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

by John Silveira

  Zach turned his palms up and said, “I don’t know who you’re talking about. I didn’t really live here until after the ice age started.”

  Peter continued, “Well, the old codger’s disappeared and we were scavenging through his house and we found eight cases of gin in a root cellar; like the guy was stockpiling it.”

  Zach nodded. “Sorry you got to it first.”

  Peter laughed. “I mention it because we gotta work a trade.”

  “I’ve got uses for gin,” Zach said. “We’ll work something out.”

  “So, how’d you hurt your leg?” Margaret asked Zach.

  “Like I said, it was an accident.”

  “You really should have someone who knows what they’re doing look at it.”

  With her back to the room, Danielle cringed and dropped her spatula. Picking it up, she cleaned it off. She couldn’t help feel that all Margaret’s comments, especially that one, were meant to batter her.

  And they were.

  “It’s okay, now,” he said.

  He could have said again, “Danielle takes care of it,” Danielle thought, but he didn’t. She was going to kill him.

  “Did you hear about Ted Hathaway, his girlfriend, Carla, and their daughter?”

  The Hathaway homestead was about four miles from where Zach and Danielle lived. “Apparently the LaCroixs and Bradys killed them and burned their place down while they were out looking for the Danielle woman.”

  “I went by their place a few months ago,” was all Zach would allow. “I saw what was left. I didn’t realize that that’s what happened to them.”

  “So do you think the glaciers are going to come down to us?” Helen suddenly asked Zach. Danielle looked over her shoulder and saw this woman smiling at Zach with those beautiful green eyes…and her hand had reached out and tapped Zach’s, and he wasn’t pulling it away.

  He smiled back and said, “I don’t know. We’ll just have to watch them.”

  “What do we do if they do?” Peter asked.

  “We’ll all go south; shoot our way into Mexico.”

  The four laughed while Danielle brooded at the stove.

  “Southern California, south of Bakersfield is in a civil war,” Peter said.

  “I’ve been following it on the radio,” Zach said.

  “Everything north of the Bay Area and all of Oregon south of Eugene is now…”

  “Jefferson,” Zach said, as he opened the wine and named the new country that had been formed by secession. “Heard about that, too.”

  Peter paused. “Then you must have heard the stories they’re telling about Danielle.” He wasn’t giving up. “They’re on the radio and all over the CBs. They’re talking about her from Seattle to San Diego and all the way back East. She’s become an inspiration to those trying to stand up to the road pirates and she’s even become an icon to those in the secession movements. As corny as it sounds, they’re calling her a symbol of someone who’ll stand against injustice and stand up for freedom and, lately, there’s plenty of the former and almost none of the latter. She’s become a ‘Joan of Arc’ for Americans.” He kept watching Danielle for a reaction. He noted her motions at the stove were slowing, as if she was listening nervously. He just wanted a clear sign that would confirm or refute his growing suspicions.

  But neither she nor Zach said anything as she returned to the table and put a large plate of pancakes on it.

  Peter wasn’t sure what to make of their silence. “So, what do you think about the Danielle stories?” he asked.

  “Peter, will you lay off?” Margaret asked sharply.

  “No, it’s okay,” Zach said as he poured four glasses of wine. “Here’s what I think,” he said and raised his glass in a toast and said, “Here’s to the state of Jefferson…Cheers.”

  “Can I join in?” Danielle asked with a glass of water in her hand.

  “What do you have in that glass?” Margaret asked.

  “She knows enough not to drink; not while she’s pregnant,” Zach said.

  “It’s good you’ve got her trained,” Margaret said and Danielle wanted to throw the water at her.

  And Helen, in the meantime, sat there looking beautiful.

  After the toasting, the four began to eat while Danielle went back to the stove.

  Turning in her chair, Margaret said, “You know, dear, you have to use a little more heat, these pancakes are heavy.”

  Danielle was stunned and she approached the table to take her plate. “I’m sorry,” she said in a hurt voice.

  “No, no,” Margaret said coldly, “I’ll eat them. Waste not; want not.”

  Danielle realized Margaret had nailed her again.

  Looking around the room, Margaret saw all the photos of Sandra and the children. “It’s nice to see you’re adjusting,” she said to Zach then pointed to the photos.

  When Zach realized what she was referring to, he said, “Danielle put them up. I didn’t.”

  Margaret made no comment about that.

  But more and more, the conversation excluded Danielle.

  And when Peter described “the real Danielle,” he talked about the shirt she wore that read something like: “Fuck off or I’ll kill you ’til you’re dead,” and Danielle froze.

  Peter was watching her intently, now.

  Danielle put the spatula down and crossed the room. He watched her stop at a laundry basket. She picked up a folded black T-shirt. It was the only thing she removed from the basket. She took it into another room. When she returned, she was empty-handed.

  He stared at the door of the room she had gone into. He wanted to see that shirt.

  Back at the stove, Danielle began banging things around and suddenly realized she was playing into Margaret’s hands. Both women were reducing her to the level of “kitchen help.” But she couldn’t help it. With Zach paying so much attention to Helen, she never felt so alone in her life.

  At that moment, Whoops grabbed little Peter’s arm and he cried. Margaret reached out and grabbed Whoops’s shirt and dragged her to her.

  That was it. Danielle grabbed a knife. She wasn’t putting up with this woman’s shit anymore.

  But before she reached the table, Zach reached out and grabbed Margaret’s wrist. “Let go of my baby,” he said. His tone of voice had completely changed, it wasn’t one of friendliness.

  Margaret released Whoops who was looking at the two adults confused.

  “Let them fight their own battles,” Zach said.

  “I don’t like the way she’s grabbing my son,” Margaret retorted angrily.

  “If he can’t fight his own battles with a girl half his size, put a dress on him,” Zach said sharply.

  They all suddenly looked at Danielle. She was standing at the table with the large knife in her hand. She was suddenly awkward and indecisive and she realized even this, too, played into Margaret’s game. She took another step, but toward Zach. “This is the knife you’ve been looking for,” she said softly.

  He hadn’t been looking for a knife. He knew exactly where each and every one of them was. But he suddenly realized why she had it in her hand. He smiled, shook his head at her, and she thought he was going to laugh.

  Instead, he said, “I’m glad you found it. I thought it was lost forever. Thank you.”

  She handed it to him and forced herself to smile.

  “I love you,” he said unexpectedly.

  “I love you, too,” she replied. And now her smile was genuine.

  She went back to the stove.

  Zach didn’t flirt with Helen again.

  Helen no longer flirted with Zach.

  Margaret began to fidget.

  Peter tried to keep the conversation going, but Zach kept breaking out in inappropriate laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” Peter asked.

  “It’s nothing,” Zach said, but he couldn’t look at Danielle. It was completely clear to him, now, why she was reacting as she was. If anything, it made him love her more than ever.<
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  Peter sighed. “It’s late, we should be going,” he finally said. He sensed the visit was over.

  “Before you go, let me load you up,” Zach said and, with that, he kicked the rug back and went down to the cellar. When he returned, he had several boxes so that, when they left, Peter, Margaret, and Helen had plenty to carry besides Peter Junior: Coffee, flour, maple syrup, and some 5.56 ammo.

  “Come back with a sled in a few weeks, and we can complete the deal,” Zach said.

  Peter agreed. He also got Zach to promise he’d make more crystal radios because he had “customers” for them. He promised they’d return for more “stuff” and bring some of the trade items he’d promised Zach and Danielle, and Margaret would come so she could check on Danielle’s pregnancy. No mention was made of Helen returning. In a few months, there might even be a puppy he said.

  And they left.

  Δ Δ Δ

  Peter led the way through the field and, when they entered the forest, he stopped to let his wife and Helen catch up.

  “They were acting so funny every time I mentioned ‘Danielle,’” he said. “Do you think she could be the Danielle everybody’s talking about?”

  “Of course not,” Margaret replied disdainfully.

  “Why not?”

  “I knew right away she’s not.”

  “How?”

  “First of all, she’s not that smart. And when I saw her standing in the doorway with the shotgun, I wasn’t impressed. She didn’t even know she was holding a 12-gauge. Zach had to tell me. And did you look at how big she is? They say the real Danielle killed Hank Brady with her bare hands. That’s the clincher. You met Hank. He was a monster. There’s nothing to that little bitch. I could snap her like a twig. And that woman, Abby Brady, she said the real Danielle used a 12-gauge. What’s she weigh? A hundred-ten pounds knocked up? A 12-gauge shotgun would knock that little tramp on her skinny ass. Furthermore, the Army experts said when the real Danielle blew up the bridge at Pistol River, she had to have used at least five hundred pounds of explosives. The real Danielle could have done it. The real Danielle’s an Amazon. But that little shit couldn’t have gotten that much stuff out there. She’s nothing but a spoiled city girl. She can’t cook, she can’t carry on an intelligent conversation, she can’t even take care of Zach. She’s a…she’s a…” She almost couldn’t say it. Then she did. “She’s a cunt. There, I’ve said it. Okay? Are you happy? If it wasn’t for her pretty face, Zach wouldn’t have a thing to do with her. And she’s not even that pretty.”

  “But her name. And she’s got the baby sister with the funny name. There’s something about her…personally, I think she’s a tough little girl. And when I talked about the shirt Danielle was supposed to have worn, she went right to the laundry basket, took a shirt out of it, and put it in the other room. Did you see her do that?”

  “No. You’re imagining things.”

  He wasn’t dissuaded. “Then, the way they got quiet every time I asked about her past and how she and Zach had met…and did you look around their house? It was the scene of a firefight, Margaret.”

  With her voice rising in anger, Margaret said, “Danielle’s probably not even her real name. All Zach did was go out to the 101 and find himself a young piece of useless pussy like a lot of guys are doing nowadays, like the Bradys did, and even the LaCroixs sometimes did. Don’t you even dare insult the real Danielle and compare this girl to her. Helen’s more like the real Danielle,” she shouted. “This one’s going to wind up hanging herself from the rafters, just like Sandra did. Do you know how many imposters are saying they’re the real Danielle? There are hundreds claiming they’re her. This one’s just another wannabe.”

  “But she wasn’t posing,” Peter said. “And neither she nor Zach ever said she was the real Danielle. In fact, everyone wants to talk about the legend of Danielle, but they’re the first people I’ve met who don’t. Every time I brought her up, they changed the subject, not me. They’re hiding something.”

  Clutching her son, Margaret ignored her husband’s protests and, in a voice now frosted with disdain, she got closer to him and said, “I’m disappointed with Zach. Sandra must be spinning in her grave. Someday, he’s going to realize he’s made a big mistake. He’ll rue the day he missed out on Helen. The real Danielle is a legend, Peter. People are naming their daughters after her. If we have a daughter, I’m naming her Danielle. She’s changed things here on the coast. If this one were the real Danielle, I’d be on my knees before her. We’d all be on our knees. Zach would be on his knees. This little…little…” she groped for the word, “…whore…is nothing but a road slut, and Zach’s choosing her over Helen. I’m sorry we brought Helen out to meet him.”

  “But there’s something about her,” he insisted. He was beginning to get angry.

  Enunciating each word so there’d be no mistaking what she meant she said, “It’s exactly what Zach said twice: Did you hear him? He said her name, the weird name she calls that little rat she’s got: It’s just a coincidence. And now she’s got Zach calling it his; that’s an insult to his own children.

  “Come on,” she said self-righteously to Helen. The conversation was over for her and the two women shoved off on their poles. “Did you see the way she keeps house?” she asked Helen as they skied away.

  Peter looked back from the edge of the forest at the cabin and thought about Margaret’s words. She was right, the real Danielle had done things no man he knew could do. He couldn’t imagine how the girl in Zach’s cabin could have killed Hank Brady without a gun or how she could have blown up the bridge, and no one could have won a shooting duel with Brian Peterson. The real Danielle really was the stuff of legend. And this young girl was small and seemed to be so vulnerable. He saw the way Margaret browbeat her and pushed her around. But there was still something about her…

  He thought about the way she looked when he first saw her standing there in the doorway with the shotgun, defiant and protective. There was nothing small about her then.

  He stared at the cabin and shook his head. “There’s something going on here,” he said to himself. “There’s something going on.”

  But he wasn’t going to solve it today and, with that, he skied off to catch up with the women.

  Δ Δ Δ

  With the cabin quiet again, Zach watched Danielle go to “her” chair. She reached down between the cushion and the arm of the chair and took out the hunting knife. Without realizing he was watching, she returned it to the drawer in the desk. He knew she must have put it there before she’d gone to the door. But he didn’t say anything. And he knew she’d leave it there, under the cushion, forever, were it not for Whoops scampering around.

  “I don’t like her. I don’t like either one of those women,” she said.

  “I don’t know Helen,” he said. “We’ll probably never see her again. But you’ll get used to Margaret.”

  “I don’t like her. She doesn’t like me. And she’s nosy.”

  “I know, she’s officious, obtrusive, impertinent, and meddlesome. But you’ll get to like her once you get to know her. You just have to know and accept her limitations.”

  “With every question she asks, she’s really asking something else, and she acts like people don’t know what she’s doing. And she’s going to do more of it when she comes to check on my baby. Why didn’t you say something when she was prying?” Her voice was rising.

  “What was there to say?”

  “And did you see how they talked? They were excluding me…and they knew just how to do it. And they were treating me like a servant in my own house. She was trying to make me look like an idiot, and…Zach…she succeeded.”

  He thought she was going to cry.

  “I didn’t know there was anything wrong with my pancakes…” she said.

  He cut her off. “No, listen. Basically she’s a good person. But she’s got some faults—major faults. Not everybody’s going to measure up to what you want. We all have faults…
”

  “Speak for yourself,” she said angrily as she slammed things while she cleaned the kitchen.

  “…and you’re going to have to learn to accept them,” he continued. “Nosiness is one of her faults. And you’re going to find out she’s very judgmental, too. But she’s still a good person—and we need the Shorts. However, in spite of her faults, you dealt with her very well.”

  She continued cleaning up the plates and putting things away, banging cupboard doors and slamming down pots and pans as she went.

  “I heard them talking when they arrived,” she said and spun around to face him. “They came here because they wanted that Helen to meet you, didn’t they?”

  “They’re just trying to help. They didn’t know about you until they got here.”

  “And you liked her.”

  He fished for words. “She was nice…”

  “Well, once they saw me, those two shouldn’t have been making it obvious what they were here for and making me feel small in my own house. That hurt me, Zach. That just hurt.” She slammed the skillet down and turned to him. She was trying not to cry but tears started running down her cheeks. “And you saw what Helen looks like, she’s beautiful and you were flirting with her, and I’m all fat and ugly…”

  So, that was what she was afraid of: losing him.

  “You’re not fat, you’re pregnant.”

  “…and you just sat there…Why are you smiling at me? Stop smiling! I hate you smiling when I’m mad.”

  He wanted to say that the people in whose minds she had become a legend would be surprised to find out, not only did she not want that reputation, but that she was still soft and vulnerable and too young and innocent to understand the wiles of two older, more experienced, and manipulative women. But he didn’t. Instead he spoke his second thought: “It’s nice to see you’re jealous—that I mean so much to you. And you’re right, I liked the attention she was paying to me.” He was hoping he wasn’t hanging himself with that admission. “But it was wrong of me. I wasn’t thinking about how it would make you feel. I think you’re just unsure of exactly how much I love you.”