I took my knife out and put an end to his suffering by slicing it through his neck. Now I had the problem of what to do with the meat. I spent the next few hours taking off the haunches, and then I skinned him as best I could and tried to bury the organs in the ground, but it was hard going with all the roots. The dirt was miserably cold, and after a while, I went back to the cabin and dug out some old plastic garbage bags. They provided a pretty poor substitute for a deep hole. Any predator with half a nose would seek them out in no time. I just hoped it wasn’t a determined bear.
I didn’t bag everything. I set aside the liver and kidneys for stew. I felt like a real hunter, so I took a bit of blood and drank it down. Then I had to fight to keep from gagging.
I dragged back chunks of the big animal and put them on the porch. Some of it I would turn into jerky. If the snow came on, as I suspected it would, I would bury the rest in an outdoor freezer and hope it didn’t thaw out too soon.
I went back and hacked at the ribs for a while and took a huge piece back. This I chopped and broke into smaller sections, and then I let a rack of six roast near the fireplace. I didn’t have much seasoning, but they were just about the best ribs I had ever eaten in my life.
Winter was like a heavy blanket of white, and I was stuck for the time being. Stuck may have been the wrong word. I could certainly head out in the SUV and drive nice and slow out of the mountains, but I thought it would be a good idea to stay in place and wait for the winter to pass. Make a fresh run at the city when all the madness was over. And so my existence ground to a slow crawl as I waited.
I went out and started the SUV. I let it run for a good half hour. I ran the heater very high, so I could get at any moisture. The car already smelled like mildew, but it was worth a shot.
I drove up and down the little drive way a few times, taking care to hit a few potholes. I wanted to shift the gas in the tank, let it move around. If condensation built up on the inside and mixed with the gas, I would have a hell of a time going anywhere.
I created a calendar on a sheet of paper and put a reminder to do this again in a week.
Days were routine, mainly focusing on what I would eat. The survival packs would only get me through another two months at best, so I made more of an effort to hunt.
I took down a big buck and gave him the same treatment as the elk. After dragging the carcass a half mile away, I freaked when I thought I had lost my way in the snow. Stupid. If a fresh dusting of snow came along and covered my tracks, I would likely freeze out here.
Weeks fled past and became a blur. For Christmas, I opened the last can of corned beef. I sang a Christmas carol or two and built up the fire. Low on wood, I would have to go stand in a foot of fresh snow tomorrow and chop some logs. If Ray came back, I would ask his forgiveness for removing some of his tree line. Until then, I wasn’t planning on hauling wood back through the snow.
It was February when I ran out of food. The last of the emergency supplies were gone, and I was down to the gristly parts of the last deer I had shot. I sat in the tree for three days, and not a single one wandered by. I knew from my old military training that I could survive for a few weeks with nothing to eat, as long as I had water. And that I had plenty of, thanks to all the cursed snow.
I didn’t plan to wait around for that, so I packed a few supplies, loaded the shotgun, and put them in the car.
I had to crank at the key a few times, but the car puttered to life. The gas had sat in the tank for a few months, and I hoped it would be fine. I backed out of the snow, which was somewhat melted and only a few inches thick. The bigger concern was the ice that lay underneath it.
The car stuttered as I struggled to get moving. Hopefully shifting the gas around in the tank had helped.
I opened the gate with a steady hand, but some of the nails fell out from my jury-rigged repairs. Once I slid past the gate, I put it back in place and pounded the nails in with the tire iron. Then I got on a road that was pure white; there were no tread marks at all. The cabin wasn’t too high up, another thousand feet, and I doubted I would have been able to drive at all if it had been up much higher.
In four-wheel drive, the SUV handled quite well, but I wouldn’t have wanted to take it out in deep snow. I drove out of the mountain with the radio constantly scanning for signs of life. I came across a few stations that were playing music. One had old rock music on, and the sound of Steely Dan soon filled the car. The other was playing classical music for which I didn’t care, but I listened for the sake of listening.
What would I find when I returned? The lack of news, talk radio, other channels had me concerned. I charged my cell phone as I drove. It had gone dead a few weeks ago. I was doing my best to conserve gas, so I didn’t bother firing up the generator to charge it. I tried to call Allison, but the phone gave the fast busy again. Then I tried co-workers, my manager at work. The phone clicked like it was trying to dial out, but I never got a ring from the speaker.
There was less ice the farther I got down the road, and I was able to add some speed.
I came across a small town—just a blip on a map, really. There was a gas station with no attendant. I slowed down and looked into the windows, but saw no movement. The pumps were an older variety but still electronic, and from my vantage point, I could tell they were dead. I waited but didn’t honk my horn. The road here was much clearer, and it was impossible to tell if anyone had driven here.
I moved on and came across a small convenience store. I pulled into the parking lot and stared at the front window for a moment, but like the gas station, there was no movement. Leaving the car running, I jumped out, hoping for the best. I walked to the front door, where a sign proclaimed the store to be closed, but the inside was a mess, like someone had tried to pack the place into many large boxes that lay open on the floor. I tried the door, but it was locked. A metal gate shielded most of the door, but if I smashed it, I could probably wiggle in.
I got in my car and headed back to town. As I hit the old back roads that got me here in the first place, I saw house after house sitting dark. I didn’t want to risk someone shooting me, so I drove slowly but only looked. If things were as bad as I thought, there was little point in me trying to approach one, in case someone was waiting with a shotgun behind the front door. I would be, if it were me.
I came out of a street and found the main drag that led back to Vesper Lake. The two-lane road was free of traffic.
I went around a bend doing about 45 MPH and skidded to a stop at a military checkpoint. There were a pair of men blocking the road, and a Hummer stood obstructing part of it.
It has been a while, but I was pretty sure this was the same checkpoint I had left when it was manned by Lee and his men. Could this still be them? This didn’t make much sense. Why would they still be in the same location? It was probably another platoon tasked with keeping the peace.
When I saw them, I felt a sense of relief. At last, I could get all of my questions answered. Maybe the town was under protection, maybe there was a full military presence and the whole thing was under control. I wanted to laugh with relief. I wanted to jump out and hug the soldiers standing by the wooden barrier.
They had their backs turned to me, so I slowed down and approached at a creep, giving them time to hear me coming. I didn’t want to scare some recruit into filling my car with .50 caliber rounds from the big gun on the Hummer. I rolled down the window and called out.
“Am I ever glad to see you guys! I’ve been hiding out up in the mountains and missed out on the last few months. Anyone want to give me the ten-second run down?”