A twinge of worry hit my gut, but I kept telling myself, he wouldn’t have to go far before he was out of the disaster area.
Or so I hoped.
“Ready?” Lane asked.
“I am.”
Lane reached out, placing a hand on Carlie and the other on Reese. Keeping them close to him and within his reach as he led the way to the garage.
I didn’t need to worry if the door was unlocked, the glass was broken, so we had a way in. But as I was about to climb in, Lane stopped me.
“Hold on. Before you hurt yourself.” He grabbed the handle and pulled.
The door opened.
Carlie giggled.
I gave a quick scowl to her, then stepped in as Lane held the door.
“Hello,” I called out, not expecting an answer. It was an old auto shop, in the waiting room was evidence Skip wasn’t really worried about the comfort of those who waited for their vehicles. Four old chairs, metal with vinyl covering. An old desk was there with a black telephone. The desk chair was toppled over.
I reached for the phone to check for a tone and saw right on the desk were my keys on top of my invoice. “Holy crap. He was charging me six hundred and thirty dollars for a hose. Does that’s sound right?”
“No,” Lane said as he walked by me with the kids to the back garage.
I lifted the phone, there was no dial tone.
“Um, I change my answer,” Lane called out. “That’s a big yes.”
“For a freaking hose?” I set down the phone and walked to the back.
“Yeah, Jana, this is a classic. I can’t believe he found a hose. Maybe he fitted one.” He shook his head. “Oh wow, you didn’t tell me you bought Mr. Williams’ 1977 Travco 290. I wondered what happened to it after he died.”
“I bought it and I don’t think it’s that old.”
“Yeah, it is. It was his pride and joy.” He ran his hand over the side of the blue and white RV.
“I know. He was always keeping it pristine,” I said.
“I can’t believe you bought this. Chuck Kreeson was making a deal with him over this before Mr. Williams died. He was going to get it for eighteen thousand.”
I laughed. “Then he was getting ripped off. Mrs. Williams sold it to me for twelve hundred.”
“No, you got a deal. This is beautiful, why do you call her Becky?’
“Okay, my mom had this friend, her name was Becky, and she always wore patterns with flowers, saying they would come back. As soon as I saw the upholstery, I thought of Becky.”
Lane snapped his finger. “Oh, wow, I remember her. She wore that God awful purple, patterned dress to your mom’s funeral.”
“The only smile I had that day.”
Lane smiled and then it dropped from his face. “Where’s Reese? Reese!”
“Reese!” I called as well. “Carlie?”
“He was just right here. Maybe he went inside.” She grabbed for the door.
“Guys,” Reese excitedly called, running back into the garage.
“Buddy,” Lane exhaled. “Where’d you go? You can’t be running off like you’re Carl from the Walking Dead.”
“Sorry, I heard something,” Reese replied. “I went to peek. Come on, I saw people.” He ran out.
Of course, we all followed. I did swipe up my keys on the way back out. When I stepped through the door, Reese was stranding there facing the diner.
“I saw someone walk in there.” He pointed.
I didn’t see anyone, but it was worth a shot to look. Maybe they knew something. A huge part of me was hoping I wouldn’t hear anything that would confirm what Julius had been saying all long.
Making sure the kids were close to us, we walked the twenty feet to the diner.
It was a long rectangular building, not too big. The door led to a small area with a gumball machine. As soon as we entered there, we knew Reese was correct.
There were people in there.
From what I could see through the window, it didn’t look like the diner was operational. A man wearing whit with an apron stood behind a table where several people sat.
I recognized one of them as Skip.
Pushing open the interior diner door, I stepped in, leading my family.
I wasn’t sure if they were talking and suddenly shut up when we walked in or if they were sitting silently.
It was quiet, except for the static sound cutting in and out with an occasional voice or blip of a word poking through.
An older woman immediately stood up from the table. She wore an apron and long dress with a black shirt and name tag, I was certain she was a server there.
“Are you folks okay?” she asked, rushing over. “Do the kids need anything?”
I saw her name tag. “We’re fine, Liza, thank you. We’re waiting for someone.”
Skip spoke up, “That’s Martin Garrison’s family. Your motorhome is done, by the way. Credit card machine is down, so unless you have cash, you might have to wait.”
I curled my lip, was he seriously wanting paid for repairs. Then I remembered he didn’t know the world was ending.
“Oh, stop that,” Liza flung out her hand. “Have a seat, are you waiting for Martin?”
I nodded. “We are. He took his housekeeper to check on her family.”
Skip mumbled but was barely heard. “That’s not gonna turn out good.”
Quickly, Lane looked at him. “What does that mean? She’s twenty miles out. Did the three funnels traveled that far?”
Skip shook his head. “They’re saying a pair of them traveled most of the way. The three you’re talking about came through here.”
“Who?” Lane asked. “Who is saying?”
Liza pointed to the man with the radio. “Whoever is doing the talking. Whoever we pick up. We’re trying to get more information. When we do, we lose it.”
“They are saying there was at least nine fronts,” Skip said. “Nine hit this area. Some with one funnel, some with multiples. But nine different …”
