John nodded again. He was silent, but the anger was still on his face.
Max nodded to Mandy, and they set off, leaving John standing there.
They’d gotten ready a half hour ago, but they carried minimal gear with them. They had a rifle and handgun each and a small supply of extra food and water that they were able to fit into their parka pockets. Backpacks would only weight them down, making traversing the snow more difficult.
If things ever calmed down, Max had plans for making rudimentary snowshoes. For now, they were stuck slogging through the snow in their boots.
The temperature had risen. Not enough to melt the snow, but enough to feel significantly warmer than last night’s frigid temperatures. If he’d had to guess, Max would have said it was in the high twenties. Maybe thirty.
As they walked, Mandy kept glancing at Max.
“What is it?” said Max, finally.
“Aren’t you going to say anything about what happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“With your brother. With John.”
Max shrugged. “What’s there to say?”
“Aren’t you wondering why he was so upset?”
“That’s his business,” said Max.
Mandy huffed. “No wonder you two didn’t talk much after childhood.”
Max said nothing but he picked up the pace. His leg was, strangely, feeling better. Maybe it was the weather. His head, however, hadn’t stopped hurting since he’d fallen, and now the pain had developed into a throbbing, intense headache. He’d take that over something worse.
“Fine,” said Mandy, unprompted. “I’ll tell you.”
“It’s fine,” said Max. “I don’t need to know.”
“No, no, I can tell you want to know. It’s nothing you did, really. It’s just that he was trying so hard to find you. He thought you’d have it all figured out. You’re his brother, and he looks up to you. Basically it’s his own expectations meeting reality. And it’s not your fault, Max.”
“I didn’t think it was.”
“It’s that no one can conquer all this… madness… this chaos. The EMP changed everything. I guess he was trying to find a way back to his old life in a sense. By finding you.”
“How much of that did he tell you, and how much of that is your own analysis?”
“It’s a mix of both.”
That wasn’t really what Max had asked, but he let it drop. John would learn in time to confront whatever he was going through. He’d have to face reality, like the rest of them. And the reality was that Max wasn’t anyone’s savior. He was just a guy who knew how to keep going.
Max’s eyes hadn’t stopped moving since they’d left camp. He kept his gaze shifting between the ground and the surroundings. There were footprints everywhere that made paths back to camp. What Max was looking for was a set of footprints that didn’t belong.
“It’s harder than I thought to distinguish between these,” said Max. “It’s too bad we couldn’t have followed their original prints, from when they left camp. But too much snow’s fallen.”
“Why didn’t we at least set out in the direction they did?” said Mandy.
“Not much point,” said Max. “They could have gone any direction a minute or ten minutes later after leaving. We’re as likely to find signs of them out here as in any direction.”
“Doesn’t sound like you’re holding out much hope we’ll find them.”
“Unfortunately not,” said Max.
“I don’t want to go blaming them,” said Mandy. “But it’s kind of their fault. I mean, I feel terrible just having said that, knowing they might be dead.”
“Probably dead,” said Max, correcting her.
“That makes me feel even worse.”
Max didn’t say anything. He was trying to make sense of the footprints.
“Why are you carrying that rifle, anyway?” said Mandy, after a few minutes.
“You’re asking me why I’m carrying a gun? You are too.”
“Yeah, but you know how to use the semi-automatics from the dead guys. I thought they were better guns.”
“Not better,” said Max. “Just different. And while I may know how to use it, I feel more comfortable with one of Georgia’s rifles. Sometimes the best tool is the one you know how to use the best, rather than how it looks on paper. Unfortunately, I spent too much time at the target range with my Glock, and not enough with anything else.”
“Seems like you’re doing fine with it.”
Up ahead, Max saw something. He stopped in his tracks, and raised his binoculars to his eyes.
“What is it?” said Mandy.
“Looks like a dead animal,” said Max. “But it’s hard to tell. It’s pretty far off. Come on.”
They continued forward, through the snow, in silence. Max’s finger rested outside the trigger guard of his rifle. But he was ready.
“Can you see it now?” said Mandy. She sounded nervous.
“Yeah,” said Max, using the binoculars again. “I think it’s a dog.”
“A dead dog?” said Mandy. She sounded upset.
Soon enough, they were close enough to see the dog with the naked eye.
“Someone shot it,” said Mandy, bending down to examine it. “I wonder what it was doing out here.”
Max touched the dog. “It’s still warm,” he said.
“It’s horrible,” said Mandy. “Why would someone shoot a dog?”
Max didn’t answer.
Max kept his eyes on the surroundings. He doubted whoever had shot the dog was still here, but he didn’t want to take his chances. He used his binoculars again, but he saw nothing.
“Maybe it was the same men who attacked us,” said Mandy.
“Maybe,” said Max.
‘You think it was someone else?”
Max didn’t say anything. He was looking at the ground now, at a pair of very clean footprints that began not far from the dog.
“Where are you going?”
Max bent down, examining the prints.
“Look at these.”
“Look like boot prints. It must have been those men.”
“The dog wasn’t shot long ago,” said Max. “It means there’s someone else out here. Could be more than one.”
“There’s only one set of footprints.”
“No,” said Max, pointing. “There’s two.”
“But what’s that over there?”
Mandy walked slightly ahead of Max, pointing to a strange pattern in the snow.
“Looks like the mark a sled would make,” said Mandy. “But that doesn’t make sense.”
“It wasn’t a sled,” said Max, following the strange tracks. “Take a look at this.”
“What is it?”
It was a mound in the snow about the size and shape of a body.
“Give me a hand,” said Max, starting to dig at the snow with his bare hands.
“I have a feeling we’re not going to like what we find.”
Mandy suddenly let out a gasp, standing up and backing away from the mound.
Max looked. It was Rose. Mandy had been digging by her head, and had revealed her face. Her eyes were open wide, and the color was gone from her.
Max continued digging. Whoever’d buried Rose had done so hastily. The snow wasn’t packed in tightly.
“Keep an eye on our surroundings,” said Max. His hands were cold and numb, but he kept digging.
It didn’t take him long to reveal the whole body.
“Someone cut off her ear!” said Mandy. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Max examined the corpse, thinking he’d find a bullet wound. But there was nothing. Not until he pushed Rose over on her stomach did he find the knife wounds.
“This is my fault,” said Max. “We should have left earlier.”
26
Cynthia
John and Cynthia had left the camp twenty minutes ago. Cynthia was exhausted from the night before, and annoyed that no one else w
as complaining about it much.
John had been acting strangely since they’d left. Cynthia could almost felt his anger. And she knew it wasn’t about the battle last night. And it wasn’t about fearing for their lives. It was something that wasn’t quite about survival.
“I don’t see how we can just go, go, go,” said Cynthia. “Don’t you realize that people need to rest?”
“We’re looking for two missing members of our group,” snapped John. “Don’t you think that’s a little more important than you getting your beauty sleep?”
“Beauty sleep? When’s the last time we slept at all? Who said anything about looking good?”
“Sorry,” said John. “I know you’re tired. So am I.”
“And I know we need to look for Jake and Rose,” said Cynthia. “It’s just you’re not making this easy. What’s going on with you, anyway?”
“It’s nothing,” said John.
“It’s your brother, isn’t it?”
John didn’t answer.
“Come on, John. Why don’t you talk to me about it?”
John muttered something unintelligible.
“Yeah, I know. Men don’t like to talk about their feelings.” Cynthia add her classic sarcastic bite to her words. That usually got John to talk, even when he was being too quiet for her liking.
“It’s not that,” said John. “It’s just there’s no point in talking about it.”
“What? Talking doesn’t fix anything? Sounds like a typical male answer.”
“No,” said John. “Like I said, it’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
“Max is right. There are more important things at stake right now than how I feel about… certain things.”
“You mean your brother?”
John didn’t answer.
“I know you’re disappointed,” said Cynthia.
“What? How?”
“Women’s intuition.”
“Mandy told you?”
“Maybe,” said Cynthia, not wanting to fully reveal her sources. “Look, what you’re feeling is normal.”
“How so? What do you know about it?”
“There’s no reason to get upset with me,” snapped Cynthia.
“I’m not,” said John.
But it was clear that he was.
“You were hoping Max would be something like our savior. I mean, you and I talked about it enough. You can’t pretend that isn’t the case.”
“OK,” snapped John. “So what if it was?”
Cynthia glanced at John. She’d rarely seen him like this, so upset and angry. She’d touched a nerve. Together, they’d been through countless trials, many near-death situations. There’d been many times where they’d thought they’d never make it out alive. And yet, she’d never seen this anger in him before. Not like this. It was different. More personal.
Cynthia had the instinct to back off of the topic, to let sleeping dogs lie. But, for some reason, she continued. “I just don’t get what you’re upset about. Max is great. I mean, without him, we’d definitely be dead.”
“Oh, is that so?” said John. “Well you don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t have any idea.”
He spoke to her in angry, aggressive tones, and his eyes glared at her.
Cynthia shivered, recoiling from the expression his face.
“What’s gotten into you?” she said.
“Nothing. Nothing’s gotten into me. I’m fine.”
But he was visibly angry. His body was quivering, almost shaking with anger.
“If this is all about Max, then I think the best thing to do is…”
“Just shut up, would you?” snapped John.
It had come on all of a sudden, this mood, and it surprised Cynthia. She’d thought she’d known John. She’d thought what they’d been through together had let her know him as well as anyone could. But there were always dark parts of a person, things that rarely revealed themselves. And when they did, they were shocking.
“I’ve never seen you like this,” said Cynthia. “Why don’t you take a couple deep breaths. You need to calm down.”
“I don’t need to do anything!” shouted John, screaming right in her face.
“What the hell?” said Cynthia. “Don’t scream at me, damnit.”
“Why don’t you just head back to camp?” said John, his eyes burning with anger. “I can do this on my own. I don’t need you, or anyone else. I don’t need Max.”
“Look, I’m sorry, I guess I touched some nerve about your childhood… I thought…”
“You’ve said all you need to. I’m doing this alone.”
John picked up his pace, nearly breaking into a run.
Cynthia tried to keep up, but his legs were longer than hers. And she was already having trouble walking through the snow.
“John, wait up!”
John didn’t look back. He was already many paces ahead of her.
“We’re supposed to go together! There are dangerous people out here!”
“There’s no one out here,” shouted John, without turning around.
It was the last thing he said to her.
She couldn’t keep up. Her legs were already burning, trying to run through the snow. The rifle felt heavy in her hands, impossibly heavy.
It wasn’t just the physical sensation that slowed her down. It was the knowledge that since she’d known John, he’d never once abandoned her. It wasn’t like him to leave her on her own out in the woods, out in the dangerous wilds, where anyone could come along at any moment.
She was all alone. John had disappeared into the trees.
“Shit,” muttered Cynthia, sitting down in the snow.
It had all happened so fast. She felt hurt and betrayed. John had never run off like that before, leaving her there on her own. Not if he could help it. No, before he’d done everything in his power to be there for her, to protect her as best he could, even when they were compete strangers and he’d had no reason to.
It was that childhood stuff. Old wounds and all that. Maybe he had his reason to be upset.
But he should be upset with Max, not Cynthia. She didn’t have anything to do with it. And even on the Max front, it didn’t really make sense. From what Cynthia could tell, Max was a good guy. He was always helping the rest of them. He was always going out of his way to push himself trying to protect the others. And for what? For nothing. He didn’t ask for anything in return, except that the others be vigilant and cautious. Not to mention smart about what they were doing.
Max certainly wouldn’t have approved of John going off on his own, leaving Cynthia there.
An eerie feeling crept over Cynthia. She looked around at the snow and the snow-covered trees, shivering in the cold, and realized quite viscerally that she was completely alone.
Or so she hoped.
Max had been convinced there were others out there. John didn’t think so, but maybe whatever problem he had with his brother was blinding him to the truth.
Cynthia felt not just alone, but exposed. Despite all her practice with firearms, she didn’t feel confident. Sure, she’d fought before. She’d survived. But that was then. Each new situation brought new dangers.
What was she supposed to do? Should she head back to camp, finding protection among the others there?
But what about John? He was out on his own, apparently confident that there was no danger now, that everything was fine.
It just didn’t make sense. If there was anything John and Cynthia had learned together, it was that nothing was ever fine, and that new dangers lurked around every corner, every tree. Each passing minute and hour had always, so far, meant new threats on their life.
John might need her. Cynthia wasn’t mad at him. Sure, he’d blown up at her. But that could be forgiven. She had to remember all the other times, the times he’d saved her from certain death, the times he’d been kind to her when he hadn’t needed to. These were stressful situations of the worst kind. People
could be excused for having a blow up now and again.
But what couldn’t be forgiven was leaving her. Striking out on his own. Potentially it meant as much danger as it did for her as it did for him.
Cynthia made her up her mind. She wasn’t going to leave John out there on his own. He couldn’t keep up that pace for long, running through the snow like that. He’d have to slow down.
All she had to do was follow his tracks.
Cynthia stood up, took a deep breath, and headed in the direction John had disappeared in.
27
Sadie
“Do you think this is ever going to end, Mom?” said Sadie.
“What’s going to end?”
“All this. The violence. Everything that’s happened…” Sadie didn’t quite know how to express what she was trying to say. It felt like they had been going and going, with hardly any breaks, any time to think. This was one of the few moments of peace they’d had over the last weeks.
And it wasn’t even really peace. After all, Jake and Rose were missing. Max and the others were out looking for them. Max was convinced there were other bad guys out there. And if Sadie had learned anything since the EMP, it was that Max was often right. Not always. But a lot of the time.
Her mother was silent for a long time, continuing to scan the surroundings, her rifle by her side.
“I don’t know how to explain it,” continued Sadie. “I feel like I should have learned this in English class or something. But I don’t…”
“Sadie,” said her mother, speaking slowly and with sadness in her voice. “This is too much for someone your age to have to go through. It’s not surprising that you don’t have the words to say what you’re trying to say.”
Sadie thought for a moment, then said, “I don’t think anyone should have to go through this. No matter how old.”
Her mother chuckled. “Maybe you’re right, Sadie. But I guess this is what we get.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t know if we deserve it. I wouldn’t go that far. But our whole society… it was foolish in a lot of ways.”
“Like everyone not knowing how to shoot, use a gun, hunt deer like you do?”
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