Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Aaron exits the vehicle. “Nice to meet you. Aaron. My family and friends have been through hell. Can your people help us?”
The man is silent for a moment, then rattles out in a gritty voice, “The name’s Harry. This guy here is Ryan. We’re both firefighters here in St. George. What sort of help do you need? We don’t have much in the way of food or supplies.”
Firefighters?
My gut lurches with hope but then quickly fizzles at the reminder Stovepipe Wells had cops in their group and they were up to no good.
“We’ve been traveling from San Francisco,” Aaron explains tiredly. “It’s gone. Completely drowned by the sea. I was lucky enough to have been on my boat when the tsunami hit. Rescued this lot from one of the high-rise buildings still sticking out of the water.”
“No shit?” the younger man, Ryan, asks. “That’s a helluva long trip.”
“A lot on foot,” Aaron continues. “We’ve lost a lot of people. Most recently, outside of Vegas, we lost a woman and her son to a sinkhole. Our group is beaten down and defeated. Any kindness will help. Please.”
The men are quiet for a moment but then the gritty man, Harry, speaks. “There’s a Motel 8 just beyond this roadblock. It’s meant to be a place to catch your breath for a day or two before moving along. A visitor’s station if you will. We have volunteers who can offer minimal first aid and medical care. Water is still working, but power is out. There’s a cafeteria set up at the fire station. We can offer one meal a day to newcomers, but that’s it. I’m sorry, but that’s all we have.”
After the time we’ve had, a nice, safe haven with a couple of promised meals sounds almost too good to be true.
“This isn’t a trap?” Aaron asks. “We’ve run into some unsavory folks. A lot of them.”
Harry grunts. “Same, brother. I sure hope you didn’t pass through Stovepipe Wells. We’ve taken in a few people who barely escaped with their lives over there.”
“That would be us, too,” Aaron admits. “I think they’re capturing women to do God knows what with. It’s more of a prison camp than a safe haven. We got away from them by the skin of our teeth.”
“Sounds like you guys have a lot of information,” Harry says. “How about this? We put you up in the motel and then we can trade information for some supplies. You’ll need it when you leave in two days.”
Is it too much to hope for them to keep us indefinitely?
“I can’t thank you enough for your kindness, Harry. We’ll tell you everything we know. Dan, there in the truck, is a dentist. He just lost his wife and son, but I know he can help out if anyone needs their teeth looked at. I owned a deep-sea fishing and bay tours company. We may be a ragtag group, but I’m sure we can offer help in return for your graciousness.”
Soon, the engine starts back up again and we pass by the two men standing guard at St. George. Harry, a burly, massive man, meets my gaze as we drive by, pity in his expression. I know we look like hell.
Aaron drives over to the Motel 8 and parks in an open spot. By the time we all start climbing out, a heavyset woman with gray hair pulled into a severe bun waddles out of the front office. She speaks on a radio for a moment and then offers a smile of greeting.
“Harry says we’ve got guests,” the woman says. “I’m Florence. I don’t own this motel, but I’ve been on the Chamber of Commerce board for years. They’ve appointed me to run this post. Rooms one, three, and seven are available. Fresh linens, some bottled water, and a few snacks are provided. There’re also toiletries so you can clean up. If you leave your dirty things outside your door, someone will be around this evening to collect them and give them a washing.”
“Thank you,” we all mutter out pitifully.
“We do what we can,” Florence says. “Harry wants to meet for breakfast to exchange information. He said to meet in the motel office. Then, for lunch, you all can go down to the fire station for a hot meal. Something tells me it’s been a while since you all have had one of those.”
The last hot meal I had was forever ago and I got sick from it.
After we figure out the bed situation between the rooms, me and Tyler take the king-sized bed in room one. Aaron and Hope decide to stay with Dan and Hailey in room three with the two double beds, and Wayne and Jesse take the last room. As if in a trance, me and Tyler strip out of our clothes and gather all our dirty ones from our bags. While he starts the shower, I peek out the door and drop them in a heap. I’m not keen on leaving my clothes in someone else’s care, but in this moment, I have no energy left to fight. By the time I reach the shower, steam fills the small bathroom.