Half Past Midnight (5 page)

“Debra, I think maybe we should be a little more careful.”

“No kidding.”

“No, I’m serious.”

Waiting to hear me out, she arched an eyebrow. I felt a little silly, but I was already committed. “You and the kids need to stay further behind me. That way, if another idiot comes around the corner like that last one, you’ll have plenty of space to maneuver. And I’ll slow down before I top any hills or round any corners in the road. All the trees and brush out here muffle most of the sound, so I can’t count on hearing oncoming traffic before it’s right up on me. Especially through my helmet.”

I paused. This next one sounded crazy even to me. I could imagine how it would sound to my wife. Nevertheless, I added, “I also think we need a few hand signals. You know: stop, slow down, hurry, hide.”

“Hide?”

Again, I paused. “What if that guy had come flying around the corner ready to blast anything in his way?”

“Oh, come on! Don’t you think you’re getting a little carried away?” She laughed nervously.

“Not with everything that’s at stake here. What if he’d wrecked into the van and hurt the kids?”

She was silent, thinking. I could see the conflict on her face. Pacifism was her chosen point of view, but threaten her children at your own risk. She would use any and all means possible to defend them. We’d had enough “what if” conversations in the past for me to know this about her, much like I had gone through with Megan. “What if someone kidnapped Zachary, raped Megan, hurt or killed any of us?” I knew from her answers that her point of view took the form of shades, not blinders.

She finally acquiesced. “Okay, but we’ll also need a signal to ready the rifle.”

We settled on six basic hand signals: stop, forward, slow down, hurry, hide, and danger. Megan already knew those signals. They were the same ones we used when she and I played paintball once a month.

Upon seeing the “danger” signal, Megan would ready the rifle, and Debra would pull over, perpendicular to the road and ready to turn around if necessary. Zachary was to stay down and under no circumstances let himself be seen.

We went over the signals a few times, making sure Debra knew them as well as Megan and I did, then continued on our way. According to the map, we had just over an hour’s drive.

As we traveled, the van about a hundred yards behind me, I began to feel a little better about our situation. We’d had a frightening brush with disaster but, other than my scrapes and bruises, no one was hurt. And it had served to make us a little more careful. Besides, the odds of another accident occurring on roads as deserted as these had to be astronomical.

Fifteen minutes later, I topped a hill in the road and stopped. In the little valley below, it looked like someone had beaten the odds.

* * June 13 / 4:56 * *

The road down the other side of the hill was long and steep, one of those lengthy slopes that thrill children. It dropped nearly two hundred feet before rising again. At the bottom, two vans, a pickup, and a station wagon were scattered all about the roadbed. They were accompanied by six bodies. The whole area looked burnt, as if the vehicles had caught fire after the wreck.

Shocked, I barely had the presence of mind to signal for the van to stop before removing my helmet and scanning the carnage below. There was enough room on the right side of the road for the van to pass, but I didn’t want the kids to see the bodies if it could be helped. I finally turned the Suzuki around and headed back to where my family waited in the van. Pulling up to Debra’s window, I suggested we stop for a break.

“What’s wrong?”

“There’s a pretty bad wreck over the hill there. Six-car pile-up. I need to see if I can find a way to get the van through.”

“Let’s just take the van down and push them out of the way.”

I shook my head. “Too much glass,” I lied. “Megan, would you and Zach make us some sandwiches, please? I’m starving. Your mom and I are going up the hill.” Without giving them time to object, I hustled Debra out of the van and up the hill. “Come on, I’ll show you why you can’t use the van to push.”

As soon as we were out of range of the kids’ hearing, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t want to mention it in front of the kids, but there are some bodies down there. I need some time to move them out of sight.”

She was silent for a few seconds. “How bad is it?”

“Judge for yourself.”

We topped the rise and looked down. She reached out and took my hand. “I don’t suppose any of them are still alive.”

“Doubtful.” There wasn’t much more to say. We were turning to go back to the van when she stopped and, with a puzzled expression, went back up to the crest. She studied the wreckage intently for a minute or more. “What do you suppose happened?”

“What do you mean?”

“What exactly do you think caused the wreck?”

I shrugged. “It looks to me as if the second van down there got rear-ended, and the gas tank blew.”

The van I pointed out lay on its side on the shoulder. One of the back doors rested on the grass, about thirty feet away. The other door was missing completely, along with most of the rear end of the van. It must have been one hell of an explosion.

“I guess the gas sprayed on the other cars, and the drivers panicked and wrecked into each other.” Even as I said it, though, something felt wrong. I was missing something.

Debra pointed it out. “If they were rear-ended hard enough to cause an explosion like that, shouldn’t the station wagon’s front end be smashed up, too? It was next in line. And what caused the truck in front to wreck?”

I didn’t like where this was leading. I didn’t like it at all.

Debra caught it, too. “Someone ambushed them.”

Quickly, we backed down the hill until we could no longer be seen from the other side. Both of us thought about the implications of the situation. Debra finally asked the question that was on both our minds. “So, now what?”

I thought for a second longer. “Well, we can’t very well turn back, and it would be another eighty miles to go around. We’re half an hour away from being home free, and we don’t know how long we have before things get really rough.”

She crossed her arms as if she were cold. “Looks like they already are.”

“You know what I mean.” We were both all too aware of the nuclear war in the offing.

“Yeah.”

I looked over at her. “We’ve got to go through.”

She stared back at me as if I’d lost my mind. “And I suppose whoever blew the hell out of those people down there is just going to smile and wave as we drive past? Get serious, Lee.”

“No,” I agreed. “It won’t be that easy. I’ll have to go down first and scout the area. Find out if it’s safe.”

“And if it isn’t?”

“Then I’ll come back very quietly and let you know.” I grinned in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. “I’m not about to take any chances, babe. First sign of trouble and I’m out of there.”

She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, indicating the other side of the hill. “Fine. But what if they have other ideas?”

I could see that her mood was rapidly deteriorating, and I was beginning to get a little exasperated myself. “Look, Debra, we don’t even know if there is anyone. I doubt there is, honestly.”

That wasn’t exactly true. I certainly
hoped
that whoever had massacred that convoy had had the good sense to move on immediately afterward. But they might just as easily have been lying in wait down there, hoping the wreckage would attract more victims as they came to help. I wasn’t about to mention this to my wife, however.

“Well, if you don’t think there’s anyone down there, let’s just take our chances and drive on through. We could probably make it through on the right shoulder without any problems.”

Uh, oh. “I just said I
doubt
that there’s anyone there. I can’t be sure until I go down and check it out.”

She mulled it over for a moment. “But you really don’t think there’s anyone there?”

Good. She was giving in. “No, I really don’t.”

Her smile was very nearly vicious. “Okay then, which side do you want?”

I gaped stupidly as the implications sank into my skull. “What do you mean?”

“Well, if there’s no danger, and this is just a precaution, then two of us should get it done twice as fast. And you did mention that time is of the essence.” Her smug grin was infuriating.

“Now wait a minute!” I nearly exploded. “I just said I didn’t
think
that there was anyone there. There’s no guarantee that I’m right. And if you think I’m going to let you risk yourself just because you happen to have a stubborn streak, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Well, that did it. Her grin disappeared, and genuine anger laced her voice. “And if you think I’m about to go sit in the van and twiddle my thumbs while you go play GI Joe, then
you
are sadly mistaken!”

Our voices had risen as we argued, and the kids looked up the hill. Struggling to stay calm, I asked in a low whisper, “What if I’m wrong, Debra? What if there’s trouble?”

“’Then I’ll come back very quietly and let you know.’ I think that was exactly how you put it, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, come on! Listen, I know how you feel, but be reasonable, for Christ’s sake!”

Major mistake. Her voice was suddenly icy cold. “Be reasonable?” she hissed. “I
am
being reasonable. You’re the one that thinks that just because you’re a man, you’re more qualified to walk in the woods. Well, you listen to me for a second, mister. I’m smaller than you, lighter than you, and can outrun you. And unless I miss my guess, your precious martial arts training doesn’t teach diddly about woodland stalking, so I’m just as well-trained at that as you are. So what do you have to say to that, Mr. Haiya-mama kung fu super shit?”

To say she was pissed off would be like comparing Krakatoa to a Roman candle. The thing that bothered me was that, when I really stopped to consider, she was correct on all counts. I was acting like a stereotypical insecure, macho male. I knew that on an intellectual level. But this was my family, damn it! I didn’t want to chance any of them getting hurt if I could possibly help it.

Logic and emotion battled. Logic presented a way out. “All right, what do you suggest?”

Surprise quickly replaced the anger in her eyes. “What?”

I shrugged. “You’re right. I’m being an idiot. So what do you suggest we do?”

Quickly recovering her composure, she replied, “Just what I said a minute ago. You take one side, and I’ll take the other. We’ll get done twice as fast and be on our way as quickly as possible.”

“All right.” I nodded amiably. “But what about the kids?”

She paused, appearing less certain. “They’ll stay in the van. You showed Megan how to use the rifle, so they should be just fine.”

“Fine. But what if something does happen to us? Not that anything will, but what if? Say that there
is
someone down there, and they kill us,” I said bluntly. “Or even if they just capture us and try to ransom us for the supplies in the van. Do you think Megan could handle a situation like that on her own?”

Debra was quiet, thinking. Finally, she shrugged. “Okay, you’re right. One of us needs to stay with the kids. But I still think that I should do the scouting. I’m smaller and quieter, so I have a better chance of getting in and out without being seen.”

“But if there’s trouble, I’m the one who’s trained to handle it,” I countered.

I pulled a quarter out of my pocket. “Flip you for it.”

Chapter 4
* * June 13 / 6:03 p.m. * *

Le bras pendant à la iambe liee,
Visage pasle, au sein poignard caché,
Trois qui seront iurez de la meslee
Au grand de Genues sera le fer laschee.

His arm hung and leg bound,
Face pale, dagger hidden in his bosom,
Three who will be sworn in the fray
Against the great one of Genoa will the steel be unleashed.

Nostradamus –
Century 5, Quatrain 28

Watching the van as it passed around a curve and out of sight, I slipped the two-headed quarter back into my pocket. They would wait at a roadside park we had passed a mile back until six forty. No more, no less. That gave me just over half an hour.

If I hadn’t made it back by then, Debra had agreed to backtrack and detour around the area, taking the longer alternate route. I had assured her I would follow as soon as possible. It would mean driving an additional eighty miles, but that was better than ending up as part of the litter problem on the other side of the hill.

I pushed the Suzuki into the woods and slipped among the trees to head over the hill. I made my way about halfway down the hill, then stopped to scan for any signs of life. Nothing.

I moved on down, slipping from tree to tree as quietly as possible, alert for any indication that I’d been seen. Finally, I drew alongside the rearmost vehicle.

The station wagon, about twenty years old, with what had once been imitation wood grain trim, was about twenty feet from the tree I hid behind, so I had an excellent view. In the scorched mass of melted plastic and charred paint, I saw that the windshield had shattered, and wispy tendrils of melted plastic trailed from the chromed border. The hood was blackened, and black streaks trailed down the fender. Even the front tires were melted.

Astonishingly, the rear of the vehicle was nearly untouched except for the windows, which were all networked with the millions of breaks characteristic of overstressed safety glass. I figured the heat had probably done that, since I spotted no apparent points of impact.

The idea of impact brought another thought to mind, and I quickly reexamined the wagon. I sighed in relief at the lack of bullet holes, at least not on the side I could see. Checking the other side would mean leaving the cover of the trees, and I wasn’t willing to risk that yet, not until I was reasonably sure there wasn’t a sentry, or ax murderer, or whatever hiding somewhere in the trees on my side of the road.

I glanced at my watch. Only five minutes had passed since I’d come over the hill.