by Byron Tucker
His mind made up, he set about making a fire in the hulking, custom-made wood burner located at the far end of the shop, where the work tables and storage shelves were. Once he got the kindling going nicely, he tossed in a few pieces of split oak, carry-over from the previous winter. In almost no time at all, the squat iron box began putting out some solid heat, making it possible for him to unzip his coat. He threw in a couple rounds for longevity and then made his way to his walk-in gun safe.
The safe was tucked behind wall shelves that could only be opened if you knew exactly where to pull. Looking behind him to make sure there was no one in the shop with him, he pulled the shelves aside to gain access to the combination lock. He quickly twirled the correct combination and pulled the man-sized door open, tapping the handy LED light he'd stuck in there.
He took a moment to survey his gun collection, which was pretty modest compared to many preppers. Guns were only good to the extent that you could use them, and here he was, two and a half months post-TSHTF, just now opening his gun safe. There was the Glock he kept in a secret spot under the couch, but the rest of his collection in its entirety was in front of him in the narrow, closet-sized space. In the back were most of his long guns, the two 30-30s, the Mossberg and the 12-gauge, plus a little .22 rifle that would be good for Jimmy to cut his teeth on. He decided to go ahead and pull that out, along with a box of .22 ammo to go with it. He then toyed with his most recent acquisition, a tricked-out AR-15 with a laser targeting scope and extended 30-round magazine. He'd only taken it to the range twice, but it was a damned fine gun. He put it back on the rack and picked up the other large gun underneath it, a Winchester tactical shotgun, which held a half dozen shells. It had a scope as well, but not a laser one, making it ideal for daytime shooting.
Suddenly wishing that he had a larger collection, Ryan glanced at his meager selection of handguns, and picked up his favorite, a Smith & Wesson .40 M&P. It was a nice, comfortable gun to shoot, with light recoil, and the nice bonus of holding fifteen rounds. He lifted up the back of his coat and slipped it into the back of his pants, as he wanted to take it with him on the snowmobile. If there was an ideal starter handgun for Jimmy to use, he decided it would be the Glock 17. It was a bit heavy for a 9-mm, but Jimmy had plenty big enough hands and the body weight to easily handle it. He went ahead and pocketed it, as well as a box of 9-mm ammo, figuring he could give him a gun-cleaning lesson with the rifle and pistol and take it from there.
Not wanting to mess around in the gun safe any longer than necessary, he bumped the light off with his fist and closed the steel door of the safe, pushing the heavy shelves back into place. Ryan breathed out a sigh of relief when they clicked shut. Just like his precious metals vault, he really didn't want anyone knowing about this. The timing was impeccable, as he spotted Jimmy edging around in front of the motorhome.
Putting on a relaxed smile, he strode up to him, and noticed that he had on the heavy riding jacket. For a brief moment, he wished he'd kept that jacket for himself. “I was just getting the wood burner fired up. Wanna come and look?”
“Awesome. Are you gonna to keep this place heated so we can use the motorhome?”
“Yes. I figured there was no sense in holding off any longer, now that the snow's set in.”
Jimmy smiled. “When were you thinking about breaking out the snowmobile?”
Great minds think alike. “Yes, that's exactly what I thought when I saw how much it's snowed overnight. What do you say to the idea of checking it out and taking it for a spin?”
Jimmy raised his thumb in the air. “That'd be awesome. Will we do any hunting?”
Ryan shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps. We'll just go for a test ride first, to see what it's like out there.”
“Cool, maybe we can go to town or something, see what's going on.”
Ryan shook his head emphatically. “I might be riding into town soon, but you'll not. We can't afford to take the risk.”
Jimmy sported a disgruntled look. “Damn, you know I'd be able to defend myself if necessary. I'm six-four, like you, and I know how to fight. And you know I can shoot a gun, too.”
He looked directly into the eyes of his nephew as he said, “I understand that you want to get out and hunt and bring stuff home for the family. It's only natural that you'd think this way. However, this is reality, not some video game. You don't get second chances. Also, you have to realize that I am not your parent. I cannot put you in a situation that could put you in danger.”
Jimmy cast his face downward, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah, I understand. I'm just a kid who's not allowed to do anything.”
Deciding that it'd be a good thing to cheer him up with, Ryan pulled out the Glock he had in his coat pocket and laid it down on the nearby work table. “Have a look,” he said. Before Jimmy could reach out to the gun, he held out his hand. “What's the first rule you should always know about guns?”
“Um, that they're always loaded.”
“Correct. That means never pulling the trigger unless you're shooting. Go ahead, pick it up. Get a feel for it. Just put your finger behind the trigger, but grip it.”
He watched as Jimmy held the gun up with both hands, facing the rear of the motorhome. He pretended to shoot with it a couple of times and then handed it back, his eyes glimmering with excitement. “Pretty cool, I like how it feels. You gonna let me shoot it sometime?”
Ryan smiled. “At some point, yes. At a time of my choosing, okay? I don't need to have you bugging me about doing something I'm not comfortable with.”
“I gotcha.” Jimmy pointed to the exit door. “Wanna show me the snowmobile now? Mom's just getting up, so it'll be a while before breakfast is ready.”
Relieved to get Jimmy's attention away from the gun, he smiled again and said, “I suppose we could do that.”
* * *
Sam woke up in a depressed mood, unable to determine why. He'd been feeling so good about the motorhome project, finally having something tangible to do. But what was there to do now, stare out the window and watch the endless snowfall? Play the board game that even Eliza was tired of? Hunt with his brother? That would be useful, considering that I can't shoot straight to save my life.
Shelly came up to him, eager for a scratch behind the ears, which made him feel a bit better.
After going to the bathroom, he walked out to the kitchen, where Irene was busy making breakfast. “Where's Jimmy?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Out in the shop with Ryan as far as I know. Why don't you go join them? You seem to be in a happier mood when you're doing stuff with them.”
“True. I'll grab my coat and see what they're up to.”
Irene reached over and gave him a quick kiss. “Tell them that breakfast will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”
He got the feeling that Irene was glad to get him out of the house. And it was a very small house, which seemed to get smaller as the days went by. Sam zipped up his overcoat and stepped outside, amazed at the bitter chill. A glance at the thermometer indicated just how cold it was – the mercury stood at fourteen degrees. If it's this bad now, imagine what it'll be like come January. He put his hood up to protect his head against the cold, and as he walked around the house toward the shop, he heard a deep-throated roar coming from behind the shop. As he looked up to see what it was, he saw Ryan carving a trail with a black and green snowmobile. He zoomed past him at a fast clip, making a long, slow arc in the field sloping away from the house. Then he came back around to where Sam stood, easing to a stop directly in front of him.
“Wanna go for a ride?” Ryan asked, grinning.
Sam waved his hand back and forth as he smiled at him. “No thanks. Feel free to take Jimmy for a spin, though. Breakfast will be ready in fifteen. I'm going back inside, it's frigid out here.”
“Is that a snowmobile Ryan's running out there?” Irene quizzed him when he got back inside the house.
“Yeah, I told him to take Jimmy for a ride.”
&nbs
p; Irene turned to face him. “What he needs to be doing is riding to town to see about getting Eliza's medicine. She's okay with the albuterol, but she's on her last discus of Advair. We've got to find a way to get more.”
No kidding. “Yes, I'll talk to Ryan about that. Maybe that's why he's testing the thing out, so he can ride into town. I'll volunteer to go with him if he wants.”
“Yes, I think you should. You know how difficult it is for you to be in this house all day.”
He laughed. “At least the cooking is good.”
“Aww.” She leaned over and kissed him, a bit more lingering than the one earlier. But then she snapped back into focus, reaching into the oven to pull out some freshly baked bacon. “Go wake Eliza, if she's not up yet. I'll let you guys eat now and we can feed the boys when they get in.”
A half hour later, Sam struggled to finish the last bite of omelet, feeling stuffed like he always did at the end of Irene's over-abundant meals. He glanced over at Ryan, still munching away. Finally getting up the courage to ask him, he said, “Have you given any thought to riding into town?”
Ryan nodded vigorously, finishing his current mouthful of food. “Yes, I was just about to get to that. Since it's turned sharply colder and with this heavy snow we've got now, I've decided that now's a good time as any to do a quick recon of the area.”
Irene turned from the sink and asked, “You will see about getting that Advair, right?”
Sam looked at his brother nervously, hoping he'd answer in the affirmative.
Ryan said, “I'll see what I can do, that's all I can promise.”
“And I'll be willing to go with you,” Sam said.
Ryan shook his head. “That's a no-can-do. I need to do this on my own, in case I need to make a quick getaway.” He glanced over at Jimmy. “See, I'm not letting your dad go with me, either.”
Jimmy waved a hand dismissively at him. “Yeah, you're the only one who gets to have the fun. Go and have your adventure while we sit in this 'extra cozy' house all day.”
Sam realized Jimmy was voicing the exact same feelings he was experiencing, being trapped in this tiny house as they stared down the barrel of a merciless winter. But since it was important for Ryan to do his own thing, so Eliza could get her life-saving medicine, he said, “It's not about having fun out there, Jimmy. It's about putting himself out there in this awful weather to take care of a critical need for your sister.”
Jimmy didn't answer as he dug back into his breakfast. Ryan slapped his hand on the table as he stood up. “Guess I'll get going.”
Irene rushed over to where he stood. “Don't you want to bring some food with you?”
“No, thanks. I won't be gone that long.”
“Are you sure? Let me wrap some rolls for you, as well as a thermos of cocoa. Just give me five. You'll thank me later.”
Sam met his brother's gaze, shrugging his shoulders. That's Irene for you, always making sure we're fed like happy pigs.
A few minutes later, Sam stood next to his wife, peering through the kitchen window at Ryan putting his helmet on and starting up the snowmobile. Seconds later, he zoomed out of sight while heavy snow continued to fall.
Irene turned to look at her husband, looking concerned. “I'm worried about him. I'm know he's a very capable man, but I just don't have a good feeling about this.”
“I know what you mean. Let's hope he finds what we need and comes right back.”
Sam glanced over at his daughter. She was laughing at a joke her brother had just told her. Yes, for her sake, let's hope he's successful.
Chapter 17
After riding a few miles, Ryan developed a newfound appreciation for his Polaris snowmobile, which he had bought at the end of the last winter. It featured a clean-burning, extra-quiet gas engine, handlebar warmers, a digital console with a temperature display and a carved-out seat, enabling him to crouch down and ride in the cocoon of the windshield. It was just your good, all-around trail-riding machine.
Once he had left the confines of his property and taken the cut-off down to the main snowmobile trail, he stopped to have a look. He couldn't see a whole lot, due to the heavy snow limiting visibility, and saw no sign of any human activity. More importantly, he couldn't hear engine sounds either, indicating other snow machines that might be in the area. It was as if he was a singular person in a world of white. But he knew there were people out there, hiding out in their homes, trying to make their food reserves last as long as they could. A lot of people had left, he knew, probably at least a third of the population. There was no way of knowing how many had starved since then, but it was a moot point, as winter was just beginning. If they didn't have enough food to last through the winter, or longer, then...
In a bid to keep his mind off such morbid thoughts, he decided to hang a left and ride down to Calumet, located just a few miles away. He didn't expect to see anything there that would be of use, but it was worth a check either way. He rode at a slow pace and arrived a few minutes later. The snow was coming down harder than ever. At first glance, and the second and third as well, Calumet looked like a ghost town. Riding through the middle of its main street, Ryan saw that everything appeared to be boarded up tight, with no sign of human activity whatsoever. He rode over to the police and fire station. Nothing. It looked as if entire town had evacuated. In reality, however, Ryan suspected there were probably multiple pairs of eyes watching from behind curtained windows, wondering what his next move would be.
He rode up one street over from main, and stopped in front of the local pharmacy. Like the other businesses in town, it was boarded up, and the front door had a formidable-looking steel plate on it. There would be no smash-and-grab, not today. Besides, if he did such a thing, he would be treated like a looter and probably shot, and rightfully so. He needed to track down that pharmacist and get the meds the proper way. But since the phones didn't work and he didn't know where he lived or even if he was still around, that was easier said than done.
He thought about riding to Hancock, twelve miles away. But there was no telling what would await him over there. More of the same, abandoned houses and businesses? Or some kind of gang-controlled fiefdom? Some of the reports he heard on the radio had sounded pretty grim. He shook his head, thinking it'd be foolish to ride down there. It was risky enough exposing himself in this little village. Regretting having to ride back empty-handed, Ryan restarted his sled and slowly cruised down a side street that led to the snowmobile trail. With the snow coming down at a furious pace, he didn't see the woman until he was almost upon her. Thrilled just to talk to someone, he pulled up next to her and said, “Anything I can help you with?”
The woman, walking in a hunched-over position, straightened up and removed her right arm from her left shoulder, the upper part of her jacket stained red with blood. “Do you know of a place where I can get this fixed up? I've been shot.”
Ryan hopped off the sled and rushed over to the injured woman, looking at the bloody stain with a shocked expression. “When did this happen? Where were you?”
She pointed a finger behind her, her whole body trembling. “Last night, in Hancock. The raiders started going door-to-door again, and when we refused to allow entry, they started shooting their way in. They got my husband, but I was able to take out four or five of them and get away.”
Ryan took a moment to look around, making sure there weren't any other people in sight. “How did you get here, then? Is there a vehicle nearby?”
She shook her head. “No, I walked.”
“That's twelve miles, in the snow!”
She smiled at him. “Yes, you don't have to remind me. That's why I really need to get to someplace warm, and get something to fix my shoulder up with.”
Certain the hospital in the neighboring village of Laurium would be padlocked, he decided on the pharmacy. It was too risky to bring her back to the house. Pointing to his left, he said, “There's a pharmacy about three blocks that we can try and break into. There should be plen
ty of stuff in there to get you fixed up.”
She pointed to the snowmobile. “Well, aren't you gonna take me there?”
Once they pulled up alongside the front door of the unobtrusive pharmacy, Ryan pointed to the door. “I can try kicking the door in, but perhaps I should try find another way in, like in the back.”
To his utter surprise, the woman stood up and walked over to the door while pulling out a huge handgun, a silver .45. She aimed directly at the door lock and said, “Cover your ears. This gun is loud.”
BOOM! When he looked up again, he saw the door drifting ajar, its lock smashed into oblivion. “What in the hell? Where did you learn to shoot a gun like that?”
She flipped the gun casually in her right hand, smiling. “Practice. Come on, let's see what we can find in here.”
Glad that he had thought to bring a flashlight, they went exploring inside the gloomy confines of the pharmacy. Despite the chill, the woman peeled off her coat and two layers of garments underneath, leaving just a torn undershirt that did a poor job of covering her well-formed D-cup breasts. While the wound looked nasty, it wasn't actively bleeding and, when he examined her back, there was an exit wound as well. A clean shot, which would make things far easier. Quickly locating some alcohol and bandages, he cleaned the wounds as best as he could before wrapping her shoulder with the bandage. In the process of tending to her, he couldn't help but notice her sexually attractive figure, coupled with an expressive face framed by short blond hair. He estimated her age to be about thirty-eight or forty, making her a decade or so younger than him.
Without thinking, he asked, “What's your name? I'm Ryan, by the way. I live just up the road from here.”
The woman smiled in a friendly manner. “I'm Nora. I really appreciate you helping me out like this.”