That was assuming the cops did leave. If the shop said nothing was wrong with her car, or if Wiley went off on his own again in front of them, she had no idea how they’d react.
He said, “Fair enough. You’ll have kept up your end of the deal, and I appreciate that. I was worried you’d just take off, once I fixed your car.”
Ha. He was worried? That actually made her feel better about him, a reassurance he wasn’t some predator, as she’d feared.
A few minutes later, the SUV ahead pulled onto a gravel road, which turned out to be only a driveway. Tucked off the road itself, a gas station with an attached garage came into view. It was odd that there hadn’t been any roadside sign for it.
When they drove up to it, though, all the lights were off, the doors were closed, and no cars were in the parking spaces or at the pumps. Even the pump lights were off.
The SUV stopped, and for ten minutes, nothing happened. The longer they sat in the car—talking, from what she could see of them—the more nervous she got. By the time the cops climbed out and headed toward her car, her nerves were shot.
“Everyone, act calm. And Mary, shut the heck up, okay? We’re in enough trouble already.”
“I pinky-swear I’ll be quiet. I know, I screwed up. Sorry.”
When Officer Kelley got to her open window, he said, “Well, it looks like this place has closed since I last saw it. That presents us with a problem.”
A shudder ran down her back. This lie was getting out of hand. Hopefully, she could get rid of them soon, so she could quit hoping none of the little fibs came unraveled. She had to swallow, throat dry. “Okay. Um, what problem? It’s closed. I’m sure we’ll make it home, and you have a job to do, but I really appreciate you escorting us all the way here.”
He stood with thumbs in his duty belt, expressionless. “No, ma’am. My partner and I are in agreement on this. You’ll have to either let us escort you home, or walk. I wouldn’t recommend walking. As I said, we have reports of robberies on the roads, and it wouldn’t be safe for you or your children.”
Damn. Given what he said about the thieves coming out of the woodwork in all the chaos, having an escort still made her kids safer. It just made her nervous as hell.
“Sure thing, officer. I’d sure feel safer with a police escort.” She struggled to keep her mixed feelings from showing, and forced herself to smile.
“Very well. Go ahead and pull out, and we’ll follow you there.” With that, he turned and went back to his SUV, then drove around until he was stopped behind her.
Having police behind her made her nervous, and she made sure to check her mirrors and seat belt before pulling out onto the road using her turn signal.
“Crap,” she muttered.
“You said it,” Wiley replied. “Looks like I’m going to Weldona, too.”
Just super.
17
David rolled down his window, enjoying the waning afternoon’s slightly cooling temperatures. The AC in his beast of a vehicle didn’t help the Bronco’s already significant fuel consumption. A glance told him he had half a tank left. “Let me see that handheld,” he told Orien.
Walkie-talkie in hand, he clicked the button. “Escort to Primary, come in.”
After a moment, it crackled and Mary’s voice came on. “Um, hi. What’s up?”
Orien grinned.
David shook his head. “So, we’re heading north, but we’re leaving my assigned OpArea. T-O-D is about seventeen-thirty hours. Mind telling me what’s our objective?”
“What?”
Orien laughed out loud.
David clicked the button again. “It’s five-thirty p.m. I’m not really authorized to keep going, but I might. Where am I taking you people?”
A different voice, Christine’s, sounded irritated. “Sorry. We’re going to a little town, more like a village. It’s Weldona. Heard of it?”
Orien shook his head at the obvious subterfuge, but David had just wanted to be sure she kept to the same story she’d given earlier. He had seen road signs before she mentioned the place, but it was better to give them the rope to hang themselves with, if they had been lying.
To Orien, he said, “Half a tank…”
“We could refuel there, I suppose. I think we have plenty to get there, since I get the impression it’s not too far away, but getting back to the duty station might be borderline.”
David radioed, “Copy that. Pull over a minute, please.”
He tossed the radio over to Orien and slowed to a stop at the side of the lonely farm road, behind the civilians, then stepped out into the heat to approach the driver’s side window.
Christine rolled down her window. At the heat hitting her, she wrinkled her nose. It was kind of a cute expression, though she was pretty easy on the eyes normally, too. She said, “Is something wrong?”
“No, ma’am—”
“Christine.”
“No, Christine… It’s just that I need to see how far ahead Weldona is. I have half a tank of gas left. Is that going to be enough to get there, and then come back a few miles south of where I ran into you?”
She paused, considering. “Yeah, you should. It’s only a few miles ahead, actually. There’s no service station in town, but it’s a farming town. There are private fuel stores, and I’m sure they’ll spare some for an officer of the law. They’re old-school, and pretty big on ‘civic duty.’ But you don’t really need to follow us there. We’re close enough now that if anything happens, we could just walk there, eventually.”
He eyed her, considering her words, but her expression seemed to betray uneasiness. For a couple seconds, he forgot about the conversation, just looking at her eyes. Pale gold, deep-set, almond-shaped and tapering at the outer corners of her eyelids, they were rather pretty.
He refocused, and came to a decision. “Sorry, but you’re stuck with me for a little while, yet. I’m not sure you’ve seen how crazy things are getting, just randomly all over. And, it’s getting later in the day, cooling off, so people will start coming out again. Not all of them are good people. I wouldn’t feel right sending your family off alone, all things considered.”
The abrupt realization that his tone had been less commanding, more asking, startled him. He cleared his throat. “So, okay. You take the lead, since you know where it is. We’ll keep following close behind. I don’t think anyone’s going to tackle two vehicles full of people, since there’s easier prey. Wait until I’m in the truck, and then go, but keep it under sixty.”
The front passenger, Wiley, leaned over to peer up at David and said, “If it’s okay with you all, I’m going to just walk, okay? I have a friend nearby I want to check on, and—”
David cut him off. “Son, there are some bad people out here.” He stared into Wiley’s eyes—and saw tiny wrinkles at the corners. Tension lines; most people got them when they were stressed or nervous. That was…odd. He continued, “Actually, I have to insist you stay in the vehicle, sir. We can’t afford some pointless search and rescue routine, right now. You think you can handle that?”
David and Wiley locked gazes. David didn’t flinch. After a few seconds, Wiley did.
Wiley sat back upright, breathing heavily—another sign of stress—and said, “Sure, man. You’re the cop. I respect your ‘authoratah.’ Sir officer.”
Inside, David grinned. Yeah, he had Wiley pegged. The man was more nervous than he ought to be, and there was some reason for that. The mocking, David could have done without, but he was used to that and didn’t let it affect him like he had in his younger days. Or like Orien still did.
He said, “Very well. Christine, let’s get a move on.”
Before she could reply, he turned and strode with head high back to his SUV, wearing his full-on “cop strut.”
As he closed the car door behind him, Orien said, “So, Sarge. Seems like she’s under your skin. Something going on there I should know about? A little spark? Some sexual tension? You two need some time alone? I mean, four mont
hs… How do you live?”
“Shut your damn mouth, probie.” He started the SUV and pulled onto the road just after the car pulled away.
They drove through a surreal landscape that little resembled rural America as David knew it. Every little village of buildings had roadblocks up, signs ordering others to keep out. When the road passed through the middle of some little settlement, the side roads were blocked with road construction signs, while the street-side storefronts were boarded up or at least shuttered.
The walkie-talkie crackled to life. Christine’s voice came through, and even through the faint static, her tension was evident. “Officer Kelley? Are we safe? Should we go around these towns, instead?”
Orien clucked his tongue and then said, “I can’t really blame them for being scared. This is America, now. Daaamn.”
David ignored him. “Ma’am… Christine… we’re completely safe. You’re traveling with two vehicles, and one of ’em has armed, uniformed police officers. No one’s going to bother us, so long as we don’t stop for lights.”
Not that there were any stoplights around that still worked, he mused, grimly.
Christine replied, “Okay, I guess. Thanks, I’m glad you came. This is scary.”
Then, a small girl’s voice came through, sounding more distant from the mic. Her daughter, of course. “Officer, can you turn on the lights and the siren? Won’t we be safer if those crazy people know we got police with us?”
Odd, the daughter—Darcy? Yeah, that was her name—had sounded far more well-spoken, before. She must be pretty terrified, he realized. But no one was around to bother with it, and there was little reason not to make the poor kid feel a little safer…
“Roger that. Engaging pursuit mode. Christine, let’s get us up to sixty, shall we?”
“Ten-four,” she replied, amusement showing in her voice.
As Orien flipped on the car’s normally hidden lights and turned on the siren, it felt good to bring a little amusement to the scared civilians.
Once they had accelerated, he spotted Darcy looking back at his vehicle through the back window, grinning. It brought a smile to his face, and he decided to put on a show for the kid.
He pressed hard on the gas pedal, feeling the acceleration pushing him back into his seat, roaring past their car like a cop on a mission, and he couldn’t miss the girl’s happy, giggling face as he shot past them.
18
Christine glanced at the cops in her rearview. She’d pulled ahead again only a minute after they’d blasted by to amuse her kids, which was pretty “cool” of them. Certainly, it had alleviated much of her kids’ stress, and Mary’s, too. Wiley had been silent since his ridiculous pissing contest with the officer, but in her experience, men had fragile egos. He’d live.
A road sign flashed by on her right, proclaiming her to be traveling northbound on County Road 9, but this close to her old home, she needed no signs to tell her that.
“Keep an eye out ahead for roadblocks, Mary. We’re coming up on Weldona, and there’s a cross street south of some farms that would make a great place to divert traffic.” Or an ambush, depending on how bad things were in her mom’s little community, but she refused to think about that. If things were that bad, where else could she go? She’d have to roll with the punches, maybe beg the cops to take her into Denver again or something. Certainly, the older one seemed nice enough.
Bah. She shoved the morbid thoughts away. She had more bad things to think about, more likely things, like what Fran would say when she showed up on her doorstep with two strangers and the police. An image of her mom’s expression on seeing the police with her flashed to mind, bringing a small smile.
Mary said, “There—I see something sparkling up ahead in the sunlight.”
Christine craned her neck and narrowed her eyes, trying to see it. Right away, she spotted roadblocks ahead. As she approached, she saw a “detour” sign as well, pointing along a smaller road that intersected County 9. That would be Grove, if she remembered right, which veered west and connected with the main east-west road bordering Weldona, just west of town.
As she pulled up to the detour, a pickup truck pulled out from behind a clump of trees and approached from the sign’s other side. Two men in front, two in back, all armed.
Behind her, the SUV’s “stealth lights,” he’d called them—hidden behind the front grill and other spots, when not turned on, but highly visible with the flip of a switch—came on, illuminating everything in the red and blue “cherries and berries” of a police vehicle.
The four men didn’t miss a step, but approached the lead car—Christine’s—with weapons ready but not pointed at anyone.
The man who’d been driving slung his weapon, a semi-automatic shotgun available at most big-box stores, over his shoulder, and approached her window. He said nothing, merely stood there.
After a few seconds, Christine finished taking three deep breaths to calm her heartbeat, then rolled the window down halfway. “Hi. We’re going to Weldona,” she said with her best smile. Something about the man looked familiar, though she couldn’t quite place it.
He replied, “No, you ain’t. I don’t mean to be rude, but Weldona is now for residents only, on orders of the mayor. If you want to complain, I recommend the governor’s office, but afore the time bein’, you best get moving.”
Though his tone was polite, Christine heard steel behind it. Her heartbeat skyrocketed. If she couldn’t get her kids into town, then what? Where would they go? They couldn’t go back to Denver, not without sneaking in, and they’d already pressed their luck just getting out of the city…
Officer Kelley’s voice, in full cop-authority tone, rumbled, “Son, you’d better get out of the way, or I’m going to have to place you under arrest.”
“For what?” the man said, jerking and looking shocked.
“Brandishing a firearm, for one. Impeding traffic. Commandeering public transportation routes. Take your pick.”
The man paused, then replied, “No offense, officer, but I don’t recognize your authority here. This’s Weldona, not Denver, and we ain’t answering to you. Plus, they’s four of us and only two of you.”
Officer Kelley said, “Yes, sir. I imagine you four could murder two police officers. However, I guarantee that we will take two of you with us. I think I’ll pick you, for that.”
Christine couldn’t see Officer Kelley’s face from where she sat, but she thought she heard a tone shift like he was smiling—probably dangerously.
The man shifted his grip on his shotgun, fidgeting like he was nervous. Good. The bastard deserved it. Who the hell did he think he was, waving guns around to keep people out?
But she and her family would be squarely in the crossfire of any gunfight they had, and that was not the best place to be when bullets flew. She said, “Everyone, calm down. I’m not a looter or anything. I belong here. My name is Christine. My mom is Fran Thatcher.”
“Holy crap,” the man said, then bent down and stared her in the eyes. After a couple of seconds, he stood up straight and looked over his shoulder. “Okay, boys. Lift the roadblock, and don’t give me no lip about it.”
He looked back at Christine, and frowned. “I don’t want beef with cops, and your mom is one of us, so I’ll let you in. But listen, you do not want to get on the mayor’s bad side. He’s also the president of the town H-O-A, and can mess with Fran’s zoning variances.”
Christine had to know this guy. He looked so familiar, and of course, Weldona was a tiny little settlement. She’d known everyone. “Thanks for the tip. Listen, you know my name, but I don’t know yours. I’m sorry, I just haven’t been ‘home’ in a lot of years.”
“That ain’t no lie. Too bad you didn’t stay gone.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m pretty sure you’ll remember me eventually, but do me a favor, don’t come lookin’ to talk to me when you do. I’d rather just let the past be in the past. And when you get in there, you’d best behave. T
here ain’t any stores open, and there’s not enough to go around as it is. Not for the likes of you, anyway.”
He narrowed his eyes for a split second, then turned and walked back toward the roadblock.
Officer Kelley leaned into the window. “What the hell was that about? Who is that guy?”
Christine shook her head. “I don’t remember.”
“Well, you handled it well. That had to be scary for you. Take a moment to get your nerves together, then lead us in. I’ll stay close behind.” He headed back to his SUV.
She felt a momentary thrill at his compliment, but pushed the thought aside. She had to mentally prepare for an even scarier encounter than the one she’d just had—the one with Fran. Meeting her mother in person, not on the phone—and on her mom’s home territory, no less—was not something she was looking forward to.
When she was ready, she pulled forward slowly and went through the open detour. Part of her felt a little thrill at being home again, though. No, not home—it hadn’t been that since she left at eighteen.
“You can never go home, they say,” she muttered as she accelerated north toward Weldona.
19
Up ahead, County Road 9 ended at Railroad Avenue. Christine turned right, then turned left at the first street she came across, the poorly-named Main Street. It was odd seeing no cars traveling on Railroad, likewise with Main Street, which was the easternmost road running north-south in Weldona proper. About 200 yards down, they approached a street sign for Cottage Avenue, which ended at Main Street.
Christine pulled into the last driveway on the left before Cottage Avenue and almost lost her grip on the steering wheel. Wiping her sweaty hands on her pants, she ignored for the moment the riotous, joyous cries of her kids in back. They were far more excited to see Fran than she was.
The property itself was about an acre, longer east-to-west, that once had been four different lots. Fran had sold her typical farm years ago, and used the money to buy the lots all together. People had complained when she razed the buildings, keeping only one home, but her success with rather unorthodox farming methods had earned her their grudging acceptance, and perhaps more than a little envy.
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