Lamp Black: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 2) (53 page)

“I got about four hours,” said Pete, “which is more than enough to get me to John’s.”

Bonnie began to pull her shoes on, so Pete stepped out to have a quick look around and make sure everything was safe. He raised his arms over his head and stretched. He hated sleeping in a seat, but it was better than no sleep. He did feel better. After bending and touching his
toes, Pete looked up to examine the still gray sky. The ash was no longer falling, and it pleased him to see the sun, little more than a small silver disk in the sky, as it tried to penetrate the heavy metallic-like atmosphere.

The morning light was of a sickly, greenish-yellow hue, but the illumination was good; at least better than what it was the previous day. He could see well enough to walk without worrying about stepping into a hole or crashing into a tree. “Come on sun, you can do it,” said Pete, happy to have a little light, but wanting more. The persistent darkness was oppressive, and Pete longed for the clear Texas skies he was accustomed to. As he walked over to a bush to relieve the pressure on his bladder, he wondered how long it would take before the skies were once again clear.

The sound of a truck door shutting told Pete that Bonnie had also exited the truck. He knew she hated walking through the ash, that she didn’t like to be dirty, but he was glad she didn’t complain. She usually wasn’t one to complain, but she had her moments, as he had his. He was also tired of the ash, how it stuck to his clothes, hung in the air, and made everything look the same, gray and lifeless.

For Pete, being in the ash was like moving through a cold fireplace, only wood ash had a different texture and smell. It was somehow fresher, if such a thing was even possible. The volcanic ash smelled a little off, a little rotten. He asked Bonnie if she could smell the rottenness from the ash and she said she couldn’t. He was surprised, but his nose had always been more sensitive than hers. As for texture, the ash was like fine powder, finer than any fireplace ash he ever had to scoop, and it stuck to everything like it was electrostatically charged.

Pete walked back to the truck, and while he waited for Bonnie to finish up, he scraped ash from the hood and windshield. He saw her approach and asked, “Ready to go? We’ve got another interesting day ahead of us.”

Bonnie looked at him, and with a slightly tilted head she asked, “Why do you say that?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Pete, as he wiped his hands on a rag and climbed into the truck. “Yesterday was pretty interesting, so I can only imagine what today will bring. Look what’s happened to us so far. I don’t think it will get easier as we continue north.” Pete knew he was treading on thin ice, with his veiled explanation. He wanted to prepare Bonnie for trouble, but not scare her. He definitely wasn’t ready to talk about the warning dream.

Pete wasn’t a dreamer, not even in the traditional sense of the word, so to have such a visually impressive experience really surprised him. Strangely, he accepted it for what it was, a warning, and he planned to follow the advice. Besides, he lived for missions, for calls to duty, and he tried to control his enthusiasm, but it was too late. Jenna stared at him and said, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re enjoying the disaster.”

Pete laughed once and started the engine. “What?” asked Bonnie, “Why’d you just laugh?”

“Um, I was laughing at the irony of it,” answered Pete.

“The irony of what?” asked Bonnie.

Pete granted himself a few additional seconds to construct a reasonable reply, and said, “The irony that I’m actually enjoying the trip, but not the ash. But then again, we wouldn’t be making the trip if it wasn’t for the ash.” answered Pete. He knew that wasn’t what Bonnie wanted to hear, but he also knew she knew him well enough to accurately read his feelings.

“I’m worried about you, Pete. Nobody in their right mind would enjoy something like this,” said Bonnie, as she gestured with a hand wave to the ash beyond the window. “The world is falling apart around us, and you’re having fun?” she ended her sentence with a slight raise in volume, warning Pete that he should choose his next words very carefully.

“OK, maybe I shouldn’t have used the word enjoy as a descriptive, but it’s better than sitting around watching football all day,” said Pete.

“I would be perfectly fine with us sitting around watching football, Pete. It would mean the world was still together.”

The world together?
Pete didn’t want to argue with Bonnie about how untogether the world was before the disaster, so he said, “Look, Bon, I know you’re not happy. And please don’t think for a second that I’m happy with the way things are, but I’m not sad either. I’m not going to let the environment dictate my mood or emotions. And honestly, I feel more alive because of it. I don’t know how to explain it better than that. I feel like the disaster awakened something inside me, something that was asleep. I can’t explain it better than that.”

“It awoke something in you all right . . . your crazy side,” replied Bonnie, with a smirk.

Pete smirked back, grateful for the change in tempo, and said, “What do we have to eat? I’m starving.”

They spent the next thirty minutes eating a cold breakfast of granola with milk, the last of their fresh fruit, and a pop tart. Bonnie passed on a pop tart because she thought they were disgusting, so she enjoyed a wedge of goat cheese instead. She also expressed her desire to have a hot breakfast. Despite Pete’s personal longing for a hot cup of coffee, he convinced her that it wasn’t the place, or the time, to tackle a hot breakfast. He promised Bonnie that he would respond to her desire for hot food as soon as he could.

With Bonnie’s navigational help, Pete made his way back to the main road and they were soon heading north on highway 81. Fifteen minutes later they approached the junction of I-35W, just north of mile-marker sixteen. Pete stopped the truck on the top of the overpass, and from his seat he surveyed the interstate activity below. He was surprised to see that the southbound vehicle traffic was very sparse. It was running in just the passing lane, with the cars evenly spaced and moving along at a comfortable speed. The slow lane was completely filled with walking people. They moved between the traffic and stalled cars and trucks on the shoulder as if the slow-lane was meant specifically for them.

“That’s weird,” said Pete.

“What? The traffic?” said Bonnie.

“Yeah. I thought it would be heavier heading south. Do you see all the people walking?”

“I do, and it’s crazy,” said Bonnie. “What do you think’s going on?”

“I don’t know, but I guess we’ll find out soon enough. We’re heading that way,” said Pete.

“Freeway or frontage road?” asked Bonnie.

“I think we should stay on the frontage road. I see the cable barriers again, and I don’t want them between us . . . I don’t want to get trapped on the interstate,” answered Pete.

He drove across the overpass and turned onto the frontage road. It ran along their current portion of I-35W all the way to Fort Worth, and only stopped when it reached the north side of the city. But they would have to consider something different when it came to crossing the Trinity River. Driving entirely around the city would add several hours to their trip, so John planned to run right up the middle, and then exit the interstate as soon as they crossed the river.

He hoped for smooth sailing, but his memory of the dream persisted. He now wondered when, not if, he would come across the obstacle Eli warned him about. Pete kept his scoped M1A in the cab. The rifle was in a padded gun case right behind him, but he wasn’t longing for a gun fight. Pete wasn’t the best close-quarters shooter in their group, that title clearly belonged to John. He was more of a long-range shooter. That didn’t mean he couldn’t handle close combat. He had practical experience, it was just that he really liked the challenge of shooting at long range.

Thinking of John made him wonder how Mark was doing. Pete didn’t know if the ash made it all the way to San Antonio, but he’d be surprised if it didn’t. If several inches fell in Central Texas, then it must have reached San Antonio, which was only a few hours south of him. Pete didn’t know how much ash fell on Texas, but it really didn’t matter because he was surrounded by it. He knew that even a few inches would change things for people, and he wondered if he’d ever see Mark again. Pete was also curious about how much ash was
waiting for him at John’s. And if a couple of feet fell in Texas, how much ash fell in Colorado, Utah, or even Wyoming. He figured they must be buried in ash.

Pete noticed traffic on the interstate was beginning to exit, and he was forced to yield. A chill ran down his spine.
This is it
, he thought.
This is the sign
. As he watched and waited for a break in the slow moving procession of cars, he asked, “What mile-marker are we at?”

Without pause, Bonnie said, “Twenty-seven. Why, what are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking we need to take cover,” replied Pete.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“We need to get off the road. I have a bad feeling about this traffic.”

“It’s probably just another accident ahead,” said Bonnie. “You know how they like to divert traffic to the frontage roads when there’s an accident.”

“True,” said Pete, “But there’s no police to do the diverting. Besides, they’re exiting because the traffic on the interstate isn’t moving.” After a couple patient minutes, someone flashed their lights and Pete pulled into a gap in the traffic. He thanked the friendly driver with a flash of his hazard lights, and then fell into line with the rest of the slow moving traffic.

“I don’t understand why we have to hide though. I can find us a bypass. There’s a ton of side roads around here. I can get us back on the interstate in no time. In fact, if you take a right at the next road. . .”

“No, Bonnie. No bypass. Not this time. I need to find out what’s going on up ahead, because whatever it is, it’s not an accident.”

“What? How do you know that from here?” she asked, clearly interested in Pete’s rationale.

“I don’t know, but I do suspect. And I’m not going any farther with the truck until I find out what’s going on up ahead. I’m not interested in proceeding blindly forward. There,” said Pete, pointing to a building at his two-o’clock. “There’s some kind of warehouse over there.”

Pete turned off the frontage road and entered a large parking area. Even with the ash, the sound of crunching gravel could be heard under
the tires. There were no other vehicle tracks in the parking lot ash, and for that Pete was glad. He wanted to find the warehouse empty, so he drove along the front until he came to a vehicle gate in the eight foot tall chain-link fence that surrounded the storage yard. The fence was capped with outward facing barbed wire, but the strands were down and sagging in places. Clearly, security was not a concern for the building’s owner, and that was another good sign for Pete.

He pulled to a stop by the gate and said, “Sit tight. I’ll be right back,” and then jumped out and walked to the back of the truck. After loosening a tie-down strap, Pete reached under the tarp and withdrew a large set of bolt cutters. He approached the gate, gripped the padlock in the cutters, and with a quick squeeze the heavy padlock was opened. Pete removed it from the chain and stuffed it into his pocket. He leaned into the gate and slid it aside just enough to allow his truck to pass through and into the storage yard.

Pete laid the cutters on the seat next to Bonnie. She looked at them and said, “So now you’re a burglar too?”

“Very funny, Bon. I need to put you somewhere safe while I recon up ahead,” replied Pete, as he pulled through the gate. He cleared the gate and got out to reclose it. After wrapping the chain around the gate’s two poles, to make it look like it was still locked, he returned to the truck. If he had a spare padlock he would lock the gate again, but he was confident the chain would make it look like it was still locked, at least long enough for what they needed.

Pete drove slowly through the yard, looking for a place to park. The truck’s headlights illuminated several racks of what looked to be stone slabs leaning against heavy vertical supports. He had seen such racks before, and reasoned they were supporting pieces of granite or marble, but he couldn’t rightly tell because ash coated everything. But Pete reasoned that if the warehouse made custom countertops, then maybe there would be enough room in their warehouse to park his truck. He hoped that was the case, because he wanted to get out of sight, and out of the ash. When they reached the rear of the building,
Pete spotted a large sliding door. Bonnie was watching Pete closely, and when his attention turned to her she asked, “What do you mean . . . put-me-somewhere-safe?”

Pete ignored her tone and said, “I’ll explain in a minute. I first want to hide, and then we’ll talk about my plans.” Pete set the brake and grabbed the bolt cutters. As he stepped out of the truck, Bonnie said, “I wasn’t trying to be smart with you. I just want to know what you’re up to.”

“I’ll explain in a minute. Be patient, my love,” finished Pete, as he shut the truck door. He walked up to the large sliding door and moved off to one side so that his headlight shadow didn’t block his view of the lock. He cut it off and let it drop into the ash. Pete tried to push the heavy door to the side, but it seemed to be stuck on something. He got it open enough to squeeze through the gap, and thumbed on his flashlight. The interior was large enough to park his truck, but he still had to open the large sliding door. He found that a bag of tile grout had fallen off a pallet and onto the door’s track and wedged itself firmly under the door. Pete slide the door back, removed the bag from the track, and the large door slid easily open.

As Pete hoped, Bonnie took the initiative and assumed the driver’s seat. He waved her in and stood to the side as she entered the warehouse. As soon as the truck was in the warehouse, Pete slid the door closed behind her and then dropped two bags of grout onto the track. They had found a place to hide, and Pete couldn’t be more thrilled with their success.

Bonnie turned off the engine and immediately jumped out. Pete heard her walking around the warehouse. She sighed and said, “I love the ground.” A moment later her flashlight went on and she said, “Are we safe here?”