Anton’s legs were aching from the hours of walking. But they were warm, and he pushed his muscles, picking up the pace. His heavy boots slogged through the snow as he struggled to keep up with Marshal, who was already more than ten feet ahead of him, rapidly approaching the snow-covered crop field.
6
James
James moved slowly through the pot farmers campsite. There wasn’t really much there. They’d already taken almost everything back to their own camp.
But James was convinced there had to be something of value there. Some forgotten tool. Or maybe another gun.
A box of spare ammunition would be great. It wasn’t like they had an endless supply. And James was already worried about the bullets lasting through the winter. In a post-EMP world, there was no mass manufacturing. No more bullets were being produced. And the ones that were left, well, they were being used up. Probably at a rapid rate.
Bullets were commodities now. But it wasn’t like they could go easy on their supply. If a threat presented itself, a bullet was usually the answer. The option to not shoot, not “waste” a bullet, simply didn’t exist.
Not in the world they lived in now.
James wasn’t the only one worried. Max and Georgia had had a serious discussion about setting up traps for deer. If they could spare the bullets used for hunting, it would get them a lot farther. The problem was that getting a deer snare to actually work was a lot harder than it sounded.
James suddenly realized that he should have gone to check the deer snares he and Max had set up yesterday.
For some reason, it hadn’t been on his mind.
Maybe he’d just been too intent to sneak off on his own. And to make some unique discovery that would impress the others.
After all, how cool would it have been if he’d found something at the camp they’d overlooked? Something incredibly useful.
But he felt stupid now. He felt like he’d been thinking of just himself, and not of the others.
After all, getting a deer snare to work would be of greater use to them all. Killing a deer without a bullet? That was just what they needed.
Feeling foolish, James decided then and there to turn back.
He was on the other side of the snow-covered pot field, and decided to go around the camp, rather than heading back through it.
Visibility was low. The snow was getting high. James didn’t have boots, just the high-top sneakers he’d worn to school. Snow was getting into them now, and his feet were freezing.
Max had lectured them on the dangers of frostbite. James could almost hear Max’s voice now, telling him that he’d already made one mistake today. The important thing, Max would have said, is not to make another.
James decided to head straight back to camp, rather than going out to check on the snare.
James could hardly see anything. He hoped he was heading in the right direction. He knew it’d be easy to get turned around in this snow. He wondered briefly whether this would count as a blizzard or not.
As far as James was concerned, it was a blizzard. And what was a “blizzard,” after all, but a technical classification that the television weather people slapped onto a storm.
A snowstorm was a snowstorm. It was either mild, bad, or severe. What you called it didn’t really matter.
Up ahead, in the wall of white snow, something suddenly appeared.
James stopped dead in his tracks.
It was a person. Standing there in the snow.
James could just see the person’s outline. And the outline of some type of rifle.
Was it a friend or enemy?
James didn’t have a rifle with him, and he suddenly felt naked without one. But he had the handgun that had originally come from the gate guards at the compound. It had a full magazine in it. Eight cartridges. But he didn’t have a spare mag with him.
James cursed himself again.
Should he wave? Shout something? Or simply retreat?
He couldn’t simply open fire. After all, it could have been Max or Mandy.
If he got closer, he’d be just as visible to the unknown person as they were to him.
Suddenly, the figure saw him. It turned towards James and shouted something. James couldn’t make out the words over the wind. But he heard the voice. And it wasn’t a voice he recognized. The sound was completely foreign, completely different.
He was sure that it wasn’t one of his friends or family.
Positive.
James acted without thinking.
He already had his handgun out and ready.
The man kept shouting. He lowered his gun, pointing it towards James.
Another figure suddenly appeared.
The shouting, the new person—it was all chaotic. It was all happening so fast.
It would have been easy to freak out. To lose his cool. His brain was running fast and wildly.
But James didn’t let it get to him. He resistant the urge to lose control. Nothing would interfere with his aim more than letting it all get to him.
He took careful aim with his handgun.
He squeezed the trigger twice.
The first man fell.
The second aimed his gun.
More shouting. James didn’t hear the words. It was just noise.
James’s ears were ringing from the gunshots. Everything was even more muffled than before.
The wind was stronger. A powerful gust hit James in the back, almost knocking him over.
James didn’t think. He just acted.
He dashed off, sprinting away from the men.
James heard the gunshots behind him. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t pause.
He ran as fast as he could. The wind was behind him now, seeming to urge him on, faster and faster.
For all James knew, there were more than just two men. If he didn’t get away from them, he was as good as dead. He was outgunned and he knew it. He’d gotten a better look at the rifle. It wasn’t a mere hunting rifle. No, it was something semi-automatic for sure.
James clutched the handgun tightly as he ran. If he let it fall, it’d be lost forever in the high snow.
It was hard running. His footing never felt stable. Any moment he might make a misstep, since he couldn’t see the ground.
It happened. His sneaker hit something hard. Maybe a root. He didn’t know. It didn’t matter.
James fell hard, falling forward. His face hit the snow, which cushioned his fall.
There was shouting behind him. That meant there was more than one man. Probably. It sounded like someone was shouting orders, by the tone of the voice.
James couldn’t lie there. Or he’d be dead.
He found the ground beneath the snow, and pushed against it. Hard, so as to turn himself over.
James was on his back. There wasn’t time to get up. Not yet.
Rapidly, he brushed his hand across his face, getting the snow off his eyes.
The first thing he saw was two figures approaching.
A gust of wind blew in, sending a torrent of icy snow into the air, briefly obscuring the figures.
7
John
“You don’t think they’ve been gone a long time?” said John.
“Quit worrying already,” said Cynthia. “We’re new here. We don’t know how things operated.”
“We’ve been here a week already,” said John. “And don’t tell me I don’t know my own brother.”
“You said yourself you barely spoke to him in the last ten years. Or was it didn’t speak at all? I don’t remember.”
“You’ve really got a way with words,” said John.
“Sorry,” said Cynthia. “I just get a little sarcastic when I get stressed.”
“Oh yeah?” said John. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Very funny,” said Cynthia. “But it has been a long time. What do you think we should do?”
John shrugged his shoulders.
John and Cynthia were standing at the edge of the ca
mp, looking out into the blizzard.
“This is a blizzard, right?”
“I guess so,” said John. “Sure looks like one.”
“I’m freezing,” said Cynthia. “I’m going back in the tent.”
“It’s not much warmer in there.”
“Whatever. It’s better than this.”
John watched Cynthia’s back as she disappeared into the white mist of snow. You couldn’t even see from one end of the camp to the other.
What was surprising to John wasn’t just the snow, but how fast it had come on. Just this morning, when Max and Mandy had left camp, there had only been the clouds. Not a single snowflake had yet landed.
John shivered in the cold. Max and Mandy, out there somewhere, must have really been freezing. He hoped they were OK. He didn’t like the idea of finally finding his brother and then losing him again. Maybe he was just worrying too much. Maybe the circumstances were making him worry.
John decided to go check in with Georgia. Despite her injury, she seemed like the most capable of everyone there. She seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. It was lucky Max had found her, from the sound of the stories he’d heard.
It had taken John a few days to get everyone’s names right. For so long, it had mostly just been himself and Cynthia. Now there were all these new faces. Until a few days ago, John hadn’t realized that Jake and Rose were actually just as new to the group as he and Cynthia were.
Unfortunately, Jake and Rose actually didn’t seem like they’d be much help in any situation at all. They seemed to have been added to the group by default. Almost by accident. It didn’t mean they were bad people. In fact, they were almost overwhelmingly friendly and open, considering the circumstances.
But they weren’t who John would turn to now.
Georgia was in the tent, resting in the corner. Her eyes were half-closed, and she seemed somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.
She nodded at John as he entered.
“Close the flap,” said Cynthia, glaring at the snow that blew inside, along with a gust of frigid air. “You’re letting all the heat out.”
“There’s no heat in here,” said John. He looked at Georgia. “Georgia,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you for a minute.”
“She’s resting,” said Cynthia. “She’s tired. She got shot in the back, you know.”
“It’s fine, Cynthia,” said Georgia, struggling to sit up. “I’m a hell of a lot better than I was. What’s on your mind, John?”
John squatted down near Georgia. Cynthia came over from the other side too. She glanced at John, shooting him a warning look that seemed to say, “don’t bother her too much. She’s recuperating.”
“The storm’s getting really bad,” said John. “I know Max and Mandy weren’t expecting this when they left.”
“You’re worried about them?”
John nodded.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned since knowing Max,” said Georgia. “It’s that he can take care of himself.”
“But something’s not right,” said John. “I mean, they set out hours ago. I know I sound like I’m just overly worried about my brother. And yeah, that’s part of it. But I’m worried about us here at the camp too. What if something happened to Max and Mandy? What if that man James spotted is out there?”
“You’re worried about an attack on the camp?”
“Something like that. I can’t shake the idea that the guy who followed us on that dirt bike… well, that he might have tracked us here.”
The flap to the tent opened, and another burst of cold air entered, along with plenty of snow.
It was Sadie, bundled up in a huge blanket that was wrapped tightly around her.
She looked around the tent.
“James isn’t here?”
“James? I thought he was with you,” said Georgia.
“No,” said Sadie. “I thought he was in here.”
Everyone looked at each other.
“You haven’t seen him?” said Georgia.
“I’ll go look outside,” said John, getting up immediately.
He had his hand on his handgun as he went through the tent flap. The snow was blowing harder than ever.
John went from one end of the camp to the other. He stuck his head into the van where Jake and Rose were cuddled up together. But there was no sign of James anywhere.
John started peering at the snow, trying to make sense of the footprints, but the wind was so strong now that the only prints he could really make out were his own. And maybe some from Sadie who’d just been out there mere minutes ago.
John was about to enter the tent again when the flap opened and Georgia came hobbling out.
She had to really brace herself against the wind.
“No sign of him?” she said.
“No,” said John. “I’m sorry.”
John didn’t know Georgia very well. He tried to read her face, to see how she would react to the news of her missing son. But he couldn’t make much out. Her expression was intense, but unreadable beyond that.
“I’ll get my stuff together,” said John. “Cynthia and I can set out to look for him.”
“No,” said Georgia, shaking her head to John’s surprise.
“You don’t want us to go look for your son?”
“There’s no way to see,” said Georgia. “What good will it do?”
“That’s crazy,” said Cynthia. “We’ll bring a compass.”
“Yeah,” said John. “It won’t be easy. But we’ve got to try.”
“James can take care of himself,” said Georgia. “I just hope he hasn’t done something stupid, like trying to find Max and Mandy himself.”
John could see it in her eyes now. She was worried about her son, despite what she said. And it was killing her that she couldn’t go looking for him on her own. As John understood it, she’d taken a very serious hit to the back. She was much better than she’d been, but certainly in no condition to go trudging through a blizzard’s snow.
“I’m going,” said John. “No discussion. I won’t go far. Not far enough to get lost myself, at least. But if James is anywhere nearby, I’ll find him. If he’s in trouble, I’ll help.”
“You’re not going by yourself,” said Cynthia. “What’s all this ‘I’ about? I thought it was ‘we’?”
“It’s a big risk,” said John. “I’ll go myself.”
“Since when have I not done everything with you?”
“If you’re insisting,” said Georgia. “Then you’re taking more than those handguns.”
“The hunting rifles?”
Georgia shook her head. “Won’t do much good in this snow. Visibility’s so bad as it is.”
“Then the handguns will be better, right?”
“There’s a shotgun from the pot farmers you can take.”
“Good,” said John. “And that’s where we’ll start then. Maybe James went to check out the other camp.”
“Everyone here’s going on watch duty,” said Georgia. “We’ll be ready if anything happens here. I’ll go get you the shotgun.”
John marveled at Georgia’s ability to keep it together, considering that her son was missing.
“She’s a tough cookie, eh?” said Cynthia, as they watched Georgia disappear. It didn’t take long since the visibility had gotten even worse.
“You sure you’re coming?” said John.
“If you’re going, I’m going,” said Cynthia. “You think his disappearance has anything to do with your brother?”
“I doubt it. That doesn’t make sense.”
“But something’s going on.”
“Max probably just decided to wait out the storm. Maybe he couldn’t find his way. He’s probably holed up comfortably under some pine tree or something.”
“If he can’t find his way back, I hope we can.”
“You’ve got the compass, right?”
Cynthia nodded.
“Then we’ll be fine.”
But John had his reservations. He wished Cynthia wasn’t insistent on coming along. But he knew her well enough, and knew how stubborn she was. There was no point in even trying to talking her out of it.
John had to do it. He didn’t know James well. But to John, he wasn’t much more than a kid lost out there. And possibly in great danger.
8
Max
“What are we going to do with him?” said Mandy.
“You can’t kill me,” wailed Josh. “You just can’t.”
“The snow’s getting worse,” said Max.
“What’s that got to do with anything? We’re talking about my life here. Apparently that doesn’t mean anything to you.”
“We’re not saying that,” said Mandy. “But you’ve got to understand that we’re in a difficult position.”
“Well I’m going to bleed to death while you two figure out whether or not to kill me. Sounds like you’ve already made up your decision, whether or not you want to admit it.”
“You’re not bleeding to death,” said Max. “It’s just a bullet wound in the shoulder.”
“‘Just’? Are you crazy? No wonder you didn’t care about what you did to the compound. You’re a ruthless killer, Max.”
He spat towards Max’s boots, which were buried in the snow.
“Maybe he’s right,” said Mandy. “Maybe it’s serious.”
Max gave her a look.
“Just take a look,” said Josh. “At least look at the damn thing.”
“Fine,” said Mandy, starting to bend down to get a closer look.
“Mandy,” said Max. “That’s not a good idea.”
“I’m just going to…”
But she never got to finish her thought.
Josh sprang forward. He moved faster than his position seemed to have allowed for.
He threw his body against Mandy’s.
Mandy fell back. She let out a shout.
Josh’s hands went right for her gun. He threw his whole body weight into it, trying to wrestle it from her hands.
Obviously Josh was thinking Max wouldn’t dare shoot lest he hit Mandy in the process.
Fighting Rough Page 4