Winter Cove

by Skye Knizley

  River felt her heart jump into her throat. She swallowed and returned to her seat. One of the men put zip-ties around her wrists and tied her to the bar placed behind the seat. When he was satisfied she was secure, he grabbed the one River had injured and dragged him to the back of the vehicle. He pressed a button beside the door and threw the body into the street behind, where it was ground under the wheels of another Typhoon. His intent was clear; to show River what would happen to Rylee if she made another move. He slammed the door and returned to his seat as if nothing had happened.

  “Let’s not do that again, yeah?” Rylee said.

  River kissed the side of her head and held her close. “I won’t. Not yet, anyway.”

  ***

  It seemed like hours before the Typhoon slowed and stopped. The overhead light switched from white to red and the sec-men stood. One opened the door while the rest grabbed River and Rylee. They stepped out into a circle of light cast by a spotlight held by a guard atop a tower that looked like it fell out of a World War II movie. Not far away was a wide, squat building made of concrete painted with white and black camouflage that looked fresh. It had a single door similar those they’d seen with in Station Obsidian, heavy reinforced steel blast doors.

  On the other side of the compound were more of the same, all guarded by four of the heavily armed black-uniformed sec-men. Beyond them lay the original WWII Quonset huts, buildings and runways, all modified and updated to modern standards.

  The wind had picked up and was blowing snow that curled around their boots. River ignored the cold and pain in her ankle and looked at the man standing across from them. He was tall, a shade over six feet with a narrow waist and trim shoulders that made him look a lot like Clint Eastwood, a look he’d accentuated with a squint and a thin cheroot clenched in his teeth. He tossed the cigar aside and stepped so close, River could smell the cheap tobacco on his breath.

  “Ms. Hunter, late of the United States Marines, yes?”

  “Are you Lindquist?” River asked.

  “Yes, and it’s Mr. Lindqui−”

  River’s fist connected with his jaw and he fell to the ground. River ignored the weapons the sec-men leveled at her and looked down at him, her fists itching to feel his face pulp beneath them.

  “If you ever hit my wife again, the last thing you will see is my face when I kill you. Am I understood?” she growled.

  Lindquist spat out a tooth and waved the guards away as he stood up.

  “Your file didn’t indicate you were insubordinate. According to the Marines you were a model soldier,” he said.

  River continued to watch him, her fists ready. “You got two things wrong, bub. One, my file is sealed and I doubt you have that kind of juice. Whatever you know, you found with a quick internet search. Second, Marines aren’t soldiers, we’re Marines. What do you want with us?”

  Lindquist rubbed his jaw and River could tell by the way he was standing that he wanted to hit her back, but was restraining himself.

  “My orders are to bring you in, and I follow my orders,” he said. He turned to one of the sec-men. “Take them to holding area gamma. See they’re fed and keep an eye on Hunter.”

  He started away, then paused. “Hunter, you get that one for free. I was out of line when I slapped Rylee. Do it again and I will see your guts on a pike.”

  He walked through the door in the building and disappeared. When he was gone, the sec-men took River and Rylee by the arm and drag-guided them across the compound to a building with a blue letter G painted on the side. The door was opened with a simple code and they were shoved through. The door closed behind them leaving them in what could only be called a room because it was a hair too small to be an aircraft hangar. Dozens of cots had been arranged throughout the room, each with a single white pillow and folded grey blanket. Only a handful of the cots were occupied by people sitting in small groups. They looked up when the doors opened, but didn’t move. They simply watched with the same glassy-eyed stare of frightened animals.

  Rylee waved. “Hi, um…what’s for breakfast?”

  ***

  The people, River learned, were from Winter Cove. They’d been taken in their sleep in small groups and awakened in the holding cell. So far they’d been given food and water, medical supplies and reading material, but no one had spoken. Anyone who showed signs of illness, even a cough or sneeze, was taken away by the faceless guards and none yet had returned.

  The leader of the small band of detainees was Sylvester Shaw, the owner of the Winter Cove General Store. He, his wife and their daughter were the first to awaken. The rest of the group included two teachers from the high school, a dentist, the switchboard operator and the crew of the Black Tide, a fishing boat that plied the waters outside Winter Cove. In the time they had been there, more than a dozen townspeople had been taken to God knew where and not returned.

  “Do you know what is going on?” Shaw asked once introductions were made.

  “Not a clue,” River said. “My wife and I were on our honeymoon with friends when the weird stuff started to happen. We’re just trying to find our friends and get us all out of here.”

  Shaw’s face was blank. “Wife?”

  Rylee put her arm around River’s waist. “Yeah, wife. We aren’t sisters, she’s my lover and partner. Is there a problem?”

  Shaw straightened. “I did not mean to offend, it is just…unusual. What are your friend’s names?”

  “Jody Wright and Richie Bryner. Jody has dark skin and hair I would kill for, Richie is pale and dressed like a preppy redneck with a gut wound,” River said.

  Shaw’s wife Lori shook her head. “I’m sorry, no. If your friend was injured, they would have taken him to the infirmary and we haven’t seen any dark skinned women at all.”

  “Shit,” Rylee muttered. She folded her arms and started pacing. “Okay, so where is this infirmary?”

  “We don’t know. Somewhere out there, but we don’t even know where here is,” Shaw said.

  “Ravenstein Airfield, in the mountains northwest of the town. Does that help?” River said.

  Shaw’s brows knit and he looked puzzled. “Ravenstein was closed years ago, the whole area is dangerous. There was a sink-hole or some such back in the 80s.”

  “Not so much, pops. Somebody sold you a barrel of monkeys and you bought it. Ravenstein is alive and well and crawling with those faceless bastards,” Rylee said.

  Just then, the doors opened and six of the aforementioned faceless bastards entered, three pushing carts laden with what looked, to River, like military rations. Not the kind she carried in the field that most called Meals Ready to Hurl, but the kind served at base camp. Runny oatmeal, hash-browns, rolls and an assortment of breakfast meats filled the tureens and platters. It was more food than the handful of detainees could possibly eat.

  “That’s a lot of chow, are we expecting others?” River asked.

  The lead guard leveled his MP7 at her. “Stand fast until we depart.”

  River raised her hands. “Take it easy, panhead. I was just asking a question.”

  From the corner of her eye, she observed the activity outside. The four guards outside were still in place and the snow was falling so heavily they couldn’t keep it off their helmets. More guards were working in the compound, servicing the Typhoons, shoveling snow or otherwise maintaining the remote base.

  Beyond the quadrangle she spotted what must be the infirmary. It was another of the concrete huts, no different in overt appearance than the others save the red cross painted on the reinforced doors.

  The strangest sight, however, was the lack of morning sun. It was as dark outside as it had been at midnight, if not even more so, yet her body told her it was early morning, close to six.

  She turned her attention back to the guard. “So, when do we get to see our friends?”

  “Irrelevant. You
will be held until Control decides you are neither a biohazard or a threat to Sentynil,” he said.

  “What do you mean ‘biohazard’?” Rylee asked, joining River.

  “Infected or otherwise contagious,” the guard replied.

  His mechanical voice was beginning to get on River’s nerves. “Can you lose the helmet? You all sound like you’re talking from the bottom of a toilet.”

  “Enjoy your breakfast.”

  The guards turned away and the doors closed with a thud that sounded absolute. Rylee looked at them then moved to the food, which she examined with a critical eye.

  “They could have at least gotten the bacon crispy,” she groused.

  “Be careful of the food,” Shaw said.

  River glanced at him then back at the food. “Poisoned?”

  “Infected,” Lori said. “Each time we eat, one of us gets sick and is taken away.”

  “Is that possible, Rye?”

  Rylee shrugged. “I suppose they could, it depends on the pathogen. Most viruses can’t survive for very long out in the open, I would think the act of pushing the food through sub-zero temperatures would kill anything typical.”

  “How do you know?” Lucas, one of the teachers asked.

  “My wife is a nurse, she works in a trauma center,” River said. “She knows her shit.”

  Lucas harrumphed. “Really? I am a professor of biology and−”

  “I’m not getting into a pissing contest with you, Lucas. I answered the question,” Rylee said.

  “Incorrectly,” Lucas muttered.

  River ignored him. “What have you been doing with the food?”

  “We each only eat from one container to limit our exposure−”

  “In case only some of it is contaminated,” River finished.

  “It makes sense, Riv,” Rylee said. “As much as anything.”

  River remembered the strange insect she’d seen crawling on one of the victims and shook her head. “I don’t think it is contracted that way. I think it is born by insects. Have any of you seen any bugs, about the size of a nickel?”

  Shaw’s face was blank. “It’s the dead of winter, even the mosquitos are gone.”

  River looked at them each in turn. “So that’s a no?”

  Lucas raised his hand. “I saw one. It was crawling on my window the night they took us away. Sort of a cross between a cricket and a spider. Is that what you mean?”

  “Yes. I saw one crawl out of one of the victims. I think that is how the…whatever it is, is spread,” River said.

  Lucas leaned on a pole and folded his arms. “Insects are generally clean creatures, however many species have been known to transmit diseases, most notably ectoparasites like mosquitos−”

  He paused as if he was having difficulty swallowing, then clutched at his throat and collapsed to the floor. Everyone nearby moved away, with some covering their mouths as if that would prevent contagion.

  Rylee was at his side in an instant. She rolled him onto his back and titled his head.

  “He’s not breathing! River, help me out here!”

  River took her arm and tried to pull her away. “Get back, honey, leave him.”

  Rylee shook her off. “Have you lost your shit? This man is dying!”

  River’s response was cut off by the doors opening. Three of the sec-men entered with a man in a white lab coat. He had a shock of white hair above a pale face and eyes that showed no emotion. His nose and mouth was covered with a respirator that made him look like a Star Wars villain.

  “Back away!” one of the guards barked.

  River took Rylee’s hand and helped her stand.

  “He’s dying, are you a doctor?” Rylee snapped.

  The white-haired man barely glanced at her. “Correction, Mrs. Hunter, he’s already dead. He was dead the moment the Overlord got into his bloodstream.”

  He knelt beside Lucas and took a sample of blood and a swab from his eyes then backed away. “Destroy it.”

  “You can’t just burn him like trash!” Shaw yelled.

  The doctor arched an eyebrow. “Mr. Shaw, that is exactly what we’re going to do. His blood can spread the biohazard and that is something we cannot risk.”

  Two of the guards hefted his body and dragged him away while the remaining sec-man covered the detainees and escorted the doctor back into the storm.

  The doctor paused in the doorway and looked back. “I’m sorry for this, truly. But it is for the best.”

  The door closed behind him, leaving the survivors in stunned silence.

  Lori was the first to move. She filled a plate with food and sank onto her cot, a dejected look on her face.

  “Honey, we shouldn’t−”

  “We’re all going to die out here! It may as well be on a full stomach, and I’m hungry.”

  She bit into a piece of bacon as if it had offended her and chewed, staring at nothing. One by one, the others joined her, leaving River and Rylee to watch. Rylee shrugged and, when the last of the others had filled a plate, began to fill two more.

  “Are you sure?” River asked.

  Rylee didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m not dying hungry, Riv.”

  “We aren’t dying at all, honey,” River said.

  Rylee looked at her. “Really? It looks pretty fucking bleak to me! We just watched a man die and they carted him off like the evening trash at Taco Bell. They didn’t even try to save him. Dozens if not hundreds of others are already ashes, what are we going to do, chew our way through two feet of concrete?”

  She snatched up a plate and moved to a pair of clean bunks in the corner. She pushed them together and flopped onto one. River sat beside her, but knew better than to touch her. Instead, she took a piece of bacon and nibbled the edge. It tasted like not-quite-done bacon. Rylee took another and bit into it.

  “How are we going to get out of here?” she asked.

  “I’m working on a plan. I will get us out of here and we will find the others, I swear.”

  “I believe you, baby. But what if we have the illness? I don’t want to be one of those things!”

  She sounded so miserable, River couldn’t help but hug her. “We don’t and you won’t. I’ll put a bullet in us both if it comes to it. But it isn’t. We’re going to get out of here and we’re going to see the sun rise over our house again.”

  Rylee laid her head on River’s shoulder. “How did it even come to this? Zombies? Parasites? Weird secret bases beneath the earth? This is a hell of a honeymoon.”

  “I don’t know,” River said. “Until tonight I didn’t think things like this could happen. But here we are, living in our very own B horror movie.”

  She smiled and bumped Rylee with her shoulder. “I’ve seen your movie collection, I thought you liked this stuff.”

  Rylee snorted. “Yeah, when I can huddle beneath a blanket with you and throw popcorn at the stupid people on the screen. Not so much when the zombies and crazy scientists are real and trying to kill us.”

  River kissed her. “It’s going to be okay. We aren’t stupid people on the screen, we’re going to get out of this.”

  Rylee kissed her back and they fell onto the cot, a flood of emotion and exhaustion becoming sudden desire. Their forgotten plates fell to the floor with a clatter and River buried her face in the crook of Rylee’s neck. Though they’d been through hell, she still smelled like candy.

  “That’s inappropriate, ladies,” Shaw said from somewhere nearby.

  River rolled onto her back and Rylee sat up. “Really? Why, because we’re lesbians? Listen, dude, love is love, it’s the 21st−”

  “Because there are children present,” Shaw interrupted. “I couldn’t care less you’re lesbians, this is an open room, hardly the place for lovemaking.”

  Rylee gaped at him and River could see her ears
turning pink.

  “You’re right, Mr. Shaw,” River said. She straightened and gave the others an embarrassed wave. “Our apologies, we got caught up in the moment, it is still technically our honeymoon.”

  The other teacher, a young woman named Grace ‘call me Gracie, everyone does,’ waved back. “Er…congratulations on your nuptials. I hope we live long enough for you to enjoy it.”

  Rylee pulled herself together and looked up at Shaw. “I’m sorry, Mr. Shaw. That was rude of us. Of me. I just assumed you were, you know, a jerk.”

  Shaw smiled. “Believe me, I understand. Perhaps you are right and we’ll get out of this. If we do, you’ll always be welcome in Winter Cove.”

  He returned to the others and River began gathering the food they’d dropped. She tossed it into the garbage and noticed the bathrooms at the back of the room. She’d assumed they must have them, otherwise guards would have to escort them on bathroom breaks, which was a hazard. She crossed the room, conscious of all eyes on her, and entered the ladies’.

  It was a typical restroom with a row of stalls down one wall, a vanity and three sinks on the other. There was a barred window in the far wall above a narrow table, a fixture of most ladies’ rooms since the nineties. She boosted herself onto the table and checked the window. It was possible, just, to open the window, but it was stopped by the bars. Even if she had a way to remove them, it was doubtful she could squeeze her frame through the window.

  She closed it again and leaned against the wall. There was a drain in the floor far too small for anything but a rat, a wide mirror and the stalls. The stalls… She pushed open the first door and smiled to herself. They were on an old Airforce base, after all.

  It took some time to work the airline-style toilet free, but it came loose under her stubborn pressure and she pushed it aside. Beneath was as she’d expected. Though the building was modern, it had been built on top of something that had been there since the 40s. Like most corporations, they’d cut corners when the new building was put in and instead of running an expensive plumbing system inside a holding pen they’d never expected to use, they’d simply re-used the original latrine pit. The smell rising from the hole was dreadful, but if it got her outside, which it must eventually, she was willing to brave the stench. But that wasn’t exactly plan A.