Snowbound Nomad

by Cassie Power

  It was misplaced, but saying that wouldn’t help her in the moment. There would be either no real threat at all, or one that was a lot worse than he ever could have been. Worse, she was probably worried about him attacking her. It was a common fear now, in the modern times. Women lived in near constant worry that every man around them would secretly turn into a monster the instant they could get away with it.

  There was a reason for that. It was called television. The box that showed so many threats to people, all the time they couldn’t understand that their world was actually much safer than it ever had been. At least for those in North America.

  Part of that was down to him and those doing the same work there. The Detroit and L.A. teams. Even the television show did their part in preventing dangers, though they didn’t get that, for the most part. They kept the real horrors at bay and had done it for so long that humanity was starting, finally, to learn how to be peaceful.

  Still, he didn’t feel like lying, so he shrugged.

  “I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to try driving in this right now, would you? The thing there is that we’ll be fine here, no matter what. So, here, can you hold the lantern for me? It will be easier to get things done if I have both hands free.” Plus, that would give her some control over the world. Holding the light, to keep the shadows away.

  It was a form of power and even if she didn’t relax, her face seemed more in control than it had.

  Dan tried to be careful but her hand touched his, gently, as she took the wire handle along the top of the lantern from him. Her fingers were warm and lingered there as they made the trade. Connecting with him.

  Smiling, he nearly chuckled. A wave of loneliness washed over him when he moved back. It was nearly despair, if only the kind that lasted a moment. Right up to the instant that he started to work again. It paid to stay busy, after all. Finding the good cast iron pots and pans in the boxes didn’t take long, and he pulled several items, including an ancient pot, some heavy bowls, spoons and a large wooden spatula. Then he arranged the meal, using the counter to work on and had Meredith follow him back and forth to the other room.

  The whole time the sound of the storm outside became more intense and it didn’t change to rain, which would have been the best they could have hoped for. He could hear, and even feel, what was going on. It wasn’t that bad yet, but a blizzard was already starting. There just wasn’t enough snow on the ground to make the world go white yet.

  That meant, given where they were that the lady had been correct. They were trapped already. Worse, this probably wasn’t about them, either. Others that lived in the area would also be secluded after that. Penned in, held in their homes, while the hunters came for them. Not that he could prove that. The odds were that it wasn’t about him, or the woman behind him as he stirred the stew and put the lid on. The bread was the sliced kind, and would be lightly fried in a pan, so it would be warm when they ate.

  The light stayed right behind him the whole time. He could feel her standing there, staying within arm’s reach. The warmth from her body, the sound of her breathing, all of these things, called to him. Made him like her just a bit more than he’d felt toward anyone in a very long time.

  Outwardly he ignored it. She was, after all, a distraction.

  His mission was to find what was there, if anything was. The storm could just be a fluke, or be about something else. Even if it was magical in nature, that could still be the case. The world was large, after all, and living with the idea that you were in the middle of it was a good way to miss whatever was really happening.

  They worked together for a long time, moving back and forth, with the woman moving a little closer to him from time to time. It was as if she forgot that he was a stranger, then would remember, and tense up. Normally when she bumped into him. It was a casual thing, and meant almost nothing, other than that she wasn’t all that fond of big storms.

  No one sane was. Not if you were going to be trapped in them.

  A blast of air made the chimney whistle, which got his new friend to jump. The lights and shadows of the room bounced, given that she was still holding the lantern. It was like a teddy bear for her, he guessed. Perhaps a weapon or talisman. A thing that wouldn’t protect her from attack very well, or the storm outside. What it did was drive the darkness back. That wasn’t a small point. If they did have something after them, then seeing it coming would be better than not.

  If they could at all.

  That didn’t feel right, however. Nothing was there for them. A strange tickle at the back of his mind assured him of that. At least as far as being hunted went. There was a lack of lethal focus on them at the the moment. That meant, as soon as he could, when there was light, he’d need to get outside and try to find any trace he could. A scent, or a sound, that meant his own fears were right. Then… Well, if it was the worst case, he’d need help. The teams would be called in and possibly some of his government connections would have to be pulled. Using large bombs on the area might be the only sane choice, if things were truly bad. If this was a single errant nomad, hunting where they could be noticed, then his odds of handling it were fairly even. Maybe better than that. Modern firearms were helpful in a fight, and the northern tribes didn’t use them. They were savages and lived in the old ways. That meant bone knives and spears for the hunt.

  Dan hadn’t become a city man, choosing to live an isolated life like he had. That didn’t mean he couldn’t see the use of what humanity had to offer. He had guns with him. Several of them. Nomads wouldn’t be easy to kill even then, but neither would he, if it came to it.

  That got him to look over at Meredith, who simply wasn’t ready for that kind of thing. Few people ever were. She didn’t even know what might be out there, waiting for them to make a single mistake.

  On the other hand, if they faced a tribe of hunters that had migrated off the ice, a lot of people were probably going to die. In that case he’d have to reach out to anyone that would listen and hope that someone would avenge their lives. He had some plans in place, in case things came to that.

  Stirring the stew first, he walked out of the room in the dark, leaving his new friend sitting, and came back moments later with the pan that held four carefully arranged pieces of bread, each with a dollop of fat under them. It tasted better that way, but wasn’t strictly needed for the cooking of it. This way it could be made crisp in places.

  Finally, about half an hour later, the food smelled done. The woman behind him held the lantern still, and winced at each noise from the world beyond the door. That was just the storm though now, so he served her a bowl of stew with two pieces of bread resting on the top, and took the light from her, settling the lantern on the wooden floor.

  “Thanks. This smells good.” She grinned, and shook her head. “What do you have planned for dessert?” Then she made a face, realizing that her words could sound a bit like an offer. Even he got that one.

  He just chuckled a bit, his laugh deep and relaxed.

  “Hot chocolate? I think I remember getting some, as long as you don’t mind it coming from a package?”

  Then, after taking a bite of the warm stew, blowing on it gently, she nodded.

  “That sounds good, actually. Thanks.”

  Chapter three- Merry

  It was pretty easy to feel stupid. In fact, it was a skill that she’d mastered long ago, in middle school. The very first time she told a boy that she liked him, in fact. When he’d turned around and told her he was gay, that had been kind of awkward. Then, later, when it turned out the boy had been lying and wanted to date her best friend, that had made it even worse.

  Merry felt her face warm after asking about dessert like she had. It had been so dark the whole time, even in the lamp light, that she still didn’t really know what Dan looked like. She had a few things down, but that was about it.

  He wasn’t a tiny man. Large, as in taller than she’d thought at first, if only by an inch or two, and carrying more muscle than seeme
d exactly normal. Most of the artists that she’d ever met had been thin, or no better off than average that way. It could be the shadows, given how smoothly he moved all the time. There was never a misstep as far as she could tell. Not by the man that was currently making her some hot cocoa.

  There wasn’t anything else to do, except hope that the little cabin was as sturdy as it looked. The wind, which had been whipping around outside for about an hour, had taken to battering them. Occasionally there were loud crashes from outside.

  “What is that? Thunder?” Merry jumped, the loud sound coming again.

  If Dan shook his head in answer, it was too hard to tell. The sound of the wind down the chimney wasn’t deafening, but it definitely set her nerves on edge. The whole night was doing that, if she were going to be honest with herself. Every single piece of it.

  Except for the scent of chocolate. That part was nice, but the rest was nerve wracking as all get out.

  Thankfully the man with her was being kind about her acting like a little girl.

  “Trees coming down. Nothing is close enough to hit us. That was probably put in by the previous owners as a fire break, but it works for this, too.” Then he picked up the pan he was using, a lighter one than the stew had been in, this one having a handle on it. Made of wood, which gave it an older feeling. A thing that had been passed down from his parents, or something like that. Just as possible, it might have been purchased at a second-hand store.

  Pouring carefully a cup of warm, but not blisteringly hot, liquid was put in a heavy mug for her. Their fingers touched when it was passed over to her. Dan had to stoop to do anything, which left her feeling tiny in comparison.

  When he got his own cup, he wandered off to the kitchen without any light at all, and came back after working the pump and washing things. When Dan returned he stood there, a bit away from the stove, not sitting on the sofa next to her. So far, he’d been really polite about everything. That either meant he was being a gentleman, or was gay.

  Merry grinned a little, and then jumped as the wind slammed at them again.

  “Oh!” She forced a laugh, and then shook her head, doubting that she’d be seen doing it. “Well… I doubt that we’ll find Bigfoot out in this. If he’s smart, he’ll have gotten out of the area before this started. That, or he’ll be hiding in a hole somewhere.” She had to shake her head then.

  For a brief moment, she felt sorry for the mythical creature. Being stuck outside in this mess would be awful.

  Dan, still standing, made a noise that was a lot more like a sigh than anything else.

  “We aren’t really here for that. I don’t know if there’s anything to Sasquatch in particular in this specific area, but grandpa thinks this is something different.” Then, almost as if trying to be mysterious, the tall, light colored man took a sip of chocolate.

  Doing the same, allowing the warmth of the sweet drink to seep into her, Merry tried to put on her professional face. No one had told her about anything except the sightings. That it could be something else was kind of obvious, since they had several different types of reports.

  “Because the sightings aren’t really that consistent? Also, there have been no reports of strange lights, which often come up around Bigfoot hot spots.” It was true, for some reason. Almost every time strange things were being seen on the ground, there were reports of flying saucers, too.

  It was one of the reasons Merry didn’t think the whole thing was real.

  There was a chuckle from the man, and another sip.

  “This is good, considering it came from a can. Anyway, this is possibly nomads. If so, then we shouldn’t feel too bad for them. Not because of the weather.”

  That term was a new one to her. Believing things or not, Merry had read a lot about strange things that people believed in. It was her job to be up on uncanny things. Even the fringe, unlikely or truly unbelievable had to be taken into account, just in case she was wrong. That one wasn’t something that had hit her radar, however.

  “Nomads? Like the Bedouin?” Merry tried not to be cutesy about it and let her voice come out as being skeptical, but not mean. It was just possible that Dan held some private belief that would be guarded if she seemed to be attacking.

  It really didn’t matter what the subject was. If you stepped on toes, people could get pissed off. If they were going to be there all night, which was kind of clear at the moment, then she needed to be polite about everything. Things getting tense wouldn’t be a good plan.

  Besides, so far, she kind of liked him. Even the big and slightly scary part of him being there alone with her was comforting. He’d gotten her warmth and food. Even light. At the moment that made him one of the best people in her life. It was probably enough to get her to date him even, as long as he didn’t kill her in the night.

  That would be a deal breaker, of course.

  There was another sip, and then he moved to the stove, opened it, and added a piece of wood from the nearly invisible stack off to the left. He was kneeling and worked with one hand, just reaching out. That meant his reach was vast. Merry would have been shuffling over to do the same thing. When it caught on fire, the door to the front of the thing was closed again, with a firm clang.

  Then Dan stood, brushed at the knees of his jeans and finished his hot chocolate.

  “There are stories and legends from the arctic. Not just the Inuit or western tribes, either. Everywhere, around the global north. The tales aren’t identical, but they’re similar. A storm comes in, often for days. Ones like this.” Then he stopped and cleared his throat. “Sorry, I’m not going for a ghost story here. It’s true though. There is almost always a blizzard. Then people hear voices. Friends and loved ones calling their name. Trying to get them to walk out into the cold and white. From a distance the people most often look like friends. The stories from the survivors tell us the same thing. The people calling, who sound so familiar, won’t close with them. They beckon, and stay in the distance. Those that move toward them, die. Always. They vanish, actually. That part is consistent from all regions.”

  Merry hadn’t heard these stories, but nodded. The man had a very nice voice for storytelling. It was so deep that she felt it in her middle. It tickled at her stomach a bit. Thankfully he wasn’t being dramatic about it at the moment. That would have been too much, given how jumpy the crashing was making her.

  Trying to sound rational, she looked over at him, not able to make out his face since the lantern was by her left foot on the far side of her.

  “Some kind of cannibal myth? Like the wendigo? People going insane due to cold and starvation, then hunting humans for food?”

  Dan shrugged, a thing that was visible even in the darkened room.

  “That could be related. The big issue here is that when people don’t know the whole story, they add to them. In all of these cases, Bigfoot, wendigo, even the nomads, there are other things seen. People changing shape, size, that kind of thing. Not in every case, but enough of them that it could mean something. The nomads… Well, the idea there is that we have northern groups of humans that move constantly, and have never integrated into the modern world. Ones that might be moving south now, for some reason.” He didn’t add why, just turning away slightly.

  That didn’t sound too likely to her, since living in that part of the world would be nearly impossible. People, even if you ate them, were too thin on the ground in that area to be a good food source. Though Merry supposed that these people could hunt seals, too. Other than that, it wasn’t all that likely that anyone could survive for long.

  Still, it was a more reasonable theory than the one that said that a huge bi-pedal creature could last in the forests and green spaces of North America and not have been captured on even a single good, not faked, video. All she’d ever seen had been grainy and distant things. Most of the supernatural and strange tended to be that way. Probably because if people could have seen things, they’d have recognized the bears or whatever it was they were looking a
t.

  “Some kind of shape shifting thing?” She could play the fantasy game after all. It was a big part of her job, day to day.

  There was a slow head shake then.

  “Sure? Or it could just be people dressed up in fur and skins. Think about it, what are the odds that we wouldn’t know about any group of people up in the ice? Now, I mean. If they exist, we’ve probably seen them close up. People will have talked to them, and they’d be known on some level. That doesn’t mean that there can’t be a culture with hidden traditions.”

  Merry laughed then, and yelped softly as the wind picked up again.

  “You can sit, if you like? I promise, I won’t bite.” She moved then, pulling a leg up on the right-hand side, so that she could see him if he did sit next to her.

  He did, but took the far side of the sofa, and turned toward her, his body sprawling more than her own was.

  Then she went on, not wanting to scare him away, or make him think she was doing more than being polite. That part… She flushed a bit, but wasn’t really certain she wasn’t being more than just nice. Not flirting really, yet. The idea that she might start soon didn’t seem that far outside of what could happen however.

  “Okay, so, nomad theory. The idea would be that they’re mimics then? Hunters that travel around, but who can kind of pass if they’re seen?” She was guessing, but it seemed about right.

  Being closer to him, she could finally see his face. It was like a thing carved from stone. There was a firm, large jaw, and cheekbones at least as high as her own. He was clearly white, and had light hair. His eyes were deep set, which gave him a slightly brooding look. It didn’t fit his voice, which was like purring along her skin when he spoke.

  “That’s my take. The thing is, whatever they believe, or are, I suppose, they’re dangerous. People that meet them don’t often survive. Not if they know about it. This… It probably isn’t them. They just don’t come down this far. Not that anyone has ever heard of.”