Forever Winter Box Set (Books 1 - 4): A Future Dystopian Survival Series Adventure

by KM Fortune

  Kneeling at his side, she stared into his face and waited. The leader’s breathing was regular and slow. He did not move, but still Kit waited. Something did not feel right and she hesitated even though the knife was easily within grasp. The weapon’s handle gleamed in the firelight, the orange and red reflecting brilliantly off of the polished bone. Finally, holding her breath, Kit reached out and pinched the end carefully between her thumb and index finger. She never took her eyes of the sleeping cat mutant’s face as she ever so slowly pulled the dagger free of his belt. The beast did not move and Kit exhaled silently, holding the prize in her hand. Rising up, she moved away from the leader and was a step from disappearing into the night when the cat mutant’s paw-like hand shot out and grabbed her around the ankle.

  Kit let out an involuntary yelp of surprise. Looking down, she saw the beast’s claw dig into her boot and yank her off balance. Flopping hard onto her back, she looked to see the cat mutant staring at her from where he had feigned sleep. With a grin and a growl, the beast dropped her ankle as he leaped up and came after her. Kit had a moment to react and rolled away toward the fire at the center of the camp and out of the path of the cat mutant’s pounce. The mutant saw her trying to slip to the side and reached out, claws extended, and hooked the edge of her cloak. Kit swiped out with the knife she had just stolen and slicing a deep groove across the back of the cat mutant’s paw. The beast let out a yowl of pain and let go.

  Kit was on her feet instantly and looking for a direction to run. The other two mutants were awake now, reacting to the noise and hissing with rage when they saw her. “Catch her, you idiots,” the cat mutant yelled, holding his nearly severed paw against his chest. “She’s a thief!” The other mutants reacted slowly, still drunk from the liquor, but one came rushing at her. Kit had no place to turn. The fire was at her back and the Rat Mutant blocked her way forward. Without hesitation, she turned to the fire and grabbed a flaming log. The embers burned her hand and she cried out, but did not let go until she flung the burning mass at the on-rushing Rat Mutant. The log hit him in the chest and, with fur on fire, he reeled back, yowling in pain. Kit bolted past him.

  The second Rat Mutant ran after her, trying to cut off her path. Kit veered right, but knew she could not outrun the beast and slipped her good hand under her cloak. At the end of a leather strap was a metal throwing star. With nimble fingers, she freed the razor sharp weapon and in mid stride, let the deadly object go with a practiced flick of her wrist. The mutant never saw the spinning projectile. It struck him in the throat. One moment he was running after her, the next he was in a pile on the ground. Kit continued to run and did not look back. The firelight faded behind her and she vanished into the shadow filled world of the plains.

  The cat mutant watched her disappear. Even with his enhanced night vision, she was lost from sight in a matter of seconds. He let out a roar of frustration and looked down at his paw. Blood matted the fur and he could see the shine of bone. He knew he would be lucky if he could ever use it again. Behind him, the scorched mutant continued to whimper and yelp in pain. Furious, the leader could not stand the cowling and turned toward where he had slept, eager to take up his rifle and shoot the crying beast. It was then he noticed their weapons were gone. He roared again.

  CHAPTER 3

  RAVEN WAS IN BED, SNUGGLED down and cozy, sleeping in on a lazy Saturday morning. It felt so good. She knew that soon Maggie, her six-month-old Shepherd pup, would come bouncing into the bedroom and make a swan dive onto the bed. As always, Raven would scold her, but not really mean it in her heart. Maggie knew she was not really in trouble and would proceed in trying to burrow under the covers where it was warm. It feels so good to be home, Raven thought, still drifting in and out of sleep. So good to be where I am loved. She smiled, eyes still shut and rolled over to go back to sleep for a few more minutes. When she did, she felt a little wetness on the pillow.

  What is this? Raven thought. Did Maggie have an accident on the bed? She opened her eyes. The room was dark, but for a few hints of natural light coming in from above. A drop of water fell from the ceiling and landed on her cheek. It was very cold. Raven sat up. This was not her bedroom. The room was dusty and smelled of rot. She looked up and saw a gaping hole in the roof above her. Snow fringed the edge of the opening, melting slowly, dripping down into the room. Raven rubbed her eyes and tried to straighten out her thoughts. Where am I? Where’s Maggie?

  She felt around the side of the bed looking for a lamp, but there was none. No nightstand. Nothing. Frustrated, she started to pat the bed, looking for Maggie, looking for anything familiar. Her hand grazed a lump and she paused. “Maggie?” she whispered, waiting for an answering snuffle, but she already knew this lump wasn’t Maggie. It was too cold and too soft. Not wanting to look closer, but being unable to stop herself either, Raven leaned toward the lump beside her and let her eyes focus in the dark. After a moment, she realized she was face-to-face with something horrible. She was looking into the eyes of a mummified corpse.

  Raven screamed and scrambled backward off the bed. Her butt hit the floor. For some reason the bed was not on a frame and debris was everywhere. Stifling a second scream, she backed up carefully into the single ray of faint daylight which fell into the room and looked up. The hole was far above her, high on the gabled roof. She could not reach it, even if she jumped. She turned and looked all around her. Most of the room was in shadow, but she could make out shapes. There was part of a dresser and mirror, now smashed and leaning limply against the wall. An armchair toppled onto its back and ratted where some creatures had burrowed into it. She looked and saw wooden timbers which made up the walls and floor. I’m in some sort of cabin, she thought. But how?

  She glanced up at the hole in the roof above her again. I fell, she remembered vaguely, but then what? She saw the bed or at least what used to be one. Her crashing down on it appeared to have smashed its old frame to the floor. The mattress and covers, which looked to have been yellow with flowers once, were now nothing more than a tattered mess of dust and animal nests. Raven made a face at the thought of her lying there all night and dreaming of being home. Not to mention sleeping next to human remains. She shuddered and turned away from the bed, looking around at the shadows. Why is there no light from the windows, she wondered, confused by the bit of light coming in through the roof, but not from anyplace else. Raven stood up and walked carefully over to the wall and pulled the sagging drapes back from a window. The glass was dark and ice cold to her touch. She wiped away some of the dirt built up on the surface and put her face up next to the glass. Why is it so dark? she puzzled and then it dawned on her. The window was covered with snow. The cabin was buried and that was how she happened to fall into it from above. She walked across the roof in the dusk and after all this time, the wood beams gave way.

  Suddenly a cramp twisted her stomach and she bent over with a groan. Now that the initial shock of this latest twist had subsided, she was feeling the effects of the three days of walking on her exhausted and starving body. The pain passed, but she still felt light headed. I really need something to eat. Anything! Stumbling over the pile of fallen timbers from the ceiling and the bits of broken furniture, she started searching the dark room.

  It was soon obvious to her, at some time, maybe decades before she crashed through the roof last night, the cabin had been ransacked and looted for any possible bit of food or valuables. Very little remained and what had survived was broken. There was not much to the cabin either. A couple of doorways were hidden in the shadows. When Raven investigated the first, she found it led to a horribly wrecked and grossly vandalized bathroom. The space was trashed and the smell was overwhelming after even a minute.

  Another cramp bent her over as she turned away from the bathroom. Bright lights popped behind her eyes and she had to grab the doorframe to keep from fainting to the floor. She breathed slowly between clenched teeth. After a couple minutes, the cramp passed, but a feeling of complete helplessness remained.
Through everything which had happened, she tried to stay strong, but she knew she would not survive without food and water. All I need is something to eat, she thought. A little food, a little water, and I can get through this.

  She looked to the other doorway across the room. The space behind it was even darker than the rest of the cabin. Could it be a kitchenette? Her knees nearly buckled when she realized it must be. Food, her mind screamed, sending a reawakening clench of pain through her stomach. Please, let there be food.

  Stepping carefully around the trash in the room, she went to stand in the doorway of the kitchen. Even in the dim light, Raven saw the room was in worse condition than the rest of the cabin. Other people or creatures before her had savagely hunted through this room for whatever food it might contain. Not willing to give up hope yet, Raven determinedly pushed through the tattered debris on the floor and pulled open a cupboard. The door, barely hanging on, tore off in her hand, and clattered to the floor. Raven ignored the crash and looked inside at the shelves. Empty. With a cry of frustration, she turned to another, but it too had long ago been looted. Frantic now, Raven tore at all the drawers and ran her hands over the bare shelves in the pantry. There was nothing there, not even a crumb.

  With a sob, Raven sank to the floor, her strength gone as her last hope vanished. Hunger cramped her stomach, but even it was beginning to fade compared to the despair washing over her. Lying there in the garbage on the floor, Raven rested her head on the ground and tried to cry. Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but did not fall. I’m too tired and thirsty to even cry, she thought. With a sigh of resignation, Raven turned her head to a more comfortable angle and waited to fall asleep forever. She stared straight ahead, seeing nothing in the dim light. Slowly her eyes adjusted and she began to make out shapes. Bits of glass, some shredded paper, and rat droppings. For a second she considered trying to find the rat and the idea actually made her smile a little. I am in no condition to try and chase down a rat. Not to mention I have no clue how old the droppings are. From their petrified looking state, she figured the rat had not been in the kitchen recently.

  There were lots of other items on the floor too. A bent fork. What looked like an old sock. A dozen or more pieces of broken pottery. A large dented stew pot. There was even the relic of a trashed microwave someone had smashed against the wall. All of it parts of a mosaic from a time which died long ago. All so sad, she thought, preparing to close her eyes to be done. Then she saw something else. Raven blinked and tried to get her eyes to adjust to the shadows along the floor. Under the overhang caused by the cupboards and the sink, she noticed something else which looked familiar. She squinted hard, finally recognized what it was. A tin can. The label was partially torn away, but it was still definitely a tin can. Slowly, as if the image might vanish if she rushed, Raven extended her hand and reached for the metal object. It tried to roll away from her when she touched the surface, but she grabbed it and felt from the weight the can was not empty. Bringing it to her face, she read what the label said. GENEX Homestyle Baked Beans - From the mother’s lab to your children’s table. Guaranteed Fresh Forever!

  THE TASK OF OPENING the can took almost all her strength and will, but once she realized it was real and not a hallucination of her hunger, she would not give up. There was not a can opener she could see in the debris and finally she had taken a piece of a broken panhandle to it. Drool running unnoticed from the corner of her mouth, she punctured enough holes in the top of the can to bend back the lid and shake out what was inside.

  Eating a few bites of the beans nearly made her vomit, their sudden sweetness and flavor cramping her stomach. Raven fought to keep the food down, praying the reaction was only because it had been almost four days since she ate real food and not because the canned beans were spoiled. Even though they were probably generations old, they had smelled fine, delicious actually, and Raven doubted she could have kept herself from eating them even if they appeared to be rancid. Now she lay in a ball on the main room’s floor, clenching her knees to her chest and waited for the cramps to pass. Some light still slanted in through the hole in the roof, but it was fading as the sun set to the west. She had at least been smart enough to take the now empty and licked clean tin can and put the thing under the edge of the hole. The snow slowly melted and dripped down into the room. The water made a plinking noise as it hit the insides of the can.

  She had also gotten up the nerve to pull the ragged covers from the bed. The movement caused the corpse to roll and tumble back off the mattress and into the space between the bed and the wall. Having it out of her sight felt better to Raven somehow. Now she was rolled up in the musty blankets, trying to absorb even the slightest bit of fleeting warmth from the dying daylight, and waiting for her stomach to decide if it was going to accept the beans after all or not. She clenched her teeth and willed herself to fall asleep, hoping, with food in her stomach and even a partial roof over her head, the morning would bring a better day.

  CHAPTER 4

  MATTHEW SAT ON THE edge of his bed in his small chambers and listened to the men tear apart his laboratory. They were looking for information about the female. About Raven, he thought and wondered again if she was still alive. It was a week since he helped her escape from the colony of Eden. The world beyond the thick walls of the ex-United States military research facility was harsh and full of extreme danger. Matthew prayed for her safety, even though he knew he was damning his soul to do it. He had stopped worrying about his soul by now though. Samuel, his primary keeper since Matthew made his decision to help Raven, reminded him regularly he was doomed. Word apparently had spread among the colony as well because no one looked him in the eye now. When they went to prayer in the Gathering Chamber, his brothers no longer sat near him. Only Samuel. Matthew did not blame them. In their eyes, he was a marked man, tricked by the devil to do what was forbidden for generations. He let a woman go free.

  Matthew heard a crash from his laboratory and winced. It was obvious the men sent up from the Patrols were not being careful while they searched. I guess it doesn’t matter, he thought. I will never work in there again. Samuel made it very clear Matthew would no longer be a part of the science corps elite. Considering Matthew was cloned with only science and math skills in his genetic design, he was not sure exactly what they would do with him now. It was not like the residents of the colony, each made to be the best at one skillset only, were interchangeable. The engineering behind it was flawed enough as it was. Perhaps I will be terminated. It was not the first time this idea crossed his mind, but the colony had strict rules around killing. It was a high sin, as was any violence between brothers, unless the person was damaged and no longer an asset to Eden. In his thinking, if he could no longer perform research on ways to overcome the sterility plague, there was no point in keeping him alive. The idea of dying frightened him a little though. If Samuel and the others were right, he would go to hell and live for eternity in utter torment. Was she worth it? Matthew contemplated the question. Samuel asked him often why he had done it. He had yet to give the other man an honest answer. It would surely sign his death warrant to admit the feelings in his heart. The answer was simple. He had helped her because he loved her.

  The door to Matthew’s chambers opened and Samuel walked in. He glared at Matthew. “Where are your research files on the female specimen?” he asked. “They are not in the lab.” Matthew shrugged. He could have told them so hours ago.

  “I destroyed them. I erased the drives,” he said. “There is nothing left to even prove she was here.”

  Samuel’s face grew red. “Why would you do that?” he asked.

  “The files held no useful information. There was nothing there to advance our research. I never sampled her reproductive organs and I can’t say if she was fertile or not. Although I hypothesize she was, considering I was able to talk to her and determine when she was last alive. It was definitely before the onset of the sterility plague,” he explained.

  Samuel
started to say something, but then snapped his mouth shut. Matthew almost smiled. He knew the other man hated to talk about things like Raven communicating and being intelligent enough to remember facts. In Samuel’s world, women were lowly creatures of no use and especially no intellect. Up until a month ago, Matthew would have agreed with him. Raven showed him otherwise. Matthew suddenly had a thought. What if all the women outside the colony, who hide on the plains and struggle to survive, are intelligent creatures too? Before he could puzzle on it further, Samuel interrupted his thoughts.