The drive from Gretna to Luray took nearly four hours. Issa led the way in her Prius, and Lulu followed, driving the slavers’ flatbed truck. Dolly and Jen rode with Issa, while Marcy and Theresa rode with Lulu. They came in from the west, along Highway 211, passing the Schewel Furniture Company, a BB&T bank, and a Taco Bell, all of them dark and lifeless.
As was often the case around towns and cities, the closer they got to Luray, the more congested the road became. Tractor-trailers, cars, panel vans, and even a fully loaded logging truck were encased in the perpetual traffic jam. Many of the vehicles’ doors remained open, a hint at the desperation people had faced when the outbreak first manifested. As nearly all of them had learned, however, the virus was not something that could be escaped.
Jen pointed to a long lazy curve up ahead.
“The caverns are just around that bend.”
Issa steered the Prius into a McDonald’s parking lot. The building was dark and the windows shattered. Two distinctive clumps of dried human remains lay beside the door. Bloodstained skulls sat atop yellow and black uniforms, embroidered golden arches still visible on their shirts. Unlike the adjacent roadway, the parking lot was relatively deserted. Apparently, a Big Mac was the last thing escapees had on their minds.
She brought the car to a stop at the far side of the lot and climbed out. Lulu pulled the flatbed truck in next to her, taking up several empty parking slots. A few seconds later everyone stood huddled together, staring at Issa as if they expected her to roll out charts and maps outlining some foolproof blitzkrieg.
She didn’t. Instead, Issa bent down and checked the laces on her boots.
“We got a plan or what?” Lulu said, puffing on a cigarette she had scavenged from one of the dead slavers.
Issa pointed to a dense plot of trees to the east.
“Jen says the caverns are that way. The first thing we’re going to do is see if we’re even in the right place.” She turned and started for the trees. “Spread out a little, and try to stay quiet.”
Dolly followed a few steps behind Issa, and Jen a few behind her. The other three women ignored Issa’s advice and clustered together, twenty or thirty yards back. When the trees finally broke, they did so into a sprawling parking lot, roughly the size of something found outside of a Wal Mart. A crowd of perhaps eighty people huddled in front of a wooden platform. A handful of men could be seen working on the structure, and the intermittent thwacking of hammers reverberated through the air.
Before Issa could really get a good look at things, a pickup truck turned onto the road leading into the parking lot. She quickly ducked back into the trees to avoid being seen, and motioned for Dolly and Jen to take a knee.
Once it had passed, they darted over to her.
“The entrance to the caverns is over there,” Jen said, pointing to the left side of the lot.
Issa brought her hand up to her brow as she tried to cut the glare of the sun. The brightness of midday was causing her eyes to leak a thin mascara-like substance that slowly trickled down her cheeks.
The other three women approached from the rear, and Issa let everyone gather together before discussing what to do next.
“It looks like they’re building something,” said Marcy.
“A stage,” offered Theresa.
“That ain’t no stage,” said Dolly. “It’s an auction block.”
“If that’s true, where are the slaves?”
No one had an answer. Unfortunately, from their vantage point, much of the lot remained blocked from view.
“Let’s move further around to get a better look,” said Issa.
She turned and began walking northeast, careful to stay twenty or thirty feet inside the tree line. Dolly and the other women resumed their respective posts behind her. As they approached the north end of the field, the parking lot came into full view.
The stage was just that, a stage, likely from a local high school band department. Wooden stairs had been erected on either end to facilitate easier foot traffic. A pot-bellied man stood at the edge of the stage, smoking a pipe and giving directions to a handful of workers as they completed the final preparations.
Having cleared the trees, they could now see five flatbed trucks parked along the southern edge of the parking lot. Several dozen prisoners had already been unloaded and stood in a jagged line beside the trucks, armed men watching over them.
Lulu turned to Jen. “Looks like you were right. This is where it’s happening.”
She nodded. “How are we going to free them with all those guards watching?”
“It’s not only them watching,” added Marcy. “There’s probably a hundred and fifty people out there now, with more arriving every minute. It’s going to be hard to get close enough without being seen.” She held up the Colt Gold Cup and looked down its sights. “I don’t think I could hit any of them from here.”
Issa gently pushed the gun down.
“The only thing we have is surprise. If we give that away, we’re all dead.”
“If you ask me, this whole thing’s doomed from the start,” said Lulu. “The guards have us outnumbered ten to one.”
“Not if you count the prisoners,” countered Issa.
Dolly said, “You’re thinkin’ if we set them free, they can help do some of the fightin’.”
“No. I’m thinking that if fifty or sixty prisoners are running in different directions, it’ll create enough confusion for quite a few of them to get away. Throw in a few well-placed gunshots, and we might just start a full stampede.”
“That’s a good idea, but it ain’t gonna work unless they know they s’posed to run.”
Issa nodded. “They also need to know that we have a truck ready to carry them away from here.”
“But how are we possibly going to get word to them?” said Jen.
Issa pressed her lips together. “Simple. One of us is going out there to tell them.”
She cringed. “Who?”
“The one who has the best chance of not being noticed.”
Issa looked around the group. Each of the women had their own disfigurements from the pox. Marcy’s joints were swollen, and she tended to hobble from side to side when she walked. Jen’s face and hands were covered with scars from the blisters. Theresa hadn’t been afflicted too badly, although patches of her red hair had fallen out, leaving her scalp bare in some spots. Lulu and Dolly were probably the two least affected, although like all the infected, their eyes were as black as obsidian.
“I’ll go,” said Dolly.
Everyone turned to her, surprised.
“But you’re…” Jen searched for the right word.
“Old, I believe, is the word you’re lookin’ for? And that part’s true enough. But the way I see it, ain’t nobody gonna pay an old woman no mind.” She lifted her flabby breasts. “What used to be in the attic is now hangin’ in the cellar.” She grinned. “I’ll go, and I’ll find my Jerome. Once I do, I’ll tell him to pass the word on to the others. I can’t shoot for nothin’ anyhow, so this’ll be my part in all this.”
Issa nodded. Dolly was not only the first to volunteer, she was also the most logical choice.
“Assumin’ I make it to Jerome, what exactly should I tell him?”
“Tell him everyone has to try to escape all at once,” said Issa.
“But how they gonna know when’s the right time?”
“They’ll know because we’re going to create a diversion to draw away some of the men. When that happens, it’ll be their cue to move.”
“What kind of diversion?” asked Lulu.
Issa studied the parking lot more closely. As people waited for the auction to begin, many were mingling outside a large brick building with a Luray Caverns Welcome Center sign out front. A little past it was an outdoor playground, and beyond that, a sprawling single-story structure.
She turned to Jen. “What’s in that far building?”
“It’s a museum filled with old cars.”
Issa nodded. “That’ll do nicely.”
“Do for what?” said Theresa.
“For burning.”
Her eyes opened wide. “You’re going to start a fire?”
“No,” she said, “we’re going to start a fire. And a big one at that.”
Issa popped the hatch on the Prius. A five-gallon plastic jerry can full of gasoline rested in the back, with blankets wedged around it. She lifted out the canister and set it on the ground. It was heavy, maybe thirty pounds or more.
“This should be plenty to get things going.”
Dolly seemed concerned. “But child, ain’t you gonna need that to get back home?”
“I’ll find another way.”
“But yo’ husband—”
“My husband’s already out looking for me. Of that, I have no doubt. If I can make it to Mount Weather, he’ll find me.”
Dolly pressed her lips together and nodded.
“We sure owe you some kinda debt for what you’re doin’ here.”
“Only if I don’t get us all killed.” Issa closed the hatch and picked up the gas can. “This thing’s heavy, and I’m not planning on carrying it all by myself. So, stay close.” She wheeled around and started back through the forest.
The walk back to the lookout position seemed to take forever, partly because they had to haul the gasoline, and partly because everyone knew the trouble they were heading toward. They arrived to find the parking lot teeming with people, easily three or four hundred now, and more arriving in a steady caravan of cars and trucks. Unlike pre-Civil War auctions, the slave buyers were not southern aristocrats in search of farm labor but, rather, families who had managed to survive the outbreak only to discover that hardship was now a way of life. The temptation to have a “lesser” person around to do the lowliest of chores was apparently strong enough to overpower any sense of moral decency.
Issa pulled off her sunglasses and held them out to Dolly.
“Put these on to hide your eyes.”
When Dolly slipped on the large-framed glasses, she looked like an African American version of fashion icon Iris Apfel.
“I’ll try to get ’em back to you when this is over.”
“Don’t worry about that. You and Jerome just keep running.”
Dolly nodded. “I’ll put my hand up in the air once I’ve gotten word to him.” She leaned in and gave Issa a hug. “In case I don’t see you again.”
Issa softly patted the old woman’s back.
“Just be careful.”
Dolly said nothing more, releasing Issa and walking out into the parking lot like someone who had stepped away to use nature’s facilities. Her gait was calm and slow, and no one seemed to take the least bit of notice.
Issa turned to the other women.
“The rest of us will circle around through the trees and slip in behind the car museum.” She reached down and picked up the jerry can. “Let’s move.”
Their pace was quicker now, Issa leading them in a slow jog. For things to go off as planned, she needed to have the diversion ready before the auction got underway.
By the time they arrived at the back of the museum, Issa was breathing heavily, her arms crying for a rest. She set the fuel by her feet and studied the back of the building. While the face of the museum was a conglomeration of brick, wood, and stone, the rest of the structure was constructed of painted concrete block. A low-bay door was at the rear of the building, no doubt to allow cars to be brought in and out. A service entrance sat beside it.
Issa turned to Jen and Marcy.
“While we’re getting things ready inside, you two go and get eyes on Dolly. Let me know once she raises her hand.”
They nodded and hustled around the side of the building.
Issa, Theresa, and Lulu moved up to the back of the museum. The service entrance was a metal-clad security door without any kind of a handle, lever, or knob. Issa thumped it with her fist.
Solid core. No way to kick it in.
She stepped over to the low-bay door and gave the two small handles a tug.
It didn’t budge.
She straightened up and studied the rear of the structure. Her eyes were drawn to three rectangular windows about eight feet off the ground. Used only for light, they had no way of being opened.
She turned to Lulu, who was by far the lightest of the group.
“We’ll lift you up so you can climb through and open the door.”
“And what exactly am I supposed to do about the window?”
“Smash it out with your pistol.”
“That sounds like a good way to get myself all cut up.”
“We have to get inside somehow. Given my condition, I’m not taking a chance on falling. So, unless you want to lift Theresa, you’re the one.”
Lulu eyed Theresa. While not fat, she had a soft layer of flab covering most of her body.
“I’ll do it if you want,” she offered.
Lulu shook her head. “Nah. I’ve got it. Just don’t drop me.”
Issa and Theresa stood beneath one of the windows, their hands cupped in front of them. Lulu stepped up, and they lifted her into the air. Teetering slightly, she tapped the butt of the Beretta against the glass until it shattered. She took her time, clearing the frame of any remaining shards.
“Okay, lift me higher so I can climb through.”
Straining under her weight, Issa and Theresa hoisted her up another foot so that she could slip through the opening. Lulu belly-rolled through and dropped down into the museum. A few seconds later, the back door opened.
Theresa went in first, and Issa followed, carrying the jerry can. The museum was dark except for what sunlight filtered in through the windows. To their immediate left was a baby-blue 1896 Peugeot. Two faded bench seats sat facing one another, a brass-tipped handle poking up from between the seats, allowing the rearmost rider to steer the vehicle. The front of the car was equipped with a single bulbous headlight that resembled a searchlight, and the sides were adorned with matching brass lanterns. Next to the Peugeot sat a mint-green 1903 Speedwell, and next to it a split-seat 1905 Riley. On the other side was an enormous open-air stagecoach with black leather seats and beautifully polished wood poles supporting the roof.
“Look at this place,” Theresa said with awe. “It’s like an old movie set.”
She was right. The entire building was filled with antique cars, old-time carriages, and covered wagons. The women wandered for a moment, reading some of the signs standing in front of the carefully preserved vehicles.
There was a bright blue 1931 Morgan sports car that would have been at home on the set of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and a 1930 Cord that, with a few added bullet holes, could have passed for Bonnie and Clyde’s getaway car. There were probably fifty vehicles in total, each as irreplaceable as the next. Issa didn’t know if it was a private collection or gathered together for the sole purpose of selling tickets to connoisseurs of vintage automobiles. It didn’t really matter either way because in a few minutes, all of them would be lost forever. Part of her regretted destroying such memorable pieces of history, but if it helped her and the others to survive, so be it. Casualties of war, as it were.
A desperate pounding sounded on the back door, and a voice hissed, “Issa, open up!”
Issa hurried over and pushed open the door. Jen stood on the other side, her face flushed, sweat beading along her forehead.
“What is it?”
“They got Dolly!” she panted.
“What? How?”
“They caught her talking to the slaves. They’re beating her right now. It’s bad, Issa, real bad. I think they’re going to kill her.”
“Where’s Marcy?”
“She got scared and ran back to the truck. Said she’d have it waiting for us.”
Issa’s nostrils flared as she forced air out. The plan was going sideways. She looked over her shoulder. Theresa and Lulu stood staring at her, uncertain of what to do next. No doubt both were wondering if Marcy had had the right idea.
“You three get this fire started,” she ordered. “Splash gas on as many vehicles as you can, start the fire, and then get back to the truck. Wait for everyone as long as you can, but when you have to go, go!”
Jen reached out and touched her arm.
“What are you going to do?”
Issa lifted the big Merkel. “Something stupid.”