Brad pulled the binoculars away from his eyes. A dark shadow passed by the hump he identified as belonging to the high school. He caught the smallest glimpse of it before it disappeared behind a snow drift. Brad slung the binoculars and turned his snowmobile in the direction of Route 1. The drifts from all the stores made the road hard to follow, but he preferred that to facing the implied unknown of the momentary shadow he’d just seen.
Fortunately, he kept his speed low and didn’t flip his snowmobile when his ski punched through the crust and hooked a power line. For a second, the line looked like a giant snake. Brad wrestled the sled backwards—not wanting to touch the twisted black cable—until he pulled the ski free from the line.
ONCE HE GOT back on the highway, Brad wound the snowmobile back up to a decent speed. He still slowed for bridges and overpasses, but mostly to check the map and verify his location. The next significant crossing came just a few miles south of Freeport, where the highway crossed over Route 1 in Yarmouth. Here the two roads switched places, with the highway hugging the coast and Route 1 pushing inland for a while. Brad found the location of the overpass, but it didn’t look right—he couldn’t find any drifts marking the buildings he knew in the area. He expected to see at least a big mound to his left, where a map store featured a giant blue globe in the lobby.
Instead, Brad found flat snowfields in both directions. He could see the line of Route 1 trailing north, mostly because it cut through the hills in a straight line, but to the south it just faded into the flatness. A little farther south he found the bridge where the highway crossed the river, and he saw up the river where the other bridges crossed, but aside from the gentle swells and dips of the terrain, he saw no features. Towards the ocean, Brad saw nothing but frozen white plains.
In the middle of the bridge Brad lifted the binoculars. With these he could see dark water—at least one sign that the whole world wasn’t frozen over.
BY MID-AFTERNOON BRAD found himself in Falmouth. He took his time navigating the ramps and overpasses, trying to find the safest way around them. His work was complicated by the diminishing snow. Here he saw the tops of trees poking out from the drifts, and even the peaks of a few houses up on the hill. Where the highway passed close to the marshes, he saw open water not far off the coast. Brad stopped next to a spot where the retreating tide left a muddy bank. He ate lunch while watching the lapping waves.
To his south, Brad saw buildings of Portland—whole buildings—without a trace of snow on them. He took care on the bridges which led into the city. They were covered with just enough snow to make the footing for the snowmobile unstable. He found hardly any crust here, like the ice had given up somewhere around Falmouth.
With the lack of snow, Brad expected to find other signs of life. He kept his eyes peeled for animal tracks, smoke from chimneys, or even birds, but he saw nothing. He slowed down as he entered town. The snow only measured a few inches deep—just barely enough to keep riding the snowmobile without worrying about damage to the skis. Brad killed the engine the first time he heard them scrape.
Brad removed his goggles and took down his hood. The whistling wind blowing across the cove was the only sound he heard. He didn’t see a single car in either direction. The highway was deserted. He stepped off the snowmobile and stood in the middle of the southbound lane of the highway. The few inches of snow was covered with just enough of a crust to not blow away.
He stood at the north end of Maine’s largest city. The city looked intact, but utterly uninhabited. From his position he saw all the tallest buildings of the city. On his right, the city’s muddy cove bordered perfectly still neighborhoods.
Brad started walking.
He followed the highway down to a grocery store. He still carried plenty of provisions, but he wasn’t looking for food. He was looking for signs of human activity. He approached the store through the adjacent park, stopping at a bench to use his binoculars. Someone had broken out the window next to the door. Brad approached cautiously. He found various footprints leading in and out of the store, but most of the prints seemed to belong to one set of shoes, slightly smaller than his own.
The store was dark inside. When he turned on his headlamp, Brad found the fist-sized rock inside the circle of broken glass. A cart, flipped on its side, lay past the rock. He wrinkled his nose as he stepped carefully over the glass. Even with the cold, aisles of past-due perishables assaulted his senses. Brad took a quick tour through the store. In the realm of canned goods, he found a couple of shelves which looked suspiciously empty. The store’s inventory of soup, beans, sauce, and canned vegetables had been hit hard. The baking supplies looked fully stocked.
On the other side of the store, Brad found the chips, snacks, and other junk food diminished as well. He grabbed a couple of items for himself, stuffed them in his big pack, and then exited. The footprints led to tire tracks.
At the end of the parking lot, the tracks headed off in various directions. Brad picked a direction and walked down the tire tracks. The snow crunched under his feet and he whistled a tune to go with the rhythm. Under a dead traffic signal, the tracks split up again, heading in all three directions.
“You’ve been busy,” Brad said to the tracks. He crouched to study them further. It looked like the vehicle had only gone straight through the intersection once, to the left a couple of times, and the majority of trips had gone to the right. Except for his own, he saw no footprints to go along with the tire tracks.
Brad took a right and walked down the middle of the road. Local businesses and office buildings flanked him on either side. He walked between a set of fast food restaurants, and rubbed his stomach through his jacket.
He interrupted his whistling for another comment to nobody—“Oh, what I wouldn’t give for a hot burger right now. Give me a large fry, no, two, and a large shake,” he said.
At the next block the tracks branched again. Brad stopped and turned in a slow circle.
“I get it,” he said. “You don’t want me to know where you’re going, so you’ve gone everywhere. Is that it? Either that or you’ve got business in every part of town. Well I know one place you’ve visited quite a few times.”
Brad left the main drag and wound down side streets until he came up behind a house which faced a grocery store. He stood on the front porch for several minutes. The brick porch featured pretty, understated columns holding up a solid roof. The panes on either side of the door were frosted, but by kneeling on the porch swing Brad could see into the living room. The house looked clean and spare. Under-stuffed furniture sat on oriental area rugs and hardwood floors. The walls and trim were white, but the moldings had a fancy, old-school design.
Brad went back to the door and cocked his elbow to break through the glass panel next to the door handle. He couldn’t do it. He felt compelled to knock first. Brad knocked and then stood there, looking around to make sure he was still alone, feeling foolish while he waited to see if anyone would answer.
“Okay,” he whispered, “I’m breaking in.”
He tapped the glass and then lined his elbow up. His eye landed on rocks lining one of the flower beds right next to the porch. Brad smiled as he fetched a rock.
“No sense ripping my new jacket,” he said as he got ready to smash the window with the rock.
Before he thrust the rock forward, he reached out with his right hand and tried the handle. The door opened and swung inward.
“I’ll be damned,” he said. Brad pitched the rock back into the yard.
He left the door open a crack. The temperature was lower inside the house than out. He took a quick tour of the first floor—nice dining room, living room, kitchen, bathroom, den. When he made it back to the entry, he climbed up to the second floor. Upstairs he found bedrooms and bathrooms. The house had nice views of the cove and the city in the distance. Out front the maples would block most of it in the summer time, but this time of year they would have a glittering view of the city lights every night.