T Connor - Bitter Cold Apocalypse 2

It was heartening to see. And I knew it was also going to get a lot tougher as this day went on. Because we were going to go from sitting around, or moving in short bursts, to a move that extended for many hours, and across many miles. It was going to be hard on anyone with any health concerns—including the many elderly town members—and on anyone with young children, or a lot to carry.

It was why we’d decided to break for breakfast, first. Because everyone was going to need all the calories they could take in right now, if they were going to survive this march.

We got started on the march half an hour later. I had gone out myself to find the men who had been standing watch, and by the time we got back to the main group, Marlon had made sure everyone was packed up again and ready to go.

I looked around the group, making a mental catalogue of who and what we had, and made a few decisions.

“Men, you’re on the outer fringes of the group,” I said immediately. “We move in single file, because the trees are going to make that a necessity, at least until we get to more open land. But we stay together. No breaking off into smaller groups. No walking by yourself. Men, place yourselves around the women, children, and elderly, and keep yourselves between them and the forest. Keep your guns out and your eyes on the horizon. Pick up anyone who falls, and that goes for everyone. We can’t afford to slow down, but we’re also not going to leave anyone behind. If you see anyone struggling, help them.”

I looked around, meeting people’s gazes and giving them the most serious look I could manage. This was important. I needed them to pay attention and keep their wits about them.

“Remember, no breaking off from the group. If you need to stop for any reason, you let one of us know so that we can stop the whole group. No one goes off by themselves, and I mean no one. Going off by yourself means you might die, you got it?”

I was met by many, many shocked—and frightened—looks, and I couldn’t blame them. Not really. Yeah, these were people who lived out in the wilderness of Northern Michigan. But they were also people who lived in a town, not in the woods. They were people who were used to civilization. Roads. Markets. Hot coffee.

They weren’t used to hearing things like that they might die if they stepped out of line.

But they had to understand that, or chances of us losing someone were very, very good. Because we were going to need to move fast, here, if we were going to avoid Randall—and the night, which would come too quickly. I wasn’t going to have time to keep an eye on everyone.

I wasn’t going to know if someone was missing from the group.

This was going to be specifically important among the middle of the group, because I knew that those people—the women, the children, the elderly—were the most likely to drop out. To get tired and slow down, or to swerve off course, thinking that they were just going to take a bit of a rest. It was exactly what I couldn’t have happening. Exactly the thing that would lead them directly to their deaths.

Which was why I’d tasked my best lieutenant for the job. The one person I knew I could count on over and above anyone else. The one person I knew would have my back no matter what.

Angie.

Though she was wounded and would be walking with difficulty, she had insisted that she would walk on her own rather than using the litter I’d prepared for her. I wasn’t pleased with the idea, but honestly, I wasn’t surprised. The woman was more stubborn than anyone I’d ever met, and now that she was theoretically mended by the doctor, it had become impossible to tell her that she couldn’t do anything on her own.

When she’d told me that she was going to be walking under her own power, I’d tried to argue with her. I’d lost. Quickly.

So I’d moved to my Plan B: having her supervise the march from where she would be walking. She and Sarah would be with the women and kids, so Angie would be able to keep an eye on that particular group. Keep them moving. Keep them together. And if she was there, under the watchful eyes of the men supervising that group of people…

It meant I could make sure we weren’t being followed. It meant I didn’t have to worry as much about those two, and could worry about Randall, and the wolves that I was afraid would be coming after us. I hadn’t forgotten that the animals were acting crazy since the weather/EMP situation. I hadn’t forgotten how that bear came after us. And the biggest drawback of going into the forest, as far as I was concerned, was that we might run into more carnivores acting insane.

Still, it was our only real shot. Whatever happened, I’d deal with it. Not having to worry about what the people around me were doing would help me focus on that.

Finally, a few people started muttering in the crowd, and then I could see people nodding their understanding. A few turned into many, and before long the entire group was nodding that they understood what I was saying.

I wasn’t sure they truly did. But I also knew that I’d done all I could do in that regard. And delaying further was just going to put us in more danger.

“Let’s go,” I said. “Marlon, you know the route to your house best. You’re in the lead. Joe, you’re with him. Henry and Bob, you’re with me in the back. I need eyes on the trail behind us, to make sure we’re not being followed.”

The people reacted with that sort of shuffling, fluid situation that was so characteristic of a group getting ready to move, and I watched as Marlon moved to the head of the group, giving people orders as he went, and the men of the town moved to surround and integrate with the rest of the group. Women and children grouped together—not safe if we were being attacked by any large force, which might go straight for the most vulnerable, but in this situation, the best we could do was to keep them all together and make sure they were safe—and the elderly shuffled in with them.

Moments later, Marlon started forward, his strides long and confident, and the people behind him followed, each of them plowing through the snow with determination on their faces. I had to hand it to them. They’d been through hell and back in the last twenty-four hours—more than that, if I included the EMP situation—and I hadn’t heard a single complaint. Even now, when they’d been forced out of their town and into the wilderness, they were working together as best they could and following our instructions. They weren’t crying. They weren’t complaining about how hard life had suddenly become.

And they weren’t giving up.

I just hoped they would keep that attitude over the next ten or so hours.

We were five hours into the march before we took a break, and though the people were still going strong, I could see—and feel—them starting to crumble.

“How much further do you think we have to go?” Bob asked when Marlon made his way back toward our small group for lunch.

Marlon glanced down at the compass he always seemed to have in his pocket and sighed. “At least five more hours, give or take,” he said. “We’re making pretty good time but this is still an awful lot of distance. And the people are going to start moving more slowly as they get tired.”

I glanced up at the slice of sky I could see above us, through the bare branches of the trees, and tried to measure how much longer I thought we had when it came to daylight. Our early start meant that we’d been on the road, so to speak, well before the day truly started, and right now the sun was still close to its apex. High noon or just past it. I glanced at my watch to confirm, but knew that the time wasn’t the important thing here.