Martial Law (8 page)

“Looks like the fire and rescue are closed up for the night,” said Drew, pointing across the street at what was probably an all-volunteer department that only occasionally had to rescue cats from the moss-covered live oak trees dotting the landscape. “Let’s stretch and get some water, okay, Abbie?”

“Okay,” a meek Abbie replied. She was exhausted and distraught over the possible fate of Rhona and the innocent people they took on board. Since they turned back, she began to question the decision to help the young mother and her daughter, Ruthie.
Would they have been better off on their own instead of becoming embroiled in a gunfight?

“Drew, did we do the right thing?”

“Abbie, I had to get you out of there. The team knows the drill. They’re fine.”

“No, I mean taking on the woman and her little girl. Did I unnecessarily put them in harm’s way?”

Drew took a breath and moved forward to comfort Abbie. He was confident in the decisions they’d made so far. “Listen. Those two could have suffered a much worst fate,
unprotected
. I don’t care how many hostiles the boys faced back there on that interstate. They would not let any harm come to Rhona or our guest passengers. Your compassion saved them from a certain fate, Abbie. Know that.”

She looked up at him. She wanted him to hold her. Make it all go away. Just as he got close—he nervously backed away. There was still that wall of professional boundaries.

Drew popped open the back hatch of the Suburban and retrieved a couple of bottled waters from the cooler. He handed Abbie a towel that she used to wipe her face. She looked at her reflection in the truck’s rear window. She was a hot mess, but she was alive.

“How much farther?” she asked.

“I wish we had a map. The GPS wants to take you on its preferred route. People rely upon these things too much. It’s no wonder drivers aimlessly follow its directions off a cliff.”

Abbie laughed.

She studied Drew. He was handsome but not in a movie-star kind of way. He was obviously well built and had a boyish charm about him. She appreciated his dry sense of humor. Most of all, he was very attentive towards her. He would perform small, unnecessary gestures of kindness that gave her the feeling he cared about her.
Did it take this crazy situation to allow her to see the obvious?

“Let’s get goin’, Abbie,” said Drew as he escorted her to the passenger side of the truck. She stopped at the rear door out of habit.

“Here you go,” he said, opening the front door. “You’re riding shotgun now.”

“Oh, I got a promotion. Do I get a gun too?”

“Nope. The rules are simple. Eyes on the periphery. No excessive chatter. Keep your hands to yourself. Wear your seat belt at all times. Fair enough?”

“I’ll take the job,” she replied. As she climbed into the truck, she caught a glimpse of Drew looking at her—checking her out.
Now that we’re alone, we’ll see where this crazy ride leads us
.

Chapter 15

September 4, 2016

2:35 a.m.

SR 242

South of Lake City, Florida

Drew charted a route to the south and east of Lake City, avoiding every potential obstacle, town or major road crossing. What would usually take less than an hour on a sunny afternoon took double that in the throes of Hurricane Danni. Despite the torrential downpours, the ride was uneventful, but Drew was closely monitoring another very real problem—they were low on fuel. The delays, the side roads, and the fact they were only supposed to drive a few miles to the campaign event led to the probability of an empty fuel tank soon.

His thoughts alternated between the task at hand and his family back home in Tennessee. Drew
grew up in a rural part of Tennessee known as the Upper Cumberland Plateau. His father, affectionately known as
Judge
by all who knew him, including Drew’s mom, practiced law for many years in nearby Jamestown before he was later appointed to be a circuit judge. In Tennessee’s rural counties, one circuit judge would preside over civil cases in several counties, so his father would travel a hundred miles a day to conduct the court’s business.

His mom was a retired registered nurse from the local hospital in Jamestown. For thirty-five years, Janie Jackson worked in all aspects of the regional medical center, including eleven years as a surgery nurse. But her favorite position came at the end of her career when the hospital placed her in charge of the emergency room—
my ER
, as she called it. Nobody, including the physicians, challenged this designation.

Drew’s brother and sister were freshmen at the University of Tennessee. Fraternal twins, the two were inseparable and best friends. Jasper, his eighteen-year-old brother, went to Tennessee on a football scholarship as a fullback. Six feet tall and made of solid muscle, he was a little undersized to play linebacker on defense and too small to play the offensive line. But Jack, as he preferred to be called, could open a hole and knock down anyone who stood in his way.

His sister, Alexandra, was the consummate farmer’s daughter. She was a beautiful young woman—but more tomboy than a debutante. In Muddy Pond, where the family farm was located, hunting was the recreation of choice. Allie participated in every marksmanship course taught in the Fentress County school system. While the family supported Jack in his football endeavors, they also were proud of Allie for her shooting trophies.

“Hey, Drew. What are you thinking?”

“Sorry, my mind wandered. Did you say something?”

“Ignoring me already, I see.”

“No, Abbie, I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“Nothing. I’m just messing with you. Relax, Drew. It’ll be all right.” She reached over and rubbed his shoulders, instantly relaxing him. “You’ve done great so far. We’re going to be fine.”

“Thanks. I mean, I know. I was just thinking about my family.” Drew relaxed his grip on the wheel as the rain died down for the first time in an hour or so. Plus, Abbie’s touch had a calming effect on him—even though she was violating the
keep your hands to yourself
rule.

“Are you worried about them?” asked Abbie.

“No, not really. My parents are prepared for things like this. Hell, Pop will live longer in the world with no power than he would have in an electricity-dependent life. I was thinking more about my younger brother and sister. Today was Jack’s first home football game at Neyland Stadium in Knoxville.”

“Wow. You never mentioned that before.”

“My younger brother and sister are freshmen at Tennessee. They’re twins. Jack made the team as a true freshman and probably saw some playing time against Appalachian State. He had a good first game against Virginia Tech last week. My sister, Allie, is his biggest fan. I’m sure she was at the game.”

“Allie. Great name. We’d be friends. You know. Abbie. Allie. Get it?” The two laughed.

“Ha-ha. Maybe. Allie isn’t a foo foo.”

“What? Are you saying I’m a foo foo, mister? I have a gun. It’s here somewhere. I’m sure of it!” Abbie teasingly started to take off her seat belt to search for the elusive gun just to aggravate Drew.

“Do not break any more rules or you will be relieved of your shotgun duties.”

Drew knew Abbie was purposefully acting silly to loosen him up. Abbie was showing a side of her that he didn’t get to enjoy often. In fact, this was the longest period the two had spent alone.
He liked it
. They both sat in silence for a moment. Drew could feel the tension between them.

“It’s our anniversary, you know,” said Abbie.

“Anniversary of what?”

“Our one-hundred-day anniversary. You started protecting me a hundred days ago.”

“Really? Gawd,” said Drew in his natural Southern drawl. “I thought it had been years. I was just thinking to myself—
is this detail ever going to end?
”

“Shut up, asshole! That’s it. I’m finding that gun!”

“Abbie, stop. You are the worst protectee of all protectees.”

“
Protectee
is not a word.”

“Umm, yes, it is.”

“Nope.”

“You’re breaking the rules of the shotgunner.”

“What? No, I am not!”

“Yes, you are. Excessive talking.”

Abbie petulantly sat back in her seat. Drew was enjoying this.

“
Shotgunner
is not a word either,” said Abbie, folding her arms with a pout.

She may be right about that one
.

Chapter 16

September 4, 2016

3:57 a.m.

County Road 241

Near Lulu, Florida

For miles, Drew looked for options. He hoped to see a gas can sitting in a carport or next to a tool shed. He watched for any other travelers or residents to lend a hand. But the drive along their circuitous route was mostly deserted. He had to tell Abbie.

“Abbie, we’re only about forty miles from Camp Blanding, but I’m afraid we don’t have enough fuel. I’ve routed us towards a small town on State Highway 100 called Lulu. I don’t know if there’ll be any help for us, but we have to try.”

“When will we run out, Drew?”

“Very soon. I don’t think we can make it to town, so we’ll have to walk and ask for help.”

“And if there isn’t anyone to help us?”

“Then we walk straight down Highway 100 toward Lake Butler and hope for an alternative.”

“That would suck.”

“I couldn’t have said it better.” Drew chuckled.

Drew continued several more miles until he hit the intersection of County Road 241, where he turned left towards Lulu. Just as they passed the Speed Limit 45
sign, the truck sputtered and lost power.
End of the road
.

Abbie spoke up first. “Well, okay then. Let the adventure continue.” Drew could tell Abbie was pretending to be in good spirits. This was not a good situation for them.

“Let me take a quick inventory of what would be most useful to carry with us,” said Drew as the two exited the stalled vehicle.

His first concern was shelter in the event they had to walk the entire route. They were both in good condition, but in the midst of a hurricane and without alternate transportation, the trip would take at least eight hours. Drew was comfortable they could find respite from the storm, even if it was in a barn or an outbuilding.

Security was the next order of business. Drew carried his assigned weapon—the Sig Sauer P229. His personal weapon was a Glock 31, standard issue to his many friends in the Tennessee Highway Patrol. It used a common cartridge, the Sig .357. But he also kept in his bag a Glock 33 chambered in the same cartridge. The Glock 33 was a subcompact version. Its magazine held nine rounds. He strapped it in an ankle holster and covered it with his pant leg.

“Abbie, we’ve talked about this before. Ordinarily, there would be no circumstance that would require you to be armed. This is an exception to that rule.”

“You know I’m trained on the P229. My father insisted upon it.”

“I remember. I have a backup Sig for you. I have two paddle holsters, but they won’t tuck into the waistband of your Juicy Couture tracksuit.”

Abbie stood a little taller and somewhat indignant. “You’ll have to give me a gun, Drew.”

“Yes. I have a shoulder holster that I’ll adjust to fit you.” Drew reached into his bag and adjusted the straps on his shoulder rig. He turned toward her to get her outfitted. “I need you to stand tall and hold your arms out.”

Drew slipped her right arm through one side of the straps and then her left. He reached around her to adjust the padding under her arms, accidentally grazing her breasts. Abbie shivered. With both hands, Drew carefully pulled Abbie’s hair free from the shoulder straps, revealing her neck. She turned her head to expose her skin covered with goosebumps. Drew felt the attraction, and he knew Abbie wanted him to kiss her.

But he restrained himself. He pulled her arms down to her sides, and he leaned into her ear. “Abbie, I feel it too. Let’s get out of this mess and we’ll see where it takes us. Okay?”

Abbie exhaled and nodded. Then she turned toward him and touched his face. “I can’t help how I feel, Drew. I’m falling in love with you. I have been for months.”

“I know. Love you too. I—” Then an explosion ripped through the night. They both instantly turned towards Lulu. A streak of lightning momentarily lit up the sky to reveal black smoke drifting skyward.

Drew grabbed a few more things and stuffed them in his cargo pant pockets before he closed the Suburban and habitually locked it, tucking the keys away.

“Let’s go.”

Chapter 17

September 4, 2016

4:20 a.m.

County Road 241

Near Lulu, Florida

As Drew and Abbie jogged toward town, the frequent lightning strikes provided a view of the smoke that grew in volume and density. They had jogged almost two miles when they rounded the curve and saw fire dancing into the sky. The Lulu Baptist Church was engulfed in flames. Because of the intense heat and Drew’s concern over what caused the fire, he led Abbie across the street under the oak tree canopy provided in the home’s front yard.

“What should we do?” asked Abbie. The two crouched under a mature live oak, which shielded them from the rain coming from another feeder band.
Did this hurricane find a place to stop for the night?

“I’m not sure, but something is out of place. I realize it’s oh-dark-thirty, but that explosion could be heard for miles. Where is everybody? Why aren’t the neighbors gathering around to see what’s happened?”

“You’re right, Drew. Somebody would come around, right?”

“Yeah.” Drew looked around and grabbed Abbie by the hand. They ran across a gravel side road to another set of oaks and looked around. Suddenly, Abbie gasped.

“My god, Drew, look!” she exclaimed, pointing at a covered front porch in the midst of the trees. “Is that, is that a body?”