by Hetzer, Paul
They still had several miles to walk to reach the peak of the mountain pass that opened up onto the Shenandoah Valley far below the mountains to the west, each step becoming an agonizing test of their fortitude as they fought the cold, pressing wind and deep drifting snow of the storm. They bundled a sleeping bag around Angela, who sat quivering on the sled and frosted white with the blowing snow. They also wrapped blankets over their own heads and shoulders and walked hunched-over and shivering, shuffling through the deepening snow. They now actually resembled the refugees of a post-apocalyptic world.
“I c-can’t f-feel my hands anymore,” Katy mumbled to Dontela with a cold-induced stutter. Dontela nodded in understanding, only her eyes visible through the fold in a wool blanket she had wrapped over her head and around her body. In front of them, Kera and Melody huddled together under a single blanket, barely able to lift their feet clear of the thickly accumulating snow. Steven trudged stoically ahead of the pack, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, pulling the heavily-laden toboggan behind him.
Kera knew that they needed to find shelter soon or they would die of hypothermia on the exposed mountainside. She also realized that Steven, in his single-minded quest to reunite with his son, would lumber on through this weather even if his legs turned to solid chunks of ice. They were passing a scenic overlook that normally looked down onto the valley below and now only offered a view of the thick blowing snow of the blizzard. There was nowhere she could see to seek shelter. On their right the high rocky cliffs of the highway cut were dripping with vertical sheets of ice, and to their left the mountainside dropped off precipitously to the valley below. The highway climbed before them into the impenetrable curtains of white snow. She guessed it was probably at least five miles back down the highway to the last house they had passed.
She shrugged out of the blanket, wrapped her end tightly around Melody, and slogged forward to catch up with Steven. He opened up his blanket to let her in when she sidled up to him and she gratefully slid in next to him, using a sock covered hand to help him pull the sleigh.
“This is bad,” she said above the restless whine of the wind.
He nodded his head. “I know. I was hoping it would have blown itself out by now.”
“We have to find some shelter. We’re going to freeze to death if we don’t get out of this wind soon.”
“I know, Kera,” he replied in frustration. “What do you want me to do? Conjure up a cave in the cliff, or a nice mountain lodge on the side of the road?”
“I don’t know,” she said angrily. “I only know that we’re freezing out here.”
Up ahead, a dark shape loomed out of the blinding whiteness, as they approached, taking the shape of a tractor-trailer rig that someone had long ago parked on the side of the highway.
“Can we get inside there? Get out of the weather for a while.” Anyplace, is better than being out in this wind.
“Okay!” Steven yelled at her over the howling gale.
The rear doors were locked so they stomped a path to the cab where the driver’s door stood ajar. Steven pulled the door open all the way and climbed up into the cab, peering into its interior to make sure there weren’t going to be any surprises. He pushed piles of snow off of the driver’s seat and then climbed back out into the storm and the closely huddled group of women. Leaving the toboggan wedged next to a tire, he helped the four women and the little girl cram into the cab and its sleeping compartment before climbing back up himself and slamming the door. The sound of the storm was instantly dampened and the biting wind was cut off. The interior of the truck’s cab was as cold as the inside of a walk-in freezer. On the other hand, at least they were free from the agonizing bite of the cold wind. Kera sat on the passenger seat while Dontela, Melody, and Katy were stuffed on the bunk with Angela huddled between them.
“We can only stay here a little while,” Steven told them.
“Do you think it will start?” Kera asked hopefully.
Steven shook his head. “The batteries are long dead. “We need to huddle up and share body heat. Try to thaw out some before we go back outside.”
“I think it’s mighty nice in here. I vote we stay until the storm is over,” Dontela said emphatically from the back.
“We can’t,” Steven replied. “There’s no insulation. If we get stuck here overnight and the temperatures drop any more than they are now, we’ll freeze to death.” He glanced back at their blanket wrapped bodies and at the gust of vapor that came from their mouths with each exhalation. He knew the dampness would condense on the inside of the cab and soon the walls would be thick with accumulating ice. “This is solely a stop to warm ourselves and gather our energy. If we don’t keep moving we will end up dying in here.”
He saw the fear in all their eyes. It was a fear of going back out into the painfully cold furry of the snowstorm.
“Shed some layers of clothes and cuddle together as close as possible, and wrap layers of blankets around you. It will help. Kera and I will stay up here.” It would have been impossible for the two of them to try and squeeze into the small space occupied by the other girls.
They shed jackets and sweaters and pushed their bodies as close together as possible, wrapping themselves with the shed pieces of clothing and blankets. As they shared the heat of each other’s bodies, their hands and feet began to lose their numbness, replaced with a tingling pain as the capillaries opened back up. Kera and Steven sat intertwined with each other on the passenger seat, massaging fingers and toes as the feeling returned to them. Angela was the least bothered by the cold or the thought of going back out into the blowing storm. She said she enjoyed riding on the sleigh.
The resiliency of kids, Steven laughed silently to himself.
By early afternoon, they had left the truck behind and were back into the storm, which seemed to be slowly losing its strength as the snow showers petered out to light flurries. The temperatures plummeted even further as the arctic cold front plunged south, so even as the wind decreased to the occasional gusts, the cold was again trying to seep its cold fingers deep into the core of their bodies. Kera walked beside Steven again, helping pull the toboggan up the steep snow-covered road. They methodically trudged further up the icy highway and within an hour could see the top where the interstate cut deeply through a wedge that looked like a giant hatchet had severed the steep ridge line. A bland, window-encased building perched upon the crest overlooked the highway and the valley to the east of the mountain.
“We’re stopping there,” Kera told Steven through chattering teeth, leaving no room for argument. He nodded in agreement, knowing that they had pushed as far as they could and they needed to rewarm their bodies. With evening approaching and the temperatures dropping, they would soon be suffering from frostbite and hypothermia if they didn’t find shelter before darkness overcame them. They unknowingly walked past the section of blacktop where less than a week before Jeremy had scrawled his message to his parents that was now lost to sight beneath close to ten inches of snow.
The cold, exhausted group scrambled up the steep slippery off-ramp that led to the Blue Ridge Parkway and the building that looked like it had once been a hotel and was abandoned long before the normal world had ended. When they reached the derelict hotel, they peeked in through the large glass windows of the reception area and saw that at least some of the furniture remained from when the hotel was a bustling starting point for travelers on their way down the parkway and the connecting Skyline Drive. Couches and chairs were arranged around a central chimney that housed an oversized fireplace open on two sides.
“Perfect,” Steven muttered upon seeing it.
Within minutes, they had broken through a window and gained access to the building’s interior. They busted up some of the wooden furniture and soon had a fire roaring in the fireplace, the bright, hot flames chasing the cold from their bodies. Night set in as the storm completely blew itself out and the sky cleared, revealing a plethora of stars in the co
ld blackness of the heavens.
Later that night, Steven and Kera crept passed the sleeping members of their party and out of the old hotel through the shattered front door. They stepped hand in hand onto the sparkling white snow that coated every surface with its muffled silence. They lay their sleeping bag down in the deep powder under the twinkling stars, stripped the clothes off of their warm, lean bodies, and slid into the bag’s soft insulated envelope. It was a tight fit even with their bodies pressed tightly together and Kera giggled as she nestled into the heat of his body, feeling the contrasting cold caressing her exposed back. She gasped as Steven slid into her and clung tightly to him while their bodies moved in a rhythm that kept pace with their passion. Their release came in a writhing fever of lust and they screamed their climaxes into the cold, clear night.
They slipped unseen and unnoticed back inside the hotel, naked and trembling from their exertions, carrying their clothes and holding the unzipped bag around them. They pressed themselves tightly together, their thirsts for each other’s body slaked for the time being. They lay on top of Kera’s sleeping bag which was warm from the fire and pulled the unzipped bag over them, falling into a deep, serene sleep.
The next morning, they woke to the bright autumn sun shining through the large picture windows that overlooked the valley below. To them, the world outside appeared crisp, clean, and bright with its thick layer of blinding white snow flocking every surface. Steven stirred the coals and built the fire up while they ate their meager rations and gathered in close to absorb the radiating heat from the growing flames.
“It’s all downhill from here,” Dontela remarked half-jokingly. She and Melody sat huddled together with Angela squeezed between them, eating granola from a bag.
“Do we have to go back out in that?” Katherine asked. She had never before been as cold as she had been while hiking up the mountain yesterday.
“It won’t be as bad today,” Kera replied. “As Dontela said, it’s all downhill.”
“Not as bad is still bad,” Katherine said with a grimace. She felt colder just thinking about being out in the snow. She had never been a fan of winter and much preferred the warmer southern climes this time of year.
“How about we all ride the toboggan down?” Dontela laughed.
“That would be fun!” Angela chimed in, brightening at the thought of a sled ride with all of them piled on.
Steven cuddled in closer to Kera with the sleeping bag wrapped around them. “We’ll find someplace warmer for tonight down in the valley. Find some better food also.”
Kera nodded in agreement. “It’s pretty up here and safe from the Loonies I imagine. But we’re not going to find much to eat or Steven’s son on the top of this mountain.”
They stayed for another hour until the sun was well up into the sky and water was dripping in a staccato of drops from the building’s roof as the temperatures climbed and the snow and ice began to melt.
Pulling the toboggan carrying their supplies and with Angela wrapped warmly in her bag and nestled in the curve of the toboggan’s front, Steven and Kera led the way down the slush covered highway toward the distant town of Waynesboro.
The Stryker pulled into the Armory compound followed closely by an up-armored Humvee. After the engines had been cut, the occupants poured out of the vehicles onto the parking lot. First Sergeant Shavers exited the Stryker last, smiling broadly from cheek to cheek.
“Good job, ladies and gentlemen!” he congratulated the team. After the disastrous missions earlier that week, it felt good to finally accomplish an operation in textbook fashion. They had raided the chemical plant in Waynesboro while successfully avoiding the swarms that roamed the area. They had gathered enough white phosphorus for the bombs that they could now begin planning operations against the crazies and hit them hard right where they lived. They had also posted signs along both Interstate’s 64 and 81 for any potential refugees that were travelling those routes, letting them know that there was safe refuge with plenty of supplies available for anyone seeking help. The signs directed the refugees to the Jefferson Highway exit off of 81 to an equipment warehouse that sat immediately off the road. It was a fenced-in compound that they had secured the previous morning. They had closed the gate without locking it and cleared the area surrounding the warehouse of any loose groups of crazies. As far as they could tell there were no large swarms nearby. It would be a safe area for any refugees to go to and wait for pickup if they so desired. They would send out a patrol daily to check the compound, which was a much better option than having an observation post at the 81/64 interchange manned most days during the daylight hours as they had done in the past. At some point they would install a battery operated communications system at the compound so refugees could contact them upon arrival and they wouldn’t have to send out a daily patrol to that area at all.
Jeremy and Sarah stood among the group. The injuries on their heads were healing swiftly, with only a small bandage showing where the scabbed-over wounds remained. Jumper stood next to Jeremy, wagging his tail at the attention he garnered from those around him. This was the first run that Jeremy had been able to take the dog along on. Shavers had okayed bringing him on the mission to be used for what Jeremy coined “the Loony detector”.
Spirits were high as they unloaded the heavy stainless steel containers that held the bricks of white phosphorus submerged in distilled water. Willy-Pete was a highly reactive compound that at room temperature and in the presence of oxygen would auto-ignite in a spectacular fashion. This was why it was employed extensively by the military in ordnance for use against enemy personnel. The burning flakes of white phosphorus would not only cause severe debilitating burns, it was also very toxic.
Heinlich oversaw the unloading of the Willy-Pete along with several canisters of carbon disulfide that they had liberated from the same plant. Shavers and McCully snaked a hose from a diesel fuel tanker truck to the Stryker and refueled it.
Sergeant Heinlich would be the one mixing the Willy-Pete with the carbon disulfide in the far corner of the parking lot, which was vacant of any vehicles and away from the living quarters. It was dangerous work, however, he had had the opportunity to do it once before in Iraq, so had some experience with the technique. The IED they were making was very simple. With the two compounds mixed together and stored in an airtight container it would be fairly stable. When the top was removed and the solution exposed to air the carbon disulfide would rapidly evaporate, forming a flammable mist, leaving the Willy-Pete all to its lonesome. Then poof! The compound would explode in a large burst of white-hot particles, sticking to any surface, especially the skin of crazies and instantly making crispy critters out of them. In an enclosed building and in the presence of the vaporized carbon disulfide, the expectation was for an impressive roof-lifting explosion of skin-searing heat. Heinlich smiled to himself at the thought of a warehouse full of the creatures burning in their own hell of sun-hot flame.
Upon finding the breeding grounds of the crazies and their accursed offspring, the 29th’s mission had changed. Now they were going to hit them where they lived, destroy their breeding grounds and as Shavers put it, “Stop this evil from inheriting the Earth”. Tomorrow would be their first test of this new paradigm. They would set up an observation post on a hill overlooking a large building that a moderate swarm was still nesting in. When the swarm of crazies left to do whatever fucked up shit those insane human animals did during the day, they would send a team in to clear the building and set up a tripwire mechanism so that when the crazies returned they would pop the top on the IED. About an hour later… boom! Toasted tangoes!
As the last of the chemicals were unloaded and moved to a storage container set up against the fence, the Sergeant felt his stomach rumble. It was dinner time and he was starving. Hopefully, whoever was duty cook for today had something warm and hearty put together. A cold wind blew through the compound causing him to shiver slightly. He glanced up at the sky and saw the dark clouds building
to the northwest. The weather was going to get nasty. It felt like snow in the crisp, cold air. He followed the last of the personnel into the armory.
Kyle Reese sat at one of the tables in the dining hall enjoying his last cigar. Smoke swirled up and around his head as he savored the aroma and taste of the Cohiba; he knew these were going to be rarer than a prostitute singing in a Catholic choir. He took another puff of the Cuban cigar and closed his eyes in pleasure. He had to get out and find a cigar shop. He may not be able to find another one of the Cubans in his lifetime, but he sure as shit could find an Arturo or Padron in one of the shops in this stinking town.
People began to pile in for dinner. The raw recruits, Pickeral, Ferguson, and Murchison were now dressed in the standard Army ACU’s after McCully had unearthed a cache of uniforms buried in the supply room of this dreary place. Hell, even the boy was dressed the part with the loose fitting pants and shirt that were cut for a small woman. Reese refused to put on an Army uniform. He was a Marine first, and would always be a Jarhead until they planted him in the ground. He would never wear a uniform of another service, especially the ones of these infantry grunts.
He agreed to play soldier with these part-time pukes and civilians because that was what he needed to do to survive. Of all the things the Marines had taught him, surviving was at the top of the stack. At least nowadays the enemy wasn’t shooting back at you, and although he missed a lot of the things from his Force Recon days in ‘Nam, the sound of bullets zinging past his ears wasn’t one of them. Yeah, he would play soldier with these boys and girls and maybe teach them a thing or two if they would pay attention for one damn minute. The First Sergeant wasn’t a bad apple though. He was turning into a damn fine leader. Hell, in his book anyone who could gather and hold this ragtag group of exiles together couldn’t be all that bad. Shavers still had some learning to do though. He had to figure out the hard way that he couldn’t use a lot of the tactics here that he had learned in the sandbox against the ragheads or even those he himself had learned fighting the gooks. The crazies were another league altogether. They didn’t follow protocols or tactics that the usual enemy employed; no, these bastards were running off of pure instinct and animal rage. They never fucking did what you expected them to do and that right there would bite you in the ass as hard as a police dog latching onto a fleeing felon.
