Fall of houston series b.., p.1
Fall of Houston Series | Book 1 | No Way Out, page 1
part #1 of Fall of Houston Series Series
Contents
1. Will
2. Betley
3. Will
4. Cayden
5. Savanah
6. Will
7. Will
8. Cayden
9. Will
10. Will
11. Savanah
12. Will
13. Will
14. Will
15. Will
16. Savanah
17. Will
18. Will
19. Will
20. Betley
21. Will
22. Savanah
23. Will
24. Savanah
25. Will
26. Will
27. Will
28. Will
29. Will
30. Will
31. Will
32. Will
33. Will
34. Savanah
35. Will
36. Will
Sample Chapters
Also by T. L. Payne
About the Author
NO WAY OUT
Fall of Houston Series, Book One
Copyright © 2020 by T. L. Payne
All rights reserved.
Cover design by Deranged Doctor Design
Edited by Melanie Underwood
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.
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Check out other Books by T. L. Payne
The Gateway to Chaos Series
Seeking Safety
Seeking Refuge
Seeking Justice
Seeking Hope
The Days of Want Series
Turbulent
Hunted
Turmoil
Uprising
Upheaval
Mayhem
Although much of this story takes place in and around Houston, Texas, some aspects and locations have been altered to enhance the story. Most of locations within Calcasieu Parish, Louisiana, are fictional. Thank you for understanding an author's creative license.
“Texas is a blend of valor and swagger.” — Carl Sandburg
Created with Vellum
One
Will
Day of Event
“It’s just a house,” Will told himself as he nailed the last piece of plywood over the window. It was just wood, bricks, and concrete. That’s what he told himself, but Will Fontenot knew better. It had been a home—a real home—the place where he’d been happy once—where his wife and son had been happy.
Will studied his house. He’d done all he could. He hoped the sandbags and boards over the windows would be enough. The door slammed, and Will saw his son, Cayden, round the corner carrying his suitcase. It wasn’t just a house to Cayden, either. It was written all over his face as he stared back at their boarded-up home. Will wanted to reach out—to comfort his son, somehow—if only Cayden would let him.
“Do you think the water will reach my bedroom?” Cayden asked.
They were the first words Cayden had spoken to him all week. Will kept track—for the therapist. Cayden’s—not his. She would ask Will about it at Cayden’s next visit. His son suddenly seemed so small, much like the little boy that he’d been that night, two years before. Will looked away, unable to face him.
“Maybe,” Will said. He couldn’t lie to him. He wished he could. He would love to tell his son what he wanted to hear—that their house would be spared the damage from the incoming hurricane, but he couldn’t. At thirteen years old, Cayden was way too smart for that. He knew what a category five storm could do.
“Will you grab my backpack?” Will asked. “It’s just inside the door.”
Cayden grunted and dropped his suitcase near the back of the 1978 Jeep Wagoneer. Will had opted to take the old SUV rather than his truck. The truck was insured. He could get another, but the Jeep was irreplaceable. It had been his grandfather’s and would be Cayden’s in another three years.
Will placed the hammer and nails back in the garage and pressed the down button on the remote. He knew the next time he saw his truck or his tools, they would be underwater. The house had been spared during the last few hurricanes that had hit the Texas coast, but this time, the monster storm was heading straight for them.
Even though Cayden wouldn’t articulate it, Will knew what was on his mind. Will felt it too. If the house still stood after the storm passed, instead of opening his closet and smelling the scent of his wife’s perfume, he’d smell the stench of stagnant floodwater. Where they’d sat and enjoyed breakfast on Sundays, there’d be a foot of mud and debris. His hands balled into fists. Will cursed the storm that threatened to erase the last bit of his wife from their lives. He turned to face the Jeep and sucked in a breath. It wasn’t the storm that was to blame for that—he was. It was all him. He was the reason Cayden no longer had a mother. Will bowed his head and placed a hand on the side of the SUV.
“Here,” Cayden said, walking up behind him. Cayden dropped the backpack into the back of the Jeep and walked around to the passenger side. “I locked the door too,” he said.
Will nodded and stole one last look before climbing in and putting the Jeep into gear.
On the freeway heading north, Will let the Jeep roll forward a few more feet, coming to a stop behind the loaded-down pickup truck he’d been behind for the last several hours. It seemed all two million residents of Houston, Texas were attempting to evacuate at that moment. He ran a hand across his close-cropped brown hair and wiped the sweat from his brow.
Cayden hadn’t said a word since he’d plopped into the front seat and stuffed earbuds into his ears. There’d be no conversation on this trip. They had a lot of one-way conversations. Will kept trying, hoping eventually for the forgiveness that he feared would never come.
In the six hours they’d been on the road, traffic along Eastex Freeway had moved less than ten miles, many times coming to a standstill for several minutes before inching forward only to stop again. Will was about to lose his mind. They were still eighty miles from Point Blank and his family's house on Lake Livingston.
Will’s phone rang, and Cayden retrieved it from the cup holder between the seats. “It’s Aunt Savanah,” he said, handing the phone to Will.
“Put her on speaker,” Will said.
Cayden connected the call and placed the phone down between them.
“Hey, Sis,” Will said.
“Hey, yourself. Are you two on the road?” Savanah asked.
“For about six hours already.”
“Six hours? How far have you made it?”
“About ten or fifteen miles,” Will said.
“That sucks. I told you that you should have left earlier.”
Will said nothing. They both knew she was right. The last thing Will needed was a lecture from his younger sister. Yes, he should have left yesterday. He would have avoided most of the evacuation traffic, but he’d been trying to arrange to pick up Cayden’s birthday present early. He’d hoped that getting the puppy would make staying up at the lake house more tolerable for Cayden.
“How’s Cayden?”
“Ask him yourself. You’re on speaker.”
“Hi, Aunt Savanah,” Cayden said.
“How’s it going, bud?” Savanah asked.
“Okay,” Cayden replied.
Will knew the one-word response was only because he was listening. Cayden didn’t have a problem talking to Savanah.
“Well, I called to wish you a happy birthday. I wish I could be there,” Savanah said.
“Thanks,” Cayden said. “I know. Maybe we can come to see you soon.”
“Yeah. The kids would love it. Tell that brother of mine he should just come here instead. You know you both are welcome.”
Cayden glanced over. “He heard you.”
“Well, I’ll be here, if you change your mind.”
“Thanks, Savanah,” Will said.
“Love you guys,” she said.
“Love you too,” Will said.
Cayden placed his earbuds back into his ears, and Will turned his attention back to watching the truck's brake lights in front of him. He glanced at the fuel gauge and then toward the back of the vehicle. At this rate, they would run out of fuel before they even reached the city limits of Humble. There’d be no way they’d make it all the way to Point Blank before having to refuel. After hours stuck in traffic near downtown Houston, they were forced to leave the highway searching for gasoline. Will pulled off at the next exit, only to be greeted by a long line of vehicles waiting their turn at the gas pumps. After finally filling up, Will pulled away from the fueling island.
Will saw the vehicle careening toward them a second before the impact. A waterfall of glass cascaded down around him. The metallic groan was deafening. Past and present collided in his mind. Stunned, Will searched for the door handle.
He heard screaming.
Melanie?
Coppery blood pooled in his mouth.
There’s smoke.
He had to get out. He had to get his wife out.
No! No! No!
“Melanie!” Will yelled.
“Dad!”
“Cayden?” No. This
Shaking off his stunned confusion, Will looked around. A mid-sized sedan had jumped the curb and gone airborne, barreling sideways through the parking lot, and narrowly missing an older gentleman standing outside his truck. The vehicle had rammed into the line of cars waiting at the fueling island, then continued past them and slammed into the side of the Jeep. This was not one of his nightmares. This was real. And this time, it was his son’s life at stake.
Will strained against the seatbelt and reached for Cayden. “We have to get out of here.”
His gaze shot to the cars shoved together in a jumbled mess of metal just outside his door. There was smoke.
The fuel pumps!
He had to get Cayden away from there before the gas pumps exploded. Reaching down, Will quickly turned the key, shifted the old Jeep into gear, and punched the gas. The Jeep’s heavy-duty grille guard clipped the bumper of the car blocking his path, pushing it aside. Will’s heart raced as they sped across the parking lot. Blood filled his eyes from a gash above his brow. He couldn’t see.
“Dad! Stop!”
Will stomped on the brakes. He and Cayden were flung forward by the inertia. The seatbelt dug into his shoulder. The vehicle stopped inches from the concrete wall that separated the parking lot from the building next door. Will wiped the blood from his eyes and turned to his son. “Are you hurt?” Will asked as he ran his hands over his son’s torso and arms.
“I’m fine. Dad, I’m fine,” Cayden said sharply. “What happened?”
“That car jumped the curb,” Will said, turning his attention to the chaos outside the Jeep.
Cayden unbuckled his seatbelt and stared out the shattered window. “Is anyone hurt?” he asked.
Will glanced at the wreckage. “Maybe.”
“Shouldn’t we help?” Cayden said, reaching for the door handle.
“Wait here,” Will said, opening his door.
He examined the dent in the side of the old Jeep Wagoneer, surprised that there wasn’t more damage. Images of his wife’s mangled Volvo flashed before him. He quickly pushed the memory aside.
“Lock the doors,” Will said, shoving the keys into his pocket.
“I don’t think it will do much good,” Cayden said, pointing to the broken window.
“Stay in the car,” Will said.
As he ran around the side of the building, Will could see that the careening car had shoved an SUV overtop of the pump. Will weaved between cars and stopped in the parking lot. The vehicle burst into flames. In seconds, smoke rose from its back window. Mothers and fathers snatched small children from their cars and ran from the burning wreckage.
“That woman’s trapped,” a man yelled as he ran from the scene.
Without thinking, Will ran toward the burning SUV.
“Someone, turn off the pumps!” a woman yelled.
Another shouted for someone to call 911.
As Will ran, he reached into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone. The screen was black. He pressed the button over and over, but his phone was dead.
“My phone’s dead,” a twenty-something man said.
“So is mine,” another replied.
As Will approached the burning SUV, the heat coming from the gas pump was intense. The back half of the car that sat on top of the pump was now fully engulfed in flames. Will expected it to explode at any moment. His stomach tightened. He had to act fast, but time seemed to slow. Voices stilled as Will focused on the driver slumped over the wheel.
He raced to the driver’s door. The interior of the car was full of smoke. Yellow flames flickered between the twisted metal. Will sucked in the rancid, smoke-filled air and coughed. His eyes stung and tears streamed down his cheeks. Will shielded his mouth and nose with his shirt and pulled on the door’s handle. It was locked. Will pounded on the glass, trying to rouse the woman. The back seat was now in flames. He had to do something. He couldn’t just stand there and watch this woman burn to death.
Panic gripped him. His heart raced. He felt his mind slipping, detaching.
Not now. Not here.
Images flashed through his mind. The sights, sounds, and smells of the night that had changed his family forever nearly paralyzed him. He was back there watching his wife as she lay trapped in the mangled, twisted metal of her Volvo. Her screams pierced his soul as the heat from the flames melted the fabric of her synthetic clothing. Will fought to shake off the overwhelming guilt and shame that hit him like a tidal wave. Screams jerked him from his fog.
“It’s going to explode!” a woman screamed.
Will reached into his pocket and found his car keys. On the ring was his car escape tool. He pressed the device against the window in one fluid motion, punching a hole in the glass. A rush of heat and smoke hit him in the face. He coughed violently as he reached in and yanked open the car door. The flames, now fueled by outside air, intensified and spread to the front passenger seat. Will grabbed the woman by the arm and yanked hard. She screamed but didn’t budge. Will reached down and felt for the seatbelt across her waist. For a moment, it was Melanie’s frightened eyes that stared back at him, pleading with him to save her. Will pulled and tugged, but the belt didn’t budge. He turned the tool around and used it to slice through the strap.
“I’m getting you out,” he said as he pulled her from her seat.
Will dragged her away from the burning vehicle. Not taking time to stop and assess the woman’s injuries, he scooped her up into his arms and ran toward his Jeep. He hoped the building would shield them from any fiery debris that might be propelled into the air by an explosion. No sooner had he placed her on the grass by the road than the car, then the pumps, exploded, sending a ball of flames into the air. Will kneeled next to the woman, gasping and coughing as he tried to suck in oxygen. He felt a hand on his back.
“Is she okay?”
Will glanced back. A petite Asian woman, clutching a green duffle bag to her chest, bent over the injured woman. “She’s in shock. She needs a hospital,” the woman said straightening. She looked like she needed medical attention herself. Blood dripped from a gash above her eye. Her lip was split, and her pants were torn.
“An ambulance should be here any minute,” Will said. “You’re injured. You should sit down.”
Even without calling 911, surely the fire department or police would see the massive ball of flames shooting into the air. People were standing in the middle of the parking lot, staring at the burning wreckage.
“Get back behind the building. There could be more explosions,” Will said, pointing to the side of the store.
Will turned his attention back to the injured woman on the ground. She stared back at him, wild-eyed. Will could see blood in her long brown hair. He wiped it from her face and examined the bump above her brow. She had abrasions on her left cheek. Her right forearm was burned. It looked like her wrist might be broken as well. She needed medical attention right away.
Cayden appeared by his side. “Is she all right?”
“Run to the Jeep and get the trauma kit from the back,” Will said, tossing him the keys. “Get the one in the red and yellow duffle. Grab a bottle of water too.”
Will hoped that emergency services would arrive before he’d need the trauma kit. After his and his wife’s accident, he’d vowed to never be caught without one again. He’d taken a first-aid class and made sure to carry the bag in his vehicle at all times, but he’d never had to use it. Will looked up, searching for fire trucks, ambulance, or police. He saw none. What he saw were vehicles piled up in the intersection. Smoke was coming from one of the buildings downtown.
