15 Miles From Home (Perilous Miles Book 2) Page 7

  Arthur went up to his office and closed the door. He went to the bookcase on the wall and pulled out a three-book section, which was covering a panel that looked no different from the rest of the wall — that is, to anyone else. He pressed lightly on the panel until he heard a click inside the wall. Grasping the shelf, he pulled the bookcase section toward him. It opened like a door and revealed a wall with various handguns, rifles, and shotguns mounted to it. He started pulling the weapons from the wall and laying them on the furniture in the room. Drawers below the guns held hundreds of rounds of ammunition for each one. He pulled those out as well.

  He stepped out into the hall and went to the linen closet at the end. He pulled his sea bag out of the bottom and took it back to his office. He loaded the guns and ammunition into the bag and carried it to the hall, except for the Colt 1911 .45, which he placed in his waistband. He left the bag beside his office door, where the weight of it created a thunk. Living in D.C., where gun ownership was all but outlawed, meant making some concessions. However, he had never, and would never, give up his right to own them. He just got creative in the way he stored them. He didn't have nearly as many as he would have liked to have had in a situation like this and nowhere near enough ammo. But it would have to do. His brother, Philip, would be well-stocked … they just had to get there.

  Next, Arthur went to a wall safe across the room. Turning the dial quickly, he unlocked it and opened the door. From inside, he pulled their passports, birth certificates, marriage license, and two thousand dollars in cash. He knew the cash was probably worthless, but not everyone else did. Not yet, at least. He hoped it would be enough to get them to Tennessee. Both of them were in their late fifties; both had high blood pressure and were on medication for it. They were probably fit enough to walk a few miles over flat ground, but no way they could hike mountains. He wondered how long it would be before one of them had a stroke or a heart attack once the blood pressure medicine was gone. He walked to the landing and called downstairs.

  "Jeannie, don't forget our medications, headache meds, vitamins — just empty that shelf into the bag as well."

  "Okay, getting all that now," she called back, trying to hide the fact that she had been crying.

  He went to their bedroom, set the pistol on the chest, and took off his uniform. He was pretty sure he had just worn it for the last time. He laid it respectfully on the bed and removed the ribbon bars from the chest. He pulled a duffel bag from the top of the closet and placed the ribbon bars in the side pocket. Donning jeans and a Navy sweatshirt, he added more jeans, a couple of sweaters, some flannel shirts, socks and underwear, as well as tennis shoes and hiking boots to the bag. He put on a pair of tactical boots, placed the pistol in the back waistband, and carried the duffel to the hall, setting it beside his sea bag. He pulled one more pair of pants and a shirt from his chest of drawers and stuck them in the top of his sea bag to cover the contents. Pulling the drawstring tight, he took a moment to catch his breath.

  By this time, Jean had packed up what she thought they should take from the kitchen and had come upstairs to pack their clothes. Seeing the bags sitting in the hall, she looked at Arthur.

  "Looks like you've been busy, too," she said. "I'm guessing you took care of the supplies from your office."

  He nodded. "Yes, and I packed my clothes as well. All you need to do is pack clothes for yourself and get the stuff from the bathroom. Unless you want me to get that."

  "No, I'll take care of it. It won't take but a few minutes. Besides, shouldn't you be loading up the car?" she asked.

  "Yes ma'am, I should, and I will," he replied. "Let me know if you need any help up here." He picked up the two bags, slung one over each shoulder, and headed down the stairs.

  In a world where most of the vehicles were not running, the Humvee had garnered some attention from the neighbors when he pulled up. A few were standing outside his front door, looking at the vehicle and talking to each other. When Arthur opened the door, all heads turned towards him.

  One of his neighbors, Craig Duff, addressed him from the sidewalk. "Hey, Art. How come your ride works when nobody else's does?"

  Arthur hesitated at the top of the stairs. He knew this was going to happen at some point, but he wasn't prepared for it to happen right then. Explaining why the Hummer still ran was simple; explaining why he was loading up bags and wearing civilian clothes, not so much. He continued down the stairs resolutely and joined the group at the bottom.

  "Well, Craig, all I can tell you is it was stored in a garage underground, so maybe that protected it from whatever happened up here." He opened the back window and put the bags inside, being careful to set his sea bag down gently so it didn't make much noise.

  Craig went on. "Oh, I see. If you're a bigwig in the government, you get special treatment. You'll be riding around town while us peons are walking everywhere," he remarked disdainfully. "What the hell is going on here anyway? I'm sure you know, being an admiral and all."

  Arthur heaved a heavy sigh, then turned to Craig. "I'm sorry your car doesn't run, Craig. I wish I could help you, but I can't. Honestly, I don't know much more than you do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to finish loading this truck, so Jean and I can get on the road."

  Belligerently, Craig barked, "Yeah? Where are you off to in such a hurry? You do know something, don't you? Tell us, dammit! We have a right to know, too!"

  Arthur stepped up until he was chest to chest with Craig. He replied softly, "I don't like your tone, Craig. Where I'm going is none of your concern. I would suggest you step back and let me get on with my business. In fact, you should go on home and take care of your family. I don't know what's going on, but I have a feeling dark days are coming. You should go get ready for them."

  With that, Arthur closed and locked the back of the Humvee, headed back up the steps, went inside, and shut the door behind him. He went upstairs to their bedroom and found Jean zipping up the bag she had filled from the bathroom. On the bed lay two suitcases full of clothes that hadn't yet been closed. He walked over and started zipping up the closest one.

  "Are you ready? We've got a situation developing out front. We need to get out of here as soon as we can." He was reaching for the second suitcase as he spoke. "I'll take these down to the front door, but I'm going to wait a few minutes to see if the people out front move along before I take anything else outside. How much do you have in the kitchen that needs to go out?"

  "Four of the reusable grocery bags and the big cooler. I also dumped the ice from the icemaker in on top of the things in the cooler. What's going on outside?" she asked as she followed him down the stairs.

  "A bunch of looky-loos wondering why the Humvee works and their cars don't," Arthur told her. "And we don't have time for me to explain the damage an EMP does or what their lives are about to become. We need to get out of town right now."

  He went to the front window and peered out. Most of the onlookers had left. Craig was still there, with another man Arthur did not know. He turned to Jean and said, "I'm going to take those two suitcases out. Stay here. You can go ahead and bring the bags from the kitchen and set them in the hallway. I'll be right back."

  She nodded as he opened the door, picked up the bags, set them on the stoop, and closed the door behind him. At the sound of the door opening, Craig and his friend looked up at Arthur. As he carried the suitcases down the stairs, the two men watched him closely.

  "Wow, looks like you folks are going on an adventure," Craig remarked in a snarky tone. "Wish my car was running so I could go on one, too."

  Arthur unlocked the back of the Humvee and placed the suitcases inside the storage area. Closing and locking it again, he turned to the men, slipping his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.

  "I thought I told you that you should go on home, Craig. This is none of your concern, as I've already said. Now, get out of my face."

  "You can't tell me what to do! This is a free country. I'm just standing on the sidewalk; you do
n't own the sidewalk. I'm pretty sure my tax dollars paid for that vehicle. I'm just wondering if wherever you're going is official business, old man, especially since you're taking your wife," Craig said smugly, standing in front of Arthur, blocking his path.

  Arthur slid his right hand from his back pocket onto the pearl-handled grips of the Colt in his waistband. "Get out of my way, Craig. Don't make me say it again."

  "Or what? Are you threatening me, Admiral?"

  "No, I'm telling you. Get …" He pulled the gun from his waistband. "Out …" They heard the hammer cock as he brought the gun to bear. "Of my way, asshole."

  Craig and his buddy stumbled backwards at the sight of the gun, Craig tripping over the curb and landing in the slushy snow in the grass beside the street. He scrambled up and ran off, watching Arthur over his shoulder, yelling, "He's got a gun! Somebody call the cops!"

  Arthur chuckled as he watched them run. "Yes, by all means, call the cops! Oh wait — no phones!" he called out after them. Problem resolved, he went back to get Jean and the rest of the things.

  They loaded up the last of it, locked the front door, and climbed into the Humvee. When the engine started, Jean could see her neighbors peering out through their curtains at the sound, but no one else bothered them. Arthur reached over and took her hand. "Are you ready, Jeannie?"

  She turned to him, a lone tear trickling down her cheek, and said, "Whither thou goest, I will go."

  Chapter 9

  Will walked along the highway, lost in his thoughts. What could cause something like this? How far does it reach? He had a feeling the answer to the last question was pretty far, if the way the sky lit up when it happened was any indication. These were things he needed to discuss with his dad, which caused him to pick up his pace a bit. His sense of urgency to get home increased with every step. He was so engrossed in analyzing the situation, he didn't realize someone was talking to him.

  "Hey, buddy! Wait up!"

  Will stopped and turned to see a woman with a large hiking pack on her back, bundled up in serious winter outerwear, hurrying toward him. She smiled as she got close.

  "I was beginning to think maybe you were hearing impaired or something. I've been hollering at you for like ten minutes." She stood with her gloved hands hooked in the straps of her backpack. Will could see wisps of blonde hair sticking out of her toboggan, framing a face with the most captivating blue eyes he had ever seen. When she smiled, they sparkled like diamonds. He couldn't help but smile back and picked up on her Northern accent.

  "Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts, thinking about how crazy this is. I see you had the same idea as me about heading out on foot."

  "Yeah, I'm not really sure what this is, but I'm not the type to sit around waiting for someone to help me. I try to help myself. I decided to see if I can get … I don't know, somewhere … and crash for a few days. Doesn't look like I'm getting home any time soon."

  "Where's home?" he asked.

  "Wisconsin. A little town called Rhinelander. You've probably never heard of it."

  Will's face lit up. "Are you kidding me? My dad is from Rhinelander!"

  "No way! That is too cool! Imagine us meeting on the road like this — two people in Tennessee who actually know where Rhinelander, Wisconsin, is! I'm Amanda, by the way. Amanda Frye." She stuck out a gloved hand to Will.

  "Will Chambers," he replied as he shook her hand. "Yeah, you probably aren't going to get nine hundred miles on foot. You're welcome to walk with me. I'm going to my folks' place in Bartlett. It's about one percent of the mileage you're looking at."

  "Very nice to meet you, Will Chambers. I'd love to walk with you. Bartlett definitely works."

  They started forward again. After a moment, Will picked up the conversation. "So, what is a Yankee gal from Northern Wisconsin doing down here anyway? No offense."

  She chuckled. "None taken. I get that a lot. I go to Ole Miss. I was on my way home for Christmas break. Guess I should have left a day earlier, huh?"

  He looked at her and said, "You're in college? I figured you were closer to my age. Oh, shit … sorry, no offense … again."

  She laughed then. "Well, I probably should be offended on that one, but I actually am about your age. My dad died last year, cancer. He left me part of his estate on the stipulation I use some of it to go back to school to get my master's degree. I'm going for my master's in business."

  He replied, "Nice. Speaking of nice, that's a killer rig you have there. Are you a hiker or something?"

  She nodded. "Yep. I love hiking. Sometimes when I go, I lose track of time, so I keep a one-man tent, sleeping bag, cooking setup, dried foods, a water filter, that kind of stuff, in my pack all the time. Whenever I go anywhere, my pack goes with me. You never know when the urge to hit the trail will come."

  Will cocked his head at her. "Water filter?"

  "Yeah, it's pretty cool actually. You can either scoop up water into a glass or some kind of container, stick the straw in, and drink, or you can use it straight from whatever water you can find."

  "Like a puddle? That sounds kind of gross," Will replied with a grimace.

  Amanda grinned. "The key word here is filter. It filters out all the baddies in the water, leaving you something safe to drink. That could come in handy if you find yourself running out of water."

  "Have you tried it?"

  "As a matter of fact, I have. Scooped up a bottle from a nasty puddle in the woods a couple of years ago. Filtered it into the pouch, it tasted fine — and I didn't die, obviously."

  Now it was Will's turn to chuckle. "Obviously. Well, I am happy you came along, Amanda. You've made my day suck a little less."

  She gave him a quick salute. "Glad I could be of service, sir!"

  They shared a laugh and continued down the road.

  As they walked, Will confided some of his thoughts about the event. She agreed that whatever it was, it was not your normal, everyday power outage, but she had no clue as to what could do something like this either. He didn't share the fact he had visions, or that he had experienced some regarding this situation. He did find her very easy to talk to, though. And those eyes …

  "Hello? Anybody home?" she teased, leaning over to nudge him as they walked.

  "Huh? Sorry, I guess my mind was wandering. What did you say?"

  "I said I wonder how far I can get today, if I keep walking. I'm good on food and water for a few days anyway. I just don't know whether I should keep going as far as I can go or try to find a hotel or something. What do you think?"

  He stopped and looked at her. He thought about the visions — the darkness, the people starving and freezing, some attacking others. He said, "I think you should come with me to my parents’ house. I don't think you should be on the road alone, Amanda. I have a really bad feeling about this whole thing."

  She looked at him wide-eyed. "Really? I don't want to impose, though. I'm sure I can find something …"

  "Do you have any cash on you?" he asked. "Not prying into your finances or anything, but if you don't have cash, you won't get a room, or any more food and stuff."

  "Damn. I hadn't thought about that. No power means no credit cards work, and no I don't have a lot of cash. I hardly ever carry it. But still, shouldn't you ask your parents first? I mean, we're practically strangers, Will."

  Will nodded. "I'm a pretty good judge of character. I believe you're a good person. Are you a good person, Amanda?"

  "Well, I try to be," she replied. "I gave some of my food to a guy back there with four kids and a sick wife. I guess that constitutes being good."

  "Yes, it does. My parents trust me, and I trust you. I have a feeling we're going to be a lot better acquainted by the time we get there, too. We still have a few miles to go."

  Okay, how about we see how it goes on the trip. I may start getting on your nerves in about an hour or so."

  He laughed. "I doubt it, but we can play it by ear. That's something I'm good at."

  "I'm intrigued. Tell me mo
re about yourself, Will Chambers." She linked a gloved hand through his arm and steered him toward their destination.

  As they walked he told her about his job in Pigeon Forge. "Oh, a celebrity!" she exclaimed. "Are you famous? Should I know you?"

  He snorted. "Not even remotely. I would have been suspicious if you had said you'd heard of us. But it's a good gig. When I first moved there, I was kind of glad to be that far from home, you know? Mom wouldn't just drop in without calling first to see if I had food and clean my apartment; Dad wouldn't be there all the time telling me how to do stuff. But the last couple of years, I find myself really missing them, and my sister and nephews. I've been thinking a lot about trying to find something closer to home."

  "That would be nice for your mom and dad."

  "Yeah. It's just really hard to leave the band. We've played together for five years. We get along great, no friction, no prima donnas. All the guys are talented. I don't know. Every time I make the drive home, it gets harder to leave. I've even limited my trips home to once a year, so I didn't have to deal with the dread. It doesn't help."

  "Well, it sounds to me like you already know what you need to do, Will. I would suggest you start looking for something closer to home this trip — that is, if everything comes back on."

  Will shook his head. "For some reason, I don't think a new gig is going to be high on my priority list for a little while. I don't know what this is, but I know it's bad. And I've got a feeling it's not getting fixed right away."

  "Why do you say that?"

  Will hesitated. Should I tell her about the visions? How would I explain what I don't understand myself? No, not yet. "Just because this isn't just a power outage, you know? The cars, phones … there's something else happening here. My dad was an electrical engineer before he retired. I bet he has an idea what's going on, maybe how to get through this. Let's keep going."