Dead States | Year Zero | Nebraska

by Marty Brockschmidt

  Gael turned dejectedly and began moving stiffly to the car.

  “Gael, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound so harsh. I just need to give you a crash course in winter survival.” Mac said sympathetically.

  Gael brightened a bit. “Si. I will be a good student.”

  Gael returned quicker than Mac had expected, silently handed Mac a canteen and began shoveling again. As Gael warmed up from exertion, he peeled off layers, to keep from breaking into a sweat. They worked steadily for another hour and reached the midpoint of the drift.

  Mac stretched, “Gael, the wind is beginning to pick up. Would you mind pulling the car ahead, in case the drift fills in again.”

  Gael smiled realizing the trust Mac was showing. One mistake and the car could slide out of the trench they had dug and become stuck again. As soon as Gael pulled up close, Mac stuck his shovel into the snow and suggested they take a break.

  As they leaned against the car, out of the wind, Mac remarked. “We have about an hour or so of daylight left. We won't finish this until well after dark. The temperature will drop with the sun and with this wind it will be uncomfortable. There is no shame in taking a break and thawing out.”

  Gael patted Mac on the shoulder. “Goes for you too, my friend.”

  Once it got dark Mac started the car and turned on the headlights to illuminate them while they worked. A couple hours later and they were down to about twenty yards to go. Mac called a break and they both sat in the car, enjoying the warmth. Feeling to comfortable Mac suggested they get back at it.

  They had been back to work only a short while, when an animal noise got Mac's attention. “Gael did you hear that?”

  “Si, it sounded like dog's barking.” Gael answered.

  “That's what I thought. There it is again, I think they are getting closer.” Mac responded.

  “Should there be concern?” Gael asked.

  Mac gave a rueful chuckle. “I've seen dogs gone feral and feeding on the dead. They are used to being around people and have learned to see us as their next meal. Go ahead, grab a rifle and keep a look out.”

  Mac loosened his pistol in it's holster and went back to shoveling. Gael settled back against the front of the car, a rifle held at the ready in the crook of his arm. Only about five minutes had passed when the pack could be heard crunching through the snow behind the car. Mac looked beyond the rear of the car and could see more than a dozen pair of eyes, glowing red from the tail lights and moving up fast.

  The pack split in two as it reached the rear of the trailer, in a single minded goal to herd their prey. Two dogs veered in towards Mac, snarling and snapping their jaws. The dog in the lead, a large shepherd, leapt high and Mac swung his shovel with one hand, catching the dog full in the face. The second, also a shepherd, stayed low. Mac fired at the second dog missing it, but still causing it to change course. Gael had more luck, when he fired at one of the dogs, as it moved into the beam of their headlights. Gael was rewarded with a yelp and could see the dog limping off.

  Mac fired wildly at the dogs to keep them at bay as he back stepped quickly to the car. “Screw this, there's to many of them. They'll pick us off out in the open.”

  Gael climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door, just as a dog slammed head first into it. Another dog leapt onto the hood, as Mac seated himself into the car. The rest of the pack circled the car, barking and snarling.

  Mac shut off the car and turned off the lights. “Maybe they'll get bored and move on.”

  Another shepherd hopped onto the hood, the two dogs laid down, their heads resting on their front paws and stared at the two men. “I think they are more patient than we are.”

  Mac laughed causing the dogs to perk up. “You could be right. Looks like we'll be braving a run for it. The snow isn't near as deep at this end and it is dipping well below freezing, that snow should harden. As long as these pups are content to wait, we'll see if we can't drive out at dawn.”

  Gael answered quietly. “Never thought I would want it to get colder, but if it keeps me from having to get out and push.”

  Mac chuckled. “I promise it won't come to that. Now, If you're up to it, I'll let you take first watch.”

  When the first red glow of dawn peeked over the horizon, Mac started the car, causing Gael to stir. The dogs surrounding the car immediately reacted, jumping to their feet and began to bark. Mac let the motor warm, before stressing it to make the run out. The dog that had first leapt on the hood, decided to charge Mac's side of the car. It rested it's paws on the door and stood looking at Mac, growling fiercely and frothing at the mouth.

  Mac turned the fan up and Gael stretched his hands out to the vent. “Ahh, my friend I have missed you.”

  Mac flipped off the dog at the window, then turned to Gael. “Hang on this is probably going to get bumpy.”

  They had about a thirty foot cleared stretch before they hit the remainder of the drift. Mac got up as much speed as he could and made it half way into the drift, before getting bogged down. The dogs rapidly surrounded the car again as Mac rocked the car back and forth. Eventually the chains found purchase and he backed up twenty feet and then sped forward again, only to get bogged down fifteen feet from the end of the drift.

  “Next time for sure Gael.” Mac expressed as he began rocking the car again.

  Once again Mac backed up and got some running room. The Challenger shot into the remainder of the drift and inch by inch, foot by foot it crept forward. The dogs were running around, charging the car, but Mac refused to be distracted. Even with the snow chains and posi-traction the tires kept breaking loose. The front tires cleared the drift, causing Mac to back off on the gas, to make sure the rear tires weren't spinning out of control when they reached the pavement. In a last effort to keep their meal from escaping a dog again leapt onto the hood.

  With the dogs giving chase, Mac accelerated away in an attempt to put as much distance between them and the dogs. A little jerk of the wheel caused the dog on the hood to tumble off. Mac pushed the speed to quickly outrun the dogs. The dogs responded by furiously giving chase. Over the next few miles the dogs fell further and further behind. Mac did not bring their speed down until the dogs were no longer visible.

  Gael looked behind. “They will probably follow for a while, best not to get stuck again.”

  As they continued to move northward the amount of snow on the ground increased, but the temperatures were low enough that less ice was present. Whatever the reason, they were able to make steady progress forward, without having to get out and clear the way. They reached the outskirts of Topeka by mid-afternoon. Mac stuck to his game plan of avoiding larger cities and circled around the city limits of Topeka.

  “If our luck holds for a little longer Gael, we'll be across that bridge and in St. Joseph by early morning. We'll get us a couple of sleds and be off to Hannibal Mo.” Mac expressed.

  They parked for the night on 59, a little less than twenty miles from the bridge crossing the Missouri river. Around midnight a light snow started to fall and picked up in intensity as dawn approached. When Mac started up the car that morning, a good three inches of fresh snow had accumulated and more was continuing to fall.

  Gael remained supportive. “At least we are close, if we must walk.”

  “Let's see how far this buggy will take us. I'm not throwin in the towel yet.” Mac stated.

  In the course of the next hour, they had barely made ten miles of headway. Spying a farmhouse and barn, Mac turned off and headed up the drive. It took thirty minutes to make the short drive to the barn and store the car inside. It took another hour to load their sleds. They each put on their snowshoes, attached the sleds to their harness and headed back to the road.

  “Mick and I, put a lot of ourselves into that car. I couldn't just leave it at the side of the road.” Mac confessed.

  “It would be my honor to come back with you and your friend to retrieve it.” Gael said solemnly.

  Slightly over two hours late
r, they were standing at the congested entrance of the Amelia Earhart bridge. “Jesus, this tells a story. You can damn near hear the horns honking and the angry shouts.” Mac commented.

  Gael shook his head sadly. “Then the dead showed up. All these people trapped.”

  Threading their way onto the bridge the two men made their way to the other side. Once they passed the approach to the bridge the cars were generally in their lanes, giving them an easier path. As a bonus the cars blocked some of the wind. Near the middle of the bridge there were dozens of dead frozen into place, covered with snow. Giving them the appearance of horrific snow sculptures.

  “I doubt they can move, but we will stay as far away from them as we can.” Mac cautioned.

  They weaved their way through, cautiously keeping an eye on any of the dead they had to squeeze past. Mac, leading the way, passed the last of the dead and began picking up his pace to get off the bridge. Gael, began moving faster in response and got his sled caught on the ankle of the final frozen creature. Gael jerked hard against his harness to get his sled moving, causing the creature topple. The body hit the bridge with a thud, causing fingers and limbs to shatter off and its eyes to sink back in their sockets.

  Past the bridge and free of the congestion at the exit, the men stopped for a cold lunch and a short rest. Mac began to break down their next step. “We still have nearly twenty miles to go, just to get to St. Joseph. Then we need to find a snowmobile dealer.”

  “I see. Any reason not to continue on after dark?” Gael asked.

  “I'd like to at least get to St. Joseph, before we stop. It is a lot of hard walking though and if the snow picks up...” Mac trailed off, his need to get to the Michigan group at odds against the reality of their situation.

  Gael clasped Mac's shoulder. “We will put one foot in front of the other, until we cannot.”

  A few hours later Mac and Gael were seated under the sign that read, 'St. Joseph 8 Miles', eating a freeze dried meal, re-hydrated with boiled snow. With the snow that had been falling all day, coming down harder, Mac finished his meal and put away their cook stove and pans. For a moment Mac's hand hovered over the tent, then he pushed it aside and pulled out a length of rope. Mac handed one end to Gael to tie around his waist, while Mac tied the other end around his own waist.

  Trudging on as the sun dropped, the darkness adding to the disorientation caused by the near white out conditions. Mac frequently checked his compass to make sure they were continuing in the proper direction. With almost the complete lack of landmarks, it was next to impossible to stay on the road. Several times they had to make corrections as it was obvious they had strayed from the road.

  With his legs burning, with every step and the need for sleep becoming overwhelming, Mac stopped. “We'll camp here. Either we are close or I've led us miles in the wrong direction.”

  They both slept past dawn, Gael was the first to wake. The need to pee, overriding the exhaustion from the prior day's exertion. Gael slipped on his coat and boots, exited the tent and moved quickly to a responsible distance from their campsite. The morning was clear and bright and Gael was enjoying the sunshine as much as the relief of emptying his bladder. With the stream of urine beginning to slow down, Gael removed his attention from the business at hand, looked about and burst out laughing.

  Still laughing Gael called out on his way back to the tent. “Mac. Mac. It is Sunrise.”

  Mac stirred in his bag. “Uh thanks. I'll get a move on.”

  “No Mac, Sunrise Outdoors.” Gael replied.

  “Yeah I got it the sun is up, time to get going.” Mac answered.

  “Mac just get out here.” Gael urged.

  Mac rushed out of the tent, dressed in just his long underwear and boots and holding his pistol. He moved quickly to where Gael was standing and looked where his companion was pointing. “Well hell man, let's go pick out our rides.”

  Mac didn't concern himself with the change of fortunes that ended up having them camp near Sunrise Outdoor and Power Sports. It was enough for him they were not going to lose a day tracking down snowmobiles. The shop had been looted, but the looters were more interested in ATV's than snowmobiles. In addition to two snowmobiles, they got a couple of tow behind sleds, hitches and riding gear including helmets with voice activated radios.

  Travel by snowmobile made travel across the winter landscape decidedly easier. No worries about drifts, no need to stick to the roads and a hell of a lot less work than walking. Riding steadily all day they were approaching their Mississippi river crossing, north of Hannibal. With night approaching, Mac suggested they spend the night in a remote cottage, they came upon.

  Pulling up slowly to the cottage, they passed a snow covered, but orderly garden. Stopping near the garden Mac glassed the cottage, through his binoculars. He spent a long time on every window looking for any sign of movement.

  Eventually he brought the binoculars down, “There is the body of a person on the porch and it looks like some kind of animal next to it. I didn't catch any movement at the windows and there are no tracks evident in the snow.”

  “We go ahead then?” Gael asked.

  Mac nodded. “Carefully.”

  They pulled up close to the porch and shut down their snowmobiles. Before ascending to the porch, they made a circuit around the cottage to make sure there was no signs of anyone still living there. Covered up by snow they found a few bodies of small animals, coyotes, opossums, raccoons. Some had been partially eaten, while others had just been killed.

  “Careful, there's some rotten boards here.” Mac cautioned as they stepped onto the porch.

  They went first to the person. It was an old woman, one arm was bandaged, presumably a bite, but no evidence of head trauma. From the blood and bits of flesh, around her mouth it was obvious she had been one of the risen dead, before freezing solid on this porch. Laying next to her was a large dog and when Mac cautiously touched the woman, the dog weakly raised its head and growled.

  “Whoa, easy there fella. We mean her no harm, just making sure she can't do any to us.” Mac said kindly.

  Gael knelt down to examine the dog, brushing snow off its body. “Looks like one if it's legs broke through the porch and trapped it.”

  “Probably would be kinder to put a bullet in him, but damn this is one loyal pooch. From the looks of things he's been bringing her meals and when she froze, he made sure them other critters didn't eat her.” Mac stated, praising the dog.

  Gael examined the floor boards trapping the dog's leg. “Mac, if you pry back these boards here and here, I think we could free it's leg.”

  Mac went to the front door and finding it unlocked, responded. “I'll fix a spot to bring him to, try to keep him from hurting himself more.”

  Mac entered the tidy little cottage, the main room was an open space, with a wood stove. In the back were two bedrooms and above was a loft space. Taking a blanket off the sofa, Mac spread it near the wood stove. Finding an ample supply of wood and tinder, Mac took the time to start a fire, before returning to Gael. Returning to the porch Mac found Gael sitting there with the dog's head on his knee.

  “You've made a friend.” Mac exclaimed.

  “Si, we have reached an understanding.” Gael answered.

  Working together the two men freed the dog and laid him on the blanket to warm near the stove. While Gael examined the dog's injuries, Mac found a pan and melted some snow and then poured the water into a bowl. To give the dog a drink Gael had to dip his hand into the water and let the dog lick it off.

  “Take it easy my friend, I know you are thirsty, but it will take some time for your body to adjust.” Gael soothed.

  As Gael continued to administer to the dog, Mac busied himself with the chore of unloading. First he made a makeshift patch for the hole in the porch, by dismantling the coffee table. Then brought in the gear they would need from their sleds. Finally, he stretched a tarp over the machines and staked it down.

  Coming in, Mac found Gael was stil
l fussing over the dog. Gael had cleaned and bandaged the leg that had been trapped. He had also found a brush and given the dog's coat a once over. The stove was slowly warming the cottage and Gael had stripped out of his heavy outer clothes, but covered the dog with a blanket.

  “How's he doing?” Asked Mac.

  “I think we got here just in time.” Gael answered.

  Gael bent and showed Mac, two crescent shaped scars on the dog's back. “This one is not like those other Punta's. He is steadfast. Even after the woman turned and tried to attack him, he continued to watch over her.”

  “Lab's are like that. We had a chocolate Lab, when our girls were younger, he was like our third child.” Mac replied.

  “Mac, we cannot leave him and he will be in no shape to travel tomorrow.” Gael said defiantly.