After the initial shock of what she said, I dug through my purse and pulled out my phone. My battery power was in the yellow, I had a signal.
I wanted to shriek. “Lane, you have to pull over. We can’t chance driving out of range.” Immediately, I lifted the radio. “This is Travco. We are pulling over. We have a signal. Anyone who has a signal use this time to get as much information as you can. Reply with copy. Over.”
“Copy,” came a voice.
“Copy,” Martin said.
“Copy.”
“Copy that,” said Alice.
I didn’t know the information they would get, but I had Carlie just start searching news stories on the internet, while I logged into our Olympus group. There had been only two posts since I last logged on.
One from Julius, “If you haven’t left. Now is the time.”
Another from Marianne who posted twelve hours earlier she was on her way and wanted to leave before the storms hit.
“Cincinnati.” I spoke.
“What?” Lane asked.
“Cincinnati isn’t hit. Or at least it wasn’t when Marianne left.”
“Can you call Julius?” he asked.
“I don’t have his number, but I’ll message him. Hopefully, he’ll have a signal, too.” Immediately, my fingers started moving. I told him we were on the way and about the storms, then I asked what he knew.
It seemed like a lifetime, but it wasn’t, and he replied.
“Where are you now?”
I quickly glanced at Lane, read the message, then replied. “Outside of Amarillo.”
“You have a long way to go. It’s bad.”
“How bad?”
“Storms have devastated the Pacific Coast, no one can even get near there. They are saying waters are three hundred miles inland. News is sketchy from out west.”
“Do you know if there is anything ahead of us?”
“What’s he saying?” asked Lane.
“West is bad. The coast is under water.”
“For real?”
I nodded, shared the phone so he could see, then looked at the alert.
Julius wrote,” The Amarillo storm is moving northeast. It’ll hit Wichita, Kansas City, and follow the jet streams southeast once it hits Chicago. It will stall and slow down before hitting Chicago.”
“Are you looking at something?” I asked. “A map.”
“I’m looking at satellite images.”
Lane said, “Ask him if there are other storms still out there.”
“Are there any others?” I questioned.
“My God, it’s worse than I thought,” he replied in one line. Then another response came, “A storm is forming in the gulf. There is talk they will try to correct it with another launch in two or three days. God help us if they do. That is how Ares is going to happen.”
“Any in our path?” I typed.
“No, but you need to keep moving. You need to get here as soon as possible. I don’t know a time frame, but once Ares hits, it will encompass the entire East Coast and decimate it. I have to go. I am headed to Olympus now. God speed.”
Lane produced a quirky look. “And like that he leaves. He’s not even there.”
“It hit faster than he expected I guess.” Another alert from him took me by surprise. This time it wasn’t a message it was an image.
Julius had taken a picture of the satellite image.
“Oh my God,” Lane said soft. “Look at them all.”
I could barely breathe, my heart pounded so hard, it was in my throat.
There were so many behind us in the west, it was hard to see a spot of land, on anywhere, not covered.
“But we’re ahead of it, right?” Lane asked. “We just got to keep moving. We’re ahead of it.”
“Yeah,” I answered. “We’re ahead of it.”
After glancing once more to the image, I put my phone away.
We were indeed ahead of it. But with our slow speed, the amount of people, and stops we’d have to make, I feared we wouldn’t be ahead of it for long.
✽✽✽
When I was nineteen, I went with my mom to my Aunt’s home in Fort Wayne, Indiana. We took a Greyhound bus. The trip forever stayed on my mind and was the sole reason I never took another bus anywhere. Back then, we didn’t have a vehicle that would have made the journey, nor could we afford airfare.
Fourteen hundred miles, thirty-five hours and nine stops.
It was a nightmare.
My Uncle Fred actually paid for our plane ride home when he found out how ridiculous the journey was.
I never thought I’d face something like that again, yet there I was, not a hundred miles into the trip and we were stopping for the first time for gas.
Alice suggested every single vehicle should fill up. That way, the next time, we’d all need gas.
The station was open, they had electricity and only took cards.
Three of us paid for everyone’s gas.
It was one of those things never mentioned in a movie or television show.
The one stop was taking forever, and it gave me a chance to work things out.
I didn’t like my calculations.
The clap of thunder rang out just before Martin walked in the RV through the side door. I was seated at the table with my maps and notebook, and I glanced up at him.
He ran his hand over his head to shuck some of the water. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
“Last car is filling now. Should be ready to go soon,” Martin told me. “Lane said you were doing some calculations?”
I nodded. “We have to lose something, Martin.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, the convoy is too long. Too many cars. Too long to stop for gas. We need to get to our destination and right now, we can’t go over fifty miles an hour. The only saving grace ahead are that authorities are telling people to dig in. That’ll keep the roads clear. But tomorrow at this time we may not be able to stop for gas. Might not be anywhere to stop.”
Do you think ditching a car or two is really going to make a difference?” he asked.
“If we had ditched two cars would we still be here getting gas?” I shook my head. “Time is of the essence, and at this pace,
