Inferno Road

INFERNO ROAD K. LUCAS Copyright © 2023 by K. Lucas All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. All the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. EBook ISBN: 978-1-958445-13-6 Paperback ISBN: 978-1-958445-14-3 Hardback ISBN: 978-1-958445-15-0 Cover Design by Pretty In Ink Creations Editing and Proofreading by My Brother’s Editor CONTENTS Epigraph Chapter 1 2. This Morning Chapter 3 4. Now Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Thank you! Bonus Chapter The Edge of Your Seat Club Author’s Note Acknowledgments About the Author Let’s Connect! Also by K. Lucas For my son “Once more into the fray, into the last good fight I’ll ever know. Live and die on this day. Live and die on this day.” (The Grey, 2011) 1 A glance at the clock on the dash tells me I’ve been sitting on this freeway for over forty-five minutes, and another through the windshield says I’m still not halfway home. I let go of the steering wheel as I stretched. What a great day to be sitting in traffic, Ben. I start to ease up on the break as the car in front inches forward, but as I do, the driver in the next lane swerves into the opening, leaving half his car blocking both lanes. With a curse, I slam my foot back on the brake pedal and my hands on the wheel, this close to an accident. A few other cars honk and all I can do is stare at the other driver who’s doing anything to avoid my gaze through his windshield. Made it far there, buddy, didn’t you? We’re not even moving. What the hell were you t— The music on the radio stops. “Thank you for listening to Seattle’s Rock Station! We’re here with our special guest, Tim Howard, the volcanologist who warned us all about Rainier. Tim, It’s the five-year anniversary of the eruption, have you noticed any—” The DJ starts droning on and on, but I’m not in the mood to listen. There’s nothing worse than listening to people gab on and on, when all I want is some good music while I try to get home in one piece. As I turn the tuner knob, trying to get hold of my temper, I think about my wife and kids at home. Rachel is probably making dinner or getting ready to. I’m usually always home by this time; not being there feels so odd. I shouldn’t be here. If I wouldn’t have agreed to the overtime, I’d be at home already. My eyes drift to the clock again as if it’s a magnet that won’t fully release me. “It’s Thursday. Ryan’s still at practice,” I say to myself. “She’s going to have to pick him up—unless he got a ride from someone…Bea could be helping her to make things go a little faster.” When I texted earlier to say I’d be late, we didn’t exactly go into specifics about the kids. My stomach rumbles as the tuner finally lands on a good station. That’s more like it! I smile as Metallica’s “Enter Sandman” flows through my speakers. With a sigh, I lean back in my seat and relax as much as possible. I’ve still got a long way to go this evening, but if I’m going to battle traffic, at least give me some of my favorite bands. The memory of today—of work, my boss, the meeting, everything going wrong, the office politics, all of it—finally starts to fade a little. None of it matters, Ben, I remind myself, trying to erase the memory. Part of me has always been glad for the long commute, glad that even though I’m forced to work in the big city, I can still drive home to a small town and leave it all behind where it came from. Days like today are nothing but bad news, and dwelling on them doesn’t do me any damned good. So what if I had to stay late? So what if I hit a little traffic? The cars ahead start to inch forward again. I watch as the driver, who cut me off moments ago, straightens the car out and comes to a dead stop once again. My phone rings, and I look at the caller ID before answering. “I was just thinking about you cooking me a delicious dinner.” “You were, were you?” Rachel says. “Well, I was calling to see if you’d pick up something on your way home.” “Might be another hour yet. Traffic is worse than normal.” “That’s okay. Ryan isn’t home yet. I’ll call in an order at—” Rachel’s voice cuts off. “Rach?” I look at my phone to see nothing but a black screen. The call dropped. The music on the radio turns to static. Great, just what I need now. I slap the radio to shut it off and redial Rachel. Two beeps ping in my ear. Call failed. My eyes dart up to my service bars—no signal. What the hell? I rest my phone back in its spot inside my cupholder and turn the radio back on. There’s still nothing but static playing, so once again, I twist the tuner dial. Even listening to talking is better than this… Out the window, other drivers seem to all be doing