Chapter 6

"Why are we here again?" Abby asked when Hank insisted they stop at Ames. They used Noah's computer to MapQuest an Ames outside of New Jersey.

"Have you ever been inside a construction site?" he asked.

"No. Once, we had a bathroom remodel."

"Yeah, about what I expected." He led her to the shoe section. "You need work boots. Thick leather, water resistant, and steel-toed."

She assumed he wasn't joking when he pointed her down the men's aisle. "Why aren't we over in the women's?"

"Nobody makes women's gear worth a buck.  My two female roofers always struggle with it.  Your ballet flats will last five seconds on site," he said. "Since you're a tall glass of water, you'll be able to wear men's gear."

"You have women on your crew?" She'd always imagined construction to be a stronghold of tattooed masculinity. No chicks allowed.

"Not full time. They sub in on occasion when I need more help."

Abby reexamined him with a critical eye. She knew zilch about construction, but it was more complex than she'd ever considered, and he was higher up in the totem pole in the construction world than she realized. Then again, it wasn't like he was an eighteen-year-old kid; this was a man.

A hot, burly man with muscles and calluses and… better not to go there. He hadn't said or done anything since their encounter yesterday, despite seven hours in the car. No need to add complications to this by having sex.

"Bring on the work boots." 

He handed her three different sizes, and she fit into the smallest possible pair—a size six. He dumped three sets for her and three sets for him into their cart. "It's a start."

"Now what?"

"Clothes." Hank pushed the cart toward the women's clothing department.

"I have clothes." 

"Yeah, I saw what's in your bag. Those'll get torn up faster than your shoes. Time for practical stuff. Jeans, flannels, better bra."

Now she protested. "There's nothing wrong with my bra."

"Nothing wrong with it, but yours was more decorative than functional." Hank was a gentleman apparently and didn't need to comment on how up close and personal he'd gotten with it.  

Never stopped Abby. “It’s because a fabulous bra covers my less than fabulous boobs. But okay, sports bras?”

“And more,” Hank said. “Remember, if you are going to be part of my construction crew, you follow my orders. So, we buy gear now, change, pack it up, and try to get to the Towers.”

With no other options, Abby obeyed, even if it wasn’t in her nature. Once they’d bought their clothing, she put one of her new pink flannel shirts over her borrowed Cleveland FD T-shirt.

When they exited, something game changing was parked next to her car.

"That is a fire truck," Abby said with awe in her voice. The yellow firetruck was parked only feet from Abby’s Escort in the back of the Ames parking lot.

He didn't trust the look in her eyes. "Yes, it is."

"Think they're inside getting food or something?" Abby wandered closer, noting the lack of people in the cab. The firetruck was yellow and labeled 'North Dakota.'

"Most likely after they got gas," Hank said suspiciously. "Are you going to steal a firetruck?"

"Do I seem like the type of person who would steal a fire truck?"

"Yes, you seem to be exactly the person who would steal a fire truck,” Hank said.

"Does your heavy equipment operator license also include fire trucks?"

"I'm not stealing a fire truck," Hank said, hoping she wouldn't ask.

Before he could say anything else, Abby was chatting up the first firefighter out of the 7-11.

Hank, with wary expectation, watched the fortyish man go from surprised to crestfallen to charmed. Yet another poor guy who couldn't resist her. No wonder she was sure she could talk her way out of any ticket.

"Great news," she said. "We've got a ride. I need you as pack mule. We're going to move everything—the water, the beef jerky, the chips, the masks, and our bags – into the fire truck.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to the bathroom. They've been peeing in water bottles. Not sure I'm ready for that."

Ten minutes later, they left her car parked in the Ames parking lot and rode off in the firetruck. They sat in the back with Zack and Albert, while Clifford and Samuel took the front. The firefighters were more than solicitous to give Abby and Hank their own sets of earphones. The headphones protected them from the endless rumble of the firetruck but also allowed communication through the radio.

Based on the ongoing chat between Abby and the firefighters, she wasn't pretending to be a member of the Cleveland Fire Department. Instead, she presented herself as Hank's procurement secretary. She embraced his suggestion to be part of his company and played the part to the hilt. 

The firefighters were eager to talk with her. Hank estimated they'd been driving since Tuesday, shortly after the Towers fell. Firetrucks couldn't have gotten good mileage. By his guess, a firetruck’s seventy-five-gallon tank used diesel at a rate of five or six miles per gallon, same as his heavy trailers and dump trucks. It would make for a long, slow drive from Medora, North Dakota—at least 1500 miles and over thirty hours with stops every five hours. 

The guys sounded tired of talking to each other, but as usual, Abby had a solution. Six rousing games of Twenty Questions/Animal-Mineral-Vegetable later, Hank caught on to her strategy. First, Abby didn't give Cliff any grief when he used saber-tooth tiger as his animal, nor did she complain when he erroneously said it wasn't extinct. Second, she let him talk between questions because it let her steal their lingo.

The firetruck became a 'rig.' Hoses became 'pipes' and 'lines.' Their engine equipped with haz-mat gear was the 'Mop and Glow.' By the time they reached the Holland Tunnel checkpoint, these men treated Abby as a teammate. 

Dump trucks blocked eight of the nine toll booths, and a bunch of uniforms Hank couldn't quite make out stopped them. He got a glimpse of an M-16 assault rifle.

Across from him, Albert bundled Abby into a firefighter turnout jacket and a helmet. They passed Hank the same, and he put it on. They were now members of Medora North Dakota Fire.

The side door opened, and he saw police and national guard members give them a once-over. Even Abby remained completely silent, the helmet and jacket rendering her relatively shapeless.

The door was closed, and the fire truck began moving again. They passed three more checkpoints and rolled forward and downward into the tunnel going under the Hudson River. The Holland went from Weehawken and ended in lower Manhattan, only blocks from what was now called Ground Zero. From his position, Hank did not see the smoke that was present on TV. It had also rained earlier, so perhaps it had died down some.

Sound cut off as they entered as the sole traveler in the empty tunnel.

The mood inside the cab subtly changed. There was no more time for Twenty Questions.