by J. R. Tate
After saying his goodbyes to his father, Margaret, and Ty, Ryan went up the stairs and out to ground-level. Steve was at the storage cellar and a couple of the firemen in his crew were helping him take inventory.
With a quick wave, Ryan went to the small horse barn that one of the men was able to build up before the weather had taken another turn. It wasn’t the most sound structure and he feared it had blown over in the harsh winter winds. It had stood up against Mother Nature and he was shocked that the few horses they had left had survived the night. It was a rare occasion where luck had worked on his side. Pulling himself up on one, he took it slow, pacing the horse. Riding in snow was a risk. He’d make sure to stick close to where he guessed the roads were.
It was probably best not to ride the horse due to the current inclement conditions but he’d cover far more ground with one. He had to take what he was given at the current moment. For now, Ryan had a horse. Until something else happened along the way, that was all that mattered.
Chapter Fourteen
Steve watched Ryan ride off, his concern on his friend’s safety. He was definitely spooked about something but Steve wondered why he was so hesitant to let it be known. It was as if a switch had flipped on and Ryan was paranoid about everything and everyone around him. What had changed? Steve hated that he was missing what Ryan was seeing – was it obvious, or was Ryan just more keen to detail? Steve had to chalk it up to Ryan being much more familiar with the area and the people – when a person was acquainted well with another, odd behaviors tended to stick out more. Steve had to tell himself that that was the case, and that he just didn’t know anyone well enough to make assumptions about out of the blue behavior.
The snow still fell but it was light, lending a very peaceful look to the area. Steve estimated that there was at least a foot of snow on the ground and the drifts were even deeper than that, some over his head against hills and trees. The temperature felt to be hovering right around the freezing mark but the wind made it feel below freezing.
Without proper clothing, Steve knew his time working outside was limited. He moved fast, salt curing what was left of the wild hog that Ryan had killed. Keeping it stored in the cool cellar was a good idea, but adding the salt was for safe measure. There was still enough there to feed everyone twice. The best bet would be to shove it all into the snow but the risk of losing it or it getting stolen heightened and Steve didn’t want to take that chance. There was also the risk of other animals getting it – there had been an ever growing amount of wildlife coming up to town, most hungry and thirsty and willing to take a chance getting close to humans.
Steve also gathered the vegetables so they’d be easier to access for Cecilia. Her plan to put them in jars and run them through a boiling water bath was the best way they could preserve everything before it went bad. They’d have to worry about botulism and food contamination when it was time and the thought of allowing all of their vegetables to go bad made Steve sick to his stomach.
“Need some help?” Cecilia stuck her head through the entrance of the storage cellar, making Steve jump.
“Jeez, Cecilia, you scared me! You trekked all the way out here in the snow?”
Grinning, she jumped down inside, landing on her feet without even using the ladder. “Darryl is letting Ty play in the snow right by the entrance to the shelter. Everyone has cabin fever so bad so we’re venturing out for a bit. Since it’s so cold, I don’t think we’ll be out long, since none of us have winter clothes.”
“Yeah, and it’s pretty cold out there. Last thing we need is for all of us to get sick. There’s not enough medical supplies to handle that.”
“Everyone grabbed their blankets from their cots.” Cecilia’s brow creased and she looked at the dirt floor, kicking some dust up with her boot. “I wish I could think up a good way to make some warmer clothing. We didn’t produce enough cotton and we don’t have the equipment to concoct something anyway.”
“We have the hides from the boars. We could try and do something with that. I’m not a major hunter but I’m sure someone here is.”
“Oh, yeah. Big hunting area around here,” Cecilia confirmed with the shake of her head. “But that’s not enough. Maybe we can send a couple of guys on a hunting trip. Deer, boar, fox, even mountain lion. We could do like the Native Americans did and use up every bit of the animal we can.”
“As long as they’re a good shot. We can’t use up too much ammunition in case the looters come back,” Steve replied, piling up the vegetables in a tote.
“Always something to think about,” Cecilia sighed. “It’s so crazy how we took life for granted before everything. If we were cold, we had a sweater. If we wanted to hunt, we grabbed a box of shells. There was really no worry about replenishing anything – we always bitched about small paychecks and not having any money but in the grand scheme of things, it was all a bunch of sound and noise. Life really was great.”
“And it will be again.” Steve patted her on the shoulder. “We’re stronger because all of this.”
“Do you think Ryan will make it back this time?” It was a drastic change in subject but evidently, something that Cecilia had on her mind and needed to talk about.
“Of course I do. You don’t?”
She bit her bottom lip and ran her hand over an ear of corn. “I swear he has more lives than a damn cat.”
“Which is all the more reason to believe he’ll get back here safely.”
“The problem is, I don’t know how many he has left.” A tear trickled down her cheek and she quickly wiped it away. “I’m so sick of belly aching over this. We need to get down to business. It’s cold in here and my toes are already going numb. What do you need me to do?”
Steve knew she wasn’t done talking about it but he didn’t want to press the matter. They did have work to do so he let it be until there was a more opportune time to talk. Cecilia and Mindy had bonded. Maybe she’d completely open up to her and feel better once she vented.
Forcing a smile, Steve lifted the tote. “I guess we can get to canning. There’s some propane bottles in the back and a couple of camping stoves. Those Mason jars you gathered from your folks cellar are also down here. Ryan made sure they didn’t get destroyed. We can also refill some of the water bottles and canteens with the snow. Ice cold water sounds amazing right now.”
“Then let’s get to it.”
Cecilia grinned and began gathering the supplies she needed to get the canning done. It was going to be a long, cold day, but to Steve, it was better than sitting around the shelter wasting time. At least the camping stoves would put off a little warmth. And at least he’d feel productive about something.
~~
Ryan wasn’t sure where Mike Rayburn was but his first course of action would be to go back to his ranch and see if he could rustle up some kind of clue to move his speculation in the right direction. The wind bit him to the bone despite the layers of shirts and jeans he was wearing. The blanket made into a beanie was helping and doing more good than not having something covering his head but he wouldn’t be able to do long hours out in the weather. He couldn’t risk getting sick or losing a finger or toe.
He kept the pace slow. There were areas in the snow that the horse slid and almost fell in, so keeping it close to where the original highways and roads were was a safe way to make sure they’d stay on solid ground if they happened to fall into a deep pit of snow. At times it was hard to remember where the roads were – it had been months since Ryan had actually driven the roads and though he had been in the area most of his life, his memory was fading him when it came to details like that. Now his compass was on, wanting him to go the most direct route to his destination but he couldn’t risk losing the horse. He’d be able to cover triple the ground with it as opposed to tiring himself out much faster on foot.
He had also debated on whether or not going alone was a good idea. His overreaction to not trusting anyone might have been harsh. Steve was a good man that Ryan felt al
most certain wasn’t a part of whatever might be going on. He would have enjoyed his friend’s company on their ride to investigate, but on the other hand, he also needed Steve back in Harper Springs to take care of his family and get the ball rolling on the winter preparations.
Steve was from Oklahoma where they had harder winters than their part of Texas. He also knew about quick harvesting when the weather turned bad. His expertise in those areas made him the best candidate to stay back and supervise everything on their checklist. And since he could trust him, he knew his family was going to be okay without him there to make sure.
The ride alone made Ryan’s thoughts run wild. The most plausible thing he could think of with Mike was that he was working with the looters. He hoped it would be as simple as that, though being an inside source for the growing group of thieves could be detrimental. He wouldn’t be able to stomach the idea of giving up their town to those people after all of the hard work they had put in. But at the same time, he wondered if it really was worth fighting over. The town itself wouldn’t be that bad of a loss – with the harsh weather going from extreme to extreme, leaving the area could be a good idea if they had the resources to locate. It was the loss of food and supplies that made Ryan’s defense mode turn on full force. They had worked hard gathering and growing what they had – He couldn’t just let someone march in and take it without a big fight.
Hopefully, figuring out what Mike Rayburn was up to might put a hitch in their plan if that really what he was up to. What else could he be doing? The world was different now – their options were completely limited to just surviving.
Ryan pondered several possibilities during his ride in hopes to keep his mind off of the bitter cold that nipped at every inch of his body. Looters was the top reason on his list. Or what if Mike was working with some kind of higher power? What if the government was responsible for what was going on? It was completely far-fetched and Ryan had never been a conspiracy theorist, but with as crazy as things had escalated, he couldn’t downplay anything.
What would the conspiracy be? Wipe out areas for population control? Warfare against the United States? With the Middle East waging war against America, what if they finally found a way to kill them and completely cripple any chance at coming back stronger? Ryan had read studies where it was believed that the government had ways to manipulate the weather. What if this was one of those instances?
Ryan shivered, partly due to the icy cold weather, and partly out of fear for the unknown. Hopefully this was all just his imagination running wild due to not having anyone to talk to. He’d stick to his first worry – warding off looters who were using Mike as an inside source. He’d much rather take that on than weather manipulation or possible war being controlled by the atmosphere.
He came up on Mike Rayburn’s ranch, the hill where his house once stood off in the distance. The mangled trees surrounded he concrete foundation, reminding him of what it once was – a beautiful, two-story farmhouse that was the epitome of a blue collar family doing well in America.
Ryan eased the horse into the valley, its hooves skidding on the icy surface below. In weather like this, it would be very easy for someone to be a tracker – if someone was following Ryan there would be no issue in knowing exactly where he was, but he really didn’t have a choice. There wasn’t enough time to cover up is own tracks. If they continued to let whatever was happening pan out, they were down to months and possibly even weeks when it came to survival.
He had to keep watch in three places – behind him for trackers, in front of him to make sure Mike wasn’t there, and down, to make sure that the horse wasn’t going to step into deep snow and break its leg. The last thing he needed was to have an injured horse and even worse, to have to put the animal out of its own misery.
Being able to see tracks in the snow would also help Ryan. Clean and fresh snow meant he would be alone. Though it was still snowing, it wasn’t falling fast enough to fill in anyone else’s tracks, at least, not yet. He continued to shiver and wondered if the temperature was dipping even more than when he left town. He had to chalk part of it up to his imagination – with the gloomy skies, steady snowfall, and occasional wind gusts, it was enough to play with anyone’s mind.
Approaching the area where Ryan estimated the cellar was, he slid off of the horse, guided it through a moderate sized snow drift, and tied it to a tree nearby. Hugging the layer of clothes around his midsection, he looked for something to try and help clear off the snow so he could find the door to the cellar. It was about the only place he might be able to find something that Mike Rayburn could possibly be hiding.
Ambling back through the snow to the dead tree, he pulled on a tree branch, the wood snapping and finally giving way with added force. The heavy snow that had accumulated on the branches helped, the weight proving to be too much for the tree that seemed to have either been killed during the tornadoes or burned up during the drought – regardless of its demise, it was a win for Ryan, and it was the perfect size to use to push the snow around on the ground.
It was hard to get a good vantage point of where the cellar might be. He tried to think about before the weather had turned on them, back to when everyone at the firehouse would join for barbecues and parties. There was a large, in ground swimming pool behind the house and the cellar was about two hundred yards from the house in the side yard, up next to a row of pecan trees that Mike was so proud of, now most mangled up, twisted, and uprooted.
Ryan took large steps, roughly estimating the measurement with his stride. Clutching the tree branch, his hands ached as he tightened his grip, the cold air harsh against his exposed skin – unfortunately, he was unable to cover his entire body with the lack of winter clothes and supplies they had back in town.
Lowering the branch, he swept it from side to side like a broom, pushing snow sideways, the powdery substance blowing in the wind. He hit hard layers and kicked it with his boot, trying to knock the ice layers under the snow loose. It took a lot of energy and time but if he couldn’t find the cellar, his entire trip out to the Rayburn ranch was a complete waste of time and resources.
With his next step, Ryan felt like he hit a hollow spot. Stomping his boot, it felt much different than the ground just a few feet behind him, so he focused there, working harder to clear the deep snow that swirled on the ground. Once he got about six inches swept away, he was faced with another icy layer. Remembering he had a hammer in his bag, he pulled it out and slammed it against the sub-zero layer that was serving as the perfect force-field to keep him out of Mike Rayburn’s property.
He had to take a break often – his lungs burned and ached from breathing in the cold, dry air. When he coughed, his chest tightened and he tried to pay attention to any signs of hypothermia or frost bite. Checking his hands, they looked to still have some color in them. He had a thin pair of gloves on but they were now wet, chapping his skin and damaging it.
Each time he took a break, he had to force himself to keep working. He could see the door of the cellar right under the ice, the translucency giving him enough of a clue that he was in the right spot. If he could just get the ice layer broken, he’d be able to get in and start digging for clues. He had to stop with the self doubting – Mike was up to something and Ryan wasn’t going to allow his mind to convince him otherwise.
With one more hard hit, the ice cracked like a piece of glass, the split spreading enough for Ryan to remove what was left with his hands. Right below him was a haven to get out of the wind and snow – but most importantly, his chance to hopefully get down to the bottom of what his former friend and Chief was up to.
Chapter Fifteen
Cecilia set up the camp stoves – there were two total, which meant she had eight burners to work with. The large pots they had found took up two burners each which was fine – it was going to take two burners to help warm up the water hot enough to get the canning jars to seal.
Mindy helped her stuff the jars with vegetables and fill each with wa
ter. Steve was cutting them up small enough so they would fit and Ty was busy playing with the clippings that they wouldn’t be able to use.
“That sure is keeping him occupied,” Mindy said, motioning toward Ty with the end of a carrot.
“He’s helping!” Cecilia replied, smirking. “I love how it doesn’t take much to keep him busy. I’m glad he doesn’t have ADHD or something. This would be hell for everyone involved if he did. I’m so glad he has a great imagination.”
“So, where is that husband of yours?”
Mindy’s tone came off harsh and Cecilia had to tell herself that she didn’t mean it. It was almost accusatory, like he wasn’t around helping them. If only she could spout off what he was really up to, namely saving their asses from whatever of whoever was causing the turmoil, it would help alleviate the tension in her mind and the weight she was carrying on her shoulders. But she couldn’t spill it – it could compromise everyone’s safety. Not being able to trust anyone felt like Cecilia was going into battle with her hands tied behind her back.
“He went out to see if there were any supplies he could gather. Also to hunt – we could use animal hides now more than ever.” Keeping her replies to a minimum would be the best – she felt like she had an arrow pointed over her head, telling everyone she was covering for Ryan. In reality, it was just paranoia.
“He’s brave for going out in this. Looked like more snow was on the way from the north.” Mindy stuffed a jar full of potatoes and screwed the gold metal ring around the top of the jar, handing it to Cecilia.
Lowering it into the boiling water, Cecilia made sure they didn’t overload the two pots so they wouldn’t spill over. The water was at a rolling boil, perfect to get them sealed up as best as they could. It still wouldn’t do the job of a pressure cooker but it was better than leaving them in storage to rot. This would preserve them a little longer but probably not long enough to get them through to planting season again.