The Damaged Climate Series (Book 3): Blizzard Warning

by J. R. Tate

  ~~

  Ryan stood beside Mike Rayburn’s horse, tied up like livestock at a rodeo. Mike hadn’t said a word since bringing him up to ground level and though the silence might be a good thing, Ryan had a million questions he wanted answers to. Would it even matter now? Mike wouldn’t let him live after all of this, so his only chance of survival was figuring out a way to escape. If he had a chance to work at it, he might be able to wiggle out of the restraints but Mike knew what he was doing – the rope wouldn’t budge, and any time Ryan moved just an inch, it dug deeper into his skin, rubbing a raw and sore spot on his wrists and ankles.

  “I can hear your thinking, Ryan.” Mike finally broke the silence, glancing at him from the corner of his eye.

  “What am I thinking, Mike?” Maybe if he could keep the conversation going, Mike might reveal something that would be useful.

  “You’re trying to think of a way to untie yourself. I wouldn’t bother. You know I did rodeo way back when. Steer wrestling, calf roping – I can tie a knot better than most. Doing it to you is no exception. And besides, if you run, I’ll have to kill you, and I’m not ready to do that yet.”

  “You don’t have to kill me at all, Mike.”

  “After seeing what you’re about to, you won’t want to live. The weather is taking care of killing us off anyway.”

  “All because of something you’re doing?” Ryan asked, prodding for more clues. He had to be careful – one wrong question and Mike might do something that Ryan couldn’t come back from. He couldn’t afford to get injured again. His leg was finally getting back to normal – it would be his luck that something else would happen to him.

  “You’re sneaky, aren’t you, Ryan? All this time we worked together at the fire station and I never realized it. A silent killer.” Mike wagged his finger toward Ryan, securing a saddlebag on the horse. “Where is your horse? I presume you rode here on one, right?”

  Ryan disregarded the question and continued. Maybe he could get him right where he wanted him. “What is the Atmospheric Frequency Control Project?”

  The question stopped Mike in mid-step, his grin fading into a frown instantaneously. “Where’s your horse, Ryan?”

  “What is it?” Ryan tried to step forward but it was more like a hop, and he almost lost his balance in the snow.

  “Fine. If you don’t want to answer me, you can just walk behind my horse. Seeing as you’re pretty much incapacitated at the moment, that might be a hard task for you.”

  Damn it, he wasn’t budging. Ryan motioned with his head in the direction he had left the horse. It was dark out and it took a second for Mike to spot his horse. Guiding Ryan and his own horse toward it, he secured the horses together, making it where they both could walk, but if Ryan tried to get away, he’d pull Mike with him. He untied Ryan’s legs so he could straddle the saddle, but kept his hands tied.

  “It’ll be like pack horses. I’ll be the lead. And I mean it, Ryan. Don’t try to escape. Besides, why would you want to? I’m about to expose you to a world that will explain every question you have on your mind. If it wasn’t for all this snow and me being pressed for time, I’d make your ass walk next to the horse.”

  “That’s not what I’m’ worried about,” Ryan replied, shaking his head.

  “What are you worried about, then?”

  “What your plans are with me after you show me what you’ve been up to. It’s like the saying goes – you’ll tell me but then you’ll have to kill me.”

  “You’re accurate to an extent.” Mike looked around, double checking the cellar door and his saddlebags. “I think we have enough food and supplies to get us through to our destination. Once we’re there, none of that will matter.”

  “Why won’t it matter?”

  “How about you put a stop to the questions right now? How about we ride in silence and enjoy the moon reflecting off of the snow? You never were much of a talker and now suddenly, I can’ get your ass to shut up.”

  Mike dug the heel of his boot into his horse, bringing him to life. Ryan’s horse responded from the pull on the rope, following in stride with the other. It was a shame Mike had stripped him of everything – if he had his knife, he could easily cut the lead rope and make a fun for it. Even if that was a possibility, Mike was armed like a one man army and the chances of Ryan actually getting away before he was shot were slim to none. His curiosity was running wild – he wanted to see what Mike had been up to. In the time it took them to travel to wherever they were going, Ryan could try to devise a way to either kill Mike if necessary, or get away and make it back to Harper Springs with the information he’d gather from his trip with his former chief.

  Patience wasn’t his strong suit and he hated being held hostage. Mike had a gun in a holster on his hip and he was a quick draw. Ryan felt helpless, and though he was trying to play Mike for information, it was still hard to be thrown into the situation he was in. He was used to taking control and now he was having to take orders from a man that was up to no good. Ryan wasn’t sure if he’d make it but he told himself he had to. He had no idea what they were about to stumble on but by the way Mike had been acting, along with the warnings Doug spouted off before his suicide, was enough intel that could possibly save everyone’s lives.

  Mike guided him toward the foothills that were at the base of the mountains. More snow fell and the temperatures were easily following well below the freezing mark. The horse hooves clomped on the snow that was now getting packed enough that they only sank a few inches into it. If more snow fell on top of it, it would soften again, but for now the horses were gaining enough traction to keep a steady pace, which also meant they wouldn’t exhaust as easily. With no vantage point or idea how far they’d be going, Ryan wasn’t sure how fast they needed to go or how long they’d be traveling.

  “How far are we going?” Ryan asked, though he knew that Mike wasn’t in the mood to answer many questions.

  Glancing over his shoulder at him, Mike grunted and pointed. “We’re not going far tonight. It’s too cold and I need to see what the weather is going to do in the morning. We’ve gotta cross over the mountains. That’s our first huge step in my plan.”

  “You think these horses can make it?”

  “Why wouldn’t they be able to? I’ve ridden my horses through this mountain range many times.”

  “They aren’t completely rested. It takes a fully rested horse to be able to make it up those trails. If you’re thinking we’re just gonna hop on over, you’re mistaken. And you gotta think about the weather. These horses aren’t used to snow and temperatures this cold.”

  Mike halted his horse and turned to face Ryan, his scowl so angry that it made Ryan think that he was about to shoot him dead right where they were.

  “We are stopping at a camp I made. They’ll rest tonight and then we’ll get moving in the morning. It’s about a half a mile from here. We’ll have to make do with what we have. And I can’t listen to you. You’ll just shoot down all of my plans if it means your survival.”

  Mike nudged the horse again, bringing both of them to life. To his surprise, his horse was responding right in tune to the other, which meant it had been well trained and would probably handle the mountains fine – but with the snow and cold temperatures, nothing would work as well as it would under normal circumstances. Crossing the mountains was going to be treacherous and probably worse than outrunning tornadoes and dealing with droughts.

  Ryan spotted the camp that Mike had mentioned. From the fire pit to the cleared out spot in a nook off a hill, he could tell that this was a place that Mike often went to. How it had been left untouched was nothing short of a miracle, but it was also well hidden and out of the wind.

  Mike slid off the side of his horse, helping Ryan down as well. His wrists were still tied which complicated his ability to do much of anything. As soon as his boots hit the snow below, Mike tied them back up, making Ryan hobble to the cleared area where they’d stay for the rest of the night. Falling backward
, Ryan hit the ground with a hard thud.

  Mike threw him a blanket and a metal camping mug, turning to the fire pit where he easily got a fire started. The flames grew and the warmth was invigorating, lighting up the sides of the hills in the middle of the darkness. The horses were close enough to keep safe and warm, which was crucial for them to perform well tomorrow.

  Mike poured Ryan a cup of coffee and he guided it to his mouth, taking a sip. With his hands tied, even the simple task of drinking coffee was hard to manage but his captor showed no signs of freeing him. There was no convincing him that he wasn’t going to run. If the situation was reversed, Ryan wouldn’t trust him either.

  Neither men spoke as they sipped the coffee, staring into the orange flames that were growing. Somehow Mike had managed to keep firewood dry – maybe he was a better survivalist than Ryan had given him credit for.

  Mike scooted across the snow, reaching for a chain in the left saddlebag on his horse. He twirled a padlock on his index finger and approached Ryan, pulling a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket, his smile looking even more evil with the fire lighting up his face.

  “Hold your hands out,” Mike demanded, opening one of the cuffs.

  Ryan complied – there was no sense in fighting any of it. It was clear that death wasn’t an imminent threat yet. When his life was in danger, he’d try and make another move.

  The cuffs clamped down on his skin, cold on his wrists. Mike left the rope tied together as well, adding an extra layer of security. Securing the chain, he strung it toward a tree that was about five feet away from where Ryan was sitting, wrapping it around the trunk and locking it with the padlock he had been twirling.

  “I know how sneaky you are, Ryan. I can’t risk you making a run for it when I fall asleep. I’d stay awake if I could but we both know we need to rest.”

  “If you want me to beg you to not do this, you’re mistaken.” Ryan spoke through clenched teeth. He wasn’t in the most comfortable position on the ground and the rope dug deeper into his skin, feeling as if it was about to rub right through to his bone.

  “Good. That’ll save us both some time and energy.”

  Mike leaned back against the tree that Ryan was secured to, pulling a blanket up around him. His own blanket was covering him up to just above his waist, not really warming him much. The cold air nipped at him – there wasn’t a chance in hell he’d get any sleep with how uncomfortable he was.

  “We’ll leave first thing in the morning. Until then, sweet dreams,” Mike said, keeping his eyes closed as he talked.

  If there was a way to get loose, Ryan would try – not to get away, but to maneuver into a more comfortable position. Judging by the moon, it was a little after midnight. With the way the night was playing out, it was going to be a long one.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Steve and Darryl worked all day the next day on getting the deer cleaned and stored. They skinned the hide, hoping someone might know how to make use of it for some type of winter clothing or bedding. Steve wished there was a way to save the head as a trophy but without the needed supplies, no one would be able to preserve it. He’d at least cut the antlers off – not only were they decoration, but they could make knives or tools out of them.

  With the storage cellar being so cool, concerns of the meat rotting weren’t forefront on anyone’s minds. In fact, if it got any colder outside, everything inside would be on the brink of freezing. Steve slipped the meat into the hole in the wall next to the boar meat that they’d need to cook off soon – it had been a few days and though it was all natural, he feared that even though it was staying cool, it would eventually go bad. They could always keep it out on the snow – there was plenty of ice to get the job done, but someone would have to stand guard and protect it from animals and looters.

  Wiping his hands down the front of his clothes, he was surprised at how much blood was on them. Laughing, he set the knife down next to Darryl and stood up, taking some tension off of his back.

  “What’s so funny?” Darryl asked, looking up at him, filleting a few more pieces away from the bone.

  “Nothing. We just look like we’ve been in here chopping up a human being or something.”

  “I wouldn’t joke about that,” Darryl replied with the shake of his head. “You ever hear about that soccer team up in the mountains? They got hungry enough to...”

  Steve cut him off. “Yeah, yeah, I think everyone has heard about that. You think we’ll ever run out of food and get hungry enough to get that desperate?”

  Darryl followed him, looking down at his clothes. “I hope not. The thought of being a cannibal makes my skin crawl. But you never know. If it came down to surviving or dying, there’s no telling what people will do.”

  “If we stay on top of the vegetables and the hunting, I think we’ll be okay. Not to mention the rivers and lakes will fill up again with all the snow we’re getting. There should be a good supply of fish out in them.”

  “We won’t let it get bad. We’re all too damn stubborn. I already feel like things are on their way up. If the weather would stop being so extreme, it would be even better.”

  Steve stared down at the mutilated carcass of the buck he had shot. They could use the bones for something too. Trying to channel the Native Americans, he remembered reading about how they used every bit of the animal and left nothing to waste. He wasn’t sure how lucky they’d be to hunt down an animal of that size so every bit meant something to them.

  “I wonder where Ryan is and when he’ll be back,” Steve pondered. If there was anyone who wouldn’t let Harper Springs completely die, it was him, but it had already been twenty four hours since he had set off on gathering supplies and he still hadn’t made it back.

  “Any time now. In fact, he should’ve already been back.”

  “I wonder if anyone should go look for him.”

  Darryl wiped his hands on a towel and knelt down on the floor, double checking the bones for any more meat. Steve didn’t know him well but had learned from their time spent together that he wasn’t a man of many words. His slumped body language suggested that he was definitely worried about his son but he wouldn’t ever admit it out loud. He was a proud man and speaking how he really felt showed weakness. Steve’s father was a lot like him. He knew the prideful standpoint all too well.

  “If anyone knows the area, it’s Ryan.” Darryl looked up at Steve and back down to the animal, gathering the remnants of the corpse.

  “Even in weather like this? Y’all have said so yourself. Y’all have never seen snow like what has fallen here.”

  “I have faith in Ryan.” Darryl’s brow creased and his eyes scanned the storage room, surveying everything they had stockpiled.

  “I do too. It’s the other things out there that I worry about.” Steve backed up toward the steps. They were finished butchering the deer and his focus was now on Ryan. “I think someone should look for him. What if he fell and got hurt?”

  “I think we should give it more time. Let’s cook off the rest of the boar meat tonight, have a nice sit down meal with everyone, and then we can make decisions in the morning. Ryan said he’d only be gone for the day. But Ryan was never good at the concept of time before all of this happened. Without a watch or a cell phone, that skill of his is worse.”

  “Okay, Darryl. You know him better than me. I’ll go with your plan.”

  “We can’t go off of knee jerk reactions, Steve. I get it – he’s your friend and he’s my son. But everything we do now takes a small shred of thought. We run off now to go find him, we leave Harper Springs exposed. There are other men here to help protect it but we need a definitive plan. What if we get lost or hurt out there too? I really hate that I’m thinking this right now, but we can’t risk the lives of everyone because of one man. The fact that it’s my son out there makes it even worse but times are different now. It’s about surviving. It’s about protecting what is ours.”

  “So you’re good with just abandoning Ryan?”
Steve understood Darryl’s point of view but still couldn’t accept it. Maybe his and Ryan’s relationship was a lot rockier than Steve had realized.

  “No, I’m not saying abandon him. Just think it through before you run off too. What if it’s a trap? What if that’s what the looters want us to do? Less men here means a much easier attack for them. If Ryan isn’t back by tomorrow morning, we can go looking for him. Until then, stick to the course.”

  Steve wasn’t sure if he agreed with the older man or not. He was right – they shouldn’t panic because they could fall right into something that would get them into trouble. But the thought of Ryan out there, possibly hurt or dead made his stomach hurt. Rather than continue to butt heads with Darryl, Steve went up the stairs to ground-level. A fresh layer of snow had fallen since they had been working on the deer and his boots sunk into it about six inches, making his walk a bit harder.

  He wasn’t quite ready to go back to the shelter yet. It was about mid afternoon and they’d soon need to get the fire going to cook the rest of the boar meat. If the weather allowed, they’d avoid firing up a camp stove so they wouldn’t have to burn off any propane. A steady snowfall drifted down from the dark clouds swirling overhead. It was tranquil and beautiful, but also a possible nuisance if it got any heavier or colder.

  Walking back to the area where he shot the deer, he knew that curiosity might do him in. He wondered if he’d see the same person who was watching him, but the chances of that were slim. Who would be out there in the same spot when nothing else was going on? The whole situation had weird written all over it and when he thought about the look on the person’s face, it made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

  There was a small pink stain where he had shot the deer. It was quickly fading away from the layer of snow that had fallen on top of it but Steve could see remnants of the deed. A person who didn’t know it had happened might not notice it – it was faint enough that it wasn’t obvious.