Allowing those few tears to fall back there on what I’d forever from this point on think of as a snowy battlefield were a small venting session, all I’d needed for the moment. I was glad I hadn’t allowed more, though, knowing now that it had made Kevin feel uncomfortable.
I knew that Vera was right too, though, that everything consuming my thoughts was playing on my emotions as well, and it contributed to my general state. “You’re right, Vera, but I think I’m okay.” We started walking again and I allowed my thoughts to wander to that of the Branson family, how we often go through life not really knowing a lot of people in our orbits. Some people we knew better than they knew themselves, and others we knew down to the core, but most people? Most people we only knew by what they showed us, whether intentionally or inadvertently. The Bransons? I don’t know that they would have liked my opinion about them—but maybe they wouldn’t care.
It wasn’t that I wanted to speak ill of the dead…but I felt the need to talk. I had to take my mind off the things I had no control over. All dwelling on it would do would make me feel more miserable than I already felt. That, too, was part of my venting theory…of letting things out so I could let them go. “I never really knew that family—just what my Aunt Lou and Uncle Felix told me about them. I guess they were kind of a radical anti-government family. You know…they lived up here to be as far removed from society as they could possibly be. Lou told me that, at the last census, the girl who was working this part of the county was scared and didn’t want to go back there. She asked Lou questions about them. She told her there were two pit bulls but that they seemed friendlier than the brothers.” I heard Larry chuckle a bit but he didn’t turn. “She said they didn’t pay her enough to be greeted with a shotgun.”
“I’m thinking we made the right decision goin’ this way.”
I nodded. Larry was right. I hadn’t even thought of it when we’d first talked about neighbors. I knew, though, that there was no animosity between my aunt and the Branson family…but maybe that was because she’d always kept her distance. I guess I’d never know now. As to the rest of what I knew about the Bransons, I decided to keep my mouth shut. It somehow seemed disrespectful when they couldn’t be there to defend themselves…but my uncle had told me a story or two several years ago—one was about a sign they had posted when you got closer to their house. It warned off people like “sightseers” and “government workers of any kind”—which, as I thought about it, might have set the tone for the meek census worker in the first place. Felix had also mentioned that he knew they poached game frequently—mostly deer, but the occasional elk or wild turkey—because they believed it was their right as landowners, and Felix wasn’t about to get into any kind of philosophical debate with them. They’d never hunted on his land nor done him any harm, so he believed it was up to the forest service to take care of if they had a problem with it.
Yes…probably best that I and my companions were headed in the opposite direction.
Chapter Twenty-nine
“Army of the Dead” – Glamour of the Kill
WE WALKED FOR quite some time, but without any kind of gauge (a watch or a computer or phone clock), I had no idea how long. When the quality of light changed due to the sun dropping below the jagged mountain, I grew concerned, because we hadn’t found any neighbors and we had quite a walk back to my aunt’s house. I was okay at finding my way through these woods, especially with our snowy footprints to follow, but in the dark, I had my doubts I could find anything. All bets were off.
I was getting ready to voice my concern when Kevin (more likely to get Larry’s attention anyway) said, “Maybe we should head back.” Larry stopped and turned, and Kevin looked over at me. “Do you think we’re close, Nina?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I honestly have no idea. I never paid much attention, especially since I usually came to my aunt’s house directly from Winchester. I can’t tell you the last time I drove through Chipeta Springs to get there.”
Larry didn’t seem as disappointed or reluctant as I’d expected. “Probably a good idea.” Without another word, he walked around us so he could lead again.
If I hadn’t been so tired, that too probably would have irritated me. Instead, I just said a silent prayer of thanks to the universe that we were heading back. I was cold, hungry, and tired—and worried about what might happen if we would encounter one of the infected in the dark.
I was pretty sure it would be damned dangerous. Probably fatal.
It seemed to take us less time heading back, and I wasn’t sure if it was because we were less cautious, having already travelled that path and knowing what to expect or if my group was feeling the way I was as well—a little nervous but also ready to relax. It might not have been much—my aunt’s house in the middle of nowhere, buried in snow with no electricity and seemingly no way out—but it was something. It was comforting knowing we had a place to go to.
And then I remembered that my aunt’s body was still sitting in her sewing room, quite possibly tied to that chair. I fought back a tear as we continued our trek.
I thought a lot about Kevin during that quiet journey, too. He didn’t seem like a different person, but he was a man now, and I was an adult as well, and if his life had thrown at him half as much shit as mine had me, he would look at the world a little differently than we did back then. When I’d first talked to him just days earlier in Larry’s truck, I had perceived him as a bit of an asshole, arrogant and uncaring, but he was revealing someone else to me day by day. He seemed like the kind of guy I would have liked if I’d just met him.
That made it easier being around him…but my neighbors—what was most odd was I was beginning to like them a little less.
I felt some relief when the woods began to look a little more familiar as darkness began to descend upon us rapidly. I think we all sensed it, because, at the same time, each one of us picked up the pace. It might have been in response to one of us moving more quickly, but I really think we all felt the urgency. Not only would we have to worry about wild animals but more potential infected as well. That wasn’t what worried me the most, though. What I feared more was getting lost in the dark and freezing to death, when salvation might only be a few steps away. If this had happened a week ago—with my aunt alive and the electricity burning brightly—I wouldn’t have been as anxious, either, because a little light shining from a home in the woods was easy to spot once you got close.
Just as I was starting to feel panic forming at the edge of my brain, I recognized the fence around my aunt’s garden, which was located several yards up the hill from her house. I could tell that no one else knew it, so I said, “Turn to your left.”
Larry muttered, “Down the hill?”
“Yeah. The house is just below.” As much as I’d loved visiting my aunt, I’d never felt these overwhelming emotions at seeing her home.
It was beginning to feel like mine.
We managed to get to the door without problem, but once we got inside? As dark as it had been outside, inside was worse. There weren’t even red embers left of the fire. It had died, and the house was cold. It didn’t take us long to work together silently, feeling around in the dark for the long-reach lighter, the stack of newspapers Aunt Lou had kept beside the kindling basket, and smaller pieces of wood. In less than ten minutes, we had a roaring fire, and Kevin was feeding it another big log.
I’d taken off my shoes and socks. My feet weren’t just cold; they were also wet. My shoes weren’t made for trudging in the snow, and my toes had grown numb from the constant contact with the frozen stuff. I held my feet up to the fire for a while and then said, “We’re going to have to hope the light shines enough into the kitchen so we can find some food.”
Vera offered to take care of that, and Larry said he would help. After his chauvinistic attitude that day, I was surprised he was helping his wife do what he no doubt considered woman’s work…but he was helping, so I supposed that was something.
Dinne
r was nothing spectacular—more peanut butter and crackers. After only oatmeal for breakfast, though, not one of us complained, and I would have thought we were eating a three-course surf-and-turf meal. When we finished (still hungry but feeling better), Larry said, “We need to discuss the very real possibility that we won’t be leaving tomorrow.”
I could hear the desperation in Vera’s voice when she replied, even though she tried hiding it. “What do you mean, Lar?”
“I mean…we’ve been trying and trying to get out of here, and it seems like we hit a brick wall with every attempt. We need to make some long-term and short-term plans.”
I might have been a little slow, but I could read between the lines. He was suggesting that we “set up camp” until we could leave my aunt’s house.
Kevin said, “What do you have in mind?”
“We need to make a list, take an inventory. Make survival primary and leaving here a close second.”
Kevin nodded but said nothing else. Vera said, “You want to stay here?” This time, she made no attempt to disguise her emotion.
“Do you have any other suggestions, my dear?” The sarcasm in his voice was heavy, and I thought it might be best to stay out of their discussion until she could calm down.
“Yes. We leave as planned!”
“What is your plan? Do you know any of the neighbors around here? Did you get a bead on any horses we might ride out of this valley? Maybe a sled?” Even in the dim light of the fire, I could see Vera’s face glowering, but she said nothing else. Larry had effectively shut her up. “I don’t want to be the guy who talks gloom and doom, but we need to be realistic, people. What if we come up with another plan that fails? We almost got stuck in the dark where we might have died of exposure…and we were all way too fuckin’ hungry. We need a long-term game plan to prevent shit like this from happening again.” He looked at Vera when he said, “As much as it sucks, I’m afraid we’re stuck here for a while.”
“You said you want to make survival primary. Exactly what are you thinking?” Kevin’s voice was calm, and if I’d been a complete stranger overhearing him in a restaurant, I doubt I could have differentiated his tone from asking about the weather.
But he wouldn’t have been asking this question in any other circumstances.
I think his calmness was a reaction to Vera’s high-strung answer. If he was cool and collected, we might all respond in kind. Larry was right about one thing—we were failing miserably, and maybe we needed a wakeup call. Maybe we needed to be realistic about our situation so that we could properly tackle it.
Larry replied to Kevin. “We need to assess what we have and either figure out how to make do with it or figure out how to get it.”
“Like water?”
“Exactly.”
I sensed a list. “Let me go find that notepad and pen I was using earlier.” I started to stand up.
Kevin stood and said, “You stay right there. No way are you walking around this cold house with bare feet. Where did you put them?”
“On the desk, I think.” With a nod of his head, he walked over to the edge of the kitchen where the little desk sat, tucked away, and he bent over so he could see in the soft light. He found them fairly quickly and walked back, handing them to me and then looking back at Larry.
“How much water do we have?” Kevin asked.
“Not much. Just a few bottles.”
Kevin frowned. On our trek back earlier that evening, we’d all been grabbing handfuls of snow and sucking on it to quench our thirst. I could tell he was trying to figure out how to make that work in a more permanent way. I said, “There’s a creek not far from here.”
Larry sat up. “Where?” I couldn’t read his expression because of the way the fire’s flickering flames cast shadows on his face.
“South of here, just past the road a ways.”
I glanced from Larry to Vera, and she seemed disinterested, on the verge of sleep. I knew this entire scenario had taken its toll on her, and I felt bad, because it seemed like it was partly my fault. It was, really, because if Larry hadn’t offered to drive me to my Aunt Lou’s house, they’d still be in Winchester. Of course, we had no idea what Winchester was like now, and it had been in questionable shape when we were leaving. Still, I couldn’t help but feel somewhat guilty about how Vera seemed to be suffering.
When she was like this, I felt sympathy for her. I wanted us all to get out of there, though—not just me for the sake of my motherly nerves. We all had reasons for wanting to go home…and, for that reason alone, I wished she would participate in our discussion. We all needed to talk and think and offer ideas so we could get back home.
I didn’t feel like it was my place to nudge her, though, so I kept my thoughts to myself.
“How far would you say?”
If I hadn’t been cold and hungry and feeling sorry for myself, I might have laughed. “It’s been a long time, Larry, but even if I could remember exactly how far, I’m not good with distances.”
That time, I could see him frown. “How many football fields?”
I started to try to envision one football field, followed by another and another…and just couldn’t. But then I realized he already knew how far it was to the road. He just needed to know the additional distance. “Um…from the road? Between one and two.”
He nodded. “So…not too far.” Yeah, well, maybe not to Larry. To me, though, the hike to the road seemed like a long haul. Add to it, walking back up the hill with water didn’t sound so fun. That said, fresh water from the creek would taste a lot better than fistfuls of snow. Even so, if we did have to stay here for a few days, we would have to have water. There was no getting around it. So, instead of being negative and disagreeing, I nodded my head.
Compared to the distance to Chipeta Springs—or even the neighbor to the east—the creek was close.
Kevin said, “We have weapons, even if they’re not the greatest. We also have warmth. Food, though—we need food.”
“No problem there,” I said. “My aunt has a pantry downstairs full of both nonperishables and canned foods but also food from her garden—winter squashes, potatoes, apples, sweet potatoes—and probably all kinds of other things I haven’t thought of.”
“Too bad all we have to cook with is the fire.”
“Better than nothing. Plus, I know Aunt Lou had a lot of cast iron and metal cookware, things that will survive the fire.”
Larry said, “True. The shit we got at our house would never make it.”
“Not much protein, though. And we got nothing to go hunting with.” I could see Kevin squint his eyes as he pondered something. “Did your aunt have any fishing poles?”
I nodded. “Probably. She and my uncle used to go camping with my parents a long time ago. One of the outbuildings holds their old fifth wheel. If she still has fishing poles, that’s probably where they’d be.”
“Creek have any fish?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I never fished in it. There are a couple of ponds up past the Bransons’ from streams that feed into the creek…so maybe? I never looked for fish.” Kevin smiled and I blushed, feeling a little stupid that I had no idea. Some expert. I looked down at the paper to write down what we’d discussed so far, and then I said, “Okay, so this might sound stupid, but tomorrow we should inventory how much toilet paper we have—that should give us an idea of how long we have before we need to leave.”
Larry chuckled long and loud. “Leave it to a woman.”
“The idea of no toilet paper totally grosses me out. Sorry.” And no fucking way was I even going to bring up menstruation, especially since my one ally on that subject had long since faded…not that I’d had need to worry about that little problem in months. “And laundry and bathing. I’m sorry, but I bet these clothes smell bad. I want to wear something fresh, and I want to wash off.”
“That’s a damn lotta water we’ll be hauling up this here mountain, missy.”
I couldn’t tell if Larry w
as trying to be charming or if he was being chauvinistic again, so I ignored the comment. “Why can’t we bathe like you do when you’re camping? Heat up a little water and wash with a washcloth. Nothing fancy and not as good as a shower, but better than nothing.” I tapped the pen on the paper. “I want to try to feel human again.”
Kevin looked over at Larry. “She’s right. It might make us all feel a little better. Any clothes we can wear while we clean what we have or…?
“My aunt kept all my uncle’s clothes. We can take a look tomorrow.”
I was also thinking about a bed, but the men read my expression, even in the low light, as I once more thought of my aunt…and her lifeless body.
“Um…Nina. Do you want us to try to bury your aunt tomorrow? Maybe have some kind of a service?”
Kevin grimaced. “Ground’s probably too frozen, Larry.”
My voice was softer than I would have liked when I said, “We can’t just leave her up there.”
No…but the men discussed it for quite some time, and after we all batted around multiple ideas, we decided to wrap her in a comforter and place her in the barn rafters before locking the door—it was cold enough this time of year that, if her body stayed frozen, wild animals shouldn’t be drawn to it, and up off the ground would help.
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