I didn’t know whether I could trust the guy, but I also didn’t have much choice. He had a gun pointed at me and my wife was inside his house, wounded and of little use to me when it came to things like backing me up in a firefight.
So I started talking. I told him about what had happened out there in the woods, and then about how we’d gone back to the truck to find that and our phones completely dead, for reasons that I still didn’t really understand—though I had guesses.
To my surprise, rather than arguing with me or asking for more details to this fantastical story, the guy nodded once and waved me into the house.
“Sit down,” he said, motioning toward where Angie was laying. He moved to put his shotgun on the hooks attached to the wall, and as he reached up, I saw a handgun under the bottom edge of his coat, maybe a Glock 29. I made a mental note of that, because it meant that although we had two guns—rifles—he was nearly as well-armed as we were.
And those were just the guns I knew about.
After unslinging his pack, the man went back out to retrieve the firewood I had started to carry in. I watched him move, observing the way he carried his large bulk and cataloging any potential weaknesses or vulnerabilities.
Hey, old habits died hard.
The large man seemed to favor his left side when he walked—a barely discernible shortening of his step, probably from an old injury that had never fully healed. I never would have noticed it if I hadn’t been specifically looking, but once I saw it, my brain immediately started thinking of ways to take advantage of it. Other than that, the man seemed strong and fit. Given his comfort with the cold and the way the cabin was set up, I thought he was probably accustomed to the rigors of off-the-grid living in a harsh climate.
This wasn’t a man who had just come out here on a vacation, or on a whim. It would be difficult to take him by surprise or find a weakness that had anything to do with the environment—if he turned out to be our enemy. I still hadn’t decided about that part.
As the man put the pieces of wood in the stove, he grunted, “So, electronics don’t work. Anything else unusual?”
“The animals.”
He gave me a doubtful look from beneath a heavy brow. “One angry bear that could have been protecting her cub…”
“It was alone. And it was already riled up when we found it. Before that, we saw a bird fall out of the sky like it was stunned.”
“A bird and a bear.” The man was using a manual flint-loaded fire-starter to send sparks into the kindling now, and I wished he’d hurry it up. I was freezing—and starting to feel the effects of the wound in my side. “That it?”
“It all started with a deer running in circles like a dog chasing its tail, then knocking itself unconscious by ramming into a tree.”
The man squinted and frowned, but made no further comment. Honestly, I was starting to get annoyed. How many examples did this guy need before he finally started to see what I was seeing? If he’d been out in the woods, chances were good that he’d seen something just as crazy.
If all the animals were acting the same way—and I was convinced that they were—then something had happened out there. I knew it.
“I know it sounds crazy. We thought it was crazy, too. But then…well, did you get a look at the sky?”
The man grunted again. “The sun.”
For a moment, as our burly host hunched down by the fire, I flashed back to the wild bear just before it turned to attack with all its speed and ferocity. This guy reminded me of that bear: large and dangerous and perhaps a little unstable.
I felt my muscles tensing and started to wonder if my body knew something my brain hadn’t figured out yet. Maybe there was danger here, and my brain was just too slow to catch onto it.
“My name’s John, by the way.” I forced a smile, hoping an introduction might defuse some of the tension. Maybe if we could start a conversation, I could convince my instincts to settle down. “This is Angie.”
The man didn’t acknowledge the introductions other than to take a good look at Angie’s sleeping form. Her face carried the look of a child having bad dreams, and she moaned softly every so often. I knew she was probably reaching delirium and that we needed to do something. Soon.
I also didn’t care for the way the big man was staring at her. There might have been a tight grin forming on his hair-covered face, but it was hard to tell.
He got up and lit the lamps, then went to a wall shelf and pulled down a couple of cans, a small can opener, and a sauce pan, took them to the table that appeared to also serve as a kitchen counter, and emptied the cans of what looked like beans into the pan. He set the pan on the stove top.
The fire began to crackle, warmth spreading through the room like the blessing of sunlight in summer, and I felt the exhaustion beginning to wrap itself around me, smothering my efforts to stay alert and aware. I busied myself with checking over Angie’s improvised bandage. Her wound had bled again at some point, but it seemed to have slowed again. The bandage was holding, and I thought the wound was probably starting to scab up in some places, but the skin around the wound was still very red and hot to the touch, despite our cold walk.
Still, there was nothing more I could do for the injury right now. I had to get her to a hospital to get her some real help. I needed to convince this guy to help us—or tell us where we could find help.
I covered her back up with the blanket and brushed my rough fingers along the smooth skin of her forehead. She looked too pale, and her breathing was a bit shallow. If she became feverish overnight, we were going to have some real trouble on our hands.
“She needs water.”
I looked up and found the big man with no name standing three paces away, facing his unwelcome guests. He held a glass of clear liquid in his hand. At the sight of the water, my throat felt suddenly dry.
“Here,” the man said, holding out the glass.
I cringed, wishing I’d been paying enough attention to have seen the man pour the water. I had no way of knowing what was actually in the glass. But we really did need the water, and though my better judgement was counseling caution, I took the glass, resisting the urge to drink first and tipping the cup over Angie’s mouth. I let a few drops fall out to wet her lips, and after a moment she licked her lips and opened her mouth. I poured thin streams of water into her mouth a little at a time, careful not to pour too much. When she’d had a few swallows, I tipped the cup to my own lips and took a sip.
5
The water was cool and refreshing, rejuvenating me a bit. It didn’t taste of anything other than water. And I’d had enough training in the taste of poisons to think I would know if I came across one. I waited for a moment for the numbing of my tongue or lips, as that would have indicated poison, but nothing happened.
“Thank you.” I handed the glass back to my host.
The man grunted again and returned to the stove. “Nice tags,” he said without turning around.
I lowered my eyes and noticed that my dog tags had slipped out from under my jacket. Dammit. I didn’t know why, but something about the man knowing I had that sort of training bothered me.
I was getting paranoid, I told myself firmly. There was no reason to hide something like that from the guy. Even if he turned out to be dangerous, he’d know I was military now, and would maybe think twice before he pulled anything.
“Uh, thanks.”
“What’s it like bein’ a mindless tool in the hands of a corrupt government?”
It was said casually, in an even voice, but contained an undertone of hostility.
Right. So not friends, then. My muscles, which had already been on high alert, pulled even tighter, and I narrowed my eyes at his back.
“I’m just jerkin’ yer chain,” the man said before I could reply, turning to offer a broken smile through his beard.
“Funny,” I said. “So, do you happen to have a working phone or a radio? Something we can use to call for help?”
Another
grunt. “Radio’s been busted for a while. Got a working truck, though. Could maybe help you get where you’re going. Where are you folks headed, anyway?”
I debated how much to tell him. I didn’t love the idea of letting this guy know who we were, but there didn’t seem to be much choice. I desperately needed to get Angie to a hospital, and I didn’t think I was going to be able to do it on foot.
I was running dangerously short of options. A truck would make life a whole lot easier—even if it came with the fine print of having this bear of a man tagging along. But I was going to have to make sure he didn’t try anything stupid.
“We need to get back to Ellis Woods as soon as possible,” I said. “My wife needs a hospital. And there’s someone there waiting for us.”
“Got family there, do ya?”
“Some,” I said. “We have a daughter in town. And connections to some…” I bit my lip, trying to find the right way through this. Would it be better or worse if he knew how important Angie was to the town leadership? Would it make him more likely to help us—or less?
In the end, I decided that it was worth the risk. Make Angie sound important enough and we might improve our chances of this man offering to help. If only because he thought he’d be getting a reward out of the deal.
“The truth is, the mayor is my wife’s uncle,” I said quickly. “And I’m sure he’d be awfully thankful to anyone who helped us out.”
I watched him, wondering if I’d guessed correctly, and saw him perk up—once at the mention of Ellis Woods and then again at the mention of Angie’s connection to the mayor.
Shit. I had a bad feeling that I’d guessed wrong. A bad feeling that I should have kept my mouth shut instead of trying to bribe him with information.
“Ellis Woods, eh? I know the place. Had some run-ins with the mayor over there. We don’t see eye to eye on some things.”
The man grinned while I tried not to let anything show on my face. Angie and her uncle were very close, which meant he was my friend and my family by marriage. If this guy was on the outs with the town leadership, I needed to be very careful how much more I told him.
It also made me wonder what exactly this guy had done to get on the outs with the town leadership. This far into the Michigan wilderness, most towns had rules that kept the towns safe and secure. If this man had run afoul of those rules, it didn’t speak well of his character.
We both fell silent, and I watched the man stir the food every few minutes, listening as the wind picked up outside, howling through the trees and forcing cold drafts through the seams of the cabin to bicker with the heat of the stove. As the minutes crawled by, the large man began to shift from one foot to the other, fidgeting and seeming more agitated by the second. His frequent trips to peek out the door made me even more nervous, and since each trip included the guy opening the door for a moment, each trip also had Angie grimacing in her sleep, nestling deeper into the blanket against the increasingly frigid wind that swept in.
Why the man needed to see outside was a mystery—until I heard a shotgun blast echo in the distance. Our host cracked a sneering smile though his beard, and my mind rushed through a series of possible conclusions. That would be either an ally or an enemy in the distance. Whichever it was, it seemed to calm the man’s fidgeting. He’d definitely been expecting someone.
Shit, shit, shit. I was getting more nervous by the second, because I didn’t like that grin. Didn’t like the idea that someone else was out there—with guns. Someone that this guy was expecting.
My assumption that the guy would turn out to be trouble was looking more and more correct with each passing second. And at this point I was willing to bet that I was outnumbered. My list of options was growing very, very thin. Especially with Angie out of commission.
The guy acted like nothing had happened, though, and served his meager meal on crusty-looking plates. Thinking that if we were going to have to run, it would be better for Angie to have had some calories, I roused her as much as I could and managed to scoop some beans into her mouth. When she shook her head at taking any more, I quickly finished her beans and my own.
If she needed calories, I would need double. I was guessing that I was going to end up carrying her at some point, and further, that we would be running. I would need the energy.
“After she gets a little rest, we’ll go,” I said as the stranger collected the plates.
“That’s not gonna be possible. Storm’s coming in hard.” The man didn’t sound or look disappointed, but stared at Angie like an appreciative zoo patron. “Besides, if that leg of hers is broken, it will need a splint and clean bandages before we try to move her anywhere. We’ll take care of that in the morning when we’ve got plenty of light.”
I scowled, but he was right about our situation. I could see through the crack that made up the one window that the storm was now a white-out. It would have been a suicide mission to drag Angie out into that, vehicle or not. We would have to stay put until the storm passed.
The host, as I was starting to call him in my head, took some jerky out of a jar and chewed on it as he went around putting out the lamps. Without another word, he shuffled into what passed as the bedroom and closed the curtain, shutting himself away from his guests.
I waited a few minutes in silence, then quietly put another couple logs in the stove and lay next to Angie, cuddling her close.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” I whispered.
But I knew it for the lie it was, and knew that I was promising something that I might not be able to deliver on. We had traded a crazed black bear for a wild bear of a human and who knew what else. The trauma of the attack was quickly being replaced by the sickening feel of imminent and unknown dangers that could strike at any time. On top of that, I could feel in my heart that Angie was fading quickly—and that I was alone out here.
I’d been in a million and one terrible situations in Afghanistan, and I knew how to take care of myself. But I’d never been in those situations on my own. I’d always had at least one or two teammates with me, watching my back. I wasn’t sure how to do this without that sort of support. With a wounded soldier on my hands.
I woke before dawn with the wind still whipping outside the cabin and gave Angie small sips of water from a cup left on the floor nearby. There was a bottle of aspirin as well, and I managed to get Angie to swallow three pills, though she whimpered with pain at every movement. She was still groggy, but had enough presence of mind to ask where she was.
I leaned closer to her and ran my fingers through her hair, trying to offer some form of comfort, while I told her about the bear, and the walk from the truck, and the cabin.
“There’s a guy that lives here; he’s been helping,” I told her, my voice barely audible. I didn’t want the guy in question to hear me. Didn’t even want him to know we were discussing him, honestly.
I still didn’t know whether we could trust him, or if he was going to sell us out at the first opportunity. And I was still well aware that I needed to come up with a plan. One that would get us both out of there in one piece—and on our way to a hospital.
“He’s gruff,” I said. “I’m not sure whose side he’s actually on.”
“His own,” she said hoarsely.
I laughed, unsurprised that she was able to see through the situation so easily, and ran my finger from her temple down to her jaw. Hot to the touch, I noticed, grimacing. When I asked her whether she needed to use the bathroom, she shook her head.
Another bad sign. She’d had enough water that she should have needed to go to the bathroom, and if she didn’t, it was because she was getting dehydrated.
I kissed her forehead and headed for the bathroom myself, turning over a couple of plans in my mind as I tried to figure out how to get her the hell out of there.
Before I got out of the bathroom, three loud knocks sounded at the cabin door. I heard the door open, felt the wind rush in, and heard the low rumble of voices, along with the sound of
several snow boots dragging and clunking on the floor before the door slammed shut. I finished up quickly and peeked out to see three figures in snow-crusted camo surrounding and gazing at Angie like the wise men in a survivalist manger scene. At that moment, our host had emerged from his bedroom and stepped close behind the new arrivals.
One of them murmured, “She’s a beauty.” The remark was followed by low sounds of assent.
My blood froze in my veins—and then came roaring to life. Who the hell were these men, to be talking about my wife this way? What the hell did they think they were doing?
My muscles clenched as I readied myself to go charging into the room—but then I paused for a moment. Our host was shaking his head, and I didn’t think I was out of line to guess that I was about to hear exactly what he was planning.
If we were going to get away, I needed to know what he had up his sleeve. So I clenched my teeth together and waited for him to speak.
“She’s mine, fellas,” the grizzled host growled softly. “This one has some connections in Ellis Woods that will come in handy in the very near future.”
“What do you mean ‘connections’?”
“The mayor.”
“That bastard,” another one said. “I could’ve gutted him when he kicked us outta town like that, if you’d let me.”
“Me too,” said our host. “But all of that is about to change. This girl is gonna give us the leverage we need to get our stockpile back. Then we’ll be able to gear up for the next phase.”
If my teeth hadn’t already been clenched together, I would have snapped them shut at this glimpse into our host and his friends. I held my breath for a moment, trying to get my brain to kick into gear and overrule my anger. Right, they knew who Angie was. Well, I’d told them that myself. That was nothing earth-shattering.
But the fact that they thought they could use her as some sort of leverage point…
The innuendos from last night had been creepy, but this was much worse. If I was right, and if I was jumping to the correct conclusions, it meant that these guys were trouble. Big trouble. Big enough that it sounded like they’d been kicked out of Ellis Woods.
Bitter Cold Apocalypse | Book 1 | Bitter Cold Apocalypse Page 4
