Frantic by Jerry B. Jenkins

conditioner only cooled the room to eighty degrees.
    â€œThis is worse than staying home in our trailer!” Vicki had yelled one night. “You said we’d see the ocean.”
    â€œI said a lotta things,” Vicki’s father said, “but this is outta my control.”
    Then the screaming had begun. The family next door called the manager and the manager called the police. Vicki wound up running out of the hotel and walking a lonely road most of the night. She hated being poor. She hated her parents for messing up their lives. And she hated being stuck in a hot hotel room with her little sister, Jeanni. To make matters worse, Jeanni was having a great time.
    The police didn’t arrest anyone that night, and the RV was fixed a few days later, but her parents had used all their vacation money on the hotel. They canceled the rest of the trip.
    â€œPlease let us go by the ocean,” Vicki had pleaded as they started their long drive home. What Vicki’s father did next shocked her. It still surprised her, just thinking about it. He pulled the RV to the side of the road, backed up, and turned around.
    â€œYou kids are gonna get your feet in the Atlantic if it’s the last thing I do,” he said.
    Jeanni had screamed with delight when they saw the water. It was the first time she had seen anything bigger than Lake Michigan. They parked and Vicki took off her shoes and ran to the shoreline, digging her toes in the wet sand. She picked up a few shells and stuffed them in her pocket.
    She looked back and saw her mother and father at the RV, shouting at each other. Vicki walked into the water. She wanted to keep going, just walk until the water was over her head.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” her father screamed, standing by the shore. “Get back here!”
    Vicki waded back, a wave toppling her when she turned. Her dad grabbed her arm as she went under and pulled her up, her hair wet with the salty water. Then he smiled.
    It had been such a long time since Vicki had remembered her father’s smile. The events since the disappearances had kept her so busy she didn’t think much about the past. But now, with the rumble of the diesel engine and the shaking of the truck cab, she let herself go back. She remembered little things like her dad’s stale-beer breath, the brand of cigarettes he smoked, and little Jeanni’s screams as Vicki chased her around the house. She remembered the laundry her mother used to hang on a line by the trailer. Seeing one of her shirts or a pair of pants flapping in the breeze had always embarrassed Vicki.
    But there had been moments, even before her mom believed in Christ, when they sat at the kitchen table and talked. Vicki’s mom had shared some of her dreams that would never come true. Vicki tried to listen and say helpful things, but sooner or later another fight would start, and her mother would grab a bottle and Vicki would slam her bedroom door.
    â€œDo you want something to eat?” Vicki heard someone say.
    â€œMom?” Vicki mumbled. She opened her eyes and saw Shelly. They were sitting in front of a truck stop.
    â€œI’m not your mother,” Shelly laughed. “Come on. Sun’s coming up. We’re in North Carolina. You’ve been sleeping all night.”
    The truck stop was almost empty. There was no one healthy enough to work in the diner, so Pete picked out some packaged food and paid for the fuel.
    â€œHow much longer?” Vicki said as they sat in a grimy booth at the back of the restaurant.
    â€œWe’d be about eight hours away under normal conditions,” Pete said. “With the damage from the earthquake and the tidal wave after the meteor, we’ll be lucky to get there by nightfall.”
    While Pete rested in the passenger seat, Carl got behind the wheel. He looked scared of all the gears at first, then seemed to get used to them. Locusts skittered among the trees as they drove through