Then there was Delmar to consider, and his dad’s prison buddies, all of whom would be gunning for him. No this was a family thing, and as much as his Navy SEAL teammates might be family, well, they didn’t need to be dragged down into this special kind of hell. Nope, it was reserved for blood kin.
***
Drake could handle tired. He could handle pissed. It was scared that got to him. And the only thing that ever got him scared was when people he loved were in danger, it was like his knees turned to water. It wasn’t until he had them firmly behind him so he could protect them, that he felt solid. Then there was always hell to pay.
It took everything he had not to shove the people in front of him out of his way so he could get off the plane quicker at the McGhee Tyson Airport. He needed to get to the rental car place and on the road. It was already getting dark, and he knew it would be freezing outside. The Smoky Mountains in Tennessee was a vastly different climate to the one he had gotten used to in Southern California. He couldn’t give a shit about himself, it was Piper he was worried about.
Drake had to go to baggage claim because he had checked a small bag that included his pistol and a couple of other items that might come in handy. He picked up his suitcase from the carousel then headed to the rental car counter.
“I’m sorry, Sir, but we don’t have your reservation on file,” the pompous young man said with a bit of a sneer. “I can try to get you a car for tomorrow. Right now everything is booked.”
At last, somebody to take his anger out on. “I have the confirmation e-mail here in my phone, Son.” Drake gestured to his phone on the counter.
“I don’t know what to tell you. That confirmation number isn’t pulling up as valid.”
Drake looked over at the other agency lines, and they were long. Two counters had signs up that said there were no rental cars available. He’d had enough of this happy horseshit. He looked at the kid’s nametag.
“Roger, you have three options. You find me a rental car now. You get your manager who will find me a rental car now. Or you give me the keys to your car. I really don’t give a damn which of those options you choose. Do you understand what an executive complaint is? Do you know what will happen when I call your corporate headquarters and say that Roger, of the McGhee Tyson Airport ExecuCar Rental Car Agency, failed to get an active member of the military his rental car when he had a valid confirmation number?”
Drake really wanted to pound the little shit into sand, but that wouldn’t get him the car he needed. He watched with a little bit of disappointment as the tiny asshat turned gray and his fingers flew over the keyboard. The pompous jerk finally looked up with a forehead shiny with perspiration.
“I found you something. We didn’t actually have a car in the class that was on your confirmation, but we have an SUV. It’s a higher price.”
Drake raised his eyebrow.
“Of course, there won’t be any additional charge,” Roger said quickly. Drake handed over his license and credit card. “Will you need a map?” Roger questioned.
“No.”
Roger quit asking questions and processed the paperwork.
Soon Drake was on Hwy 321 toward Jasper Creek, and he was dismayed with what he found. Before Christmas, he’d watched the news of the fires that destroyed acre after acre of the treasured countryside, but to be there and driving through it months later was another thing entirely. It hurt to see the burnt-out shells of businesses beside the road.
As he drove past Floyd’s gas station a little past Gatlinburg, he saw the out of business sign on the husk of the small store where his mom used to buy cigarettes. Drake remembered using his very first fake ID there to try to buy beer and being thrown out. He wondered whether Floyd hadn’t had insurance, or if he had just given up.
Drake wanted to drive faster, but he knew that speed traps were as abundant as Elvis sightings. He didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardize getting to Piper as soon as possible.
Which means quit turning your head, Avery!
But Drake couldn’t help noticing Pearl’s Diner. The building was a burned down mess, but the iconic sign with a winking fifty’s waitress holding a tray with a burger, had been refurbished and was good as new. The building had a sign that said that it would reopen in the spring. He remembered his mom taking him, Trenda and Evie there once. It had been a real treat. He and his sisters had shared a root beer float and French fries.
Finally, he saw the highway turnoff to Jasper Creek. He continued past it towards the campgrounds. He’d googled it when he’d been in Denver making his connecting flight. He couldn’t remember the name of the campgrounds, and he hadn’t thought to ask Piper when he’d had her on the phone. All he really remembered is that it had a creek and a puppet stage. When he had looked up the campgrounds near his old hometown, he had eventually hit on a name he remembered, Camp Smoky. Not necessarily the right image for those who wanted their children to not take up smoking, but it made sense in the Smoky Mountains. As he drove, continuing to watch for Camp Smoky, it began to sink in that after twelve years he was finally home. It was surreal.