by AR Shaw
Walt huffed through the pain as best he could. A jolt tore through his thigh and continued down his leg as Yeager positioned him against the packs.
“Okay, okay, I think that will do. Are you all right?”
Grimacing, Walt glared at him, cutting his eyes up.
“Right…save your ammo for the wolves, Walt. They come in packs. Remember that.”
Shaking with residual throbs, Walt stared at the bonfire while Yeager pulled the child up next to Walt again and covered them with the blanket. Walt felt like a host for the girl as she stole his heat. At least he was some good to someone. She never uttered a word; she only wiggled in closer, causing him more pain. But it didn’t matter now. Once Walt was in position, Yeager handed him the weapon and ammo, making sure that everything was within his reach. Then he looked Walt straight in the face and nodded. It meant he was prepared to go. No words were necessary. He knew what to do then.
It was beyond twilight. Feeding time for the wolves. They were hunting now, and they knew where easy pickings were. Walt heard them in the distance and knew it was only a matter of time before they arrived. Walt lifted the rifle and checked his sights. He also had the flare gun nearby.
Yeager’s silhouette against the bonfire to the right of him, the log mounds covered in snow behind him—he knew they were children…the dead. One spent man guarding the injured youth against a pack of hungry wolves. That’s what he was. Nothing more. Walt, just a witness to it all. Who would live and who would die depended only on the cunning of man and of beast.
10 JAX
“We can’t get ahead of ourselves. Making it to Wallace is the first step before we even think about tackling Lookout Pass. It’s a six-hour bike ride by trail from here without the snowpocalypse,” Carl said. “I used to make that trip with the family in the summer on the trails.”
Summers were a distant memory for them all now. A glorious, resentful memory.
Austin cleared his throat in an attempt to keep them on track. “Okay. So, Wallace is our first destination. I’ve gone through there a few times. So, we just leave early in the morning, head out, and hope we make it there by nightfall, right?”
Jax held up his hand, interjecting silently. “Yes. We have the school buses retrofitted with tracks, like on a damn tank. We are lucky to have Mike, the mechanic from Yellowstone. He said that was the only way to get the kids to school in the winter there. We also have provisions and preps for our preps, but I’m telling you…it won’t be long before we are completely stripped of these luxuries. In these conditions, most will not survive. Please don’t underestimate that statement. We need to tell them, ‘You won’t survive this,’ before they get them on those buses with false hope.”
“That’s a pretty dire prediction, Jax. Why not give them some confidence before we head out?”
“Because I don’t believe in lying to people. That’s why. You give them the whole, hard truth and let them decide.” He looked into the eyes of the man across the table. “Carl, your daughter is better off where she is, wherever that is, and you probably would not survive the trip to meet up with her.
“Instead, you can stay here and help these people through this catastrophe. You can keep in radio contact with her for years when she makes it to the silo. That way, you both survive. Consider that an option, my friend. She’s eighteen. She’ll be sheltered, and she’ll be safe where she’s headed.”
This time, Carl cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Jax, we don’t even know if Rebecca or Walt or any of them are alive.”
Jax didn’t answer.
“Then don’t even begin to tell me what to do.”
“Just pointing out options for you…and getting you to state the obvious, Carl. We don’t know what we don’t know.”
Carl shook his head, suppressed anger just under the surface. “It’s not an option. Besides, you said this area was unsustainable for long.”
Austin again tried to inject diplomacy. “I see your point, Jax. Okay, so Carl, how long before the buses are ready?”
“Another week.”
“Jax, the human element?”
“Never ready for this. But they’ll board when we say to.”
“All right. So, one bus is full of provisions. One is full of equipment, such as snowmobiles, etcetera. And three buses full of humans. All retrofitted with snow tracks. We’re going to travel at a rate slower than bicycles on a rainy day.”
Jax slumped back in his chair. “You make it sound doable. I’m telling you that it’s a kindness to drill into them that they will all die. Every one of them. If they make it, it will be a frickin’ miracle. Understand me? That…needs to be the message.”
“Giving these parents hope is a bad thing? Are you sure about that?” Austin asked.
“Damn sure, in this case.”
Carl was silent through the exchange and then raised his hand. “I’d rather die trying. And I suspect that will be the sentiment of the rest, Jax. Why the hell are you going, anyway? Since you’re so against it. Why take the risk?”
After a contemplative moment, Jax cocked his head to the side. “I started this. I have nothing to lose, and staying here is suicide. Why not try?”
With a frustrated huff, Carl shook his head at Austin. “So, we’re damned either way?”
“Yes, we are. It’s only a game of who goes first. Isn’t that what life’s about anyway? Only now, the timeline is accelerated with the great frosty freeze.”
Carl rose with his coffee cup. “I’ve had enough. Got stuff to do. Until tomorrow, men.” He waved his good-bye and headed out of the office.
Raising his eyebrows at Jax, Austin let out a long, low breath.
“What?” Jax said.
“Can you lighten up a little, Jax?”
“No. I sure as hell cannot lighten up.” Then Jax picked up his coffee gingerly, guarding against squishing the sides of the thin paper cup enough to spill it.
As he left, Austin tapped his eraser against the yellow pad. “You should not be in charge of the people…”
Jax giggled a little as he left the room. “You’re damn lucky I am.”
11 BISHOP
“Look, dammit. I’ve had enough of you guys fighting. I’m going to throw both you jerks outside if it happens again,” Bishop said to the two guards who were glaring at one another across the locker room. He’d hoped that they’d gotten the fighting over a sweetly manipulative young lady out of their systems, but no such luck. “Either make a fricking deal with her, or I swear, I’ll send her away, too. Separate the three of you. Men…there are other women around. Is she really worth this? She’s playing you both. Are you aware she’s just doubling her chances of survival at your expense? Can’t you see that? I’m telling you, look at this at this objectively. Or else.”
“Bishop?”
When he turned toward the female voice from the hall, there Cassie stood. She was empty-handed but wore a look of hope on her face.
“What, Cassie?”
“I think I know a way.”
Those were the last words he expected to hear. “Really? What is it?”
That’s when she looked beyond him to the two men standing with shame in the locker room, surrounded by debris, articles of clothing, and benches on their sides. She raised her voice. “What in the hell are you two doing, now!”
Both guards jumped back a bit. They’d rather take Bishop’s wrath than hers, any day.
Putting up a hand to keep her from entering the room, Bishop said, “I’ve got it handled this time, Cassie.”
She glared at them both as Bishop held her back.
They were twice her size and yet visibly scared of her.
In a low and ominous voice, she said, “I will deal with you two later.”
Even though her comment was not directed at Bishop, a chill ran up his spine. Over her head, he looked back at the two young guards and thought, Poor bastards.
Turning on her heel, she headed into the main office then, and Bishop
followed her.
Turning around just as she entered the room, she said, “I think I know a way!”
Bishop was struck by her change in tone. Her voice held excitement at her discovery.
“Wait a second.” He pointed down the hall. “Just a second ago, you were willing to rip their throats out. Now you’re all excited to share this discovery with me?”
“Keep up, Bishop,” she said with a wry smile. “I didn’t find anything in his room, but I did find a memory. Garrett kept—”
“Who’s Garrett?” Bishop interrupted.
“Yeager.”
His mouth formed an O.
“We assume the SAT phones are down, destroyed, or whatever because nothing works. But he also had this little beacon on his backpack. You know…an aqua beacon…one divers use on their equipment.”
Bishop had heard enough and held up his hands. “Cassie, don’t get your hopes up. I know where you’re going with this. We’ve already tried various beacons. They don’t have a signal to track.”
“Yes, you’re right. The phones don’t, but that damn little aqua track logs your position every fifty miles. It was a security flaw. I’d mentioned it to him in passing once. He meant to remove it. There was a lawsuit a few years ago about Aqua Beacon’s website being hacked and the locations of all this specialized diving equipment being stolen. I think Garrett might have left the key chain on his backpack. It’s worth a try. We just need to get into his account on the website.”
“I don’t suppose you know his password?”
She shook her head, “But I do know a first-class hacker, and you’re not going to like it.”
“Who?” Bishop asked, furrowing his brow. He was afraid he already knew whom she was referring to, and she was right; he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
“Geller’s son.”
“Austin?” he asked, suddenly confused.
“No. The other one…the one you have in lockup.”
“Donovan, of course. The one with too much time on his hands. He’s a hacker. That makes perfect sense.”
She smiled at him. “I take it you don’t like him?”
“No, I don’t. Not even a little.”
“That’s a common sentiment. We need him. And he’s smart, so he’ll want to bargain for something in return.”
“You’re wrong there. He’s not smart. He’s greed ridden. There’s a difference, and he’s spoiled, and that makes him a liability. How do we know he can even pull up the website? The satellite could be down, for all we know.”
“Doesn’t matter. We have to try.”
Just the thought of having to deal with that narcissist made Bishop’s skin crawl. “Dammit.”
“Bishop, I know. He’s not the noblest of characters, but he’s all we’ve got for this particular job.”
“He’ll want to be released.”
“He’ll want more than that.”
“Cassie. He’s a conniving, lazy ass.”
“And he’s still all we’ve got for this job.”
“Fine!” Bishop said, slamming his fist into the wall. “Talk to him. Do not promise him anything but release with guard duty and chores—a lot of hard, labor-intensive chores. And he’s not allowed to have access to a computer once he’s given us what we want.”
She giggled.
“He pulls anything…he’ll be a dead conniving bastard. I mean it, Cassie. He’s dangerous. I can’t afford to have him corrupting these people. He can’t be trusted.”
She nodded, but she knew Donovan better than Bishop did, and his fears were her fears too—only more so—because bargaining with Donovan was like bargaining with the devil himself.
12 WALT
It was early twilight. Never before had the calming tone of the hazy gray sky filled him with dread. It was happening. The shrill cry of a nearby wolf had sounded the alert, and as much as he tried, Walt could not keep his heartbeat from rapidly increasing. After checking to feel the extra magazines stacked by his side, he looked up again to find Yeager looking back at him. Seeing if I’m alert and aware, he guessed.
The bonfire to the right of Yeager cast an eerie glow over the whimpering children. A few of the older girls were sitting up in front of the youngsters. They were covered with metallic blankets and awkwardly holding rifles. Yeager called out periodically, “Keep your eyes open. Don’t be afraid. They’re just looking for food. Doing what comes natural to them.”
He could say that all he wanted, but the reassurance did little to quell the girls’ fears, and Walt suspected the words only made things worse.
Beyond them, on the other side of the crash site, was what the wolves were drawn to. Bodies…burned bodies, flesh unburied. With the ground frozen, there was hardly any place to put them. The smell and attraction was unmistakable, and Yeager had tried burning them during the day. That much he knew, but it was hard to get the fire going hot enough to incinerate them. Really, the effort did nothing more than cook the flesh, creating a lot of smoke, an unendurable smell, and attracting more predators in the end. Getting through the night with their current numbers alive was their mission now. Relocating was next. That was their only way to survive this. They had no choice now. Three nights of this, and the threat of having wolves pull the remaining bodies away to gnaw on them was enough to drive the living insane. As of yet, bears had not discovered them, but they would soon…very soon, Walt feared.
Suddenly, there was a low, ominous growl, and one of the girls on the edge of their encampment shot up to a standing position. She screamed and brought the rifle forward, her body leaning back with the weight. Yeager ran to her, but he didn’t see another dark canine shifting out quickly behind him. Both he and the girl fired at something in the dark. Their bright-red muzzles flashed, and a yelping whimper replaced the growl.
Walt watched the canine shadow slink in behind them, crouched low. From his position on the ground, his line of site was negligible. “Yeager! Behind you!” he yelled, but the sound of his voice was lost among the screams of children and gunfire. “Dammit!” he yelled again. With the fire his only light to see by, he rammed the hilt of his rifle into the snow and leaned on it to push himself up. Agony shot through him. His entire body shook as he finally bore his weight on his right leg, the other in the hare splint. Awkwardly, he balanced precariously, drawing the weapon up and sought the target. It was low to the ground and just five feet from Yeager’s back. The wolf crept forward, ready to launch a cowardly attack.
Walt knew it was likely that he’d hit Yeager at the same time, but he had to take the chance. Left with no choice as the predator began to move, Walt fired.
Yeager turned just as the animal leaped upon him. One shot was not enough. Children screamed in panic as infants wailed. Walt was too far away to get to him in time. Yeager was on the ground then, his rifle knocked out of his reach. “Yeager!” Walt yelled desperate, to help him somehow.
It was the teenage girl next to Yeager who took action. As if on autopilot, she pulled a knife from Yeager’s waist as the wolf attacked, pulling at his flesh with great tugs. With both hands, she raised the weapon high and plunged the blade into the wolf’s back with all her force, again and again. Her hat flew off in the commotion. Her long, straight, black hair cascaded around her.
Her momentum continued past its due, and finally Yeager caught her arms on the downswing. Walt couldn’t hear what Yeager told the girl, but he assumed it was something like you did it. Or that’s enough.
Then, holding the wolf by his hide, Yeager threw the menace to his side in the snow.
He sat up. The girl, still holding the knife, shook with sobs as she collapsed to her knees. Yeager took the blade from her, patted her on the back, and then dragged himself to a standing position. He pulled her into an embrace, though it was short-lived.
Another wave of wolf cries echoed around them, just beyond their line of sight in the darkness. Yeager pulled the girl behind him as he and Walt shot into the darkness again.
“Enough
of this!” Walt yelled. He reached down and grabbed the flare gun. Instead of shooting up, he aimed directly in front of them, into the night. On ignition, the darkness lit up to a bright red, revealing at least twenty wolves, though Walt had no time to count them. Dark shadows scattered. They heard yelps, cries, and howls. Enough were present to cause a panic—more now than ever. They were here to finish them off one by one, their numbers greater than Yeager and Walt had anticipated.
In the fading red light, Walt and Yeager took the opportunity to pick off as many as they could. Then the brave teen girl took up her rifle again and fired to the best of her ability.
“Don’t waste your ammo, Rebecca,” Yeager yelled. “Only take a clean shot.”
Then there were no shots at all. The dim light receded too soon. His entire body shaking, Walt had no choice but to sit down again. In his mind’s eye, as soon as that darkness fell, the wolves would take the advantage and retrace their steps. They would slink back to their previous positions or even come closer. The guns had pushed them back into the night a ways, but they were coming again already…on a relentless stalk.
Humans were the hunted now. They were the prey, and surviving the predators would take, Walt feared, their very souls.
13 JAX
Set to leave by morning light was a distinctly benign descriptive these days. Jax had barely slept that night. He officially rose at four in the morning, according to his old-fashioned analog wristwatch. He packed the last of his gear, rolled up his bedroll, and tied the bundle to his rucksack. For some reason, he intently made note of each tie that his fingers made by the lamp glow. He turned to look around the space he’d occupied with his horses for the last several weeks. There was something remarkable about the moment. Something about that signified an end of this particular phase of his life. He would never again see Coeur d’Alene or the Kootenai Forest that had become a harbor from the pain of his past.
His departure from this place that had sustained him for many years after living through the mental trauma meant something. He could stay here…in the forest. He could die here…would probably die soon. Of that, he was sure. Going, leading these sheep—these utterly useless and helpless people—was what he knew he should do. It’s what he had to do now. Though he wasn’t looking forward to the journey, his mind was made up. “Either die here or die there, trying,” he whispered. Never one to give up, Jax had made up his mind. He would keep trying. He had no choice. That’s just how he was made.
