Winds of Ares: An Apocalypse Thriller by Druga, Jacqueline (most recommended books TXT) 📕

breathing in, just in case it comes down at us again.”

I not only stepped back, I walked down the stairs, to be clear from the platform.

Martin struggled a little when reopening the hatch. It didn’t fly open as easily as it had prior. Perhaps it did, I wasn’t there when they opened it the first time. But I had watched as Rosie whipped it open pretty easily.

Martin tried not to show it was heavier and after a good push, it lifted. He had to keep pushing on it for the hatch to open all the way.

“Oh, boy.” Martin said. He lifted his tee-shirt over the bridge of his nose and climbed the small ladder to the top.

I grabbed his extended hand once I neared the top and used the leverage to get out of the hatch.

Martin’s first exclamation of, “Oh boy”, just didn’t seem big enough to describe what I saw.

How Martin did it, I didn’t know. He barely waivered as he looked around. His shoulders heaved up only once as he took a breath and took in the sight of it all.

“Lane, tell Rosie,” Martin said calmly. “It’s alright to bring the kids out.”

Martin’s property was always green. Whenever you looked at it, you just saw green. Beautifully landscaped, dotted with trees, and perfectly positioned fences, the ranch was magazine beautiful. He boasted his home looked like Ronald Reagan’s California ranch. The porch wrapped around a stucco, story and a half home with a red clay roof.

Now the green was buried beneath a layer of dirt and debris. Trees were split, many uprooted and tossed. A few pieces of fence poked up here and there. The house was the saddest part. The front porch had been ripped off, the roof was three quarters gone, and the house was a mere shell. It looked as if the contents of the house had been sucked up through the hole in the roof, mangled and ripped, then thrown everywhere.

I didn’t see Martin’s truck, but I saw Lane’s pickup. It was half off the driveway, laying on its side.

The one thing that surprised me was the barn.

It was still standing, but the metal structure took a beating. The huge dents and crinkles made me wonder what had slammed into it.

Martin ran to his barn. I hurried to catch up to him, but he reached there before I did.

The door was dented and warped, but he was able to open it.

I watched as he looked inside, then turned to face me.

“They’re alright!” he yelled. “They’re fine.”

I exhaled in relief, then thought of the other horses, the ones that had taken off. I prayed they ran and knew the danger, I hoped they got far enough away to be safe.

I heard a sob and glanced over my shoulder.

Rosie stammered hopelessly, then dropped to her knees in the dirt.

The children stood on each side of her, one hand on Rosie, trying to give comfort.

I couldn’t make out what she was saying, nor Lane, so I walked over.

A part of me knew what she was crying about. It wasn’t an attachment to the ranch, she cried with worry.

When I arrived, she was speaking through weeping words, as I suspected, it was about her family.

I didn’t know what to say or how to console her.

Martin did. At least he came off that way.

“Rosie,” he said her name soft and stern. “Listen to me. Never knew of a twister of any sort to go more than fifteen miles. You’re twenty miles out. I’m sure everything is fine. It didn’t start that far away.”

“We can call.” Carlie lifted her phone. “We can see if they’re okay. Wait. No. I don’t have a signal, Pap.”

“No. The tower is three miles west. Those funnels came that way,” Martin replied. “We can go check. The horses are fine. Lane? What do you think?”

Lane sighed out, hands on hips. “It’s dry, Martin. All this dirt. The horses are gonna need water and even at best speed, we’re talking a couple of hours before we can give them any breaks with all this.”

Reese pointed. ‘What about Lane’s truck? It’s on its side. Can we roll it back?”

Lane placed his hand on Reese’s head, rubbing his hair as if to thank him for the suggestion, and he walked over to his truck.

I watched as he examined it, touching it, grabbing things, walking around it and then he returned to us.

“Well?” Martin asked.

“I don’t see anything,” Lane answered. “Axle looks good, frame doesn’t seem bent.”

“Tie rod?”

“All one piece from what I can gather. I mean, it’s on the passenger side, so we may have some busted windows. Doors may not work. It’s fine right now, I really think. I mean the way it is.”

Martin nodded. “Until we flip it. It could cause damage.”

“It could,” Lane agreed. “But it’s worth a shot.”

“I’m sorry …” I held up my hand. “Don’t trucks weight thousands of pounds? How are you going to turn it?”

“Horses,” Lane replied. “My truck weighs about five thousand. Each horse can pull three times its weight. Two horses can do it, but if you have the harness, Martin, I’d do three.”

“I have the harnesses in the barn,” Martin replied. “Let’s get them. Let’s do this.” He then crouched down before Rosie. “We’re going to do this and then we’re going to go make sure that family of yours is fine. I am certain they are.”

“What about your home?” she asked. “All this?”

“All this is still going to be here when we get back. Don’t you worry.”

He stood, signaled Lane and they went to the barn.

I wasn’t confident in the plan to put the truck right side up. I felt bad for the horses, but Lane assured me they were strong. Still, it was a lot of pressure to put them through. After all, they were traumatized, too. They had to be. I know we all were.

They harnessed the horses and strategically placed the ropes on the truck.

Martin and Lane guided the horses and they pulled. I