by J. R. Tate
After making sure everything was organized to his liking, Steve went up the stairs to ground-level and locked up the cellar, double checking the padlock. He needed to mark where the cellar was just in case more snow came through but he didn’t want it to be obvious to outsiders. There was a metal t-post leaning against a tree and he slid it down into the snow – the ground was wet enough that it went right in without much effort. It seemed obvious to him but maybe not to everyone – it could just be a random post sticking out of the ground. It was too hard to find the cellar before and they couldn’t risk losing sight of it in the middle of another snow storm.
Gripping the rifle, he trudged through the snow. His legs were heavy as they sank deep into the cold, his muscles tightening as he lifted them to keep moving. The sun was beginning to set and he had to move fast. Snow was falling again, a tad heavier than it was just a few hours ago. His thin clothing was layered but still not heavy enough to protect him for extended amounts of time outside.
The moon was showing through the clouds, the silver silhouette beautiful, like Steve was in the middle of a picture on a Christmas card. He had to think that way or he’d lose his mind – his body shivered, his teeth chattered, and he debated on just heading back to the shelter before he got stranded. The thought of warm, lean meat to accompany the fresh vegetables they had worked on inspired him to keep moving, despite his body’s warnings to go back to a warm place.
Nearing the river, he tried to find a spot to hide. He stuck out like a sore thumb – his black clothes obvious against the sparkling white of the snow that spread throughout the area. Edging toward the riverbank, he noticed chunks of ice on top of the water. It wasn’t completely frozen – the motion of the water had helped hinder that, but it was close to being solid.
He heard something rustle behind him and turned on his heel, his mind resorting to the possibility that it could be another person. Crouching low, he scooted toward what was left of a tree, hiding behind the trunk. Gripping the rifle, he aimed it outward, scanning for whatever it could possibly be. He couldn’t be trigger happy – what if it was someone from Harper Springs? Even if it wasn’t, would he be able to pull the trigger to save his life? He’d never been put in a situation like that to truly know.
The snow crackled again and Steve squinted – despite the overcast weather, the moon was reflecting off of the snow, the white bright enough to make him not be able to see well.
And then he saw it – a ten point buck just on the edge of some trees. Steve’s heart raced, his palms were clammy, and he froze where he was. A deer could feed them for God knew how long. And they could use the hide for winter clothing.
Resting the rifle on his shoulder, he aimed. If he waited much longer the animal would saunter off and out of range for him to be able to kill him. Resting his index finger on the trigger, Steve steadied himself, attempting to calm his nerves. If he pulled the trigger and wasn’t ready, it’d be a miss, ensuring the buck would be gone and he’d miss his chance. He also had to make sure that the shot he took would be fatal – he didn’t want the animal running off with a wound that would make him suffer.
Taking a deep breath, Steve continued to watch. The animal was oblivious to the fact that a gun was trained on him. He had a hard time walking in the snow, his skinny legs fighting against the ice. Finally feeling confident enough to take a shot, Steve tightened his finger, the gunshot ringing out so loud that it echoed against the hills.
When he opened his eyes, he expected to see the deer gone with nothing to take back to town. He was wrong. Pulling himself to a standing position, Steve slowly walked toward his kill, the buck dead on the top layer of snow. There was minimal blood, which meant the shot killed him almost instantly.
Kneeling, Steve lifted the buck’s head, his dark black eyes still open, staring up at the night sky. He was a good sized deer which meant that getting him back to Harper Springs was going to be hard. The slick layer of snow would help until he reached areas where it wasn’t as packed. He wasn’t far from Harper Springs. Maybe he could hurry and get some help but he wasn’t confident in leaving it unattended – other animals lurked, ready to pounce on anything to eat and it was the same for the looters. Though they couldn’t see them constantly, they were hiding out, watching their every move for an opportunity to take something.
Steve would estimate that the buck probably weighed around one hundred and thirty to one hundred and fifty pounds. If he could stay on solid snow he could probably drag it back. He’d have to try, or at least get it as close as he could before needing help.
Grabbing the deer’s back legs, he held each one on either side of his hips and pulled. The animal’s dead weight proved harder to move than he had anticipated. Steve’s feet dug deep into the snow with each attempt to pull, making the deer feel about fifty pounds heavier than he actually was. Gritting his teeth, he pressed on, unwilling to give up his kill.
He had gone about one hundred feet when he decided to rest. The cold air was burning his lungs and his body ached. Bending at the waist, Steve coughed – it was dry and unproductive, another gift from the cold winter air.
Standing up again, he looked toward where he had shot the deer. It didn’t feel like they had moved that far and if he stayed at his current pace, it’d take him until morning to get back. Glancing at the dead animal and back up, his heart skipped a beat when he thought he saw someone look at him from behind a tree. It had to be his imagination – he was paranoid of someone watching him and it was just his mind playing tricks on him.
Only, he saw it again, and this time, the man held eye contact with him for at least five seconds before disappearing behind the tree again. Steve toyed with the idea of confronting them but his ammunition was low and he didn’t want to risk something happening. Right now, his main goal was to get the deer back to town. But who was the person? Were the looters attempting to make a move on them again?
Gripping the legs of the deer again, he checked one more time to see if he was being watched. There was no one there and though it was definite that he had spotted someone, he had to tell himself that it was his imagination. Whoever it was knew he had made a big kill, which meant that Harper Springs was possibly in danger of the looters making a move on their supply.
He had to hurry and get back, to preserve the deer and to let the other men know. He also wanted to see if Ryan had made it back yet. Something bigger than gathering supplies was going on with him and Cecilia was on the verge to tell it all. There was too much uncertainty to be out alone. They needed to work in teams to ensure safety.
Though an attack wasn’t certain, they had to be ready just in case. Steve delved deep to find energy – he couldn’t stop again until he was back in town. His adrenaline pumped, giving him what he needed to move fast and pull his kill home. The next step was prepping for battle. They might not make their move within the next few days but it would come eventually. The more they prepared, the better off they would be.
~~
The rope tightened around Ryan’s wrists, digging into his skin. The burning sensation shot up his arms. He considered attacking Mike. As he tied Ryan up, he wasn’t holding the gun. Ryan could jump at him and tackle him, taking over whatever plan Mike was up to. But Mike outweighed Ryan but at least fifty pounds. Would Ryan be able to overtake him or would it just piss Mike off more?
He had to try – if he allowed Mike to kidnap him, he could kiss his family goodbye. At least he could go down trying. Right now, the only thing tied up was his right wrist. Mike moved to the left and before he could knot the rope, Ryan lunged at him, hugging Mike’s midsection as if he were a linebacker on the line.
As predicted, Mike was strong, and Ryan grunted as he struggled to get the other man down. They both fell to the floor in a loud thud and Ryan’s head hit something. For a second, his vision went black and he fought through it. If he gave up now, it’d just make things worse. He had committed to trying to fight is way free from Mike and he couldn’t succumb to weakn
ess.
Both men struggled on the floor and Ryan kept one eye on the gun that Mike had left sitting on a table near them. He had already stripped Ryan of all of his weapons and though there were several guns, the one Mike had trained on him was the closest to get to.
Pinning Mike to the floor, Ryan made a move to go for the gun. It would mean letting go of Mike and it was a hard feat to get him down but that didn’t matter – the only way he’d be able to defeat him is if he got the gun first. In a physical battle, Ryan wouldn’t be able to match up in the long run and both he and Mike knew that.
Crawling on the dirt floor, he pushed away from Mike, knowing exactly where the handgun was. Mike’s hand clamped down on the back of his leg, pulling him back. Ryan kicked at him, freeing himself for a split second before Mike clutched down on his calf muscle again. Continuing to kick, Ryan fought, gritting his teeth as he tried his hardest to get to the table where the gun was.
“You son of a bitch!”
Mike yelled, getting a hard enough grasp on Ryan that he pulled him back again, sliding on the dirt floor. There was nothing to grab onto to stop Mike. Reaching for the table leg, it was too far away and Ryan found himself on his back, lying face up, looking toward the ceiling. Mike stood over him, pacing in a circle as if Ryan was the lowest on the food chain and about to be sacrificed.
Mike pulled the gun from the table – the gun that Ryan almost got his hands on. If only he had moved a little faster, the whole situation would be playing out completely different than it was at that moment. Mike clicked the hammer back but didn’t wave it at Ryan. He aimed it about a foot away from Ryan’s head, his smile full of evil as he glared down at him.
“Why’d you have to go and complicate this? Why couldn’t you just let me tie you up?”
Ryan didn’t answer – it was a rhetorical question and even if Mike wanted him to say something, he didn’t have a response for him. He felt his heart beat hard in his chest, so loud that Mike could probably hear it, so strong that it was palpitating through the layers of clothes he was wearing.
“I guess I’m going to have to complicate things too,” Mike said, continuing to pace as he held the gun, his arm shaking. He was unsteady and even if he didn’t want to shoot Ryan, his nervous tick could possibly do him in.
Lifting his head off the floor, Ryan tried not to make any sudden movements. Mike was already on edge. He had tried to get free. He had tried to get the gun. It didn’t work and now his captor was even more pissed off, willing to do anything to Ryan if he didn’t play it cool.
“Why are you doing this?” Ryan asked. He had nothing to lose.
Mike knelt beside him and grabbed the rope, resuming where they had left off before Ryan’s attempts to escape. He could try to attack again – Mike surely wouldn’t expect him to attempt it again so soon. But Mike hadn’t killed him yet. If he tried and failed again, Ryan might not be so lucky. Maybe Mike would lead him to whatever he was involved in. If he truly wanted him dead, it would have happened already.
Mike tightened the rope on his other wrist, securing his hands together. Even if Ryan tried, there was no escaping it. He followed the same pattern on Ryan’s ankles, making just enough slack in the rope for him to be able to walk. If he tried to run, he’d fall flat on his face and wouldn’t get very far.
“Why are you doing this, Mike?” Ryan asked again, hoping the sympathy card might help save his life.
“I want you to see, Ryan. I want you to know what’s going on before I kill you. Now get up. We have a lot of ground to cover in little time. Don’t you dare try to get away again. Next time I will kill you, you hear me? Your life isn’t an important factor in the grand scheme of what this world has become.”
Ryan stared up at Mike Rayburn – former fire chief for Harper Springs, now a man appearing to be at his wit’s end, acting out in desperation over something Ryan was clueless about. Maybe between now and when they got to where they were going, Ryan could devise a plan to get away and stop whatever it was that Mike was involved with.
Ryan had no choice but to do what he was told. It meant staying alive one more day – he had come too far to die by the hands of a man he once trusted. Sooner or later, Mike would make a mistake. Until then, Ryan had to play along – for the future of his family and for the future of the planet.
Chapter Seventeen
When Steve arrived back at the shelter, Darryl and a few of the guys from the fire department were willing to help him get the deer to the storage cellar. It was cool enough down inside to keep it preserved, the cellar serving as a refrigerator. Getting it down the stairs was a challenge with Steve and Darryl walking backwards, carrying the front end of the buck and the other two men at the tail end, taking each step slowly. With four men it wasn’t quite as heavy but the dead weight made it seem even heavier than it really was.
Setting it in the closest corner, Steve grabbed a sheet and draped it over the deer, relieved he had made it back with the kill and also unharmed by whoever it was that had been watching him. It didn’t mean they were out of harm’s way – it just meant that things were fine for the time being.
“Damn, Steve, where’d you hunt this one down?” Darryl asked, patting the back thigh of the buck.
“Just north of town by the river. I was really expecting to just get a jack-rabbit or something and there he was.”
“He should be fine down here tonight. It’s cool enough in here and tomorrow we can clean it. If we keep it preserved it’ll feed us for a long time.” Darryl’s smile was wide and it made Steve feel like he had actually done something for Harper Springs instead of sitting around, eating up all the food, wasting space.
The other two men had already gone back to the shelter, leaving Steve and Darryl alone. It was a good moment, but unfortunately, one that would quickly be drained of joy, but Steve had to tell them. It would compromise everyone’s security if he kept it all to himself.
“Sadly, the buck isn’t the only thing I ran across up there.” Steve looked down at the buck and back to Darryl, the older man’s face full of questions without him saying a word. Continuing, Steve took a few steps back and paced in the small, cramped space. “Someone was watching me.”
“What do you mean, someone?”
“I don’t know. I was busy dragging the deer through the snow and when I looked up, someone was peaking from behind a tree. They ducked away quickly but looked again. The second time, they had no problem being spotted. We held eye contact and everything.”
“Man or woman?”
“A man,” Steve answered. “He was probably late thirties, early forties. But that doesn’t matter. He’s obviously a scout and now they know we have this big kill. They have reason to attack.”
Darryl clicked his tongue and raked his hand through his hair, his brow creased as the words hit him. “We don’t know if he was with the looters. What makes you think that?”
“They’ve been watching us since that first attack. They know we are working to rebuild. You really think they’d take their eyes off of us? They are going to attack. They’re just waiting for the perfect time to do it.” It was the first time Steve had a hard time keeping a positive attitude. “Has Ryan made it back yet?” When he got back to the shelter, they were quick to whisk the deer off to storage and he didn’t have a chance to check.
Darryl shook his head, his eyes downcast. “No. He’s not back yet.”
“Wasn’t he supposed to be back today? Didn’t he say it’d only take a day to go out and scrounge up supplies?”
“That’s what he said but as you know, things aren’t exactly going as planned. He’s gonna want to know about the person watching you hunt. You’re right, whoever it was is probably with the looters and they’ll be ready and willing to pounce on us knowing that we have this deer. It’s sad that we’ve resorted to this – it probably only weights, what? A hundred or so pounds? Before this, that would’ve been a good kill but nothing to make anyone go crazy.”
Steve rubbed
his hands together, his fingers numb from all of the time exposed to the cold. He was ready to get to his cot and get some shut-eye, but his adrenaline was still pumping and he likely wouldn’t get a bit of sleep.
“Maybe Ryan will make it back tonight. He’s always got some kind of plan,” Steve said. “We’re low on so much stuff, I don’t even think we could outlast the looters if it came down to a gun battle.”
“Yeah, and we don’t even know if they’ll outnumber us. They’ve been making sure that we haven’t gotten a good idea of the dynamic of their group. I think for now, someone needs to keep watch. It’s bitterly cold out so we can come down into the storage room for a bit to thaw and go back up. This is what we’ll need to watch the most. They’re more interested in taking our supplies than anything else.”
“I agree, Darryl.” Steve didn’t like the thought of having to keep watch alone in the dark – especially now that the temperature was falling well below zero degrees at night. And what if blizzard conditions started back up again? At least whoever it was that got stuck in them would have an ample amount of food and tools if they had to stick it out alone for a few days.
“Good. You take first watch and I’ll go let everyone else know.” Darryl patted him on the shoulder, the corner of his mouth turning up in a small grin. “Good job, today. You’re allowing us a few more weeks of good food with the kill you made tonight.”
“Or a major battle – if I hadn’t killed the deer they might not be so interested in us.”
Darryl laughed and shook his head. “Nah, Steve, that’s not true. They’ve been interested in us from the moment they knew we were rebuilding Harper Springs. Deer or no deer, an attack is inevitable. The deer is just pulling us out of this mode of complacency we’ve been in. Time to wake back up and guard what is ours.”
“See you in a few hours, Darryl.” What Ryan’s father said was true – the looters were after resources that would benefit them the most. Considering how sparse and ransacked the area already was, Harper Springs was like a gold mine.
