He was on the other side of the snow-covered pot field, and decided to go around the camp, rather than heading back through it.
Visibility was low. The snow was getting high. James didn’t have boots, just the high-top sneakers he’d worn to school. Snow was getting into them now, and his feet were freezing.
Max had lectured them on the dangers of frostbite. James could almost hear Max’s voice now, telling him that he’d already made one mistake today. The important thing, Max would have said, is not to make another.
James decided to head straight back to camp, rather than going out to check on the snare.
James could hardly see anything. He hoped he was heading in the right direction. He knew it’d be easy to get turned around in this snow. He wondered briefly whether this would count as a blizzard or not.
As far as James was concerned, it was a blizzard. And what was a “blizzard,” after all, but a technical classification that the television weather people slapped onto a storm.
A snowstorm was a snowstorm. It was either mild, bad, or severe. What you called it didn’t really matter.
Up ahead, in the wall of white snow, something suddenly appeared.
James stopped dead in his tracks.
It was a person. Standing there in the snow.
James could just see the person’s outline. And the outline of some type of rifle.
Was it a friend or enemy?
James didn’t have a rifle with him, and he suddenly felt naked without one. But he had the handgun that had originally come from the gate guards at the compound. It had a full magazine in it. Eight cartridges. But he didn’t have a spare mag with him.
James cursed himself again.
Should he wave? Shout something? Or simply retreat?
He couldn’t simply open fire. After all, it could have been Max or Mandy.
If he got closer, he’d be just as visible to the unknown person as they were to him.
Suddenly, the figure saw him. It turned towards James and shouted something. James couldn’t make out the words over the wind. But he heard the voice. And it wasn’t a voice he recognized. The sound was completely foreign, completely different.
He was sure that it wasn’t one of his friends or family.
Positive.
James acted without thinking.
He already had his handgun out and ready.
The man kept shouting. He lowered his gun, pointing it towards James.
Another figure suddenly appeared.
The shouting, the new person—it was all chaotic. It was all happening so fast.
It would have been easy to freak out. To lose his cool. His brain was running fast and wildly.
But James didn’t let it get to him. He resistant the urge to lose control. Nothing would interfere with his aim more than letting it all get to him.
He took careful aim with his handgun.
He squeezed the trigger twice.
The first man fell.
The second aimed his gun.
More shouting. James didn’t hear the words. It was just noise.
James’s ears were ringing from the gunshots. Everything was even more muffled than before.
The wind was stronger. A powerful gust hit James in the back, almost knocking him over.
James didn’t think. He just acted.
He dashed off, sprinting away from the men.
James heard the gunshots behind him. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t pause.
He ran as fast as he could. The wind was behind him now, seeming to urge him on, faster and faster.
For all James knew, there were more than just two men. If he didn’t get away from them, he was as good as dead. He was outgunned and he knew it. He’d gotten a better look at the rifle. It wasn’t a mere hunting rifle. No, it was something semi-automatic for sure.
James clutched the handgun tightly as he ran. If he let it fall, it’d be lost forever in the high snow.
It was hard running. His footing never felt stable. Any moment he might make a misstep, since he couldn’t see the ground.
It happened. His sneaker hit something hard. Maybe a root. He didn’t know. It didn’t matter.
James fell hard, falling forward. His face hit the snow, which cushioned his fall.
There was shouting behind him. That meant there was more than one man. Probably. It sounded like someone was shouting orders, by the tone of the voice.
James couldn’t lie there. Or he’d be dead.
He found the ground beneath the snow, and pushed against it. Hard, so as to turn himself over.
James was on his back. There wasn’t time to get up. Not yet.
Rapidly, he brushed his hand across his face, getting the snow off his eyes.
The first thing he saw was two figures approaching.
A gust of wind blew in, sending a torrent of icy snow into the air, briefly obscuring the figures.
7
“You don’t think they’ve been gone a long time?” said John.
“Quit worrying already,” said Cynthia. “We’re new here. We don’t know how things operated.”
“We’ve been here a week already,” said John. “And don’t tell me I don’t know my own brother.”
“You said yourself you barely spoke to him in the last ten years. Or was it didn’t speak at all? I don’t remember.”
“You’ve really got a way with words,” said John.
“Sorry,” said Cynthia. “I just get a little sarcastic when I get stressed.”
“Oh yeah?” said John. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Very funny,” said Cynthia. “But it has been a long time. What do you think we should do?”
John shrugged his shoulders.
John and Cynthia were standing at the edge of the camp, looking out into the blizzard.
“This is a blizzard, right?”
“I guess so,” said John. “Sure looks like one.”
“I’m freezing,” said Cynthia. “I’m going back in the tent.”
“It’s not much warmer in there.”
“Whatever. It’s better than this.”
John watched Cynthia’s back as she disappeared into the white mist of snow. You couldn’t even see from one end of the camp to the other.
What was surprising to John wasn’t just the snow, but how fast it had come on. Just this morning, when Max and Mandy had left camp, there had only been the clouds. Not a single snowflake had yet landed.
John shivered in the cold. Max and Mandy, out there somewhere, must have really been freezing. He hoped they were OK. He didn’t like the idea of finally finding his brother and then losing him again. Maybe he was just worrying too much. Maybe the circumstances were making him worry.
John decided to go check in with Georgia. Despite her injury, she seemed like the most capable of everyone there. She seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. It was lucky Max had found her, from the sound of the stories he’d heard.
It had taken John a few days to get everyone’s names right. For so long, it had mostly just been himself and Cynthia. Now there were all these new faces. Until a few days ago, John hadn’t realized that Jake and Rose were actually just as new to the group as he and Cynthia were.
Unfortunately, Jake and Rose actually didn’t seem like they’d be much help in any situation at all. They seemed to have been added to the group by default. Almost by accident. It didn’t mean they were bad people. In fact, they were almost overwhelmingly friendly and open, considering the circumstances.
But they weren’t who John would turn to now.
Georgia was in the tent, resting in the corner. Her eyes were half-closed, and she seemed somewhere between sleep and wakefulness.
She nodded at John as he entered.
“Close the flap,” said Cynthia, glaring at the snow that blew inside, along with a gust of frigid air. “You’re letting all the heat out.”
“There’s no heat in here,” said John. He looked at Georgia. “Georgia,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you for a minute.”