Blizzard Warning: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (The Damaged Climate Series Book 3)

by J. R. Tate

  “We’re in fine shape right now. We are taking a break to rest the horses. We still have plenty of food. I think we’re going the right way. Ryan would be doing the same for us if this were reversed.” Darryl sat beside Steve and patted his leg. “Don’t die out on me now, Steve. I know just a few minutes ago I mentioned wanting to do what Doug did, but I need to find my son. I need to make sure he gets back to his family.”

  Steve tried not to say it but he just blurted it out before he could stop himself. “Back in town you didn’t seem the least bit interested in the possibility of Ryan being kidnapped.”

  Darryl forced a small smile. “I know. Because I didn’t figure it’d be possible that the accusations against Chief Rayburn were true. But then I came to realize that nothing is as it seems. Nothing will ever be how it was. And then the possibility became more realistic. We gotta keep going. The why’s and what if’s will eventually be answered if we don’t give up. You have been the voice of reason, the happy go lucky guy since I met you. If you’re going to become the dark and brooding one, we’re gonna have some problems. That’s mine and Ryan’s job.”

  Steve laughed and chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought about Darryl’s words. He was right – Ryan wouldn’t even hesitate to be out in this if it meant saving them. “Okay, Darryl. Let’s get back to it.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  To both Ryan and Mike’s surprise, the horses had survived the night. Putting them in between two sides of the mountain helped serve as a shelter. They weren’t in the best of shape to ride for long distances but they would be healthy enough to carry them farther and faster than their own legs would be able to. Looking over his shoulder, Ryan checked to see if anything was behind them, whether it was a wild animal to kill for food or possible looters, he had a sneaking suspicion that they weren’t alone on their trip.

  For a moment, he pondered if it could be someone from Harper Springs, out to look for him. Steve would probably eventually realize that he hadn’t made it back, and if he hadn’t paid attention, Cecilia would definitely be making noise that his arrival back home was much later than anyone had anticipated. Making sure Mike wasn’t looking, he pulled the pocketknife from his pants and carved his initials into the tree trunk where he had the horses tied. Moving quickly, he put an R and a G as best as he could, the bark so wet that it fell off just by touching it. If someone really was out looking for him, hopefully they’d catch on and see it, and if they had, know what it meant.

  “You ready to get going?”

  Mike’s voice made Ryan jump and he took a few steps away from the tree, slipping the knife back into his pocket. Without answering him, he climbed up on his horse and waited, hoping to keep Mike’s attention off of the tree. Leading them away, Ryan tossed him the reins to his horse, keeping their backs turned away from the tree.

  Mike tied the horses together, just like he had done the day before. They were headed to New Mexico and though it wasn’t that far away, in the current conditions it could take a lot longer than usual.

  It was back to silence between the two men, the cracking of the snow the only sound. Ryan watched the sky – the sun was trying to break through the clouds but with each passing second, the northern sky seemed to be getting darker and the wind picked up, chilling him to the bone.

  “I think there’s another cold front coming in.” Ryan pointed north, fearing that another large storm might be the death of both of them. He already had shown early signs of hypothermia – thankfully, he had recovered nicely, but another occurrence could prove fatal for him.

  “There is a gap in the mountain range just over there. We get through that and it’s smooth sailing to our destination.” Mike ignored the fact that regardless of where they chose to cross over to the New Mexico state line, it wouldn’t stop the weather from bearing down on them.

  “I don’t know if we have time for that, Mike. Do you have another hiding place somewhere?”

  “No. That cave was my last camp before getting to my destination.”

  “You’ve been coming this way for a while, haven’t you?” Ryan asked, still in disbelief over what Mike could be up to and how he ever could’ve gotten involved in something so drastic.

  “Since before the tornadoes started, Ryan.”

  “I can’t...” Ryan cut himself off, shocked, hurt, and curious over the whole thing. He couldn’t allow himself to be angry. Anger would get him into even more trouble and they were so close he could taste it. There were a few more obstacles between him and finding out the truth, the most crucial one at that moment being the cold front speeding south, coming right for them. They were pawns in Mother Nature’s game again, almost as if the anomaly had something personal against Ryan.

  “Looks like another blizzard,” Mike replied, the emotion completely wiped from his tone.

  “Step on it, Mike! We gotta get moving!” Ryan urged his horse to go faster, but since Mike’s horse was on the lead rope, he was stuck. “If you want to make it through this, we gotta go. We are stuck right in the middle of whatever that cloud is going to bring!”

  Mike finally kicked into action, nudging the side of his horse. Though the animals couldn’t run fast in the deep snow, their instincts were kicking in, alerting them to find safety. The rope tightened so much that it almost snapped and Ryan plead with his horse to keep going and stay up with Mike’s. The cold wind hit them like a wall and when he looked behind him, a wall of snow was falling down the side of the closest hill, barreling right at them.

  The visibility fell to almost zero and by the tightening and loosening of the rope attached to Mike’s horse, Ryan could gauge how much quicker he needed to make his horse go. The biggest fear at the moment was slamming into a tree trunk, and he hoped that since Mike had traveled this way several times, he had a good vantage point on where to guide the horses.

  The avalanche of snow was nipping at their heels. The horses neighed loudly, knowing at any second they’d be killed. Ryan gripped the reins out of habit, holding on, though when the horses tumbled, he’d be taken down with them.

  “Mike!”

  He wasn’t sure why he was yelling his name. The snow enveloped them, the icy cold taking Ryan’s breath away as the force of the precipitation tripped the horses, sending them all toward the earth below. Ryan couldn’t see what was going on and expected pain as he hit, but the soft powdery snow cushioned his fall. Holding his breath, he closed his eyes as the snow wall buried him as his body continued to slide down the side of the hill.

  It felt like an eternity that he couldn’t breathe. Opening his eyes, his body finally came to a stand still and he realized he was buried under the mounds of freezing ice and snow. Moving quickly, he knew he had to get himself out. He needed oxygen and he also didn’t want to freeze to death. His clothes were soaked, providing extra pounds to carry as he frantically dug through the barrier, his body screaming for him to get to the surface. It was so dark that he feared he wasn’t even digging in the right direction, but as he went, the layers got thinner and easier to dig through, and when his head popped out, it was the best breath of fresh air he had ever gotten.

  Ryan’s first concern was Mike. Looking around, he tried to spot dark clothing in the snow. When he tried to stand, his head pounded and he felt liquid drip from his forehead, some stopping on his lip. When he licked, he tasted the metallic thickness and touched where his hairline and forehead met. There was a gash, though he couldn’t tell how big.

  Pulling himself to a standing position, he almost fell when he took a step. A combination of vertigo and newly fallen snow hindered his ability to walk, and he landed on his knees. Crawling might have been a better option, so he stayed on his hands and knees, searching for a man he needed to be alive, even if it was just for a bit longer so he could get him to their destination. The wall of snow had stopped once they had reached the bottom and though that was over, the howling wind made it even colder as it blew up against Ryan’s wet clothes.

  “Mike!
” He regretted yelling – his pulse pounded in his head, making pain shoot down his neck and into his spine. He couldn’t worry about a possible head or neck injury. He had to find Mike or getting as far as they had would be for nothing.

  His eyes scanned again and a jolt of energy shot through him when he saw the snow moving about twenty yards from where he was. Mike shot through the surface much as he had, gasping at the air, freeing himself from the snow grave they both had involuntarily been placed in. Ryan helped him up, shocked at the color of his skin and lips. For all he knew, he looked exactly the same, but he didn’t have a mirror, nor did he care. At least they both had survived the avalanche.

  “That was a close one.” Mike’s teeth chattered as he spoke, his eyes widening when he finally got a look at Ryan. “Your head is bleeding.” He pointed up at Ryan’s forehead.

  “I know. We need to find a place to warm up and dry our clothes. I lost my bag with all of my stuff in it.” He patted his arms and shivered. “How much farther are we going? We lost the horses too.”

  “Just over there.” Mike pointed again, a wide grin forming on his lips.

  Ryan followed his index finger, his heart skipping a beat at the sight that Mike was pointing out. It was about a half a mile away, sunk down in a valley, giving them the perfect vantage point to look down at what Ryan presumed was the Atmospheric Frequency Control Project that Mike had been working on. It was like nothing Ryan had ever seen, and though he was finally getting his first glimpse of it, a million questions popped into his mind – the very first being, “How in the hell have you managed to keep the snow and ice off of it?” It was untouched by the weather and in perfect condition, like an oasis stuck right in the middle of the desert.

  ~~

  Steve felt like he was getting sick. A combination of the cold air and not being appropriately dressed for their journey was making his chest hurt. When he coughed, it was dry and unproductive, feeling like a bunch of rocks were bouncing around in his lungs. Both he and Darryl wheezed, both sounding like they and bronchitis or pneumonia. If they were out much longer, that would be a reality – and pneumonia was already a serious sickness – now, it was likely deadly for anyone who got it.

  The horses were struggling almost as bad as they were but he refused to call off the search mission. His inspiration was remembering how Ryan had helped him when the looters had taken him hostage. This was the least he could do for his friend, even when it felt like he could collapse into the snow and drift off into oblivion.

  “The tracks go up to that cave, it looks like,” Steve said, squinting against the bright sun reflecting off of the snow. “The tracks are getting harder to see. It must’ve snowed a lot harder up this way.”

  “Yeah, higher elevation means more precipitation.” Darryl followed him up, both men not talking much to help conserve energy.

  “There’s a cave.” Steve slid off his horse and tied it up, cautiously entering the dark cave. Clicking his flashlight on, spotting another fire pit that looked to have recently been used. “Well, someone was here too. I want to say it’s the same people but we really can’t go off of assumptions.”

  “Definitely two people – there’s two different types of boot prints outside.”

  Steve checked for supplies. The place had been stripped clean. He took a second to catch his breath and get a break from the cold wind. The inside of the cave wasn’t warm in the least, but without the wind chill making the temperature plummet, it was actually comfortable. What he’d give for a piping hot mug of coffee, dry clothes, and a heater blasting right on his face.

  “Steve! You might want to come see this.” Darryl’s voice echoed at the entrance of the cave, pulling Steve from his daydream of warmth and comfort.

  Hurrying outside, he turned the corner where the snow didn’t seem to be quite as deep. There were horse hoof prints everywhere. Darryl was pointing at a tree and Steve’s eyes followed it. Carved in the trunk were the letters R and G. It was messy and almost hard to tell what they were but clear enough to be a huge clue.

  “R and G,” Steve said.

  “R for Ryan. G for Gibson,” Darryl replied, his gloved finger tracing it.

  Steve knew exactly what it meant but let the other man sort it out. “You think it was him letting someone know he was really here?”

  “I’d be willing to bet that’s the story. Someone could debunk it and say these initials were left years ago but it’s too fresh. The way the bark is, the smell of the wood – it’s enough evidence for me to believe that we are following the right tracks. We are right on their heels. We just have to move faster.”

  Steve agreed. Though they were exhausted, cold, and almost defeated, they were so close he could taste it. Before the initials, they had no clue as to whether or not they were going the right way, following the right people, or if Ryan was still alive. Despite his physical ailments, a fire was lit underneath him and he found energy buried deep in the recesses of his body.

  Climbing on the horse, he motioned for Steve to follow. “I guess we better keep moving. It appears as if they are going fast themselves, and probably are on the other side of this range. If we go now and push through, we might be able to spot them on the other side.”

  It didn’t take much more convincing for Darryl to follow, both men pushing themselves and their horses to the limit. When they got to the top of the hills, the tracks stopped, as if Ryan and his captor had disappeared. Steve steadied his horse, knowing if he went down the other side at the speed they had been running them, they’d skid downward, killing the horses and fatally wounding themselves along with them.

  “Shit, where’d the tracks go?” Steve asked out loud, looking down the hill.

  “Looks like one massive snow slide.”

  “An avalanche. They got caught in a damn avalanche.” Steve shook his head, nausea coursing up his body. “That’s the only explanation as to why the tracks stopped abruptly. It’s not like they just vanished.” The snow was smooth, appearing completely untouched. “Son of a bitch! I hope he survived it.” Steve kept his voice low – these weren’t large mountains like the ones seen in movies where massive avalanches took out everything in its path – but with the large amounts of snow and the steep incline on the west side, no matter what size of avalanche it was, it was capable of doing a lot of damage. And if they spoke too loud, they could cause another one to happen.

  “Maybe they got down off of this before it hit.” Darryl clenched the reins, his eyes staying down as both men contemplated their next step.

  “I guess we head down there. We won’t know if he survived unless we go check and make sure.”

  Steve nudged his boot in the side of the horse, which refused to move at first, well aware of the dangers of the incline they were about to take. After a few more seconds of convincing the animal, they started down the mountain, cautiously taking each step out of fear of falling, as well as tripping off another avalanche that could take them out in the blink of an eye.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ryan wanted to hurry down to the valley to find out exactly what was going on. Mike stood beside him, pulling out the same gun he had been carrying through their entire trip, pointing it in Ryan’s back.

  “I wouldn’t move until I tell you to,” Mike said through gritted teeth, the cold steel of the barrel prodding into the small of Ryan’s back.

  “So now that you have me here, you’re going to kill me? Why not just do it back at your farm? Why waste all of this time?”

  Mike nudged him forward, the metal hard against his muscles, jolting him to take a step. Complying with Mike’s request, Ryan did everything he was told – Mike had already proven how nervous he was with the gun and the last thing he needed was for him to accidentally pull the trigger before Ryan had the chance to get away.

  “Just walk, Ryan.” Mike side-stepped the question, staying behind Ryan as they progressed toward the untouched valley.

  As they got closer, the depth of snow got shallow
er until Ryan found his feet on dry ground. His wet clothes clung to his body but even the temperature had recovered, shooting up to around seventy degrees if Ryan had to guess. The valley was lush and green, not even showing evidence that tornadoes, drought, or blizzards had ever even come through. For a second, he had to wonder if he actually had been shot and this was him dying. Or, maybe he was dreaming and would wake back up in the winter wasteland back at Harper Springs.

  There was a cabin offset from the open land and beside that, several acres of what appeared to be antennas all arranged in rows. The metal poles shot upward toward the sky, and at the top of each pole there were shorter metal poles perpendicular, forming an X that ran parallel to the ground, resembling helicopter blades, only they didn’t swivel like them. It looked like something out of a science fiction movie and Ryan stood in awe, trying to figure out exactly what these antennas did. The perimeter of the area was surrounded by a chain link fence with razor wire at the top, almost like a prison sat inside.

  Mike pushed him forward, reaching in his pocket for a set of keys. Unlocking the gate, they went inside and Ryan got an even better look. The metal poles shot up about thirty feet in the air and as they got closer, he could hear a low humming noise coming off of each one of them. There had to have been over one hundred total, making him feel small in the middle of the field that surrounded them.

  “What… what in the hell is this?” Ryan spread his arms, motioning toward the antennas.

  “The Atmospheric Frequency Control Project. You know, the thing you’ve been asking about the entire way here.” Mike smiled and rested against the closest pole, looking up toward the sky.