She stood there taking in the sight of the missing bridge, then returned to the truck.
We arrived at the visitors’ center, the building was in great shape, no broken windows, only a few scattered tree limbs. There was no sign of Martin and the others. There was some indication they had been there, footsteps and horseshoe prints in the mud, and then we spotted something else.
Tire tracks.
“Two sets,” Alice indicated. “One was a car and the other a small truck like this one.” She walked from the parking lot to the road. “Looks like our horses followed the vehicles.”
“The rescue teams.”
“Could be or it could be people from White Sulphur Springs trying to get across the bridge.”
“Why did they stop here?”
“Because Martin said the bridge was gone. One thing I’m almost positive of is the horses followed.”
“You don’t think people came and killed them, do you?”
“What? All twelve people?” Alice laughed. “Then took the time to hide all twelve. No. That didn’t happen.” She walked back to the truck. “We have a trail of breadcrumbs.” She opened the door. “Let’s follow them.”
It was forty-two miles to the designated bunker area, I remembered that. The mud trail didn’t last long, but it did lead us down the interstate again where the dried trail tapered off. Every mile east we went things looked more normal. We were in the safe haven area between the two mountain ranges, safe like Julius said. No sign of a major storm, no fallen trees.
No sign of our group.
The occasional sign of horse droppings was a great sign.
I wasn’t an expert on horses, but I did know Martin would have kept them at a trotting pace, stopping every couple hours. It would have taken the horses eight hours to get to the bunker. If that was where they were going.
Without a doubt in my mind, they had left not long after I spoke to them the day before.
Other than the markings of the horses, we saw cars. Not a lot, but some were driving on the highway.
It was strange because as cars passed us, they’d beep and wave.
Then we saw a police car. It cruised by us and we followed it off the exit ramp into a town called Lewisville. From the looks of the map, the actual town was another mile away.
If the police car was cruising the highway, maybe they saw our party.
The officer must have noticed us following, he extended his arm out the window in a wave to us, pulled over and put on his lights.
Keeping a short distance, Alice pulled over as well and we waited for the officer to get out of his car.
Both Alice and I waved to let him know we were friendly, and he walked up to our window.
“Afternoon officer,” Alice said. “I don’t have my license or registration.”
“I didn’t pull you over, so you’re good. But … you don’t look like a Herbie. What’s up? I saw you following me. Did you need help? I saw the Kansas plates, so you guys are for sure from the hit zone.”
I leaned toward the window. “I’m sorry the hit zone?”
“Everywhere but around here. We’re still trying to figure out what isn’t hit. It’s easier that way.”
“We’re looking for some people,” I said. “We got separated when the water tornado hit. They made it across the bridge, but we don’t know where they are. They were on horseback.”
“Ah,” he nodded. “Yes. Last night two men and two kids, one of them looked like a teenager, were trying to camp out in the parking lot of the Super 8.”
Alice asked. “Trying to? Did something happen?”
“Yeah, we gave them a room. No power anywhere, but it was better for the kids to have a bed. The rest of the party was headed east to White Sulphur Springs, they were resting the horses.”
“So, they left and they were fine?” I asked.
“Yep. Gina made them some breakfast and they left pretty early. They should be there by now.”
“Thank you,” I gushed. “Thank you so much.”
“Well, be careful,’ he said. “If you need to come back, we’re here.”
Alice had to tap my leg to get me to stop thanking the officer. I was just so grateful. Martin, the kids and the others were fine, and we were close to finding them.
Just as you exited the highway, on the very outskirts of White Sulphur Springs was a Wendy’s. I swore it was open. I could smell the burgers, see the smoke, but as we passed it, I saw they weren’t really open for business, they were just cooking off the meat.
I never got to see the actual small town, because the driveway to the resort was right down the road from the restaurant. I didn’t see anything, no cars as we drove up the long entrance way.
At the very top, I saw a horse cross the road.
I knew it was ours.
The horse stopped, turned and paced to the middle of the road and there I saw that the rider was Reese.
He didn’t know us or recognize the truck, he yanked on the reins, turned the horse and raced off away from us.
We drove cautiously, because if I knew Martin, Reese probably went to get him, and Martin would be there with a rifle.
Sure enough, he was.
Perched intimidatingly on that horse like an old west sheriff until he recognized us as we pulled close.
With a wave and a huge smile, he dismounted the horse and I got out of the truck.
Running to him, I watched his smile drop.
“Where’s Lane?” he asked concerned. “Please don’t tell me …”
“He’s ... he’s okay,” I stopped him. “He’s in a hospital in Beckley. He got a lung infection when he was swept up by that water.”
“Whew that is good to ...” his eyes shifted, and he smiled again. “Alice?” He chuckled heartedly and stepped to her and embraced her. “Well, I’ll be. You came back.”
“Yep. It was bad and I
