Blood Runs Cold (Stone Cold Fear Book 2)

by K. M. Fawkes

  “When that’s done, you slide the knife in deeper.” Pete took a deep breath. No puking. It had been years since he’d done this, and now he remembered why. The gore. “Slide it deeper into the pelvic canal. There are membranes attached to the colon that you want to free up. You have to be careful during this part. If you puncture the colon, it can taint the meat.”

  Marie looked quite pale, but she was hanging in there. She even moved closer to get a better view of what he was doing. At some point, he thought, the reporter in her was bound to come out. And that would probably be a good thing. Make her a better study.

  Help her get past the nausea.

  “Do you think you’re up to helping me with the next part?” he asked as he flipped the deer onto its back.

  “Sure. Yeah. I think so.”

  “Grab the front legs and pull,” he instructed. “We’re trying to keep the head elevated.”

  Marie wrapped her hands around the deer’s forelegs and pulled, while lifting at the same time.

  Pete immediately made a shallow cut where the skin formed a V between the deer’s hind legs.

  “This would be easier with a gut hook,” he said. “But here goes nothing.”

  Trying not to gag, he used his middle and index fingers to separate the hide from the organs, then held the knife blade sharp side up and cut all the way to the sternum, explaining his motions as he moved along. As he’d suspected, it wasn’t an easy job with a kitchen knife, though at least it was sharp.

  “It’s heavier than I thought,” Marie said, puffing. “The way they spring through the air, I thought it would be lighter.”

  “Next, you have to cut the diaphragm,” Pete said, and did it. “Then the windpipe.”

  Marie grunted.

  “Sever the windpipe. With the anus free, diaphragm cut, and windpipe severed, the heart, liver, lungs, intestines, stomachs, and bladder can be removed with one long, strong pull on the windpipe.”

  “Jesus,” Marie said. “I will not throw up. I will not throw up.”

  Pete swallowed hard, thinking approximately the same thing, and grabbed the windpipe and pulled, trying not to wince at the disgusting sound it made. He tossed the freed entrails into the snow, where they lay steaming. “You can let go now,” he said faintly.

  “They look really gross,” she said. “I didn’t expect so much gray. I thought they’d be pink or red.”

  Pete flipped the deer onto its belly. “This allows the blood to drain.” He straightened to a standing position and stretched. “I really need to get my shit together.”

  “What’s wrong?” Marie jerked the Glock out of her pocket, then must have remembered that she’d used the last round, because she impatiently shoved it back into her pocket.

  “I should have built a travois or brought something to help carry the carcass back to the cabin. We don’t have supplies now, or the time. The offal and the carcass will attract predators.”

  Marie looked around as though she’d only just remembered there were wolves in the woods. “Just so happens I shoved another blanket into my coat.” She patted her belly. “Unless you thought I pigged out while you were gone and gained a bunch of weight.”

  Pete shook his head, reminding himself one more time that she was cleverer than he gave her credit for. “You are definitely the brains of this operation.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” she joked. “But typical man. You don’t listen.”

  “What? I can’t hear you.”

  “Very funny.”

  She got the blanket out of her coat and spread it out next to the carcass and, working together, they rolled the deer onto the blanket.

  “At least we don’t have to worry about the meat spoiling,” Pete said.

  “More likely to get freezer burn out here,” Marie replied. “I know I have.”

  Pete was about to turn around and start walking when he remembered something.

  “Shit, I have to look for that arrow,” he said, turning back. “We only have two. Can’t afford to leave one just sitting out here.”

  He looked around in the area where he’d thought it had landed, and didn’t find it nicely embedded in a tree trunk, so started looking for holes in the snow. Time and time again, though, the hole turned out to be nothing, probably just a place where snow had dropped from a tree and left behind a depression.

  After about five minutes of fruitless searching, he said, “I give up. We have to get going.”

  It was going to get dark—and a whole lot colder—out here, soon, and they couldn’t afford that. Even if there was a fire back at the cabin.

  The moment it got dark, they had a better chance of getting lost. And he really didn’t want to spend another night out here in the snow. Definitely not with a dead body that was sure to attract wolves and bears.

  Marie took one corner at the front of the blanket while Pete grabbed the other, and they started dragging the deer through the snow. After about ten minutes, Marie asked to take a breather, and Pete used the opportunity to scan their surroundings. So far, there were no predators.

  The blood trail petered out the farther they traveled from the kill zone, and they were only leaving behind the occasional streak now, as opposed to the wide drag mark they’d started with. Either the deer was empty, or whatever blood was left inside had become too cold to flow.

  Not that wolves would be using the blood trail to follow them. Their sense of smell would lead them to a fresh kill. They needed to get moving. They needed to be moving faster.

  By the time the cabin was in sight, Pete was propelling himself forward by stringing together every curse he could think of inside his head. Marie looked as grim and exhausted as he felt.

  “Hey, honey,” he said. “I think I’ll book us a trip to the Bahamas.”

  “I can be ready to go in five,” Marie said.

  Chapter 6

  Pete insisted on entering the cabin first, just in case Marie was right and there was something going on in there. His mother used to say, Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you.

  If there was someone in there, he wanted them to see him first. He also wanted to be the one taking them on.

  “It’s clear,” he said after checking both the bedroom and bathroom. As he looked at the snowy footprints he’d left behind, he thought again of his mother, who would have killed him for tromping around inside in his dirty boots.

  His stomach growled, then, and he grabbed a ration bar from the cabinet. He added eating a whole bear to his list of things to do later, and took a bite of the ration bar.

  “Now what?” Marie asked, leaning from one side to the other in an attempt to stretch her back.

  “I’ll butcher the meat outside and store it in the shed, which is basically a freezer in these temperatures.” And thank God it was, because otherwise, he’d have to build a smokehouse. Jerky was a good snack, but eating it day in and day out sounded horrible. It might as well have been more military rations.

  Marie looked away from the carcass. “If you cut off one of its legs, I’ll figure out a way to cook it in the fireplace.”

  He had to hand it to her; she was being a trooper about the whole thing. It was a whole lot more than he’d expected—and he appreciated it.

  “Deal.” He bent, thrust the knife into the spot where the leg attached to the skeleton, and began cutting.

  It was grim work and he was tired, and he thought once more about convenience. About shelves stocked with different kinds of meats wrapped in neat little packages. When he got to the hip joint, he realized he needed to use the axe, and asked Marie to get it from inside.

  “Keep your head on a post,” Marie said when she got back. She handed him the axe. “If the wolves come back, I’m sure they’d love to take that carcass off your hands.”

  “Head on a post?” Pete asked, then burst into laughter. “You mean head on a swivel.”

  “Do I?” Marie laughed along with him. “It could s
till swivel on a post.”

  “Yeah, if it was cut off.”

  “Definitely better on a swivel, then.”

  She watched him as he used the axe to cut off one of the deer’s legs, then took the haunch from him and went inside while Pete dragged the rest of the carcass to the back of the cabin. He might as well butcher it closer to where he planned to store it. He opened the shed door, already regretting that he’d destroyed the lock, which would have kept predators from gaining easy access.

  As he set about the work of butchering the carcass, he came across the spot where Marie had shot the deer—and had to admit, if only to himself, that it had been a damn good shot. And there he was, insisting that he be the one to lead them and take care of everything.

  Yeah, he still felt as if he had to protect her. But maybe he should let her do more from here on out. Because he was starting to realize that she was a whole lot more than just an annoying, mouthy reporter who lied about being a nurse.

  She might actually be a good—and valuable—partner.

  By the time he finished sectioning the deer, he was nearly delirious with fatigue and hunger, and his ribs were singing the blues again. What I wouldn’t give for a painkiller, or an anti-inflammatory. He was going to lose weight on this new post-apocalypse diet—from either lack of food or dealing with the pain.

  Quit your bitching, Marshall. Things are going to get a whole lot worse before they get better.

  It was the truth, and he knew it. He also knew he was going to have to keep his head about him if he was going to get them through that “worst” part.

  Because he hadn’t forgotten that the prisoners were out there, and would try to kill him and Marie if they found them. He also hadn’t forgotten that they couldn’t stay here for long. They might be safe for now, but it was only a matter of time before that stopped being true.

  And once that happened, he was going to have to start thinking a whole lot quicker than he’d been doing.

  He dragged the meat into the shed and then scanned the inside, looking for something he could use to keep the doors closed. Nothing. And nothing again.

  Third time’s the charm, he thought when he finally spotted a spool of wire tucked in the V where the front and side support beams of the shed joined. Of course, there didn’t happen to be a handy pair of wire cutters lying around.

  With the now-dull knife, he worried at a weak spot into the wire, then bent the wire back and forth until it snapped. He threaded the piece through the latch and twisted it several times. It wouldn’t do anything to keep out the two-legged sort of predator, but until wild creatures grew opposable thumbs, it would keep the bears and wolves from getting the meat.

  Limbs dragging, he made his way to the front of the cabin, opened the door, and was greeted by the heavenly aroma of cooking meat. His mouth filled with saliva—until he noticed Marie looked unusually pale. Then it went dry.

  And he remembered what she’d said about the cabin feeling off.

  Oh God, he should never have left her in here alone.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, yanking off his gloves and looking around.

  Marie lifted the hem of her untucked shirt. There was a circle of blood on her pant leg the size of a saucer. “I stabbed myself with one of the damned knives. So stupid. Like I don’t know better. Always point the tip away from yourself.”

  He moved closer for a better look, half annoyed at how sloppy that was and half relieved that it wasn’t anything more serious. Still, this was very bad. If he’d had any serious plans to get out of this area, this put a very serious dent in them.

  They couldn’t travel if she was wounded. He’d thought it was a good idea to stay here for a little bit, but he really preferred that to be a choice rather than something he was being forced into.

  “I bound it,” she told him. “But it could probably use stitches. If we can find the supplies, I can do it myself, or walk you through it.”

  “There’s nothing in the cabin? No sewing kit?”

  “I’ve looked.”

  “I can take a look if you want,” Pete said. “Maybe you missed something.”

  “Let’s eat first. You must be starving. I’m starving, and I didn’t have to work as hard as you. Surely food will make everything better. Right?” He didn’t miss the waver in her voice at that, and thought that the wound was bothering her more than she was admitting.

  He wondered how deep it actually was. How much it had actually bled. And how much she was lying, simply because she didn’t want to deal with it.

  “There’s also another solution,” he said. “But you’re not going to like it.”

  Her brows furrowed as she waited for him to continue.

  “Cauterize it.”

  Marie blew out her breath. “Not very appealing. After we eat, I’ll take another look at it. See how well it’s clotting.”

  Pete nodded, not really buying into her idea, but willing to let it go for now. If the cut was that deep, no amount of clotting was going to fix it. They’d have to deal with it eventually. But he’d be a whole lot steadier if he’d eaten first.

  And he was willing to give her some time to get used to the idea of what they were going to have to do. Because they couldn’t go out into the wilds if she was wounded. And they couldn’t stay here. Which left them only one option.

  But first, food.

  Marie set down a platter of meat and a bowl of peas in the center of the table. “I skewered the leg on the poker and used it as a makeshift spit. And then I used the poker to heat the peas. It’s not exactly gourmet, but…”

  Pete was so impatient to eat that he stabbed one of the slices of meat and began eating it off his fork rather than cut it into bite-sized pieces. “S’good,” he said, cheek full of food.

  Marie had also grabbed a piece of meat without bothering with manners. “Mmmf,” she moaned, chewing with her eyes closed.

  For at least ten minutes, neither of them said anything. They also didn’t bother with the plates she’d found, too busy eating to worry about cutlery. Then, at about the same time, they both leaned back in their chairs.

  “I may have overeaten,” Pete said. “But I’m not sorry.”

  Suddenly a sound came from the back of the cabin. Pete made eye contact with Marie, then got up and hurried to the bedroom. He crept toward the window and glanced out, seeing only a sliver of the shed.

  “What is it?” Marie asked.

  “I can’t see anything.”

  The sound came again, but this time it was louder. And it was definitely coming from the shed.

  Shit, shit, shit. He’d known something was wrong here and hadn’t listened to his own instincts. Now they were trapped in this damned cabin, Marie was wounded, and something was out there.

  He pressed his face against the window but couldn’t make the glass move—which meant he couldn’t see anything more than what he’d seen before.

  Then he saw exactly what was out there and jerked backward.

  “What did you see?” Marie grabbed his arm and squeezed.

  “A bear.”

  “Shouldn’t they be hibernating?” she said.

  Pete sighed. “I don’t know. But I wish this one was.”

  “What did you do with the shed doors?”

  He told her about the wire.

  “Do you think it will hold?”

  “No idea. I guess it depends on how persistent this bear is.”

  Marie slapped her hand against the window. “Go away!” she shouted, her face furious.

  Pete looked at her. “Go away?”

  “Go away, please?” Marie shrugged. “Maybe the solar flare throws off their hibernation schedule. I read that they can affect a whale’s ability to navigate.”

  Pete didn’t have enough information to have an opinion on that, so he just shrugged and looked out the window again.

  To his surprise, the bear was… moving away from the shed.

  “Well will you look at that,” he murmured, sur
prised. “It sure gave up quick.”

  Marie stared at the bear, her forehead creased. “Seems odd, doesn’t it?”

  Pete watched the bear walk away, thinking the exact same thing. He didn’t know a lot about bears, but he did know that if they were hungry, there was very little to stop them from going after what they wanted.

  It didn’t make sense that this one was giving up so quickly.

  “I’m not going to question it too much, since it’s working in our favor,” he said quietly. “But I am going to have to shore that shed up. Just not today.”

  “Today, we have bigger fish to fry,” Marie said, her tone all business. “If you can still bend over after all that meat, take off your socks. You’ll see what I mean about the floor. Something tells me we need to figure that out, and sooner rather than later.”

  Pete bent over with a groan, pulled off his socks, and set his bare feet on the floor.

  It was surprisingly warm.

  “In-floor heating wouldn’t work without electricity,” he said slowly. “And who the hell would set a place like this up with something that fancy?

  He got up and walked around, checking to see if the warm patch was an anomaly. It wasn’t. The entire floor was warmer than it should be.

  With his belly full of meat, and his body full of adrenaline, his brain finally started taking all the suspicions he’d been building over the last day and putting them together.

  “If the dates on the food are anything to go by, this place hasn’t been occupied for years. But there was no dust.”

  “And the different dates on the food are weird,” Marie added. “The cans are old, but the rations aren’t. Why would someone have been living here with expired food but new rations?”

  “When you found the axe,” Pete said, “did you sharpen it first?”

  “No. It was like that when I found it.”

  He dropped to the floor and pressed his ear against it—and he heard something. Something he hadn’t heard before. Then again, he hadn’t exactly been listening before. They hadn’t had any reason to.

  Or they hadn’t paid attention to the reasons.