by Logan Keys
“I did. I told them ‘Went to get help. Be back ASAP.’”
Luckman guessed that made Holtz the hero in this scenario. He didn’t care. He just wanted someone to patch up German. He probably would need antibiotics too.
“We need to sit and eat.”
“I thought you left the food?” Luckman asked.
Holtz looked surprised. “Most of it. You?”
“I have a thing of crackers.”
“Well, I have jerky. So, we have enough for a short meal. Then we can run again. Come on. After some rest we will go so much faster.”
Holtz was being way too nice. His face was still busted from when German cracked him before. Did he really want to help? Luckman decided he wouldn’t sleep until the border either way.
“Yeah, okay.”
They sat and ate and decided that the desert was warm enough still that the killing cold might be slowed down quite a bit once it stretched this far. “The sun is still winning in the west,” Holtz said, and Luckman shuddered to think that the elements were at war and humans were just a consequence of their battle.
“We should get going.” Luckman shouldered his pack and then squinted into the sun. It felt nice to have to squint. It was high in the sky and it was certainly melting the ice. Warmth, like hope, seeped into his veins. It was better than a Red Bull.
They started running again. It felt like this time, Luckman could go on until the border. Could they make it before dark? He felt certain that they could.
But as they ran, again the fatigue reared its ugly head. It felt like cinder blocks were tied to his legs, and though he pushed until his lungs felt like they’d burst…and beyond that even…he finally had to stop and put his hands on his knees breathing hard.
“How…far….do you…think?”
Holtz answered, “You don’t w….want to know.”
They wouldn’t make it until the next day. That’s two days. Two days of German bleeding in that cave. The women alone…yes, that was an old school and overbearing man thought, but still, just anyone could seek shelter where they had and happen upon the women and…
He tried not to think about it. He squinted into the sun again….and the outline of a shape…moved.
Luckman shook his head, maybe he was losing it. “Do you see…”
“What?” Holtz asked drinking some of the water before taking some snow and packing it inside to melt for later. At least they had plenty of that. In a desert one couldn’t ask for more. Although tonight without a cave would be freezing.
Luckman watched the shape in the distance. It was still now.
It moved again!
“There!” Luckman shouted, and he started walking towards it.
As they got closer, it was clear the shapes split into two. Luckman counted four sets of legs and frowned. The shapes moved like hulking creatures not people, and the sun behind them blurred them into monsters that made him feel like maybe they should go in the opposite direction.
But for some reason, he kept on.
“Horse,” Holtz wheezed, trying to keep up.
“Burro,” Luckman said.
They were both right.
They approached carefully to find a donkey tied to a horse whose owner was slumped over the pommel. He’d been dead for at least a day and Luckman and Holtz covered their noses.
“Be nice if you and I weren’t finding dead bodies together all the time,” Holtz said, and Luckman even had to chuckle but it was quickly subdued by the fact that they’d found transportation, but a dead man was clinging to their ride.
“I call dibs on the donkey,” Holtz said.
“Do you know how to ride?”
“No. You?”
“Actually…kind of. My ex was a farm girl and she made us do our vows on horseback.”
“Really?” Holtz fought a grin and lost. “You rode a horse for your wife down the aisle?”
Luckman shook his head and realized the absurdity of the conversation at this moment but then crossed his arms, rubbed his nose. “I didn’t really ride it….they um…the horse for me was acting up so her father had to lead it.”
Holtz guffawed and then roared with laughter, slapping his knee. “The father of the bride gave you away!?”
“Basically. Damned cowboy-themed wedding idea. It was all hers, too. I just went along with it because… Ah man, she looked amazing in that dress. And that night was…” Luckman turned hot under the collar. “Well, you get the picture. It was worth it all to be honest. I’d do it again.”
“Well, hop on up their, big boy, and I’ll lead you out of Mexico on my burro.”
Luckman rolled his eyes. “Let’s start with the donkey.” He sighed. “Let’s remove his pack.” Together they unstrapped the pack from the nervous animal who brayed loudly in Luckman’s face out of fear.
“Holy hell,” Holtz said.
When Holtz went around to the other side the pack fell into him and he struggled then dropped it. Once it was on the ground Luckman could see what it was. Ammo, and tons of it. Also a case.
“You think this is a rifle?”
“It’s not a violin.” Luckman realized they had just found the most locked and loaded donkey in the desert.
Holtz reached for the case, but Luckman stopped him. “I think you need to keep clear of weapons for a while, don’t you?”
Holtz shrugged, and they left the ammo and case where it was on the ground. It was too heavy and would weigh them down anyway.
Luckman finally turned to the toughest part of the job of getting a ride that was faster than their tired legs. The dead man was stiff, it was clear from where Luckman stood that he was thoroughly rigor mortised into his position. He touched the man’s left arm and it was like touching cement.
“We gotta get him pried off here,” Luckman said.
Holtz came to his side but looked at Luckman and not the body. It was obvious he was uncomfortable with it as well. Together, they tried to push him over the side, but the man was stuck like glue.
“We could…” Luckman thought. “We could undo the saddle and pull it all off. Hopefully it comes loose.”
“You know how to re-saddle the horse?”
“Not really, but how hard can it be?”
The answer was very. It was also difficult to figure out how to undo the right buckles to the girth… A word he learned from Holtz who approached it all very scientifically and had a photographic memory so that he’d managed to remember exactly the one diagram he’d seen in an AG class in the ninth grade where it said what the saddle’s components where.
“I have not actually ridden anything, not even so much as a motorcycle,” Holtz confessed. “I’m hoping the donkey will be easier. I think a full-on horse might chuck me and break my neck.”
That was always a risk. They got the dead man down and put his hat over his head while they worked on putting the saddle in its spot once again. Luckman said, “I took a couple lessons at a walk with a few scary moments of trotting with my ex-father-in-law, who laughed himself out of the arena a few times and who called me a city slicker more times than I like to admit. But I doubt I can sit on this horse without a saddle so let’s get this right.”
And so they worked together with arguments about which piece went where until it looked like it might stick in place.
“Good enough,” Luckman said.
During their struggle with the saddle, Luckman had looked in the saddle bag and found a pistol that he kept Holtz from seeing. He wasn’t sure it was wise to keep it at all, but it was the opposite of wise to let the other scientist know about it. This one was light enough to carry. To hide.
“I’m gonna use this rock to step up on,” Luckman said. “Keep this thing still, would ya?”
Holtz nodded and held the reins of the decent sized black Quarter horse that seemed---if he was any judge--- to be a very nice horse. A cow horse if he remembered the difference
And he was right on that account because as soon as he climbed up onto the r
ock before he managed to sit in the saddle, it shifted from his weight, and the horse spun as fast as lighting in the opposite direction.
Boom! He fell, backpack and all, every part of him feeling as though it broke off into a new direction. He saw a flash of white behind his eyes as his head struck the hard ground.
His vision cleared, and Holtz helped him to his feet.
“I think we need to tighten that cinch more.”
Luckman tried to agree but the wind was knocked out of him. Instead, he rose to his feet and glared at the problem. They both touched their chins and took in the sideways saddle with no less scientific interest than they had the discoveries back in the Antarctic.
Luckman pulled the saddle to rest where it was supposed to, once again. If they tightened it more it seemed like it might hurt the horse but as they watched, the horse sucked in and his belly filled up with air. Luckman and Holtz shared a look. “Did you see that?” Luckman asked.
“Yeah, he sucked in air and blew up like a tick”
“On purpose!” Luckman growled at being outsmarted by the beast. “Walk him around a bit see if it goes down.”
The horse seemed to be planning to keep the air in as long as he could. It was something Luckman had never seen before. He patted the horse on the nose as he walked him. “Smart fella…or lady.” Luckman leaned down. “Or big fella indeed.” Luckman chuckled when he found the horse intact.
As if on cue, the horse snorted out the air letting his belly rest at a normal size once more.
Holtz rushed over and yanked on the leather as tight as it would go. The animal didn’t seem phased, so it had to be normal to wear it that tight. This time when Luckman mounted, he put his feet in the stirrups and sat up tall. The horse waited for his cues and didn’t spin or do anything out of sorts.
Holtz brought his donkey over and he climbed on, but gave Luckman the one lead the donkey had. “Don’t go too fast,” the other scientist said before he wrapped his long legs comically around the burro’s sides.
“We should try to go as fast as we can.”
“Okay, I’ll hold on, but slow up if I yell ‘uncle.’”
Luckman nodded and clucked. The stallion, as he now knew the horse he was riding to be, shifted beneath him and then picked his way up the trail. “Good boy,” Luckman said patting his neck.
They got used to a walk, and then Luckman slowly urged the beast into a small trot. Holtz had trouble with the choppy trot of his little donkey, complaining about his nether parts being bruised, but Luckman felt the stallion chomp at the bit to get going, and he wanted to as well. He pulled up and turned to face Holtz. “Why not let me take this one alone a bit faster to town and back again? How long could it take me if I pick up to a gallop?”
Holtz glared at him. “That’s the thanks I get for saving your ass—you leave me?”
“You saved me after you almost killed me during the ferry sinking. So, we’re even. And I would be right back. With a horse, I could do it in a couple hours at most. Before dark.”
“It will be dark in a half hour.”
“You think?” Luckman turned to glance at the horizon with a sinking feeling.
“I know.”
Luckman nodded, and he started in the direction of town at a trot. He kept on until the horse was having trouble seeing in the dark. If they’d had a moon, they might have made it but, as it was, it was more dangerous to keep going.
“Let’s stop,” Holtz pleaded.
They both dismounted, and both rubbed at the soreness with a sigh.
First thing in the morning they’d be at the border, Luckman told himself. They’d get help. Hopefully in time.
Chapter Six
New York
Michelle’s eyes felt like they were glued shut. The house’s loud creaking had woken her up and that was when she realized the fire had died…and with it, so had Mr. Chung.
“No,” she whispered looking at his open eyes that were aimlessly focused on the ceiling.
Frost coated everything, and Michelle was nearly frozen in place, but she managed to will herself to move. Just an inch at first. Then a few more. She would keep trying until her heart gave out because Bob was somewhere in this house and if he was like Mr. Chung, well, then she might give up then but….not a moment sooner.
She found that rising was harder than crawling and so she crawled towards the kitchen. Had she seen him last entering that room? Her thoughts were fuzzy. Michelle kept going but when she was partially through the door, knees sliding on the ice laid out like glass, she saw no one.
Donny, she thought. He’d be with Donny. Perhaps he thought they wouldn’t make it through the night. Maybe he thought it was best.
Michelle finally got to her feet, warmed slightly by her movement. How much time had passed? Why was the ice becoming so aggressive? Peculiar, that’s how she thought of it. Aggressive.
She found her steps awkward in the silence and the ground more slippery for her shoes than it had been for her knees. In the air before her, were little crystals of moisture floating like snowflakes. One gently landed on her face, and she touched the place, though it was too numb to sense the sensation.
She made it to the bedroom without falling and had to fight with the door to get it open. Bob was inside, on the bed, covered in a blanket of white crystal. Even some pieces hung from his brows, and nostrils, probably from the tears he must have been crying.
Donny looked like a frozen angle, at peace, though the red through the white was visible and a reminder of the savage way he’d been gunned down.
“Bob,” Michelle croaked, and her voice was too faded to hear so she cleared her throat and tried again. “Bob.”
Did he shudder ever so slightly? Was he alive?
“Bob!” she shouted suddenly into the stillness, too afraid for the void of possibilities to keep from losing her composure.
With a snap of ice, he turned his head and blinked at her, his face still full of unfathomable grief.
“We have to…” she started again because she had almost said “live”. “..start a fire.”
Did he nod? She thought he had, but then he rose to his feet and came carefully towards her. Together they held hands and nearly had to skate through the house back to the living room.
“Mr. Chung didn’t make it,” she whispered.
Bob glanced at her landlord sadly but immediately began working at putting wood into the chimney. Together, they shakily got a fire started with the flue shut. “Just until it burns well enough,” Bob said, and she agreed.
They held their hands up and warmed them enough to rise and move Mr. Chung’s body into the room with Donny.
Michelle went through it all mechanically. There was no way they were doing this, were they? This had to be a dream. Once more, they huddled back around the fire, each taking turns keeping it going.
“Once the sun is up, we need to try to make it to the city.”
“The truck…” Michelle said.
“Won’t be worth a damn. We have to go on foot.”
“You can’t be serious,” Michelle said.
“I have some skis. With the sun up we won’t freeze, but I think if we stay here…”
“We might.”
He nodded. “It’s twenty miles from here to downtown. I don’t see another choice. What if it’s colder tomorrow night? The night after?”
“Could be better across the bridge,” Michelle guessed his thoughts.
Bob nodded. “We should get on that side before this thing freezes us here and we can’t get out. Better get some shut eye.” Bob leaned down onto his side.
Michelle did the same but they both kept having to restoke the fire. Once they opened the flue because of smoke, it would go out after a time, and then they’d have to close it and start all over again. It was exhausting.
**
Michelle thought about sleeping but her anxiety had been too bad to do more than stress until morning. With the sun up, Bob pointed out that the freeze h
ad released its grip on them somewhat and it was time to move.
He brought out some old skis for both of them and he had extra winter clothing for them to layer until they were like two Michelin men at the front door, booted with skis. Michelle doubted this would work, but Bob got on top of the ice and showed her that it was actually possible. Lucky for her, as a child she’d spent many winters skiing with friends of the family and had been decent enough so that now she was not completely unable.
“It’s downhill to the end of my street and we are higher than the bridge so that should be easy.”
“Easy. Right.”
They began to pick their way down the street, and Michelle only fell once trying to get her bearings. They had packed enough food for the day, so they better make it there before dark. They knew food wasn’t the problem. If the sun went down while they tried this insanity, they’d freeze where they stood.
Bob found softer snow at the bottom of the first incline, and he began to whoosh down it, gliding side-to-side. He was impressive. Was there anything he couldn’t do?
Michelle tried to mimic him, but her legs were stiff from the night of laying on the hard ground, and she fumbled at first.
“Try not to think about the street or us going to the city!” he called back. “Pretend you’re on the slopes!”
That did it. Michelle was flying down now, so fast that she let the wind rush up and beat against her goggles, letting slip a moment of peace in the quiet neighborhood. But that thought led to another…how many people had even survived the cold night?
She risked a glance at the houses and because she did, she completely missed the lump of an overturned bike in her pathway. Michelle struck it at top speed and it launched her into the air. Face first she smacked into the hard ice and then she was still going, end-over-end.
Michelle landed in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the last hill and Bob rushed over, ripping his gloves and goggles off. “Oh, God! Are you, all right? Please be all right.”
Bob’s hands frantically felt for broken bones while she tried to answer. She gaped, reaching for air, until finally she said, “I’m okay.” And then, “I think.”
