Free Iron Mike by Patricia Rose

looked right back. “Where are you headed?” she asked. Her voice was as rich and smooth as cocoa, without a trace of Kentucky drawl.
    “Out to Dixie Highway,” Mike said, still being cautious. “I’ve heard FEMA was supposed to be setting up emergency shelters.”
    Kari calculated it. That would get her eight miles closer to her destination. “I’d appreciate the lift.” She moved toward the back door.
    “Jenn, get in the back seat,” Mike ordered using the automatic door locks to unlock the doors for Kari. “You can sit up front, ma’am. House rule – kids don’t get shotgun if there’s an adult in the car.” Mike didn’t add that, beautiful or not, he wouldn’t drive with the woman behind him. His grandfather’s Ruger SR9 rested on the driver’s seat under Mike’s right thigh, where he could grab it with just a quick shift of his leg. Jenn had seen him put it there and had rolled her eyes at him, but he’d ignored her.
    The girl took her heavy backpack off with a sigh of relief and set it onto the passenger floorboard as she climbed gratefully into the SUV. She adjusted her seatbelt and held her hands to the vent for a moment before turning to Mike with a warm smile. He turned the heater up a bit, even though the SUV was already toasty. “Thank you,” she said politely. “I’m Karissinna Kasoniak. Most people call me Kari.”
    “Ryan – Mike. Mike Sanderlin.”
    “It’s good to meet you, Ryan Mike,” she said, then shifted slightly to look at Jenn before he could offer a correction.
    “I’m Jenn,” she announced. “He’s my brother.”
    They rode for a few minutes in uncomfortable silence, like strangers in an elevator.
    “Where are you headed?” Mike finally asked.
    Kari smiled, the warmth of it not quite reaching her eyes. She was cautious, too. That made sense. “Fort Knox, or as close to it as you’re going. My father’s stationed on post, and he should be there, I’m hoping.”
    Jenn’s blue eyes met Mike’s in the rearview mirror, and he shook his head slightly. She pursed her lips and opened her Barbie case, deciding to ignore Mike as long as he was in an overcautious snit.
    “That’s a long walk,” Mike observed, glancing at Kari’s backpack, and then at her wind-burned cheeks. “It looks like you’ve already been walking awhile.”
    He thought her cheeks pinked a bit more, but her voice was still smooth and steady. “Yeah, I’m an idiot. I took my boyfriend’s jeep and never looked at the gas gauge.”
    “The blue Wrangler?” Mike asked. “We passed it about five miles back.”
    “Five miles?” Kari asked, her voice dismayed. It had taken her two hours to hike five miles? That was ridiculous, even with the slipping and sliding and steep incline.
    Mike glanced at her and returned his eyes to the road. “Yeah, but I cut off a few miles taking the Buckman Bypass instead of 44,” he told her. She seemed both relieved and annoyed at the words – probably annoyed because she didn't know the bypass was an easier route and would have cut three miles off her travel.
    Mike hesitated. He wanted to ask the question, but he didn’t want to be a jerk. “So … your boyfriend?” he finally hedged.
    Kari looked away, and Mike knew even before she answered. “He’s dead.” Her voice was emotionless. “We had … guests visiting. They all died, too.”
    Mike nodded. He didn’t want to count his losses, not with Jenn in the backseat. “I understand,” he said instead, meeting Kari’s eyes when she glanced up at him. She nodded simply.
    They drove in a more comfortable silence for several minutes, finally cresting Martin Hill and reaching flatter land. There were fewer vehicle wrecks and Mike was starting to increase speed, but suddenly he braked, the SUV fishtailing slightly before righting itself and coming to a stop. Mike narrowly missed hitting the older woman who stood in the middle of the road, blocking their path and waving her arms frantically. She