Rhiannon had fallen asleep in the warm cabin of the Cat, and Emily had to nudge her to wake her.
“I need your help,” Emily said as she slipped into the driver’s seat, revved the engine, and maneuvered the Cat as close to the chain-link gate as she safely could.
“Put on your gloves—it’s cold out there.”
Emily had Rhiannon positioned on the back of the Cat, its engine turned off now, as she passed the gas can to the girl to pour into the open mouth of the vehicle’s fuel tank.
The stink from the diesel was terrible, and Emily had taken her scarf and wrapped it around her nose and mouth to make sure she didn’t pass out from the fumes as she filled the three-gallon container. That didn’t stop the fumes from reaching her eyes, though, and she found herself having to fight rubbing them each time she pulled the handle on the tank’s port.
After twenty or so trips back and forth between the Cat and the tank, Emily could feel her back and shoulder muscles begin to complain. They’d managed to transfer about sixty gallons, by her estimation, and when she counted the quarter tank left in the tank, that meant there was only another five trips left before they should be done.
“My feet are cold,” moaned Rhiannon, shuffling from side to side to illustrate her displeasure.
“Mine, too,” Emily shouted as she trudged back to the fuel tank. “Not much longer now.”
The clouds had thinned as they worked, allowing the midday sun to finally put in an appearance. It was a strange experience to be crunching through snow almost up to your knees with the sun so bright overhead and yet be so damn cold.
Emily filled the can one final time and heaved it back to the waiting Cat. She placed it on the gantry and then climbed up herself. When she had poured the last few drops into the Cat, she replaced the metal cap on the tank and screwed it down tight, tossing the empty can out into the snow.
She stood for a moment in the sun, catching her breath and stretching out the kinks in her back. Thank God she didn’t have to do that every day; she would be a wreck.
She had left the sheet of wood and tape she’d found earlier resting on the Cat’s rear track. Now she picked them up and climbed into the cabin. She stripped away the makeshift repair from the windshield, tossing it out into the snow. While Rhiannon held the board, Emily quickly taped it into place, doubling up the amount of tape just to be sure.
Back in the driver’s seat, the board partially obscured the right side of her view, but she could make do.
“Let’s make camp,” Emily said to Rhiannon as she steered the Cat toward what looked like the reception area for the hotel. A sign above the door read SLATE CREEK INN in large red letters.
She was reticent to leave the warmth of the cab behind them again so soon, but their cramped legs and stiff backs welcomed the promise of an opportunity to rest. “Stay in the Cat with Thor, okay? Until I know it’s safe.”
Rhiannon clearly wanted out of the claustrophobic cab, but she nodded her acknowledgment.
There were no signs of any other survivors in the camp—no telltale smoke from a fire, no fresh tracks in the snow. Of course that didn’t mean that there couldn’t be someone inside any of these buildings. The rumble of the Cat’s engine would have traveled for miles, arriving long before they had and alerting anyone or anything that they were going to have visitors.
Emily climbed the wooden steps up to the entrance and pushed open the door with her shoulder. Leaning inside, she quickly looked over the room. There was a rickety-looking reception desk and a well-worn but comfortable-looking sofa in one corner. A selection of candy bars on a rack in front of the register sat next to a line of mummified sandwiches. Against the farthest wall was a glass-fronted refrigerator with a selection of still-frozen ice cream on one of the shelves. Several liter-size bottles of soda were lined up like soldiers along a metal rack next to the refrigerator.
Emily made her way down the corridor connecting the reception area to the rooms and checked each room one by one.
She settled on the last room at the farthest end of the building. The beds were still made, each with a thick gray blanket. The room was also the farthest from the entrance, so there was only one direction any possible threat could come from, which meant she would be able to sleep a little more comfortably.
Back at the Cat, Emily collected Rhiannon and Thor, along with their supplies, then led them back through the building to their accommodations.
Rhiannon made a face when she saw the wood-lined walls of the tiny room, but she flopped down on the left bed with a huge sigh as though she had been on her feet all day instead of cruising in the comfort of a heated cab, snoozing her way through the majority of the journey.
The room was far too small for them to use the gas cooker safely, so Emily designated the next room down as their kitchen for the evening and set up the gas stove on the floor between the beds in that room. Despite the relative comfort the Cat had afforded them, they were both looking forward to something hot, Emily thought as she heated the stew. They were both tired of the granola bars and bags of chips they had snacked on for most of the journey since leaving Fairbanks. Emily still had a couple of cans of Dinty Moore beef stew that she had been saving, and her mouth began to water at the thought of it, even though the stuff gave her awful gas. Well, she could always blame Thor.
Back in their room, Emily found Rhiannon sitting on the side of her bed. The girl’s head was in her hands and tears rolled down her cheeks, forming a tiny partially frozen pool of spilled emotion between her feet. Thor was sitting next to the girl on the bed, his head in her lap, his eyes fixed on the child.
“Hey?” said Emily, gently setting the bowls of steaming stew on the floor. “What’s wrong, kiddo?” It took Rhiannon a few moments to gather herself before she answered.
“What day is it?” she said.
Emily had to pause for a moment and think. Jeez? She hadn’t given it much thought, but she was pretty sure it was…“Thursday,” she said. “Yeah. It’s a Thursday. Why?”
“But what date…What date is it?”
Emily did some quick math in her head. “It’s the twenty-fourth,” she replied. This apparently was the wrong answer because the girl burst into tears again.
“Hey, hey, hey.” Emily slid in next to the girl, their parkas crackling against each other as she placed her arm around Rhiannon’s shoulder, pulling her close. “What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”
Through a barrage of sniffles and tears Rhiannon turned and looked at Emily. “It’s my birthday,” she said. “Today’s my birthday.”
Emily was taken aback, but after a moment, she leaned in and gave Rhiannon a kiss on the crown of her head. “Happy birthday,” she said, pulling back and smiling as genuinely as she could. “How old are you?”
“Thirteen.”
“Wow! You’re a teenager, kiddo. Congratulations. We have to do something special. Hold on here for a moment.” Emily grabbed the flashlight and headed out of the room, toward the reception area. Pushing through the doors, she shone her light around the darkening room until she found what she was looking for. She pulled open the door to the refrigerator and grabbed a selection of the ice-cream cartons and a liter of Coke to go with it. The Coke was almost ice, but she figured she could squeeze out a glass or so each; it might be a little slushy, but still…
“Here you go, birthday girl,” she said as she reentered the room. “Sorry I don’t have any candles.” She handed the girl a fork from the backpack. “Or clean spoons,” she added with a smile. “You know, the best way to eat ice cream is with a fork anyway. Makes it easier.” To illustrate the point, Emily popped the top off the tub of Strawberry Surprise and scooped a forkful into her mouth.