Winter Cove

by Skye Knizley

  She started to run after Rylee, who turned and screamed at the sight of the grey giant thudding through the snow.

  “Run! Just run!” River yelled.

  Rylee stopped screaming and drew her pistol. She aimed and emptied it into the creature. River heard it roar in anger with the impacts, but it didn’t slow. Some sixth-sense made her duck just as its makeshift club sizzled through the air where her head had been. She rolled aside and fired the shotgun point-blank into its stomach. The thing roared again and clutched at the brown goo that bled from its side and River fired another round. The giant staggered, but didn’t fall, instead catching himself with his club.

  In that moment, River kipped to her feet and ran. Ahead of her, Rylee was struggling to reload her pistol. Her hands were shaking so badly she dropped the full magazine into the snow at her feet, where she fumbled for it with fingers that didn’t want to work.

  “Just run, dammit!” River yelled.

  Rylee picked up the magazine, rammed it home and opened fire again. River cursed under her breath and looked over her shoulder. The giant was unfazed by the small caliber rounds. It was like trying to stop someone with a swarm of mosquitos; annoying but not much else. If she didn’t do something, the big bastard was going to kill them both.

  He again swung his club and River let her feet slide out beneath her. The piece of steel passed her face so close she could almost taste the rust. Her own eyes were reflected in the chrome and then it was past her, leaving the giant off balance. River raised the shotgun and fired into his face. The steel shot punched through his face, taking teeth and bits of tongue with them. He howled in pain and anger and River stepped closer. She jammed the muzzle of the ten-gauge into his mouth and squeezed the trigger.

  “Eat this, you son of a bitch!”

  The giant’s head exploded, showering River at the surrounding snow with stinking blood and bone. The rest of him stood in place for a moment before toppling over backwards. It crashed in the snow and lay there with one hand twitching. His nails made a strange scrabbling noise in the snow, like an insect trapped in a glass.

  River sank to the ground beside him and covered her ears, but it was too late. The sound triggered something in her brain and she was back in the valley. Her vehicle had just been flipped by an IED and she was trying to free her leg, which was trapped beneath the crushed console. In the seat beside her was what was left of Private Bradley Nichols. His bulk had taken the brunt of the explosion, which had probably saved River’s life. He now hung from his harness, half his face missing. He was still alive, but only just. His left hand was scrabbling against his harness, like a fly trapped in a cup. It was a sound she would never forget.

  River pulled her leg free in a spray of blood and pain that made her scream. She choked on it and pulled herself from the burning wreck onto the scalding desert road. The pavement burned her hands and the bare skin where shrapnel had torn through her armor and clothes, but she didn’t care. People, soldiers, were approaching and firing into the wreckage, making sure everyone was dead. She didn’t have time to bleed. She dragged Brad’s M16 from the vehicle and knelt beside the mangled front bumper. Her thumb caressed the selection switch to full auto and she squeezed the trigger. The rifle screamed in her hands and enemy soldiers dropped beneath the hail of bullets. They writhed in pain, but River didn’t let up until the weapon cycled empty.

  “River? Baby, are you okay?”

  River blinked and looked up at Rylee, who was standing beside her. Unconsciously, River had pointed the shotgun at Rylee’s face and Rylee now stood with her hands up as if she was awaiting arrest. River dropped the weapon like it was on fire and hugged Rylee around the waist.

  “I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry,” she moaned.

  Rylee ran her fingers through River’s hair. “You were there again.”

  River couldn’t answer, she just moaned again and held Rylee tight.

  Rylee knelt beside her. “It’s okay, honey. You saved us like you saved them. It’s going to be okay.”

  ***

  It was some time before River felt able to move on. When she did, she followed Rylee down the abandoned streets until they found something familiar. They stopped at the end of Beach Street and looked at the circle of pavement where the armored Typhoon had waited for them. The asphalt was still so hot that snow evaporated and ran in rivulets to the edge, where it was forming a sort of ice wall made from melted asphalt and ash. They walked around the edge and continued toward Howard’s house. They crept up on it from the east, using alleyways and shadows to stay hidden from any of the sec-men that might be in the area.

  Howard’s mansion was largely as it had been before, save that the front door had been smashed open. The frame was scarred and crushed by what looked like some kind of axe or similar tool.

  The Raptor sat right where they had left it, unmolested. Deep tire tracks from at least three Typhoon vehicles circled the house and headed back the way they had come, north. There was no sign of Howard.

  River looked at Rylee. “Is there any chance I can get you to stay here?”

  Rylee’s face was blank. “What do you think?”

  River tried not to laugh. Instead she hurried out of the alley and took up station beside a snow-covered Datsun. The street beyond was clear, with no sign of movement. She motioned to Rylee, who crossed the street at a run and ducked behind the Raptor, where she had a clean view of the house. River moved past her and onto the porch, which was covered in muddy, snowy boot prints, some of which were easily twice the size of River’s own feet.

  The inside of the house was a mess. Walls had been sliced and crushed and shot, a swath of damage that led from the foyer to the kitchen. Blood spattered the floor and there were marks where at least three bodies had fallen and been dragged away. But there was no sign of Howard.

  “Howie?” Rylee called.

  There was no answer. River left Rylee to finish searching the first floor and moved to the second by way of a narrow spiral staircase at the back of the kitchen. The stairs emptied into a mirror of the corridor below while another staircase led to the third floor and Widow’s Walk.

  The hallway was lined with photographs similar to the ones below. Most showed Howie, Rebecca or both at various places around the island, including next to a sign that said ‘Project Sentinel, Station Onyx.’ In the background were ruins that looked more like they belonged in a South American jungle, not the New England coastline.

  Halfway down were doors, one on either side of the corridor. The right led into a small bedroom suitable for a young girl. The furniture and toys were all antique, dating back to the 1940s at least. Everything was clean, even in the middle of the strange storm.

  River closed the door and moved into the other room, which was the master bedroom. A large bed dominated the room, with two side tables, a tall dresser and a walk-in closet. By the size of the room, River guessed that a third bedroom had been absorbed to make this room more comfortable.

  Beneath the window was an old roll-top desk covered in papers. A fountain pen lay beside an inkwell and a manual typewriter sat on the floor beside the desk, ready for use.

  River sat at the desk, not surprised that the topmost sheet of paper said ‘River and Rylee, 3:14 a.m. Lindquist 3:40 a.m.’

  “He really did know we were coming,” River muttered.

  Beneath that note were others, most in the same curling handwriting that River recognized as Howard’s. It looked as if he was trying to understand what was happening by making copious notes about it. There were pages that detailed the snowfalls and when the lightning first turned green, he’d even drawn one of the strange funnels with charcoal.

  In the middle of the pile was an envelope addressed to Ms. and Mrs. Hunter. River raised her eyebrows at the title and tore it open. Inside was another sketch, this one done in smudged pencil. It depicted a wide door made of metal set in
a heavy frame. In the upper right corner was the Sentynil ‘S’ symbol, in the middle were the words ‘B12 Clearance Personnel Only’.

  Howard had written a series of numbers beneath the drawing and circled them. River had no idea what the drawing or numbers meant, she’d never heard of B12 clearance, but Howard hadn’t steered them wrong thus far. She refolded the image and stuck it inside her jacket pocket as she returned to the first floor. It was clear whatever had happened to Howard, he was no longer inside the house.

  She found Rylee in the front parlor where she was looking at a scrapbook.

  “Hey hoochie,” Rylee said without turning.

  River tried not to laugh. Teasing let her know Rylee was coping. “Hey love. What’s with the scrapbook, did you decide to settle down and go native?”

  Rylee held up a note written in what looked like blood. “Howie says that survivors are being taken to Ravenstein and he would appreciate it if we could come get him. He also says to avoid the lake until after we go to Ravenstein.”

  River looked at the note then added it to the growing collection in her pockets. “How does he know these things?”

  Rylee held up the scrap book. “Howie is more than he appears. This book is full of predictions followed by newspaper clippings. Either he is one hell of a fraud or the real deal.”

  “Most days I would say fraud, but considering what we’ve seen so far, I lean toward real deal.”

  Rylee put the book back on the table. “Agreed. So what, now? Do we take his lead and head out to Ravenstein or go to the lake?”

  River paced the length of the room and tried to think. She was tired, adrenaline fatigue and the late hour was beginning to get to her, but she’d been through worse.

  “The Typhoon that we think had Jody and Richie in it didn’t go toward the lake. It went the other direction. When we found the information about the lake, I assumed that they went a different way, but maybe he’s right and they were taken to Ravenstein. I think we should trust Howie,” she said after a moment.

  “That makes sense. At first I thought he was a nut, but he saved our lives twice. I say we give it a shot,” Rylee said.

  They took a moment to refresh themselves and make cups of coffee to keep them warm and alert, then returned to the truck. It was undamaged, though River could tell it had been searched. The duffel bag in back was zipped closed, and she knew she’d left it open for easy access to the shotgun shells within. She unzipped it and again loaded the shotgun. When she was through, she made a quick search of the cabin, looking for any listening or camera devices.

  Rylee leaned back in her seat and sipped her coffee. “What are you doing, love?”

  River held a finger to her lips. “Reloading the shotgun. We’ll be good to go in a sec.”

  Rylee made a face, but nodded her agreement. River continued her search and found what she was looking for inside the center console. A small tracking/listening device had been hidden beneath the rubber mat at the bottom of the compartment. River plucked it out and showed it to Rylee, who mouthed the words, “fucking assholes.”

  River tossed the device into the snow then started the truck and drove away from the house.

  “Was that a−”

  “Bug,” River confirmed. “Military grade with a GPS tracker.”

  “So they’re still looking for us. Swell.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  The road that led to Ravenstein Army Air Base was well travelled, with deep ruts left by the passage of several Typhoon-size vehicles. At the earliest opportunity, River pulled off onto a logging trail and followed it deeper into the stygian forest, using her innate sense of direction and the truck’s onboard GPS to ensure they continued going in the right direction.

  As they continued deeper into the forest, the snow and dark began to wear on River. She imagined faceless things looming at them out of the blackness and thought she heard the crying of a small child somewhere not far away. When she drove toward the sound it moved away, always just at the edge of her hearing. She gripped the steering wheel so tight her knuckles shown through the skin and sweat beaded on her forehead.

  “Honey? Are you okay?” Rylee asked. “You’re hugging that wheel like it’s the last shot of tequila in Mexico.”

  River gave a weak smile. “Yeah, just tired. When this is over, I am going to sleep for a month.”

  Rylee scooted over until her thigh was touching River’s. “Just sleep?”

  River kissed the side of her head. “With some extracurricular activities to keep my blood pumping.”

  Rylee turned and leaned against River. She was quiet for several minutes, then, “Riv, do you really think we’ll find them?”

  River thought for a moment. The odds were against them, Sentynil had armed men, vehicles and who knew what else. All they had was a supped-up truck, a pair of pistols and a shotgun. It would make the basis for a pretty decent movie, but this wasn’t one.

  “Find them, yes. Get us all out alive? I can only hope,” she said at last.

  Rylee shifted in her seat and faced River. “Do you think we should go back?”

  River looked at her. Her eyes were big and there were tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. And even then she was beautiful.

  “No,” River said. “I think we should see what we’re up against and try. If we can’t, we’ll get the hell out of here and contact the authorities.”

  She looked back at the road. “Do you want to go back?”

  “No.” Rylee turned and leaned back into her seat.

  “No,” she repeated. “I don’t want you to die.”

  River slowed and turned to face Rylee. “I’m not going to die on you, honey. I didn’t in Iraq, I didn’t in Afghanistan. I am certainly not going to check out on a rock in Maine.”

  “Look out!” Rylee yelled.

  River turned the wheel just in time to avoid sending the Raptor plunging off a narrow ledge and into the valley below. The truck fishtailed in the deep snow and came to rest against an old signpost. The impact caused the snow covering the sign to fall onto the Raptor’s hood with a dull metallic noise.

  “Are you all right?”

  Rylee nodded and pointed at the sign. “Yeah. Look what we found.”

  The sign was grey with faded blue lettering that read, ‘Sentinel: Research Station Obsidian’.

  River backed the truck away from the sign and got out. The snow was up to her knees and walking was difficult, but she fought her way through until she reached the sign and could wipe away the rest of the snow. A blue arrow pointed at a trail that was now almost invisible thanks to time and weather.

  River looked back at Rylee. “Grab your gear, let’s find out what the hell is going on.”

  ***

  They found Obsidian Station just a few hundred yards from the logging road. It consisted of a pair of metal doors set in the side of the cliff face and a hatch similar in size to a fuse panel. The words ‘Entry Forbidden to all but B12 Personnel’ were painted across the doors in faded white paint, the smaller panel had a substantial-looking padlock on the outside. It was, however, rusted and gave way after River kicked it with the heel of her boot. She tossed the lock away and pried open the panel with her knife.

  Lights came to life inside the panel, followed by an 80s-era digital panel that glowed red in the pitch night. River tapped the panel with her fingernail and looked at Rylee.

  “It wants a passcode.”

  Rylee ducked under River’s arm and inspected the panel. “Can you short-circuit it like you did the other one?”

  River popped a piece of gum into her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “It’s a different thing entirely, back in the day each key punch was like a number on a combination lock. Get the numbers wrong and it won’t open. Interrupt the power and it fails in the locked position.”

  She jammed her knife into the side o
f the panel and worked it back and forth until the face popped off with a squeal of metal. It dangled by a spaghetti-like mass of wires that sparked and fizzed. River looked at them and chewed her gum. After a moment she pulled out two more sticks and handed them to Rylee.

  “You know I hate mint,” Rylee said.

  “You don’t have to chew them, just unwrap them.”

  River fished the other foil wrapper out of her pocket and smoothed it on her jeans. Rylee handed her the second two and she repeated the motion until she had three smooth sheets of foil.

  “Little known fact,” she said as she worked. “Foil wrappers are actually made of real foil with a waxed-paper backing. Get it smooth enough and you have a thin aluminum plate.”

  “Thanks for the science lesson, Rivalicious, what does that have to do with Captain Sparky there?”

  River stuck the strips of aluminum together with the gum she’d been chewing on, making a long thin sheet. “Aluminum is moderately conductive, even when it is this thin. A current strong enough to pass through the foil will also torch the paper, but if we’re lucky…”

  She squinted to protect her eyes and ran the foil strip across the back of the panel. The face erupted with flashing error messages and the foil burst into flames, causing the insulation inside the panel to smolder.

  Beside them, the doors began to roll open with a slow grinding noise that shook rock and snow from the cliff above. As soon as the gap was wide enough, Rylee dashed through. River tossed a handful of snow on the fire and followed.

  Beyond the doors was a wide corridor cut from the native stone. The floor was poured concrete scarred by the passage of people. Lights not used in two decades flickered to life, casting shadows that hid more than they illuminated. Boxes and old cartons, all marked with the original Sentinel logo sat on pallets around the corridor, which vanished around s not too distant corner.