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

by John Silveira

  “It’s nice to meet you, too, Zachary. All Peter and Margaret do is talk about you.”

  Zach couldn’t help but smile himself.

  Margaret kept glancing up at the edge of the field where the graves of Zach’s wife and children were. Peter and Margaret were the first people Zach had come to see when he’d come home and found his children dead, his wife hanging in the living room…and the note. The snow had been cleared away from the wooden headstones and there were wreaths on the markers that made them look fresh and well-kept. Margaret wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or bad.

  Standing there, Zach and Peter talked about the snow, the weather, the state of the country, the secession, jumping from one subject to another in a desultory fashion that made Margaret realize they were avoiding talk about what really mattered: the reason they had brought Helen.

  “Zach,” she interrupted, “We came out because we thought you and Helen should meet. We’ve talked about you so much that she said it would be nice to pay you a visit, so…”

  She stopped in mid-sentence and she, Peter, and Helen looked beyond Zach to the cabin.

  Zach turned to see where their gazes had gone.

  “Who’s the woman?” Margaret asked in a low voice.

  “That’s my wife,” he replied.

  Looking tired and frail, Danielle stood in the doorway with the shotgun. Clutching onto the skirt of her dress, Whoops stood beside her and stared at the strangers.

  “Go over and say hello.” Zach said to Margaret and Helen.

  The two women glanced at each other, then skied to the cabin and, when she reached the front door, Margaret said, “I’m Margaret Short.”

  Danielle recognized the last name. It was the one Zach had put on the map he’d drawn so many months ago.

  “This is Helen Russo,” Margaret continued. “My husband and I are friends of Zach and…we were friends of Sandra’s, too.”

  Still holding the shotgun in her right hand, Danielle stared at the women and unconsciously let her left hand fall and hold her stomach.

  “How far along are you?” Margaret asked.

  Danielle looked down at her stomach. “Six months, we think,” she said in a tired voice.

  “The little girl yours, too?”

  “Yeah…she’s my sister.”

  Little Peter hugged his mother, but he watched Whoops with curiosity.

  “Did he get you from the road?” Margaret asked.

  Danielle didn’t like the way she asked if he’d gotten her “from the road” and asked, “What do you mean by that?”

  Margaret didn’t reply. But she looked toward the graves again and said, “He keeps the graves up well.”

  “I keep the graves up.”

  Margaret looked back at her curiously. “Did you know them?”

  “I know them, now,” Danielle replied.

  “How old are you?” Margaret asked nosily.

  “Why are you asking?” Danielle asked with an edge creeping into her voice. She kept glancing at Helen. She’d overheard part of the conversation when they’d arrived and it was easy for her to guess why they brought this woman.

  Coming up from behind, her husband said, “Because she’s a busybody. Hi, I’m Peter Short and if you promise not to make any jokes about my name, neither will I.”

  It took Danielle a second to get the joke and suddenly she smiled and covered her mouth in embarrassment.

  Margaret, however, didn’t like her husband cutting her off and it showed on her.

  Helen, on the other hand, was looking Danielle over. She’d come here to meet a man and suddenly discovered there was competition from…a girl “from the road.” In the dog-eat-dog world of the new ice age, another woman’s man was fair game if he was any good.

  But Peter was just the opposite of his wife; he was a friendly guy used to defusing the confrontations she created. “How do you like living out here in the woods?” he asked.

  “I love it,” Danielle replied.

  “Who’s the monster?” he asked looking at Whoops.

  Danielle smiled at him for that. “She’s my sister.”

  “What’s her name?” Peter asked.

  “Whoops.”

  “Whoops?” He laughed. “Aw, come on, no one’s really named Whoops. What’s her real name?”

  Danielle smiled at the way he asked the question. “Audrey. But she doesn’t know it.”

  Peter thought a second. “I like Whoops better.”

  “So do we,” Danielle said.

  He looked from Whoops, to Danielle, back to Whoops, and finally back to Danielle. “Yeah, I can see the resemblance, now…except Whoops is pretty.”

  Danielle was startled for a second, then she began to laugh.

  Margaret looked at Peter. “That’s a perfectly horrible thing to say, Peter. Danielle’s beautiful…” And as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished she hadn’t said them. After all, they’d brought Helen here to meet Zach. “But not as pretty as Helen,” she added awkwardly.

  “Whoops…” Peter said thinking about the name.

  “What did you say your name is?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “What is it?”

  “Danielle.”

  Peter’s humor suddenly abandoned him. He looked at Margaret, then at Zach, then back at Danielle.

  “Did you come from the Brady compound?” he asked.

  Danielle didn’t answer. Inside she began to panic. She looked at Zach and the sudden silence became awkward.

  “They say only one girl ever got away,” Peter continued. “They’d raped her then tried to kill her, but she got away and, when they came after her, she killed a bunch of them. Then she came back at ’em and brought them down, along with the LaCroixs. Her name was Danielle. That’s what they say, anyway, and she had a little sister with a funny name, but no one can remember what it is. And you…”

  “It’s just a coincidence,” Zach interrupted almost too quickly.

  Danielle forced a smile at Peter who scrutinized her closely. But Margaret and Helen looked at each other as if trying to decide what to do next.

  Finally, Margaret said, “Hi, Audrey.”

  Whoops ignored her.

  “You should call her by her real name so she knows who she is,” Margaret said accusingly.

  “‘Whoops is just fine,” Zach said.

  Margaret leaned toward Whoops with her son in her arms, to introduce him, and said, “This is Peter, Junior,” but her son recoiled back in his mother’s arms though he kept staring at Whoops intensely.

  “Where’s your family?” Margaret asked.

  “This is my family,” Danielle replied.

  Zach could see Margaret had Danielle on a short fuse and he suddenly asked, “Would you folks like some coffee?”

  “You have coffee?” Peter asked incredulously.

  Margaret didn’t like that the conversation was again diverted from her questions.

  “I keep some stashed,” Zach said, “and, every once in a while, you find some in the abandoned cars on the road.”

  “They say the military left a truck that broke down; had a lot of coffee, cans of beans, sugar, 5.56 ammo, and who knows what else. It was supposed to be going up to Hanford. They left it on the side of the road a few months back, while they went to get a repair crew, and when they returned the next day, most of the stuff that was on the truck…”

  “Don’t know anything about that,” Zach said cutting him off, again. “But I have a few bags stashed.”

  “How much?”

  Zach smiled and said, “Actually, quite a bit.”

  Peter laughed and shook his head. “Maybe we can work a trade,” he said.

  “What have you got?” Zach asked.

  But before he could answer Zach’s question, Peter looked out in the field and said, “Well, look at that.”

  They all turned in the direction Peter was looking and Stupid and the Short’s dog were unabashedly answering nature’s most basic
call near the woodpile.

  “That’s the first dog—and certainly the first female dog—he’s seen since we got him,” Zach said.

  “They aren’t losing any time,” Peter laughed. “It’s amazing what they know how to do without being shown. You get the dog from the road?”

  “Nope,” Zach said in all seriousness, “He got me from the road.”

  The answer didn’t mean anything to Peter. “Not many people would keep a three-legged dog,” he said.

  “He’s only got three legs?” Danielle asked incredulously. “I’d wondered why he walks funny, but Zach wouldn’t tell me.”

  Neither Margaret nor Helen thought that was humorous, but Peter and Zach laughed.

  “Girl’s got a sense of humor,” Peter said. He was getting to like her. “But it’s too late to stop them now. Is he a good dog?”

  “He’s the smartest dog I’ve ever known in my life,” Zach said seriously. “He was a real survivor when he had four on the floor, and losing one hasn’t slowed him down one bit.

  “Once I could get back on skis,” he added, as he patted his bad hip, “he went out with me whenever I hunted or scavenged. He’s got an almost preternatural sense for finding game. And he doesn’t spook it. I couldn’t have fed him if he wasn’t as good as he is. We even expanded the pantry over the winter because of him. He’s carried his weight.”

  “Well, I know you,” Peter laughed, “and if you’re willing to take a three-legged dog with you into the ice age, he’s gotta be good stock.” He laughed again. “You can have the pick of the litter if she takes.”

  “They’re tough to feed,” Zach warned.

  Of course Peter already knew that, but he said, “So I’ve heard. But they’re worth their weight in gold, when they’re good. And he must be good.”

  It was clear to Margaret the men were going to talk about nothing that mattered to her. Finally, she said to Danielle, “I can help you.”

  She nodded toward Danielle’s stomach in a perfunctory manner when Danielle looked at her.

  “We don’t need any help,” Danielle replied. She already didn’t like either of the women.

  But Margaret went on. “I’m a nurse-practitioner,” she said. “I’ve delivered babies. I’ve dealt with prenatal and postnatal problems. I can help you with your pregnancy, if anything comes up.”

  Danielle reiterated, “We don’t need…”

  “Danielle,” Zach said sharply. He looked up at the graves then looked back at her. “We’ll take all the help we can get.”

  Danielle looked at the graves, then at Zach, then Margaret. “I’d appreciate your help,” she said.

  “Maybe this is how you guys can get some coffee,” he said to the Shorts.

  “I can come by every few weeks,” Margaret said to Zach.

  “Are you spotting at all?” she asked Danielle.

  “I did a few weeks ago, but Zach made me rest. I’m okay, now.”

  “Do you know what gauge that is?” she asked nodding toward the shotgun that was still in Danielle’s hands.

  “It’s a 12-gauge,” Zach said.

  Margaret hadn’t wanted the answer from Zach. “Do you know how to use it?” she asked Danielle.

  Danielle again looked at Zach, then back to Margaret. She’d already killed four people with it. But all she said was, “I’m learning.”

  Margaret didn’t hide the skepticism in her voice as she said, “Good. You know, they can be dangerous around children.”

  Danielle realized Margaret was treating her as if she were a little girl and the thought crossed her mind that she’d like to shove the muzzle of the shotgun up the woman’s butt and pull the trigger. But she didn’t say anything. And neither did anyone else for several seconds.

  “So, how come we never met you?” Margaret asked.

  “You were supposed to meet her last fall,” Zach said. “But she wouldn’t go away like I told her to.”

  Margaret looked quizzically at Peter. But Peter was laughing and he asked Zach, “What does that mean?”

  “It means he was trying to get rid of me, but I wouldn’t go,” Danielle said with a slight smile.

  “Some women are just like that,” Zach said knowing, had she not turned back, he’d have died.

  Peter knew something had intentionally been left unsaid. He wanted to know what it was.

  “Come on in,” Danielle finally said and stepped aside. “I’m making pancakes if you’re hungry.”

  “Pancakes? I’m starving,” Peter said. But, as he started up the steps, he paused to observe small holes in the door, punched through the wood. They looked like bullet holes.

  And when they entered the cabin, Zach suddenly realized that somehow, sometime during the winter, the cabin had become Danielle’s territory, and even if no one else had realized it, not a one in the four of them had even asked to go inside while she blocked the doorway. It was an animal thing, a territorial thing, that everyone had subconsciously respected until she invited them in. She not only ruled his heart, she ruled his hearth.

  Once inside, Peter looked at the other side of the door and realized the wood had been splintered, then repaired, incontrovertible evidence, in his mind, that the cabin had been under siege. “What happened to the door?” he asked Zach.

  “It’s always been that way,” Zach replied.

  Peter knew it hadn’t. But something else caught his eye. “Holy cow!” he exclaimed and walked to a table near one of the windows where Zach and Danielle had started some marijuana plants. “Get a load of these, Margaret…Helen. These are going to be good.”

  “They look better then the ones you had last year,” he said to Zach.

  Margaret examined them. “Look at these,” she said to Helen. “Aren’t they beautiful? Zach has a way with growing things, and he uses a lot of it for barter. We’re going to have to trade for some of this when it comes in. I’ve got patients who need it.”

  “Where’d you get the maple syrup?” Peter asked when he spotted it on the table.

  Zach shrugged.

  “They say there was maple syrup on that Army truck, too. Do you know how rare maple syrup is nowadays?”

  “The Army should be more careful with their trucks,” was all Zach would allow.

  Peter laughed and said, “They say a couple of officers got busted for losing the stuff and the guys who were supposed to stay with the truck got discharged. That was a tough break for them because the Army’s where it’s at, if they’ll take you at all, ’cause you know you’ll still get three squares a day; more than the rest of us can count on.

  “So how much of this stuff have you got?”

  “Quite a bit,” Zach replied.

  “Well, you can eat just so many pancakes,” Peter said holding the bottle up and letting the light filter through its amber contents.

  “I can use it to make maple mead and maple wine,” Zach said.

  “You can?”

  “I’ve already got some started. But I’ve still got enough syrup to use for bartering. Got a lot of flour, too, and it won’t keep as well as the whole wheat kernels I’ve got stored, so we can work some deals there, too.”

  “Did you hear that?” Peter asked Margaret without looking at her.

  “I heard it,” she replied.

  As he looked around the cabin, Peter realized there were other holes in the walls and even some of the fixtures. A real firefight had happened here, and Zach and Danielle weren’t saying anything. But Danielle looked too small to be…“But, you know,” he said, and looked at Danielle as he changed the subject, again, “that girl that brought the Bradys and LaCroixs down, her name was Danielle and she had a little sister…”

  “Just a coincidence,” Zach repeated.

  “She’s too young,” Margaret said.

  “Too young for what?” Danielle asked. She knew she was being put down by Margaret, but she didn’t know what to do about it.

  Margaret didn’t answer. But by eliciting this reaction from Danielle,
she’d made her point.

  “She’s all that kept me alive in the months after…” Zach began, then paused, “…my accident. If she hadn’t been here, I’d be a goner by now. In fact, Stupid wouldn’t be alive, either.”

  “Who’s Stupid?” Margaret asked.

  “The dog.”

  “But,” Margaret protested, “you said he was a good dog.”

  “Margaret,” Peter said, “it’s a name…like Whoops. If Zach kept him through the winter, he’s gotta be good.”

  Once again, Margaret didn’t like Peter stepping on what she had to say. She set little Peter down on the floor and, though he was a year older and much bigger than she, Whoops circled him like a shark and he held onto his mother’s leg like a drowning man clutching flotsam watching Whoops with undisguised alarm in his eyes.

  Peter looked at Danielle again, then he looked Zach dead in the eye and asked, “Got any idea who blew up the bridge that crosses the Pistol River?”

  When neither Zach nor Danielle responded, another long, awkward silence ensued. Danielle held her breath as she watched Zach. Peter was watching it all.

  “Danielle…” Zach finally said, and she thought she was going to freak out. “…and I heard about it, too, on the radio. And I say good riddance to both the Bradys and the LaCroixs.”

  “I’ll second that,” Peter said.

  Danielle suddenly stepped closer to Zach and whispered into his ear.

  “The lady of the house has just informed me that I’m not being a good host. Would either of you like a glass of wine while we talk?”

  Helen nodded and Peter clapped his hands, “Oh, one of Zachary Amaral’s famous homemade wines,” he said.

  “You’re not having any wine,” Margaret said to Danielle.

  Danielle looked to Zach for support, but he seemed oblivious. He was more intent of basking in the attention from his guests, especially Helen’s. But she was reaching the end of her rope with Margaret. However, all she said was, “Why don’t all of you sit down at the table and relax,” and she went to the stove.

  As they sat, Peter said, “Your wine reminds me of something I want to tell you about: Me and Dennis Brown were out scavenging a few weeks ago. Do you remember there was a hermit living way up river, on the south bank of the Rogue—Jerrys Flat Road?”