by J. R. Tate
“How bad did it look?” Cecilia asked, a knot forming in her stomach. Ryan had already been caught in the middle of the first blizzard that came through. And this time, he was a lot farther away from home.
“Just really dark and ominous. I’ve been a lot of places and I know what an incoming winter storm looks like. How long was he planning on staying out there?”
Cecilia dipped the metal tongs into the water bath and checked the bottles. She’d need to leave them in longer – the band wasn’t sealing around the jars quite yet.
“I think he planned to come back this evening.”
“I hope so, or even sooner than that. How much experience do you guys have with snow around here?”
Steve joined in on the conversation, his smile usually infection, but this time, Cecilia couldn’t get her mouth to move that way. “I have quite a bit. Oklahoma gets a lot more snow than Texas. And long spans without electricity aren’t far off either, so while this completely sucks, it’s happened before to me.”
“Only help was there to fix it. It wasn’t long term,” Mindy chimed in, handing another jar to Cecilia.
“No, not long term like this, but we had spans of several weeks where we didn’t have running water, electricity, heaters, or anything.”
Cecilia listened to Mindy and Steve banter back and forth, keeping one eye on the boiling water and one eye on Ty who continued to play with the pieces of vegetables they had tossed on the floor. What they didn’t throw away or can, they could use to lure in rabbits and rodents. For now, it was helping entertain Ty. The less he asked about Ryan and the more he focused on other things, the better it was for Cecilia to not have to explain anything. She couldn’t even tell her son the real reason his father was out there, running around around the frozen tundra. He wouldn’t understand it and she couldn’t risk someone hearing her.
“Cecilia?”
Looking up, she saw both Steve and Mindy staring at her. Her cheeks heated up and she didn’t want to admit that she had zoned out and didn’t even hear what they were saying.
“Yeah?”
“How long do we need to keep the jars in the water bath?” Mindy’s eyes widened but she looked sympathetic.
“Another ten minutes and we’ll see if they finally sealed up.”
Mindy patted her arm and grinned. “Honey, if you aren’t up for this we can take care of it. Do you need to go rest?”
“No, I’m okay. I can’t sit around and not do anything. It makes me think too much.”
“I understand. But if you need to, you can go back to the shelter. Steve and I can take care of it all.”
“You’re very kind but I’m good. How many jars do we have left?”
Mindy counted the boxes. “Looks like twenty-five jars.”
“Good. We have plenty. I wish we had enough vegetables to fill every one of them.” Cecilia squeezed the tongs, clanking the metal against the side of the camping stove. If she went back to the shelter now, she’d drive herself crazy worrying about Ryan. At least right now, she could channel her nervous energy on something productive. After everything he was doing for the people of Harper Springs, it was the least she could do for her husband.
~~
Even though Ryan knew no one was there by lack of tracks in the snow, he was still cautious as he went down the steps into the shelter. He wasn’t quite sure where Mike was and he possibly could have come back to his ranch before the heaviest of the snow hit and was hiding down inside.
Grabbing a flashlight from his belt, Ryan flicked it on and checked every corner of the small room. Breathing heavily, he could see the stream of breath come out of his mouth – it was probably just as cold down in the cellar as it was above, but at least the wind wasn’t blowing and that helped ease the chill to his bones.
It didn’t appear that anyone was there. Keeping the flashlight up, he looked around. There were boxes stacked up on the far wall and a wine rack adjacent to it. Ryan pulled a bottle from it and dusted off the label. It was a chardonnay that had been bottled about five years before at a winery in Lubbock. And luck was on his side – it was a screw cap so he wouldn’t have to mess with a cork.
Taking his gloves off, he opened up the wine and sniffed it. It had been forever since he had a drink of any type of alcohol and his mouth watered at the thought of out it’d taste. He’d have to be careful and not overdo it. Since it had been so long, any amount would be a shock to his system and make him feel buzzed a lot quicker than when he drank more often.
Taking a sip, the dryness of the wine was strong and it burned worse than Ryan had anticipated. It was almost like he was drinking a shot of whiskey but the warmth effect worked wonders on getting his body temperature to level out. The warm fuzzy feeling flowed down to his stomach. Taking another sip for good measure, he screwed the cap back on and set it on a nearby shelf. If he drank any more, he’d feel it, and he needed to be on his game in case Mike showed up – and hopefully, in case he ran across some information he’d have to decipher.
Pulling a box from the wall, he opened it up, blowing to get some of the dust off of it. It burned his nose and he sneezed. It was almost an invasion of privacy going through Mike’s belongings like he was. He second guessed himself again – what if he was reading way too far into all of this and Mike wasn’t up to a damn thing? How would he feel if someone had a hunch about him and he found them rifling through his stuff? How would he approach the person? Ryan considered backing away but his gut instinct told him otherwise. He had to get to the bottom of this, even if his gut reaction wasn’t justified. At least it would clear Mike of all suspicion and ease the tension a tad.
The first box was just full of family photo albums and heirlooms. Ryan was careful with those things – they seemed timeless and even though it was possible Mike was playing against Harper Springs, Ryan felt the need to respect the belongings.
Moving that box aside, he grabbed another. It was Christmas decorations. Feeling the need to go through it all, just in case Mike had hidden something, Ryan checked everything down to the bottom before putting it all back in its place.
There were only a few boxes left and Ryan was feeling discouraged. Maybe Mike was smart enough to not hide anything top secret here. Continuing the search, the third box had more decorations and patio items. Scooting it aside, Ryan grabbed the bottle of chardonnay again and took another sip. It wasn’t that it tasted good but the warmth that flowed down his esophagus to his stomach made hims top shivering and for the first time since he set out on this trek, everything began to normalize.
Sitting on the floor, he leaned back against the dirt wall. Everything around him – a far table, shelves, the wine rack, and the boxes were all completely covered in dust. There were spider webs when he flashed the light up toward the ceiling. He wondered how many black widows and scorpions had made this place their home. If it was anything like the cellar back on his property, Mike probably had to spray at least twice a year like Ryan had to.
He scoffed at his random thoughts – it was like someone had a remote control that took hold of his brain and made him switch from Mike’s possible conspiracy to exterminating bugs in a cellar. It was probably also the wine helping, and though it had been months since Ryan had a drink, it was crazy how much his body had adjusted and wasn’t as tolerant to it as before.
He slid the rest of the chardonnay into his bag and went ahead and grabbed two more off of the rack. Cecilia would think he was insane for doing it but she’d also love it when he poured her a glass. Since he wasn’t bringing any in-tel back, at least he wouldn’t be empty handed. It’d be his and her secret and though he wanted to take more, he couldn’t do too much or Mike would definitely notice the gap in the wine rack.
Flashing the light around the cellar again, Ryan stopped the light when he saw a small ledge about ten inches below the top near the ceiling. It was a wooden and looked like Mike had added it in as an afterthought. It was high up and out of Ryan’s reach. Standing, he looked around
for something that would be tall enough to get him up there. There was no ladder or step stool but there was a filing cabinet that would hopefully be close enough to give him the added height needed to get to it.
Steadying himself, Ryan pulled up on it, attempting to keep his balance. The filing cabinet was full so his weight made it sway slightly and he stopped, his knees bent as he stood on top of it. It felt like he was on a boat in choppy water, but once everything balanced out, he straightened his posture, reaching toward whatever was on the small ledge that was obviously serving as a hiding spot.
It was metal and cold and Ryan’s heart skipped a beat as if he had just stumbled on a lost treasure. Sliding it off the wooden ledge, he brought it to eye-level. It had a small luggage lock on it and was about ten inches by thirteen inches. Something inside slid around as Ryan jumped off of the filing cabinet, hitting the floor below him with a hard thud. A cloud of dust kicked up around him and he backpedaled toward the corner where he had recently sat, next to the wine rack and storage boxes he had sifted through.
Pulling the hammer out of his bag, Ryan hit the lock several times. For a luggage lock it stood strong and he tried again, the clank of the hammer against the metal box loud, echoing against the walls around him. With one more try, the lock finally fell apart, granting him access to whatever might be inside the box.
Opening the lid, he expected the contents to be dusty, matching everything else he had come across in the cellar. But what he saw inside was pristine – there was a spiral notebook, a compass, a small flash-drive, and a cell phone. Ryan tried to turn it on but just like everyone’s, it was dead. Flipping the spiral open, the inside of his mouth grew dry when he read the title on the very first page.
Atmospheric Frequency Control Project
Ryan’s assumptions had to be right. Atmospheric control? But who was heading this? Mike certainly didn’t have the means to do it, so he couldn’t be working alone.
Flipping to the next page, Ryan felt like he was reading a novel that he couldn’t put down. He had to skim fast – his sudden wave of paranoia was stronger than any bout he had felt before he found the spiral with notes jotted all over the pages. It was a government project in the works to use as warfare. Bile gathered in the back of Ryan’s throat. Was he reading this all correctly? How could that even be possible?
Turning the page, he tried to read as much as he could. If he took the journal with him, that would send Mike into a tailspin once he got back to take more notes or look into it. But at the same time, Ryan wanted him to know that his secret was out. But what was Mike’s capacity in all of this? What was he gaining by working with the government on manipulating weather for war? And if it was the US government, why were they killing off their own people? If it was the US government. The spiral notebook hadn’t specified if it was the US, which opened up even more speculation for Ryan.
“Well, well, well...”
The voice pulled Ryan from the notebook and when he looked up, heat coursed through him, hot enough to melt all of the snow and ice that the recent storm had dropped on the area. Scooting, he tried to stand up but Mike pointed a gun at him, halting him from doing anything. Dropping the notebook, Ryan held his hands up to show he wasn’t going to make a move, his heart thumping so hard that he was certain Mike could see it through all of the layers of clothes he was wearing.
“Taking in some good reading, Ryan?”
Ryan stared down the barrel of the gun, knowing any second the man standing over him could pull the trigger and kill any chance of his family’s survival. For now he had to play it cool. But how would he be able to talk himself out of this? Mike had caught him red-handed. How could he have let his guard down? He wasn’t expecting to stumble across something so big so fast.
“It’s interesting, yeah.”
“You know I have to kill you now, right?” Mike trained the gun on him, taking a few steps closer. If he pulled the trigger at that very second, it’d hit Ryan right between the eyes.
“No, you don’t.” Attempting to keep his voice steady, Ryan felt it shake, hindering any chance of not appearing nervous.
“Why is that? You’ve seen what I’ve been up to.”
“Because I’m here to help.”
“You’re a damn liar, Ryan. How in the hell do you think you’ll help?”
Ryan thought for a second, the cellar growing eerily quiet. “We can stop this. Try and get everything back to normal.”
Mike shook his head and moved the gun up and down. “Hell no! It goes way beyond anything you can imagine. In fact, you’re gonna come with me. I’m gonna show you exactly what is going on. And then...” He held the index finger of his free hand up and pointed it at Ryan. “…And then I’m going to dust your ass. What you know is too much and I can’t have anyone else knowing about it. Only the people involved.”
“Who is involved?” Ryan asked.
“That’s why I’m taking you there. You’ll know soon enough. But it won’t matter. You’re a dead man walking. I just want you to see why this is going on. You’ve been the one asking the most questions. Now you’ll know.”
“Don’t do anything stupid, Mike. Let me go. If it’s bigger than I can imagine, how in the hell am I going to do anything? Let me get back to my family and we’ll pretend like this didn’t even happen.” Leveling with Mike wasn’t working. Ryan needed to tread with caution. The look in Mike’s eyes showed insanity – one wrong word would take away any chance Ryan had of getting out of this alive.
“Stop talking, Ryan, and stand up!” Mike motioned the gun upward. “Don’t make any sudden movements or I will shoot you. And if you say another word, I’ll shoot you.”
Ryan fought everything inside himself to not speak. Standing, he clutched the handle of his bag and waited for Mike’s next command. He had to come up with a plan to get away. Where was this Atmospheric Frequency Control Project at? And how long would it take someone from Harper Springs to realize something was wrong?
Ryan wasn’t exactly clear about when he’d be back in town. And suddenly, he regretted not being more open to Steve about what he was really up to. It would be as if he had fallen into a black hole, simply disappearing with no way to track him down.
Chapter Sixteen
Steve spent the remainder of the day canning the vegetables they had harvested. The weather had cooperated for the most part, and only about two more inches had fallen, adding on to the foot that was already on the ground. Organizing the jars, he tried to keep everything similar together on the shelves in their storage cellar.
Cecilia had been a great help and though she occasionally had to go check on Ty, her and Mindy had completed most of the hard work, though both of them would argue and staying close to the boiling pot was great to keep warm.
“You coming back to the shelter?”
Cecilia broke his thoughts and he glanced over his shoulder at her. The poor woman looked exhausted – mainly from worry for her husband and son. He was glad she had Mindy to talk to from a woman’s perspective. He understood why Ryan went out on excursions. He hated that he wasn’t there with him this time.
“Here in a bit. I was going to see if I could possibly do a little hunting before it got too dark. With all of the wildlife coming up, I might get lucky.”
Cecilia nodded and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe Ryan will be back soon.”
“Maybe.” Steve shook his head and grabbed two cans of corn from the shelf, handing them to her. “How about you take that back and cook it up? It’s just corn but it’ll be a nice change of pace from everything else. Does Ty like corn?”
“He does. One of the few vegetables I could ever get him to eat.” Cecilia hesitated. “Are you sure? I don’t want to run through all of this too fast. It’s going to be a long winter.”
“I’m sure. We didn’t plant and harvest it just to stare at it on a shelf.” Steve patted her arm. “Ryan is okay, Cecilia. He’ll make it back.”
“I don’t know, Ste
ve. Something feels different this time.”
She acted like she wanted to say more but stopped herself. Opening her mouth to speak, she looked down at the floor and edged toward the steps, taking the first two up before stopping again.
“You know you can talk to me, Cecilia.” Steve stayed toward the back of the cellar, not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable.
She shook her head and bit her bottom lip, hoisting the jars of corn in each hand. “Nah, it’s nothing, Steve. We got a lot done today. It’s nice to put in a good day’s work.”
“It’ll be even better if I can kill a couple of rabbits or something. Would be nice to have some meat with that corn.”
“Yeah, I’ll take this back and hold off for a bit just in case you do get something. Thanks, again, Steve. I better go check on Ty. He’s probably starving.”
She didn’t let Steve reply before going up the stairs, the cellar door slamming behind her. Steve looked upward for a few seconds, half expecting her to come back down and spill whatever it was on her mind, but she didn’t. Turning back to the jars of vegetables, he finished organizing them and taking inventory, mentally noting that he had given her two jars. He wanted to keep an eye on their supply – they did lock the storage cellar but it wasn’t exactly top notch security. If a looter or drifter wanted in bad enough, it wouldn’t be a big challenge for them.
Pulling his rifle from the corner, he double checked to make sure it was loaded. He had spotted a few rabbits just north of town near the river. Hunting wasn’t his strong suit but his mouth watered at the thought of roasting one over a fire. Propane usage was a concern – the surplus they were lucky to have was running low and they had used up quite a bit doing the canning. If the weather allowed, they’d do a lot of their cooking over open flame. They’d reserve the propane and camping stoves for when they were stuck inside and everything was too wet to burn.
