Ice: Deluge Book 4: (A Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Story)

by Kevin Partner

  “A storm is gathering,” Yuri said, pulling the coat around his shoulders and moving unsteadily off as snow began to settle.

  They walked beside the highway, threading their way between groups of people who stood, looking upwards and feeling the snow on their faces.

  Bobby kept close to Yuri now, insisting that they halt every few minutes, though he was becoming desperately worried about the cold.

  And now it was getting dark. Dark enough for the flashing lights of a police car to paint the buildings and people red, blue and light.

  “A state of emergency has been declared by White Pine County. Please return to your homes immediately.”

  “I have bad feeling about this,” Yuri said. “Snow comes here often?”

  “I doubt it,” Bobby replied, watching as the flashing lights retreated along the highway. “Jeez, I’m cold.”

  Yuri grunted. “It is like warm day in Siberia.”

  Bobby looked at him in the light of a shuttered shop. The Russian was shivering. “We need to get some extra clothes.”

  “Not here,” Yuri said, gesturing at the sign propped in front of the shutters: Music Lessons.

  “We can try there,” Bobby said, guiding Yuri along.

  “What is Mountain Lanes?”

  Bobby got him to stand in the shelter of a doorway. “Bowling alley. Looks closed. Worth a look. Wait here.”

  He checked for any sign of a security camera and, seeing none, slipped around the side of the building, returning a few minutes later with two jackets: one blue denim, the other a light pink.

  Chuckling, Yuri watched as Bobby turned the pink one inside out, took off his jacket, then put on the stolen one before his own. “There, you cannot see you wear ladies’ clothes.”

  “Come on. This snow’s getting worse, and I don’t want to be nearby if they notice their coats are gone.”

  They struggled on as the snow deepened and began to form shallow drifts that piled up against the sides of buildings and the edge of the road. This was beginning to feel like a hopeless mission. If the snow continued for much longer, they wouldn’t be able to take off even if they could somehow get control of a plane.

  Cold seeped into his toes and spread along his feet and into his legs, seeming to pull the warmth from the rest of his body as if he were slowly turning into a White Walker. A black shroud fell upon his shoulders as the world around him turned pale and sterile, the sidewalk now practically empty, no cars moving.

  As he stumbled forward, he felt himself being pulled sideways. He heard Yuri mumble, “You sit here.” And the Russian was gone. He didn’t give it any more thought as he looked around him, his backside going numb as he crouched on a low brick wall.

  Moments later, he felt something being pressed into his hand. “Drink this.” He did as he was told, feeling warmth spreading down his throat and then, finally realizing where he was and what was happening.

  “It is viski. Bourbon,” Yuri said. “I ask for vodka, but Smirnoff, it is horse mocha. This is better. A little. Here, have more.”

  Bobby tried to resist. Well, he imagined trying to resist, but took another swig as the bottle was offered. “I…I don’t drink,” he said.

  “What? Religion?”

  “No. Borderline alcoholic.”

  Yuri leaned back, raising his eyebrows. “Me too. Also I am cold. I know alcohol does not really help, but it feels like it.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  Yuri thumbed over his shoulder. “Store here. Gave him real cosmonaut watch.”

  “What?”

  “Dead cosmonaut has no need to tell time. I do not think he believed me, but is nice watch anyway.”

  “How much more of that have you got?”

  Yuri held up an almost-full bottle, and Bobby sighed. “You better keep it. If I have any more, I won’t go anywhere tonight.”

  He watched hungrily as Yuri tucked the bottle into his jacket and nodded. “Understood. I will keep for emergency only.”

  They supported each other as they staggered upright. Bobby massaged his legs, feeling a little warmth spreading through them and the familiar slight fuzziness in his mind. He hadn’t drunk enough for it to transform into the panicked mania that had seen him reach his lowest point. That had been the best part of twenty years ago when he was a young man, but he remembered it well enough.

  How long could he go on? Right now, it didn’t matter. He would keep walking with his friend for as long as the Russian could manage. He was the one who’d been in space for months, after all, not Bobby.

  So, he walked alongside Yuri as he leaned on his walking stick and struggled past the pumps of a Texaco gas station to a four-way intersection, its lights punching through the steadily falling snow, turning it momentarily green, then red.

  Then, as they reached the other side and looked out over the snow settling on the highway, they saw the sign: Ely Airport.

  “Which way we go?” Yuri asked, his Russian accent becoming thicker as the alcohol took effect.

  Bobby examined the scene. The sky was now entirely dark, and he could see nothing between the Texaco lights and what was presumably an airport building.

  “We head straight for it,” Bobby said.

  “Then what?”

  Bobby turned to the Russian, who stood, breath misting in the cold air. “We steal a plane and fly out of here.”

  “Oh, easy as that,” Yuri said. “And where do we go?”

  “To Denver. You know this.”

  Yuri nodded. “And how do we navigate?”

  Bobby paused for a moment, surprised. “You’re the pilot.”

  “I am sorry, but I do not navigate by stars. Even if I could see them.”

  “Why did you wait until now to tell me?”

  “I thought you had a plan.”

  Bobby sighed. “What do we do?”

  “Only thing we can do. Kidnap pilot.”

  Bobby could see no movement as he and Yuri made their slow way along the highway toward the entrance to the airport. It was no surprise that all flights had been cancelled given the conditions, especially at a small regional airport, but Bobby kept his pistol to his chest, ready to respond to any threat, however unlikely.

  This was insanity, they both knew it. But better to be moving on this deadly cold night, and if they were going to find any shelter, it would be up ahead.

  “There,” Yuri said, gesturing over at a lamp-lit sign on the other side of the chain-link fence. “Flight Center.”

  Bobby shrugged. “Okay.” It was a rectangular building of corrugated metal sheet—perhaps a hangar. And it was as good a place as any to shelter for the night. He found himself hoping they wouldn’t find anyone there and could just get some unmolested sleep.

  They took a left off the highway into the entrance to the airport. The reception building looked empty with only external lights helping them see the snow-lined road that led to their target. They trudged along, and were within fifty yards of the hangar when Yuri fell with a cry, taking Bobby with him.

  “Legs,” Yuri said. “Can’t…”

  Bobby got onto his knees, feeling wet cold soak his legs as he did so, then half stood, bracing himself to haul on Yuri’s stocky frame. “Come on, we’ve got to get to the hangar.”

  “Sorry…niet.”

  “You’ve got to!” Bobby yelled, grabbing the man’s shoulders and shaking him. “Or it’ll all be for nothing! I don’t know the encryption code, so all I’ll have is a dead Russian and a wild story.”

  He reached into Yuri’s pocket and pulled out the bottle of whiskey, inhaling the tempting smell then pouring some into his mouth. Yuri choked, spitting most of it out.

  “Come on!”

  “Niet.” He shook his head.

  “It’s only a few yards! You can make it!”

  Still he shook his head. “What…is point?”

  “What?”

  “My country is…gone. My…wife. Son. I stay here and go to join them soon.”

/>   Bobby stared openmouthed at the pale face of the Russian as he lay there, suspended only by Bobby’s remaining strength. For the first time, he truly saw the utter despair in Yuri’s face. He’d hidden it for so long—or perhaps Bobby hadn’t been truly looking—but now, in sight of safety and the next stage of his journey, he’d allowed his grief to overtake him.

  In desperation, Bobby pulled out his wallet and opened it. “Look! Look, Godammit!”

  Slowly, reluctantly, Yuri opened his eyes.

  “That’s my daughter, Maria. I’m sorry, I truly am, about your family, but Maria needs us!”

  “What…it matter?”

  “Yuri, there’s something going on with the weather. With the Chinese. We have to understand it or it could be the end for all of us. Yuri, my friend. Do it for Maria. Do it for me. Just a few yards and you can rest, I promise. Just a few yards and we’ll toast the end of the world.”

  After an interminable pause, Yuri gave a tiny nod and Bobby felt the weight on his arms as the Russian pushed down with his arms into the melting snow.

  Together, inch by inch they stood until they were upright, clinging to each other as they each took a mouthful of whiskey before, arm in arm, they staggered toward the dark building.

  Chapter 18

  Patrick

  “I wish I could Google it,” Patrick said as he rubbed his stomach.

  Ellie sighed. She shared his concern, but wishing for things hadn’t, in her experience, helped much. Silicon Valley was underwater and, though the physical infrastructure of the internet was still intact in those parts of the country that were dry, without the “brains,” it was just so much fiberoptic cable, just so many tons of metal.

  They were driving down I-15 through Cedar City and the events at Amelia’s were now two days in the past.

  “I think my urine might have blood in it,” Patrick was saying. “Couldn’t that be a symptom of poisoning?”

  “Oh, don’t be such a hypochondriac,” Ellie snapped. Truth was, John, their rescuer, had told her that if any of the antifreeze had been absorbed in his system, it might affect Patrick’s kidneys. But it wouldn’t help for the actor himself to think that, so she shrugged off his complaining.

  They’d chosen not to stay with John for even one night, even though Patrick could have done with some bedrest to get over the raging hangover that followed the poisoning. But Ellie had pulled rank on Jodi, and though John was obviously disappointed—who wouldn’t be with only a mad old woman for company?—he’d given them the keys to the car left by the man she’d killed. It had the advantage of a nearly full tank of gas and no blown-out windows.

  Ellie had felt a little sorry for him. It must have been hard to be trapped between a deathbed promise to his father and the murderous desire of his father’s ex-wife. She admired him, that was for sure. There was no way she’d have been so devoted to someone like that, whatever promise she made. And that thought made her ashamed.

  “Pretty,” Patrick said. He was pointing at the distant mountains, snowcapped on the horizon. Cedar City itself rolled past beneath the highway, row after row of sand colored one-story buildings.

  They’d almost made it out of the city when a police car emerged from a slipway and flagged them down.

  “Where are you from?” the young woman said as Ellie rolled down the window.

  “We’re traveling from Denver to LA.”

  The police officer took off her sunglasses and peered at each of them. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  “He was poisoned by an old woman who wanted to make a ghost out of him so her dead ex-husband and granddaughter would have company.”

  The police officer’s eyes narrowed, as if she was trying to work out whether Ellie was making fun of her. Presently, she shrugged. “Not the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard. Not quite, anyways. You’re just passing through?”

  “Yeah.”

  The woman leaned on the door, her head inside the car. “Seen anything on your way?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. We hear rumors. Civil war, maybe.”

  Ellie shook her head. “Apart from the crazy old woman, we haven’t spoken to anyone. Not much traffic on the road, neither.”

  “So, what’s your business in LA?”

  “We’ve got family there.”

  The woman grunted. “Word is that Booker’s made himself president. You might not find yourself welcome there; he’s got a hell of a refugee problem.”

  “Like I say, we’ve got family there. We’re not refugees.”

  With a shake of her head, the police officer got to her feet. “That may not be exactly how they see it down there. But y’all look after yourselves, you hear me?”

  Ellie breathed again as the police car receded into the distance.

  That night they slept in the car, having pulled off Route 15 and into a landscape of red rock and red sand. Below them and to the left, a small creek ran sluggishly to the south, its banks tinged with white.

  “Jeez, it’ll be good to get to Vegas,” Patrick said, pulling the coat around himself.

  “Why?” Ellie asked, cupping a hot coffee that misted the insides of the windows.

  Patrick yawned. He was still weak from his near-death experience. “Oh, I dunno. I guess it represents the best and the worst of America. Of the old United States, anyway. It’ll be good to experience some hedonism for one night.”

  “What makes you think they’ll let us into the city?”

  Shrugging, Patrick reached in his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “We’ve got money. The slot machines will work, surely?”

  Ellie chuckled. Suddenly, the image of a man in a post-apocalyptic wasteland popped into her head. Everyone else was dead, but still he sat there with his cup of coins, pressing the button and watching the wheels spin.

  “I hope you’re right,” she said. “But even Vegas must have changed. It’s the biggest city for hundreds of miles around. I can’t imagine they’ll let just anyone in.”

  “Oh, ye of little faith,” Patrick said as he snuggled down. “Don’t forget, you’re in the company of a movie star.”

  Ellie sighed, sending out a huge cloud of breath to catch the moonlight. She lay on the reclined driver’s seat watching the moisture crystalize on the windshield.

  “How are you feeling?”

  Patrick moved in the half-light. “Sore, to be honest. My stomach and my kidneys. But it’s getting better. I think. Seems sometimes my charm is a double-edged sword.”

  “All being well, we’ll arrive in Vegas tomorrow.”

  The back seat groaned a little as Jodi rearranged herself. “Is that when our spying mission starts?”

  “No. Technically, we’re still in friendly territory until we cross the border with California. We’re just going to rest up for a day or two and then move on toward LA.”

  Jodi groaned. “I just want to see my dad.”

  “I know, love,” Patrick said. “Me too. But we need to work out how the land lies first. I hope he hasn’t got himself mixed up in anything since he got back, but we can’t afford to just blunder in. And we mustn’t forget our mission. This isn’t just about a family reunion, though by God I’m looking forward to seeing him.”

  “Are you cold?” Ellie asked.

  “Yeah, a bit. Aren’t we all?”

  “Fancy a swap, Jodi? I think Patrick needs a hug.”

  Jodi grumbled a little, got out of the car and then climbed into the front while Ellie helped Patrick clamber into the back.

  The last thing Ellie heard as she put her arms around Patrick, pulling him close, was Jodi settling herself back in. “Yeah, well, just keep it to a hug. You got me? I got a delicate stomach, too.”

  #

  They were directed off 93 by a soldier behind a barricade and joined a line that led to a truck stop. From where she was sitting, it looked pretty well organized to Ellie. Soldiers w
alked along the line and waved some vehicles immediately into the outer lane and back onto the highway. It seemed the authorities were using some sort of permit system because when Ellie’s car was approached, the woman in camouflage began by glancing at the car’s windshield before looking in through the side window.

  “What’s your business? Do you seek asylum?”

  That stumped Ellie for a moment. “Sorry?”

  “Are you looking for shelter? At Ragtown?”

  Shrugging, Ellie said, “Look, I’m really sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  The soldier sighed and straightened her sunglasses. “Where have you come from?”

  “Denver.”

  “That’s a long drive.” The young woman’s eyebrows disappeared behind the rim of her helmet. With her round, open face, she looked as though she’d be more at home working in a school than carrying an assault rifle. “Look, I’ve got to ask these questions, you understand?”

  Ellie nodded, trying to look friendly but aware that Patrick was beside her looking like death warmed up. “We got stuck in Denver, but we all come from LA.”

  The soldier’s face dropped. “You know it’s underwater?”

  “Yeah. We’re hoping to find our family, maybe in one of the camps.”

  “You know, if they escaped, they might have ended up at Ragtown. Lots of folks did.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  “It’s the biggest camp this side of the Rockies. If you’re looking for your folks, you could start there. Maybe save yourself a long drive.”

  Ellie glanced across at Patrick. He’d straightened himself up in an attempt to look less like a zombie. He whispered something out of the corner of his mouth. “Maria. You could check on Maria.”

  “Guys, I’ve got to move you on. I’ll give you a visitor pass to Ragtown, and a highway pass. It’s your choice. Just don’t try to come off the freeway, okay? If you want Ragtown, then follow signs south to Boulder City. Good sailing.”