The snow melt turned to ice and it stayed frigid halfway into January. Kodiak was healing quickly and spent long hours away from the rest of them. Sometimes he roused Otis from his favorite spot in front of the fireplace and sometimes he went alone. The sun was bright in the sky but it didn’t give off much warmth. The breeze from the north brought the temperatures down and they kept the fire roaring to ward of the cold.
His buffalo robe kept him warm as he made preparations, sometimes using Otis, sometimes working by himself. He didn’t answer them truthfully when they asked him where he’d been all day. Just double checking the fence line he would say. It’s our weakest point.
They were all busy. The cold made every task harder and they took much longer but they were doing all right. Sometimes Kodiak had to remind himself of that. They had managed to survive when almost everyone else hadn’t.
Them.
A bunch of kids who should have been dead the first week.
They had toughened up, all of them had grown hard. Six months ago, he couldn’t imagine seven-year old’s getting up at the crack of dawn, dressing themselves and going out to milk the cow and feed the chickens. Somebody would have called child protective services. He couldn’t imagine the twins walking into school with braided hair and covered in Celtic tattoos. Somebody would have been going to jail for allowing it to happen. He grinned when he thought of Donny and Swan walking down the hallways with their wolves and panther padding quietly by their side, faces blackened with soot and blooded weapons in their hands. Somebody would have called a SWAT team. Or Vanessa with her tribal scars and spears wearing little more than a loincloth and feathers riding an ostrich like it was a chocobo from a video game. He could imagine the gasps and wide eyes of the other kids as he and Otis lumbered into a classroom. It would be a heck of a show and tell.
They had done more and grown up faster in the past few months than most people did their entire lives. They had spilled the blood of their enemies, fought and killed and had faced death more times than they cared to remember. He was proud of his tribe.
It felt like it was warming up a little, there wasn’t much wind but it was coming from the south and it didn’t have the same frosty bite. Kodiak grabbed his robe off of an abandoned car and surveyed his handiwork. Otis saw that he was finally ready to go and hauled himself to his feet to nuzzle him. It had been a while since he’d had his ears scratched and nobody could do it as good as the boy. He knew just the right spots. Kodiak smiled, scratched his friend and listened to him grunt in pleasure then stretch his neck so he could get to the good spots under it. The sky was darkening and the clouds were heavy and hung low in the sky. Some of them were almost a deep purple color. The air was still and it looked like snow. A lot of it. They started the long trek back home as Otis hurried along with his pigeon-toed walk. He had a spot in front of the fire waiting for him.
50
Tribe
It was full dark by the time they made it back to the house, even though it was barely four o’clock. The snows were coming in from the north, thick fat flakes that covered the ground quickly. It fell heavily on Piedmont house and showed no signs of slowing as the twins brought out the bowls of venison chili and their first attempt at home made cheese. It was lumpy and had the consistency of runny playdoh, not at all like orange shredded cheddar they used to pile high on Coney dogs. Tobias looked defiantly around the table, daring them to say something, anything at all, about his cheese. It had taken him nearly a month to make it and he was determined to eat it no matter what. Under his glaring eye, they all complimented him on the chili and made their excuses to pass on the gooey bowl of yellowish slop.
“Good. More for us.” he said, and tried to spoon some into Annalise’s bowl. She covered it and jerked it away quickly.
“Uh, I’m on a diet.” she said.
“Since when?” he asked. “If anything you need to gain weight.”
She ignored him, shooed one of the monkeys off the table and started in on her chili.
“Fine.” he said. “The animals can have your share. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
He set it on the floor for the foxes and cubs who were there begging and they backed off after one sniff. Neither would touch it.
Swan started giggling, tried to disguise it as a cough. Her face was turning red from trying to hold the laughter in but it was contagious. As they watched Tobias try to get any of the critters to try it the snickers and coughs got worse. Cody was fit to burst, his eyes bulged from holding his breath and holding in the booming laugh that was going to break free any second. One of Murrays’ monkeys finally took a proffered piece of it and stuffed it into her mouth. She screamed her high-pitched monkey scream, spit it out and ran and they couldn’t control themselves any more. The dining room erupted in raucous laughter, purifying laughter that had tears running down their faces. Every time they would taper off to catch their breath, someone would scream like the Capuchin and it would start again.
“You guys suck.” Tobias said, but even he finally admitted the cheese was pretty rancid.
Candlelight, children’s laughter, the warmth of the fire and love filled the rooms as a soft, yellow light glowed through the windows pushing away the darkness and the falling snow.
Kodiak listened to their even, steady breathing over the sounds of the wind whipping through the eves and couldn’t sleep. They had gotten into the habit of winding down and going to bed early, usually shortly after nightfall, because they got up early. It was the real first snow in weeks, the first chance Gordon would have to come after them, and it was turning into a regular blizzard. Would he wait until the weather was calm? Would he come in the daytime? Was he wrong and maybe they weren’t coming at all? He had an uneasiness settling over him and he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. He couldn’t leave his tribe unguarded and vulnerable.
What would Gordon do?
Gordon and his band of goons would probably use darkness and the storm as cover. They would come like a thief in the night because they didn’t want to kill everyone, probably just him. They wanted the girls. They could be sneaking up on the porch right now with cans of gas. They might be planning on burning them out and taking them prisoner as they fled. They might have gunners at every door waiting for the animals to panic and…
He sat up and Otis chuffed at him. He felt the tension in his companion and didn’t hesitate when Kodiak threw aside the blankets and clicked his tongue for him to come.
When they stepped out onto the porch, he almost changed his mind. The gusts pulled at him and whipped snow across his face. The moon and stars were hidden as the storm gained strength and started to dump its full fury on northeastern Iowa. The wind howled out of the northern sky, eliciting mournful moans and creaks from the old house and it promised more. He thought about the long walk ahead that would probably be for nothing, the weather was turning worse and only an idiot would be out in it. He thought longingly of his bed that would still be toasty warm near the fire. Then he thought of all they would lose if he was right, if Gordon would want to use the storm to his advantage. If he decided to do the easy thing and go back to sleep, they would have no advance warning. Gordon had already tried to kill Otis once; he had no doubt the bear would be their first target. He rubbed his ears where he liked them to be rubbed and made his decision. He pulled the hood up on the buffalo cloak and started down the steps.
“C’mon, Otis. I guess we’ll be fools tonight even if no one else is.”
Kodiak set across the park in a steady jog, one he could keep up for hours and set a quick enough pace where the bear wouldn’t get distracted. They made it to the old stone church with its caved in roof, shattered stain glass and fire scorched walls and sought shelter from the wind. He’d been working on and off, making his crude defenses for weeks. He knew when they came, it would be in the snow and it would be cold. They had heated snowmobile suits and hand warmers and all he had was Otis but it was enough. The road curved in a long, looping hor
seshoe around a bend in the river and from the church, he could see them coming from a long way off. It wasn’t far as a crow flies but if they followed the road, it was a mile or two. He had a windbreak with good visibility and between the bear and the buffalo robe, he wasn’t worried about freezing to death.
Otis was snoring softly within minutes as Kodiak settled in beside him and watched for headlights. Would his traps work? Would they stand a chance when it finally went down? Was he wasting his time waiting for something that might not happen?
His thoughts wandered. Their survival was a miracle in itself. Of all the places he could have been, he was in one of the safest spots in the world. They hadn’t seen another living adult in the months since the outbreak. If it had been a Monday, he’d have been sitting at school stealing glances at the pretty girls he’d never had the nerve to talk to. He would have been watching the clock, wishing for lunch so he could feed his growling stomach and looking forward to after school. He and his friends would race to their homes and fire up the game consoles and wage war with and against each other. Now, he was getting ready to wage another kind of war. One that didn’t have a reset button if you got yourself killed.
He was angry. He was defiant. He was tired of it all. He had worried about the threat the Riders posed for weeks. His stomach had been in knots at the thought of what he would have to do to keep his tribe safe. Even after he came up from the water, baptized and changed and convinced he was right, the old Cody nagged at him.
He was going to hurt them.
Hurt them bad.
Probably kill a few of them if his ambush worked out.
He would be a murderer.
He didn’t want this. He wanted to live in peace. He’d tried to help Gordon. Tried to do what was right. He didn’t have a beef with the others but they had made their choice and they would have to live with it. Maybe die for it.
He’d made peace with his decision. He told himself he would feel no more remorse for them than a bear felt for a fish when he killed it. He didn’t do it for meanness or spite, he did it to survive. Kodiak was doing the same thing. He wouldn’t have to hurt them if they weren’t coming for him. He wouldn’t have to kill them if they would have stayed home and left him alone.
He was warm and comfortable wrapped in his robe, soaking up the heat coming off Otis and he must have dozed off. It took him a moment to recognize that the lights cutting through the snow far up the road weren’t reflections. He heard them then, the wind carried the high-pitched whine of screaming engines and Otis raised his head.
They were coming.
They were coming!
He sprang to his feet and raced to the old maple tree. He grabbed the cable TV wire and yanked it tight. It popped up from the road, sending the covering snow flying away as he tied it in place about three feet above the surface. He ran the next tree, pulled thicker electric line into place and locked it in position less than a foot from the asphalt.
Otis stood, shook the snow from his fur and sniffed the wind.
The mosquito buzz of the two-stroke engines was getting louder and he could make out the individual headlights. They were running single file and spread out for a long way. He’d hoped they’d be bunched up, running in a tight pack down the road so he could take most of them out but his ambush wouldn’t get them all. Maybe only two or three if he was lucky.
It won’t be long, he thought. He felt the churning in his stomach, his nerves raw and on edge. He would do what he had to tonight.
He’d hurt them.
He’d kill them.
He’d do it so maybe the others wouldn’t have to. He felt a twinge of regret, not being able to say goodbye because he was pretty sure he knew how this was going to end. He couldn’t get all of the riders and it was too late to abandon the plan and run. They’d see his tracks and follow. They’d kill Otis for sure, him more than likely, then continue to the house where they were all nestled under their blankets by the fireplace. Warm and safe.
He had to take the battle to them, maybe if he did enough damage, they’d get scared and turn back. Maybe he could tell them the others were waiting with similar ambushes and they’d all be dead before they made it to the house.
He pulled the last cable tight, tied it off, gripped his Warhammer and waited. Otis felt his tension, growled and started chuffing. He sensed a fight was coming, he could smell the machines and hear their angry buzz over the wind and whipping snow. He stood on his hind legs and roared a warning.
A panther answered and Kodiak whirled to see them running out of the woods by the church. They materialized in the snowy mist like phantoms. Yewan, ebony black against the pure white snow and Donny: armored and armed with his spear with only his eyes visible through the protective gear. They hurried toward him and he felt a new chill run down his spine. His brother was here. The hunter and his cat.
Behind him came Tobias and Annalise, battle axes in hand, cloaked in coyote hides, astride their polar bears. The big bears puffed out white smoke as they galloped along, the twins had their faces painted for war like Vikings of old and Kodiaks heart swelled.
Swan appeared other worldly in her hyena cloak, its ears sticking up, its head covered hers and Zero loped alongside her. Both were painted for war and wore collars of hyena fangs and claws; hers for decoration, his for protection. She wore red slashes of paint on her soot blackened face and Zero had red handprints on his hindquarters. The beads and feathers and acorns twisted into her dark hair clacked together like a wind chime.
She had her bow slung over a shoulder, a quiver of arrows protruding over the other and her tomahawks hung in their holsters. She wore a grim expression and Kodiak wasn’t sure if she looked like an avenging angel or a demon from the pits of Hell. Maybe a little of both.
Vanessa and Ziggy followed behind, ready for whatever was going to happen. She had her spear in one hand and with the other she tried to reassure Ziggy who was agitated and unaccustomed to the severe temperatures.
Bert faded into view out of the snow with Harper riding high on his back, a morning star in her hand.
Kodiak wasn’t surprised to see them but he had been prepared to fight the Riders alone. Prepared to die alone if it came down to that.
But he wasn’t and he realized that he’d never been alone. The tribe had been there every step of the way since this all began months ago. From the time they’d comforted him over the loss of his mother and through all his decisions, good and bad, they’d been there. Solid and dependable. More than friends. More than family. A tribe.
“We knew what you were doing.” Swan said “And we know why. It’s not your fight to fight alone. It’s all of ours.”
The headlights dancing through the trees were getting closer, they were on the long curve just before the straight stretch and his traps.
“We have to hurry.” Kodiak said and snatched up the wooden spears with the road flares attached a few inches down from the points.
He handed them up to Vanessa on the side-stepping ostrich and pointed up the road. “Light them when they stop. Aim for the gas cans strapped to the machines.”
She nodded, gigged Ziggy and they raced off to find a place to get out of sight.
“The rest of you spread out, both sides of the road.” Kodiak said. “Remember, they have guns. We have to hit them hard and fast. If one guy starts shooting, he can kill us all.”
They melted back into the shadows of the woods, disappeared in the snow storm, and each shivered in anticipation.
51
Gordon
Gordon and the other Riders flew down the highway, the snowmobiles eating up the miles on the covered roads. They were built for whatever winter threw at them: top of the line, high dollar machines that were popular in the north. They drove fast, warm in their heavy suits and motocross gear they wore beneath them. He could taste the victory already and he smiled under his full-face helmet at the thoughts of revenge. The plan to attack tonight had been Richards but he’d helped by answeri
ng hundreds of questions. It was a good plan, he approved. With most of the animals either hibernating or penned up in the barn, they would only have a few to deal with. They all crashed out in the same room, gathered around the fireplace, and at two in the morning they would catch them sleeping. They never locked the doors and they would wake up to the sounds of gunshots putting down their animals. They’d never expect it with the storm raging, it would be a quick and easy victory. They could tie up the boys, maybe beat on them a little if they got sassy then break in the new girls. He knew he’d never get first dibs on Harper or any of the others for that matter. He’d come to terms with it, though. They’d get tired of her after a few months and then he could move in and claim her as his own. He’d get Richard to tell them to leave her alone. They were family so he probably would. He was looking forward to seeing Skull or Gargoyle have their fun with Swan. Those two were pretty rough on the girls back at the Landing and Richard had to tell them to tone it down more than once. If they kept it up, they were going to break them. That would teach the wolf girl to get on his bad side.
The snowmobile handled like a dream, the heated seat and handlebars dispelled the cold, the fairings kept the wind off him.
He carried a .32 caliber revolver tucked inside the pocket of the snowsuit. Richard had called it a popgun with its little bullets, but Gordon liked how small it was and easy to hide. He’d turned down the big guns offered to him by the other guys. It would do just fine for the job he had in mind.
He couldn’t wait to hear Cody beg and plead. He planned on sitting on top of Otis’s bullet riddled body with Cody trussed up at his feet listening to Harper scream and cry as they took turns with her. He wanted to laugh at his pain and when the time was right, he’d shoot him in the knee caps with his little pop gun. It wouldn’t kill him but he’d never run again and he’d never be able to win a fight. One little tap to the leg would send him tumbling to the ground.
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