Hidden Flames (7 page)

“You lead,” Prue said, giving her agreement that she was willing to use whatever means necessary to get free and clear of this traffic jam. The authorities wouldn’t be stopping anyone for simple traffic violations anyway. She revved her engine, taking a quick look behind her. Sure enough, drivers were already trying to swerve around the other vehicles. “Get us up to the exit and we’ll hit the secondary roads. It will take us longer had the highways been clear, but in this case it will sure be faster than what we’re dealing with here.”

Owen nodded and looked over his right shoulder, behind where Prue was positioned. She’d left enough room for him to maneuver his bike in front of her and then take off slowly down the shoulder of the highway. The exhaust fumes from the various cars and trucks filled the air, making breathing slightly difficult. The more gradually they rode ahead, the clearer the air became. By this time, people were starting to get out of their vehicles to see what the hold up was. Prue had never seen anything like this before and she breathed a sigh of relief when Owen finally reached the exit ramp.

Within minutes, the two of them were cruising the back roads at a decent speed. Quite a few people had the same idea, but the traffic was moving at a good clip. It was nowhere near the congestion the highway contained, and with a few more turns here and there Owen had managed to get them on a windy, thin road that appeared virtually abandoned. She took the outside track of their lane. She positioned her bike around fifteen feet back off of his right shoulder and settled in for a long haul.

Riding a motorcycle on Kevlar belted terrain pattern tires was nowhere near as comfortable as driving a car or a truck, but it sure as hell lifted one’s spirit with a sense of freedom. The wind in her face, the natural fragrance of the outdoors, and the cooler air underneath the hanging trees was like nothing else she’d ever experienced. Riding had become an obsession with her back when she’d been a teenager and dated an older guy with a Harley. It wasn’t long after that she’d purchased repair parts for a broken down heap of metal that someone living in her old neighborhood was going to scrap out. It had taken her close to a year, but she’d eventually turned that bike into one hell of a ride with a clear title.

Memories from when Prue was younger started to invade her mind, which was unusual. Riding brought an inner peace and pushed out all the bad things of everyday life. Today…not so much. It probably had more to do with what they were facing and the fact that she would finally get to meet her long lost baby sister. Her stomach tied in knots at the thought. Rosa was put into foster care when she was three years old, right after their mother had died from cancer. Their father had taken off when things had gotten tough. She had been a teenager when all of that had gone down and she would have been able to maintain custody of Rosa had Prue been a couple of years older.

“There’s a small town gas station up ahead,” Owen yelled over, surprising Prue when he slowed down and settled in beside her. “We’ll stop for a quick break and top off the tanks while I touch base with the guys.”

Prue figured they would continue to stop at out of the way gas stations while they could before they had to use the supplies they brought when places started to shut down or thin out. She nodded her agreement and was grateful for the reprieve. Her thoughts were drifting to a place where she rarely went and it left her resentful. She’d worked hard to make something of herself and had a damn good life. She dropped back and flipped on her turn signal even though no one was behind them, and then followed Owen into the station. She pulled her bike alongside of his by one of the pumps.

“Go call your friends,” Prue said, shutting off her engine and then stepping off of the bike while simultaneously removing her helmet. She ran a hand through her hair, not bothering with her cap. They wouldn’t be here long enough for it to be necessary. “I’ll fill them up with ninety-three.”

“Take a walk around and stretch when you’re done,” Owen suggested, already off of his Harley and pulling his phone out of his pocket. “We’re going to be sore later tonight and tomorrow will be even harder.”

Prue walked into the gas station, honestly surprised it was even open. An older man was sitting on a stool behind the counter with his eyes glued to the small fifteen inch black and white television. She figured the set had to be worth money somewhere considering it appeared to have been made before she’d been born. She glanced around and noticed that the shelves were fully stocked.

“You haven’t been raided yet,” Prue stated, pulling the man’s attention away from the tube. He had to be in his late eighties, his white whiskers not doing a damn to hide the wrinkles that covered his face. “The stations closer to the suburbs and cities have practically been ransacked.”

“They’ll be coming.” The older man leaned back and looked out the window, apparently to see if Prue was with anyone. He spotted Owen right away and then appeared to scan the area. She caught sight of the rifle by his side. Touché. “During storms we get the overflow after the people realize that there’s nothing left to be had at the other places. It takes them a while, but they start making their way to the stations located off the beaten track. You’re traveling by bike. Going south, are ya?”

“No,” Prue replied, not sure she should mention that they were heading up to Washington State. Owen didn’t have a problem telling his neighbors, but he knew them well. He also only revealed the state and not the exact location. This was a complete stranger and she was afraid he might mention it to others who stopped by here. They certainly didn’t need random and unsavory people following their trail. “Going west.”

Prue pulled out some cash and set it on the counter before pushing it toward him. He took it and then rang her up. She and Owen had cleaned out their bank accounts, although he didn’t know how much she was carrying in her saddlebags. She’d asked for large bills to consolidate, but she certainly wasn’t leaving her money in a bank that she would have no access to for years to come. She’d worked too damn hard to leave everything behind.

“West?” The older man raised an eyebrow as he laid a hand over the large bill and pulled it toward him. “That’s an odd direction, especially on the bikes. I figure we have around seventy-two hours before the ash cloud hits us. At least, that’s what they’re saying about the East Coast. If you’re traveling west and staying south enough, it’ll hit you in that time span if not sooner, young lady.”

“We’ll be fine,” Prue assured him with a small smile, taking a look around the station. It appeared empty, but she hadn’t thought they were that far away from civilization for this place to be deserted. She zeroed her attention on the television. “Anymore news?”

“It’s all doomsday reports.” The older man worked the register and activated the pump where they’d parked the bikes. He appeared resigned. “I never thought I’d go out like this.”

“Aren’t the officials telling everyone to come east? You still have time to close up shop and get closer to the shore, I guess,” Prue advised, wondering if he had a wife. He wore a gold wedding band on his aged finger. “You and your family can make it there by nightfall easily.”

“Oh, I’ll survive the amount of two or three millimeters of ash they’re claiming we’ll get in this area. It’s the aftermath that will kill everyone off,” the man said gruffly, as if he’d accepted his fate. He shrugged and made a face. “I’ve lived my life. I was born here and this is where I’ll be buried, whether it be in the ground or under ash.”

Prue inhaled deeply, unsure of what to say to that. Her instinct to survive was in high gear and she’d continue to ride until she couldn’t stay awake. She and Owen had agreed to catching a few hours—and only a few hours—of sleep when the time came. There wasn’t time to waste when a suffocating hell was bearing down on them.

“I’ll fill up the bikes and whatever’s left over you can keep.” Prue didn’t feel like coming back in here. The faster they were on their way, the quicker they’d make it to their destination. “I wish you the best of luck.”

“You too, young lady. You’re going to need it if that’s the way you’re traveling,” the old man said as he gave a sideways look to where the motorcycles were parked. “That mode of transportation leaves you vulnerable to predators. Even I can see that your guy has a stash of weapons secured to the back of his bike.”

Owen had mentioned that very same thing to Prue when they each had to run into the bank. He wouldn’t allow the bikes to sit alone, and said that one of them had to always stay behind with their Harleys. The other option would have been to travel by car, but those types of engines would have failed an hour into the ash cloud. They’d made the right decision, even though their visible supplies
did
make them targets.

“He knows how to use them, too.” Prue flashed a smile and turned to go. She’d made it to the door before stopping, something keeping her from leaving. She turned back, scanning the counter for what she’d missed. She finally spotted the hat with a Korean War Vet label on the front. “You’re a veteran.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the older man said, modest pride filling his features for the sacrifice he’d made for his country. “What’s coming our way can’t be fought like the enemies we’ve known in the past, but the desperation in the people will be the same. True colors shine through and that’s when we’ll need to watch our backs. Desperations breeds disaster.”

“My friend said nearly the exact same thing.” Prue pulled down her cap and gave the gentleman a nod of good fortune. “Be careful.”

“You too, young lady.”

Prue opened the door and let it close behind her as she made her way to the bikes. She fought the urge to go back inside and ask the veteran if he’d like to go with them. He’d just say no anyway, his mind set on staying in a place that was home to him. Owen was just putting his phone in one of the side pockets of his cammies, giving her a curious look at what had taken her so long.

“Everything okay?” Owen asked, closing the distance and reaching for the handle on the pump before she had a chance to pick it up. Prue unscrewed the gas cap on both machines so that he could top them off. “Your worry lines are showing.”

“Worry lines?” Prue raised an eyebrow at his statement. She liked it better when they worked together at the shop. He pretty much left her alone. “I don’t have worry lines.”

“Yes, you do,” Owen countered with a smile. He lifted the nozzle from her bike and slid it into his. He caught her stare. His smile widened. “There are two lines that deepen in between your eyebrows when you’re fretting over a job.”

“Fretting?” Prue definitely liked it better when there was a clear line in between their relationship. Owen was somehow invading her personal space without doing anything other than talking. She reminded herself that they both had bigger worries than what was happening between them, which there wasn’t. Her lips tingled, telling her something entirely different. “I don’t have worry lines and I certainly don’t
fret
.”

Prue screwed the gas caps back into place while Owen secured the handle on the pump with a grin attached to his attractive face—too attractive and too distracting. She didn’t give him time to respond as she walked back toward the station, letting her next words carry in the wind.

“I’m using the restroom before we start another leg of this trip.” Prue strolled back through the door, giving a wave to the veteran before she made her way to the back of the store. She quickly used the facilities and then washed her hands, all the while grateful that they would be back on their bikes shortly. The roar of the engines made it so they only spoke to one another when necessary. The older man was standing and looking out the window when she passed by, making her curious as to what he was watching. She pushed open the door and instantly saw what had spiked his interest. Four motorcycles had pulled up behind Owen and she didn’t like the looks of them. “You ready?”

Prue had purposefully kept her voice low. She had her helmet secured within seconds, while Owen took his time. She figured he did that to indicate that the four other men and their interest didn’t bother him. It was more than apparent who the leader of this little group was. He was bigger than the others, with biceps larger than her thighs. His long, brown greasy hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He had tattoos everywhere that didn’t seem to have a rhyme or reason. He had piercing blue eyes that made her feel like he could cut her with them and she didn’t appreciate the way he skimmed them over her body. He was trouble and, by the look of the others, his friends were no different…birds of a feather.

“The border agents won’t let you cross with those guns.” The leader, as Prue had dubbed him, hooked the nozzle back into place. He never took his eyes off of her as he spoke to Owen. She firmly turned her back and swung her leg over her seat, getting as comfortable as she could as she waited for Owen to do the same. “We’ll take them off of your hands.”

“We’re good,” Owen said in a steel-toned voice. She’d never heard him talk like that and she hit the run button, unlocking her ignition and ready to start her engine. She looked over to where the veteran stood in the window and wished she’d gotten his name. She had no doubt that he could protect himself, but she still didn’t like leaving him here with these bikers. It was men like them that gave bikers a bad name. Hell, she had a tattoo and an attitude as well, but she didn’t cause trouble unless some idiot started something first. “You might want to get your intake changed out before you travel too far. The K&N is going to fill with ash and foul your plugs.”

“Deacon,” the man said, walking closer and holding out his large hand. Prue watched the exchange in her side mirror, not turning around to offer this man anything. She had a bad feeling about him. “We can ride with you to the Mexican border. Safety in numbers and all that.”

“We appreciate the offer,” Owen said, making it plain for all of them that wasn’t the case, “but we have a couple other stops to make. We have our own group to ride with.”

Owen positioned himself on the bike and started his engine before Deacon could say anything else. Prue turned her head to the side and noticed that the other three men were either eyeing the case of weapons attached to Owen’s bike or her. She didn’t care for either and followed along Owen’s actions by pressing her starter button. She glanced one more time at the veteran in the window, catching his slight nod that he had everything covered on his end. He probably did, because Prue wouldn’t be surprised if these men weren’t on their tail in around five minutes.