Hereafter

by C. K. Crigger

  “You’re going to be sorry about this,” she warned the pup, hauling the door open against the iced sill. A gust of frigid air took her breath away. Turning her back to the wind, she tied one end of the rope to the door handle, and held the rest of the coil in her hand. Not that she planned on getting lost only steps away from the camper, but with visibility almost non-existent, she was darned if she’d let herself lose her only shelter.

  Shaking the idea away, she stepped off the back of the wagon, promptly sinking to her waist in a drift. Stomping snow, she broke trail for the dog. An eerie feeling, as though she heard her grandfather speaking, reminded her that she depended on the animals and they would need water. Impossible. She hadn’t the heat source to melt any. The supply of wood stored under the wagon bed had dwindled to practically nothing already.

  The pup plunged along beside her, burying himself at first in the powdery snow, then leaping upward onto bare ground where the wind had cleared a short stretch. He barked, black eyes shining with delight, and squatted.

  “Silly baby,” Lily muttered, her words puffing into the frigid air.

  A chiming of the bells attached to the horses’ halters with the idea they’d guard against Mags, led her to where the trio had taken refuge from the wind behind the camper. They stood, ghostly shapes with snow frosting their backs, icicles hanging from their lips and nostrils. The biggest gelding stamped and whickered miserably at her approach.

  The only shelter for her stock was the wagon, and it wasn’t helping much. Snow blew in around the wheels caking the animals’ legs before sweeping over the rounded camper top in a tornado-like whirl. Last night, she’d seen a thick band of trees a long arrow-shot to the south, and deliberately stopped short, thinking it better to face either Mags or African lions in the open where she could see them. A mistake, she realized now. There would be a creek over there, and a windbreak. Nate had seen to it her route followed water.

  But though she squinted through narrowed eyes against the icy prickle of blowing snow, the trees were indiscernible. Visibility stopped just beyond the camper.

  Lily brushed a blanket of snow from the first horse’s back. Try as she might, she felt no warmth coming through his skin, but only a few rippling tremors. The others were in like condition. They’d soon die at this rate, and then where would she be? Stuck in the middle of a howling wilderness, that’s where. Providing she made it through the storm.

  “This isn’t going to work, is it?” she crooned to the wretched beast. “I’ve got to get you fellows out of the wind and find water.” Dark eyes dull, the leader blinked through a crust of ice.

  Slowly, wincing from the need, Lily removed the glove from her left hand. The flick of her fingers was slowed by cold, but enough to bring up a flare of witch light. Her arm extended, she peered into the fog beyond the glow. Was that dark blur the trees, or only a figment of her imagination?

  The little dog gamboled between her feet, apparently impervious to the weather, but entranced by the light. The blanketing snow muffled his sharp yap.

  Behind her, one of the horses stumbled against the other. Both grunted. Long hours in the cold had drained their strength. She needed to get them to safety—and make it quick.

  Letting the light die, Lily bent and fumbled the hobbles loose. Only then did she slide her almost frozen hand back in the glove.Good Lord, she could barely feel her fingers!

  Using the rope looped around her wrist, the wind pushing at her, she pulled herself back to the camper door. The puppy scooting ahead, she scrambled inside where she put down his food and water, preparing to leave him behind. Three horses were enough to contend with. She didn’t need another animal depending on her.

  Although the interior of the camper had seemed freezing earlier, now it felt warm. From here, even the bells sounded less intrusive, more comforting. She had an almost overwhelming desire to curl up on the cot and cover her head.

  ***

  At one point Lily imagined she was carrying the horses on her back, they were that heavy. Alternately yanking the lead ropes, then vocally urging them on, her voice grew raspy in the cold. The animals’ steps were plodding, barely lifting from the ground, getting stuck in even small drifts, forcing her to break trail.

  Wind-blown snow muffled ordinary sounds. The small troop had gone, at Lily’s best estimate, no more than a hundred yards before she lost the sound of bells chiming at the wagon. The pup, locked in the camper by himself, howled piteously at first, a noise that lasted another dozen or so strides and then faded.

  Lily blundered on, praying she was still headed in the right direction. Praying she could find her way back to the camper. Periodically she removed her glove and made witch light, casting the glow ahead. Each time, the cold drew warmth from her fingers, until they became like nubs of blue ice.

  Plunging through tall drifts used every bit of breath she had, until her lungs, seared by frigid air, felt like bloodied rags in her chest. The wound in her leg pulsed in pain, until at last she couldn’t feel it as a separate entity anymore. Just a burning, but one of severe cold rather than fire.

  Three times she fell, pulled herself up by the lead ropes under the miserable horses’ noses, and forced them all to go on. As her energy waned, each instance became more difficult. The next time, she believed, might well be her last.

  And yet, when she slipped and tumbled again, some indomitable strength made her lift her head and summon light one more time. There…there was something. A dark blur. Lily rubbed her eyes on her coat sleeve.

  Yes. It was still there, and as though the wind paused for just a second in encouragement, she glimpsed the ragged edges and pointed tops of trees nearby.

  “Hallelujah!” Pushing to her feet, Lily yelled at the gelding, startling him into shaking his massive head. “C’mon, horse. We’re getting there. Don’t you poop out on me now. Hihihi. C’mon.”

  Obedient to her chivying, the animals hopped toward the blur, dragging her along. They reached the trees less than a minute later. Abruptly, the wind cut off, allowing the gurgle of a nearby creek to reach their ears. At least Lily heard the rush of water, the horses may have smelled it. Lunging forward, their hooves pushed through a ragged rim of ice at the water’s edge. Like greedy children, they stuffed noses into the icy torrent, snuffling with pleasure.

  Lily, licking her own cold and dry lips, didn’t blame them a bit. Blundering over to a snow-topped stump, she brushed it bare and sat. Legs as flaccid as cooked noodles could no longer bear weight. Breath burning, her heart pounded.

  Though it seemed serene here, out of the wind’s full force, she knew the apparent safety could be deceptive. Good enough for horses, as she saw one go from slurping water to pawing through the snow. With a snort, he reached the dry grass underneath the crust and began grazing, already more content.

  One mission accomplished, anyway.

  Troubling her own peace of mind, Lily recalled Nate’s map with the hive of Mags hidden in this area clearly marked. Stick of graphite in hand, he’d drawn a heavy circle around the place, warning her to stay well away.

  “Hurry through this part early in the morning.” Mags didn’t stir much then, he told her, recommending she camp north of here. Good advice, if only a lion hadn’t already occupied the site.

  And now? God knows where the Mags were. God knows where she was, when you came right down to it, or when she’d be able to move on. But putting all other considerations aside, she thought, lifting her weary head and peering out at the blank wall of falling snow beyond the trees, she had to find the camper again.

  Slowly, fatigue dragging at her heels like concrete overshoes, she stood up. If she didn’t start now, that might never happen.

  To Lily’s relief, backtracking herself proved a snap—at first. Between the three horses and herself they’d cut a fairly wide swath on the way over, so she made fast progress returning along the beaten trail, even trotting a little to help keep warm. But then she reached a place where her tracks were already par
tially filled, and within moments the last of them disappeared. Carrying on, she went another ten strides, then ten more. Now her feet dragged.

  Floundering, she stopped. Wind buffeted her. Frozen shards of snow struck like BBs at her face where it was exposed, pinging against the skin with tiny buzzes of sound. The towel wrapped around her neck only partially covered her chin and cheeks.

  Frostbite. She couldn’t feel her nose. Couldn’t feel her lips, either, not even when she bit down on her lower one.

  Her heartbeat quickened. People died in blizzards. They always had. Would she be next? No. She damn well would not. Not as long as the camper turned up soon.

  Think, Lily!

  Scared, she jeered at herself, trying to remain calm and ignore the way her heart clattered in her breast. Tough old Border Patrol agent like you, and you’re scared?

  Damn straight, she was.

  Think.

  When she came to the place where the hoof marks had begun filling in, she was fine, her feet pointed in the right direction. She stayed on track then, that much was fact. And even as the trail petered out, she kept going the same way. What made her think so? Because the wind had been blowing into her left eye when she started out. Since then, she’d been holding it almost closed—a form of protection. And still was.

  So keep going. It was all she knew to do.

  The way grew harder. Lily bent into the wind until at times she was nearly swimming over the tallest of the drifts.

  Lord, she was cold. So cold. Mindless, unthinking now, she fought on.

  And then she slipped and fell, outstretched hands too numb to catch herself. Air whooshed out of her lungs as she belly-flopped onto the frozen earth. Head jolting, she was barely aware of colliding with a snow-covered stone. Vision blurred, she lay stunned.

  After a while, it occurred to her how good it felt to just lie there relaxed, resting her tired bones. If only the little voice yammering in the back of her mind about how she had to get up and go on would shut up. What was the big deal, anyway?

  The wind passed above her prone body, no longer buffeting her back and forth like a straw dummy. Those heavy gusts must’ve been the reason she felt so cold earlier, but now she was warming up nicely. Too nicely, in fact.

  She loosened the muffler around her throat. Keep this up and she’d need to take off her jacket.

  No. She must not do that. Someone had said… She couldn’t remember what, or even who “he” was. They’d been discussing storms, she knew that. More precisely, blizzards. And dying. Most of the time she thought the man’s voice belonged to her grandpa, other times, to Nate.

  Nate was smart about weather. A regular weather wizard. A small chuckle gurgled in the back of her throat. Weather wizard, get it? One of the ilk the O’Quinn professed to hate so much, even though half of them were well on their way to becoming the very thing they detested so much. Bunch of damn hypocrites!

  This time Lily snorted, which, along with the sudden flare of ire, roused her into rolling over.

  What had she been thinking? Oh, yes. Hot.

  Or…no, she wasn’t. Not hot at all. Some part of her recognized the sensation as an illusion along the same lines as cloaking herself in invisibility. Only in this case, unlike the cloaking, the illusion could be lethal.

  “As the victim nears the end,” that someone had said, “the body shuts down. Goes numb. He gets sleepy. Imagines things.” He’d laughed. “Get like that you’d better start ringing your own wake-up bell, ‘cause if you give in to it, that’s all she wrote.”

  Who had said that? Didn’t seem like Grandpa, after all, and not Nate, either. They hadn’t had time together for conversation to flow so widely between them. Good grief! Had it been that slimy buzzard Lopez, her Border Patrol boss? Not that it mattered. She yawned, but with her mouth clamped shut, it wasn’t very satisfactory.

  Bells ringing.

  The sound of the telephone wrenched Lily a little way back to consciousness, maybe because the musical, though somewhat tinny notes were so welcome. Wahoo, she thought, her mind blurred like smeared ink, she was back in civilization where she belonged and where cell phones worked properly.

  Not really aware, her hand groped toward the pocket of her coat. ‘Wake up, Lily. Wake up. This is an important call.’

  The bell chimed again, louder this time.

  ‘Hello,’ she heard herself saying. ‘Hello.’ And then that inner voice came again. ‘Wake up, Lily!’

  Gotta do it, she thought. Gotta do it. Something is wrong.

  She stirred, rolled up onto hands and knees and rocked forward. Not hot. She was cold. So awfully cold.

  But from out of the gusting winds she heard bells again. Not the telephone, she realized suddenly, but Nate’s anti-Mag device around the camper.

  What had she been thinking?

  She turned her face into the driving snow once more. Safety lay only a short distance farther along. All she had to do was follow the sound, if only her sluggish body would respond. Slowly, stiffly, forcing numb feet and muscles to work, like a Phoenix born of ashes, she staggered upright.

  The wind gusted once, twice more, before abruptly dying. The bells went silent.

  It was almost as if the world had ended yet again, though without the pain or crash of thunder of the last time—or so the thought flashed through Lily’s mind. The meaning of the sudden silence seemed clear. The owner of this universe was trying to tell her to let the cold win this battle. Death should be easy and final. No more resurrections into a dreary, distant world where everything she thought she knew turned out skewed. Humanity. Time. Magic. Even love. No man had ever gotten close to her heart like Nate had in these last few days.

  A shock went through her. They hadn’t even slept together. Their only kiss had been interrupted. How could she trust the warmth that infused her at the mere recalling of his touch?

  Warmth. Nate. Oh, Nate.

  The last thing he said to her after Jacob walked in on them was that he’d meet her at her grandparents’ old place. “Wait for me there,” he said. “I’ll catch up with you before winter sets in.”

  She believed him, trusted him. Hard telling why since it could’ve been just a line to get her out of his hair. But somehow—

  Lily surfaced to discover herself plunging through a drift, headed in a straight line toward the camper whose rounded top she was finally able to pick out of the fog of snow. The realization of what instinct and superlative hearing had been telling her for the last few minutes while she dreamed of Nate struck. No bells, although they’d gotten her a certain distance, but now she unconsciously picked up on something else.

  The little Karelian Bear dog shut up in the camper was having a fit, and with his steady, high-pitched puppyish yipping was complaining to the world. To her.

  Gasping, crying, Lily made it to the camper and, hands too numb to actually feel the latch, blindly fumbled open the door. No longer able to stand, she sprawled inside, nudged the door shut with a ten-ton foot, and let the welcoming dog kisses lick some warmth back into her frozen face.

  ***

  Two days later, the horror of Wednesday’s sharp brush with death still playing havoc with her body, Lily finally forced herself to crawl from the cot. Joints aching, a glance in the mirror suspended from a nail over the wash basin showed just how close she’d come to dying in the whiteout.Her nose was only now regaining normal skin color, thanks, no doubt, to the slight protection the cloth wrapped around her neck and face had yielded. Aside from a certain amount of pain, the biggest damage seemed to be over her cheekbones where a scattering of blisters had sprouted. Most were clear, but two small ones were filled with dark fluid. Not a good sign, if she recalled her first aid courses correctly. Dry skin sloughed like dandruff. In addition, the fingers on her right hand, from which she’d pulled the glove a few times while making witch light, were swollen and stiff.

  “Great,” she sighed, eyeing the damage and carefully wrapping a clean cloth over the worst spots. God kn
ows she didn’t need an infection. “Just ducky.”

  Sunshine glared out of a vibrant blue sky when she and the pup ventured from the camper at his demand. The temperature had climbed to what she figured was a balmy fifty degrees, almost summer after what had gone before. The air had never smelled so clean and pure. From the trees a quarter mile away where the horses were stashed, the creek gurgled with the rush of melting snow water. Between, a couple of what had been the tallest drifts sat in a muddy loblolly.

  A Chinook had come in not long after she fell, strength at an end, into the camper. Now, soggy bare spots showed like mange on a dog. But not a dog like Blizzard, that being the name she’d hung on the pup. What could be more appropriate?

  Blizzard tended to the demands of his training by running a perimeter check around the camper before answering his personal needs. Judging by his reaction, all was well, so Lily stepped to the ground from the camper steps.

  Glory, she moved like she was a full hundred twenty-seven. Haha. Joke. How did one count the years before resurrection?

  Squinting, she made out the shapes of the horses over in the band of trees, where they were still content to graze the dry grass alongside the stream. Today she had to walk over there, make sure all was well, probably put the hobbles and protective bells back on. Right now, the prospect called for more energy than she had.

  “Hey, Blizzard, go check the horses,” she told the pup, a smile in her voice. If only . . .

  Consequently, when he raced off in the direction she indicated as though he understood, she about fell over.

  A real clown, he made her laugh as he leapt rapidly melting drifts like he wanted to fly. But then, at the mid-way point, he stopped dead. Nose pointing into the breeze, ears pricked forward, he froze. The hair on his back rose like quills on a hedgehog.