bullet holes and the driver was slumped over the wheel. There was no need for Max to stop. It was plain enough that the man was dead.

  “Looks like a war zone.” Shelby glanced right, then left—right then left, as if she needed to scan for hijackers. She’d pulled out her notebook and pen and was jotting down a few notes, but she stopped when they reached Townsen Mills. Little more than a crossroads, it had once been a quaint place to stop and fill up the gas tank, grab a sandwich, and shop for antiques. Approaching from the north, they saw a minivan stranded in the middle of their lane. Max slowed to maneuver around it.

  “Maybe they broke down.”

  A string of belongings stretched away from the open door of the van and to the south of the vehicle—blue jeans, a child’s shirt, someone’s pajamas. Two hundred yards from the vehicle, a suitcase lay abandoned and empty.

  “They must have been running…running from someone.” Shelby leaned out her window.

  There was no sign of the van’s occupants.

  Everything on the east side of the road had burned. Smoke rose from collapsed dwellings, but still there was no sign of people. The few buildings that lined the road to the west had been deserted when they’d driven through the week before. Recently someone had taken a paintbrush and written across the front of the building in bold red strokes.

  “ ‘The end is near?’ ” Shelby sighed in disgust. “They could at least put something original if they’re going to bother with graffiti.”

  Smoke began to drift across the road. Shelby reached into the backseat, grabbed two T-shirts from the bag she had packed, and handed one to Max. He held it over his nose and mouth. Already his throat was scratchy, and visibility had dropped to less than five feet.

  Just when he wondered if they should stop or turn around, they crossed the river and drove out of the haze, the remnants of the fire giving way to a beautiful June morning.

  Max resettled the ball cap on his head. “I’m surprised at how quickly we descended into lawlessness.”

  “You are?”

  “What? You didn’t realize I was once an idealist?”

  “I’m the writer. I’m the one who succumbs to flights of fancy. You are the realist, the pragmatist.” She jerked a thumb toward the scene behind them as Max accelerated. “I thought you would have expected this.”

  But he hadn’t. He’d clung to the law, even when there was no way to enforce it. Less than three weeks since the flare, and already the area he’d grown up in looked like a setting for the latest blockbuster apocalyptic movie.

  Sunshine spilled across fields green with summer crops—hay and sorghum and corn, precious little corn. Occasionally, Max caught light reflecting off a windshield.

  “Lookouts,” Shelby murmured.

  “Guarding crops—more signs of the time.”

  They didn’t stop or even slow until they approached the north side of Abney.

  A billboard sign, riddled with bullet holes, hung haphazardly from a single support. “Welcome to Abney. Enjoy the Texas Hill Country.”

  And just beyond the sign, an even bigger roadblock crossed all five lanes of the road. Max stopped the Dodge, leaving the keys in the ignition.

  “Keep the rifle close.” But once he began walking toward the trucks, he recognized several of the men on patrol.

  “Josh.” He shook hands and gestured toward the reinforced roadblock—which now consisted of an eighteen-wheeler, a tractor, four trucks, and a flatbed. “Had trouble?”

  “A fair-sized group of men struck two nights ago. Frank Kelton was killed and two others injured.”

  Max stared toward the downtown area. Finally he shook his head. “Sorry to hear that. Frank was a good man.”

  Josh scratched at his face where he’d sprouted a full beard. “Perkins upped patrols after that.”

  “Makes sense.” Max glanced back at Shelby. “We’re just going through, on our way to Austin.”

  “Mayor wants to see you both first.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  Josh shrugged. “She left word. Guess she figured you’d come through eventually, on account of Carter.”

  “Look, we don’t have time to meet with Mayor Perkins. I’ll be happy to stop by on our way back—”

  “Can’t do it.” Josh was already signaling to one of the other men standing guard. “Get on the horn to the mayor. Tell her I’ll be by with Max in a few minutes. And get someone here to take my place.”

  “What’s this about, Josh?”

  “Think she told me?” Josh laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “I’m just a grunt and happy to be one. Anyone who mans a shift receives an extra portion of that week’s harvest.”

  “Harvest?”

  “Deer, hogs, dove—you name it.” He glanced at Shelby, who had joined them.

  “What’s this about?”

  “Josh was just explaining to me new procedures the mayor has implemented.”

  “She sends a hunting group out every day, and what they get, well, we can’t exactly keep it in the freezer. There’s a rotating schedule for folks to receive a portion of that day’s take, but if you work a shift your name goes on the schedule twice. My nephews are growing, and they need the meat.”

  “All right. We’ll go see Perkins.”

  “Why would we go see Perkins?” Shelby had again donned the baseball cap, and now she pulled it down to block out the sun.

  “Apparently she’s insisting we stop by.”

  “Wasn’t my idea,” Josh reminded them. “I’m just the messenger here.”

  “Got it. But Josh, remember that we are neighbors. I own a house three blocks over and so did Shelby before it was destroyed in the gas line explosion.”

  “We’re not the enemy here,” Shelby added. “We belong in Abney.”

  “Of course you do, which is the only reason I’m going to allow you to keep your weapons.” He walked away, leaving Max and Shelby impatiently waiting.

  “What can she possibly want with us?”

  “I’m not sure, but we don’t have time for this.”

  “Agreed.” She tapped her fingers against the thermos she was still holding. “Maybe we can sneak out the south side once he lets us through.”

  “Not a chance. He’s going to escort us.”

  Josh made a circular motion over his head, and someone manning the barricade jumped down and backed up the flatbed truck, leaving barely enough space for Max to squeeze the Dodge through.

  “They’re being careful,” Shelby muttered.

  “If they’re being this paranoid with someone they know, imagine how they treat strangers.”

  Once they were on the other side, Josh jumped into a small sedan and proceeded to lead them toward city hall.

  THREE

  Do they think we can’t find city hall?” Shelby scowled at the scene outside her window. “Or are they worried we’ll make a run for it?”

  “I know we’re in a hurry, but this could be important.”

  “Important? Finding insulin for Carter is important. This is bureaucracy at its worst.”

  “Perkins has been a good mayor, in spite of all that has happened. How about we listen to what she has to say? I promise you we’ll keep it short.”

  Everything about their situation grated on Shelby’s nerves. The notion that they’d been detained—that it was possible for the mayor to do so, Josh Hunter’s role as escort, and the fact that they were crawling along at twenty miles an hour. And all the while, the burden of Carter’s need, of what she and Max would have to do to fill it, pressed in on her heart like an ever-tightening vise.

&n
bsp; Then they passed the town’s only grocery store.

  Max let out a long, low whistle. A fire had taken out the majority of the structure. The roof was caved in, and the glass windows had apparently exploded out, as the parking area was littered with glass.

  The gas station, which sat at the far end of the property, appeared untouched, but now there were barricades around it and an officer sitting in a patrol car at the only entrance.

  “I barely recognize this place,” Shelby said.

  “It certainly doesn’t look like the town we grew up in.”

  The Sonic across the street had been looted, and most of the speakers, where you placed your order for a double cheeseburger or tater tots, had been ripped off their poles.

  “Why would someone do this? Why destroy our town?”

  “People are scared and some are angry. Those two things are never a good combination.”

  The furniture store where Shelby had bought her couch, the pharmacy where she’d purchased Carter’s insulin, even the bank where she’d made her last withdrawal had all taken a hit—shattered windows, doors busted in, and any contents looted. She thought she could make out bloodstains on the sidewalk in front of the Western store.

  Ten minutes after they’d left the barricade, they parked outside the mayor’s office. A guard checked them for weapons. Stepping back and raising his rifle, he said, “I’m going to need you to leave your handguns in the vehicle.”

  Shelby’s revolver was still in her backpack. Max’s semiautomatic was in a belt holster.

  Max glanced at Shelby, shrugged, and placed his Sig inside the center console. She did the same with her .22. After checking once more to confirm they didn’t have any type of weapon on their person, the guard nodded them toward the entrance to city hall, where an armed woman walked them to the mayor’s office.

  Nadine Perkins looked to Shelby as if she’d landed on her feet. She wore jeans and a freshly laundered Western shirt. Her long gray hair was pulled back with a clasp, and her face was devoid of makeup.

  “I apologize for interrupting your trip.”

  “Then why did you?” Shelby asked, not even attempting to hide her irritation.

  “Coffee?”

  “No.” Max begrudgingly sat in the chair she indicated. “We need to be on our way, Nadine. There’s a reason we left before sunrise.”

  They’d agreed before walking in the building that they would make this as short as possible. They needed to be on the road if they had any chance to be in Austin before the sun set.

  “I need your help.”

  “Any other time, we’d be happy to—”

  “No, Max. You’re going to hear me out. You’re both still technically residents of this town, and right now Abney needs you.”

  “My son needs me.” Shelby perched on the edge of her chair. “That’s our first priority at the moment.”

  “I understand your concern for Carter—”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t placate me. Tell us what you want so we can tell you no, and then we’re leaving.”

  Nadine didn’t look surprised or even upset by Shelby’s outburst. “These are terrible times, and I understand that you have to put the needs of your family first. But I have to put the needs of this town first, and I’m willing to trade gasoline for your help.”

  “We have plenty of—”

  “Hang on, Shelby. We could always use more fuel.” Max turned his attention back to the mayor. “If we could fill up our vehicle and the two gas cans we’re carrying on our return, we might agree to help.”

  “Of course.”

  “I know how limited your supplies are.”

  When Max glanced her way, Shelby glowered at him. She didn’t want to negotiate with this woman. She wanted to focus on their mission.

  Max was once again addressing Perkins. “This isn’t just a generous offer.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “What do you need?”

  “First of all, I’d like to help you both get the insulin you’re looking for. Carter can’t have more than a month’s worth—”

  “How do you know my son’s diabetic?”

  “You gave a presentation to the council when you were petitioning for needle boxes to be placed in public restrooms.”

  Shelby sank back into her chair. That had been years ago, and the mayor had remembered. Well, the woman was a politician at heart. Any information she could use, she filed away for a rainy day. The uncharitable thought pricked her heart. There had been a time when she’d assumed the best of people, but the flare had done more than change their world. It had changed her heart—making her jaded, suspicious. That wasn’t who she wanted to be, but she had no idea how to go back.

  Nadine cleared her throat, and then she asked, “You left a week ago?”

  Max nodded, walked over to the thermos, and poured them both a cup of coffee. He handed the mug to Shelby and said, “Might as well drink it if we’re going to have to be here a while.”

  “I should start by catching you up. You both know that fourteen were killed in the fight with Croghan.”

  “We were here when it happened.”

  “They were all Croghan residents?” Shelby gulped the coffee, grateful for something to do even though it burned her throat.

  “Yes. Another eighteen died in the various gas explosions. We haven’t been able to determine what caused those.”

  “And Eugene Stone?” Max asked.

  “Still pretending to be the mayor of Croghan, though we haven’t heard anything else from him in the last week.”

  “Perhaps he’s come to his senses.”

  “It’s more likely that he’s reassessing how best to get his hands on what we have.”

  “But you don’t have that much.” Shelby blew on her coffee. It was fresh and strong. The mayor had come prepared. She was surprised there weren’t donuts on the desk.

  “Unlimited water from the springs, some fuel reserves, and a small cache of supplies that had been stored in the basement of the courthouse. Not to mention Stanley Hamilton’s gun store and the stockpile of weapons that Jake Cooper keeps in his survival shelter.” She folded her hands on her desk and shifted her glance from Shelby to Max. “We’ve lost nine more in the last week—four at the nursing home, two at the hospital, two died in their homes, and Frank Kelton on the roadblock.”

  “Josh told us about Frank,” Max said.

  Shelby reached down, unzipped her backpack, and pulled out her notepad. She hadn’t planned on keeping a casualty list, but perhaps this aspect also needed to be recorded. Would the deceased be forgotten if she didn’t write down their names and how they had died? And yet there weren’t enough notebooks left to include the names of all who had perished since the flare—something deep inside assured her of that truth. She clicked her pen and began to write as Perkins continued to update them.

  “I’ve reinforced the roadblocks and made sure that someone with military experience is in each rotation.”

  “What does Danny think of all this?” Shelby had been staring down at her notepad when she asked about the city manager. The mayor’s silence cued her in to the fact that something was wrong. “Tell me Danny Vail wasn’t killed.”

  “Actually…he’s gone.”

  “Gone? Where?” Max glanced at Shelby and back at the mayor.

  “I don’t know where. He left after the gas explosion.”

  “Left?” Shelby’s voice rose despite her attempt to remain calm. “Danny wouldn’t just leave. He’s the city manager. He’s a good man, and he—”

  Perkins cleared her throat, shook her head, and finally sat up straighter. “He drove south, through the barricades, two days after the explosion. He never returned.”

  “Maybe he was hurt,” Max said. “Have you looked for him?”

  “I sent two officers out to his house, but Danny wasn’t there. He’d cleaned out all of his food, guns, and ammo.”

  Shelby couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Danny Vail ha
d stopped by her house after the flare. He had offered to give her and Carter a place to stay. He wouldn’t just walk away from Abney. “Anyone could have taken his things. He could have been robbed.”

  “Which is why we asked the neighbors if they’d seen or heard anything. One noticed Danny loading supplies into the back of his truck.”

  It didn’t add up, didn’t make any sense at all. Shelby looked at Max, but he only shrugged—apparently as befuddled as she was.

  “The situation at the nursing home has stabilized for the moment,” Perkins continued. “But we need antibiotics as well as maintenance drugs. If this town is going to be a safe place, we have to be able to treat people who get sick—”

  “Or shot.”

  “Or injured doing any number of things. If we don’t get more medical supplies, we’re going to have a real crisis on our hands.”

  “Nothing from the state or feds?”

  “No.”

  “I wish we could help. I do.” Max leaned forward. “But our plan is to get into Austin, find some insulin, and get out. We don’t even know how we’re going to do that or where it’s going to be.”

  Shelby added, “We can’t exactly take a shopping list and have it filled at a pharmacy.”

  “I know that. But I might be able to help you. Dr. Bhatti knows where—”

  “Absolutely not.” Shelby jumped up, nearly spilling the coffee she held. “That man is not going with us.”

  “It won’t work, Nadine. There isn’t room.”

  “Then you’re going to make room.” The mayor slapped her hand against her desk. “We need this, Max. Your town, the people you grew up with, need this. Bhatti knows what supplies are most critical. He will recognize what drug can be substituted for another, and he might have ideas where you can find it all—including insulin for Carter.”

  “I don’t trust him.” Shelby had crossed over to the windows. She stood there now, back to the mayor, arms crossed, staring down at the town square. “I don’t trust him, and nothing you are going to say will change that.”

  “So you don’t trust him. Fine. Keep an eye on him, but take him with you. Because if you don’t, there are going to be a lot more deaths in Abney.”