Hope Survives

by Harley Tate

  Thanks to the snowmobile jerks, her day trip turned into a three-day bender of standing guard at the ransacked pharmacy and loading medicine onto the U-Haul. There wasn’t much left in the Jeep to use.

  Madison climbed into the back and rooted through the tossed-about gear. The MREs were gone. One jerry can still held about a gallon of water, but it was too cold to even think about drinking. There were plenty of medical supplies to deal with cuts and scrapes and typical scavenging injuries. Nothing to treat a swollen knee, broken leg, or concussion.

  They had one fire puck and a lighter. If she could find something to make a fire, maybe they would stay warm enough until the morning when she could see to hike out. Madison glanced at the rearview window. The world was black. It might as well have been a total canvas cover with no clear plastic at all.

  She chewed on her lip, worrying about the last snowmobile driver. Why hadn’t he attacked? If he was out there, surely he would have tried to do something by now. One look at the Jeep and anyone would know it wasn’t operational.

  Maybe he thought they were already dead. Maybe one of the shots she fired out the back hit its mark. She knew the first man crashed, but did the second one as well? After mulling it over for a few minutes, Madison grabbed the fuel puck and the lighter and climbed out the rear passenger-side door.

  Wind whipped against her face and stole her breath. She closed her eyes and fought down the panic. They wouldn’t freeze to death. She could start a fire. Madison spun around in a circle. There had to be some dry branches somewhere.

  With agonizing slowness, Madison searched the nearby area, too frightened to use a flashlight in case their pursuers were still out searching. After what seemed like an eternity, she collected an armful of dead branches she was able to snap off the closest pine trees and hauled them over to the Jeep. Using her boot-clad feet, she pushed the snow around to make a clearing several feet across.

  She stopped and looked around. Back when she was younger, she took a trip with her best friend up to Lake Tahoe in the summer. The days were warm, but the nights were cool and to warm up after a day of swimming, they would duck into a small log shack and create their own hot rock sauna.

  A Jeep wasn’t a log cabin, but she could do the same thing here. All she needed was a collection of large, substantial stones and a means of carrying them. She hiked around the Jeep and up to the rocky outcrop where the right front tire met its end. Crawling on her hands and knees beneath the front bumper, Madison felt around in the dark for rocks small enough to carry, but large enough to retain heat.

  She found three. The rest were bits of gravel or too big to lift. It wouldn’t be enough. Frustrated, she turned to face the wind and almost shouted for the man on the snowmobile to come and get them. At least then she could shoot him and maybe use his vehicle to find help.

  She gave herself a mini pity party before sucking back her tears and wiping her face. Giving up wouldn’t save her or Brianna. After collecting the rocks, she brought them over to the clearing. Three are better than none. She set them on the ground, broke the branches into foot-long pieces, and constructed a tepee over the fuel puck.

  She fished the lighter from her pocket and flicked the wheel. It didn’t start. She tried again. Sparks, but no flame. Come on. Madison shook the lighter. The faint sound of butane sloshing around gave her hope. It wasn’t empty. She flicked the wheel again.

  A flame.

  Bending low, Madison cupped the flame and held it against the fuel puck until it lit. She exhaled in relief as the glow of a small fire spread across the surface of the reddish-orange circle. The pucks were advertised as having a three-hour burn time, but through trial and error Madison and the rest of her group discovered they burned much quicker.

  If she couldn’t get the fire to stay lit without the puck, she had maybe an hour, not much more. A gust of wind blew and the flames sputtered and hissed. Snow landed on the puck and sent wisps of smoke into her face. She moved to block the wind as best she could, but it swirled in the small space between the Jeep and the trees.

  The branches wouldn’t catch. She didn’t know if they were too wet or not old enough or if the wind was too much to bear, but the puck shrank with every passing minute. Sooner or later, it would burn out.

  This isn’t working. Madison turned back to the Jeep and tugged open the closest door. She shoved a rifle and the water out of the way, searching for anything that could burn. Everything was plastic or metal or synthetic. She could create plenty of smoke if she needed to send up a signal or boil the water in the can, but she couldn’t sustain the fire.

  As she shut the door, the branches above the fire puck collapsed and a shower of sparks pocked the snow. The fire turned to smoke and soot. Madison crouched beside the remnants and flicked the lighter. Holding it against the scraps of wood, she willed something to light.

  It was a lost cause. After a minute or two, her thumb was on the edge of burning. She was wasting fuel. Madison released the lighter and the flame blinked out. The afterglow drifted across her field of vision, a fading burst of red and orange.

  She reached down and picked up the closest stone. It was warm, but the heat wouldn’t last for long. After setting them all in the passenger seat, Madison climbed in and shut the door. The temperatures outside were hovering around freezing. Inside wasn’t much better.

  “Brianna? Can you hear me?” Madison called out to her best friend. She received no response.

  She reached over and felt for Brianna’s pulse. Steady and strong. Thank God for small favors. One at a time, she tucked the warm stones around her friend’s body, placing one at her feet and two on the seat near her hands and chest.

  “Don’t worry. We’re going to make it.” Madison climbed into the back and hoisted up the rifle she’d used earlier to shoot at the snowmobiles. As she turned to climb back into the front, something in the distance caught her eye.

  She crept closer to the window, squinting into the gloom. Am I hallucinating already? She cupped her hands around her face and blocked out everything except the darkness where she’d seen it.

  There! Madison dropped her hands and a shiver racked her body. This time, it wasn’t from the cold.

  Out in the distance, a speck of a light wobbled and glowed. Was it a flashlight? A fire? She couldn’t tell from the distance.

  She swallowed and checked the status of the rifle. If the light belonged to one of the snowmobile riders, then he was out there, searching. Madison pulled off the glove on her right hand and slipped her finger around the rifle’s trigger. Her hand was so cold, she didn’t know where the metal began and her skin ended.

  Her teeth chattered and her knees knocked together as she stared out the window at the light. It wavered every so often, but it barely moved. Was he hunkered down in the wind? Taking a break?

  Madison clamped her teeth to slow the shiver and brought the rifle up into position. She balanced it on the seat back and hunkered down, barely taller than the rear gate of the Jeep, and waited.

  No one was sneaking up on them. She would defend herself and Brianna no matter what.

  Chapter Eighteen

  TRACY

  Clifton Compound

  10:00 p.m.

  Tracy sat at the small table, following the wood grain with her fingers. Something was wrong. Even if the loading of the U-Haul took all day, Walter, Madison, and the rest of Tracy’s makeshift family should have been home by now.

  Fireball purred in her lap, oblivious to her inner turmoil. He’d taken quite a liking to the inside of the cabin over the winter months, refusing to go outside unless someone picked him up and plopped him on the porch. Even then, he’d only rush out to do his business and run back, meowing and clawing to come inside.

  She absentmindedly ran her fingers through his fur. “Come spring, you need to earn your keep. More mousing, less snoozing.”

  At the door, Lottie pricked her ears. The little Yorkie rose up, whole body at attention.

  “Are they ho
me?” Tracy stood up and Fireball jumped to the floor.

  Lottie whined and pawed at the wood.

  “It’s okay. I’m coming.” Tracy tugged on her coat and yanked the door open. Lottie ran out to the porch barking and jumping. A large pickup truck pulled through the gate to the Cliftons’ property, followed by the U-Haul they had prepped early that morning.

  Tracy frowned. This isn’t the plan. She craned her neck to see around the trailer. Where was the Jeep? Tracy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from panicking. There has to be an explanation. Don’t think the worst.

  She stepped off the porch and hurried to meet the pickup truck as the driver’s door opened.

  “What’s happened?”

  Colt stepped down. “You know that worst-case scenario we outlined?”

  Tracy nodded.

  “Think worse.” He opened the door to the back seat. “Help me get Ben inside. He needs medical attention.”

  “Ben Jacobson?” Tracy rushed to the rear of the truck. Ben sprawled across the back seat, one leg dangling down to the floorboard. “Why did you bring him here?”

  “It’s a long story.” Larkin hustled over from the U-Haul. “We can fill you in once he’s stable.”

  Tracy looked past him. “Where’s everyone else?”

  “Not coming.” Larkin reached past her to help Colt lift Ben from the truck. “We need antibiotics, disinfectant, gauze, and bandages. Maybe sutures.”

  “We don’t have any.”

  He jerked his head toward the U-Haul. “We have everything.”

  Tracy swallowed. If they brought all the medicine and Ben here, something awful must have happened. She couldn’t go on unless she knew. “Are they dead?”

  “What?”

  “My husband and my daughter. Are they dead?”

  Colt shook his head. “We don’t know. Brianna and Madison took off through the woods. A couple of guys followed them. Walter stayed behind to find them.”

  She swallowed down the horror. “You were attacked.”

  Colt snapped. “We don’t have time, Tracy.” He shoved past her, his arms looped under Ben’s while Larkin followed with the heavy man’s feet. “Help us with Ben or get out of the way.”

  She stood in the snow, unable to process what was happening. Her husband and daughter were missing, possibly dead, and Colt and Larkin left them behind to save Ben Jacobson. A man whose family was responsible for Dani’s almost fatal injury and possibly Walter’s as well.

  Up until that moment, Tracy had managed to bury her ill feelings toward the Jacobsons, focusing on the positives an alliance could bring. But seeing members of her own little group choose Ben over family? Anger and frustration welled up inside her.

  I should have been there. She cursed herself for not insisting on being part of the mission. Now her husband and daughter were out there somewhere and she was supposed to ignore it and focus on a near stranger.

  The door to Anne and Barry’s cabin opened and Barry stepped out onto the porch, shotgun in his hand.

  Anne followed a step behind, jacket flying open in the wind. “What on earth?”

  Tracy crossed the common area. “They were attacked. I don’t know the details.”

  “Where’s Brianna?”

  “Not here. Walter is still out there, searching for the girls.”

  Barry cursed. “I knew this was a terrible idea.”

  Anne reached for his arm. “We don’t know what’s happened. Let’s reserve judgment.”

  “Colt and Larkin brought Ben here. He’s wounded.”

  “What?” Barry bellowed the word. “Why not take him to his own damn farm? They’re the ones with all the medicine!”

  Tracy pointed to the U-Haul. “They brought the pharmacy, too.”

  Barry stilled. “Well, at least that’s something.” He turned to Anne. “Help as best you can. Once Jacobson is stable, we can all sit down and find out what happened.”

  Anne smiled at Tracy. “Help me treat him, will you? The sooner we deal with it, the sooner we can figure out how to help our daughters.”

  Tracy exhaled. Anne was right. “I’ll root through the U-Haul for antibiotics, suture kits, and anything else we might need.”

  “Thank you.” Anne strode toward the kitchen cabin where Colt and Larkin had taken Ben.

  Tracy hurried to the U-Haul. She yanked the rolling door open and gasped. It was fully loaded almost floor-to-ceiling with box after box of medicine. Her daughter’s neat handwriting adorned every box, listing the range of drugs inside. Tracy bit back a sob. She couldn’t break down. Not now.

  Thanks to the labels, she found the gauze and a suture kit right away. But antibiotics posed a problem. She didn’t know the generic names for most shelf-stable versions and searching in penicillin and amoxicillin came up empty. She finally found a box of Zithromax in the Z box, scooped up the rest of the supplies, and hopped out of the truck. She dragged the door shut and ran to the kitchen cabin.

  Anne sat in a chair beside a cot, cleaning what looked to be a nasty bullet wound in Ben Jacobson’s abdomen. “Sorry that took me so long. I couldn’t find any antibiotics.”

  “There have to be some in there.”

  Tracy held up a bottle. “These should work, assuming he’s not allergic.”

  “It’s a risk we’ll have to take. He’ll get an infection for sure without them.” Anne dipped a clean cotton ball in a small bowl of rubbing alcohol and patted the edges of the wound. “Rifle rounds, both clean with minimal yaw. Lucky for him, they were fired at relatively close range. If he’d been any farther out, we’d be digging bits and pieces from his guts.”

  “No, we’d be digging a hole in the frozen dirt out back.” Colt wiped his hands on a rag and pulled out a chair. He fell into it and closed his eyes.

  Larkin sat across from him, a bottle of whiskey and four glasses sitting on the table. While Tracy had been in the U-Haul, both Peyton and Dani had joined the group. Dani leaned against the wall, every bit the angry teenager. Peyton sat on the other side of Ben, helping Anne as best he could.

  Tracy turned to the men at the table. “Now that he’s being treated, can one of you please tell us what happened?”

  Colt tapped the table and Larkin poured a finger of whiskey into a clean glass. Colt downed it, wincing as it hit the back of his throat. “That’s bottom of the barrel isn’t it?”

  “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  He flashed Larkin the middle finger and turned to Tracy. “They were waiting for us up Northwoods Boulevard. A roadblock of snowmobiles. Looked to be the same type of men as you described.”

  Larkin nodded. “They were all wearing helmets or glasses and ski masks, so I couldn’t get a good look, but they fit the profile.”

  Tracy exhaled. She’d feared something like that would happen. It was why she and Larkin insisted on moving the drugs, only they were too late.

  “Craig got out of the truck to talk to them.” Larkin paused and pressed his fingers against his lips. “They shot him in the back.”

  Tracy sat up with a start. “What?”

  “Immediately after, the bullets started flying. Ben was up in the truck, firing from the open door. Walter and I were in the U-Haul. Brianna and Madison were behind us. There was no way to fight them off. Had to be seven or eight of them, all firing.”

  He swallowed. “I jammed the U-Haul in reverse and took off back down the road, passed the Jeep, and told them to take off if they couldn’t hold. A few minutes later, they did. Walter saw the girls turn for the forest.”

  “And the men on snowmobiles?”

  Larkin exhaled. “Maybe one or two followed them.”

  Colt joined in. “We took out the rest. By the time the fighting ended, Ben had been hit twice, Craig was dead. We knew at least one snowmobile got away.”

  “So you left?”

  “We had to secure the medicine.”

  Tracy glanced over at Anne. She didn’t look up from Ben’s wounds. Tracy shook her head. “Did W
alter know where the girls had gone?”

  “No. He took a snowmobile and headed into the forest. He planned to follow the tracks.”

  Tracy closed her eyes. Her husband didn’t know the first thing about riding a snowmobile.

  “Given the circumstances, we couldn’t take Ben home. One look at the two of us dragging him in wounded and we’d probably have been shot.”

  Colt nodded. “And now we have control of the medicine. If Ben doesn’t pull through this, it’s all ours.”

  Anne leaned back in her chair. “They’ll see it as an act of betrayal.”

  “Not if we spin it right.”

  Anne shook her head. “You’ve put us in a terrible position.”

  “No. The Jacobsons did that when they shot me and Walter.” Dani pushed off the wall. “Heather’s nice, but this whole thing stinks. You should have dropped him off with Heather and taken the medicine.”

  Colt shot her a glance. “We’re doing our best to save him. With the pharmacy’s supplies, there’s nothing Heather can do that we can’t and we don’t have to look over our shoulders every ten seconds.”

  “Not until they come looking for their leader.”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  “What about Madison and Brianna?” Peyton spoke up for the first time. “We can’t leave them out there.”

  Tracy stood up. “I’m going to look for them.”

  “You’ll need help.” Larkin leaned back in his chair. “No one should be on Northwoods alone.”

  “I’ll go.” Peyton glanced at Anne. “If that’s all right with you.”

  She nodded. “I’m about done here.”

  Tracy smiled at Peyton. “Get your bag and plenty of extra ammo. We’ll leave as soon as we can.” She turned and strode from the cabin, not stopping until she stood on the porch of the sleeping cabin across the way. She sucked in a breath of cold air.