Winds of Ares: An Apocalypse Thriller Druga, Jacqueline (top 5 ebook reader .TXT) 📖

already dark clouds. I couldn’t be sure if it was the hailstorm or maybe lightning that started the massive fires there. But it lit up the area adding an eerie orange light to the smoke hovering over the highway. There was no true daylight. The farther we drove it went from looking like we were stuck in some wildfire escape route to a dreary winter evening.

First hail, now heavy raindrops that looked as if they were snowflakes, big and slushy, melting immediately as soon as they landed.

At the point when we passed Bowling Green, we had fourteen hours remaining on the clock. Not that Ares, if it was to happen, was following a strict schedule, but it was something to go by.

Looking at the sky, the way the rain fell and wind blew, I wondered if we even had fourteen hours left.

I swore I saw yet another launch. Another explosion in the sky of bright lights, tons of them. Did they launch another storm counterattack?

I showed Lane, he didn’t know. He wasn’t convinced what we had seen earlier in the day was a Jupiter launching.

Maybe if it was a second launch, maybe … it would work.

We couldn’t take a chance.

It was a group decision to push it.

To go as long as we could for as far as we could. We needed to make our way back to Interstate Sixty-four to meet the rescue teams that waited. That was if Julius was honest about having teams waiting for as long as possible.

I still held on to that twinge of doubt since he denied my accidental call.

The plan was to travel as much as possible to the point where we could rest. The final leg of the journey would be short and in one vehicle, just cross over the New River Gorge and enter the valley of safety.

We were able to get a little more gas seventy miles outside of Bowling Green, and that was the last place we went through that had power.

The grid was down everywhere.

We forged forward through the darkness. Slowing down at some points to a crawl. But it reached a point where we couldn’t go any farther. Everyone was tired and hungry and while I wasn’t a weather expert, I was certain we were on the outskirts of a massive hurricane that had made landfall.

The one Reverend Barrows had told us about.

The wind was too much, pushing the RV and making it hard to steer.

We took refuge in an equipment rental warehouse. A large vertical steel plank building. Inside there were steel support beams and a concrete slab floor.

Martin said it was probably prefabricated, but it was sturdy. If his barn withstood a twister, so could the warehouse.

I started to think the horses suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder. They acted disoriented and moved around a lot when the wind hit hard.

The metal siding whapped and rattled with each gust.

We were close.

There was seven hours to Ares. That was if it didn’t occur earlier.

We had maybe an hour’s drive. Another hour in case we got lost. If I factored in a half an hour to pack up, that would give us five good hours to rest. We needed it and we needed the morning light as well. It was too anxiety inducing driving in the pitch black with the weather as bad as it was.

The concrete floor was cold, and we did the best to block the chill for the kids.

Carlie lay on a sleeping bag, Reese on a blanket with his head on my lap.

He was passed out. I didn’t know how he slept like that, with all the noise. The blasting thunder, the sides of the warehouse shaking and the horses crying out every so often.

Yet, he wasn’t the only one asleep. Maybe the racket served as some sort of white noise.

“We’ll be here another couple hours.” I poured some Ten High bourbon in the glass for Lane. “Have some, relax, try to sleep. You’re a big guy, one shot isn’t going to faze you.”

“I’m not that big.” He took it.

I noticed Lane’s eyes glancing up and I looked behind me. Martin was standing there.

“Is that …” Martin pointed to the bottle. “Ten High?”

“It is,” I replied. “Do you want some?”

“Good heavens, why aren’t you drinking the Old Rip Van?”

“It’s really bad.”

“No, it’s not. You guys are just so used to cheap booze.”

Lane asked as he stood. “I’ll go grab it for you.”

“Thank you,” Martin replied.

“It’s yours anyhow.”

Stop.

Lane realized what he said, and he froze in the middle of opening the RV door.

I cringed, looked at Martin then Lane. My husband lifted his shoulders some, cringing as well, then went into the RV.

“That bottle is the one from my house?” Martin asked.

“It was not broken,” I said.

“And you opened it?” His voice raised some.

“In our defense, we thought you were dead.”

“Jana, do you even realize how much that was worth?”

“Yeah, but it’s the apocalypse,” I defended. “It’s not worth anything.”

“Wrong,” Martin said. “If this really is the end of the world, that can be worth plenty in a barter.”

“Martin, please,” I snickered. “The type of people that will be bartering will exchange the same amount for that as they will Ten High.”

“Unbelievable.” He watched Lane walked out of the RV and hand him the bottle. “Thank God, there is three quarters left.”

“Is that why you came over?” I asked. “To bitch about us taking your bottle.”

“No, what the heck, Jana. I just found out this was mine. I came over to talk to you. Can you talk?”

It was an ‘uh-oh’ moment. I really thought I had done something wrong. “Sure,” I said.

“Out of ear shot of the kids.”

“Um, yeah.” I gently lifted Reese’s head from my lap. Lane handed me a gym bag to serve as a pillow for him. I exchanged my leg for the bag and stood.

“This way,” Martin said.

I grabbed my bottle of Ten High and followed.

“Never knew you to be a big drinker.” Martin pointed to the bottle.

“I’m not, it’s extenuating circumstances.