Cate and Tara came outside with fresh mugs of coffee for the boys. Jody took his with both hands and smiled at Cate.
“What’s on tap today, Cate?” Jody asked.
“This here is a Kona,” she said. “I haven’t made this one before, so let me know your thoughts.”
Jody sniffed the steam before pressing his lips to the rim of his mug. He took a sip of the scalding-hot beverage and smiled with pure delight. “Oh my. Where did you get this stuff? It’s simply amazing. Thank you!”
Cate smiled and disappeared inside with Tara to begin their daily routine. In the distance, Bill fed the llamas and chickens. The snow appeared to have melted a few inches, and Matt wondered if the endeavor to find the missing horde was going to begin soon. The thought of doing something other than sipping coffee by his morning fire forced his stomach into knots. An endless cycle of pain.
“Listen, son, at some point, you’re going to have to get up and help out. Them wounds of yours are healed well enough. That arm has been out of the sling now for a few weeks. I ain’t said nothing to you yet, but it’s not good to sit around and let your mind wither up. You’re all ate up, son, and it hurts to see you like this.”
Steve and Jody both sucked in their lips as they waited for a reply, but all they got was silence. They continued to stare like they could see Matt’s brain working.
Bill made his way over, took off his gloves, and smacked them together. Bits of hay, seed, and some droplets of water flew off. He shoved the gloves into a back pocket and warmed his hands over the fire.
“Good idea. I love a good morning fire,” Bill said. “Hope you all are up to it, but I think today would be a good day to start tracking that horde. The snow has melted enough to where I think we can see below the tops of cars now. If the horde got trapped under there somewhere, we could possibly start seeing the signs of them.”
Everyone nodded.
“Matt?” Bill asked. “Will you be joining us? Could use your help out there.”
He didn’t answer. He took his coffee and went inside.
Bill shook his head disappointedly. “You know, I respect you. All of you, Matt included. I know he’s going through something inside none of us can relate to, but at some point, he needs to find himself. I couldn’t care less if he helps out. I just don’t want him falling so far into that head of his he can never climb out. Anyway, the ladies should be making us some food for the road and some more caffeine.”
They set off from the ranch on horseback, leaving Matt behind. None of them, including Greg, knew the first thing about riding a horse, but they gave it their best and managed to stay mounted—most of the time. From Bill’s they followed the surface roads, despite being completely covered in snow, and made their way to the 82 East. They passed the fire roads that led to the old Perkins cabin and continued down the 82 until it made a clear breach into the untamed mountains. The road followed a creek for a while that rushed along, bothered by no one, answering to nothing, as it bashed into rocks, flowed through, in, and out of ice patches, and liberally sprayed the few deer attempting to drink from it. A sign on the side of the road said, “Chains required.” Another sign read, “Closed October through May.” It was January.
Bill trotted ahead of the group, occasionally stopping to look around and check the depth of the snow. He shoved a six-foot-long stick with etchings every foot to measure.
“Still over five feet of snow out here. Can’t see a damn thing other than the tops of signs and a few lifted truck hoods. Dammit, I was sure we would see more,” Bill said, agitated.
Greg trotted up. His horse danced in a circle as he tried to dismount. “Whoa, now!”
Bill laughed. “You get used to it. Just give her a second to calm down.”
Sure enough, after two more three-sixties, Greg’s horse stopped and allowed him to step off.
“Feeling a little queasy now,” he said as he touched his stomach. His face had gone slightly pale.
“Damn snow is still pretty deep. Aside from poking my stick in every few feet to see if I hit something, I don’t think we’re going to have any luck,” Bill said in a calm and even tone.
Steve approached, still mounted on his horse. “We might not be able to find any withered, but this would be a good chance to get some supplies while we’re out. Tara needs some maternity clothes. She can’t button her pants anymore.” He chuckled.
Bill nodded. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
Greg and Bill mounted their horses and headed back toward Aspen to see what they could gather. Bill did a mental checklist of all the things Cate had said she was low on or missing. Hopefully, he could come back with something other than Greg vomiting from motion sickness.
Matt went back out to the firepit once the team had departed on their mission. He threw another log on the fire and watched it roar back to life from the dwindling flicker it had become. The heat from the tall flame warmed him.
The ridgeline was barren with the exception of a few measly trees that poked out of the snow. They reached for the sky with their bare limbs, asking to be acknowledged. It was sad, almost pathetic, how helpless those trees looked. Matt stared at them for a while. He wondered if the trees felt the same way he did when Tara, Steve, or Bill stared at him with the same wondering eyes of curiosity. He hated that feeling of anxiety he got when someone stared too long because they were worried. All he wanted was for them to mind their business.
His thoughts were interrupted by shadows near the summit of the ridge. At first, he thought it was a deer or an elk, but then he saw something glimmer like a star in the night sky. Any other day he would have thought more of it, but on that morning when he was at his lowest, he closed his eyes and hoped for a bullet.
Please end me, so I don’t have to.
And he waited.
20
You’re Never Alone
Breath fumed out of Steve’s nose and mouth, like a running car waiting to be put in drive. He locked eyes with Jody, who returned his gaze with a silent, curt nod.
Then, bang.
The door exploded, sending fragments of weathered wood splintering off in all directions. Jody moved inside the dark room with only the faint light of the waking sun to guide him. Steve entered a single step behind Jody. They were greeted by mannequins wearing maternity clothes and behind them, more rows of clothing.
“Clear right,” Jody called out.
“Clear left,” Steve bellowed.
Bill casually drifted in. “Room clear.”
Jody and Steve looked at Bill as he plucked at a designer shirt made for a woman in her third trimester of pregnancy. He looked unimpressed by the overpriced garments.
“You know, my Cate could have spun her up some stuff. Not this…” He took the shirt off the rack and held it up. “Whatever this is.”
“Feel free to wait outside. I’ll only be a few minutes,” Steve said.
Bill shrugged, then walked outside to find Greg, who stood with his arms leaned against the snow-covered rails of the second-story balcony. He gazed over the vacant city, watching the shadows.
No footsteps but their own.
No flickering lights from warming fires.
No voices that echoed for attention.
Only abandoned buildings and snow-covered dreams of vacations forgotten. This town was another extension of the wasteland—only colder.
“What’s weighing heavy on your mind, friend?” Bill asked.
Greg whipped his head toward the sound of Bill’s voice, as if surprised by the sudden appearance of their savior. “Didn’t hear you come up. Snuck up on me.”
“These things happen when one’s not aware of his surroundings.” Bill smirked.
“Reckon so,” Greg said, then turned his attention back toward the white-washed landscape of downtown Aspen.
The rattle of Steve and Jody pulling maternity clothes off their hooks and hangers echoed with taps and clatters. They might as well have been throwing hammers at glass.
Greg turned back toward Bill. “Can’t say much of anything. I’m just looking out yonder. I see these empty buildings and remember… Some days, it hurts. Others…well, I reckon it always hurts.”
“I know the feeling, friend. Even with Cate, the emptiness out here can bring the strongest man down. It’s brutally cold and equally lonely. I’m just thankful I’ve got my Cate. Oh, my Calamity…without her, I’d just die. I mean that.” Bill said.
“I believe you would, Bill,” Greg said, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen a pair quite like the two of you.” He gave him a good squeeze again before letting go.
Steve and Jody appeared from the inside of the store.
“Ready when you are,” Steve said.
Greg mounted quietly, then trotted off down the middle of the street. No cars to honk at them as they meandered at a dragging pace. No angry drivers to scream at them to move their asses. Just the sound of snow crunching gently under the horses’ hooves.
Greg’s head swiveled left to right, then back to the left again, making note of his surroundings, relying on instinct to trigger an action in his mind. But there was no one and nothing lurking in the great empty beyond. No kids being dragged along by their anxious parents’ hands. No small dogs being pushed in strollers like newborn babies. No men with guns aimed at their heads. Not even a damn withered shambled out of a store front looking to feed. Aspen appeared to be dead empty.
Greg took a deep, cold breath, then sighed with a great sadness. His heart hurt from loneliness. Bill was right, he thought. He was dwelling on something more than the emptiness of the world. But none of that mattered. The sadness, the loneliness, the discomfort of everything, it all disappeared and meant absolutely nothing as his eyes caught the faintest glimmer of orange light coming from inside one of the stores.
“Hold up,” Greg said. “I’ve got something up here.”
Jody hurried his horse and came to a stop next to Greg. “What is it?” he said.
Greg pointed toward the building with the fire burning inside. It was faint and likely, should have gone unnoticed. The snow covered most of the lower-level store windows, but it seemed the heat from inside the building had warmed the window and caused the snow to melt slightly on the outside. The light reflected off the wet snow and caught Greg’s eye.
“Pretty sure someone’s inside there,” Greg said.
Greg started to dismount, but stopped as Bill trotted up and said in a quiet voice, “Okay, so there are some people inside. Live and let live, I say. If we don’t bother them, they won’t have any reasons to bother us. I say we get.”
Greg pursed his lips. “Bill, you’re a good man, and I can appreciate your approach, but I can tell you now that whoever’s in there more than likely already knows we’re here. And it’s probably best we know what kinda people they are versus finding out the hard way. Steve, find us a way inside.”
Steve dismounted his horse and jogged through the snow to the backside of the building.
Greg watched each step Steve took, his weight sinking his legs knee-deep into the snow, leaving behind large tracks. After several seconds, Steve waved them forward, then both Jody and Greg dismounted to join him. Bill stayed behind.
Greg was first up the ladder. He hit the rooftop sinking half way to his knees in snow. Then turned, peered over the roofs edge, and watched as Steve and Jody followed suit. They made their way over to a heavy steel door that read, “Emergency Exit. Alarm Will Sound.”
Greg gave the door a tug but it didn’t move.
“Here, let me,” Steve said, replacing Greg’s grip with his own.
As Steve pulled it open, someone else came climbing up the ladder after them. They all turned to see who it was.
“Glad you decided to join us,” Jody said as Bill pulled himself over the roof’s edge.
Bill offered him no response.
The sound of frozen metal breaking away from its seal fractured the still air with a loud crash and whoosh of air. One by one, they dropped into a dark, confined storeroom with the smell of burnt wood and chemicals punching them in their faces upon landing.
“Smells like they’re burning plastic,” Steve said. “It reeks.”
A thin layer of smoke sat in the air like smog in a busy city. It hovered at face-level, forcing them to endure its toxicity as they made their way to the front of the store. Steve suppressed a cough that managed to escape enough to make his lips flutter and flap.
Greg was the first one to step out of the darkness toward the orange firelight that flickered in the center of the snowboard rental shop. Several children lay bundled up in heavy jackets as blankets as the fire burned gently around them. Two women sat huddled together in a corner. One of them clutched a knife in a tight fist, their faces washed with fear as their lips quivered.
“Whoa, now,” Greg said calmly as he lowered his rifle. “We ain’t here to hurt y’all. Just saw the fire and wanted to check to see who was roaming about.”
Bill pushed his way toward the front. “Dammit,” he snapped. “Shoulda just stayed on my damn horse.”
Greg peered around the room, keeping his eyes on the woman and her knife but also taking note of what else was around them. He saw the few goods they had stuffed in a corner—a few articles of clothing, a backpack, and some empty bags of freeze-dried foods. Nothing that would lead him or anyone else in the group to believe these people were anything more than scared survivors.
“My name is Bill,” Bill said. “I can help you all out if you need it. I used to be a medic of sorts in the military.”
Bill took a slow, cautious step forward, but the woman with the knife took a single, sidelong swipe at him.
“Get out,” she growled through rotted, yellow-stained teeth.
“Okay,” Bill said, lifting both of his hands up and retreating. He turned toward Greg. “I’m not trying to be a dick when I say this, but under no circumstances am I bringing a bunch of feral dogs into my lot. I’ll help those who want it. Now, let’s get out of here.”
Greg bit his lip. He looked around and didn’t see anyone else. They had come in from the back, which appeared to be the only entrance. He couldn’t recall if he had seen any footprints leading in. How long had they been trapped inside? Were they trapped, or were they…waiting?
Bill interrupted Greg’s thoughts. “Let’s go.”
They backed out one by one, not leaving their backs exposed to the scared women. The last thing they needed was a knife in the back. Greg made sure he was the last one out.
They mounted their horses and headed back toward the ranch. Greg took up his point position and monitored the last few blocks of the city with Steve following up from the rear.
Out of the corner of his eye, Steve caught the faintest glimpse of what he thought was a shadow move. He turned toward the movement but didn’t see anyone or anything. He focused on the area—it was a small alleyway between two red brick buildings that resembled something out of the colonial era. A blue light post with cracked, frosted white glass stood erect out of the snow, but no person or animal moved about.
He dismissed the movement and carried on home with the group. He was tired and needed rest. When he was tired, his brain could be misleading.
But so could the wastelands.
21
Fear, Emptiness, Despair—Now, Please Kill Me
“Come on, goddammit, fucking kill me,” Matt screamed. “You fucking pussies, do it. Fucking do it!” He wailed violently through the empty landscape, scaring only himself. “What the fuck are you waiting for? Come on.”
Only the whoosh of heavy winds responded.
He stood with his arms spread open, stark naked in the open field with snow up to his ass and a cold breeze blowing his genitals into hibernation. Matt could no longer take the pain, the suffering, th
e internal dialogue that went around and around and around again in what seemed like a never-ending spiral down a rabbit hole to hell, but never actually landing at a final destination. His brain snapped at the glimmer on the ridge, the shadows of men who taunted him the way his memories did. He needed an out. No bullet, no out. When it didn’t come, he snapped.
Matt dropped to his knees in tears, his arms limp at his sides as he hopelessly caved in on himself with a defeated mind and a broken body. “Why…won’t…you fucking end me,” he whimpered.
Another heavy gust of wind dusted snow across the terrain and smashed his reddened flesh with icicles. He sighed in defeat and cried helplessly into the palms of his hands.
Steve and Greg trotted side by side ahead of Jody and Bill. They spoke to each other about the women and children they’d come across. There was a level of suspicion they all felt about the group and had unanswered questions. Where were the men? If there were men, what happened to them? How long had they been there, and where had they come from?
As they approached the gate to enter Bill’s ranch, Steve heard a voice crying out. It sounded like a sad child calling out for his parents. It sounded like Chris.
Jody picked up his pace and trotted next to Steve and Greg, leaving Bill to saunter in the rear. Had the boy found them after all this time, through this weather? But as they trotted closer, Steve realized it wasn’t Chris. The sensation of hope that the boy was somehow alive sank away, leaving him with a feeling of emptiness and hopelessness. The voice wasn’t even that of a child. It was Matt, screaming chaotically into the wind. And why in the hell was he naked?
Steve stared at the speck of flesh in the distance that was his friend. It didn’t make sense. What had happened while they were gone? Why was Matt in the middle of Bill’s field, crying and naked?
A Thousand Miles To Nowhere: An Apocalypse Thriller Page 20