Danielle Kidnapped: A Novel of Survival in the Coming Ice Age

by John Silveira

  “Why’d the states all announce they’re pulling out on the same day?” Raymond asked.

  To LaCroix, the answer was a no-brainer and he was going to say something insulting to Raymond. But, when he looked back again, he could see Raymond really wanted to know. “You must realize that they didn’t decide to secede just this morning. They must have been in touch with each other for quite some time. They just picked this as the time to announce it. I’ll lay odds they won’t be the only ones. ‘The South shall rise again,’” he added with a mock southern accent and chuckled.

  “Face it: neither Washington nor the northern states, even Oregon, want the warm states to get out. But the writing’s on the wall and, unless they get out, they’re going to be drained of their resources until they’re as bad off as the Dakotas. Pulling out all at once, they’re presenting a united front so if Washington or the rest of the states decide to make threats…”

  “What about us? What about Oregon?” Raymond interrupted.

  “Nothing, yet. There isn’t much of a government left in Salem. The legislature only convened for a week this year. And I don’t think the governor’s even in the state anymore. According to rumors on the radio, he’s somewhere down south.”

  There was another long silence, and LaCroix changed the subject. “If we can’t go after that bastard, today,” Raymond knew exactly who LaCroix meant, “at least we can have some proper funerals. Right?”

  Raymond didn’t have to say anything.

  LaCroix continued, “I feel as though this guy’s a local; someone we’ve just overlooked.”

  “The book cover we found…”

  “I keep looking at it,” LaCroix said. He picked the two halves of the book cover up off his desk and waved them at Raymond before he dropped them back onto the desk. “It’s one more piece to the puzzle of who he might be. I had Goodman get me all the phone books he could find on the compound and I’ve been looking for the name Amaral so we might be able to narrow our search. I’ve found three with addresses. They’re places to start looking.”

  There was a staticky voice on the radio.

  “What was that?” Raymond asked.

  LaCroix listened to the radio intently. “Arizona announced secession about fifteen minutes ago,” he said.

  The voice suddenly came in clearer. “…unanimous vote of the legislature, joining California, Texas, Louisiana, and Florida in a bid to leave the Union. As of nine o’clock Eastern Time, there still has been no response from Washington. As with the earlier announcements of secession, the governor of Arizona has invited Federal troops within the state…” And the transmission broke up, again.

  “Do you really think the military is going to join the states?”

  “We’ll wait and see. But what other choices do they have? I imagine Washington is all but dead. Not only that, but Florida and California announced they’ve called their Guard units back in saying they’re removing them from Federal control. And they’ve had the state police in both states close off their borders—their northern borders, of course.”

  “Like Mexico has,” Raymond said.

  “Yeah. Everyone’s gonna hunker down and take care of their own…” LaCroix said.

  “Just like we are,” Raymond said.

  “Just like us,” LaCroix averred. “But I don’t think the California border up here is going to be closed. They’ll cut it off further south. The I-15 from Vegas was closed a week ago and US 50, between Tahoe and Sacramento, was closed, too. There was a shootout at a place called Pollock Pines, somewhere on the 50, where it leads out to Lake Tahoe. The CHP intercepted a big convoy coming from Nevada. A lot of people are dead. The guys coming in were well-armed and they broke through. I don’t know how far they’re going to make it. If they penetrate far enough into the state, they’ll never find ’em.”

  “Jesus,” Raymond exclaimed.

  “My guess is,” LaCroix continued, “they’re going to close the 101 out there, soon, but probably at the Golden Gate Bridge. They’ll close the I-5 at the Vietnam Veterans Memorial Bridge just north of Sacramento. And any other roads coming from the north will be closed. But, wherever possible, bridges will be the key. They’ll be the easiest places for the authorities to defend and keep people out. They may even drop some of the bridges.”

  “Then we’re on our own, now.” Raymond said.

  “We’ve been on our own for three years. We just never realized or admitted it until now.”

  “Then there’s no law and order either,” Raymond said.

  LaCroix looked back at him again. “Yeah, there’s still law and order. I’m the ‘law and order’ here…well, me and you boys.”

  Raymond nodded.

  There was more staticky talk on the radio.

  “What was that?” Raymond asked.

  LaCroix shook his head. “I missed it, too.

  “I’m going to ask you to do me a favor,” LaCroix continued. “I want you to make sure the graves are clear of snow—inside and all around them. I know it’s still coming down, but get them as clear as you can. No one’s going to want to see caskets lowered into the ground when they’re filling up with snow. Make ’em neat and make ’em pretty.”

  “Sure,” Raymond said and turned to leave.

  “One other thing.”

  Raymond hesitated.

  “Don’t say anything about the states seceding. Let me announce it at the meeting, after the funerals.”

  Raymond nodded.

  But the word was already spreading around the compound. The United States was ceasing to exist.

  Louis LaCroix wasn’t the only one with a radio.

  Chapter 13

  August 29

  Danielle woke to a cloud-laden sky and snow was beginning to fall. The man was not in the burrow with her.

  Neither was Whoops.

  She sprung out of the burrow and screamed, “Whoops! Oh, my God, nooo! Whoops!”

  Just what she’d feared: He’d taken her sister; he’d taken her baby. She fell on her knees in the snow. “I’m going to kill him,” she whispered. “I’ll kill that motherfucker,” and began lowing like a cow, again. She rose to her feet frantically trying to see which ski tracks left their camp. By now, he’d be so far away…but she’d find him…she’d follow him…

  “What’s wrong?”

  She jumped.

  On his skis, about fifteen feet from her, was the man in white; the baby cradled in one arm.

  “Where did you take Whoops?”

  “Who?”

  She ran to him and grabbed her sister out of his hands.

  “What are you doing with her?” she screamed.

  “You needed sleep.”

  “Fuck you,” she yelled then lunged and with her right hand she clawed his face.

  He slid back as best he could, but cross-country skis don’t like to slide backwards and as she stepped up to him she tripped on his skis and fell into the snow on her sister which both scared her and made her madder. “Don’t take her again, ever,” she screamed. “You keep your filthy hands off her. I…will…kill…you…if…you…ever touch her again! DO YOU HEAR ME?”

  He turned and skied away from her rubbing his face, amazed to see blood.

  “She ate,” he said without looking at her. “And there’s meat on the spit if you’re hungry.”

  She didn’t care. She turned and sat down near the fire and hugged Whoops in her arms and cried and shook so violently she was shaking Whoops, who looked at her sister in quiet amazement. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she repeated over and over again.

  The baby was okay, but she couldn’t believe he just took her. She hated him, now.

  He began to break their camp.

  “If you’re not going to eat,” he said, “I’m packing up the rest of the meat.” He spoke in a softer voice, now. The anger he had manifested the day before seemed almost gone. But she didn’t care. She rocked Whoops.

  When she looked up again, he had finished breaking camp and was
standing on the other side of the spit looking at her.

  “I’ll eat,” she whispered. “Just don’t you ever touch her ever again.”

  She reached out and took a branch the meat was skewered on. She didn’t know how he managed to keep finding animals to kill when she hadn’t seen even one.

  “What is this I’m about to eat?” she asked indignantly.

  He didn’t answer.

  She looked around for the dog.

  “He’s running around in the trees,” the man said, as if reading her mind.

  “Where do you keep finding these things?” she asked.

  He didn’t answer that, either.

  She started to calm down.

  She began to eat. It was different. A little greasy, but good. She remembered something she’d once read in a book. It was supposed to be an old French proverb: “The best sauce is a good appetite.” She now knew exactly what it meant.

  She tore off the tiniest piece and brushed it along Whoops’s lips. The baby liked it. She put it in her mouth and the baby swallowed it.

  She ate more of it herself before offering another tiny piece to her sister.

  This time the baby didn’t want it. So, he had fed her.

  She looked at him. He was sitting on a log staring off into the trees. He was the reason they were still alive.

  “I’m sorry,” she said softly.

  She was sure he’d heard her, but he didn’t respond.

  She added, “Whoops is all I’ve got.”

  “Is that her name?”

  She nodded.

  He looked at her blankly. “Then count yourself lucky.” He looked away.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I said count yourself lucky you have her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He didn’t answer.

  The dog came back out of the trees and approached her. He sat down in front of her and intently watched her eat.

  “What’s his name?”

  Again, he didn’t answer.

  “Hello! What’s your dog’s name?”

  The man looked at her.

  “His name?” she asked and pointed to the dog.

  “I told you before, it’s not mine. I don’t know what its name is.”

  “What do you call him?” she finally asked.

  “Stupid.”

  She shook her head in disgust and went back to eating.

  When she looked at the dog again, he was still watching her eat.

  She stopped eating.

  “Stupid,” she said.

  She did a double take when his ears went up.

  “Stupid,” she repeated, and he got off his haunches and started walking toward her.

  “That’s a horrible name,” she whispered to her sister.

  The dog stopped just inches from her, sat, and again watched her eat the meat. She tore a piece off and held it out to him.

  “Don’t feed it,” the man said firmly.

  She stopped for a second, then gave the meat to the dog anyway.

  The man skied over and reached for the meat.

  She held it away. “I’m not done eating,” she said.

  “Give no more to the dog,” he commanded.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she said and went back to eating.

  He skied away.

  The dog stayed with her and watched her.

  “Come ’ere, Stupid,” the man suddenly commanded and the dog reluctantly got up and went to him.

  When she finished eating he said, “Let’s go.”

  But she stayed on the log.

  “Let’s go,” he repeated.

  “Where are we going today?”

  “I’m taking you back to the road. You’ll get a ride, today.”

  She took a deep breath and got up.

  Δ Δ Δ

  He skied ahead as the snowfall picked up. She trudged through the snow behind him.

  Soon, the four of them, Danielle, Zach, Whoops, and the dog were on a rise overlooking 101. They stood there a long time while Zach thought.

  She didn’t say anything, she watched him. It was clear there had been no recent traffic, and there may well not be any more if the snow was too deep, further north.

  “How are your feet?” he suddenly asked.

  “They’re a little numb,” she said and, just as soon as she said it, she wished she hadn’t told him. “They’re fine,” she added.

  The snowfall was getting heavier and that seemed to concern him.

  “Come on,” he said, and turned away from the road. He started skiing back into the trees.

  It took her several moments to realize they weren’t going down to the road.

  “Where are you taking us?”

  He kept moving and was about to disappear into the trees. If she didn’t catch up, he’d be gone. Not knowing what else to do, she followed.

  They trekked through the woods most of the day. At their first stop he let Danielle rest and take care of Whoops while he skied off into the trees with the dog.

  He left a canteen. The water was warm, so she figured he must have kept it close to his body. She drank some because she was dehydrated, but she saved some and gave it to Whoops. Then she changed her diaper.

  Once she finished that, she looked around. They were still alone. She didn’t want to see him again. But, if he didn’t come back, she wasn’t lost. She could follow their tracks back to the road, but where would that lead her?

  “Do you want Sissy to sing you a song?” she asked, and when Whoops smiled she sang her a song. Then she did the pattycake song.

  Whoops was quiet and smiling and watched her big sister intently. Danielle thought she wouldn’t be so happy if she understood their predicament. Her face was pink from the cold, but she liked being carried and liked watching her older sister and hearing her voice. Danielle laid her on her lap and they stared at each other while she sang.

  She wondered about her family, if she’d ever see them again. And, if not, how long would it be before Whoops forgot who they were?

  Finally she said, “He’s a mean man, Whoopsie. He’s another nutcase, just like Hank and Barry. He’s another fucking asshole. I’m glad Barry’s dead. And I promise you, I’ll never let this nut hold you again, ever. That’s my promise. And the first chance I get I’m going to kill him. Then it’ll be just you and me and we can go to southern California.”

  “Here,” he said from behind her and she jumped.

  She turned and looked up in surprise. He was holding out some granola bars. Reaching gingerly she took them. After a few seconds of thought she started to break the granola bar up into small pieces into the cup that came with the canteen. Then she poured in some water and placed the cup near the fire.

  She wondered how much he’d heard. She hoped not much. Both of their lives depended on being with him for a while.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said,” she finally said.

  He didn’t say anything.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated, in case he’d missed it.

  He still didn’t respond.

  “Okay, I’m not sorry.”

  He still said nothing.

  “Which one do you want?” she asked. “I’m sorry, or I’m not sorry?”

  “I don’t want anything from you.” He didn’t say anything else.

  Δ Δ Δ

  After she fed Whoops, they were on the move, again. This time he made frequent stops so Danielle could rest and take care of the baby’s needs. Each time they stopped he made a small fire, melted snow for drinking water, then disappeared into the trees. Almost every time he returned, he had something to eat.

  “Where are you taking us?” she finally asked at one stop.

  “A place you can rest until the snow stops and there’s traffic on the road, again.”

  So, he was still going to take her back to the road. That was good. But she still didn’t like being alone with him. She recalled how Barry was just going to let Whoops die in the snow. M
aybe this man would do the same.

  “Do you think someone’s going to pick me up?” she asked.

  “I hope so,” he said. Contempt had returned to his voice.

  “So, where exactly are you taking us?”

  Silence.

  He was creeping her out. “Where are you taking us?” she screamed.

  He stared at her a long time. Finally, he got up. “Let’s go,” he said and skied away.

  Chapter 14

  August 29

  On the Brady ranch, news of the secessions was greeted with subdued jubilation. The fact that both the Federal and state governments were crumbling was better than a pardon. Not only would past sins not matter, they now had a license to commit whatever mayhem they chose on the 101.

  Hank called a meeting in the kitchen of the Brady ranch house to discuss the changes. The room was filled to overflow with the denizens of the compound and he announced the Federal government was no more. To him, that meant the Army didn’t exist, either.

  Abby sat uncomfortably in her stuffed chair staring at her grandson in the casket before her. His body was pale, almost blue. Though she seemed oblivious to the discussion going on around her, she listened to every word.

  “We’re on our own, now,” Hank said. “We’re gonna have to step it up. We gotta get more stuff off the road out there. It’s no holds barred anymore. We can do anything we want. We can even take the bridges out so people can’t get any further.”

  Several voices chimed in. It was all good news. It changed the collective mood even though the burials were about to begin.

  “No,” Abby suddenly said above the din and, when she spoke, the voices died down and all eyes turned to her.

  Without looking up she said, “The bridge stays. Folks will just try the inland routes, or they’ll come down in bigger convoys than we can handle. We don’t have enough people for that. Wait for the stragglers and the small convoys who try to make it. There’ll still be plenty of them. They’s our bread an’ butter. If they thin out, then we’ll get rid of the bridges.