The Journal: Raging Tide: (The Journal Book 4) (19 page)

I reached over and put my hand on his arm.
“Jim, we can’t anticipate everything. And let’s face it, my capture
could have turned out worse, a
lot
worse. Instead of being
brutalized by an impotent sadist, he could have given me to his
men. As it was, I was only beaten and not raped.” I sat in silence
for a minute. “Which also brings up something else. When we get
back home, I don’t want this discussed. Eric and Jason are never to
know about this incident.
No one
is to know. Promise
me.”

Jim stopped the vehicle and turned to me. “I
promise, Allex.”

He brushed a lock of hair away from my face
and gently kissed me, then put the Hummer back in gear and followed
the road.

*

“I can see the bridge ahead, Jim, it’s maybe
a half mile,” I said excitedly. Crossing back to the other side put
us that much closer to home.

The Hummer skittered in the mud and Jim
slowed to keep control. We were almost at the bridge when it became
obvious we were having another earthquake! I know that aftershocks
can continue for quite some time when there is a major quake such
as the one that opened this rift, or was this a new one?

Jim swerved hard and put us onto the now
swaying structure. “Hang on, Allex!”

This bridge wasn’t built as strongly as the
one further north. I guess that would make sense, since this was
for local traffic only and not heavy equipment. The massive wooden
boards that extended from side to side were rippling as Jim sped
up. The Hummer bounced over the unevenness with ease and Jim
delivered us safely to the other side just as the tremor stopped. I
gasped for breath.

“I never thought I would have to cross
another bridge during another earthquake,” Jim said, emerging from
the Hummer. “I really am getting too old for this shit.” He was
breathing hard and seemed a bit shaky. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. That was scary…” I said. “I
never doubted that you wouldn’t get us across though.”

“I couldn’t let us get stranded on the wrong
side, Allex. I’m sure in time we would have gotten across, though,
even if we had to get a chopper! I didn’t want to wait for a ride,”
he laughed. “Hopefully, there’s no damage to the roads on this
side.”

We drove north on the uneven gravel service
road for almost an hour. Another time that hour would have put us
all the way to the dam construction, however, we were only about
halfway there. The recent rain had washed away some of the gravel,
leaving patches of slick mud. Even though it wasn’t anything the
Hummer couldn’t traverse, it did slow us down.

“What in the world?” Jim hit the brakes and
brought us to a stop. There, at the beginning of what appeared to
be a long driveway, was a “yard sale” sign with colorful balloons
dancing beside it in the breeze.

“Those balloons are new,” I said quietly.
“Someone is having a yard sale. I bet they don’t have many takers.”
During my online research at the Soo, I found out that out of the
three hundred thousand residents of the Upper Peninsula, there were
fewer than a hundred thousand left. For being one third the land
mass of the state of Michigan, we now had fewer people than a
medium sized city. Losing two-thirds of our population to the flu,
violence, and the natural disasters sat heavy on my heart.

“That means people, Allex. Do you want to
investigate?” Jim asked cautiously.

“Yeah, I do, Jim. I love yard sales. More
than that, I’m curious about what they would be selling. We all
know money isn’t worth much anymore.” He turned up the long poorly
maintained and rutted road.

A half mile up the road we came to a
clearing. There was a large, older clapboard house with a wide
covered porch, a barn, a chicken coop—which seemed to be ever
popular and accepted now—a few smaller buildings of questionable
use, and a very large garden with people working in it. The house
itself was sided with a yellow-green vinyl, and the porch hadn’t
seen a paintbrush in many years. On the porch sat a couple of women
and in front of the porch was a long table. A hand drawn sign that
read “for sale or trade” was taped to the edge.

All of the women stood as we pulled in. Jim
made his usual turn, faced the Hummer outward and we stepped
out.

“Welcome!” one of the women called out.
“Come on closer!” The work in the garden had come to a halt. I
could now see there were three men doing the hard hoeing and the
fourth was a woman with a shotgun. The men quickly got back to
work.

We stepped cautiously forward.

“What are you looking for?” the same woman
asked pleasantly. As she stepped closer to us, I could see she was
in her late forties and graying early. The other two kept a few
steps behind her; she was the alpha female of a dominantly female
household.

“Oh, we’re not looking for anything in
particular,” I said. “I will admit we stopped more out of
curiosity. Yard sale signs are not exactly common anymore.”

“Got that right!” she giggled. “We haven’t
had a sale all day.” She seemed friendly enough, and wasn’t armed.
“Say, how about a trade? Anything on the table for some simple
labor. Our men aren’t what they used to be and are having a
difficult time swinging an axe. Could your man split some wood for
us?” she asked, giving Jim a long look.

The request seemed innocuous. I looked at
Jim.

“Is there anything on the table you want?”
he asked. I stepped over to the table while Jim hung back and let
my gaze slide over the meager items. A pair of earrings caught my
attention, as did a bayonet. I like pretty things as much as the
next woman, but I’m a practical person at heart.

“Those are real diamonds,” the woman said in
my ear. “Worth more than a half hour of splitting wood, but we can
dicker.”

Jim took off his shirt and picked up the
axe.

“Johnny!” the woman called out. “Get your
ass over here and stack the bolts!” Out in the garden a middle-aged
man stood, stretching his back and rolling his muscular shoulders
in a very familiar way, his bald head shining with sweat. When he
turned my heart stood still.

John
???

Was this why he never came back? Had he been
abducted by some amazon wannabees and held in captivity? The man
turned fully and I could see it wasn’t him. My heart was still
beating hard as I chastised myself. I was actually glad it wasn’t
him. John had left me so many times before I couldn’t have him back
in my life.

While Jim split wood, a light sheen
emphasizing his muscles, this alpha, Lois, invited me to sit. I
noticed the others watching him too.

“It’s good to see more dominant women,” Lois
said. “We got tired of being pushed around and forced to do all the
hard work while our men sat around drinking beer. Even before the
big quake we were organizing to revolt.” She sniggered. “Now the
men serve
us
.”

“I see.” I really did. We had stumbled into
a female dominated society and the women were taking revenge on the
men for all the suffering they had been through. If they wanted to
live their lives that way, that was their choice. We would be
leaving soon enough.

“Your man… he’s strong and easy on the eyes.
How much do you want for him?” Lois asked. “Maybe those diamond
earrings?” Her grin wasn’t evil, it was delusional.

I looked out at Jim, admiring the fluid
movements of his body. “Oh, he’s not for sale. I’m going to keep
him,” I said, playing for time. I stood and stepped off the porch,
picking up the bayonet. I would rather have the only weapon on that
table in my hands, not theirs. “Jim!” I called out. “That’s
enough.” He sunk the axe deep into the block and grabbed his
shirt.

“Think about my offer,” Lois said.

“Will do,” I lied.

“While you’re thinking, why not let us keep
him for the night and give him a test drive?” she smirked. I
noticed how the other women were now closing in.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Jim, we’re leaving
now
!”

The others were getting way too close to
him. I drew my Beretta.

“You touch him, you die,” I said calmly. I
know they understood I meant it when they all froze.

*

At the end of the drive Jim turned
north.

“What the hell was going on back there,
Allex?” he asked, maneuvering around a pothole.

“They wanted to buy you and I wouldn’t sell.
Now please, don’t stop until we get back into the restricted
area!”

I couldn’t believe I wasn’t shaking. Maybe
it was knowing that I would indeed have shot to save him that was
keeping me so calm. That or the anger I was still feeling.

It had only
been a couple of weeks since we were here at the dam, and what
tremendous progress they’d made. We arrived in time to see them
install one of several concrete slabs.

“Welcome back, Colonel Andrews, Lieutenant
Smeth,” Captain Argyle said. We found him near the new structure on
a walkie, giving directions to a hovering Chinook helicopter. A
large slab of concrete hung suspended underneath, secured by
guidelines trailing down to the dam framework.

We watched in awe and fascination as the
Chinook winch lowered its load to within inches of the water, men
on either side guiding it into place. It vanished beneath the
waves. A few minutes later the winch retracted, and the copter
landed behind us.

“What just happened?” I asked Argyle.

“In the past two weeks we’ve built an
underwater scaffold that these foot-thick ten by ten foot sections
slide into. It seemed the best way to make the strongest blockade
to stop the water. There is a team of divers down there right now
securing that piece. These slabs we’re using are about the only
thing available to withstand the pressure of the water. Each one
weighs about seven tons. We started with six inch sheets at three
and a half tons each, however that wasn’t even phasing the
Chinook’s maximum sling-load capacity, which is thirteen tons, so
we made them thicker. They’re holding up exceptionally well.
Without being able to divert the water, a poured concrete dam
wasn’t practical. These pre-poured slabs are doing the trick and
quickly.”

“I gather you found the bottom, Captain?”
Jim asked.

“Ah, yes, we were almost there before. The
rift bottoms out at two hundred ten feet in the center. The chasm
is like a wedge, so we’re not dealing with all of it at two hundred
feet. As it is, we need over six hundred of these slabs to
completely cover the opening. Fortunately they can be manufactured
just a few miles away,” Argyle said. “That little tremor we had
earlier was a good test of the framework. It never budged.”

“How far along are you?” I asked.

“We started with the insertions a few days
ago. That was number three hundred you saw go in. When they are all
in place and the flow is either stopped or slowed enough, we will
start backfilling the southern face with rocks and boulders,
whatever we can get that will fortify the wall.”

“You’re making good progress. Have you run
into any other problems?” Jim asked.

Captain Argyle said, “Yeah. Fish.”

“Fish?”

“Monstrous fish. Have you ever seen a
sturgeon, Lieutenant?” he asked.

“Yes, many years ago at my aunt’s cottage on
the St. Clair River. It was almost five feet long,” I replied.

“These seem to be rising from the depths off
of Munising where it was over fourteen hundred feet deep. The first
one we got pictures of was eighteen feet long, and was guessed to
weigh close to five
thousand
pounds! It scared the crap out
of the diver when it got curious. They are relatively passive fish
with no teeth, but they look enough like a gator with their bony
plates and back ridges to be intimidating,” Argyle said.

I was stunned. “How many have been
spotted?”

“At least ten have gone down the river now.
Our resident ichthyologist believes the ancient sturgeons are
looking for deeper water now, and a new feeding ground. This
species has changed very little since prehistoric times.”

Ten
? Was that what had bumped me
closer to the tree when I fell in the river?

“The sturgeons are huge, however, the
Muskellunge are a bigger issue. They’re aggressive,” Captain Argyle
said.

“The what?” Jim asked.

“Most people know them as Muskies. The Tiger
Muskie is a cross between the muskellunge and a pike. They are
almost thirty percent head and all of that is teeth. When that
migration started, the divers went down in mesh cages. Those fish
are often four feet long. These have been coming in at five and six
feet. Muskies have been known to snatch small dogs that are
swimming,” Argyle said. “Looks like they’re getting ready for the
next drop. You’ll have to excuse me.”

We watched in fascination as the Chinook
rose and hovered. On the ground, men scrambled to attach the giant
hook to a waiting slab of concrete. The helicopter rose slowly,
taking up the slack, and then lifted the seven ton section with
ease.

*

“That was amazing to watch, Jim. I’m glad we
stopped,” I said when we were once more on the road and heading
toward Sawyer.

“I am too,” he said sullenly.

“What’s up, Jim? You have an edge to your
voice. What are you worried about?”

“This stop at Sawyer has me concerned. I
have a major piece of paperwork to take care of and I can’t be
around to fend off questions about your service record. I know
Hogan was starting to dig and now that he’s back online I’ve no
doubt he’s already been in touch with Kopley about you,” Jim
stated. “It won’t take much to find you don’t exist.”

I couldn’t help but grin. “I don’t think you
need to worry about that. Kim and Billy took care of that.”

“What do you mean ‘took care of it’?”