Daunting Days of Winter (30 page)

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Authors: Ray Gorham,Jodi Gorham

Tags: #Mystery, #Political, #Technothrillers, #Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers, #Literature & Fiction

BOOK: Daunting Days of Winter
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“Collin, my name is Kyle,” he began, telling him about his kids, the things he’d seen on his trip, and anything else he could think of that would put the boy at ease. When he started talking about Garfield, the boy seemed to show some interest. Finally, after almost an hour of one-sided conversation, Collin unlocked the front door and let Kyle inside.

Upon entering, Kyle noticed the doorframe was splintered inward and didn’t totally secure the door. The cabin was furnished with a couple of couches, an old TV, a woodstove, and a kitchen table with four wooden chairs around it. Written in marker on the wall above the table was what looked like a scoreboard. There were three entries:

1 @ 75yds

2 @ 200 yds

1 @ 300 yds

He guessed he was meant to be the next entry, the new record, 1 @ 600yds, and likely would have been if not for his vest. He thought briefly of adding an entry of his own, 3 @ 20 yds, but concerned about further compromising what little human dignity he was fighting to retain, Kyle left the wall blank.

Collin followed Kyle through the house as he searched it. A back bedroom was littered with discarded backpacks, the contents strewn on the floor. He wondered who the owners of the backpacks were and what had become of their bodies while he continued searching the old cabin, gathering what little he could find that might be of assistance, which didn’t amount to much beyond a few cans of food, ammunition, and some clothes for the child.

Only after again explaining to Collin that his sister had died and promising that he could see her and say goodbye, along with the promise that Collin could ride Kyle’s horse, was Kyle finally able to convince the boy to leave the cabin and come with him. Collin still had not spoken but did reward Kyle with a faint smile as Kyle described some of the funny things about Garfield. With that small victory, they trudged down the dirt road, Collin trailing ten paces behind, to where Kyle had tethered Garfield.

The boy shed a few tears when he saw his sister’s body, but was indifferent to the two men who lay beside her. Kyle asked who they were, but Collin didn’t say. He just stared at his sister’s lifeless body. Kyle waited for a few uncomfortable minutes before finally insisting that it was time to leave, and to his surprise, Collin came without resistance. Kyle had initially debated whether or not to let the boy see his sister, but had figured the poor child couldn’t be any more scarred than he already was, and at least having seen Stacy dead, he would know he couldn’t go back to her.

With Garfield’s age and the weight of the load he was already carrying, Kyle decided to walk so that Collin could ride. The pace was a little slow, but likely no slower than it would have been with both of them riding, plus Collin seemed to find comfort in being on Garfield, something about the large, docile creature giving him a sense of security.

They walked until late that night, the moon lighting the way, until they found a pickup truck with a fifth wheel camper on the side of the road, giving them a good place to sleep for a few hours. After gathering handfuls of young pine needles for breakfast, they departed early the next morning.

Now they were just a couple of miles from his parent’s place, and Kyle was getting more anxious by the minute, anticipating and dreading what he might find when he arrived.

“What kind of vest is it that you’re wearing?” The sheriff’s voice startled Kyle, bringing him back to the present.

“I’m sorry. What was that?” Kyle asked.

“Your vest. What kind is it?”

Kyle paused, not sure what to tell the sheriff and not wanting to cause any problems this close to his destination.

“Look,” the man said. “I can see the bullet holes in your jacket, and you’re favoring your left arm. You don’t act like law enforcement, so I’m asking you about your armor. Not trying to trick you or anything, but we do try to be aware of who’s coming into our community.”

“Sorry,” Kyle said, glancing down at the holes in his jacket. “I don’t know much about it, just that it works. A friend gave it to me before I headed this direction. He was military and border patrol, so he probably got it from his work.”

“You’re still sore from being hit. Does it have anything to do with your companion?”

Kyle nodded, explaining what had happened in as tactful a manor as possible, and promising that he wasn’t there to make trouble. By now they were most of the way across the bridge, with the town ahead of them looking relatively peaceful. “How are things going here, sir?” Kyle asked.

“Just call me Greg, and actually, things are pretty good, at least compared to most places. We’re a small community, but we have the essentials—farms, food, some medical capacity, along with a secure location.” He nodded at the bridge they had just crossed, then pointed across town. “The river’s a natural barrier, so between the bridge here and the one in Bonner’s Ferry, we have natural choke points to defend. There’s only one big road coming from the North and no big population centers across the border in Canada, so no reason for significant threats to come at us from that direction, though that road is still guarded, in addition to the bridges.”

“Any problems to this point?”

Greg shook his head. “An uptick in crime for the first month, but we’ve been lucky. We’re an isolated agricultural community with lots of arable land, water, wood, infrastructure, a sawmill with more wood than we can use in a decade, a jail, and schools. I could go on.” He stopped and looked at Kyle. “Listen, we know how lucky we are, so we don’t want people coming in and messing things up. Visitors get escorted through town and sent on their way if they don’t have a reason to be here. I’ll be the one going to your parent’s place with you. If you are not who you say you are, don’t expect to be able to stay. If you do have a connection, welcome to Moyie Springs, but remember, we don’t tolerate much. We have enough information about what is going on in the bigger cities to know we want none of that here. If you step out of line, you’ll be dealt with harshly. Do you understand?”

Kyle raised his hands defensively. “Loud and clear. I have no intention of messing things up for my family. You really don’t need to worry about me.”

“Good.” the Sheriff said. “I’ve got better things to do with my time.”

They reached the far side of the ravine, with Collin still clinging tightly to the stirrup, and Kyle walking beside Greg. Another RV was parked just past the end of the bridge, and Greg told Kyle to wait while he went to the vehicle. The door swung open, and two armed men emerged, eyeing Kyle while they talked to the sheriff in hushed voices. Kyle talked to Collin while they waited, then hefted him back up on the horse. Eventually Greg returned, and the other two men retreated back into their RV.

The clouds had cleared away, and the sun was warming things up, causing the thin layer of snow on the road to melt off and mists of steam to rise in the cool air. “We good?” Kyle asked.

Greg nodded. “Just giving them a heads up. This side of town is pretty quiet, not many people coming through, so they’re curious. There are a lot of long, cold, boring days out here.

Greg followed Kyle’s lead, cutting back south along the top of the ridge that overlooked the river.

“What brought your parents here?” Greg asked as he scanned the far side of the river.

“Retirement. They were both teachers, retiring after thirty years in the profession. Mom taught fifth grade, and dad taught high school science. He still substituted here to keep busy. Mom grew up in Sandpoint, and loved the area. Dad is from Seattle, but had no desire to return, as big and crowded as it is anymore.”

“They chose well to not retire in Seattle. Much lower survival rates there. Lots of fighting going on.”

“Is there military involvement?” Kyle asked, his ears perking up.

Greg shook his head. “Nothing like that. Just too many people in too small a space with too few resources, and no sense of community for that matter.”

“I’ve worried about other countries coming over, especially to cities on the coast. You hear of anything like that?”

Greg laughed. “No. No invasions, at least not yet. To me, it wouldn’t make sense for anyone to do that, at least not yet.”

Kyle looked at him, surprised, and Greg continued. “First off, why put yourself in the middle of anarchy? A military force would have to restore some law and order, which would be a major drain on their resources. Anyone smart will just sit back and let us fight it out, then see what and who’s left when we’re all done. Hell, if the Chinese landed on the West Coast, it would give people someone to fight instead of each other. Probably do more to unify us than our government has in the last six months.”

“You don’t think they want our land or our stuff?”

“Nope,” Greg said, shaking his head vigorously. “We’re so far across the ocean it would be cheaper for them to manufacture it than to come over here, fight for it, and ship it back. Most of it probably came from China in the first place. They don’t need the land because their people don’t know to want what they don’t have, and besides, we took out most of their command infrastructure and have promised to drop the big one on them if they try anything, and they know we’re desperate. In other words, we should be good, if you consider our current status good.”

Greg smiled at Kyle. “You wonder what we talk about during the long, boring shifts at the end of the bridges?”

“Let me guess,” Kyle said, rubbing his chin. “Politics?”

Greg laughed, the first indication of humor he’d shown since they met. “Got it. My theory is that China just needs to hold tight for a few years until we’re ready to start buying again. We’ll have to replace everything, and I mean everything. Every factory owner in China is going to be crazy rich in a few years, just like America got after World War II when Europe had all their stuff bombed out and had to buy it from us. Amazing how things cycle through history.”

“From what I can see, this isn’t too bad a place to be, up here out of the way like you are.” Kyle turned to make sure Collin was doing okay, then continued. “You have everything you need to survive and can spend your guard time discussing politics instead of fighting off the bad guys.”

Greg nodded, smiling. “You’re not far off. Not many places in America I’d rather be right now, that’s for sure.”

A strange beeping sound startled Kyle. Greg reached down and pulled a radio Kyle hadn’t noticed from his belt and spoke into it. After a short conversation with a guard at another checkpoint, the radio was replaced and Greg turned his attention back to Kyle. “There’s always something,” he said, dismissing the call.

Kyle shook his head in wonder. “Okay, how do you still have radios? Thought we lost everything like that back in September.”

Greg shrugged. “We lost most things back then, but not everything.”

“What? You just happened to find some radios that worked?”

“No, guess we got a little bit lucky. There are a few preppers in the area, myself being one of them, at least to a degree. I read an article on a blog once that said microwave ovens make a good Faraday cage, and…”

“A farawhat cage?”

“A Faraday cage. It’s a device that protects electronics from an EMP, so they aren’t affected by the electrons or whatever it is that causes the damage. There are different things that’ll work – metal trashcan, steel cabinets, whatever. A microwave is just one of them. Anyway, I had a few old radios and a couple old microwaves I didn’t use, so I wrapped the radios in foil, stuck them in one of the microwaves, and forgot about them. When all this happened, I pulled them out, popped a couple of batteries in, and they worked.”

“Where’d you get the batteries?”

“Batteries are cheap, and they last a long time, so I always kept hundreds of them on hand. Just had to be sure and rotate them.”

“I’d say that seems like a lot of trouble, but obviously in hindsight, it wasn’t.”

“Not everything worked. I had an old cell phone and my first ipad that I stuck in there too. They work if you want to play games, but with no cell systems, I can’t communicate with them. There are a couple guys in the area with HAM radios though, so we’re not entirely cut off.” He looked up ahead at a log home with a business sign hanging out front. “That’s it, isn’t it?” he indicated with a lift of his chin.

Kyle sucked in his breath and nodded. “It is.”

CHAPTER 37

 

Wednesday, February 15
th

Central Montana

 

Rose stared towards the West, her heart pounding as she watched the figure in the distance drawing ever so slowly nearer. Encountering a stranger out in the middle of nowhere made her chest tighten and her breathing difficult. She tried telling herself to relax, but it didn’t work, as she couldn’t find any reason to convince herself she was safe. Reining Smokey to a halt, she pulled out her gun and peered through the scope.

The figure was still a long ways off and appeared to be a man wearing a dark coat, jeans, and a backpack, trailed by a small dog that had to trot to keep up with the walker’s long strides. “What do you think, Smokey?” she asked.

Smokey didn’t reply. He just dropped his head to graze on the knee-high, brown grass, concerned only with finding something more to eat and oblivious for the moment to any tension Rose felt.

She glanced back at Blitz, still plodding steadily along after all these miles. “You two good with this?” she asked, trying to summon her courage as Smokey gave a good shake.

Rose kept her rifle in her hands and spurred Smokey, mildly reassured by the fact there were few vehicles for someone to hide behind. Smokey tugged on a final tuft of grass and set off again, resigned to his fate of nonstop walking. Rose felt the familiar tug on the saddle as Blitz was roused into action, and the small procession was once again on its way.

A little under fifteen minutes later, the man was close enough to communicate, which he did with a wave. Rose returned the gesture, but still held her rifle tightly in her right hand. “Breathe deeply,” she told herself, feeling the tension in her chest ratchet up another notch. To her dismay, the man began heading across the median in a line to intercept her. She had seen a few people over the last week, but only two had made any attempt to communicate, and then with just with a wave.

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