Hidden Flames (13 page)

“It’s not heavy enough.” Owen turned on his own flashlight and aimed it toward the sky. It was easy to see which direction the ash was coming from. The area was pitch black and gaining ground. “These flakes are being carried toward us by the winds in the upper atmosphere.”

“Can you imagine what this is going to be like to travel in? On bikes?” Prue didn’t seem to take his word for it that she would be all right without her shirt over her face. She held the light between her legs as she managed to get a hold of her gasmask. It took her a minute, but she finally managed to get the straps adjusted and seat the mask properly on her face. Her voice became even more muffled, almost digitized through the speaker diaphragm. “At least we’ll still be able to wear our helmets.”

Owen figured at least she was talking to him, so this was better than nothing. He took his time securing his bag to his bike and then taking their backup gas container and filling up her tank first, then his from the farm supply. He did find a half a case of octane boost in the tool shed, which he split between their saddlebags after using three cans for the gas they just topped off with along with the reserve. He fastened the reserve can back into place behind her bags on her bike and then went to work on donning his own gasmask. Once it was in place, he reached for his helmet.

“This is going to make us serious targets. I’m half considering that we should sling our M4s across our backs.” Owen looked over to see that Prue already had her hands on the handlebars. She was ready to book it out of here and he didn’t blame her. The ash was a calling card, letting them know that this wasn’t some type of drill or vacation adventure. This was real and their reality had just changed to that of survival of the fittest. Instead of getting on his bike, he walked around so that he stood directly in front of her. What he was about to tell her had nothing to do with them personally. It had everything to do with life or death. “Let me be clear. If you have a need to pull your weapon, take up the slack in the trigger and use it. Do not hesitate. They won’t. The moment you delay in pulling that trigger is when you’ll be the one to die.”

“I realize that these masks alone will catch the attention of everyone we cross paths with,” Prue said, meeting his gaze. He sighed with relief and could see that she was truly with him for the rest of this journey. “I’ll do what I have to in order to protect what we have.”

“The ash arrived earlier than expected, so that’s going to change the panic we’ve seen in the people into desperation. Stay close and follow my lead.” Owen waited until Prue nodded before returning to his bike. He’d always been one to follow his gut on things and damn if he wasn’t sensing a warning of danger ahead of them. He swung his leg over his seat and adjusted the strap on his helmet. He scanned the area and didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. “Let’s ride.”

Owen slowly pulled out, giving both of them time to adjust to the feeling of ash underneath their tires. He kept the speed below forty to lessen the impact of the falling ash and allow for the less positive traction. It was almost as bad as traveling on a gravel road. The harsh elements would be hell on their tires, but at least Prue had been wise enough to suggest they switch them out for the Kevlar Enduro tires trail riders used. She had insisted on them from the very start. He had wondered if the added discomfort in the vibration of the bikes would be worth it, but now he needed to be sure and thank her when he got the chance. Their speed would be lowered from here on out, due to visibility and traction, but at least they were able to still make some decent headway while the ash was coming down relatively lightly. He turned them on the main road and maintained their new travel speed.

They were two hours into the trip before Owen signaled they should stop. He wanted to check on the filters to see how they were holding up under the current conditions. The ash fall had gotten somewhat heavier and he could tell from the dark sky they had no more than an hour before a substantial concentration hit them head-on. They had passed quite a few vehicles that had pulled off on the side of the road and those people that continued to drive toward their destination. He doubted there was a road in the United States that wasn’t packed full of vehicles.

“We should think about taking Highway 20 down to 10,” Prue said, shutting off her engine and then immediately taking her flashlight and handing it to him so that she could check the air filter on her bike. She disconnected the primary intake and knocked the collected ash out of it and took the light back from Owen to peer into the oil bath. She reconnected the intake and loosened the inline valve on the drain tube where she had replaced the plug to allow for easy replacement of the oil in the bath. Allowing just a quick thin line of oil to escape the bath, she tested the viscosity and particulate concentration by feel, rubbing the oil between her bare fingers. She wiped the oil off of her hands with a rag that magically appeared from her back pocket. “The ash is just getting heavier and traveling south might make it easier on us for a little while longer.”

“Nothing is going to make this easier.” Owen thought about using the HF radio to see if he could contact Mav up at the fishing lodge, but it was doubtful he’d have someone monitoring it at this time of night. Besides, it would take too long to set things up and they really didn’t have time to waste. Prue finished wiping down her filter and then moved toward his bike, motioning with her hand that she wanted him off of it. Her brown eyes were trained on him through the plastic eyelets of her gasmask and he wondered what she was thinking. He lifted himself off of the seat, causing the beam of the light to shine on the ground where he’d planted his boots. It was at that moment that he caught sight of the tire tracks beneath him. They were made from another motorcycle with highway tires. Owen hadn’t heard the sound of an additional engine, but that didn’t mean a thing. “Someone stopped here fairly recently. Hold up a second.”

Owen directed the beam of the flashlight to the ground, kneeling to get a better look. The person responsible would have literally had to be in this exact spot not twenty minutes before they pulled into the station…what was left of it anyway. He focused the light on the convenience store and could easily see the broken windows and the empty shelves. Not seeing anything of concern, he fixated on the tread in front of him.

Out of the five friends, Owen was the one who could track. He hadn’t even realized he’d had such an innate ability until he’d entered the Marines. It had come in handy quite a few times and had saved all of their collective asses on more than just a few occasions. The desert was different than U.S. soil, but the ash was an exception. It was falling at a predictable rate and it kept an impression reasonably well with shaped edges disturbed only by time and moisture. He studied the tread and then raised the light to scan outward. He slowly stood, not liking what he’d discovered, and then regarded the area around them.

“Owen? What are you doing?”

“Retighten the filter and then we’ll talk on the way,” Owen advised curtly, not liking that they were out in the open like this. Four motorcycles had been here very recently and he didn’t believe in coincidence. This was the second time since he’d first seen the small group of bikers that he felt uneasy. They had definitely been following them earlier with every intention of taking the weapons on the back of his bike. Owen didn’t doubt that for a moment. This, though? How could they know where they would be now? He and Prue had backtracked on their route and they should have been far away from Deacon’s crew. “Quickly, Prue.”

“At least tell me while I’m doing it so I’m not thinking that Jason from those horror movies is coming up behind me with a damned chainsaw,” Prue mumbled as she looked over her shoulder to where the abandoned gas station now stood in shambles. She’d taken off her helmet, having laid it on the seat. “Have you seen those flicks? This place could literally be one of the locations they shot the damn film from.”

Owen motioned with the light that she needed to work quicker, which prompted her brows to furrow underneath her mask. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up. Had Deacon and his crew been pulling out of here when they’d heard his and Prue’s engines coming up the road? Were they waiting to ambush them somewhere up ahead? Owen didn’t remember seeing them carrying any supplies with them, so they were probably using some type of cloth to cover their faces. Riding in this ash would be hell without any protection.

It wasn’t long before Prue signaled that she was finished. She scanned the area as well, tilting her head toward him in question. Owen stepped closer and pulled her into his arms, making it appear to anyone watching that he was just giving her a hug. The gasmasks made it awkward, but he still managed to say what he needed without anyone who might be lurking around to hear.

“Those bikers? They’re not far from here. Maybe a few minutes’ head start. I don’t know for sure it’s them, but four bikes were sitting right here not long ago. Chances are their bikes won’t get them far, depending on their air filters and the condition of their tires. The tire tracks appear to have pulled out the way they were headed, so we’re taking another route. I need you to stay close to me.”

Owen was honestly surprised that Prue had allowed him to pull her that close to him without her putting up some sort of argument, which only meant that she felt the ominous impression around them as well. He slowly released her and wished he could have kissed away the worry he saw in her eyes behind that plastic lens.

“We should—”

The brash reverberations of several motorcycles filled the air, cutting off Owen’s suggestion on the direction they needed to take. It was too late and there wasn’t a thing he could do to avoid the coming confrontation. The bikes came from various directions and currently blocked them in, causing Prue to turn so that her back was to his. She was a natural born fighter and he was glad that she had his six.

“Remember what I said?” Owen asked, needing to know that she would use her weapon if necessary. “If things go south…”

“Don’t hesitate to pull the trigger.”

P
rue had never
been put in this type of situation before. She wasn’t a cop, she hadn’t been in the military, and she sure as hell knew for sure she wasn’t in a position now to be surrounded by criminal predators. She was probably judging a little early, considering these men might want nothing more than to demand some fuel…but her instinct was screaming that they were about to have a major skirmish that wouldn’t end well. And despite what had taken place between her and Owen earlier, she was glad he was the one standing behind her.

“No reason to go for those weapons,” Deacon called out from underneath the torn cloth tied around his head. It wasn’t a bandana, but instead it appeared to be a strip of heavy woven cloth. The ash was falling heavier now, but it was the darkness that made it hard to see them. The gasmasks didn’t help either, but she could bet six of one against a half dozen of another that this wasn’t going to hinge solely on who had the best vision. She held her breath as the other three men slowly followed Deacon’s lead by getting off of their bikes, intensifying the strained situation even more. It was going to be hell trying to keep track of four men positioned in opposite directions. “We just want to talk.”

“The best thing you could do at this moment is to get back on your bikes and drive away,” Owen replied in a rather intimidating tone. Prue considered herself an intelligent woman and even she realized that he wasn’t a man to mess with. Would Deacon? Considering this crew was foolish enough to ride without helmets and too stupid to gather their own supplies technically answered that question. “I usually don’t give warnings so consider this your lucky day.”

“Well, see, there’s the issue of you having some things we need.” It was hard to tell if Deacon was smiling underneath the stained material. A good greasy inch of his hair had come out of his ponytail and hung straight down his cheek. The man was to their left, which wasn’t blocked by their bikes. That left the other three men total access to her and Owen’s supplies while Deacon distracted them. She placed her hand on her weapon, praying she wouldn’t need to use it. “No one needs to get hurt. We couldn’t help but notice that you weren’t headed for the border. Do you know something that we don’t?”

“Nothing we’re willing to share with you.”

Well, that was to the point. Prue was slightly nauseous when the other three men took a step toward her and Owen’s bikes. It would be way too easy for them to unfasten the straps and have access to the weapons. Owen better have a damn good plan, because things weren’t looking good from where she was standing. The gasmask made it harder for her to keep an eye on everyone, so she concentrated on the other men and left Deacon for Owen.

“Now that’s not very neighborly right there,” Deacon said, staying where he was while he had his friends do his dirty work. She prided herself on remaining calm. “And if I were to ask you to share some of those supplies you have? I mean, that’s the decent thing to do. Being selfish in this type of situation would just make you look really bad in front of your little woman there.”