Allison's Secret Read online

  “This is Wilson’s place.”

  “That guy, Rick, said that he wasn’t here. He took off for that Kasbeer.”

  “Exactly. And I’ll bet he didn’t pack up all his guns when he left. He probably only took the one that he normally carries.” He studied the neighboring houses, then dismounted the bike and strolled across the trash strewn yard to the back door. He lifted his fist and knocked sharply on the door.

  After waiting fifteen seconds, he reached above the door and brought a key down from it’s hiding place above the frame.

  “What about the neighbors?” Will asked.

  “One, they don’t like him and are unlikely to care what happens over here. Two, if we don’t act like we are up to no good, they probably won’t bother to call the cops. Stay behind me.”

  He unlocked the door and stepped into a grubby kitchen that smelled of rotten meat and spoiled eggs. God! Wilson was a pig. What his sister had ever seen in the man was beyond Riley’s comprehension.

  Will followed him down the hall to a bedroom. Riley thought that the bedroom might smell worse than the kitchen. Stale sweat hung heavy in the air.

  Will retched before grabbing the neck of his t-shirt and pulling it up to cover his face below his eyes. “For the love of Pete! What a pig!”

  “Well, we all can’t be a Mr. Cleanliness like you.” Riley grinned. “Here, help me move this dresser.” He stepped up to a chest high dresser covered in a layer of dust and grime and started man handling it away from the wall. Behind the chest, drywall had been removed and at least a dozen rifles rested on the stocks with the barrels pointing towards the ceiling. Hand guns lay on a makeshift shelf of 2 by 4’s.

  “Watch out. I’m sure they are all loaded,” Riley warned. He selected a Sig Sauer 9mm and a Taurus which also used 9mm ammunition. “Leave the Glock. That uses 45’s and we’ll be better off keeping to guns that all use the same ammunition.”

  “But what if we find some 45’s and we don’t have a gun to use them?”

  Riley shrugged and moved out of the way so that Will could move in closer.

  When Will had selected two pistols plus the Glock, which he emptied of bullets before shoving into his back pocket, Riley pulled the bottom drawer of the dresser opened. He grabbed several boxes of 9mm ammunition before sliding the drawer closed and pushing the dresser back against the wall.

  “Wait!” Will reached behind the dresser and grabbed two rifles. “Is this a Barrett?” He ran his hand down the barrel of a dirty, black rifle. “Better safe than sorry. I wish we could take them all. Better in my hands than in the next guy’s.”

  “I’d leave that one and take another. You’ve shot one of them. The kick ain’t worth the power.”

  “Yeah. I hate it when you’re right. It’s a little big to be carrying on a bike anyway. I’ll take the two Sig MPX’s.” He ejected a shell from one of the sigs. “9mm. Goody for me.”

  “We can’t carry them all. Let’s go.”

  Closing the door behind them, Riley took a deep breath of fresh air. Glancing at the neighboring houses, he quickly made his way back to the motorcycles with Will close behind.

  Day 1 - Allison

  Allison handed the menu back to the waitress and turned to her sister, Abby, with a frown. “I don’t understand why you think it’s funny that I like to be prepared.”

  “No. That’s not what I meant,” Abby protested, holding her manicured hand up. “I was just teasing you. You come to the city every month. We get manicures, go to Applebee’s, and then stop at the gun store and you spend $100 on bullets. Every month.” She examined her nails. “I do like the manicure part though. And the guy at the gun store is kinda cute. I think he wants to ask me out. If he doesn’t ask me today, I might ask him.”

  Allison shook her head and sighed. She leaned back so the waitress could set her drink in front of her, thanked the waitress, then leaned forward placing her elbows on the table. “Do you remember when James and I first bought the farm and moved out there? It was only three miles from town, but that first winter we had two horrendous snow storms.”

  Abby nodded.

  “In both storms, we lost electricity for three days each time, and the snowplows didn’t get down our road for four days. We were stranded. Luckily we had the fireplace, but after the second snowstorm, we had used up every piece of wood we had on the woodpile. What would have been plenty for the Friday night fires we enjoyed, got used up keeping us warm for six days. And we ran out of milk. We almost ran out of water.”

  Allison took a long drink of her soda before continuing. “After the first storm, I made sure we had extra food in the house ‘just in case’. One whole cupboard was devoted to soup. I bought powdered milk and stored it. I also picked up some camping utensils to make cooking on the fireplace easier. You have no idea what a bitch it is to cook in a fireplace. I stored extra drinking water and rice and beans. We didn’t need them the rest of that winter, but it sure gave me peace of mind to be prepared. That doesn’t make me a prepper.”

  Abby held up one perfectly manicured finger and smiled. “What about the ammo. Doesn’t that kind of make you a prepper?”

  “No, it doesn’t. Being prepared does not make one a prepper. Now, enjoy your meal and leave me alone.” She moved her drink so the waitress could put her plate in front of her.

  The waitress grinned. “My uncle’s a prepper. He’s got all kinds of guns and survival gear. He’s even got an underground bunker.”

  Allison rolled her eyes. “Thanks for sharing. I’m not a prepper.” She stabbed her salad and shoved a forkful into her mouth. When the waitress walked away, she opened her mouth to show Abby a tongue full of food.

  Abby scrunched her face. “Eww! That’s just gross.”

  “Then stop picking on me.”

  The gun store wasn’t busy on weekdays. Allison left Abby to flirt with the cute guy behind the counter while she shopped for a night vision scope for the AR. She was spending a lot more on this trip than she usually did. The scope cost almost $500. It was still far cheaper than the night vision goggles she had purchased last year.

  The Smith & Wesson M&P Bodyguard the employee waiting on her wore on his hip was exactly like the gun Allison had at home. While she preferred carrying her Governor while in the woods, the Bodyguard was easier to carry while doing chores. It had saved her chickens at least twice when she had come around the corner of the barn to find a coyote stalking through the grass.

  “Will that be all?” he asked.

  “Uh, no. I think I need some Black Powder and caps. Let me go get them. And, I want to pick up some two-and-a-half inch .410 shells and a couple boxes of ACP 45’s for my Governor. Give me five boxes of each.”

  Abby waited until they were outside before singing, “Guess who has a date tonight?”

  Allison grinned. “He is good looking. Where are you going?”

  “To a movie.”

  “Well, good for you!” Allison set her packages on the floor of the backseat and got behind the wheel. “I want to get home early today so is it OK if we skip ice cream?”

  “Sure. It’ll give me time for a nap before getting ready for my date tonight.”

  A block from Abby’s, she turned to Allison. “Hey, sis, I’m sorry I was giving you a rough time about being a prepper. I know you’re not.”

  Allison waited until she pulled into the driveway. She put the car into park and turned to face her sister. “I absolutely hate when someone calls me that. I’m proud as hell that I’m prepared for anything that happens. But there’s no way that anyone can prepare for what all those preppers think will happen. It just gets on my nerves to be lumped together with those wackos.”

  “Well, if anything does happen, I know where to go.”

  “Seriously, Abby, if anything ever does happen… Don’t wait. I may only be an hour away from here, but who knows how long it would take you to get there if something happens. Leave right away before people have time to get crazy.”

 
“You know I will.” She leaned across the console and gave her sister a hug. “I love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Traffic was light on Interstate 280 that edged the west side of Davenport, Iowa, across the Mississippi River, and along the south side of Moline, Illinois.

  Allison had just passed the airport exit when a strange glow in the sky to her north caught her attention. The sky seemed to glow with different waves of color that shimmered before turning bright and fading out.

  She hadn’t had time to process the sight before the Jeep died. She steered to the right, but the steering wheel was tight and refused to turn the car. She tugged harder and was able to coast to the shoulder. Her foot pressed the brake pedal to the floor. She could almost feel the car slowing.

  “What the hell!” Allison looked in her rear-view mirror in time to see a red pickup directly behind her swerve off the road and bounce into the ditch.

  Coasting to a stop on the shoulder, she leaned her head against the headrest and closed her eyes. Her hands still clutched the steering wheel, white knuckles shaking. She opened her eyes. The dashboard was dead.

  She fumbled with the door latch, her hands shaking so badly she finally used both hands to open the door and step out into the August heat.

  Across the medium, two cars sat at angles, their bumpers locked. Two men postured next to the wreckage arguing. One fat. One tall and skinny. The skinny man poked his index finger at the fat man’s nose as he yelled.

  A semi lay on its side in the medium. The driver, a woman, was struggling to climb out of the window which now faced the sky.

  A sparkle in the sky caused Allison to face south - just in time to see a large plane gliding towards the airport. She watched as it disappeared behind a line of trees. The ground shook and the sound of a crash dropped Allison to her knees in the middle of the Interstate.

  The two men fighting over the accident had stopped to stare. One pointed towards Allison and they both moved in her direction.

  Allison scrambled to her feet. Grit dug into the palms of both hands. She climbed back into her car and slammed the door. Shaking fingers turned the key but nothing happened. She slammed her palms on the steering wheel. Shooting pain from road grit made her squeal. Tears ran down her face. She thought of James. Would he even know what happened to her? Maybe these guys meant no harm, but what if they did? She turned the key again. Nothing happened.

  The men were about thirty feet from her car when Allison finally remembered to put the gearshift into park. When she tried the key again, the car started. It sputtered and spit, but it stayed running. She dropped the gearshift into drive and pressed the gas pedal. The car jumped forward. Sputtering and spitting, the car lurched ahead passing the men who stared before rushing forward but too late to catch the car.

  The dashboard was dark. Speed, gas gauge, and temperature gauge were blank. The radio, usually tuned to Sirius Prime Country, was silent. Allison reached into her purse and felt for her phone. She yanked it out and pressed the button that would activate the phone. The display lit up and Allison felt her spirits rise.

  With the Jeep still chugging, Allison bouncing back and forward with each chug, she thumbed through her contacts and found her husband’ James’ contact. She thumbed “Dial,” hit the “Speaker” button, and waited. When the call didn’t connect, she let up on the gas and hit the button to send a text to James. Using her thumb, she typed, “Something happened. Maybe solar flare. Jeep is running crappy. Im on way home.”

  She passed a few cars sitting dead on the road. Most held at least one occupant. Often a person or several persons stood near the car looking at Allison as she chugged past. Twice someone stepped out in front of Allison as if to stop her. She gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead letting them jump out of the way before getting run over. A man threw a glass bottle (beer?) as she passed.

  Allison kept the gas pedal to the floor until the car died a half hour later. Again, she wrestled the steering wheel to ease the car to the side of the interstate. The mile marker ahead indicated that she had only traveled 8 miles in a half hour. She moved the gear shift to

  She stared straight ahead until a sound caused her to lift her eyes. In the rear-view mirror, a ratty old pickup was speeding up behind her. Smoke belched out behind as it sped past on her driver’s side. A woman of about 40 stared back at her and lifted her hand in a slow wave. Allison didn’t have the energy to wave in reply.

  She reached for the key and the car reluctantly started again. She shifted into Drive and resumed her journey. At this rate, she figured it would be after dark before she arrived home.

  If she arrived home.

  Coming around a curve just past the Atkinson exit, the interstate rose above the surrounding land so that Allison was looking down onto the farming community. A pillar of smoke rose from a picturesque farm and Allison realized with horror that the tail end of a small passenger plane was sticking out of the roof of the barn.

  She did something she hadn’t done since she was a little girl. She began to make deals with God. “Please, God, let me make it home. I promise I will do what I need to do to help others. Just let me get home.”

  Day 1 Continued – Allison

  The Jeep dashboard remained blank as Allison approached the exit to Princeton. The radio alternated between complete silence and hissing. It had taken five hours to drive what normally took an hour.

  Home was just three short miles north and even if the car didn’t make it, she could walk that in a half hour or so. But, she really wanted to turn south into town to check on James. She also wanted to swing into Walmart and see if maybe she could pick up a few things that she should have gotten a long time ago.

  The line of cars waiting to exit the Interstate stretched a quarter mile. She was stuck in the right-hand lane with her flashers on. The line crept forward. Finally, she saw a county sheriff’s car blocking the exit. As each vehicle pulled up, a deputy stuck his head by the window and pointed down the interstate. Allison saw a few times where the occupants seemed to argue, but the deputy simply stepped back and waved them on.

  When it was her turn, she rolled down her window. “I’m sorry, ma’am. This exit is closed. You’ll need to keep moving.”

  She felt tears burning her eyes. “What the hell is going on?”

  He had the grace to look embarrassed. “We have closed this exit, ma’am. Now you will have to move on.”

  “But I live here.”

  He stepped back. “Oh, sorry! Your name?”

  She gave it to him and watched as he walked in front of her car and wrote the license plate number. While she waited for him to return, her fingers danced on the steering wheel. In the rear-view mirror, she saw a white pickup ease onto the right shoulder and creep to the exit. It moved next to her car and she turned her head to stare at the driver. It was a man. Probably late twenties or early thirties. His face was set. Jaw clenched. Eyes staring straight ahead.

  The deputy stepped in front of the truck and raised his handgun. “Stop!”

  The truck lunged forward causing the deputy to jump in front of Allison’s car once again. She heard three shots, practically on top of each other and looked ahead at the top of the exit ramp. Three more deputies stood in shooting position. Their guns pointed at the truck which had rolled to a stop next to Allison’s Jeep.

  She had a clear view of the man’s face. His forehead was marred by a gunshot wound, his head tilted back and to the side so that his dead eyes stared right at Allison.

  Allison felt the air leave her lungs as she stared in horror. She couldn’t bite back the scream that erupted. Fingernails dug into her palms as she tried to make sense of what she saw. She took a huge breath and let it out.

  The three deputies from the top of the ramp came hurrying down to check on the dead driver and move his truck to the side of the ramp. It wasn’t until Allison heard her name that she realized the deputy she had first talked to was standing next to her window.
/>   “Why?” she whispered. “Why did you kill him? What is going on?”

  “I’m sorry you had to see that, ma’am. We can’t take chances. If he was willing to run me over to get up this ramp, think about what he would have been willing to do to someone who couldn’t defend themselves. Since you live here, I can let you through, ma’am. Please go straight home and stay there. Nothing is open anyway. We hope to have some information later tonight or tomorrow and we will be sending people around to relay the information.”

  “I live north of the Interstate.”

  “Oh. I’m not sure how they plan on getting the information to the surrounding farms, but we are on top of this.”

  “So, can you tell me what happened?”

  “No ma’am. I don’t really know. My guess would be an EMP attack, but I’m not supposed to say that.” He turned red realizing that he’d just said exactly what he’d been ordered not to say.

  “Just before all the cars died on the Interstate, I saw flashes of colored light to the north. It looked a little like lightning. Then everything just died. My first thought was a solar flare.”

  The deputy nodded. “We’ve heard that same thing from several people so there might be some truth to that. I’d much rather think it was a huge solar flare than an EMP attack, but either way from what little we hear, the electric grid is down all over. And it’s brought out the crazies.”

  Allison looked at the white pickup in the ditch next to her car. Her stomach rolled. “Thank you,” she whispered, turning back to the deputy. “I’ll go straight home.”

  “Be careful, ma’am. We’ve heard there’s been trouble in other communities. That’s why we are closing access now.”

  “It’s only been a few hours! What kind of trouble can happen that fast?”

  He shrugged. “Just after it happened, a gang overran the Target store in Peru. Probably some of those prepper groups. You know how they like to get wound up.”