Page 10 of Zero Visibility

A shiver reverberated between her shoulders at the open gate. Did she dare drive through it and into a possible trap?

With a quick breath, Jen pushed the pedal and cleared the gate. She searched the darkness for someone waiting to ambush her. It felt as if it took forever to reach the main road intersecting the village. Where had the car gone? Was it possible they hadn’t noticed the smoke from the fireplace? Her mind screamed it would be impossible not to see.

She pulled out onto the road and turned on her lights. The small town of Silver Hills was a few miles up from the ski village.

The last time she and Ben had been here, there was a little coffee house at the edge of town. She checked the time. Five-thirty in the morning. Hopefully, they’d be open because she needed to warm up, and a hot meal sounded heavenly right now.

She spotted the sign for Silver Hills Coffee and pulled into the empty parking lot. The lights were on. The place appeared open.

As much as she wanted to take her gun inside with her for comfort, she couldn’t. Instead, Jen tucked it under the driver’s seat. She squinted through the windshield at the empty restaurant. No one inside with the exception of the workers. It should be safe.

“No one knows who you are,” she said to herself and climbed out of the truck.

The cook and a couple of waitresses worked behind the counter when Jen stepped into the warmth of the place.

A woman making coffee turned. A blank smile covered her face. “Sit wherever you’d like, hon. Want some coffee?”

The coffee smelled wonderful. “Do you have decaf?”

The woman nodded. “Coming right up.”

Jen slipped into one of the booths at the back and faced the door so she could see anyone coming. Windows surrounded her. Jen suppressed a shiver at the feeling of being a goldfish on display.

“Here you go.” The waitress placed the full, steaming cup down. It clattered against the table. Jen jumped at the sound.

“Sorry, hon. I didn’t mean to startle you. Guess we’re all a little on edge after what happened.” The woman pointed to the TV up front as it ran updates on what had happened since the bombings.

“Yes, it’s terrible isn’t it?”

“Sure is. I haven’t seen anything like this since 9/11.” She shook her head. Her voice held that husky rasp that came from too many cigarettes. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Jen froze at the question, then shook her head. The woman handed her a menu and Jen pretended to study it while hoping to discourage any in-depth conversation. “What do you recommend?”

The woman pointed at the special of the day. “The big breakfast. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, and toast. Everyone likes it.”

Jen’s stomach rumbled at the appetizing photo of the big breakfast. “I’ll have that.” She handed the menu back to the waitress who scribbled the order on a pad and walked away.

Dumping cream and sugar into the coffee, she took a sip and closed her eyes. She had no idea where to go from here. Her house was off limits. The ski village was too risky. Where did that leave her?

“Please call soon, Ben,” she whispered under her breath.

Jen’s eyes were drawn to the newsfeed on the television screen. She realized they were talking as if her husband, several other men, and one woman were the conspirators behind the attack. The news appeared to be from earlier in the evening. The vice president had announced that the president was dead. Jen couldn’t believe it. The vice president’s face appeared grim as he informed the American people, he would be sworn into the office of president soon. The world was in turmoil and her heart was too.

Outside, a pair of headlights swept across the front of the restaurant. A truck parked up front close to the door. Several men dressed casually got out and came inside. The same waitress who took Jen’s order seated them.

Jen kept a careful eye on them. What were they doing out so early? It was still hours away from daybreak. They weren’t dressed as the usual early-morning workers would be. Definitely not construction workers.

Once they were situated, they scanned the room, their eyes landing on her. An uneasy feeling slithered down into the pit of her stomach and she called the waitress over and asked for her food to go.

“Sure thing, hon. I’ll bring you a to-go cup for your coffee.”

“Thanks.”

The men were still watching her. The need to get out of there as fast as she could grew with each assessing look they sent her way. She averted her face and turned away, pretending to stare out the window, torn between the need for nourishment and the desire to flee.

The men begin to talk amongst themselves once their coffees arrived. One of them reached for the sugar on the table and she spotted a weapon. They were armed.

Jen rose and tossed some bills on the table, then headed to the counter to wait for her order.

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