Berke went on to add a few more details and Owen listened to every word that was said, feeling somewhat numb at the end of it all. The air in his office had become rather stale, reminding him of what it was like to be inside of a tank under enemy fire. It was as if he weren’t really here, taking in the fact that life as he—or anyone—knew it was about to come to an agonizing end. It always amazed him that the one common thread that humans and animals had were their instinct to live…by any means necessary. Humanity was all but forgotten during times of desperation.
“Owen, I don’t have to tell you to watch your back. I’ll be heading out of here within the hour.” Silence reigned over the phone line, a connection that they may likely not have by tomorrow. Technology would almost cease to exit. It was a grappling thought. “I’ve already notified Mason and told him to get the hell out of Nebraska. Van is next on my list, but you have the farthest miles to travel. Don’t wait. Get out of there now.”
“I’ll see you soon,” Owen promised solemnly, slowly bringing the phone down to his side, not bothering to disconnect the call. Berke would do that when he went to contact Van. The team would do what was necessary to make it to Washington, but the perils they would face would present massive risks to their safety. “We’ve been through worse.”
His last words were basically to himself and echoed around the small grubby office that he’d come to love. His entire life was in this garage and he now had to leave it all behind. He’d worn cammies today and he wondered if subconsciously he hadn’t known something was coming. It was rare he wasn’t in a pair of greasy jeans and a smudged T-shirt.
Muffled clanking sounds came from the garage, catching Owen’s attention and he wondered how he was going to get Prue to believe him. He wasn’t leaving here without her and he didn’t relish the argument that was about to ensue. It was almost as if she didn’t know how to communicate any other way. It wasn’t as if they had all the time in the world, so he forced himself to walk to the door and swing it open, immediately hearing her favorite string of curse words mixed between everyday verses.
“Son of a bitch,” Prue muttered from across the garage, talking to herself as well as the heap of metal she was working on. “Who the hell puts these type of crap aftermarket bullshit tires on a 45 flathead? Asshole doesn’t know his head from his dick. There should be a law against yuppie douchebags owning classic bikes.”
Prue wasn’t the average woman Owen had run across in his lifetime and he couldn’t be more grateful. He started walking her way, taking in the worn cap that kept her hair from getting in the way of her work. The military styled utility cover might have kept her long black hair hidden, but he could see her dark brows furrowed over her brown eyes from where he was. He’d often said that she was going to get permanent wrinkles early if she didn’t smile once in a while and that only earned him a glare that made him wonder if she wanted him dead. Their kiss last night suggested otherwise, but he didn’t think now was a good time to bring that up.
Owen didn’t have the time to waste, but he stood a couple feet away from Prue, wanting to capture this image. Was this really it? How many times had he taken this view for granted? Prue had worked many early mornings and late nights on the machines that he credited for saving his sanity after getting out of the Corps. There was something about the woman that kept his mind occupied with ways to figure her out and what made her tick. Other less intelligent people might have referred to her as a tomboy, but Prue was anything but. She was feminine while strong, soft yet hard, vulnerable underneath those barriers, and stunningly beautiful in a very natural way. She was full of contradictions that made his days interesting and his nights filled with
what ifs
.
“Prue, I need to talk to you,” Owen said, catching sight of her hand stilling as she reached for a tire lever spoon. He winced when he realized that she’d misunderstood and thought that he was referring to the intimate exchange between them yesterday when they’d shared a beer. She wasn’t a wine kind of gal and she’d gone out of her way since to avoid talking about what had happened. “A friend of mine just called and gave me some bad news.”
Again, Owen grimaced when he managed to miscommunicate. His day just wasn’t going the way he’d envisioned. Prue snatched a cloth and wiped the grease from her hands as she turned to face him, her dark eyes filled with a hint of sympathy. It was hard to tell considering she kept her cards pretty close to her chest, but he would take what he could get. She was definitely rough around the edges and he seriously contemplated if knocking her unconscious to transport her to Washington wouldn’t be better than the conversation they were likely to have. Maybe that was overboard.
“Who died, Owen? It wasn’t one of your Marine buddies, was it?” Prue asked, not holding back like some people would. She tossed the small towel back onto the top of her favorite Weaver tire stand, reminding him that she wouldn’t willingly leave this place. Her next offer only solidified that thought. “I’ll take over the shop while you’re gone. I’ve got plenty of work stacked up to keep me busy.”
“Well, about that,” Owen said, rubbing the back of his neck as he wondered how he was going to explain this end-of-the-world scenario. It was a damn good thing he trusted his friends the way he did, but he was afraid Prue would need a hell of a lot more convincing than just a statement of fact. “No one’s died quite yet, but
we
could if we don’t leave within the next hour or so.”
Prue didn’t reply immediately, which didn’t surprise him. Owen studied her as she skeptically lifted her right eyebrow in question. He really hated when she did that. To add insult to injury, she sighed in a somewhat tolerant manner and his fingers started to itch with the need to grab the wrench behind her. A little tap on the head would render her unconscious, but she’d be fine.
“Prue, you’ve worked here a little over a year and in that time we’ve gotten to know each other pretty well.” That was a slight exaggeration, but Owen could spin anything into gold. At least, that’s what the guys used to say back in the day. “You know that I would give my life for my friends and vice versa. They’re my family. They are all I really have, besides what we’ve built here. If one of us says to jump, the others ask how high because it’s likely we’ll be saving each other’s asses in the long run.”
Owen, Berke, Van, Mason, and Maverick had bonded quickly when they’d entered boot camp, mostly due to the fact that they either didn’t have family or they weren’t close to those relatives that
were
still alive. None of them had the best upbringing, with the exception of Van…but his childhood hadn’t been a bed of roses either. They’d each handled their circumstances differently and Owen was the one to do his best to keep the situation as upbeat as possible…although that was easier said than done when it came to Prue.
“I appreciate this talk on trust, Owen,” Prue said, reaching for the can of Dr. Pepper that he swore she was addicted to, “but it’s not necessary. A hurricane wasn’t coming through the area the last time I checked. Go do what the hell you want and the shop will still be standing when you get back.”
“I’m not talking about a simple hurricane, Prue.” Owen was irritated with himself for not cutting to the chase quicker. Why did she have to be so damn stubborn that he always tried to word his sentences just so? “You want the straight up truth? The Yellowstone caldera is about to explode and we both need to be as close to northwestern Washington State as possible before that happens.”
There. Owen couldn’t have said it more clearly and he crossed his arms in determination while waiting for her reaction. It wasn’t what he’d expected, especially since he’d never really heard her laugh before. As was in Prue’s nature, she wasn’t the most ladylike when it came to her responses. He was relatively sure the soda made its way into her nose when she snorted. She used the crook of her arm to wipe any remaining liquid on her face and continued to laugh until she had to put her drink down.
“Prue, I’m not making this shit up.” Owen glanced at his watch, the face of it beat up with scratches from his line of work. His gut feeling was that Berke was right on the money and the truth was rearing its ugly head, making Owen have the aching need to get out while they could. “Have you seen the news? There was a six point one earthquake at Yellowstone National Park yesterday and a vent opened up this morning.”
“Owen, there are hundreds of earthquakes in a day,” Prue said, finally having caught her breath and was now shaking her head at the absurdity of it all. Owen could only wish he was trying to pull one over on her, but he didn’t have all day to placate her. “I’m sure that the media would have let the public know if anything on that kind of scale were about to happen, professor.”
Prue had basically reiterated what Owen had just got done saying to Berke. It didn’t make it the truth, though. He did understand that he could have handled this situation better, but it was too late to turn back the clock. That inherent reflex to survive kicked in and he turned to start gathering some of the items they would need for the road trip. She would have to listen as he worked.
“Berke called an old friend at the USGS in Virginia,” Owen explained, quickly walking across the stained cement to where his workbench was located. He started shuffling through the various parts that she would need to create an oil bath air filter. He could admit that she was the one with a natural gift when it came to restoring and fabricating parts for motorcycles. Of course, he needed to convince her that they needed a filter that hadn’t been used for some time and had been basically nonexistent since the 1960s. “She told him the truth and the bottom line is that the caldera is getting ready erupt. The government doesn’t want to cause a widespread panic when a warning won’t matter anyway. At least three states will be obliterated by the blast and the ash cloud will then cause mass casualties across the entire United States. It’s too late for a warning. The guys are all headed to Washington State with what they could manage to scrounge. That’s our best bet and we’re going to meet them there, but we can’t make it with my bike the way it sits, which is why we’re going to fashion an old-fashioned oil bath air filter.”
Owen was pleased when Prue didn’t interrupt him this time and he was able to finally get out all of the information she needed to know. Add on that she wasn’t arguing with him and his day was starting to turn around. He found some clamps and a couple of canisters he figured she could splice together with some K&N air filter parts and then turned to finish their conversation only to find that Prue wasn’t where he’d left her. He looked around, astonished that she would have left mid-discussion…especially when he was basically telling her that a disaster of epic proportions was about to take place. Son of a bitch—to use her phrase.
“Prue?” Owen slammed the parts back down on his workbench before going in search of her. He was about to head outside to see if her 2005 Dyna Super Glide Custom was in the graveled parking lot when he caught sight of her olive green cap. He made his way back to his office to find that she was sitting at his desk and using his computer. “Really? You leave in the middle of a conversation?”
Prue didn’t immediately answer, but she must have found whatever she was looking for on the screen because she finally sat back in his chair and swiveled it so that she was looking at him over his desk. Owen studied her face and could see that she was finally coming to believe what he was saying. Her mother’s Hispanic features were more prominent than her father’s Caucasian heritage, resulting in Prue having strikingly beautiful looks. Honestly, that was pretty much all he knew about her other than the fact that she was a loner and kept to herself. She’d mentioned multiple times that she didn’t have a family, so he assumed her parents had passed. It had taken him over a year to even make a chip in the barriers she’d put into place, but he’d earned that niche and wasn’t about to let her glue it back.
“In my experience, a person can only trust themselves and only then if they are not in a tight spot,” Prue stated, not a hint of resentment in her voice at having come to that conclusion. Owen wanted to change her opinion on that, but so far hadn’t been given the chance. He knew firsthand why it was so important to rely on oneself, especially growing up in foster homes, but joining the military had altered his view on trust. Depending on someone else to keep you alive had a tendency to do that. She continued to speak before he could try to rectify her outlook. “You’re about to close up shop, leave everything behind, based on the fact that a friend is telling you a supervolcano is about to explode halfway across the country.”
Owen could have gone into a lengthy explanation of why, but he could see that wasn’t what she wanted. There was a time and place for everything and one of these days he would get the opportunity to tell her why he trusted his teammates like he did. That moment wasn’t now, so he summed it up in one word.
“Yes.”
Prue observed him as if he were a bug under a microscope. Owen never wavered his gaze, needing her to comprehend how severe this situation was. They needed each other if they were going to make it to Washington and that meant that she would have change her way of thinking. It wouldn’t happen overnight, but he needed her to at least try right now. They were running out of time.
“You realize that you’re going to look damned stupid if this turns out to be a joke or if your friend has exaggerated this event somehow,” Prue pointed out as her fingers went to the necklace she always wore. It was a sterling medal of a saint, but he wasn’t sure of the significance since he wasn’t a religious man by nature. She always remained silent if he asked her about it. Nevertheless, it clearly gave her comfort. “I don’t like being put into that position.”
“It’s better than being dead, Prue.”
“Fine.” Prue stood to her five foot three height, coming up to his chest. She might be petite, but she had the attitude of a conqueror. “You can tell me more about the ash while I concoct two oil bath air filters and change our tires to something in Kevlar with a bit more of an aggressive tread should we need to ride a trail or two.”