The Wolves of Winter

by Tyrell Johnson

  Conrad rubbed his beard. “You lying to me, Jeryl?”

  Jeryl didn’t have his gun in hand. I felt my palms start to sweat.

  “Not lying, Conrad.”

  Conrad looked over at the truck. “They got anything good?” What an asshole question.

  “You’re welcome to it,” Jeryl said.

  Conrad fished around, took a knife, rope, and one of the guns.

  “So you’re sure no one else is coming this way?”

  “Never said that.”

  We all watched as Conrad gathered his loot and happily waddled back through the snow toward his cabin.

  “Be seeing ya,” Conrad chimed. But it sounded like a threat.

  * * *

  The bodies were gone, Conrad was gone, and we were shoveling bloody snow out of our path when Mom hollered at us. Jax was awake. As we went about the cleanup, she’d been put in charge of watching over him. We all went for the cabin, and Jeryl didn’t tell any of us we weren’t allowed in. We deserved to know what the hell was going on.

  Jax was conscious, but he didn’t look good. He had a purple bruise already on the side of his head where Jeryl had knocked him. He looked at each of us calmly as we entered, his hands tied behind the back of the chair, the rope running around and around his chest and legs. Mom sat backward in another chair, gun propped up against the back of it, pointing at him.

  “What the hell, Mom? Put the gun down,” I said.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “Look at him. What is he gonna do?” My voice was rising.

  “You saw him out there. You saw what he did to those men.”

  “He saved my life.”

  “You have to let me go,” Jax said, and the room went quiet. “Now.”

  “I don’t have to do anything,” Jeryl said. “You, on the other hand, have a lot to answer for.”

  “Answer for?” Ramsey said. “He just killed three people.”

  “One of those people had a knife to my neck,” I said. “I don’t think they were exactly friendly, Ramsey.” I looked at Jax; he nodded.

  Jeryl took a step forward. “You need to start talking.”

  “You don’t understand,” Jax said. “He’s going to get others. They’re going to come here. Those men were not traders. They’re a threat.”

  “Who’s going to get others? What others?” Mom asked.

  “The man who got away on the horse. Nayan. The horse was wounded. If he rides it hard, which he will, he’ll ride it to death. I might still have a chance of catching him if I leave now.”

  He didn’t look like he was in much shape to travel. Why was he so desperate?

  “Who were those men?” Jeryl asked.

  “Bad men.”

  “See?” Ramsey said, throwing his arms up in the air. “He’s a murderer.”

  “They’re with Immunity,” Jax said. “No doubt they have a camp nearby. Those men were scouts. They’re looking for me. Banner realized who I was. I had no choice.”

  “You had no choice but to kill them?” Jeryl’s owlish eyebrows dropped.

  “You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

  “Why is Immunity looking for you?”

  “They want information.”

  “About what?”

  “About me. About the flu. I was a part of their research. I escaped from them during the wars and have been running ever since.”

  “What does that mean? Part of their research?”

  “They were studying me.”

  “Why? What the hell are you? What you did to those men . . .”

  Jax’s eyes were blank, dead. “They’re going to come back for me.”

  “And if they do?”

  “They’ll take me. At best they’ll quarantine you and your family. They might let you go. They might not.”

  Jeryl took a step forward. “Why?”

  “I can’t explain it all right now. You have to let me go.”

  Outside, we could hear Wolf pacing in the snow, pushing his paws at the door every once in a while with a grumble that sounded all too human.

  “I dunno if I can do that,” Jeryl said.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t trust you.”

  “You can trust me.”

  “How do I know that? You’re not telling us everything.”

  “There’s no time to tell you everything. I don’t want to hurt any of you, but I can’t stay here. You’re not safe while I’m here.” He looked around the room for support. I made sure I didn’t look away when his gaze met mine.

  “Why should I believe you?” Jeryl asked.

  “Because I could break free and kill you all before Mary here has a chance to fire her gun. I could. But I’m not going to.”

  He hadn’t said it like a threat. He was simply stating a fact.

  “You’re hog-tied to the chair, son. You’re not going anywhere. Besides, Mary’s got a bead on you and a twitchy trigger finger.” Mom adjusted the gun on the chair, aiming down the barrel at his chest.

  “First of all,” Jax said, “the safety is still on.” He started to turn, to twist. “Second . . .”

  He stretched his arms back and his shoulders forward and then raised his elbows, and somehow, the ropes fell beside him. It took only a few seconds. Less than that. A second. Half a second. Then he pulled off the ropes around his legs like they were wet noodles. Jeryl had tied those knots himself. And Jeryl tied a good knot.

  “Jeryl,” Mom said, rising from her chair.

  Jeryl raised his rifle. “What the hell?” Panic wrinkled his old eyes.

  “Relax,” Jax said, hands raised.

  “One more move and we shoot,” Jeryl said.

  “I’m going to get up now and walk out that door. I have to stop that man before he reaches the others. Honestly, your best option is probably to shoot me, and when they come for you, show them my dead body. But even then, I can’t guarantee they’ll leave you alone.” He stood up, hands still in the air. “But if you aren’t going to shoot me, then please get out of my way.” He looked at me then. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Jeryl and Mom moved toward him as Ken raised his gun too. Three guns, one man with hands in the air.

  “Jeryl!” I heard myself say, like I was somewhere else, watching myself say it. “You can’t just kill him.”

  “Why not?” Jeryl asked. It sounded like a genuine question. He was looking for a reason, any reason.

  Jax walked slowly around him, heading for the door.

  Jeryl lowered his gun. “Dammit. Let him go.”

  “What? We can’t just let him go,” Mom said. “If it’s Immunity, they’re going to—”

  “I know,” Jeryl said. Something unspoken passed between him and Mom. They knew something they weren’t telling me. I didn’t get it. And I didn’t like it.

  “Thank you,” Jax said as he opened the door. The old wood swung, then clattered shut behind him.

  Jeryl shouldered his gun. “I’m going with him.”

  13

  After the flu hit North America and started spreading like the wildfires burning across Utah and Kansas, Immunity was everywhere. And I knew they were everywhere because they showed up in Eagle. Eagle, Alaska. Hometown of nothing and no one interesting. But there they were. Men with the white star on their shoulders. I’d see them talking to our sheriff, coming and going from people’s homes. The flu hadn’t hit Eagle yet, but they still handed out masks and gloves. Then they blocked the roads in and out of town. Quarantined. No one could come or go.

  Weirdest thing was when they came to our house.

  Mom answered the door while Ken was watching some shoot-’em-up movie on TV. Plenty of swearing, plenty of blood. I was pretending not to like it. But I kinda did.

  “Can I help you?” Mom asked when she opened the door, her voice stonier than usual.

  It was a man. Short, curly hair, glasses, and a surgical mask covering his face. He was wearing a slick blue coat with the white star of Immunity pinned
to the shoulder.

  “Morning, ma’am, sorry to bother you. My name is Todd Rutherford, I’m with the DCIA, we—”

  “I know who you are,” Mom said. Why did she sound so harsh? This was pre-Yukon Mom. She wasn’t that feisty yet.

  “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

  “I really don’t have time right now.” She started to shut the door in the man’s face.

  His hand slapped against the wood, just above the handle. “Please.” He pulled his mask down and grinned. His teeth were sinister. “It’ll take only a moment of your time. We’ve talked to most of the town already.”

  She stepped back.

  “Thank you,” he said, his hand falling from the door. He took out a small notepad and pen. “How many people in this household?”

  “Three.”

  Three? Mom, Dad, me, and Ken equaled four.

  “Ages?”

  “My husband’s forty-five. I’m forty-two. Our son is eighteen.” Todd glanced around Mom’s shoulders at me.

  “The girl?”

  “His girlfriend.”

  What? What did she say? Did she just disown me? What the hell?

  “Names?”

  “John, I’m Stacy, and our son is . . . Brian.”

  Fake names? What was going on?

  The man furrowed his eyebrows. “How do you spell John?”

  “With an h.”

  “And what are your occupations?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Mom crossed her arms over her chest.

  Todd’s eyes stayed on his notepad. “Part of the census. Occupations?”

  Mom let out a huff, but Todd still didn’t look up. “I work at the school. In the library. John works with his brother, Jeryl, in construction.”

  Dad didn’t work construction. He was a biologist. He’d always been a biologist. Why was she lying? I looked at Ken to see if he was listening to this, but his eyes were glazed over, his concentration on the TV.

  “Any of you sick in the last two months?” Todd asked.

  “No.”

  “Sniffles? Allergies? Cough? Nothing?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Been visiting anyone who is sick?”

  “No.”

  “No family, close friend?”

  “Nope.”

  “You all been wearing your masks and gloves?”

  “When we need to.”

  “You really should wear them when answering the door.”

  “Next time.”

  “Great,” he said, lifting his pen from his paper and looking up at Mom. Mom stiffened. “And your husband. Is he around?”

  “No, why?”

  I sat up. He was around. He was in his lab. In the basement.

  “I need to ask him a few more questions.”

  “Like what? You can ask me,” she said.

  He grinned again, those teeth. “Do you know when he might be back?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  His gaze drifted over Mom’s shoulder. I slunk back down on the couch as his eyes found me again.

  “Thank you for your time, ma’am.” He started to turn around. “Oh, and what was your last name?”

  “Fabre,” she said. Not McBride.

  “Fabre,” the man repeated. He didn’t write it down. He just snapped his mask back on his face and walked away.

  “Mom, what was that?” I asked after she’d shut the door.

  “Nothing,” she said, staring out the window. I waited for her to continue. Instead she turned toward the basement, opening and closing the door so fast she barely had time to slip between the crack and disappear down the dark cement steps.

  * * *

  “You can’t be serious,” Mom said as Jeryl threw a few things into a bag. Binoculars, dried meat, potatoes, carrots, a thermos of water, kindling, a fire starter, pan, blanket, and lots of ammo.

  “It’s the safest bet. We can’t keep him tied up, and I’m not going to kill him. This way, I can keep an eye on him. He runs off, we have no idea if he’s coming back, who he’s coming back with. If he’s right, and Immunity are looking for him, they’ll find us. Besides, I’ve got a gun. He doesn’t. If I smell anything fishy . . .”

  “He took your gun easy enough last time,” Ramsey said, and Ken smacked him behind the head. Ramsey swore, glared, and rubbed his head but didn’t do anything.

  “I gotta go before he gets too far away,” Jeryl said.

  “You’re an idiot, Jeryl, you know that?” Mom said.

  “Always known that,” Jeryl answered, shouldering his bag. “Ken, take care of everyone. Lynn, take care of Ken.”

  We all watched him go. Just like that. Trudging north up the hill after Jax and Wolf. Disappearing from our lives.

  * * *

  I needed to go hunting. What else was I supposed to do? Mom didn’t want me to go. “We have enough food,” she said. “We need to stick together till Jeryl’s back.” There was real fear in her eyes, muddled with anger at Jax.

  “I won’t be gone long,” I said, hefting my bow. “And I won’t go far.” Just far enough to get out of my head. To distance myself from our cabins, from the truck, from the snow that still wasn’t clear of blood, from the fact that Jax was gone and Jeryl had up and left us. And from the questions. Why was Immunity after Jax? If they were still around, who else was out there? Who was Jax, really? Were these men going to kill him?

  I headed east toward the Blackstone with my bow, four arrows, my knife, a bottle of water, and a hunk of dried venison in my pocket. I wandered the hills. I didn’t follow any kind of path. I just pushed through dead bushes and bent pine trees. Made my way to the river and followed it, barely bothering to keep my eyes and ears open for any sign of game. The air was cold in my throat, and the snow felt heavy beneath me. I kept at it for a while, maybe an hour, before I realized that I was on the hill just east of our homestead again. And I was heading north.

  I hadn’t set out to follow Jax and Jeryl. I don’t even remember thinking about it. But when I found their footsteps in the snow, I started tracking them. With each step, I felt the familiar desire to get out, see the world. And now there they were, out there, Jax and Jeryl, pulling me along like I was attached to a string. If I was ever going to get away, this was my chance. “I won’t go far,” I’d said to Mom. I pressed my boots into Jeryl’s prints, our cabins disappearing behind me.

  14

  I ran away once before. If you could call it running away. Ken was being an ass, and Mom and Dad were arguing. Dad was working in the basement and hadn’t been out all day. Mom wanted him to come up for dinner; he wanted to keep working. Cue yelling match. Not a completely abnormal day, but for some reason, I’d had enough. So I hopped on my bike and rode like mad. It was a six-speed mountain bike. Nothing girlie about it.

  It was a warm spring day. The flu had already landed in Eagle. And after the first few cases, Immunity disappeared. No warning or anything. Just one day, their cars and trucks were gone. Maybe only half the town was left. The other half had died or fled.

  The sun had already bled out over the horizon and was casting a bright purple glow into the sky as I pedaled along the street. The air was somehow both cool and warm, and crickets were trumpeting away in the grass. It would be dark soon, and I didn’t want to get too far away from the house, so I circled the block a few times. I remember seeing boxes in front of a few homes. The Bakers had already left, and some kids had thrown rocks through the windows of their abandoned house.

  The first few stars had opened their eyes when Dad slowed next to me in his truck.

  “Mom made meat loaf,” he said through the window. “Smells awful.”

  I tossed my bike in the back and jumped in. He wasn’t mad. Didn’t even lecture me for being out without my mask.

  “Just needed some air?”

  “Yeah.” I stared out the window.

  “You know,” he said before turning the truck around, “family’s got to stick together, no mat
ter what happens. You’re strong by yourself, but you’re stronger with your family.”

  “I guess so.”

  “I know so.” He smiled, but there were rings under his eyes. He wasn’t sick yet, but whatever he was doing in the basement was starting to suck him dry. I decided to ask him about it.

  “What are you working on in the basement, Dad?”

  His smile seemed to tighten. “I’m . . . trying to fix something.”

  “What?”

  He thought about it a moment, then laughed. “The whole goddamn world, Lynn.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was kidding.

  * * *

  Here’s the thing about snow.

  It’s beautiful, no doubt. As a kid, I used to watch out our window as it drifted around the streetlamps, hoping it meant school would be canceled. But school was pretty much never canceled for snow in Eagle. Still, it was fun to dream.

  But while most would say that snow envelops the world in a calm, frozen blanket, it doesn’t. It smothers the world into submission. You know this if you’ve been out in it for days at a time. You don’t know this if your experience with snow is watching it float gently down from the comfort of your heated house, curled up next to a fire with a warm drink in your hand.

  Snow is beautiful, snow is calming, snow is a cold bitch.

  The storm hit about two hours north of our homestead. We’d already seen plenty of storms that year, but nothing this furious. Just as I decided to go gallivanting—that’s a Dad word if I’ve ever heard one—into the wilderness, BAM! Storm of the century. Of course.

  It started out gently. The clouds moved in and hung low overhead, grasping for the ground. Fat frozen flakes began to fall from the sky and got picked up in the wind, which tossed them like spinning saucers right at my face. Then the flakes grew thicker, the wind stronger, until there was so much snow falling and blowing up from the ground that I could barely see three feet ahead. Didn’t help that it was starting to get dark too. Impossible to see where I was going. Impossible to keep a steady footing. Impossible to see the footprints I’d been following or even to keep in one direction. In a storm like that, there’s really only one thing to do: make shelter, ride it out, survive. I thought about turning back to the cabin. But I’d been pushing through for too long, was too disoriented. If I turned around, there was no guarantee I’d be heading in the right direction. I’d be just as lost. I figured Jeryl and Jax had to have made some sort of shelter close by. I could find it. I just had to keep going. Bad logic. The worse the storm got, the more tired I became, the more my chances of survival plummeted.