by Perrin Briar
Daniel looked at Hamish, his expression darkening. He didn’t believe a word of it. Earlier he’d said he knew everything about Hamish. But Hamish knew nothing about Daniel. Hamish felt exposed and unprepared. Was he dangerous? Was he the type to fly off the handle? He had a larger build than Hamish and could easily overpower him.
“Why weren’t we warned about the storm?” Kate said.
“Must have been a problem with the antennae,” Daniel said. “You know how it gets glitchy sometimes.”
“A fine time for it to mess up,” Kate said. “It almost killed us.”
“You’re here now,” Daniel said. “That’s all that matters.”
“Is everyone else all right?” Kate said.
“They’re locking everything down now,” Carl said. “We should be heading to the center.”
Z-MINUS: 4 hours 52 minutes
The snow was a flurry, assaulting their eyes and ears, making it difficult to see much farther than a few feet ahead. A strong gust of wind blew and caught Hamish, making him stagger to one side. But he never lost sight of the brightly colored coats in front of him, always keeping his eyes open, despite the stinging pain.
The others were out, locking down the buildings, strapping thick ropes over the older sheds and hammering metal pegs into the hard earth. The snow lashed them, the flurries a magician’s trick, making people appear and then disappear as they rushed about the area, trying to lock the center down. Then the figures turned and hurried for the main center, fighting against an invisible opponent. They were all winning, save one.
Someone wearing purple Carhartts coveralls was leaning against the wall of the red shed. He swayed on his feet. Perhaps he had just lost his footing and hadn’t yet straightened up. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and spat more lumps out, yellow stuff spewing from his mouth, pooling on the snow, staining it.
Hamish looked ahead, at Kate, Daniel and Carl heading toward the main center. They hadn’t noticed the purple man. Hamish was about to shout and get the others’ attention when the purple man turned and began to stumble toward the center’s back entrance. He knew what he was doing. Hamish shrugged and turned back to follow the others. The sleet spat in Hamish’s face, the ice tiny biting mosquitoes.
The storm descended, a roiling mass of dark clouds with streaks of white. The snow blasted the snow from the ground and into Hamish’s face like a high pressure hose.
Hamish was the last of their entourage to struggle inside, the wind already whipping at the door and making it fly open, banging on the wall. Hamish shied back from the approaching blow. Something slammed into the door, holding it steady, inches from striking Hamish. He looked up to see Daniel holding the door open.
“Hurry!” Daniel said.
A hand gripped his shoulder, and pulled him into the center. Carl. He took hold of the door alongside Daniel. Together, the two large men held the door in place. The wind relented. The men slammed the door and affixed the lock. The wind howled, raging against its loss, making the doors buckle and bang. The backing track to their incarceration.
The snow lashed down hard, a solid wall of white, harder than Hamish had ever seen before. Lightning flashed, thunder hot on its heels, hard, loud and frightening. Sleet scratched at the windows, the kind of weather that made you grateful you had a roof over your head, no matter how flimsy.
Hamish shrugged off his coat and boots, letting them thud to the floor. The others followed suit. The space was thick with the smell of wet hair. Hamish felt light after removing his outer skin, the water no longer dragging him down. His feet lifted lightly off the floor. It felt like he was walking on a cloud.
Jeff and Lindsey made cooing noises.
“It certainly is rough out there!” Jeff said.
“That came on quick, didn’t it?” Lindsey said.
They hung up their coats, hats, and boots, and sat a heater in front of them to help dry them out.
“I’ll put the kettle on,” Lindsey said. “Anyone fancy hot chocolate?”
They funneled into the main communal area. In the corner was the radio and microphone. Patrick, one of the ping pong players earlier, was sat before it, speaking into the mic. He wore headphones, but had pulled out the jack, so they could all listen. There was the loud roar of static, like an airplane thundering overhead.
“Hey,” Patrick said. “Winter is coming.”
“That’s hilarious about the first thousand times you said it,” Carl said.
“But winter is coming, though,” Patrick said.
Carl just looked at Patrick and shook his head.
“What does the weather control center say about the storm?” Kate said.
Patrick tapped at the keys.
“We didn’t hear anything about the storm before it arrived,” he said.
“Who was on duty?” Daniel said.
“I was,” Patrick said. “But Ian was with me. We were playing ping pong and… I must have missed the signal.”
Daniel turned on Patrick.
“Kate and Hamish almost lost their lives because of your negligence,” he said. “They were out looking at Betsy while you were playing your childish games.”
Patrick lowered his eyes.
“Sorry, Kate,” he said. “Hamish.”
“No harm done,” Hamish said. “We got back okay.”
“Yeah, it’s all right,” Kate said, resting a comforting hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Nothing bad happened, so you don’t have to worry.”
“Don’t let it happen again,” Daniel said, not letting up for a moment. “We got lucky this time.”
“It looks like some of the computer systems were down at about the time we should have received something from them,” Jeff said, peering at the monitor.
“The computer was down?” Daniel said.
Looking at the computer now, it didn’t surprise Hamish. It was old and covered with dust. No wonder it cut out on them and didn’t operate. It probably did it out of spite.
“What about the internet?” Hamish said. “Maybe you can get some information about the storm off that?”
“The storm knocked out the internet as soon as it started,” Patrick said.
“Great,” Daniel said. “We’re reduced to old Black Adder reruns.”
“Not while I’ve got control of the remote, we won’t,” Carl said.
“Worse,” Patrick said. “We’ll be subjected to a Superbowl final.”
No internet. No contact with the outside world. They were on their own. All they had to keep them amused was the poor collection of secondhand videocassettes, DVDs and dog-eared books on a battered old shelf. The next day or so was going to be tough.
“Here we are,” Lindsey said, bringing over a tray full of steaming hot chocolate. “One each. The one with the marshmallow is mine. My fee for making them.”
“Wait,” Jeff said. “Is everyone here? We look short.”
Everyone cast around, all coming to the realization at the same time.
“Ian,” Daniel said. “Where is he? Who was last to see him?”
“He went outside to check on the transmission equipment,” Patrick said.
“What color coat does he wear?” Hamish said, a chill running through him.
“What difference does that make?” Kate said.
“Tell me,” Hamish said.
“Purple,” Kate said. “He wears purple. Why?”
Hamish suddenly felt very cold.
Z-MINUS: 4 hours 36 minutes
“I last saw him out by the immersion shed,” Hamish said. “He threw up, and then headed toward the other end of the center. I thought he’d come in via the back entrance. If he had, he’d be here by now.”
“When?” Daniel said.
“Just now,” Hamish said. “A few minutes ago.”
Daniel turned to look at the others. A few minutes ago. It had a remarkable effect on those assembled. Guilty masks all round.
“There’s still time,” Daniel said.
; “You can’t go out there!” Kate said. “We’re right in the middle of a storm! You’ll get lost and we’ll never find you again!”
“You wish,” Daniel said. “I’m like a bad smell. I always come back.”
“Don’t go out there,” Kate said, her voice serious and low.
Daniel cupped a hand to her cheek.
“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t at least try?” he said.
Kate closed her eyes. She nodded. This was evidently the kind of thing he did.
“But I could use a hand out there,” Daniel said. “The more eyes we have, the more likely we are to find him.”
“You don’t honestly think I would let you go and have all the fun, do you?” Carl said.
“I was counting on your selfish nature,” Daniel said with a grin.
“I’m going too,” Hamish said.
“Don’t be stupid,” Kate said.
She sounded more surprised than upset this time.
“I’m not being stupid,” Hamish said. “We should all do our part. I know if it were me out there I’d want everyone doing everything they could to help. And the longer we talk about it, the less likely it is we’ll be able to find him.”
“I’ll go too,” Jeff said.
“Everyone’s lost leave of their senses,” Lindsey said. “You can’t go out there.”
“I can’t just stay here,” Jeff said. “He’s sick and alone out there.”
“I’ll come too,” Kate said.
“No,” Daniel said.
“But-” Kate said.
“No arguments,” Daniel said.
Kate wasn’t the type to take orders, as her stubborn expression attested.
“You stay here and keep the door open for when we get back,” Daniel said. “Please.”
Hamish couldn’t help but think how much he might have liked Daniel under different circumstances. Kate nodded.
They moved through to the main changing chamber at the opposite end of the center. It felt horrible putting the wet coveralls and boots back on. They were cold against Hamish’s skin, sapping the warmth his body had managed to harvest. Kate, Patrick, and Lindsey tied thick corded rope through metal loops on the men’s coveralls.
“Are we ready?” Daniel said.
The storm outside raged in response, the doors slapping and banging against its frame.
“Here we go,” Daniel said.
He opened the door. If Daniel had had a stronger grip it would have wrenched his shoulder from his socket. The world was white, slashed icy blue and black. The clouds were dark, thick and ominous, and ran like a river above their heads, blotting out the light.
“Ten minutes,” Kate said. “After that, we’re pulling you all in.”
Kate’s eyes moved over the men. Hamish thought they caught on Hamish’s. The mind sees what it wants to see.
The wind was frigid, cold and hard, blasting them back with its mighty lungs. Daniel wrapped his hood over his head and stepped out into the storm.
The others followed him, each breaking apart and heading off at a different angle. A variation of a few degrees could make all the difference. They headed away from the compound, away from all the buildings, in a westerly direction. It was the direction Hamish had last seen Ian heading in. With any luck he wouldn’t have wandered too far.
The snow was already getting thick, up to Hamish’s ankles. Within a few seconds, Hamish lost sight of the other men. He could feel the slight tug on the back of his coat where the rope was attached. It must have been how a baby felt attached to an umbilical cord. He felt safer, secure.
The howling wind filled his ears as it sandblasted his face. Then it switched positions, pushing him on the back, and then shifted again, from the side, causing him to stumble. Walking back toward the center wasn’t going to be much fun.
Hamish kept his eyes open. He could hear his own breath in his ears. He kept going, sloshing his way through the snow. He was struggling, the events earlier on the jet ski having taken their toll. He was exhausted.
The ice clung to his eyelashes, making them stick together. The temperature dropped several more degrees. The wind sliced through him, cutting and biting. He pressed forward, leaning over at a forty-five degree angle, battling the wind and rain. He lifted his knees high to stomp over the mounting snow.
Lightning flashed, closer. Hamish clamped his hands over his ears at the impending rumble of thunder. It thudded like Thor’s hammer.
He cast around but could see nothing but walls of white. Ian had no chance. He could have been but a few feet away and Hamish would never have laid eyes on him.
Panic rose in Hamish’s throat, clogging his airway. What if he met the same fate? He reached back to touch the rope attached to him, and curled his gloved hand around it. It felt warm with hope. He took several deep freezing cold breaths to calm himself. His heart returned to his chest.
And then he saw something.
A slight indentation in the snow.
It was probably nothing, just the way the snow had fallen, but the rest of the snow looked like a desert’s rolling dunes, perfectly formed with no imperfections. But here and there, small round gaps. The snow had given way, removing any similarity to a human footprint it might have once resembled. The storm attempted to cover the tracks. It hadn’t done it fast enough.
Perhaps someone had wandered through the storm, looking for the center that he knew should have been there, but wasn’t. He’d tried to orient himself, trying to find one of the buildings – any of them would have been fine – only he couldn’t. And now he was out in the middle of a blizzard with nowhere to go. No food or water, nor the energy to sustain him.
Hamish followed them. The tracks were losing their potency, blurring around the edges. Hamish picked up the pace, powering through the snow, rushing after the tracks. But they were being wiped out faster than he could move. An invisible man’s footprints. And soon they were gone.
He pressed forward a few more yards, but daren’t go any farther. Hamish turned left and right, unsure of which way to head.
The indentations could have been an animal’s tracks, something fleeing the human settlement, or the storm.
A flash of purple. Hamish’s heart leapt. It was gone as quickly as it had appeared. But Hamish hadn’t imagined it. He was certain.
He clambered over the snow toward it. Or had he imagined it? Had his mind so desperately wanted to see the color that it had fabricated it?
No. There it was again, a sliver of purple. Hamish moved toward it. It was getting larger. As he moved toward it, hope grew in his chest. He’d found him. He’d found Ian!
Something tightened against his waist. The purple color was gone. He looked down and felt at what had pressed against him.
It was a rope. A purple one.
Attached to one of the other searchers. His own rope was orange. Whose had been purple? He couldn’t remember. It didn’t matter.
The rope disappeared into the snowdrift in the same direction he’d been heading in when he was following the footprints. Had be been following one of the other searcher’s prints? Or had they too discovered the mysterious disappearing footprints?
The rope in his hands grew slack. Either it had been cut, or the searcher it was attached to was heading toward Hamish. Either way, it meant Hamish should go check out this searcher in case he needed aid – aid because he was in trouble, or aid because he’d found something.
A shape emerged out of the wall of white. Hamish’s breath hitched in his throat.
Approaching him were a pair of figures. One was in yellow, the other in purple. The person in yellow was struggling under Ian’s weight. He staggered and collapsed. Hamish grabbed the yellow figure and helped him to his feet. A thin veneer of ice covered his face. It was Daniel.
Hamish joined Ian on his other side, hooking Ian’s arm over his head and around his neck. Together with Daniel, they waded through the snow. Every few minutes, Daniel tugged on his rope. In response, it grew ti
ght. A reliable way of knowing which way to go. They followed it into the thick white walls of the storm.
The trip seemed to take forever. It might have done, for all the amount the scenery changed. This might have been hell, struggling against endless unbeatable odds, toward a goal that could not be achieved. Hamish’s breath rasped in his throat, his muscles protesting against every movement.
A voice, distant and reaching.
It was swept by the wind and could have come from anywhere. It seemed to be coming from his left. He turned to face it, but the voice only changed direction. Now it was coming from his right. It could have been a spirit. Except Hamish knew better.
It was Kate. The center emerged, a dozen yards from where he thought it was. He was lucky to have seen it at all. Another yard and he would have missed it. Hamish dragged the figure toward the building, step by step, his footsteps already brimming with snow.
Kate stood in the entrance. She didn’t waste time with hugs. Hamish could see the relief on her face. She turned and waved for him to follow her inside. The other searchers were already inside. They had their coats half-on, clearly preparing to head out and shout Hamish and Daniel’s name as Kate had done, but now they shrugged them off and helped the three men inside.
Hamish’s whole body was wracked with pain. He could hardly keep his own feet. He fell to his knees, breaths deep rasping gasps like he’d become asthmatic. He felt like he was going to die. Someone kept pulling on his coat and helmet to remove them, but he waved them off. He just wanted to breathe. That was all that mattered. His body wanted to absorb every last molecule of oxygen it could, no matter the cost, and so he stayed there, on his hands and knees, for several minutes, before he finally allowed himself to move.
He rolled back and looked up into the face of Daniel, who already had his coat and helmet off. He was breathing hard, but not struggling as Hamish was.
Carl slapped Hamish and Daniel on the back as he passed, heading down the hall. Probably toward wherever they had taken Ian. Hamish had lost track of him, and everything else for that matter, the moment he’d fallen through the doors.
A large hand reached down. Hamish looked up at its owner. Daniel had a broad grin on his face. Hamish took the hand and allowed Daniel to haul him up onto his feet.
