T Connor: Bitter Cold Apocalypse

I was planning on using that strength for something else entirely.

When they thought they were done enough, they tied my hands behind me and ran a length of rope from my hands to my tied ankles so I couldn’t stand up. This, too, was laughable.

I’d have been able to get out of those knots in my sleep. But I wouldn’t do it until I was ready.

When they pushed and pulled me over toward the wall and left me leaning against it, I did finally smile. My pack sat less than a foot away from me. And that was exactly what I needed. The opportunity I’d been waiting for.

They’d put me in the one place in the entire cabin where I’d be able to get to exactly what I needed to get away.

I’d been able to figure out whether Dee and Dum were packing handguns—they weren’t—during the fight, and now I scowled at the floor, thinking through what their next steps would be. The two dumb ones would drag me outside, no doubt, where I would be dispatched by Logan or Randall—who were probably the only two with the guts to try to kill a man.

At least that was how they thought it was going to work.

I watched through narrowed eyes as they made their way toward the bedroom and pulled the curtain shut behind them. I listened to their voices as they murmured to each other, no doubt coming up with the same plan I’d already outlined, and started slipping my wrists out of the bindings. I’d pushed outward with my wrists as they were tying them, so the loops were far too loose. It made it easy to slip back out of them with almost no effort.

Just like Houdini, I thought to myself, pulling my arms back around to their correct position and rubbing my wrists.

A second later, I had my hands in my pack, rifling through for my hunting knife. I had to get that knife—which I’d hidden at the bottom of the pack—before any of those goons made it back into the living room. Once I found it, I yanked it out, shoved my pack back into place, and threaded my hands around behind my back again.

They needed to think I was still tied up. That I was still helpless.

I flashed one quick glance in Angie’s direction before I looked at the floor again. She was staring at me with wide, fearful eyes—but I could also see the shadow of a grin at the corner of her mouth. She knew exactly what I was doing.

It was the two goons who returned for me, just as I’d expected. Moment of truth, I thought, my muscles tensing in readiness.

When Dum pulled me up by the back of my shirt, I swung my arm around and struck him in the temple with the butt of the knife. He collapsed in a heap on the floor, and I quickly backed up, crouching down a bit and getting ready for Dee to charge me. Dee, however, was staring in shock at Dum, a look of utter confusion on his ugly face.

Right, well, I didn’t want him to fight me anyhow. I snaked an arm around his throat and tightened my hold, giving it only enough pressure to knock him out. I didn’t want to crush his windpipe or kill him. I didn’t want to kill any of them, I reminded myself.

I didn’t need to. If they died of their wounds, that was on them, not me. In the meantime, I was going to do everything I could to keep it non-lethal. I would not kill these men unless I had no choice.

Dee was still falling to the floor unconscious when I stepped over to where the curtain was pulled across the bedroom, still clutching my knife. Randall and Logan would have heard the commotion, but I was hoping they would assume that I’d just been struggling with the other men. After all, it would have been the natural thing to do—no matter how beat up I’d been. I crouched down and waited, balancing myself on my toes and narrowing my focus down to the spot where anyone would have to emerge from that bedroom.

Whoever came out first, I had to get the drop on them. Once that was done, I’d worry about the other guy.

The moment Logan appeared, newly armed with what looked like an S&W M&P Shield, I moved, sinking the six-inch blade into his thigh and twisting. Logan screamed in pain as I pulled my knife free, and he jerked to the side, dropping the handgun—which I caught in one smooth move before it hit the floor. I pocketed the gun and kicked the now-crouching Logan in the back, sending him sprawling into the middle of the living room.

Then I sprang back to the space between the bedroom and the bathroom. One deep breath was all I had time for, and I took full advantage of it. The next man out would be Randall, and I had no doubt that he was going to be the toughest opponent yet.

When he slid the curtain aside, he did it so quickly that it still surprised me, and he was already reaching back to un-holster his Glock. The sight of Logan thrashing in the middle of the room next to his two unconscious cousins, cursing and slipping on his own blood, was enough to make him pause, though—and I readied myself, prepared to slip behind the man and get my knife up to his throat.

But the crazy woodman’s reflexes were staggeringly quick. Instead of pausing and staring like I’d expected him to, he turned and brought his hand down on my wrist, sending my knife skittering across the floor. I paused for only a moment, then punched the guy right in the throat as he lunged toward me and stepped to the side. Randall’s momentum took him right past me—and that was all I needed.

As he drove past me, I put one arm up and wrapped it around his neck, using it as a lever to pull myself up against his back until I was in prime position. Seconds later, my forearm over his windpipe, I was leaning back with all my strength, using my right hand to steady and brace my still-trembling left arm. Randall threw himself back, trying to slam me against the wall, but I was ready for that too. The moment I felt him move, I jumped up and pushed my feet behind me, hitting the wall and throwing us forward again.

In front of me, Randall stumbled, surprised, and fell to his knees. He wasn’t out of the fight yet, though, and ducked one shoulder down, sending me sailing over his head and to the floor on the other side of him. I jumped up almost before I hit the ground, whirled around, and yanked the S&W from my pocket.

Angie screamed, but I fired anyhow, sending two bullets right into Randall’s stomach.

“Right. Well, I guess it’s time to go,” I hissed to myself.

Thank God Angie already had that splint on.

I grabbed my backpack and threw it on, gathered as many blankets as I could carry, and swept whatever cans I could find in the kitchen into my bag. Along the way, I spent a few precious moments searching for the truck keys but came up short.

I fixed my gaze on Randall, who was still on the floor, clutching his stomach. I rushed over and grabbed him by the arm. “Where are the keys?”

“Go to hell,” he mumbled.

I checked all his pockets, but the keys were nowhere to be found. I cursed under my breath and considered ways to get the information out of him, but quickly realized that the old truck probably wouldn’t be our golden ticket to safety—the storm had likely made most of the roads out of here impassable, and an old beater truck wouldn’t get us far…

Not wanting to waste more time searching for the keys, I let go of Randall and rushed over to Angie. I helped her to her feet, letting her lean on me as heavily as she needed while she got her one good leg under her.

“Lean on me, okay? Don’t put any weight on the other leg. If it gets to be too much, let me know and we’ll stop. We’ve got to get the hell out of here, but not if it starts hurting you.”

She just nodded, the color draining out of her face, and that was enough for me.

We moved toward the door, her weight leaning heavily against me, and then down the steps into the front yard of the cabin. At the bottom of the stairs, I handed her the pile of blankets, lifted her into my arms, and carried her into the snow-covered opening. Any tracks left by Randall or the cousins had already been filled in by the snow still whipping down to batter the world with frozen white. I tromped through the snow, still running on adrenalin from the fight, and located the improvised stretcher I’d left near the front steps when we’d arrived at the cabin. I kicked the snow off of it as best I could and laid Angie down, bundling her up in the blankets.