Frostpoint

by Kenny Soward

  It had been a long time since someone else had driven Rita around and she doubted anyone ever would again. No, her life was hers alone to drive, and she knew no one else was going to drive it for her. The events of the past month had taught her that.

  When Bobby Junior didn’t answer, Rita decided she was going to do what she had to do. She took Exit 172 and drove to the end of the exit ramp. There were no cars passing in either direction, and Rita took a left toward a Shell station and an old motel across from it.

  The Shell parking lot was empty, though there were a dozen or so cars sitting in the motel parking lot, and some of them looked like older models. That might make it easier for her to get the gas hatches open and suck out the precious fuel.

  She pulled slowly into the motel parking lot and did a U-turn near the first cluster of cars. Then she stopped, put the Honda in park, and turned it off. The sudden silence woke Bobby Junior up, and he turned his head to regard Rita with a dazed expression.

  “I’m getting us some gas, okay? Are you going to be okay without the gun?”

  Bobby Junior nodded slowly.

  “Be right back,” Rita got out and shut the door quietly behind her.

  Moving to the back of the Honda, she popped the hatchback and removed two empty gas canisters and the hoses and rags Carl had given her back in St. Louis. She shut the hatchback gently and pressed the lock button on the key fob.

  She turned and faced the motel, standing straighter as her eyes roamed the grungy building. It looked like a dingy, roach-infested sort of place where one could get a cruddy night’s sleep along with a million bedbug eggs in their clothes. Many of the windows were broken, and some of the doors were busted off their hinges.

  Rita sighed and looked back at the main road. Stealing gas in broad daylight was probably not the wisest decision, though she doubted anyone who saw her would care. And if they did, Rita would respond by brandishing her .357. Just one look at the thing was bound to frighten off any Nosy Nates. She’d reloaded the weapon earlier, so if the sight of it didn’t scare them off then she’d have to use it for real.

  With a five-gallon gas canister in one hand and the hoses and rag in the other, Rita went off in search of fuel.

  The first vehicle she came across was a rusty, dented truck. It was unlocked, so she quickly opened the driver’s side door and popped the fuel hatch. She moved to the hatch, put one end of the long hose into the gas tank and shoved it down as deep as it would go before putting the other end into the gas can. Then she put the end of the second shorter hose in next to the first one, only not quite as far, and made a seal by pressing the rag around both hoses where they entered the tank.

  Just like Carl had instructed back in St. Louis, Rita took a deep breath and blew into the short hose. Then she waited for some gas to come out. When she didn’t hear it flowing, Rita blew three more times consecutively and stepped back, not expecting any results. So, she was elated when the unmistakable sound of flowing gas reached her ears.

  “Yes,” she hissed quietly and quickly looked around to see if anyone was watching.

  They weren’t, so she turned her attention back to the canister, realizing she might need another if there was more than five gallons in the rusty truck. She ran over to the Honda and brought a second canister back. However, the gas had already stopped flowing after about three gallons, so Rita moved on to the next car in line.

  She had varying degrees of luck. Two vehicles were locked, and she couldn’t get their gas tank hatches open. Two other vehicles were nearly dry. But the next one was a veritable jackpot, filling up her two canisters in the space of a few minutes. That was the last of the first cluster of cars.

  Looking around, Rita spotted more vehicles around the side of the motel. She had plenty of time to grab two more empty gas canisters and fill those up, too.

  Carrying both full canisters back to the Honda, she quietly traded them out for two empty ones, shifting around their food and water in the process. If she made good time, maybe they could have a meal before carrying on. Empty canisters in hand, Rita walked to the end of the first cluster of cars and then cut over toward the corner of the hotel.

  There were four more cars in this area of the parking lot, and Rita started with the nearest one, getting a full canister plus a little more. The next three cars were locked, so she found a fist-sized rock and stood next to the driver’s side window of the last car. She hefted the rock, narrowing her eyes at the window in anticipation of smashing the glass. With a glance up, Rita was surprised to find she couldn’t see the Honda from where she stood.

  A brief moment of panic twisted her stomach, though she assured herself the kids would be fine for the few minutes it would take for her to fill her last can. Plus, she really wanted to smash the window. Seeing no one watching her, Rita drew the rock back and then threw it with all her might. The rock smashed through the glass and landed in the passenger’s seat with a bounce.

  “Whoa!” Rita cried as she threw her hands over her head to protect herself and backed away. Seeing she wasn’t going to be killed by flying shards of glass, she reached inside to pop the gas hatch.

  A few minutes later, Rita triumphantly lugged her two heavy canisters back toward the corner of the hotel. As she rounded the corner and came within sight of the Honda, Rita froze in her tracks.

  A man stood next to the vehicle with his hand against the rear window, peering inside at the girls. An icy chill danced up Rita’s spine and screamed into her brain. Rather than panic, Rita calmly set the gas canisters down and began walking toward the Honda with quiet steps.

  The man was tall, probably in his forties, dressed in a T-shirt and jeans. He didn’t have a jacket on, and that told Rita he must have come from the hotel. It was likely he’d been inside watching her the entire time, waiting for her to move out of sight.

  The man started to reach for the backdoor handle, and a terrifying thought crossed Rita’s mind. Had she re-locked the doors when she got the empty canisters out on the second trip? She couldn’t remember. If she’d left the doors open, then the man could just snatch Olivia right out. Especially if Bobby Junior had fallen back asleep.

  “Oh no,” Rita said. She picked up the pace, keeping her lips pressed firmly shut so she didn’t yell at the creep. Rita didn’t want to alert the man and force him into action too soon. If she spooked him, he might make a quick grab for Olivia and run away before Rita had a chance to catch up.

  She placed her hand on the bulge beneath her belt, the .357’s bulk bolstering her confidence, her jaw grinding as the man lifted the door handle and the door clicked open.

  “Hey!” Rita yelled.

  The man jerked in momentary surprise, turning his face toward Rita, though he left his hand on the door handle.

  “Take your dirty hand off the door and step away from the car, buddy,” Rita growled. She stopped fifteen yards from the man with her feet planted shoulder width apart, firmly anchoring herself on the concrete.

  “I don’t think so,” the man said, and his expression made it seem like Rita was the one intruding on his property.

  “Oh, you better believe it.” She flipped her coat back to reveal her .357 and grinned like a mad woman.

  “Well, this is my parking lot.” The man gestured in a wide circle with his other hand. “Everything in it is mine. “All the cars and…” His attention came back to the rear window, staring in at the girls with a look that made Rita’s insides wither. “And the people inside them.”

  Rita pulled out the .357 revolver, pointed it at the man with both hands, and cocked the hammer with her thumb like she’d seen them do in the movies. She’d never shot a gun before in her entire life, but if Rita had learned anything over the past month, it was that life was full of new experiences, and it was always better to embrace them before they embraced you, so to speak. Still, she was afraid. Afraid of shooting a man. Afraid of what might happen if she missed.

  “If you don’t get away from that door right now,�
�� she said, “I’m going to blow your brains all over this parking lot.”

  “I don’t think so,” the man said with a slow grin. He let go of the door handle and faced Rita with his hands on his hips. Then he pointed at the gun in an offhanded way. “Your hands are shaking. Do you even have the safety off?”

  “There’s no safety on this gun, you idiot,” Rita said, and she took a big step closer, straightening her arms while she tried to steady her hands. She was just happy the man had taken his attention off her girls. “So far you’re doing great. Now step away from the car and go back to whatever hole you—”

  The man lunged at her with unexpected speed, eyes wide and tongue stuck out like a dog diving for a bone. And then his hands were suddenly right there, going for the gun.

  Rita jerked the trigger, and the weapon fired like a cannon in her ears. The recoil sent the gun high and jolted her shoulders with a snap. The man yowled as the bullet hit him, yet his forward momentum carried him into Rita, his shoulder slamming into her chest.

  Stumbling, Rita fell on her back. Her head slammed the hard concrete with a meaty thud and her feet flew up in the air. The man tried to fall on her, but Rita kicked at his chest like a bicyclist and kept him away. The bullet had taken a chunk out of the man’s left shoulder, and blood dripped from the loose-hanging limb. He swung his right fist down to smash Rita’s face, but she cried out and straightened her legs, shoving him far enough away so his knuckles just grazed her chin.

  Rita still held the gun, so she pushed it toward his face and pulled the trigger. The man’s head exploded in a spray of wet, red confetti. Pieces of him flew into the air and came back to land on Rita. She gasped and sputtered in disbelief and then turned her body so the man’s twitching corpse fell to the ground.

  Getting slowly to her feet with her ears ringing the whole time, Rita looked around to see if the man had any friends. The motel remained quiet with just a breeze blowing through the trees on either side of the parking lot. No one stared back at her from the broken windows or crept from the shadowy, broken doorways.

  Rita stepped around the dead body and saw Bobby Junior standing at the back of the Honda with a horrified expression on his face.

  Without any effort to sugarcoat what had just happened, Rita fixed her son with a firm look. “Son, can you please get me a bottled water and the moist towelettes out of the center console? I have to get this man’s blood off me.”

  “Sure, Mom.” Bobby Junior nodded vigorously and rushed to fetch what she’d asked for.

  Rita tucked the gun back into the waistband of her pants, noting the smell of smoke and oil that drifted off the warm barrel. The piece felt good against her skin. It made her feel safe, almost like a talisman against evil in this new world they lived in. And it made her wonder why she’d never gotten a gun years ago.

  Squinting into the wind, Rita put her hands on her hips and took a deep breath. Then she released it in a shaky sigh.

  Chapter 16

  Sara, Gatlinburg, Tennessee | 6:21 a.m., Wednesday

  Sara woke up to the quiet hum of the furnace as it kicked on and delivered a dose of heat to the cabin. She closed her eyes tighter, snuggled closer to Jake, and tried to fall back asleep. After several minutes of getting nowhere and only growing more antsy, Sara climbed carefully out of bed and stood watching Jake sleep with her arms folded across her chest.

  It was still hard to believe he was alive and home. He looked leaner and had a few more scars, but she felt closer to him than ever. His arrival was a tribute to the faith they had in their relationship. At least that’s how Sara saw it. She figured they had the rest of their lives to talk about and process everything that had happened, and she didn’t feel any urgency to know everything at once.

  What felt urgent was a fresh cup of coffee.

  She slipped her feet into her slippers and went into the kitchen, surprised to find Zoe, Barbara, and Todd already up, sitting at the kitchen table with the ever-vigilant hacker, Spitz. He’d placed the crawler transmitter on the floor and monitored the connection via his laptop. The young man had barely moved from his position in front of his computer, waiting for a communication between the crawlers.

  “I knew you’d be up, Mom.” Zoe said, coming up to Sara and slipping her arms around her waist as she glanced at the bedroom door.

  “She wouldn’t let us sleep,” Barbara said. The tall girl had pulled her hair back and twisted it into a knot on her head. “She’s been acting like it’s Christmas morning.”

  “And when we got here, she made us all coffee,” Todd added. “Can you believe that?”

  “It’s easy,” Zoe said, looking annoyed. “How’s Dad?”

  “He’s doing great,” Sara said with a smile that came naturally. “He’s just sleeping away. I figure we should let him get some rest, right?”

  “Probably.” The girl looked like she understood, though Sara could tell she was disappointed, so she changed the subject. “Hey, serve me up some java, okay?”

  “Sure thing, Mom.”

  Sara’s eyes followed Zoe for a moment before she sat down and leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “How about you two? How are you doing?”

  Barbara and Todd looked at each other, and Sara thought something passed between them.

  Is this what I was like in high school, she thought, when I was falling in love with Jake? Did we share the same glances that only we understood?

  Todd flashed a grin to his mother. “We’re fine. Actually, we haven’t really thought about it. You know, with so much going on.”

  “We watched the gate all night.” Barbara bit her lip and narrowed her eyes as she thought about it. “Watching them stack dead people and body parts into trucks and hauling them away. Amazing what a .50 cal can do to the human body. I think—”

  “Okay, okay.” Sara placed her palms on the table and sighed. “I get it. And I’m sorry you had to see that. I forgot how much responsibility I’ve put on your shoulders since all this started. You’re just kids, after all.”

  Spitz looked back and forth between the three and, seeming to sense a personal conversation incoming, turned to Todd. “Hey, man. Can you watch this screen and let me know if anything comes up?”

  “Like what?”

  “Any sort of scrolling text. Images. The latest celebrity news. Just…anything.”

  “No problem,” Todd said, glancing at the screen as Spitz turned the laptop toward him.

  “Thanks, man.” Spitz stood and shook his head. “My eyes are seriously crossed. I just need to lie down for a minute.” He went over to the couch and collapsed on it, pulling a coverlet from the arm of the chair over his shoulder.

  “I wouldn’t say we’re kids anymore, Missus Walton.” Barbara’s voice held a note of resentment.

  Sara turned her eyes on the young woman and tilted her head. “You’re not, but you are. You’re just high school kids…” Sara’s eyes began watering the more she thought about it. “You should be worrying about prom and homecoming and things like that.”

  “I hated homecoming and prom,” Barbara said, flatly.

  “That’s just it. You haven’t even had time to hate those things.” Sara looked at Barbara adoringly. “And no matter how much you wouldn’t have wanted to go, you would have been an absolute knockout in a dress. Your hair. I’d kill to have that hair, girl.”

  Barbara sat back, looking surprised, pleased, and a little embarrassed at Sara’s compliment.

  Face hot with emotion, Sara smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Barbara. I’m just having an emotional mom moment over here.”

  “That’s okay, Sara.” The tall girl flashed Sara the first grin she’d ever seen the girl make. “And, I’d really appreciate it if you’d call me Barb. My mom used to call me that.”

  “Okay, Barb.” Sara sniffed, stomping down another swell of emotion before it got the best of her. She hadn’t meant to put the girl on the spot. She was thankful when Zoe set a cup of coffee down in front of her. “
Thanks, hon.”

  “No problem, Mom. Can we bring Rex and Astro back today?”

  “I’m sure we can.”

  The front door opened, and two pairs of boots stomped on the door mat before they moved to the towels and stomped more on those. Then Collier and Ostrosky entered the living room. Normally, Sara would have lost her mind at all the noise, but there was nothing subtle about these two, and she was just thankful to have them around.

  “Perimeter is secure, Sara,” Ostrosky said.

  “Everything is okay at Squirrel’s Nest, too.” Collier held up one of Sara’s two-way radios. “Just talked to Karen. And we…” Collier stopped and gave Ostrosky a funny look.

  “We dug a hole for the internment of the deceased,” Ostrosky said with a solemn note. “Whenever you’re ready to put him to rest.”

  “Frank. His name was Frank. Karen’s husband.” Sara gave the two soldiers a thankful look. “I appreciate you guys looking after us. It’s been a long few weeks. We’re all exhausted.”

  “Not a problem, Sara,” Ostrosky nodded. He was the more serious of the two men, and they both seemed perfectly matched as a team. Collier was tall and rangy while Ostrosky was built like a tank. “We found the climbing gear the crawlers used to get rear access to the cabin and put it out by your shed. You can keep it or throw it away.”

  “I can’t believe they were actually in here.” Sara shuddered. “Touching our things and looking at all our pictures.”

  “It’s all behind you now, Sara,” Collier assured her. “We’re going on the offensive. Captain Stern will want to move on the crawlers as soon as they start communicating. We’ve got teams in White Pine and Knoxville. And,” Collier grinned wide, “there’s still us.”

  “We have no means of transportation,” Ostrosky said. “Our chopper is crushed.”