“When this weather lets up, we can follow the 82 through the mountains and hopefully find our way to the 24 North,” Jody said as he traced a finger over the map, pausing to take a sip of his whiskey. They had poured a bottle of whiskey—not just any whiskey, but Templeton Rye. According to Greg, it was the best rye on the market. “Yup, the 24 heads north and reconnects the 70 and hopefully get us out to Denver.” He took a final sip of the glass, polishing off the remaining amber liquid.
“Too much snow,” Greg bellowed. “We’ll be up to our damn necks in it. We’re gonna have to wait this out a bit. I reckon a few more weeks.”
“How are we on provisions? Any more of those Backpacker Pantry bags or MREs?” Steve asked.
“Yeah, a few more days’ worth,” Jody said. “But not enough to keep us going through a melt. We need meat.”
“Heard some wolves outside when I was chopping blocks. I’ll go hunt them in the morning,” Matt said as he stacked the last log on top of the pile.
The group smiled at the suggestion. Real food would be a much-welcomed change for all of them.
The bright glow of the mountain sunrise threatened to lift the dark cover of night as Matt quietly got ready to go on the wolf hunt. He heard their howls as he sat on the edge of the bed, slipping his weathered boots on yet again. His plan was simple. After he dressed and press-checked his gear, he would creep out of his bedroom, gently open the front door, and slip out without waking a soul. No one offered to help, nor did he ask or care for the assistance. He needed these moments to get away. These “moments” were the only thing keeping his mind intact. Without them, he was quite certain he would fall apart.
As Matt turned the knob on the door, he was greeted with a calmness that only the wilderness after a storm could offer. The air was crisp and clean and cooled his sinuses as he took it all in. The faint glow of the sunrise illuminated the heavily wooded landscape that surrounded the cabin. Snow was everywhere, untouched and pure.
Matt closed the door behind him and stepped out into the wild. It was quiet now, no howl of the wolf pack, no chirping birds, not even the moan of the dead. Just the fresh, crisp morning air, and it was as silent as a catacomb.
Tara and Steve lay chest-to-back in their bedroom. Their bodies were meshed together on top of the worn-out spring mattress with a homemade quilt blanket thrown over the top. Steve traced the curves of her body with his finger, occasionally stopping to circle a sensitive area that left her skin filled with goose pimples.
It had taken Steve a while to pick up on it, that she wanted more than just the flirty banter and the occasional gentle touch. She yearned for him to be hers. She ached to feel him on her and in her. And finally, after a long wait, he had figured it out.
Steve traced the pale flesh of her side. His finger slipped up and down her ribs and down the side of her breast, then down the center of her chest to her swollen belly. The memory of Mesquite was more than just murderous horror. Mesquite had been their first time together. She welcomed him then, and she would welcome him again.
She rolled over and kissed him firmly on the lips. Her hand found his and pushed the tips of his fingers past her belly down to her center. It was a feeling of freedom and release that kept their minds in a warm and welcoming place, away from the despair of their past and the lingering anxiety that always followed. How long could a good thing last, she thought as her body pulsed for him to take her.
Matt listened through the quiet of the waking dawn for any signs of life. However, it seemed he was the only living soul that wandered through the woods that morning. All he could hear was the thumping of his heart and the snow crunch under his steps. Where did you go? Where did your hungry pack go?
The wolves had been howling as he prepared for the morning hunt, but now they sat quiet and dormant somewhere off in the distance, no longer taunting him. No longer calling for him to come chase them. But something did lurk in the shadows; Matt could sense another being. He didn’t know what or where. When he stopped moving, he could smell something gamey.
Matt paused and observed the bright orange glow of the sun as it reflected off the glossy white surface of the ground and blinded him, forcing him to turn his head away and look to his left where a rocky cliffside followed him. It was there he saw it between two trees, partially covered by a large shrub—a sizeable Rocky Mountain elk stood with his head down, sipping water through the half-frozen creek that traced the edge of the cliff.
Thank you, Mr. Elk.
Matt sighted in. He slipped his finger out of the tip of his glove, taking a deep breath. The frosty air bit his finger as he found the trigger. It was cold and numbing, but his focus was on the elk, not the below-freezing temperatures. He released his breath, then held it as he pulled back on the trigger.
Crack.
The single shot echoed throughout the woods, each tree catching and throwing the loud report of his rifle’s blast. The round went high and skimmed the antlers of his game, sending it off in a fearful sprint. He watched the mammal move far and fast.
“Dammit,” Matt muttered while lowering his rifle.
Before he had a chance to move forward and track the elk down, a burning sensation erupted in his leg, followed by a sharp, intense pain—the pressure of teeth as they wrapped around his calf and bit into the meat of his leg down to the bone.
It looked like Matt wasn’t the only one hunting. The wolves had been hunting him.
The alpha yanked and pulled him by the leg as his pack chased down the moving target. Their growls and howls of excitement taunted Matt as he lay facedown, gun and trigger finger buried in the snow.
The wolf was a behemoth, nothing like anything Matt had ever seen before. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, maybe something along the size of the coyotes he used to see in Laguna. But this thing, this beast of a dog, was a monster.
Matt flipped himself over onto his back. His leg was kept in place by the jaws of a monster, causing his waist to twist awkwardly as he reached out and grabbed his rifle. With the alpha still latched on, Matt turned and faced him then pressed down on the trigger as hard and as fast as he could, sending several rounds into the wild animal’s head. The wolf released its grip on Matt and jumped back with a whimper. But that wasn’t enough. The shots only seemed to send the wolf into a fury. Blood mixed with thick strands of saliva poured from the beast’s jowls as it launched itself at Matt’s extended arm, breaking it on contact. The snap of Matt’s forearm echoed in his head, sounding no different than a gunshot.
Matt screamed in agony, then blacked-out as the alpha released its hold on his leg and lunged at his throat.
Steve and Tara lay naked together. Her back was pressed firmly against his chest with little strands of her hair tickling his face. With a gentle breath, Steve blew her auburn hair away, giving Tara goosebumps on the back on her neck and a wide smile on her face. She giggled. He laughed and kissed her cheek. It was in those moments of the night where he could he hold her, love her, and be with her intimately, that Steve was his happiest. The roads and the wild of the wasteland were always his home, but at night with her, he was at peace regardless of where they were. She gave survival a purpose. And now, as she carried their baby, Steve felt complete.
He moved his hand off her breast and let his fingers stroke the soft skin of her ribs down to her belly button, where he placed the palm of his hand. His heart throbbed and thundered in his ears with excitement as he felt the baby move about in the womb. He couldn’t hold back his wide, toothy smile of joy. Tara placed her hand over his, then brought it to her lips and kissed the rough skin of her warrior.
Together they lay in the dark, cold room of the Aspen cabin without disruption, awake in the early hours of dawn before first light. Matt had wandered off into the wilderness. Greg and Jody were asleep in the only other room inside their winter home.
Steve closed his eyes and let his mind drift off, hoping to fall back asleep after being awakened by Tara for some early-morning playt
ime. His breathing eased. His mind at ease with only the image of his love to focus on. Each breath was lighter and more calming then the last. His chest rose and fell as sleep began to set in. But then a loud, distant crack made his eyes shoot open and spun his heart up with nervousness. All hope of sleep was gone.
Tara clenched his hand in shock. His eyes were wide open and he was hyperalert as he awaited a follow-up noise. It wasn’t long before he heard the blood-curdling scream of his brother.
“Shit…Matt,” Steve snapped.
He flung himself out of bed. His feet slammed onto the cold wooden floors of the cabin bedroom with a heavy thump. It rattled the old picture frames still hanging on the walls. Steve was dressed, armed with his AR and out the door before Tara could get her shirt on. The elk head that hung above the bedroom door shifted as he ripped the door open and le it slam into the wall.
The dream state Matt was in was surreal. He no longer felt the painful memories of his life. The tension of two worlds that always pulled him apart was replaced by a pain-free pressure that radiated from a single, unplottable point on his body to every bit of surface area he could fathom. Strange noises floated around him like he was on a sailboat lost at sea. Resounding thwacks mimicked the anger of waves crashing into the side of his boat. He was lost in a giant black hole and found himself only able to float hopelessly through, waiting for whatever lay on the other end.
A voice whispered in a calm tone that pleased him and made him feel at ease with his unpredictable destiny. Maybe it was death he was feeling. If it was death, he welcomed it. He blinked and saw a man hovering over him.
A voice spoke to him in a soothing, positive tone, although the words didn’t make sense. The sound of it was reminiscent of a deep purr that relaxed his heart and mind. Matt wasn’t sure, but he thought it was Steve. However, there was something unfamiliar about this man’s voice and his touch.
He closed his eyes again as more voices approached, no longer sure, no longer relaxed. The world around him blew up in chaos. Nothing made sense as it was all a loud clamor. He felt his body sinking into an abyss of darkness.
I’m dying, he thought. His legs felt warm and wet. At first, he thought it was blood, but then he realized he had pissed himself. Then all the feeling in his body ran out of him onto the snow-packed ground he lay on.
Fuck, I really am dying. I’m sorry, Michael. I’m so, so sorry.
16
A Cold Day in Hell
Bill leaned over his kitchen sink and stared off into the snow-covered mountains that surrounded his ranch. The few trees that sprang off the mountainside were stripped naked of their leaves. Those with needles glistened with snowmelt and icicles. He had built his home from the ground up many years before the plague had first broken out and decimated the world. He stood wondering when his day would come as he sipped a steaming cup of freshly brewed coffee out of his favorite coffee mug.
“Ah,” he sighed. “It’ll be a cold day in hell when those dammed things take this from me.”
From the living room, Cate, his wife of twenty-something years, emerged. She wore a pair of denim overalls with a white V-neck T-shirt underneath. In her hand, she carried a cup of java as well, also in her favorite mug. Her brunette hair draped over her shoulders and bounced with enthusiastic spunk, much like Cate herself.
“Are you in here thinking about those zombies again, my love?” she asked him in her sweet voice. It was the voice of a songbird. A melody with every word.
“You know it, darlin’.”
She knew him well, better than he knew himself. He admired that about her, and she made sure he always knew it.
“Lost that horde just before the snow started up. It wasn’t but a few miles east of here, just hording around like the dead bunch of ghouls they are,” Bill muttered.
“Well, if they’re not knocking on our door, then I don’t see what the big deal is. Let them be. They probably moved farther south for the winter. Let San Diego deal with them.”
Bill chuckled as he took another sip. She walked up behind him and set her cup down, then wrapped her arms around his body, her palms against his heart. “I love you with all my heart. Don’t be an idiot by chasing the dead for no reason other than self-assurance. Do you understand me?”
He didn’t answer, so she smacked him on the chest. “That was a question that requires your immediate response. Do you understand me, my love?”
He turned around in her grasp and looked into her eyes. They glowed green like shiny gems of jade. They were as magnificent as she was.
“Yes, love. I understand.” Then he bent down and kissed her on the forehead. “Now, if you don’t mind, I would very much appreciate it—if I could get your approval, that is—to go track down those damned wolves that have been eating our livestock. I should be back in time for lunch.”
Cate looked up at him with a smirk, released her grip, then disappeared into the room she had come from. “Sure, have at it. Oh, and while you’re out, can you pick me up some salt? We’re getting really low.”
“Sure thing, honey, I’ll just stop by the market and get some,” he mumbled under his breath.
He didn’t need to face her to know she was scowling him from the other room. But by now, she knew to expect a smartass remark from him.
Bill finished off his coffee and placed his mug in the sink. Then he walked toward the front door where his .300-win bolt-action hunting rifle was propped against the wall. He slung on the rifle, grabbed his daypack, and walked outside. He’d heard the wolves howling in the distance not far from his land. A few miles at most, and to the east. He took in a deep gulp of air before walking off to find the wolves.
It didn’t take Bill long to find what he was looking for—a pack of about five wolves. A mother, three cubs, and the alpha. They were grey wolves. Beautiful creatures and under normal circumstances, he would have let them be, but they were killing his livestock, which meant they were killing off his food supply, and that changed the circumstances.
He had tracked the pack for several miles before finally getting to a high point where he could look down and take the predators out with little exposure and the safety of elevation. With his chest in the snow and his rifle propped up on a bi-pod, Bill zoomed in his scope and sighted in on the alpha. But as he went to take his shot, he heard the blast of another rifle.
Bill took his aim off the alpha to find the other shooter. But by the time he did, the alpha had found him first and was giving the man a fight.
“So, that’s what the big fella was hunting,” he whispered. He felt bad for the man being attacked. Not many people had been through those woods in a while, especially during the winter. And it figured the first one he came across would be getting mauled by a wolf pack.
He tried to take a shot but couldn’t get a clear line of sight. The two had fallen behind a tree and covered most of the alpha’s body. He could see the wolf yank and tear at the man. It wasn’t looking good, so Bill slung his gun and ran down to help.
Three gunshots erupted in the air. The wolf howled and whimpered. The man screamed and, in the distance, Bill heard the pack howl back. When he got closer, the wolf leaned over his prey, about to take a chunk out of the man’s neck. Bill fired off a single shot, splitting the alpha’s head in half to drop it dead. Then, he ran over to stop the poor soul from dying alone in the woods.
He dropped his day pack and pulled out a small black bag full of medical supplies. He placed a tourniquet on the leg that twitched in a pool of red snow. He put another tourniquet up high on the man’s clearly broken arm. As he started to splint it, two shadows appeared. One of them fired a single round in his direction, stopping him in his tracks. The bullet snapped into the ground an inch or two away from his body.
Bill raised his arms high, kneeling down in the snow. “I mean your man no harm. I just want to fix him up,” he said calmly.
A woman with a serious face held a rifle at his head as a male approached.
“What are
you doing to my friend?” he barked.
“I’m just helping him out. He got attacked by some wolves I was hunting. I killed one of them. The others fled. I promise you; I mean him no harm.”
The man was tall with a lean body. His eyes were heavy with concern and had dark bags underneath them. Bill considered they must be close friends, possibly even brothers, by the serious nature of the other man’s tone and demeanor. They even held some resemblance to each other. If he had to, Bill could take him. But the woman holding the gun was an entirely different story. Her eyes remained fixed on him as he knelt over the body. Her finger hovered over the trigger, waiting for any sign he was a threat.
Fortunately, the man waved her down. “Go ahead and finish up. How bad is he?”
Bill grabbed the splint and pieced it together gently over the broken bone to stabilize it. He wrapped the brace in place with a roll of tan Ace bandages and a bobby pin. “Pretty bad,” he said as he checked Matt’s body over once more. “Shit, didn’t see this one.”
“See what one?” Steve asked.
“Puncture wounds in his neck. They’re not bleeding anymore. Just going to wrap it with some gauze. You all will need to keep an eye on those bite marks, make sure he doesn’t get an infection. I’ve got some antibiotics at the house. You’ll need them.” Bill looked up after securing the gauze in place. “Do you have somewhere we can put him, get him out of the cold and off the snow? His body temperature is dropping every second he lays here.”
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