Dead Of Winter (The Rift Book II)

by Robert J. Duperre

  Pulling open the front door a crack, she slipped outside and quick-stepped across the front terrace until she reached the side of the cabin. Once there she heaved the few remaining contents in her stomach onto the newly fallen snow. She stopped to catch her breath, leaned against the cold wooden boards, and then vomited again. Give it a minute, she reasoned once the latest retch passed. Take it easy.

  These unnerving episodes had been going on for well over two weeks now. She felt nauseous, craved food she knew she could never get her mitts on, and was overcome by a constant desire for sensuality that was rebuffed by their cramped quarters. Her mood swings oscillated wider and wider with each passing day. All of this seemed strange yet familiar – not to mention impossible, seeing as the last time she felt it was twenty years earlier. She had been promised that it would never, could never, happen again.

  She argued with herself as to what her course of action should be. Should I tell Josh? she wondered. How about everyone else? Am I too old for this? Is it even right to go along with it? She tried her best to hide her gently curving stomach, and felt more than a little silly about the effort. It had been more than a month since she and Josh consummated in the church balcony. Her thin frame would show an obvious bulge in a matter of weeks.

  Don’t worry about it right now, she rationalized. Hopefully we’ll be on the road again in a couple days. You’ve got all the time in the world after that.

  She huffed, shivered, and then turned to walk back up the porch. A shadowy figure appeared, resting in an old rocker on the other side of the front door. Bright eyes shimmered as they stared at her. Kyra’s heart leapt at the sight.

  “Hey, Kye,” the shadow said.

  Kyra took a cautious step forward. A thankful sigh seeped from her clenched throat. In the chair sat a familiar woman, swaddled in a furry, grime-covered parka.

  “Hi, Jess,” she said, placing her hand on her chest. “You scared me.”

  Jessica Lure grinned.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

  Kyra leaned against the wall beside her. “Oh, it’s probably just me. I’ve been on edge a lot lately.”

  “And sick.”

  “Yep,” said Kyra with a nod, “but don’t you worry about me.” She pointed through the window to their right, where a precious bundle, swathed in a heavy blue fleece blanket, nuzzled in the corner, sleeping with a throng of the other children. “You have more important things to take care of.”

  Jessica smiled wider. “Yes I do.” She reached over and patted Kyra on the stomach. “And pretty soon you will too, huh?”

  Kyra’s jaw dropped open like its hinge had broken.

  “Oh, c’mon,” said Jessica. “Don’t play dumb with me. It’s obvious.”

  “You think Josh knows?” asked Kyra with a frown.

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t think so. Guys aren’t so good at seeing things that’re right in front of them. At least they pretend not to be. And besides, he’s got a lot of other things on his mind right now.”

  “I know. That’s why you can’t say a word, okay?”

  “No problem. But why?”

  “I don’t want to bother him with anything more right now…especially this. So it’s just between us, okay?”

  Jessica offered her an adorable little grin and took hold of her hand. Without another word, the young mother rose and gave her a hug. Kyra returned the embrace. Her body warmed. She loved the feeling of mutual empathy. It was foreign to her. I’m not alone after all, she thought.

  The irony wasn’t lost on her that the one woman who accepted her with no strings attached, who accepted her as a sister, was someone who, in a life now past, had struck a chord of envy within her. In that life she wanted everything Jessica possessed; caring parents, an endearing child, and a father for that child who was, despite not being completely involved in their lives, truly dedicated to his young family. Now here she was, and life had brought everything full circle. She had her man, who treated her with respect and tenderness, and a baby on the way. It was everything she’d ever dreamed of, albeit occurring in circumstances far from ideal.

  The rustle of footsteps sounded, followed by a distant shadow that approached through the cobalt radiance of moonlight. She heard Josh’s voice call out – “I could use some help over here, guys!” – and the quickening of her heart made her realize she had nothing more to lust after.

  We’re all in the same boat now, she thought, and ran towards him through the snow.

  * * *

  The bright sun cast thin beams of brilliant yellow through the frost-covered windows. Josh smiled. It was the first time in God knew how long he’d allowed himself to genuinely do so.

  He gazed with adoration at those around him. Kyra, Colin, Andy and Francis, and little Megan Stoddard sat in a circle, with playing cards spread out before them. All appeared cheerful, with the exception of Colin.

  “What the fuck is this?” he grumbled. “You rig these cards, or what?”

  “What’re you talking about?” asked Josh.

  “We’ve been playing for an hour and you got, what, a hundred points already? That’s bullshit.”

  “Hey,” said Kyra as she nudged him with her elbow. “There’s kids around, you know. Watch your mouth.”

  He grunted. “That’s bullshit, too.”

  “It’s not my fault you suck ass at cards,” Josh added sardonically. “No need to get pissy about it.”

  “Bite me, jerkoff.”

  “Okay boys, play nice.”

  Josh smirked and Colin returned the expression. He looked like a mischievous schoolboy. Frank McKinley approached them and coughed – a violent, hacking burst that sounded like the revving of a failing lawnmower engine. “I’ll show y’all a thing or two,” he said, and lowered his creaky body to the floor.

  “Oh, it’s on now,” laughed Colin.

  Frank gawked at him with tired, bloodshot eyes. “Like I said before, you kids’re daft.”

  They played for quite some time. Even Yvette and Emily joined in. They laughed and cajoled, and for at least a little while Josh forgot about his rumbling stomach, aching joints, and the bone-chilling cold. He felt like he was ten years old again. Even though the place stunk to high heaven and he could trace pictures in the grime that covered his unwashed flesh, the spirit of play lessened the strain of knowing that tomorrow was just around the corner, and with it would come yet another long trek through the vast and dangerous woods to lug what little remained of their resources back to the cabin. It felt good for him to remember what it was like to have no troubles in the world save one: beating Colin at his own game.

  The front door burst open and Luanda Anon strode into the room. Her hair, now dreadlocked after such a long time without bathing, bounced about her head like loose springs. The hullabaloo ceased, as it often did when she was around. She was a tall and thick woman with wide cheekbones and skin the color of coal. She carried herself with such bombast and intelligence that many of their party couldn’t look her in the eye when she spoke. She had worked at the same elementary school as Josh’s mother for more than twenty years, and he’d never felt comfortable around her. Just because their situations had changed didn’t alter that fact.

  Luanda shuffled her feet on the ragged old mat by the door and brushed snow from her boots. She glared at the gathering of fun seekers, her lips twisted into a frown. To Josh she looked like a bull set to charge. Despite the darkness of her complexion, he swore he saw her cheeks flush. He cringed.

  “Laugh it up, people,” she said, pronouncing each word precisely with her deep, forceful voice. “We’re running short on supplies. Someone is going to have to walk back out to the carriages and bring back another batch. Even rationing, we only have enough to last another night with what we have here.”

  When no one responded to her, she rolled her eyes and said, “That’s okay, you all just sit there while I get stuck with all the work.”

  Josh folded his cards and placed them on the ground
. He glanced in Kyra’s direction. She squinted, shrugged her shoulders, and squeezed his hand.

  “What’s the matter, Lu?” asked Yvette Kilty.

  Luanda pivoted on her heels and stared them down, one by one. “I’m tired of this garbage,” she said with a snarl. “I didn’t want to be here from the start.”

  “Coulda fooled me,” snapped Colin. He laughed, and his glasses bounced on the end of his nose. “What did you expect, a trip to Hawaii or some shit?”

  Luanda sneered. “You really are a sad little boy, aren’t you?”

  “Hey, I’m just trying to have fun, lady. Lighten up. You’ll live longer.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I don’t plan on dying anytime soon, boy. But something tells me you won’t make it to thirty.”

  “We’ll see, bitch,” said Colin. “Betcha I can run faster than you.” His goading smirk stretched wider than ever. Josh knew that expression all too well. He didn’t like the direction this little confrontation was about to take.

  “That’s just what you’d do, isn’t it?” said Luanda. “Run away, little rabbit. Run away.”

  Colin slapped the ground with his open palm and stood up. He approached Luanda with balled fists and shouted, “What the fuck’s wrong with you, anyway? You got a fucking screw loose or something?”

  Josh shot to his feet and wedged between the two combatants, holding his arms out, forming a human barricade. “All right, guys,” he said. “Just take it easy.”

  Luanda and Colin looked like they would bash their heads together like a pair of rams whether he stood there or not. Kyra then slipped her arm around Colin’s waist. He submitted to her, though not without lament, and allowed her to lead him to the far corner of the shack. In the stress of the moment Josh realized just how small the place really was.

  He turned back to Luanda. She looked ready to self-combust.

  “I know about the supplies, Mrs. Anon. I was going to head out there with Mr. McKinley tomorrow.”

  “Hrmph,” replied Luanda.

  “What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said with a disgusted grunt. “At least nothing you could ever help me with.”

  “There’s no need for that tone, Mrs. Anon. We’re all friends here.”

  “I’m not so sure about that, honestly.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  She threw her hands up. “We’ve done nothing but what you wanted since we left! We all had other plans, you know. I have a daughter and grandchildren. I want to know that they’re safe. But no, instead of doing something productive, we’re stuck in this dirty little shack. Why is that, exactly?”

  “It’s what we had to do to stay alive.”

  “And how do you know that?”

  “You’re just gonna have to trust me, Mrs. Anon.”

  “Fat chance of that happening.”

  She made her way to the chair Mary Kincaid sat in. She waved her arm and Mary bolted from that chair as if she’d been launched from a howitzer. Luanda grabbed the arms and lowered herself into it. “I’m tired and lonely,” she said. She pointed out the window, where a few of the children were playing under the watchful eye of Jessica Lure. “And I’m not content to stay here and take care of a bunch of brats that I couldn’t care less about.”

  “You don’t mean that,” said Josh. He glanced about, hoping someone would come to his aid. None did.

  “Like hell I don’t,” snapped Luanda. “I didn’t sign up for this. I want out.”

  “No you don’t. C’mon, be real here. You’re not alone. You got us.”

  Luanda laughed. It was a hollow, heartless sound. “Give me a break, Joshua. I have you? I’m not as uncivilized as some in this room, but pardon my French when I say that’s bullshit. You couldn’t care less about me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Sure it is. You have that rude little runt of a friend and Missus Robinson over there. That’s all you really care about. The rest of us are just extra baggage. We’re luggage.”

  Josh jabbed his fists into his hips. Anger started to churn. “That’s enough, Luanda. I’m not gonna have you insulting them, or me, any more. You wanna leave? Fine. There’s the door. Get out. We’ll see how you do on your own. This conversation’s over.”

  He stormed past her in the direction of the front door. He could feel the blood rush into his cheeks. He pressed the latch down and pulled. A rush of chilled air greeted him. It didn’t do anything to stifle the heat that pulsed beneath his collar.

  “That’s right,” said Luanda. “It’s just like I thought. Don’t stand and face the problem like a man. Run away, just like your friend, just like we’ve been doing all along. It’s what you’re best at.”

  He spun around. “What do you want from me?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then leave this alone!”

  “Sorry. I can’t do that.”

  “Jesus fuck, why not?”

  “Because you’re nothing, you know you’re nothing, and yet everyone here listens to you. Why? You got me. The only reason I came along in the first place was because I was scared and it seemed safer than staying put. But you know what? I wish I hadn’t. You don’t have any answers, Joshua. All you have is something your overactive imagination came up with, and I shouldn’t have expected anything different. I’ve known you since you were a boy. You’re a follower. You’ve never thought for yourself. You’re lazy. You wasted every opportunity you’ve ever had. Why should I think that now would be any different? I bet Gail and Don must’ve been so proud of the way you turned out, wherever they are. Where are they now, Joshua?”

  His heart plummeted. He gaped at the angry woman, unable to move. He wanted to curl up and shrivel into nothingness. It astonished him how she could judge him so harshly, especially considering all they’d been through.

  She’s right, you know, his self-doubt declared. You don’t know a thing. Look deep down. Even you don’t know if you’re doing the right by them. Why should they?

  His confidence abandoned him, just like Isabella’s council. He opened his mouth to say something in protest but only a gargling whimper came out. In his despair he yanked the door open the rest of the way and bolted out into the cold. He plunged into the woods, ignoring the pleas of those who loved him, and kicked through the knee-high mounds of snow.

  After a short while his legs went out on him. He collapsed beneath the imaginary shade of a leafless maple tree. His body trembled. Snot ran from his nose. Luanda’s chiding remarks echoed in his head, only now they were the words of everyone he’d abandoned. He began to cry. He couldn’t stop. In a way, he didn’t want to.

  * * *

  Hours went by. The sun began to set, casting black dragons that breathed fire across the horizon. Snow fell again, peppering his vision with white flecks.

  Josh sat with his back pressed against the tree, buried up to his waist in powder. Only his eyelids moved. A sticky miasma of sorrow and doubt held him fast. Once more, all those he had sworn to protect but couldn’t looked down on him in disgust. In his vision they were still alive, from his parents to Sophia to Bobby to Mrs. Flannigan and the thirty seventh graders he could have helped. The fantasy of their existence launched salvos of blame into his already remorse-filled thoughts.

  You could have saved us, they said. Why did you let us down?

  Coarse fabric grazed his cheek. He lifted his eyes. A bulbous caricature of a woman stood over him, dressed in a huge blue overcoat with a furry hood. There was a red scarf wrapped around her neck. Its color matched perfectly the tresses of hair that fanned from beneath the hood.

  “Hey, Kye,” he muttered.

  She didn’t smile as she watched him, but the way her lips curled up on one side and her nose wrinkled like she had to sneeze conveyed that everything was okay without saying a word. He breathed in and the cold seized his lungs. There was a frozen tear on his cheek. He tried to wipe it off. The futility of the act made him giggle. While he hovered in tha
t emotional state, somewhere between laughter and sorrow, she straddled his buried legs and crouched in his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck. She pecked him on the lips, pulled back, and then moved in to kiss him fully, jabbing tongue and all. He moved with her, the heat from her mouth loosening his tightened throat and frayed nerves.

  He placed a frozen hand on her cheek. Their lips parted. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not what you think I am.”

  “Shush, you,” she replied, kissing him on the forehead. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

  “But she’s right. I’m a fake.”

  “No, you’re not. Don’t listen to her. You’ve seen things no one else understands. You know things we don’t. I trust that, even if you don’t. And Luanda’s just scared, like all of us. She just decided to take it out on you.”

  “But why?” he said.

  Kyra smiled. “Because you’re the strong one. You can take the pressure. If nothing else, Luanda understands that. She needed someone to feel her pain, and honestly, Josh, you’re all there is. I mean, who else could? Me? Colin? Emily? I don’t think so. You’re all there is, sweetie. You’re special.”

  He rolled his eyes. “And I go and take off.”

  “Yeah, but no one blames you. We trust you. Take that to heart. Don’t worry about the rest.”

  Josh grinned and pressed his cheek into hers. He could almost hear her thoughts in the beat of her heart, in the thin streams of life that ran just beneath her flesh.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  She playfully bit his upper lip. “I love you, Joshua Benoit,” she replied. “I love you so much.”

  He pulled her in close, trying to hold her tight enough that the physical barrier between them would fade from existence and make them a single entity. In that moment of pleasure, even the lingering doubt that accompanied the realization of how much he needed her waned. As the last rays of dim light vanished behind the trees, he felt a sense of clarity in what had happened.