T Connor: Bitter Cold Apocalypse 2

“Riling them up,” I noted quietly. “Getting them ready.”

Marlon nodded and handed the binoculars back, the frown on his face carving deep grooves into his forehead. “He’s definitely working them up,” he agreed. “Giving them the pep talk. Though I suspect it’s less pep and more threat.”

“But they have to agree with what he’s doing,” I said. “They’re here. And there’s only one reason for them to have come. They must be willing to support him.”

Marlon gave me a long, considering look, his eyes hooded.

More secrets, I thought. I just hoped he was telling me the things I needed to know for right now. The things that would keep my family—and my town—safe.

“They might be willing to support him,” he agreed. “Or they might have been ordered to come here.”

“Ordered by who ?”

Instead of answering, he turned back toward the camp and narrowed his eyes to give himself a better view.

“At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter which it is,” he said. “It only matters that they’re coming.”

Right, ignoring my question it was, then. I stared toward the camp as well, squinting against the bright glare coming up off the snow.

“Pretty useless to be watching them when we can’t hear them,” I noted. “We’re never going to find anything out unless we can hear what they’re saying.” I paused for a beat, my words having brought on a very dangerous—but very obvious—idea, and let it formulate for a second.

Then, without thinking, I said, “We need to get closer. We need to be able to hear what they’re saying.”

Marlon and I were making our way quickly back toward Town Hall, our mouths moving almost faster than our brains could as we worked out the kinks in the plan.

“It’s simple,” I said. “I get down there, get close enough to listen to someone conveniently talking about the plan, figure out what they’re doing, and then get back here in time to help the town prepare for what’s coming.”

“Simple,” Marlon said with a snort. “Obviously. And I’ll go with you. As your backup.”

I shook my head sharply. “You’ll stay here. The people in town need a leader, in case I don’t come back. They’ll need someone to tell them what to do, and how to do it. To keep them safe. If I don’t come back, it’ll still mean that Randall’s coming for the town. The people here will need someone to defend them.”

“The town already has people to lead,” Marlon argued. “The mayor. The police chief. The fire chief.”

I stopped, turned, and grabbed Marlon’s arm to bring him to a halt. Then I stared into his eyes, my expression deadly serious.

“I don’t know who you are, Marlon, and I don’t know what you’ve done in your life. Yet. But I know it’s bigger than what the mayor, police chief, and fire chief have done, combined. When I say the people will need someone to protect them, I mean someone better qualified than Randall. I mean someone with military experience. Someone who knows what protection really means.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stared at me for several moments, his eyes probing mine as he no doubt tried to figure out exactly how much I knew—or how much I thought I knew. Then he nodded once.

“You’re right,” he said, turning to continue toward Town Hall. “On all accounts.”

Well that answered one question, at least. He’d had military experience. I suspected he was also a part of the intelligence community, but that must have come later. Or maybe at the same time; there were plenty of people who served both communities concurrently.

Somehow, knowing that I’d guessed right on that account relieved a part of the pressure I was feeling. Knowing that Marlon was going to be here to watch over the situation while I was gone—to watch over my family, and keep them safe from Randall—relieved another piece of pressure.

Because I’d seen Marlon work. I knew how good he was. And if there was any man out there who could outsmart Randall in a fight, it was the one walking next to me.

I crept down toward the river, a man named Henry O’Connor right behind me. There was a steep embankment down to the river here, so I was going slowly, taking my time as I made my way down through the deep snow. No one had come down here since the snow had fallen, and though it was icy on top, it was deep and treacherous underneath, and going slowly might have meant we were sinking further, but it also meant we were less likely to fall.

Which, I had come to realize, was a very real possibility when it came to Henry.

Yeah, he’d lived in this area of Michigan for nearly his entire life. Yes, he definitely knew how to handle the outdoors—and this wasn’t his first adventure with the snow. But when it came to being subtle, and moving in a way that didn’t attract a whole lot of attention, Henry left a lot to be desired. I’d already had to stop him from running right into the open space between the town and the forest, and when he’d looked at me, confused, I’d had to tell him that there were actually people about five hundred feet away that would kill us if they saw us.

That had gotten his attention. I hoped.

Luckily, this patch of bank was heavily forested, so we were able to go from tree to tree down the bank. It gave us a better chance of getting to the bottom without any major mishaps. And there, I knew, we would find the rickety old footbridge that someone had built over the river about one hundred years ago.

It wasn’t in good shape. It definitely wasn’t good for human travel. But it was also the only option we had for crossing to the other side—where Randall and his camp were waiting for us. I still wasn’t sure whether it was actually going to support us, but Marlon and I had decided that we had a better chance of making it across the bridge in one piece than we did if we tried to cross the river itself.

It might look frozen. That didn’t mean the ice was stable enough to support us. And I’d already seen firsthand how easy it was for someone to go through a thin spot—and get sucked into the rapids underneath.

Henry cussed then, and I looked back to see him standing on one foot and shaking the other.

“Problem?” I hissed, annoyed beyond belief at this man.

You’d think he’d never set foot in the wilderness in his life, for all the moaning that was going on. If I didn’t need him, I would have sent him back to town ten times already.

“Twisted my damned ankle,” he moaned, jumping up and down. Then, catching a glimpse of my face and seeming to realize how serious I was about this whole thing, he hobbled down toward me.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m out in the woods a lot but I’m not used to hills. Definitely not used to there being people who’re going to try to shoot me. Guess I’m not dealing with it well.”

I gave him half a smile, and reminded myself again that I was dealing with a civilian here. “They’re only going to try to shoot us if they see us, Henry. As long as we’re in the woods, we’re safe.”

He lifted his eyebrows at me. “And after we’re out of the woods? No pun intended.”

I tipped my head back and forth in a gesture that said I wasn’t completely sure, but hoped for the best. “We’ll deal with that when it comes up. The plan right now is to get down there, make sure the bridge is stable enough to support us, and get over it when we think no one is watching. After that, we regroup and figure out our next steps.”

Henry nodded, and I could see the wheels in his head turning. The questions starting. The doubts coming up.

Dammit.

“I still don’t think Randall would shoot me. Not if he recognizes me,” he said, repeating something he’d told me at least three times.