by Stone, Kyla
Ghost shouldered in front of Hannah, keeping himself between her and the new threat. His hackles raised, he barked a savage warning.
Ten yards away, tucked between two towering pine trees, an old Hispanic woman stood in the snow, feet planted wide, a Remington Model 31 pump-action shotgun gripped in her hands.
“I ain’t got much patience for trespassers,” she snarled. “The last ones are in a pile behind the barn, matter of fact. Waitin’ to be burned, since the ground’s too frozen for buryin’.”
She had to be nearing eighty years old and wore saggy long-johns and shin-high boots beneath a flowered housedress and an unzipped camouflage coat. Her bronze face was heavily wrinkled, surrounded by wisps of white hair sticking out beneath a furred-earflap hunting cap.
The shotgun aimed at Liam’s chest wavered in her shaky hands.
“These hands are shakin’ from arthritis, not fear,” she growled, as if reading his thoughts. “And this close, you and I both know this beauty won’t miss.”
“We didn’t mean to trespass,” Hannah said. “We’re lost.”
Liam was surprised at the steadiness of her voice. He’d expected her to dissolve into a lump of useless terror, the way she had on their first meeting. But she didn’t.
“That’s what the last pair said. Invited ‘em in for tea, and next thing I knew, they were up to robbin’ me blind. Thought they didn’t need to bother tyin’ me up, seeing as I was so old.” She cackled. “Showed them wrong, didn’t I?”
Neither Hannah nor Liam said anything. What was there to say to that?
“It’s colder than a witch’s tit in a brass bra out here. And I ain’t even wearin’ a bra.” She gestured at them with the shotgun. “Drop your weapons.”
Hannah dropped her knife in the snow.
The old woman turned to Liam. “Now you.”
He didn’t move.
The woman spat into the snow. “Didn’t you hear what happened to the last two? I wasn’t born yesterday. I put this down and you’ll have two rounds in me from that nine-mil pistol beneath your coat. Don’t think I didn’t see you holding it for the last ten minutes.”
The hairs rose on the back of Liam’s neck. She’d been watching him case her house. She must have already been in the woods before they arrived.
Strange that he hadn’t heard her or seen her. She must have snuck up downwind to hide her scent from the dog.
As if she’d read his thoughts, she said, “I was out collectin’ kindling and heard your dog. Good luck for me. Bad luck for you.”
He didn’t believe in bad luck. Only mistakes. He was losing his edge. He was tired, weary, sick of the constant snow and trees and more snow.
It was a poor excuse. He had to do better. Once they got out of here alive.
“I ain’t askin’ again.”
Liam gritted his teeth, reached beneath his coat, and unholstered his Glock, careful not to lift the coat and reveal the knife sheath on his left side.
“Remove the magazine. Toss ‘em far apart.”
He obeyed.
“Now the rest.”
“I don’t have—”
“Lie to me, and I promise you’ll be beggin’ to meet your maker before this is through. Drop your knife, boy.”
With a sigh, he removed the Gerber and tossed it to the ground. It landed blade-first in the snow a couple of yards away.
His hands hung loose at his sides, his muscles tense. If she got close enough, he could disarm her. He just needed to wait for the opportunity to present itself.
She would make a mistake, and he’d be ready to move when she did.
“Turn around. Go. March yourselves to the back of the shed. You’ll see where to go.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Hannah tried again. “We meant you no harm.”
“Oh yeah?” The old woman angled her chin at Hannah. “Then what in tarnation were you plannin’ with that knife, girlie?”
“Protection,” Hannah said. “There are lots of bad people in the world.”
“Lots of liars, too,” the woman said. “All the crazies are comin’ out of the woodwork now.”
Liam couldn’t agree more, but he knew better than to say so. He didn’t take his eyes off the woman or the gun. Her finger was a hair’s breadth from the trigger. It trembled as badly as her hands.
She might shoot them whether she meant to or not.
Ghost kept barking. He didn’t leave Hannah’s side, but it was clear he wanted to. His whole body was quivering with barely restrained fury. The dog didn’t like the gun pointed at them anymore than Liam did.
“Quiet your dog,” the woman said. “Or I will.”
Hannah dropped her left hand to Ghost’s ruff. “Hush, boy.”
Ghost quieted but for the rumble deep in his chest—a warning that he was ready to act the second Hannah gave her consent.
The woman glanced at Ghost. “You got him trained well.”
“He’s not trained,” Hannah said. “This is just who he is.”
The woman grunted—whether in approval or disgust, Liam couldn’t tell. It was hard to read anything beyond the scowl contorting the network of wrinkles spanning her face.
“We’re leaving now,” Liam said. “Put your gun down, and we’ll walk away.”
“I let you go, you’ll just come back tonight and kill me in my sleep.”
“We wouldn’t do that,” Hannah said.
“You want what I have. Everyone does, now.”
Liam felt Hannah’s eyes on him again. “The power going out. It happened to you, too.”
The woman snorted. “Where’ve you been? On vacation to la-la land?”
Hannah stiffened. “Something like that.”
“Uh huh,” the woman said suspiciously. “Don’t play dumb with me. It’ll just make me wanna kill you more slowly. Or maybe I’ll kill your dog first, and let you watch.”
“No!” Hannah cried. “Please. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
The woman shuffled closer—now fifteen feet away. Her gun trained on Liam.
Liam tensed. His hands curled into fists. He willed her just a few steps nearer. He could reach her before she got a shot off.
His reflexes were faster. And the one who moved first always had the advantage. The fraction of a second that it took her to react would be enough.
Hannah was trembling, but her words were clear and steady. “Let him go. Do what you want to us, but leave him alone.”
“Hey, now,” Liam protested, keeping his voice neutral and unthreatening.
“I kill you, I’ll have to kill the dog first. He’ll have my throat before he lets anyone lay a hand on you, girl. That’s plain as the nose on your face.” Her hands shook and she adjusted her grip on the shotgun. “And it’d be a cryin’ shame to kill such a beautiful animal.”
Adrenaline surged through him. His muscles tightened, coiled, prepared to lunge for her and to take her out. It wouldn’t take much to break her frail neck.
He planted his back heel in the snow, readied himself.
Hannah took a small step forward. Ghost moved with her.
Hannah was getting between him and the woman. Weaving around her would shave a fraction of a second off the crucial time he needed. What the hell was she doing?
He wanted to reach out and grab her, but sudden movement would draw the old lady’s attention. Ghost’s growls reverberated in Liam’s chest. He grimaced.
“You like dogs,” Hannah said. “I can see that.”
The shotgun wavered. “Don’t got much use for people, but dogs I’ve always had a soft spot for. Maybe the only soft spot I got left.”
“Dogs are loyal. Treat them right, and they’ll be your best friends forever,” Hannah said.
The old woman lowered the muzzle slightly but kept her finger balanced on the trigger. She glanced at the dog again. “I know Pyrs. They’re the closest to canine royalty as exists, I reckon.”
“They are.”
The woman worked her ja
w like she was considering something. “Not just anyone can command the respect of a dog like that. I may be old, but my eyes are still good. So’s my mind. Doesn’t take a blind man to see that dog loves you, girl. And you right back.”
“I do,” Hannah said quietly. “I really do.”
She took another step. “I don’t know what I did to deserve a dog like Ghost, but I love him for it. He’s brave and loyal.”
“I had one like that.” The shotgun muzzle lowered a few inches more. “A German Shepherd named Snickers. Smartest animal you’ve ever seen. Big, beautiful, with jaws that could crush bone in a second flat. Trained her myself.” The woman’s face creased into a network of wrinkles. Her thin lips twitched into something resembling a grin. “She was mine for fifteen years. Never let me down a single time. Ran off intruders more than once, too.”
Liam’s mouth opened. He just stared at the woman. His brain couldn’t process how quickly everything had just been flipped on its head.
A half second ago, he’d been prepared to snap the old lady’s neck. She’d threatened to kill them. Now she was smiling like she’d just won a pie-making contest.
The crazy old woman dropped the shotgun into the crook of her arm and stuck out her hand. “Name’s CiCi Delacruz. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
35
Hannah
Day Six
Thirty minutes later, Hannah sat in the old woman’s warm kitchen, a hot cup of lemon eucalyptus tea in her hands, delicious steam heating her frozen face and fingers.
CiCi Delacruz bustled around, pulling freshly homemade bread, peanut butter, and homemade jam and applesauce from her cupboards and spreading them across the table.
In a heartbeat, she’d transformed from heartless killer bent on their destruction to nurturing grandmother. It was bizarre, but not at all unwelcome.
She’d allowed them to retrieve their weapons. Hannah’s kitchen knife lay on the kitchen counter. Liam had his pistol and tactical knife sheathed at his belt.
CiCi’s own shotgun was leaning against the cupboard below the wide basin of the farm sink.
Once she’d decided to trust them, she’d gone all in.
Ghost lay on the scarred wooden floor next to Hannah’s chair. His tail thumped appreciatively when CiCi brought him a bowl of dog food.
“Still had an unopened bag,” she said as she poured him a huge bowl. “I’ve treats where that came from, too.”
“What do you know about what happened?” Liam asked around a thick slice of bread spread with homemade strawberry jam. He balanced his plate on the edge of the counter, eating with his left hand as he stood guard beside the back door, his Glock held firmly in his right.
“I wouldn’t have known anythin’ had happened at all if I hadn’t been listenin’ to my late husband Ricardo’s ham radio. People are plain goin’ nuts. Folks reportin’ empty grocery stores from New York to Los Angeles. Lootin’ and break-in’s and bodies piling up everywhere.”
Liam leaned forward, his gaze sharpening. “It hit the entire continental US, then. What about Hawaii? Other countries?”
CiCi peered at him beneath a crown of wispy white curls. “My antennae isn’t strong enough to reach that far. But I’ve talked with folks who can. Hawaii has power. Parts of Alaska. But no one’s heard a thing from anyone in the rest of the States who does. One guy in Texas says he chatted with friends in the UK. They’re fine. Well, they’ve got power. But their financial system is in crisis. What happens in the US affects everyone. You believe it’s an EMP like some of ‘em are sayin’? Or some ginormous solar flare?”
“A nuclear EMP, not a solar flare,” Liam said. “A solar flare wouldn’t just affect the US, but much of the planet. An EMP from a high-altitude nuke would be more localized. Probably more than one nuclear blast if it’s affecting most of the United States. Maybe a coordinated attack from a rogue nation. What’s the government reporting?”
She wrinkled her nose. “They just keep replayin’ the same emergency broadcasts: ‘Stay calm, keep warm and remain indoors; this is a temporary phenomenon, power and services’ll be restored shortly. Aid is forthcomin’.’ Forthcomin’, my saggy ass.”
“They’re trying to prevent a panic,” Hannah said. “Offering reassurance.”
“Not sure what good reassurances do the poor families freezin’ to death in their own homes,” CiCi said grimly.
Hannah chewed her sandwich in somber silence. What was happening in Fall Creek? Were Noah and Milo okay? Their old house had had a fireplace, if they still lived there. Did they have enough wood to keep it burning twenty-four-seven? Did Milo still have enough to eat?
When she’d lived there, she always made sure they had four weeks’ worth of food and supplies stored in the garage. It had been the source of many fights between her and Noah when money was tight. And money was always tight.
Where she’d grown up in the UP, you couldn’t rely on stores always being fully stocked. Snowstorms could knock power out for days. You had to be ready, just in case.
Was Noah ready for this? Was he protecting their son? Apprehension tangled in her gut. She longed to be home so badly, it hurt like a physical ache in her chest.
“Do you think small towns will last longer?” she asked.
“Longer than cities, anyway. Maybe they’ll have a chance if they band together, or if someone remembers the old ways of doin’ things.”
As late afternoon drifted into twilight, CiCi lit two beeswax candles on the kitchen counter and sat down opposite Liam and Hannah. The scent of lemon and honey filled the small, homey kitchen.
“Out here, I got to rely on a generator anyway. Save it for the important stuff, though—hot showers, an electric heater, and a workin’ toilet. Candles and oil lamps work just fine for light. Got a well with a hand pump, septic system, and the woodburning stove. Don’t go into town more than once a month, so I make sure I got enough to last me a while.”
“Your generator is still working?” Hannah asked, thinking how everything had gone silent in the basement, even the generator’s low rumble.
“It’s old as sin and not connected to anythin’ computerized and electronic, so yep. Heard on the radio that some folks’ generators went out, too. They make everything with computerized bits these days. It’ll be a hard, hard winter. I know that.”
Liam peered outside into the gathering darkness. “And the trespassers who came to your house?”
“They probably came up from the closest town once the stores were emptied out—Branch to the southwest, or the bigger town of Baldwin further southeast. There’ll be more. My Ricardo and I lived out here on our own for forty years. We weren’t born yesterday.”
She glanced at her shotgun leaning against the cabinet. “I know just how to handle ‘em.”
CiCi kept talking, but Hannah barely heard her. Exhaustion tugged at her eyelids. Her muscles ached from days of hard travel. Her lower back hurt.
With her stomach full and her body thawed, she felt like she could sleep for a week.
A pressure on her bladder tugged her back into wakefulness. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “May I use the bathroom?”
“Let me show you,” CiCi said.
Hannah followed CiCi up the narrow creaking stairs to the second floor. Ghost leapt to his feet, lumbered to the base of the stairs, and whined anxiously.
“Stay with Liam,” Hannah said. “Help him guard the house, okay?”
Ghost cocked his head and gave her a dejected look, but he stayed downstairs.
Upstairs, the walls were papered with a faded print of yellow roses and winding green vines. Photos in dusty frames hung on the wall, of sons and daughters, grandsons and granddaughters.
In the bathroom, she relieved herself, thankful beyond words for an actual toilet. She swore never to take the bathroom for granted again.
As she washed her hands with a yellow bottle of hand sanitizer, her gaze fell on the small shelf below the mirror. It was crowded with prescription p
ill bottles. They had long, complicated names she didn’t recognize.
When she opened the door, CiCi was waiting for her on the other side. “Bad heart.”
“What?”
“It’s what I’ve got.” The woman angled her chin toward the bathroom shelf behind Hannah. “You seem like the curious sort. Reckon you saw the pills.”
Hannah hesitated. She hadn’t thought about the millions of people dependent on medications. If the delivery trucks stopped, they wouldn’t be delivering life-saving medicine to pharmacies or doctors’ offices either. Or hospitals.
How many hundreds of thousands of people were going to sicken and die over the next weeks and months as their meds ran out?
Too many.
“What are you going to do when you can’t get refills?” Hannah asked.
CiCi shrugged in resignation. “What everyone else is gonna do. Go ‘bout my business, and stay upright for as long as I can. What else is there?”
“I don’t know.”
“No one knows when their time is gonna come. I’ve had myself a full life. I’ll go when I go, and I’ll go in peace.”
CiCi’s words made sense in a way that not much else had for a long time. “Aren’t you afraid out here all alone?”
CiCi frowned. Wrinkles fanned out from the corners of her dark brown eyes. “Alone is a state of mind, nothin’ else. You remember that. So is fear.”
“There are bad people out there. Bad people who would hurt you in a heartbeat.”
She licked her lips, wanting to tell the woman about him, to warn her. The words clogged in her throat. Saying them out loud—it was impossible.
CiCi’s eyes narrowed. “Child, we’re all running from somethin’. I learned long ago not to live in fear of the next boogey-man. Let them come, I say. I have plenty of ammo.”
Hannah nodded, relieved. The tightness in her chest eased. “Thank you again for your hospitality. You didn’t have to show us such kindness.”
“Kindness!” CiCi grunted. “I was dead-set on shootin’ you.”
“Well, thank you for not shooting us.”
CiCi grinned. She shuffled for the stairs, then stopped abruptly. She turned back and stared hard at Hannah, her wrinkled jaw working, her sharp gaze never leaving Hannah’s face.