Frostpoint

by Kenny Soward

As they stepped onto the road, the engine made a strange noise and then exploded in a clink of metal and flame that caused them all to duck. A second explosion went off, this one much louder, knocking Sara forward to land atop the injured woman.

  Pieces of flaming metal rained down on them, and everyone covered up to avoid the worst of it.

  A vehicle pulled up the road and squealed to a stop. Doors opened and slammed. Steven and another militia person got out. Voices shouted. Sara stood up carefully, making sure the woman soldier was okay before Barbara stepped in and helped get the dazed woman into the truck.

  Sara glanced at her husband as they went to the co-pilot, lifted him, and handed him off to waiting hands. Barbara and Collier got Ostrosky up, too. They put the equipment Collier had taken from the helicopter and lay it next to the wounded before Barbara, the uninjured pilot, Collier, and the civilian climbed aboard.

  It was starting to get crowded in the truck bed, so Jake waved Collier off. “We’ll walk down.”

  Collier nodded and slapped the roof of the truck. The truck turned around in the road and eased down the hill, leaving Jake and Sara standing alone. This time, Jake did not look away. This time, his blue eyes remained locked on hers. There was nothing else between them; nothing keeping them apart.

  “I thought you were dead.” Sara’s throat constricted with emotion, the words coming out raw. “Then I saw you had tried to text me. And then Mike said you might be in Providence, or on your way to White Pine, but I wasn’t really sure…” Sara opened her arms wide, a pleading expression etched across her face.

  Jake’s eyes softened, and a tear streaked down his cheek. He stepped to Sara and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her firmly to his chest. A gasp escaped her lungs as she returned the embrace and clutched the material of his coveralls. She lifted her face to nuzzle his neck, and the scruff of his beard scratched her cheeks with an inexplicable pleasantness.

  Her husband had come home.

  Chapter 11

  Yi, Gatlinburg, Tennessee | 9:10 a.m., Tuesday

  Yi’s remaining forces retreated to the bottom of Pine Bluff Road. Ten healthy men and women carried three wounded between them. Chen and his last remaining dragon warriors were still alive, but Ivan had not made it.

  Katrya had fought Yi to a draw when the aircraft began firing. A strike of bullets had split the concrete between them, showering them with shrapnel and pieces of the road. Katrya was hit in the shoulder and leg. Yi had moved in to finish her off, but she’d only smiled in that cold, cheerless way of hers and limp-run for the side of the road, diving over the guardrail to disappear out of sight.

  Yi had rushed to the rail and peered over the side. It was a near one hundred foot drop to the next outcrop below. One bloody glove lay in the brush, though there was no other sign of the woman. It was likely she’d tumbled over the outcrop and down several hundred feet to the cliff base, but Yi hadn’t had time to check. Bullets flying, Yi had spun away from the rail and sprinted down the road after his soldiers.

  He’d spared a glance at the big Russian lying dead in the middle of the road and the woman named Sara carrying off her child toward the cabins.

  A small part of Yi was happy Sara had made it out of the encounter alive. Sara bore herself with pride and stubbornness, traits he’d been taught to hate about Americans. Perhaps he’d been wrong about them. If given more time, they may have learned to understand each other better. They may have even been friends.

  Yi shook his head. It was too late. Their paths were chosen, and the only thing left to do was see things through to the end. An undoubtedly grisly, violent end.

  “Is the Box secure?” Yi asked Chen.

  The soldier held up the bulky piece of equipment in both arms. Aside from some scuffs to the case, there were no bullet holes or serious damage.

  “Good,” Yi nodded.

  The troops approached their vehicles where they’d hidden them off the side of the road. Yi gathered everyone around. He motioned for one of the wounded to give him his gun, and the man gladly handed over his rifle to Yi. Yi cycled the weapon and checked the magazine for remaining rounds before he flipped the weapon around and cradled it in his arms with the barrel pointed down.

  His eyes scanned each warrior in turn, gauging their intentions. Their original leader was dead, and Yi had killed her, in a roundabout way. While they each shared Katrya’s bloodthirst, perhaps they could be turned back to the true cause.

  “Most of you saw Katrya dive off the side of the mountain,” Yi said. “I have no doubt she plunged to her death and is no longer with us in this world. I challenged her authority because she would not honor a deal I made on our behalf with the woman named Sara, for the benefit of our greater mission. And make no mistake, there is nothing more important than the greater mission. Katrya had no honor, and may the spirit of the Dragon judge her accordingly. I am taking control of this mission. If anyone objects to this, speak now and save us a violent parting later.”

  Katrya’s warriors glanced at one another, though no one voiced dissention. Even Elsa shook her head and stared at Yi with what he took as a willingness to follow. What else could they do? They were alone in a foreign country with no friends to help them. If they did not stick together, the Americans would hunt them down one by one, like dogs. The alternative was to die together, with honor.

  Yi nodded. “Good. Pick the best remaining vehicles. We will take the wounded back to the doctor and have them seen to. Then we will get our new orders and follow them without question. Is that understood?”

  The soldiers nodded or gave a resounding, “Aye.”

  Yi directed Chen to place the Box into the back of the blue Toyota RAV4 Katrya had been driving and got in with his remaining dragon warriors.

  There were only four left who had started this mission with him so many weeks ago. Chen, and his three regular soldiers: Dakho, Chul, and Chinmae.

  Yi turned around in his seat and met each warrior’s eyes in turn, communicating his deep thanks without words. After each had nodded back with respect and loyalty, Yi gave Chen the order to go.

  Chapter 12

  Jake, Gatlinburg, Tennessee | 9:27 a.m., Tuesday

  Before the pickup truck pulled away, Jenkins briefly regained consciousness. She didn’t appear severely injured, though her right shoulder was in bad shape. Jake suspected her arm was out of its socket.

  The gunner turned to Jake and grabbed his shoulder with her good hand. “Did you get Clara out of the wreckage?”

  “Yes, we did,” Jake assured her. “She’s safe and sound.”

  Jenkins tried to sit up but swooned for a moment before Collier steadied her. The tall soldier looked at Jake expectantly, as if waiting for him to hop into the truck bed with him.

  “We’ll walk down,” Jake waved the soldier off.

  Collier nodded and slapped the roof of the pickup truck. The truck pulled off and did a slow, tight turn in the road before it eased down around the curve, leaving Jake and Sara alone.

  Jake put his hands on his hips and turned to his wife with his heart pounding like a jackrabbit and his blood pulsing with adrenaline.

  “I thought you were dead.” Sara said. “Then I saw you had tried to text me. And then Mike said you might be in Providence, or on your way to White Pine, but I wasn’t really sure…” Sara opened her arms wide, causing a tear to streak down Jake’s cheek.

  He went to his wife and embraced her. With his nose buried in her hair, he smelled the faint scent of her shampoo beneath the smoke and gunpowder.

  After a moment, he held her at arm’s length and studied her face. One of her cheeks bore a small bruise, and her chin had a cut that had yet to be bandaged. A new pink scar marked her forehead, something she must have gotten weeks ago. Curiously, her left earlobe was bandaged in thick gauze.

  He wanted to kiss all her cuts and bruises away, but he knew he couldn’t. Many would remain until Sara grew old, just as Jake knew his own scars were gifts that would last a lifetim
e. His heart leapt at how stunning his wife was, more so because of the cuts and bruises. Her jade-green eyes held a strength he’d not seen before. Or maybe it had always been there, and he simply hadn’t noticed.

  “Lady, you look like you’ve been through a war.”

  “You, too.” She put her hand on his chest.

  “Just a gunshot and a couple of stab wounds.”

  Sara’s eyes widened and welled with tears. “Where?”

  Jake pointed to his stomach, and Sara placed her hand gently over the spot.

  “Don’t worry. It only hurts when I laugh.”

  A chuckle burst from Sara’s lips as she leaned against his chest. “I knew you were alive.” She shook her head. “I just knew it. No matter how bad the news got.”

  “I worried about you all constantly,” Jake said. “Well, when I wasn’t running for my life. I’ve got so much to tell you.”

  “Me, too.” Sara took his hand and turned him down the hill where they walked side by side. “I’m not even sure where to begin.”

  “Let’s save it for later. Right now, people need our help.”

  “Agreed.”

  They walked in silence down the hill, and Jake was happy to be beside the woman he loved. They came within sight of the row of cabins where the battle had taken place, and Jake saw that the driver had pulled the pickup truck in front.

  The road was bathed in blood. Six of the local people who had died were being carried and placed in a neat row behind the roundwood gate. The gate’s wood was stained red, and there were crawler bodies down where Jenkins had sprayed them with .50 caliber rounds.

  “This is unreal,” Jake said, shaking his head. “How long has it been like this? I mean, how long have you been fighting the crawlers?”

  “We ran into them in Maryville on the way here, and they’ve been plaguing people ever since. I think they blew up the Douglas Dam and flooded the whole river valley. And then there were some local thugs we had to deal with. The Good Folk have been on our side the entire time.”

  “Good Folk?”

  “Steven, Barbara.” Sara gestured around. “All of these people.”

  “A local militia?”

  “I think so,” Sara said. “They must have been a group before all this started. Then they grew bigger after things started going south around here. They helped save people from the flooding before taking on the crawlers.”

  They came to the porch, and a thin man with his left arm in a sling stepped out. A hesitant smile touched his lips as he looked back and forth between Jake and Sara.

  “Jake?” the man guessed.

  “This is Jake,” Sara nodded, grinning from ear to ear.

  The man came down the porch stairs, wincing slightly as he favored his left arm. “You sure know how to make an entrance, man. It’s real good to meet you. I’m Dion.” Dion held out his good hand.

  Jake shook Dion’s hand and offered a smile. It had been so long since he’d slept that he was certain the names and faces of Sara’s friends would start to blur in his head.

  “I was a cabin resident when things went down,” Dion continued, enthusiastically. “Then I met Sara. First thing we did was save a puppy.”

  “That we did.” Sara grinned.

  A woman with long black braids tied up in a circular pattern stuck her head out of the door. Her eyes glanced over Jake before turning to Sara.

  “I need your sewing skills,” the woman said. She jerked her head toward the inside of the house and then disappeared.

  “That was Natasha,” Sara said, already moving up the stairs. “I’m going to help with stitches now.”

  “Amazing,” Jake said. “Do you need any help?”

  “I think I’ve got it. But I’ll call for you if I need you.” Sara smiled and followed Natasha inside where the bustling Good Folk did their best to save their friends.

  “I forgot to ask where the kids are.” Jake shook his head, his eyes pleading to Dion for help. “Sorry, man. I haven’t slept in so long…”

  “That’s right,” Dion said, slapping his leg. “I feel so stupid. No one’s told them yet. I’ll—”

  “Dad?”

  He looked up to see Zoe standing in the doorway where Sara had disappeared. Her eyes were puffy and swollen from crying, but their bright green color was like a beacon of love to Jake. She seemed simultaneously happy and confused. He couldn’t blame her. He must look like a lunatic with his scruffy beard and gaunt appearance.

  “Hey, Zo,” Jake said, almost sheepishly. He rushed to the foot of the stairs and caught his daughter as she leaped into his arms.

  “We didn’t know what happened to you.” Zoe buried her face in Jake’s neck and then drew back doubtfully as she plucked at his beard. “You look different. What is this?”

  “I haven’t had a lot of time to shave, Zo,” Jake said with a chuckle. “But it’s really me.”

  Zoe hugged her father again. “We missed you a lot.”

  “I would hope so,” Jake laughed, relishing his daughter’s curls that seemed to bounce everywhere. “I missed you, too.”

  Jake looked up to see someone gingerly approaching. He was the same kid Jake remembered, maybe a little thinner, like himself. But there was a look in his eyes that everyone seemed to have these days. The look of someone who had lived a lot of life in a short span of time.

  Jake stood up and hugged Zoe to his side, his eyes never leaving his son. His lips formed a quirky smile. “Using a cane already? You’re getting old, son.”

  “Got hit by a car,” Todd said, his eyes full of emotion barely kept in check. “Doctor says I have to take it easy for a few weeks.”

  “And here I was thinking I had a rough time of things in Boston.” He took another second to admire Todd before he stepped over and clutched the young man’s shoulder, being careful not to squeeze too hard. Todd returned the gesture, and the two men touched their foreheads together. Jake closed his eyes tight.

  “Good to see you, son.”

  “Good to see you, too, Dad.”

  Chapter 13

  Rita, Little Rock, Arkansas

  “…what experts are calling the most wide-reaching display of terrorism they have ever seen, might be coming to an end,” the news reporter said. “Troops returning from overseas are being deployed throughout the country, with half a million troops deployed to the US-Mexican border within the month. Army experts say this is partly a display of force and also as a follow-up on incursion operations that may last throughout the spring and summer of next year. In a bold move, the United States has imposed the strictest sanctions in history on China, effectively ending all trade with the communist nation. Aid is being withheld to nations such as the Ukraine—”

  Rita turned the radio off. It was scaring the kids and, frankly, scaring her as well. It was good to hear that things might be turning around, however, she couldn’t get caught up in all that. She had one thing on her mind, and one thing only: getting to Uncle Tex so the kids had a safe place to stay.

  It was a straight shot down I-40 to Knoxville. The only problem was that Memphis was in the way, and according to earlier news reports, there was house-to-house fighting going on as several gangs and home-grown terrorist sympathizers were rooted out. She didn’t know about all that. The bottom line for Rita was that she wanted nothing to do with Memphis.

  That meant she needed to bypass the city, but she didn’t know the highways well enough to get around safely. With the internet down, she would need to rely on a paper map. So, somewhere around Little Rock, Arkansas, Rita looked for an exit ramp where she hoped to find a friendly gas station.

  So far, she’d passed hundreds of cars on the road, and none of them had been hostile in the least. There was only one incident back in Clarksville where they’d witnessed some sort of altercation between a dozen people parked alongside the expressway; however, she’d steered well clear of it.

  Exit 157 seemed friendly enough, and bustling, too. Several cars were getting off the exit in
front of her, so Rita put on her signal and got behind them.

  “We getting off here, Mom?” Bobby Junior asked.

  “Looks that way, kiddos.”

  “Good!” Lacy sang from the back. “I have to goooooo!”

  “You always have to go.” Rita shook her head in an aggravated, yet good-natured way. “How about you, Olivia? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  “That’s my girl,” Rita said. Olivia was only seven, but she was as cool and collected as they came.

  Rita read the signs as she came off exit and saw there was a Mobile Oil station on the right. She took a right at the end of the ramp and drove past several fast-food places that appeared to be shut down, although several hotels in the vicinity boasted half-full lots. The other thing she noticed were several military vehicles interspersed through the parking lots, and even two Humvees sitting in front of the Mobile Oil station.

  The big sign that normally had gas prices on it read OPEN in big bold letters, although there was hardly anyone getting gas.

  “Well, maybe people are still afraid to be out and about,” Rita murmured to herself as she pulled into the lot. The soldiers sitting in their Humvees watched as she pulled in, and Rita gave them a wary look.

  Her gas gauge read a quarter of a tank, and she still had plenty of fuel in her cans. What she needed was a map. She pulled up to the front of the store, put the Honda in park, and turned it off.

  “Lacy, you come with me,” Rita said, then she turned to her son. “Okay, Bobby—”

  “I know, Mom,” he said, gripping the .357. “If someone knocks on the window, show them the gun. If they don’t go away, threaten to shoot them.”

  “That’s right,” Rita said. She’d unloaded the weapon as soon as they got on the road. She didn’t want the boy shooting off his foot by accident. Based on the looks people gave her when they saw her .357, all they’d need to do was show they were armed to turn away any would-be robbers. “I’m only going to be in the store for a few minutes for your sister to pee and to get a map, then we’ll be right out.”