by James Hunt
“I’m sorry, but there really isn’t anything else we can do except keep an eye on her and pray that the new strain of antibiotics we’re giving her through the IV will knock out the infection. Some of her ribs were bruised during CPR, but I’ve wrapped them tight. If she needs any pain relief just flag down one of the nurses.” He stepped away from the two men. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to make my rounds.”
Mark and Rodney watched the doctor disappear into the darkness of the hallway, his shadow lingering behind him because of the flickering candles that provided light.
“Mark,” Rodney said, his voice soft. “I know the doctor wants us to stay—”
“I’m not moving her,” Mark said, his eyes still lingering on where the doctor had disappeared. “I’m not going to risk making her sick again.”
“If we stay, we’ll have bigger problems than your daughter’s infection.” Rodney stepped directly in front of Mark, blocking his view of the dark hallway. “This place is running on fumes. They’re running out of food, they’re running out of medicine, and once that storm hits and snows everyone in, this place is going to explode in a powder keg.”
“What am I supposed to do?” Mark spun around, asking the question more to himself than Rodney.
“We let her rest for another hour to see if the new medicine is working, and if it is, then we take enough to run it out of her system, and then we leave.” Rodney held both of his hands up and together in front him as if he were praying. “It’s our best chance.”
“She almost died!” Mark lunged at him, thrusting his finger toward the room where Holly still lay, fighting for her life. “You don’t have kids, so I don’t expect you to understand, but that girl is everything to me.” His words lingered in the air for a minute, and once the flash of anger subsided, he sat down. He rubbed his face, feeling the growing stubble along his cheeks and chin and neck. “I know that she would already be dead if it wasn’t for you.” He looked at Rodney. “You saved her life.”
“I just got her here,” Rodney said, taking a seat next to Mark. “The doctor saved her life.”
“No,” Mark replied. “It was you.” He leaned back, exhaling. “You’ve saved our asses so many times since New York that I’ve lost count. And Glen and Laura are alive because of you too.” He watched the back of Rodney’s head as the boy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I owe you my life ten times over.”
Rodney shook his head. “You shouldn’t say that.”
“Why not?” Mark asked. “It’s true.”
Rodney turned to face him, and even in the dark, Mark saw the redness in his eyes. “I almost left you guys. Back in the city. I made it halfway down the stairwell before I turned around. I didn’t want to take you, and the only reason I did was the hope that one of you would have a skill set that I didn’t.”
“Well, you struck out there.” Mark smiled, and Rodney laughed, wiping his nose. “Look, it doesn’t matter what you thought about doing.” He rested his hand on Rodney’s shoulder. “It’s what you did.”
Rodney nodded. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”
“I know I’m right.” Mark patted the boy on the back and then stood, his knees and hips popping, making him a decade older. The hiking was catching up with him. So was the cold. He could see his breath even inside the hospital. He walked to the entrance of Holly’s room and watched her from the hallway.
“When you have kids, you want to protect them from everything,” Mark said. “It’s a duty that you wear like a badge of honor. When you first hold them in your arms, you have such high hopes. You want to give them everything you didn’t have, and you want them to surpass everything you’ve become.” He focused on the light rise and fall of her chest then watched her little hand twitch as she slept. He looked up at one of the plastic casings that housed the halogen lights that no longer worked. “So what are they supposed to do now in a world like this?”
“Survive,” Rodney said. “That’s what they’ll do.” He stood. “That’s what we’ll all do.”
“Yeah.” Mark followed the needle of the IV that ran into Holly’s arm up to the bag that slowly dripped the medicine into her body. “One hour. We can leave then.”
Rodney’s eyes widened. “You’re sure?”
“You’ve been right about everything so far. Despite me not wanting you to be.” He turned to Rodney with a sad smile. “You really think that right now our best chance is to head to the cabin?”
“Yes.”
There was no hesitation in the young man’s voice, and Mark rubbed his eyes. “Then we go.”
“I’ll tell Glen and Laura then track down that doctor to get some more medicine.”
After Rodney left, Mark just stared at Holly from the doorway. He was hesitant to enter, afraid that his presence inside might somehow disturb her rest. Two voices caught Mark’s attention, and he turned and found two nurses chatting with one another, both of them wearing expressions of worry.
“I told you I already checked.”
“And you’re sure?”
“Yes, less than two cases are left.”
The shorter of the pair of nurses placed her hand on her forehead as they passed Mark, and he turned to follow their conversation.
“That’s not enough water. That’s nowhere near enough.”
“I know. I don’t know what we’re going to do!”
The pair disappeared into the darkness, and sourness formed in the pit of his stomach. He thought of the powder keg that Rodney had mentioned, and he ticked another tally on the young man’s side of the scoreboard.
Outside, the wind had started to howl, drowning out some of the crying from the other rooms. It was a wicked, harrowing sound. Almost worse than the woman screaming for the doctors to give her child back to her.
The map was spread over the kitchen table, the corners weighted down with half-filled liquor bottles. Dennis stood over the map, arms crossed, tapping a black marker against his shoulder. Everyone but Mulls and Jimmy had returned. They stood behind him, still knocking the ice and snow from their clothes and onto the authentic wood flooring of the house.
Numbers were written near each of the dots that represented the nearby towns: 39, 86, 309, and 55 respectively. He stared at those dots with hunger drilled into the pit of his stomach.
“You’re sure there weren’t any cops?” Dennis asked, his eyes still glued to the map.
“Nah, we didn’t see anything.”
“Nope.”
“No stations at least, but we couldn’t check the whole town without looking suspicious.”
Dennis nodded to himself. He set the marker down and turned to the inmates. Looking at them standing there, waiting for him to speak, he suddenly felt the ludicrous idea that he was their warden. He repressed the smile, and they parted as he stepped between them.
A desk with rifles and handguns was behind them, and Dennis had his eyes on the shotgun. It was a twelve-gauge pump action with a pistol grip for better ease of use. He picked it up and opened the chamber. It was loaded. “And they’re all still scrambling to try and figure out what’s going on?”
“There were a few people in the town that we scouted that were trying to form a committee.”
“Yeah, ours too.”
“We didn’t hear anything in ours.”
“There were a couple people talking about how to get the power back on.”
Dennis nodded, smiling to himself, and then slammed the chamber of the weapon closed. He turned, shotgun still in hand, and eyed the men that had returned to him. “We need to move quickly then. The more time we give them to prepare or get a grip on things, the harder it will be for us to take what we want.” He stepped through the inmates again, heading back to the map, this time pulling the inmates with him toward the table. “The closest power station is fifty miles to the south. The odds of getting that back up and running, or even getting to it at all, are slim. Anyone dumb enough to make the trip will die before they get there.�
�� He picked up the marker, flicking off the cap with his thumb, and kept the shotgun gripped in his other hand. He marked three spots on the map. “Hardware store, sporting goods store, and grocery. That’s where we’ll find what we need.” He turned to everyone. “Get a piece of paper and something to write with. Everyone’s making a list.”
The group looked at each other confusedly for a moment but slowly dispersed in search of the equipment while Dennis eyed the map. He’d used some of the local flyers down at the police station and town welcome center to learn the location of those stores. And it turned out that the sweet thing he kept upstairs was a local girl. All it took was the promise of being left alone for a night to get her to spill the beans. He still hadn’t decided if he was going to keep good on that promise, though.
The inmates returned with their paper and writing utensils, which ranged from pens to crayons. Dennis leaned the shotgun against his shoulder and rested his ass against the table. “Generators, skis, gas cans, fuel, hunting knives, fishing gear, bows and arrows…” He rattled off dozens of other items, trying to be as specific as possible so that the simple-minded, narrow-viewed cretins could handle it. “As far as food goes, anything canned or packaged is what you want. The sporting goods store might have some survivalist meals. If it says MRE on it, then take it.”
All heads were down as the inmates tried their best to keep up with his instructions. He couldn’t imagine what the spelling on those lists looked like. Once he was finished, he repeated the list again, and just as much writing happened as the first round. But he hammered home a few of the more big-ticket items like diesel generators, fuel, and power cords. If he could just get a few houses running with heat, they’d be in a good spot.
“And the last item on the list, which I don’t think needs to even be written down, are guns.” Dennis tilted the shotgun off his shoulder, and it landed in his right palm with a smack. “Guns and ammo, as much as you can find. Eventually, other people are going to be doing what we’re doing, and if they come knocking on our door, I want to make sure we have enough bullets to kill them ten times over.”
Chuckles and nods greeted Dennis as the inmates looked up from their lists.
“We do have one roadblock now, and it could be a big one.” Dennis smacked his finger on a small location off the highway. “There’s a state trooper station ten miles to the north of us. I doubt they’ll be making their way to our sleepy little corner anytime soon, but I don’t want to take any chances. Our next order of business after we get the supplies we’re looking for and take those towns is to take out those pigs.”
“Yeah!” Fists thrust into the air and then pounded cabinets and walls.
Dennis waited for the ruckus to die down before he spoke but didn’t do anything to hurry them along. He wanted them to remain angry. He wanted them focused. So long as he kept feeding into that hate, they’d love him, and he needed that to stay in control.
“We kill all of them,” Dennis said. “No surviv—”
The door burst open, and Mulls and Jimmy burst inside, bringing a gust of cold wind with them as they shook off the snow. They stomped out the frost and snow on their legs and brushed it from their arms.
“Christ’s dick, it’s cold outside,” Jimmy said, squealing. “Looks like there’s a bad storm coming down this way. Did you guys—”
“What’d you find?” Dennis asked, his voice cold like the weather the two men had brought back with them.
Mulls stepped in front of Jimmy before he could open his mouth. “The town wasn’t more than a few buildings. Whoever had been there was gone. We did find something useful, though.”
“What?” Dennis asked.
“A hospital,” Jimmy answered, poking his head up from behind Mulls.
“It’s a small one, but it’s close by.” Mulls walked to the map and pointed it out off the highway. “Right there.”
Medicine was just as valuable as food now. And Dennis imagined it would be a good bartering tool in the days to come. He didn’t want to pass the opportunity up.
Dennis clapped Mulls on the shoulder and nodded toward Jimmy. “Good work.” He turned to the rest of the group. “I want everyone ready to roll out in the next twenty minutes. We can get to the hospital and back before dark. Gather up as many sacks and boxes as you can carry.” He circled the spot on the map where Mulls had pointed. “We’re going to do a little shopping.”
12
The wind kicked up, and the sky darkened with a more sinister blanket of dark-grey clouds. Kate planted the ski pole in her left hand shakily in the ground. The cord tied around her waist that connected her to Luke’s sled was taut. The momentum from the beginning of her trip had ended once she was forced to turn off the main highway and travel the backroads to the cabin.
Kate hunched over, using the poles to keep herself from face-planting into the snow. She turned back to Luke and saw that her son was covered in a layer of fresh snow. He lay there lifeless, and she was unsure if he was still breathing.
The thought of dragging her son’s lifeless carcass triggered an involuntary scream that quickly cut out and transformed into a sob. She collapsed to her knees, gulping deep breaths of icy air that burned her lungs.
Kate shut her eyes. He was alive. She knew he was. She just had to get him to the cabin before the storm worsened. She took a deep breath and then pushed herself up from the snow. Her legs trembled in the skis. She pulled herself forward then planted the pole in her left hand into the ground then repeated the action with the right one.
She had already followed the road off the highway as far as it would go, and now she trekked through the woods, in search of a cabin that was somewhere in the wilderness of upstate New York where she had never been.
More and more thoughts of Holly and Mark filled her head, and Kate focused on them to distract herself from the cold. The strands of hair that protruded from her beanie were frozen stiff. And while she couldn’t see herself, she was convinced that she had turned a shade of blue.
Holly’s laughter drifted through her mind, and she smiled as she watched Mark lift her off the ground. Her daughter was four, and they had taken a trip to the beach. Kate had a rare few days off, so they rented a beach house. It was the start of summer, so Luke wasn’t in school, though he was nervous and anxious about going back. He was about to start high school.
It was three days of nothing but beautiful weather on the golden coast, and Kate remembered thinking that they could live there. She even so much as brought it up to Mark on the second day.
“Really?” he asked, his tone laced with a mixture of surprise, excitement, and skepticism. “You think you could get a permanent gig here with the airline?”
“It’s possible,” Kate answered, watching Holly bury Luke in the sand. She leaned into him, and even in the frigid winds of the north, she remembered the warmth of the sun on his skin. “I think it would be good for the kids. I know Luke’s tired of having to switch schools every couple years, and it might actually give him a chance to make friends in high school.”
“I think that would be great,” Mark said. “You really want to give it a try?”
“Yeah,” Kate answered, lifting her face toward his. “Let’s do it.”
But the memory faded, and suddenly, all those good feelings disappeared with it. When Kate went to make the request, she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Kate had moved around so much because she felt a lingering restlessness about what happened with Dennis. And back then she still hadn’t rid herself of his memory. It wasn’t until a few years ago that the nightmares finally stopped.
And now those men back on that road had mentioned a man named Dennis. They looked shady enough to be from prison. And she was in Dennis’s territory. Could he be here? Could he find—
Kate stopped. She blinked a few times, staring straight ahead. She slid forward on one of the skis to get a better look. It was a wall. It was the side of a cabin.
Her legs and arms flailed w
ildly and in poor coordination as she struggled to pull Luke the last few yards. A smile creased her face, and she waved her arms as if her family were outside waiting for her. “Holly! Mark!” She dug into the snow with ferocity and enthusiasm that her body wasn’t willing to match.
The snow thickened and deepened the closer she grew to the cabin, and twice, Luke’s sled was stuck. Less than ten yards from the front door, Kate abandoned the skis and untied the cord around her waist. Her legs sank into the thick drifts of snow. She lifted her knees high, struggling in the drifts until her foot landed on the old wood of the front porch.
“Hello!” Kate lunged for the doorknob, and it offered the resistance of a locked door. She pounded her fists against the wood. “Mark! Rodney!” She rushed to the frosted windows, pressing her face against the cold glass.
Nothing but darkness and haze was visible from the outside, and Kate pushed off the wall in a fit of rage. She clawed at her head and then turned back to where she’d left Luke in the snow. She checked his vitals. He was still breathing. Still alive. She sprinted around to the back door and gave it a tug. Locked. She looked around, searching for anything. She found a nice-sized stick and thrust it at the window.
Glass shattered, and Kate waved the stick around, moving the shards away. She climbed inside, wiggling her way over the ledge of the broken window. She landed on hardwood and groaned as she sat up.
Silhouettes of furniture and cabinets lay spread out in an open floor plan, the only doors inside leading to bedrooms or closets. She rushed to the front door, unlocked it, and then dragged Luke inside.
A fireplace was on the south end of the house in what she considered the living room. There was a pile of wood and a few starter logs next to it. She piled them into the chimney, then her feet thumped against the floor as she scoured the kitchen in search of a lighter.
She found her prize in the fifth cabinet and then ripped up an old newspaper as she made her way back to the fireplace.
The lighter sparked a flame on the first flick of her thumb, and she held the piece of paper to it until it caught, then tossed it beneath the wood.
