Omega Force 01- Storm Force (23 page)

Mori white-knuckled the SUV
eastward along Seawall Boulevard.
The traffic was almost nonexistent, although a few hardy, foolish souls
remained on Stewart Beach, playing in the high waves, even trying to surf. Most
of the restaurants and businesses had nailed plywood over their windows or were
in the process of doing it.

She
turned north on Ferry Road, praying to whoever might be listening that they
weren’t too late. The state would shut down the ferry system once the water got
too rough. And she and Kell needed to move fast.
Michael would come after both of them now. Before today, Kell
had been an irritation, a means Michael could use to control Mori. Now, he was
an enemy.

But
Michael would be expecting them to ride out the storm in Houston, not ferry
across Galveston Bay and drive the length of the narrow, isolated Bolivar
Peninsula into Louisiana. He was already conscious, obviously, but those wounds
would take a while to heal, even for a Dire of his strength. He was arrogant
enough to wait, thinking they’d be cowering in fear.

“There’s
a ferry at the terminal, but no line of cars waiting to get on it.” Kell leaned forward to get a better look through the
rain-spattered windshield. He tried to hide it, but Mori saw the slight wince
of pain even such a small movement gave him. They needed to get wherever they
were going and let him take the strain off his back. In that sense, the
hurricane might turn out to be a blessing. It should halt everything for at
least a couple of days. They could mend, and they could plan.

One
car, a small red sedan, was stopped in front of them at the gated entrance ramp
onto the ferry, its driver talking to a Texas DOT worker wearing a yellow
slicker. A second guy approached and signaled for Mori to roll down her window.

His
round face was weather-beaten and reddened from being pummeled by the hard
spits of rain. “We got the weather service and state DOT on the line now, seeing
if it’s safe to make one more crossing. Ferry captain will have to make the
final call, though. Any reason you folks can’t drive north to Houston and
travel that way?”

Mori’s
mind raced through the communities she knew along the peninsula. “My grandparents
are in the Gilchrist area, and I need to get them out while there’s still time.
It’ll take too long to backtrack to Houston, and you know what happened during
Ike.”

Gilchrist
had been utterly destroyed, that’s what happened, with only a single house left
standing and most of the residents who’d stayed to ride it out swept into the
sea. Mori knew the community was mostly gone, but there were always a few
stubborn residents who’d refuse to give up on their narrow strip of paradise.

The
DOT guy’s gaze scanned Mori’s face, then he bent over to look in at Kell. “If you don’t mind me saying so, ma’am,
both of you look like you need a doctor more than you need to get to
Bolivar. We’re still more’n twenty-four hours out
from landfall, but that wind’s gonna start pushing
water over the coastal road when high tide comes in, if not before.”

Kell leaned over, wedging his blood-covered left hand
between the seat and the center console, out of sight. “Sir, her grandparents
are disabled, and we really need to get them out. Do you at least know anyone
out that way who could get word to them if we can’t cross? Make sure they have
food and water if their house survives the storm surge?”

Mori
nodded. “They haven’t had phone service since Ike.” She feigned a worried look and
added, “Please?”

“Jiminy Christmas. OK, wait a minute.” The guy got on his
walkie-talkie and walked a few yards away, waving his hands in the air as he
talked. Mori heard the words “grandparents” and “Gilchrist” and “Ike.” Her hope
swelled when he walked to the small car in front and talked to his coworker.

Mori
didn’t dare speak or look around at Kell. The tenser
they looked, the better. And her tension level was off
the charts.

Finally,
the guy gave them a thumbs-up, and Mori released a breath as he approached the
window again. “Captain says he’ll do it, but it’s going to be rough. It’ll be
our last run, and then we’re shuttin’ down till the
storm blows through, so you’ll have to take your grandparents out on the road
north into Beaumont. You folks be careful.”

Mori
thanked the transportation worker and raised the SUV window, then used her left
arm to wipe the water off the vehicle’s interior. Nik already disliked her; letting mold set up inside his
SUV wouldn’t improve his opinion.

She
finally looked over at Kell. “Good acting job.”

He
smiled. “Hey, you got it started. I wouldn’t have even thought about the
endangered-grandparent story. What made you think of it?”

“I’ve
been on the peninsula a lot. There are lots of wildlife refuges and protected
lands along there. I like to go over and…” She paused, not sure how to explain.

“To let your wolf run free?” Kell rested
his head against the back of the seat as the gate onto the ferry opened. “Makes sense.”

Mori drove the SUV onto the ferry
ramp and followed a rain-soaked worker’s directions, parking the car in the
middle of the vehicle on the opposite side from the red sedan that had been in
front of them. The ferry was a broad blue-and-white ship that could park three
rows of cars along either side of the tall central staircase that led up to an
observation area. Today, it parked one car on each side.

Mori thought the ferry would sit
at the terminal a few minutes longer and see if other vehicles arrived, but the
captain wasted no time. The ship hitched like a hiccup underneath them in less
than a minute, and they began moving. She glanced over to see how Kell was doing, but his eyes were closed.

It gave her a chance to look at
the left hand now resting on his thigh. Most of the blood had dried, but the oval
of holes in the shape of Michael’s bite still oozed, and the pinkie finger was
crooked. Definitely broken. Maybe the ring finger,
too. Both were so swollen it was impossible to tell for sure, and underneath
the blood, the skin was turning purple.

The roiling waves of the Gulf
swelled toward Galveston Bay through the narrow gap between the eastern end of
the island and the western point of the peninsula. The crossing usually took
about twenty minutes, but Mori figured the ferry captain would be hauling ass
to get to Bolivar and back while he could still navigate.

The ferry took a sickening dip to
the port side, leaving the SUV leaning at a precarious angle, driver’s side
down. Then it righted briefly before tilting in the other direction. The SUV
was heavy and solid, but it swayed with each blast of wind coming off the open
water.

Kell groaned. “I’m gonna heave if this lasts too long. How far is it across?”

He
did look kind of green.

“Less than
three miles.
Think you’d feel better up on the observation deck?”

“Are you insane? If I’m gonna drown, I’m going down strapped to this seat.”

Mori
laughed, but it was more bitter than amused. “Wouldn’t it be ironic if we
survived Michael, only to die in a ferry accident?”

He
turned his head to look at her, not smiling. “We’re going to get through this.”
His voice was soft. “When we get to Cote Blanche, we can relax for a couple of
days and figure out how to handle Benedict.”

Mori
liked the sound of “we.” Maybe he’d finally stop trying to do this by himself.
“So you’ve finally accepted you can’t take him down on your own?”

Now it was his turn to sound
bitter. “Oh yeah. That point was made loud and clear
today. I realized something else, too. It’s not just that Benedict’s strong or
that he’s an alpha. Oh, holy shit!” Kell grabbed the
door handle as another swell hit them broadside, then
tilted them in the opposite direction seconds later. A cascade of water shot
over the side of the ferry and doused the window next to Kell.
Mori started feeling queasy herself.

Finally,
the ferry righted itself again, and Mori let out a
tense breath. The Bolivar terminal was finally in sight.
Keep talking. Don’t look at the water.

“What
do you mean, it’s not just that he’s an alpha?” In her
world, alphas were like the president — or, in Michael’s case, a malevolent
dictator.

“I
mean — fuck!” A dip to starboard, and another wall of
water hit the passenger-side window next to Kell’s
head, hard enough to rock the SUV. He closed his eyes again and swallowed hard.
“I mean that Michael’s not only an alpha. He’s a sociopath. You realize that,
don’t you?”

Mori
frowned as a lightbulb went off in her head. In all
the angst over Michael, all the fear, all the anger, she’d always been thinking
of him as her alpha. She’d considered him only in terms of the Dire culture, not as an individual.

What
if Kell were right?

“Tell
me what — ow!” The ferry took a final lurch to the left
just before settling into one of the three Bolivar terminal slips, cracking
Mori’s head against the SUV window.

Now
wasn’t the time to talk. She gripped the steering wheel with both hands and
carefully steered the SUV off the unsteady ferry, rolling down her window at a
DOT guy who approached just before they reached the gated exit.

“You
folks need to get off the peninsula as soon as you can. Evacuation’s mandatory
now.” He shouted against the gusts that buffeted the hood of his navy
windbreaker.

Kell leaned over and shouted. “Just the peninsula
evacuated? What about Galveston?”

“Galveston and Houston, too. Houston’s recommended, not
mandatory, but it’s gonna get bad. Highway Eighty-Seven’s
still open for now, but cut north first chance you get. Water’s going to start
coming over the road in places. Be careful.”

Mori
nodded and drove on, passing quickly through the settled area near the ferry
and onto the isolated stretch of highway that hugged the Gulf side of the
peninsula. Angry waves crashed into the rocky seawall until the road shifted farther
into the center of the narrow peninsula and took them away from the shoreline.
Hurricane-proof houses had sprung back up along the highway in spots — or as
hurricane-proof as technology could make them, standing high on deeply embedded
stilts that would theoretically keep them high and dry when the storm surge
arrived.

Mostly,
though, the land was flat and desolate, with not even a tree to break the bands
of wind and rain moving ashore with more intensity. Neither Mori nor Kell tried to talk. She was focused on keeping the SUV on
the highway, and the few times she wrenched her gaze from the road to glance at
Kell, his eyes were closed. She hoped he could sleep.
Relaxing the muscles along his spine would help his back, and sleep would help
him forget the injury to his hand. She had a feeling he hadn’t even begun to
feel the pain of that one yet, as it had been masked by adrenaline.

At
Johnson Bayou, the houses visible from the highway became more numerous, but
most looked empty. All had plywood covering their windows. People were either
socked inside or gone. Just past Crystal Beach, the highway jogged back toward
the Gulf.

Mori
watched the looming clouds with worry. It was only 1:00 p.m. but looked more
like dusk. When they finally reached Gilchrist and the bridge spanning Rollover
Pass, Mori saw she’d been right. A few hardy souls had rebuilt, but not many.

She
drove slowly along the coastal highway, gasping each time a wave sent water
rushing up the narrow shoreline and onto the road.

“Damn.”
Kell shifted in his seat and looked to the right. “Big one coming in. Hold on to the wheel.”

This
time the water came ashore with enough force that it still had energy to spend
as it washed over the road. The SUV tires left the asphalt, and gritting her
teeth, Mori steered into the turn as it swept them sideways.

They
ended up with the SUV’s nose on the left shoulder of the highway, but since
they were the only fools on the road, no damage had been done. She backed the
SUV into position and moved forward again, driving slowly, holding her breath
at each rush of water that crossed the highway around their tires.

A
half hour later, they reached the eastern end of the peninsula and turned
north, running from the weather now instead of crossing through it.

“That
was hairy. Nice job.”

Mori
glanced at Kell, who looked as relieved as she felt.
“I hoped you were getting some sleep.” Last night hadn’t been exactly restful
for either of them.

“And
miss that? I just didn’t want to distract you. Want me to drive a while?” She
must have looked skeptical. “C’mon, let me drive. It won’t make my back any
worse. Might even help me relax.”

She
nodded and pulled off to buy gas and change drivers. Once the power got knocked
out, they’d have to rely on whatever gas they had, so it made sense to top off
the tank as often as was practical. Plus, they still had long stretches of
isolated roads to cover before reaching I-10 and what she hoped would be a
faster drive into Central Louisiana.

Once
they’d settled back into the drive and were able to go faster, Mori’s thoughts
returned to Michael. “Tell me what you meant earlier about Michael being a
sociopath. Do you mean that literally, or do you just mean he’s screwed up in
general?”

Kell glanced at her, then back at
the road. “I meant it literally. Remember the old Charles Manson case? Jim Jones and the Kool-Aid?”

Mori
laughed at the idea of Michael having revival meetings and passing out doses of
poison or collecting a tribe of naive groupies. “I don’t see the connection.”

Kell turned up the wiper speed as another round of heavy
rain set in, and remained silent for a couple of minutes, squinting as he
struggled to see the edges of the highway.

“He
has the classic signs you look for in a sociopathic personality,” he finally
said, settling back as the rain slacked and lifting his fingers off the
steering wheel as he talked. “First, he can be really charming and engaging,
right?”