Apocalypse Family (Book 2): Family Reunion J Read online

  She started the new Ford Focus that the company provided for her trips to the four corners of West Virginia. It was a basic model that had replaced the basic model she had worn out with her frequent trips to fingerprint prospective employees for several different state agencies and private companies. Power windows and door locks were how the company showed its appreciation for her loyalty and professionalism. Ha! Still hadn’t gotten her one with cruise control. The fat cats at the top of the food chain drove around in stylish SUVs while the peons that did all the work got stuck with these little gas misers. Oh well, someday we’ll move down to Surfside and live out our days on the beach, she mused as she pulled away from the house.

  The trip to Martinsburg usually took about four hours in good weather and it was a beautiful summer day. It made the trip so much nicer when it wasn’t raining, or worse, snowing. She had taken to listening to audiobooks to pass the time, and was listening to one of Baldacci’s stories on this trip. She enjoyed the way he mixed the thrilling spy stuff with a collection of quirky characters. She was about a half hour out from Martinsburg when she got a text from Ryan: “flight delayed, I will let you know when I arrive in Dallas.” Great, his trip had started badly; poor guy couldn’t catch a break.

  Her first stop was the Pro-Print field office. It was just a hole-in-the-wall space they kept to allow customers the option of sending single new employee prospects to be fingerprinted. For the larger groups, Jay would usually go to their site. She had two appointments in the office, then it was off to the Diamond Dust Casino to fingerprint thirty-five new dealers. Anytime a large poker tournament was going to take place, the casino would hire dealers from all over the country, and was required to run background checks on all of them.

  Gone were the days of smearing an individual’s fingers with ink and rolling them onto a paper card. It was all done electronically now using a device that would scan the fingerprints and store the digital information on her computer. It was still an art form to get a good print though, and there were always those tough cases. The older a person was, the more worn down their fingerprints became, especially if that person worked with their hands. Then there were the amputees and those with disfiguring scars. Jay rose through the ranks and started years ago when the technology was in its infancy and she knew all the tricks to getting viable prints.

  As usually happened, one of her appointments was a no-show. Jay had waited thirty minutes past the set time, but she had the casino scheduled for four-thirty and couldn’t wait any longer. She packed up her gear and headed for the casino, which was about another forty-five minutes east. She swung in at the golden arches to get a quick fix to last her until she could get some real food. It was a guilty pleasure she allowed herself on these road trips. She normally ate healthy and her workout guru told her not to think of these burger stops as “cheating” but “treating.”

  Huh, the line of cars was long for this time of day. She glanced inside the restaurant, but the lines in there were long as well. Oh well, she had a few minutes leeway. Ten minutes later only two cars had ordered. She would leave but another couple of cars had come in after her and blocked her in. She sat there getting more irritated by the minute. Damn it! If I’m late that old crone who runs HR at the casino will be calling Dick, and then I’ll have to hear about it for a week. She decided to cut Deloris off at the pass and call Dick, her boss, and let him know about the no-show.

  She got through to him on his cell after trying the office to no avail. “Hey, I got stood up by my two o’clock, which has put me behind schedule. I told Angie to call the casino and tell them I would be late.”

  Dick’s gravelly voice sounded strangely tight. “I have half a mind to have you head back to Charleston now.”

  “Seriously Dick, it’s not that big of a deal. I’ll probably only be ten minutes late,” Jay said, frustrated at his being a jerk.

  “It’s not that, there are some strange things going on…” His voice trailed off.

  Dick was an ex-state trooper and several of the company’s background investigators were moonlighting troopers. He heard all the local law enforcement rumors, and what he heard today made him extremely nervous.

  “Look, it’s probably nothing, and besides, you’re better off staying put than trying to travel tonight. Get the prints from the casino, then hunker down there. Don’t worry about the additional cost of staying at the casino hotel, I’ll cover it.”

  The conversation had Jay confused and wondering if Dick had been drinking. “Dick, what the hell is going on?”

  “Look, I can’t talk right now,” he said. “Call me when you get to the casino and I’ll have a better idea if this is just BS or if you need to be concerned.” She was about to ask him what she had to be concerned about when he disconnected the call. “Butthead” she said, tossing her phone onto the passenger seat. The line still hadn’t moved. She blasted the horn, then signaled the car behind her that she wanted to get out of line. He could back up a little and it would probably be enough room for her to get out. He shook his head and held up his hands, acting like he didn’t know what she was saying.

  Jay hated confrontation, but the stalled line and the conversation with her boss had her pissed off. She opened her door, then remembered her seat belt. She floundered around getting it unhooked and then turned on the poor guy behind her. “Listen mister, back your damn car up or I will kick your frickin’ headlights out!” He gave her the stink-eye, locked his doors, and remained behind his window while reaching for his cell phone. She made as if to kick his door, then turned and stomped back to her car.

  “Unbelievable, just unbelievable, this day could not get any worse,” she muttered to herself as she noticed that the car ahead had pulled up to the ordering kiosk. She slammed her door, hit the gas, and almost ran into the next car before stomping on her brakes. Then she felt the flush of embarrassment; she was letting this crappy day get the best of her, and was turning her anger on these people. She slunk down in her seat a little and avoided looking into the rearview mirrors.

  When it was finally her turn at the menu, the tinny voice hissed out of the speaker. “Wadda ya want?” The combination of the squeaky rude teenager’s voice and the crappy speaker ran through her like fingernails on a chalkboard. The frustration she had squashed down earlier boiled back over. “Wadda I want? I want to know why the hell I have been sitting in this damn line for the last twenty-five minutes! I want to know if you are seriously giving me attitude after making me wait this long. I want…”

  He cut her off in mid-rant. “Look lady, I have four people working in here right now. The other eight didn’t show up for their shift. If you want attitude I can give you attitude. If you want a burger, come make it your own damn self—I’m fed up with this shit.” The speaker went silent and she could see the tall, skinny, greasy-haired manager through the window as his arms flailed about and he threw his headset across the room, threw his apron down, and stormed off toward the door. For a moment she thought he was coming out for her in the parking lot and she reached for her pepper spray. But he made a right turn out of the door, went to his car, banged his door shut, and peeled out of the parking lot. Now she could see the person ahead of her arguing with another hapless teenager through the drive-up window, whereupon he too abandoned his post. What in the world was going on? This day was just getting crazier by the minute.

  Having spent a half hour not getting food, she fumed while driving to the casino and turned on the radio to try to distract herself. Jay had preset stations for Martinsburg because she was over here so often. The first station had some stupid commercial on; she hit the next button and heard the familiar voice of her favorite nationally syndicated radio talk-show host.

  “Folks, I’m telling you this is no joke. The government has recalled the flu vaccine. There are reports from all over the world of mass rioting, even cannibalism. I know what you’re thinking, this is some gag that I’m putting out here, and it’s not. There is talk of grounding all f
lights to reduce the spread of the flu pandemic…” The radio station cut Dutch Ringold off in mid-sentence. The emergency broadcast system began squawking its unnerving preannouncement signal. A stern, straightforward announcer replaced the normal electronic-sounding voice. This is the emergency broadcasting system. At the request of the Surgeon General, the President of the United States has recalled the vaccine for the South African flu. The flu has mutated and the vaccine is no longer effective. If you have flu symptoms, please remain at home isolated from those who are not already sick. All public events have been canceled; there will be a presidential address at eight p.m. this evening. Please stay tuned to your local radio or TV stations for further information for your area. This is the emergency broadcasting system. The message began to loop, repeating itself.

  Jay snatched up her phone and called Ryan. I’m sorry, all circuits are busy, please hang up and try your call again… the pleasant woman’s voice intoned. Jay ended the call and immediately tried it again with the same result. She tried to call Dick back; once again the same message greeted her attempt. She texted Auddy. The bar began to run across the screen indicating that the message was sending, then just as quickly ground to a halt. Send failure.

  Chapter 2

  Day 1

  Eastbound Route 9

  Martinsburg, WV

  Jay

  The blast of a horn made her jerk her head up from her phone. She swerved just barely in time to miss the oncoming traffic. Sweat collected at the base of her neck and she felt it trickle down between her breasts. She regained control of the car and got back in her lane, only to be rear-ended; she slammed back into her seat as the sound of tearing metal and breaking glass enveloped her. She never lost consciousness, as the car seemed to disintegrate around her.

  It ended as suddenly as it began. She looked around and winced at the pain in her neck. The car behind her had pushed her off the road and into an empty drainage ditch. She tried to move but realized she was wedged in tightly. She examined herself and saw no blood, could feel no broken bones or any extreme pain other than in her neck, which burned whenever she turned her head. Oh crap, the fingerprint scanner is probably toast, Dick is going to have a fit. She realized how silly that thought was and shook her head, which caused her neck to spasm. She tried to move again. There was no way she was getting out of this wreck without help. So, she started screaming for help.

  Surely someone had called the police or fire department. She stopped yelling for help and listened. She heard several cars drive by, slow, then accelerate away. Are you kidding me? she thought. This happened several more times; she lost track of how many. Her voice was giving out on her. She felt herself getting woozy.

  The sound of a motorcycle woke her. She had no idea how long she had been out. It wasn’t just any motorcycle, it was a Harley. She could tell by the deep, throaty vibration. She made a snap decision and started screaming again, hoping whoever it was would hear her.

  She quit screaming when she heard the motor die. She tried to turn her head to see, but the intervening time of being passed out had stiffened her neck. She heard footsteps crunching broken glass as whoever it was approached. Now she wondered if calling out to a biker in this situation was the smartest thing to do.

  A shadow fell across her; she looked up to see a mountain of a man looking back at her. “Name’s Bob, ma’am, most folks call me Buffalo. Are you hurt?”

  He was well over six feet tall, probably closer to seven. He looked to weigh in at least three-fifty, maybe four hundred pounds. She knew though, from when she and Ryan owned and rode a Harley, that most bikers were just people, no different, no worse than most, perhaps better than some. “No, well, my neck is really sore, but I don’t think I have any broken bones. I’m stuck in here, can you go get help?”

  He leaned down and grasped the steering wheel. “Let me know if I hurt you, okay?” He pulled steadily on the wheel; he didn’t jerk it, or grunt loudly, he just pulled. Unbelievably, it began to move, the entire steering column creaking as he continued to apply pressure to it. She felt the pressure loosen, but her legs were still firmly stuck.

  “It’s my legs, they’re stuck between the seat and the dash.” Jay said, pointing.

  “Hmmm,” was all he said, as he stood back up to assess the situation.

  He walked out of her line of sight. “Wait, don’t leave me!” she blurted before having a chance to think about it.

  “Relax miss; I’m just trying to get a better angle on the seat.” As he said it, she felt the seat being pulled back from behind her. She was now completely free from her thighs up, but her legs were still caught. A boot appeared next to her head, then another as he wiggled into the car from the back. “Not much left of the ass of this thing but I think I can make it work.” He continued to wedge himself in beside her. He was able to get his hips past the seat to gain some leverage on the dashboard.

  Jay considered this. There is no way he’ll be able to push them apart. He started pushing again and the seat and the dash began to separate.

  He stopped for a moment. “You okay?”

  “Yes, honestly I think I’m in shock—I would never have believed one man without the Jaws of Life stood any chance of extracting me.”

  He chuckled and reapplied the pressure again, his massive leg muscles clearly bulging, straining at the jeans he was wearing. Again, she felt the pressure easing. He blew out a held breath. “Now that was a bit of a workout.” It took him a couple of minutes to free himself and get back out of the wreck.

  “Now, I’m going to pull on you real easy. If I hurt you, you just sing out, okay?”

  She gripped the collar of his leather jacket and tried to relax. It wasn’t comfortable, but the pain she felt was minimal and only lasted a few seconds as she was finally freed. He carried her to the grass and set her down carefully. He went back to his bike and returned with a bottle of water. “Here, drink this,” he said, handing it to her. “Now don’t be alarmed, but I am going to examine you to make sure nothing’s broken.” He noticed how she tensed. “Easy, ma’am, I was a medic in the army. I promise to be professional about it.”

  The idea that this giant was a medic in the army made her laugh.

  “Now what’s so funny about that?” he asked, grinning at her.

  “If you were the medic, I’d hate to see what the other guys in your squad looked like.”

  “Well ma’am, it just so happens that we all were medically trained for combat triage. Multitasking was a very high priority for us Rangers.”

  “My name is Jay, Bob, and thank you for getting me out of there.”

  “Well, you’re welcome, Jay, is that as in Blue-Jay?” he asked with eyebrows raised.

  “Nope, just Jay, like the single letter that comes after I and before K.”

  “You don’t appear to have any broken bones,” he said as he finished feeling all her extremities. “Let’s have a look at that neck. Any numbness in your arms or legs?”

  “No, no numbness. I can feel my toes wiggle in my boots.”

  “You want to try and stand up?”

  “Yes.”

  With that, he gently helped her to her feet. “You certainly have a light touch for such a big man,” she said. Then, flushing, she said, “I’m sorry, that was rude.”

  “Never rude to compliment someone, Jay,” he said, smiling at her.

  He looked around, and for the first time so did Jay, gingerly moving her whole body to take in the scene. The driver of the car that had rammed into her was stuck halfway out of his windshield. She put her hand out and Bob quickly steadied her. “Oh my, that’s a first for me.”

  “Sorry, I should have warned you. What now?”

  She looked at him quizzically, then it hit her. She was stranded here. “Where are the police?” she said as if she just realized they weren’t there.

  “That is a good question. I’m afraid that they are either otherwise engaged or at home sick. I don’t rightly know. Where were you headed wh
en this happened?”

  “To the casino to fingerprint dealers. Guess that’s not going to happen—my equipment was in the trunk.” She gestured with a nod at the wreck, and immediately regretted it as her neck burned.

  “I can give you a ride someplace if you’d like?” He offered.

  “I guess I’ll go to the casino. At least I can get a room there and figure out what to do next. Is that too far out of your way?”

  “Nah, I go right by there.”

  His motorcycle, a Harley Davidson 2006 Road King Classic, looked ready for anything. The rear end sat lower than the front, which made it look like it strained against some unseen force, wanting to leap forward to swallow up anything in its path. The full windshield was something that cool bikers would frown at, but people who rode a lot knew the value of it. The metal flake Black Cherry paint gleamed in the sun. Her first thought as an ex-Harley owner was the chrome on this beast must take hours to clean.

  “You ever ride before?” he asked, handing her a spare helmet from the hard-sided saddlebag.

  “Yes, we used to have an ’06 Heritage Softail Classic.”

  He stepped over the bike rather than throwing a leg over, as a normal-sized human would have to do. It looked like a sportster underneath his huge frame. She deftly mounted the bike behind him as he fired the engine. She leaned with him as he wove between the crashed vehicles they passed. Apparently, she was not the only one who was distracted today.

  The sun set behind them as they roared down the road. If not for the circumstances, this would have been an enjoyable evening ride. The ride of the Road King was much nicer than that of the Softail. She remembered how her ass ached after a hundred miles on the Heritage. The guy who named the Softail obviously hadn’t ridden the bike for four hundred miles. Thinking of that trip made her miss Ryan.

  Twilight was disappearing and full-on darkness was threatening for the last ten minutes of their trip. The turnoff for the casino was just ahead. Bob slowed the bike gently at first, then he hit the back brake hard and she felt the rear end slide out a bit. Just as suddenly he cranked the accelerator, righted the bike, and shot down the road to the right. When they arrived at the casino hotel, he pulled under the canopy and killed the engine.