Killing Frost (After the Shift Book 2)

by Grace Hamilton

  Elm clapped Nathan on the shoulder. “I like you, son. I really do. You look after this family of yours, ya hear? Make sure they make it. We’ll need a lot more like you before this thing is over. Bring your sons up to be like you. They’re the future, not old codgers like me, or even young ones like you!”

  The smile in Elm’s eyes was warming and welcome. It had been a long time since anyone had made Nathan feel like this—not since his daddy had been up and around. There was a lot of him in Elm, and if Elm was anything like Nathan’s father, there would be a stubborn streak a mile wide running through him that would stick him to his decision to stay and trade with the people in Chicago like rivets through iron.

  “Well, if you change your mind, come find me in Casper; there’ll always be a space for you at my table.”

  Elm grinned. “I may well come visit. Been a while since I had a vacation!”

  And with another round of hugs, and a final check of the gear, Nathan’s team led the way along the trail, heading westwards again.

  “Do you think he knew?”

  Nathan was wiping the tears from his face, as Freeson had let him go now. There was no point in holding onto him—he wasn’t going to rush back now. There was nothing he could do to affect things and he knew it.

  The smoke rose into the air three miles away. They’d crested a ridge with the dog teams, and that was when Nathan had heard the first of the explosions blowing apart Elm’s home and trading post.

  Through the binoculars, Nathan had seen the billowing bubble of fire, and heard the clatter of small arms’ fire coming quickly across the frosty air.

  “We gotta go back! We gotta help him!”

  Freeson had put an arm across his chest and been ready to dump him on his backside if needed. “You go back there, they’ll kill you just as soon as look at you. You know that!”

  So, Nathan had sat down on the sled with is head in his hands, listening to Elm’s home and resources being destroyed because he’d made a lieutenant in a petty, stupid little pointless conflict pee his pants.

  Through the trees, they could see green Humvees trundling back up the snowy highway to Chicago. Their destruction complete.

  “Did he know what?” Cyndi asked, holding the baby as she sat down next to Nathan.

  “That they were gonna come for him. Do this to him? Is that why he gave you the book? Because he knew?”

  “I think Elm knew a lot of things, love, so maybe he knew they wouldn’t let what happened lie, or maybe they weren’t the first group of fighters he’d humiliated. I dunno.”

  The tears were still hot and fresh in Nathan’s eyes. “Every step we take forward, every single one, has this at its back. Has this as a consequence. Elm was a good man. One of the best. I am so sick of the best of us getting chewed up and spat out by this crazy world. Sick of it.”

  He rested his head on Cyndi’s shoulder and watched the smoke rise into the morning sky. Watched the future burn.

  They made camp that evening another ten miles on from Elm’s burnt-out house. Nathan had initially wanted to go back and see what they could salvage from Elm’s store, if not see if he’d managed to keep himself alive before the onslaught. But Cyndi and Freeson had vetoed the idea almost immediately.

  If it had indeed been Brett and his crew who’d come back to avenge their humiliation, then they would have known about Nathan. They might have been curious to know who he was and where he might have gone. They may have left lookouts or sentries to keep an eye on the place, but they wouldn’t have left Elm alive. And so they’d driven the dogs on, not taking their usual midday break, and carried on until the teams were panting hard, barking wearily, and steaming in the cold.

  They’d followed a river valley southwest, the maps showing them it was the best route if they were going to stay off the highways. That was the sensible thing to do until they got very many more miles between them and Chicago.

  The others left Nathan to put his family’s tent up alone and in silence. He was grateful for that. He didn’t want to talk. Didn’t know what to say anyway. What could he say that he hadn’t already? He felt like the last bit of stuffing had been knocked out of him.

  It was ironic, he thought, how fragile his optimism had turned out to be in the final analysis. It had drained almost completely from him with the whump of that first explosion echoing across the land, and had been finally eradicated as he’d looked back through the binoculars and had the initial terrible thought that brutal reality had confirmed.

  Once the tent was put up, and Donie and Dave had made the campfire, they sat around the fire in the hollow where they’d made camp, still without anyone knowing how to kick off any conversation.

  The trees around them were black and without foliage, but the hollow was protected from the wind, and a few days without heavy snow had made the place a good place to spend the night. The dogs, tied up, but near enough to the fire to gain some of its warmth, were glad of the rest and the food.

  Lucy and Freeson had gone out to hunt, but had returned with nothing, so they’d been sustained with salted beef and warm tea. They still had plenty of supplies, and wouldn’t go hungry for many days yet, and Lucy and Free would catch something tomorrow.

  In the end, it was Tony who broke the silence around the crackling fire as full dark came over them and smoke rose up through the trees, hanging around the frosted branches like wreaths. “Don’t worry, Dad. It’s gonna be okay. Mom and I and Brandon know you’re sad, but I reckon you’ll feel better in time. It’s like me and Syd and Saber. I’m getting over it. Slowly, but I am.” Tony finished up by squeezing Nathan’s arm, setting his chin and nodding wisely.

  Tony’s words sucked all the sound out of the hollow. All eyes were on him. Cyndi’s were full of tears, Dave was smiling broadly, and even Lucy, who could be a cynical so-and-so at times, had a melted expression and a crooked grin that made her even more attractive. She put her head on Freeson’s shoulder.

  Nathan sucked in a breath and looked at his boy, finding the first words in his mouth for many hours. “Thank you, son. You’re absolutely right. It’s all going to be okay.”

  He took the boy’s hand and pressed it against his own heart, and then leaned in and touched his forehead against his son’s, breathing in the aroma of his boy and the smell of the fire. No one else in the circle, even Cyndi, could have made Nathan feel as okay as Tony had in that moment. Elm was right—Tony and Brandon were the future now. It hadn’t died in the trading post with the Wolf of the Elm; it had been transferred, instilled… a seed planted. A tree to be grown.

  Nathan slept well that night. Before Tony had comforted him, he hadn’t imagined he would sleep at all. But he did, soundly and without dreams. Even Brandon slept right through, snuggled with Cyndi and Tony, Nathan’s arm across the three of them in the tent, and when the morning came, the sun warming the side of the tent with yellow light, it felt like a thaw was coming.

  Not in the land, but in Nathan.

  Yes, Elm was lost to them as a man, but the ledger meant that his knowledge would live on, and Nathan and his family would have to make sure they played the fullest part in disseminating it that they could.

  19

  They made good progress over the next two weeks, putting nearly three hundred miles between them, Chicago, and the memory of Elm.

  The bite of that memory replaced the shameful feelings Nathan had about Syd, and he came around to the idea that he might always need something to worry about.

  It wasn’t that his optimism came back in the same way it had before, but the tempering regrets he had stopped it from being unrealistic. In the past, Cyndi had always been the practical and pragmatic one, but now Nathan felt that his experiences were drawing him in that direction, as well.

  The days were still lengthening, which allowed them to travel longer before twilight and feel like they were making better progress. Dave estimated that they were just over a third of the way to Casper, somewhere in the middle of Iowa and some ways
south of De Moines They also encountered, but didn’t engage with unless they had to, more people. They saw cars moving along roads, and even passed over farmland where someone was trying to raise cattle. The beasts were thin and rangy, but at least someone was trying. The further west they got, the more activity they saw, but this also meant that some dangers were ever more present.

  On a supply hunt one morning, they found a family in a farmhouse who had only recently been killed. A mother, father, and daughter, all shot through the head, their house ransacked. There was no one around, no one to tell, and it wasn’t like they could call 911. So Nathan, Dave, and Freeson burned the bodies in a pyre while Cyndi said a few words. Whatever useful things had been in the farmhouse had been looted at the time of the killings. But even if they hadn’t, Nathan wouldn’t have felt right about taking things and loading them up while bodies smoked and charred.

  It was a maudlin experience and a stark reminder that things were far from normal, even out here as they traveled westward. The people they did see after that were moving quickly in their cars along the snowy roads, and no one who saw the dog teams came close to wanting to make contact.

  In many ways, Nathan was grateful for that, too. You couldn’t tell someone’s motives ahead of time in any random meeting situation, and perhaps it was best—until Casper at least—that they kept to themselves.

  The hunting was poor, though, and their supplies were dwindling. They’d have to fetch up at a farm or town sometime soon, Nathan figured, and see what they could trade—all they really had was Nathan and Freeson’s ability to fix machinery, Cyndi’s health advice or first aid, and information from Dave and Donie’s occasional success with the uplink to the satellite, but all of that had to be better than nothing.

  The land was wide open, the hills flat, and the snow was still deep, so the sleds moved quickly, but Nathan knew that the further west they traveled, the chances of a real thaw from arctic conditions to tundra would mean they’d eventually need to find some way of traveling without the dogs. A truck or bus would need fuel, though, and that was certainly in short supply. What they needed was horses and a wagon.

  “Shall we get you a six-gallon hat and spurs, too?” Cyndi joshed one night at camp as Nathan talked them through his thoughts.

  “Well, only if you’re running a clean house with plenty of redeye.”

  “I’ll poke you in your eye if you’re not careful and that’ll make it red.” Cyndi laughed and Nathan kissed the end of her nose. The last two weeks had been hard, watching yet another iteration of the apocalypse unfold around them. People were better able to make a living in the less harsh conditions, but because of still marauding scavengers, there was a sense that people had become more paranoid, more unwilling to engage with those who might want to trade with them. Which was why it was a surprise the next day when they came across a sign nailed to a tree far from any road. It had been put there to attract exactly the kind of travelers that Nathan and his crew were—those staying off the roads, moving quickly along the valley, and looking for a welcome rest or a permanent home.

  EVERYONE WELCOME. COME ONE COME ALL. SPACES STILL AVAILABLE. WE NEED YOU. YOU NEED US. FOLLOW THE TRAIL AND COME SEE FOR YOURSELF.

  The sign was a bit weathered, but the paint was still bright. Underneath it was an arrow pointing away from the iced river to a path, snowed over but recognizable between the skeletons of scrubby bushes. The trail was just wide enough for the dogs, but Nathan felt wary of taking the sign at face value.

  “Not everyone out here is going to be a wolf. Some of them may be spiders. This might just be an enticing web, and then there’ll be something nasty waiting to run out and eat us if we step into it.”

  Dave came over with his flipped open laptop, fully trickle charged with the solar panels on his sled. “Missile silo. Old Atlas Nuclear Bomb launching site.” He pointed at the screen where he’d called up his stored, offline cop-maps that he’d hacked last year, many of which had been proving invaluable. The maps still got real-time satellite updates—when they could get uplinks—since the NASA and commercial GPS systems were still working after a fashion. They hadn’t been able to cope too well with the shift in the Earth’s crust, but the images they sent out on the automated systems which were still working helped users get a sense of how catastrophic the world’s problems were now. Now, Dave used his thumb and index finger to zoom in. Nathan saw the raised bunkers, all of them covered in snow, but with wide, triangular, concrete entrance ways.

  “Why would they be calling people to a missile silo?”

  “Because they built apartments in them,” Lucy answered, having come over with Freeson to look at the screen. “I have two. One in the east; one in the west. I don’t think this is one of mine, although I didn’t take a lot of notice to be fair. I mean, who does?”

  Nathan looked at Lucy like she’d just spat in his coffee. “Who’s building apartments in missile silos?”

  “The very rich, darling. I have a one whole-floor apartment in one with 1,800 square feet of living space. I could just about cope with that—they go for two million dollars a unit, give or take.”

  “Give or take.”

  “Yes, well, there was some tax unpleasantness, but my accountants kept my exposure low. The other apartment cost four-point-five million and is three times the size. Five years of food, well selected neighbors, ten floors of other apartments; there’s even, I’m told, a store, a cinema, and a swimming pool. Survive the apocalypse in style, I say.” Lucy smiled as if she was telling them the most normal and well-known information of all time.

  Nathan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You have, not one of these places, but two, and you didn’t think to tell us?”

  “Well, no, you seemed so intent on getting to Detroit, and now Casper, and anyway, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t let you in. They’d probably shoot us all if we got too close, the way we’re dressed now. Anyhow, it’s possible I lost them in the last divorce. I might not even have access myself now.”

  Nathan shook his head. “I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it.”

  “Welcome to how the other half lives. I reckon if they’re asking for people to join them, perhaps they’re not full-up yet, or perhaps they’re particular about who they invite in. I’d say this sign would bring them candidates aplenty, but if it’s still up, and it’s been here a while, then they’ve not let everyone inside at all. Shall we pay them a visit and find out? Maybe they’ll welcome us with open arms?”

  They were met at the bunker door by a man and two women who were dressed in unisex blue boiler suits. The man was a dumpy fifty-year-old with a completely bald head, and he came forward with two plump women with blonde hair coiffured to within an inch of its life and laser smiles.

  The man introduced himself as Strickland Grange, and the women as Michaela and Pamela Grange. The women just smiled and seemed happy to let Strickland handle the introductions. Strickland didn’t go into detail about the women at all, either. They all shared the same surname, and that could mean they were siblings or all married to each other. It wasn’t clear, and Nathan didn’t really want to dig into that just yet, as just the thought of them not being siblings made him feel queasy, especially when he looked at Strickland’s fleshy features.

  “We saw you approaching on our system and came out to meet you. You’ll see we’re unarmed, and I’d thank you to, if not put down, please make your weapons safe.”

  Freeson, Cyndi, and Lucy complied.

  “We are a peaceful community here at Calgary and we absolutely do not allow weapons inside.”

  “We don’t know if we want to come inside yet,” Donie said with a raised eyebrow and a jutted chin. Dave was tapping furiously at the laptop on his knees. The satellite uplink station stood open on its stand next to him on the sled. He’d been setting up since the moment Strickland and the women had appeared from the armored door of the bunker.

  “That is, of course, your prerogative, young lady. Let it
be known you would all be welcome to meet with us and our management committee, to look at the suitability of any of you to stay. We are not an entirely closed community, you understand, but we are always on the lookout for the right kind of people to join us.”

  Nathan stepped back into Strickland’s eyeline, and Strickland smiled beatifically, waiting for Nathan to speak. “And who are the right kind of people?”

  “Shall we go in and find out?” was all Strickland would answer. “If you leave your guns and equipment here, we can arrange to have it brought in later if you decide to stay.”

  Nathan and the others looked at each other with questioning eyes—trust was in short supply these days. In the end, it was Cyndi shrugging, nodding, and putting down her AK-47 that transmitted acceptance.

  “It’s better to travel hopefully I reckon. Let’s go in and see what’s what,” she said as Strickland smiled some more.

  They left the dogs tied up with their sleds and their guns just inside the bunker entrance, but behind the blast door through which Strickland and the others had emerged.

  “Your dogs, supplies, and weapons will be entirely safe while you come down to meet everyone, and I’ll send some of my people to tend to the dogs—we have food and water aplenty for them. More than we know what to do with, really, and we are entirely sanguine about sharing.”

  Nathan left all of his weapons on his sled but kept the knife in his belt. He felt sure Freeson would have kept something about his person, too, knowing the gruff mechanic, and Lucy’s purse might still conceal a snub-nosed pistol.

  The concealed weapons lasted five minutes on their persons as they followed Strickland down the corridor leading down into the bunker. Some yards before they reached the first internal blast door, there were men dressed in similar boiler suits operating airport-style security systems and a body scanner. They took Nathan’s knife, Freeson’s pistol from the back of his belt, the colt from Lucy’s purse, and the SIG-Sauer Cyndi had taped to the underside of Brandon’s cradleboard.