T Connor: Bitter Cold Apocalypse

It also made me wonder what exactly this guy had done to get on the outs with the town leadership. This far into the Michigan wilderness, most towns had rules that kept the towns safe and secure. If this man had run afoul of those rules, it didn’t speak well of his character.

We both fell silent, and I watched the man stir the food every few minutes, listening as the wind picked up outside, howling through the trees and forcing cold drafts through the seams of the cabin to bicker with the heat of the stove. As the minutes crawled by, the large man began to shift from one foot to the other, fidgeting and seeming more agitated by the second. His frequent trips to peek out the door made me even more nervous, and since each trip included the guy opening the door for a moment, each trip also had Angie grimacing in her sleep, nestling deeper into the blanket against the increasingly frigid wind that swept in.

Why the man needed to see outside was a mystery—until I heard a shotgun blast echo in the distance. Our host cracked a sneering smile though his beard, and my mind rushed through a series of possible conclusions. That would be either an ally or an enemy in the distance. Whichever it was, it seemed to calm the man’s fidgeting. He’d definitely been expecting someone .

Shit, shit, shit. I was getting more nervous by the second, because I didn’t like that grin. Didn’t like the idea that someone else was out there—with guns. Someone that this guy was expecting.

My assumption that the guy would turn out to be trouble was looking more and more correct with each passing second. And at this point I was willing to bet that I was outnumbered. My list of options was growing very, very thin. Especially with Angie out of commission.

The guy acted like nothing had happened, though, and served his meager meal on crusty-looking plates. Thinking that if we were going to have to run, it would be better for Angie to have had some calories, I roused her as much as I could and managed to scoop some beans into her mouth. When she shook her head at taking any more, I quickly finished her beans and my own.

If she needed calories, I would need double. I was guessing that I was going to end up carrying her at some point, and further, that we would be running. I would need the energy.

“After she gets a little rest, we’ll go,” I said as the stranger collected the plates.

“That’s not gonna be possible. Storm’s coming in hard.” The man didn’t sound or look disappointed, but stared at Angie like an appreciative zoo patron. “Besides, if that leg of hers is broken, it will need a splint and clean bandages before we try to move her anywhere. We’ll take care of that in the morning when we’ve got plenty of light.”

I scowled, but he was right about our situation. I could see through the crack that made up the one window that the storm was now a white-out. It would have been a suicide mission to drag Angie out into that, vehicle or not. We would have to stay put until the storm passed.

The host, as I was starting to call him in my head, took some jerky out of a jar and chewed on it as he went around putting out the lamps. Without another word, he shuffled into what passed as the bedroom and closed the curtain, shutting himself away from his guests.

I waited a few minutes in silence, then quietly put another couple logs in the stove and lay next to Angie, cuddling her close.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” I whispered.

But I knew it for the lie it was, and knew that I was promising something that I might not be able to deliver on. We had traded a crazed black bear for a wild bear of a human and who knew what else. The trauma of the attack was quickly being replaced by the sickening feel of imminent and unknown dangers that could strike at any time. On top of that, I could feel in my heart that Angie was fading quickly—and that I was alone out here.

I’d been in a million and one terrible situations in Afghanistan, and I knew how to take care of myself. But I’d never been in those situations on my own. I’d always had at least one or two teammates with me, watching my back. I wasn’t sure how to do this without that sort of support. With a wounded soldier on my hands.

I woke before dawn with the wind still whipping outside the cabin and gave Angie small sips of water from a cup left on the floor nearby. There was a bottle of aspirin as well, and I managed to get Angie to swallow three pills, though she whimpered with pain at every movement. She was still groggy, but had enough presence of mind to ask where she was.

I leaned closer to her and ran my fingers through her hair, trying to offer some form of comfort, while I told her about the bear, and the walk from the truck, and the cabin.

“There’s a guy that lives here; he’s been helping,” I told her, my voice barely audible. I didn’t want the guy in question to hear me. Didn’t even want him to know we were discussing him, honestly.

I still didn’t know whether we could trust him, or if he was going to sell us out at the first opportunity. And I was still well aware that I needed to come up with a plan. One that would get us both out of there in one piece—and on our way to a hospital.

“He’s gruff,” I said. “I’m not sure whose side he’s actually on.”

“His own,” she said hoarsely.

I laughed, unsurprised that she was able to see through the situation so easily, and ran my finger from her temple down to her jaw. Hot to the touch, I noticed, grimacing. When I asked her whether she needed to use the bathroom, she shook her head.

Another bad sign. She’d had enough water that she should have needed to go to the bathroom, and if she didn’t, it was because she was getting dehydrated.

I kissed her forehead and headed for the bathroom myself, turning over a couple of plans in my mind as I tried to figure out how to get her the hell out of there.

Before I got out of the bathroom, three loud knocks sounded at the cabin door. I heard the door open, felt the wind rush in, and heard the low rumble of voices, along with the sound of several snow boots dragging and clunking on the floor before the door slammed shut. I finished up quickly and peeked out to see three figures in snow-crusted camo surrounding and gazing at Angie like the wise men in a survivalist manger scene. At that moment, our host had emerged from his bedroom and stepped close behind the new arrivals.

One of them murmured, “She’s a beauty.” The remark was followed by low sounds of assent.

My blood froze in my veins—and then came roaring to life. Who the hell were these men, to be talking about my wife this way? What the hell did they think they were doing?

My muscles clenched as I readied myself to go charging into the room—but then I paused for a moment. Our host was shaking his head, and I didn’t think I was out of line to guess that I was about to hear exactly what he was planning.

If we were going to get away, I needed to know what he had up his sleeve. So I clenched my teeth together and waited for him to speak.

“She’s mine, fellas,” the grizzled host growled softly. “This one has some connections in Ellis Woods that will come in handy in the very near future.”

“What do you mean ‘connections’?”

“The mayor.”

“That bastard,” another one said. “I could’ve gutted him when he kicked us outta town like that, if you’d let me.”

“Me too,” said our host. “But all of that is about to change. This girl is gonna give us the leverage we need to get our stockpile back. Then we’ll be able to gear up for the next phase.”

If my teeth hadn’t already been clenched together, I would have snapped them shut at this glimpse into our host and his friends. I held my breath for a moment, trying to get my brain to kick into gear and overrule my anger. Right, they knew who Angie was. Well, I’d told them that myself. That was nothing earth-shattering.