America Offline | Books 1 & 2 | The Day After Darkness

by Weber, William H.

  Returning his attention to the fallen tree, Nate raised the hatchet and brought it down into the groove he’d recently created. It should have been the coup de grâce. Except, instead of hearing a satisfying thunk, all he got was a discordant clang, followed by a plop. He stared down in disbelief at the bladeless hatchet handle. The metal end had fallen off, landing at his feet in a clump of deep snow.

  He heard giggling from the camp site and a muffled sound as Dakota clapped her gloved mittens together. “Bravo!”

  He held up the handle and waved it around proudly. “Would you believe I paid a hundred bucks for this thing? Twelve hundred reviews on Amazon with four point seven stars out of five.”

  Dakota laughed even harder, her cheeks flushing a deeper shade of pink.

  He returned to the dead tree and brought the bottom of his fist down on the splintered end. It snapped off at once and fell into his pile. Afterward, he fished the hatchet blade out of the snow and reattached it.

  With camp ready and the horses fed, they set about lighting the fire. Both he and Dakota rummaged in their respective bags for the necessary gear. Seconds later, Nate emerged with a flint fire starter. The device was divided into two parts. The first consisted of a three-inch rod of magnesium and flint. Next to that was the striker. The process was simple enough. You began by shaving off magnesium and setting it on a uniform surface. Then you ran the striker along the flint, directing the sparks at the shavings. Once the shavings caught, you could then begin adding your kindling, going from the smallest pieces on up. Given that humans had discovered the art of making fire tens, if not hundreds of thousands of years ago, you could hand the kit to a young child and they’d have the details figured out in no time.

  “Or we could use this,” Dakota said, flashing the lighter she had just removed from her bag.

  Nate waved his hand. “Okay, smartypants. Be my guest.”

  She lit the birch bark with the lighter and the flames began to spread at once, the wood positioned above it crackling and popping. The waves of heat dancing along his frozen cheeks felt amazing.

  “I needed a knife earlier to cut the evergreen branches,” Dakota began.

  “There was one in my bag,” he told her.

  She held it up. “Yeah, I found it. Hope you don’t mind. You were so concentrated on showing that fallen tree who’s boss, I felt bad disturbing you.”

  “That’s fine. My go-bag doesn’t contain any secrets.”

  Dakota nodded. “Yeah, I noticed. It also doesn’t contain anything all that useful.”

  Nate straightened. “What do you mean?”

  She was trying hard to hide the smile on her face. “I’m just saying you’ve got a lot of gadgets that look great but aren’t all they’re chalked up to be.”

  “You mean the hatchet?” It was back in one piece and he held it up as if to prove the point.

  “Yes, but more than that. For instance, there’s the tactical flashlight that’s supposed to be waterproof, but isn’t. A compass that doesn’t work. The knife that has the name of that survival guy on TV. In and of itself, a celebrity-endorsed product might not be the end of the world, but after cutting a few saplings, I can already see the blade is starting to dull.”

  Nate threw his head back and bellowed laughter. “Okay, enough. I get your point.”

  “If there was one thing my uncle Roger taught me, it’s that most of the kits sold online are junk made in China. In the nine months we spent together, I don’t ever remember seeing him with any shiny, high-tech gear. He was a big believer in the KISS philosophy.”

  “Keep it simple, stupid,” Nate said, agreeing. She was a smart little bugger, or at the very least observant. “It’s funny. You collect all this stuff hoping you’re never going to need to use it. But it makes you feel good. Makes you feel safe, like you’re ready for the worst possible scenario. The truth is I’m starting to think that none of us are ever truly ready for a disaster of this magnitude.” I learned my lesson the hard way with the hatchet.” He plucked up the tactical spade. “Let’s hope this holds out until after we finish the quinzhees.”

  After placing a fresh log on the fire, they tested the hardness of the shelter. Nate clambered up the side and stood on the dome, marveling at the structure’s ability to carry his entire weight. Satisfied, they began to dig their way inside, Nate with the spade, Dakota behind him pulling out the icy snow and tossing it aside. Once a sizable sleeping space had been carved out, Dakota went in with the evergreen saplings she had cut down and made a decently insulated sleeping platform. It might not be the Ritz Carlton, but compared with the prospect of sleeping outside, it didn’t feel far off.

  The sun was gone by the time they were done. Thankfully, Dakota had tended to the fire so that by now there was a solid bed of coals. Now just about anything they tossed in would burn nicely.

  Some time later, they were sitting in the warm glow, quietly eating a dinner of canned tuna and green beans, when the silence was broken by the sound of howling. Nearby, the horses began to whinny and stomp their hooves into the snow.

  Nate perked up, his fork still in the act of stabbing at a stray bean. It was impossible to tell the distance between them and the beast. Dakota scanned the frozen river beside the highway.

  “You see anything?” he asked, setting down the can and picking up his AR.

  She shook her head, looking almost disappointed. “I’m waiting to hear if there’s any kind of answer.”

  Then came the sound of movement through the trees. Nate sprang to his feet, aiming his rifle at the sound. “Draw your weapon,” he ordered Dakota. Reaching into her coat pocket, she withdrew the Glock she’d taken from the thug who’d imprisoned her.

  Whoever this was, they were getting closer, their movements slow and lumbering. If it was Shadow, he had one hell of a way of making an entrance.

  “Don’t shoot,” a female voice called out from the darkness.

  Nate hesitated and Dakota tensed. It seemed she was more wary of people than she was of wild, predatory animals.

  The slender form of a woman stepped into the light. Her tight-fitting cream-colored jacket was dirty and she had a scarf wrapped around her face.

  “Who are you?” Nate asked.

  “My name’s Brie,” she replied. Her voice had a slightly raspy quality to it.

  “All right, Brie, you mind uncovering your face?” Nate told her, in that deep authoritative voice he saved for situations such as this.

  The woman unwrapped the scarf. She was attractive, with strands of blonde hair poking out from beneath her beanie. “We’re friendly,” she said. “I swear.”

  “We?” Dakota asked, a touch of alarm in her voice.

  “I’m here with my husband Ed and my brother-in-law Dylan. We were heading to Byron when we saw the glow from your fire against the trees. Do you think we could warm up for a minute before we carry on? We could pay you.”

  Nate’s expression remained impassive. “Let me get a look at your husband and your brother-in-law first.”

  Two men came forward into the light and removed their hats.

  “This is Ed,” the woman said, pointing to the man on her right. He was above average height, with striking eyes and nice features. The winter hat he was wearing had messed up his hair, revealing the beginnings of a receding hairline. Dylan was the other man, shorter than his brother by maybe six inches with a fuller head of hair, but with much bigger ears. The two men nodded.

  “You can put the guns down,” Ed said, in a soft, non-threatening voice. “We mean you folks no harm.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Nate assured them. “Are you armed?”

  Dylan shook his head. “Between the three of us we got a Remington hunting rifle and a half-dozen bullets.”

  Bullets were what fired through the barrel of a weapon. Cartridges were the entire assembly, which suggested to Nate that these people didn’t really know what they were doing.

  “Then I’ll ask you to kindly unload the
weapon and lean it against one of those trees,” Nate instructed them.

  “No problem, mister,” Dylan said, swinging it off his shoulder and doing as he was asked.

  Nate’s rifle was still in the low ready position. “Just so we’re all clear, if I find out any of you lied about being armed, I reserve the right to start shooting.”

  “Hey, we just wanna get warm,” Brie said, frightened.

  “Believe me, I’m not trying to be that guy,” Nate told them. “I’m sure if the tables were turned you’d do the same.”

  Dylan returned from setting down the rifle. “We probably would.”

  Nate threw another log on the fire. Sparks flew up as the others gathered around, warming their hands by the flames. Dakota shuffled closer to where Nate was sitting, her Glock resting on her lap.

  “Did I hear you right when you said you were heading to Byron?” Nate asked, his pulse beginning to settle. “You do know about the meltdown, right? If I were you, I’d avoid Byron like the plague.”

  “Yes, sir, we were warned,” Ed told him, rubbing the tips of his fingers together. “Truth is, we’re heading to check on my folks. I got a sneaking suspicion they didn’t evacuate along with everyone else.”

  That got Nate’s attention. “Did you come from Rockford?”

  Brie nodded. “Yup. Left a good five hours ago. Hiking through this mess has been the toughest thing I’ve ever done.”

  “Tough is the understatement of the century,” Ed spat. “Closer to a nightmare if you ask me.”

  “Where in Byron do your folks live?” Nate asked, thinking of the farming couple they had met and how many others might have also stayed behind.

  “Canyon Street, I believe,” Dylan replied.

  Dakota stared into the flames of the fire, mesmerized.

  “Over by the Safeway?”

  Dylan nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.”

  Nate watched as the brother-in-law removed the backpack he was wearing and began to unzip it. “Easy now,” Nate said, a bolt of electricity running through his nervous system.

  Dylan grinned widely. “I’m just getting a drink, man. Something to warm us up.” Slowly, he reached in and came out with a bottle of Grey Goose vodka. “Nothing, but the finest for our new friends.” He removed the cap with his teeth and then took a swig, offering some to Nate, who turned it down, then to Dakota. The girl looked over at Nate, who shook his head, indicating it wasn’t a good idea.

  She seemed to go back and forth in an invisible tug-of-war before saying, “One little sip can’t hurt.” She took the bottle and tilted it back, then wiped her lips with the back of her hand. “Whoa, that’s strong.” She offered it to Nate, who again refused.

  “Come on, man,” Dylan said. “It’ll help you stay warm.”

  With strangers in their camp and a wolf on the loose, there was no way in hell he was gonna start knocking back shots of the hard stuff. “Thanks, but I’m gonna pass.”

  “Your loss,” Dylan lamented, passing the vodka over to his brother, Ed.

  The bottle made the rounds a few more times before Ed pointed with his finger. “What’s that scratched into the side of your handgun?”

  He was talking to Dakota. She glanced down at the Glock in her lap, seeming to notice the strange marking for the first time herself. It looked like a trident, etched into the slide with the tip of a sharp blade. “No clue,” she said, truthfully. “I took it off some thug bastard who put me in a cage.”

  Brie was in mid-sip when she spat vodka into her lap. “A cage? What? Are you serious?”

  Dakota nodded, her eyes a touch glassy and unfocused. She held up three fingers. “Not a word of a lie. Even locked me up next to a wolf.”

  Dylan burst into a wild cackle of laughter. “Should have stayed put. They might have sold you to the circus. Those French guys. You know, Serk due Soley.”

  The others bellowed laughter, their voices starting to carry. The sound was making them vulnerable. And as far as Nate was concerned, these travelers had more than worn out their welcome.

  “What do you say we wrap this up?” he suggested. “The girl and I have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

  “Oh, come on, Nate, not yet,” Dakota protested, reaching for the bottle. “I’m having fun.”

  In spite of the cold, Nate felt the blood rush into his cheeks. “First of all, you’re too young to be drinking.”

  “Chill out, ma―” Dylan began before Nate cut him off.

  “We’re done,” he insisted, his voice low and menacing.

  The message was clear: Keep on pushing, and I won’t be held responsible for what happens next.

  “Okay, dude, no problem. We’ll leave,” Brie said, standing and straightening out her ski pants. “Before we leave, I gotta go to the bathroom.” And with that she staggered off into the woods. Nate’s eyes traced her movements as she disappeared into shadow. She had not headed toward the rifle Dylan had leaned up against the tree, but that paranoid part of his brain wondered nevertheless whether she intended on circling back to grab it.

  Across from Nate, Ed and Dylan sat staring back at him.

  “So where are you really headed?” Nate asked.

  One of Ed’s eyebrows perked up. “Excuse me?”

  The expression on Nate’s rugged face was cold, emotionless. “You heard me.”

  “What’s the problem?” Dakota said. “These guys are our friends.”

  “Stay out of this,” he barked, his stare solid, unwavering. He turned back to the two men. “You lied to us before and I was willing to let it go, but something tells me you’re up to no good.”

  The AR was sitting next to Nate, close enough that he could grab hold and bring it to bear before either man could close the distance between them.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dylan said, waving his hands before him.

  “Byron has neither a Canyon Street nor a Safeway.”

  A dead cold silence followed for several seconds.

  “We made a mistake, is all,” Ed said. “Got confused.” He pointed to the bottle of Grey Goose. “The booze. It’s the booze that got us all turned around.”

  “You said it before you started drinking,” Nate shot back. “Unless you want me to believe you’re heading into an irradiated area, through deep snow, hydrating yourselves with shots of vodka.”

  They fell silent again.

  “I’ll ask you one last time, where were you headed?”

  The fun-loving, easy-going glint faded from Dylan’s eyes. “We found what we came looking for. Wasn’t hard either. Tracks in the snow led us to the farm and then along the highway. It was almost as though you wanted to get caught.”

  Dakota let out an audible gasp right as the crack from a rifle shattered the cool night air. For Nate, everything after that seemed to slow to a crawl. The rifle round zipped past Nate’s ear, thudding somewhere behind him. The same place where the horses were tied. The animals erupted into a deafening racket of whinnies and cries.

  Nate spotted the shooter outside of camp, little more than a silhouette. He stood, raising the AR, and managed to pop off two rounds before Dylan sprang to his feet and grabbed the rifle barrel, jerking it up and off target. Now all three men were standing, Ed and Dylan reaching into their respective jackets for what Nate could only assume were weapons. With the end of his AR still tightly held in Dylan’s grip, his only chance was to draw his own. Next to him, Dakota sat frozen, her face locked in an expression of pure terror.

  Nate’s pistol was in a hip holster under his jacket. He reached for it, only vaguely aware of another, sleeker form rushing toward them from out of the darkness. A moment later, a mass of fur and teeth leapt into the ring of firelight, its mouth open and aiming for the soft part of Ed’s neck. Ed was still fumbling for the gun in his jacket when the wolf’s jaws clamped down with terrifying and lethal force, crushing his windpipe. Both forms collapsed onto the ground, the packed snow around them turning crimson as Shadow shook his head.
Dylan stared down in utter horror, which gave Nate the brief opportunity he needed to raise his pistol and put a bullet behind the man’s left temple. Dylan dropped next to his brother, both of them dead.

  Nate then rushed to the edge of camp, ready to engage the shooter. Instead, he found Brie dead, the rifle lying next to her. It appeared the woman had done exactly what he hoped she wouldn’t do.

  Satisfied they were no longer in immediate danger, Nate collected the rifle and returned to camp. There he witnessed a sight he hadn’t expected. Dakota was crouched next to the wolf, rubbing his chin.

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Nate said, eyeing them warily.

  “What do you mean? He just helped us.”

  She did have a point. Nate reached out to show the beast some small sign of appreciation. His approach was met with a low growl from the back of Shadow’s throat.

  Nate retracted his hand, frowning. “He doesn’t like me.” He went into his bag anyway and grabbed a can of tuna. “Love or hate, I’m sure he’s hungry.” He opened it, took some in his hand and held it out. “Let’s see what you do with this, big boy.”

  Shadow swung his large powerful neck around, the corners of his nose dancing at the smell of food.

  “There you go,” Nate said, triumphantly as the beast inched closer. “You don’t hate old Nate as much as you thought, do you?”

  Shadow looked up at him with those dark eyes surrounded in amber. The animal tilted his head and then backed up.