"What do we do?" Ross said. "Stay in the truck?"
"Maybe, but we'd have to leave the engine running all night and we're already light on fuel," Solly said. "I'm going to get out and take a look."
He pushed open the driver's door, heaving against gravity as it tried to close on him, got one foot out and then slid the rest of his body through the narrow gap. Sure enough, the truck had slid down a slight incline and had turned 180 degrees. There was no way to get it out until the snow stopped.
Solly clambered back onto the road and scanned in both directions. The light was nearly gone and the air full of wet, driving snow, but he could see the unmistakable outline of a roof set against the deep black of the mountains.
He pulled the car door open again and looked inside. "There's a building up ahead; I'll go check it out and come back for you."
"Like heck you will," Wally said from the back seat. "That'd mean coverin' the distance three times instead of just the once. I say we stick together."
"But I can't tell how far it is—it could be half a mile, or it could be three times that."
Wally zipped his coat up and pulled his woolly hat down around his ears. "Then we'd best be gettin' on with it. The sooner we're inside, the sooner we can light a fire. My bones are chillin' and we haven't gone anywhere yet."
"What do we take with us?" Ross asked as he fastened his coat. "Packs?"
Solly nodded. "Yeah, but just one each. I'll take Alison."
He pulled the cylinder from the glove box and tucked it inside his jacket before sealing himself in again. "Are we ready?"
Solly would have been the first to admit he was a southern softie. Brought up in Texas, even the occasional snowfall in New York had come as a shock. Visiting cold places on vacation was one thing, having to live in them quite another. But the numbing cold that was seeping into his limbs as the light began to fail was beyond anything he could have imagined. They shuffled along like Emperor Penguins in a nature documentary, navigating more by hint and gut than by line of sight.
They covered the first half quickly enough, though all three were chilled to the bone. Suddenly, Wally gave a cry and Solly sensed him falling. Ross, who'd been behind the old man, had stuck out his hands, but had been taken down too. Solly could see them as nothing more than dark shapes moving against the slight iridescence of the snow.
"Are you okay?" Ross was saying. He'd gotten onto his knees and was leaning over the old man who was groaning in pain.
"My ankle," he moaned. "Twisted it, I reckon."
Solly cursed, put down his pack, and helped Ross to get Hammond to his feet. It was immediately obvious that he wouldn't be able to walk unaided.
"I'm sorry, boys," Hammond said. "I'm just a stupid old man who doesn't look where he's going."
"It could have happened to any of us," Solly responded. "We'll have to leave our packs here and come back for them once you're inside."
"No, I can manage! Just find me something to use as a stick, will you?"
Solly and Ross grabbed his upper arms and began moving slowly forward again. "We've got no time, we have to get under cover."
His face felt like a solid block of ice and he was convinced they'd become disorientated and headed in the wrong direction when he saw the outline of a roof to their left. "Thank God," he said as he pointed it out to Ross.
They were practically carrying Hammond now. The old man seemed drowsy and incapable of putting one foot in front of the other. Solly's arms ached and he could barely feel his feet now as they trudged towards the hope of somewhere to rest.
The light had totally gone before Ross walked into a closed front gate with a yell.
"Don't tell me you've sprained something too!" Solly snapped.
"I'm fine," Ross responded, opening the gate, his breath hissing through his teeth as he fought the pain.
"We've got to move fast," Solly said. "Wally needs warmth."
Ross picked up the pace. "He's not the only one; I've got no feeling in my hands."
They walked up the long drive, the snow accumulating against the house making every step harder than the last. Solly only knew they'd reached the front door because the darkness there was complete, and he left Wally hanging on to Ross while he used his arms to shovel the snow aside.
He felt for the door handle, but it didn't turn in his hand.
"Can you shoot out the lock?" Ross called.
"I can't see to shoot anything," Solly said. He moved along the wall until he found a window and, with a huge swing of his boots, he smashed it before clearing the debris.
It was utterly black inside and he recoiled from the unmistakable odor of decay that violated the fresh snow-filled air. But it was now a case of put up with the stink or die, so he stepped inside, his boots crunching on broken glass, and pulled the flashlight from his pocket. They were inside a living area that had been built around a brick and stone fireplace that lay dark and dead, but promising warmth. And it was so good to be out of the freezing wind.
Solly opened the front door and helped Ross inside.
"It stinks!" the boy said.
"But it's not so cold," Solly responded. "Here, help me get him onto the couch and I'll see if I can get the fire started."
The hearth was full of the ash from the night the previous occupants had died, so Solly swept it away and stacked some logs into a pyramid shape before reaching for the firelighters.
"You want to use some kindling on the bottom," croaked a voice from behind him.
"You're awake then," Solly said without turning around. "Now we've done all the hard work."
Ross, who'd been holding the flashlight, made his way over to Hammond. "He's shivering, Sol."
"Pile on some more throws," Solly said, gesturing behind him. So far, it looked as though they'd struck lucky here—these folks had been prepared for snowfall and their uninvited guests would be reaping the benefits. "Will you head upstairs and find the bodies? They're probably in the bedroom—shut the door so we can breathe. No, leave the flashlight here."
"How am I supposed to find which room they're in?" Ross said, sounding every bit the teenager he was.
"Follow your nose."
By the time Ross returned, the living room was filled with dancing amber light. Solly was using a painting he'd taken from the wall to block up the window he'd smashed.
"They were in the master bedroom," Ross said quietly. "And one of the smaller rooms. I think … I think it might have been a baby's room."
Solly sighed, turned, and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Sorry, son. But the smell's lessened already and I reckon we can stand it now. Come on, let's see what supplies they had in the kitchen."
Five minutes of searching yielded a few cans of vegetable soup which Solly poured into a saucepan and held over the fire for a few seconds before his hand burned. "From one extreme to the other," he said, before nestling the saucepan to the side of the hearth to warm up gently.
"I'm going to get our packs," he said.
"Now?"
Solly shook his head. "No, but when the sun comes up—I don't want anyone else stumbling on them. Doesn't look as though these folks have been disturbed since the Long Night, but if someone finds three packs in the snow, they're going to figure out where we went pretty quickly. You stay here and watch over Wally."
It was still dark when Solly awoke, but he sensed that dawn wasn't far off. He felt warm and comfortable, and even the smell from upstairs had largely dissipated. Either that or he'd gotten used to it. The last thing he wanted to do right now was go out into the cold again, but it had to be done.
He'd made up a bed on the couch opposite the one Hammond was snoring on, while Ross slept in a padded armchair covered in the blankets that littered the living area. With a sigh, he emerged from his nest and walked over to the remnants of the fire which he stoked back to life, dropping on a couple of logs to keep the place warm for his return.
Solly looked out of the window into the deep gray pre-dawn.
The snow had stopped, thank heavens, and he felt his spirits lighten a little. He put his boots on, wrapped himself up in his coat, and pulled his fur-lined hat down before opening the door and, as quickly as possible, shutting it again.
A few inches of snow had been left on the outside of the door, but there was no sign of any footprints approaching the house. He headed for the gate and pushed it open. The air was still and almost silent, the only sound the chatter of birds in the bushes to either side.
There was only one route they could have taken, and it looked as though they'd been pretty lucky as they'd clearly walked along a straight and flat drive to reach the house. He turned back when he was halfway along and saw that their shelter was a two story cabin that looked, to him, like a holiday retreat rather than part of a working farm. He planned to rest up for the day and assess Wally's condition, though he hoped to be able to free the pickup from the ditch before it got dark. He'd feel a whole lot more comfortable with a means of escape parked on the drive.
There they were! The packs had been left under a tree and the top half of the pile stood out, black against the snow. He turned his head quickly, sensing movement in his peripheral vision. It might have been a bird, but he didn't think so, too low down.
Solly picked up his pace, pausing a few feet away when he saw that one of the packs had been ripped open and its contents scattered. Foil ration packs had been ripped open and, around it all, paw prints. He drew his handgun and scanned the bushes. Nothing was moving.
Solly stepped forward and lifted the two unbroken packs by their handles, swinging one onto his back and holding the other in his free hand. The third pack, the one belonging to Ross, would have to stay here as he needed to keep his gun hand free.
He went to head off and found his way back blocked. A large black dog padded into view and stood, growling at him. The dog was flanked on one side by a German Shepherd and on the other by what looked for all the world like a wolf. Shapes detached themselves from the early morning shadows and took up positions around him.
These were no longer the beloved pets of the people who'd lived here; they were entirely feral and Solly saw unmistakable hunger in their eyes as saliva dripped onto the snowy path. He pointed the handgun at the lead dog—perhaps if he shot it, the others would scatter. But they didn't give him time. A shape leaped from his right, lunging for Solly's arm. He screamed as its teeth dug in deep and the others were upon him, forcing him to the ground.
Solly kicked furiously at the black dog and was able, finally, to shake off the one that had grabbed his arm. He swung the weapon around to point at it, but he couldn't close his fingers on the trigger, they felt like they belonged to someone else entirely. So he used the handgun as a club, thrashing away with arms and legs as the dogs tried to move close enough to attack.
The big black dog finally evaded his kicks and leaped onto him, straddling his chest. Solly cried out as spittle covered his face and the beast's jaws descended.
There was a sudden crack and the dog fell forward onto Solly, pushing him into the quickly reddening snow. Another crack and the dog to his right had been taken out. And then the animals were running, pursued by shots as they tried to escape.
Solly grimaced as he felt his arm where the teeth had penetrated. A hand appeared in his line of sight and he looked up. "I thought I told you to stay behind."
"Just as well I didn't," Ross said, reloading the shotgun with a smile.
Chapter 3
Bella watched as the dusty sedan slowed to a halt and Al walked forward to talk to the driver. Though she was now used to the routine, she hated to see her father expose himself to such danger. The barrel of a gun poked through the half-open window and Al raised his hands to show he was unarmed.
"Take it easy," he said, coming to a halt a few yards from the door. "We're friendly. If you want to just drive on, we won't stop you. But if you're interested in a trade then pull over. Keep your weapon if you want."
Al had changed the layout of the barricade so that there was an obvious escape route. Anyone who wanted to could veer off to the right and accelerate away, so it stood to reason that if they chose to drive up to where he stood, they wanted something. It was a far cry from the set-up Skulls had employed when they'd first met him here—the first she'd known was the banging of the tires as they were shredded by his trap.
They'd returned to the little community at the intersection for want of any other plan after rescuing Maddie. She was kept out of sight along with Luke, who'd revealed himself to be the son of the President of the TLX. Bella, Al and Skulls had agreed that their best plan was to lie low for a few days as the roads were likely being watched, but they still hadn't decided what to do to keep Maddie safe. Staying here in the long-term wasn't an option as the TLX would be spreading this way soon enough, but they couldn't agree on where it would be best to go. So, they stayed here for now.
The door opened and a woman got out, still pointing the gun at Al's chest. "I got nothing to trade," she said, "but my baby needs milk. Do you have any formula?"
Al called across to Bella. "This here's my daughter, Bella, she'll see to you."
Bella's chest tightened as the gun swung towards her when she came into view. She understood the suspicion but was acutely aware that this woman was on the edge of a breakdown and didn't want to be in the line of fire when it happened.
"What's your name?" Bella asked.
The woman seemed to have to think about it for a moment, as if struggling to recall. "Alex," she said as she lowered the weapon nervously.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Bella responded. "I know it's tough to trust people these days, but we're not in the business of hijacking cars. We've got enough of our own." She smiled and gestured at the car dealership behind her with its rows of vehicles displaying their now irrelevant sale prices.
"Look, I'll get you some formula if you don't want to come with me, then you can be on your way."
"No," Alex said, her shoulder's sagging. She went around to the other side of the car and lifted out a young child. As she woke the baby, she began to grumble and then the tears began to flow. "She needs milk. I found some cow's milk, but it didn't agree with her. She's getting so thin."
Bella looked at the child. She looked to be around six months old with pale skin and short blonde curls, in sharp contrast to Alex's Mediterranean complexion and tied-back black hair. "Where did you find her?"
For a moment, Alex's face clouded over, as if Bella was questioning her right to the child. But it passed as quickly as it had arrived. "I heard her crying when I was scavenging, two days after it happened. I couldn't leave her."
"What's her name?"
Alex shrugged. "I don't know what her birth name is, but I call her Shirley."
"As in 'Temple'?"
Smiling, Alex gave a little nod. "Not very original, I know."
"Let's go get you both some food."
Alex, Bella, Al and Skulls sat at a desk that had been dragged out of one of the offices and set with two others to form the long table they used for eating at. There were a dozen souls in the community here and Al insisted that they all came together for an evening meal. Skulls and his crew were sent out in twos and threes to scavenge food and supplies, which were used to sustain the group and for trade.
Alex had shrunk away when Skulls had arrived. He was a fearsome looking man, bald headed with a blonde beard and a distinctive skull tattoo on his cheek. He'd softened his appearance a little since Bella had first met him, and he had a disarming way about him that meant Alex relaxed within a few minutes as he fussed over the baby who was now greedily emptying her second bottle.
"What's it like out there?" Bella said.
"Grim," Alex said, keeping her eyes on the suckling child. "I come from Houston but wasn't there the night it all happened. When I went back, it was a burning pocket of hell. "
"The whole city is gone?"
Alex shook her head. "I don't know. I didn't stay long enough to find out. I
guess it can't have all been destroyed, but my home was gone. I guess my partner died that night. I never heard from him. My parents lived just outside the city. They were dead too." She reeled this off in a robotic voice, as if she were reading someone else's testimony.
"But I found this little one as I was about to leave, and all I've been thinking about since then is keeping her safe. There was this little community called Buck's Horn, to the west of here. We stayed there a while, but it got raided. We thought they'd come to help, but they just took everything we had, and lots of folk went with them."
Bella stroked the woman's back. "Who were they, do you know?"
"The new government in these parts. The TLX, they call themselves. They brought military trucks and something like a tank, and we thought they were distributing aid, but they stole our supplies and said anyone who wanted a safe place to sleep that night should get onto the trucks. Most folk did."
"Well, I guess it depends on what price you want to pay for safety," Bella said. "I've been there, inside their territory, and I don't plan on going back."
Alex gave a little smile. "I made the right call then, for me and Shirley. We wandered from place to place and ended up here. I ran out of formula days ago and she just throws up cow's milk, so I was going to see if I could scavenge some."
"You don't need to. Take all you want," Bella said.
"Thank you. I'm heading east, away from the TLX. I've seen them on the roads south of here, so I reckon it won't be long before you see them too."
Al exchanged glances with Bella. "Let's see if they're saying anything on the radio," he said before getting up and switching on the black box on the counter.
"…whereabouts of the kidnappers. The president's son was abducted from his home and his location is currently unknown. The administration is offering a reward of ten thousand dollars and guaranteed citizenship for intelligence leading to the recovery of Lucas Murphy. Anyone found harboring those responsible or who hinder the return of Lucas Murphy will be punished severely."
States of War Page 3