Age of Winter Read online

They beat feet, but the storm raged on, warning them. The sky lightened back to an unnatural green and the hairs on his arms stood up. Colton was flagging even though they were not even half way there and he had to slow to a walk.

  “How far…” He tried to catch his breath. “How far was the shock last time, you think?

  Kandace shook her head. “I dunno. M-maybe one mile more is where it stops. Can you d-do it?”

  He shook his head. His side was cramped. “I’m hurting.’”

  Kandace put out a hand. “Give me the medicine.”

  “What?”

  “In c-case. Give it to me and I’ll go. That way, if you get hit, they still g-get help.”

  Colton squinted at her.

  “Come on,” she said desperately. “If they were my f-friends I’d want them to have chance. Don’t you?”

  Could he trust her? She had trusted him.

  “I’ll give you half,” he said and didn’t miss the hurt expression that crossed her face, but Kandace agreed.

  She waited patiently as he dug out half the meds and he handed her the bag. With one glance of sadness, Kandace took off and was gone in a flash towards the highway. Colton wanted to chase her, but he was wheezing, his breath coming in sharp gasps that made his sides hurt like he’d broken a rib.

  Colton’s body forced him to sit right where he was. It was spent. Lack of proper rest, lack of a decent meal, it all was catching up right at this moment.

  He glanced up when he heard a noise through the howling wind. It was Rex. The dog rushed to his side and packed underneath his arm. He whined and nudged Colton, begging him to move.

  “Just give me a moment, buddy. I’ll be right as rain here shortly.”

  A moment turned into minutes, and a minute turned into a half hour at least before he managed to drag himself to his feet and walk. Each step was fresh hell, but he needed to make it out of the zone when the storm peaked.

  Rex danced around his legs, worried but loyal. Colton felt a tingle and he froze. The lightning flashed, and a boom struck the earth loud enough to shatter an eardrum.

  Colton bent over with a shout, covering his ears.

  Rex cowered next to him as the tingling increased. Colton pulled a hand away, though it practically killed him, and he grabbed the dog by the scruff of his neck. “Go!” he roared to be heard over the rising storm.

  The sound of a thousand trains rushing through was too loud to be heard by the human ear, but Rex heard Colton and the dog glanced at the direction Kandace had gone and back again with a focused expression. “That’s right!” Colton said, close to Rex’s head. “Go! Now!”

  He shoved the dog hard enough to make the dog stumble and glance back, then Rex listened and hightailed it out of there.

  When Rex was out of sight, a strange smell hit Colton in the back of his throat. A singed, burning hair smell. He realized the current was affecting him.

  He rose, staggered towards the highway.

  Three steps in, the boom struck, knocking him back off his feet, and Colton flew into the asphalt. Everything sizzled with heat that stripped him raw, and then whiteness filled his vision before nothingness.

  Chapter Two

  Nogales, Arizona

  Even if Luckman closed his eyes really hard, he still woke up in the nightmare. If he could pinch himself, he bet it would still hurt, but not nearly as bad as the scratchy noose around his neck that was already so tight that he couldn’t swallow or speak. The men who were going to murder him stood in a row in front of the house. And of course, Holtz was right up front, bearing witness to his execution. It made Luckman wonder if Joseph and Josephine would have died if he’d not asked for their help. If somehow Holtz had found Luckman on purpose.

  The dead officers had been laid out after being strung up. They were left cold and waiting to be buried in an unmarked grave, and Luckman hated to think about he would be next. He hated to think about how no one would even know where he was buried, or care. He didn’t have to imagine the worst, he was living it. And he never thought he’d see the day where he wished he’d died before in the freeze, but here he was.

  Kent came forward. The heel of one boot scuffing the dirt as he walked. Adrenaline pulsed through Luckman, making him notice nuance like that. Kent gave Luckman a once over with a strange expression on his face. It seemed he did indeed regret putting an innocent man to death but must have felt it had to be done for some ungodly reason. Perhaps to scare his men into line. Perhaps Kent felt that the new world order needed a demented sort of brutality. Whatever it was, he’d aligned himself with the likes of Holtz, and there was nothing noble about it. There was no “Greater good” in this action, no matter how he spun the idea. There would be no justice today.

  Kent signaled impatiently. “Loosen this,” he snapped, obviously irritated that Luckman could only bug his eyes back at him, unblinking. That the noose was too tight to speak.

  When they did, Luckman sucked in a deep breath, but he couldn’t rub his throat like he desperately wanted to, because his hands were tied.

  Luckman gagged and spat before finally Kent asked, “Any last words?”

  Luckman nodded, still trying to catch his breath. Still trying to think of the one thing that would change this mad man’s mind. But every time he thought up some speech about humanity or prepared to spout the guilt trip to end all guilt trips, his mind went blank with fear and irrationality. The only thing he could come up with was begging for his life, and that seemed like a sad way to go. Still…

  “Please.” Luckman plead quietly into the silence. “You don’t have to do this.”

  A desperate but valid point. Luckman’s thoughts were too disjointed with anxiety and such a high level of fear that he did not shake, but rather felt out of body with apprehension, as if somehow, he floated above, watching the scene from afar.

  Kent scratched his cheek. “Oh. But that’s where you’re wrong, partner.” He sighed and turned to his men. The bubble of possibilities burst when Kent signaled, and the horses started forward, the noose pulling taut once more.

  “Wait!” Luckman shouted, helpless to struggle. “Wait!”

  Kent glanced back but scuffed onward to his spot, just off center in front of the group. The leader stood his ground as the rope tightened, unmoved by the pleas of Luckman.

  The noose gripped Luckman harshly by the tender part of his throat. His eyes watered, turning everything blurry as the horses hoisted him unceremoniously high up off the ground when they danced forward in a jig.

  Once there, he swung, his legs kicking, his feet stretching, pointing downward as if they could find purchase. His eyes felt pressure behind them that could only be described as skull numbing, except without the numbing part. Even his cheeks burned from the pressure of being strained beyond what a body was capable of.

  His neck twisted painfully as he went side to side, and his vision blurred at the edges when the breath his body demanded did not come after three seconds…after five….then ten….fifteen.

  The darkness was easier than watching the blurred figures below who stood stock still, waiting for his death. Wanting it. Cheering silently for the end.

  For him to give up.

  But had he done so before now?

  And that’s when it hit him. Insanity. He would laugh if he’d the breath for it. Because in that moment, the final one, all he could think was that he could not die in this way, the Killing cold wouldn’t let that happen.

  It had not claimed him, and it wouldn’t let some flimsy rope do it instead.

  Could be the lack of oxygen, he thought. Could be all of the days in the wilderness coming to a head. The post-traumatic stress----sure, that was it. No matter what it was, he felt to his bones that the killing cold was not finished with him yet. It had not arrived since he’d landed in the U.S, and therefore, Luckman could not die hanging. He would not die falling down a cliff. He would not die being shot by cowboys in the new-old west. Not without the cold taking its final piece of him.
/>   But then again…

  Dying…he was.

  **

  The pop of sound was distant. As if Luckman was suspended in molasses and slowly moving through a dream. With a sudden jolt, a movement jerked him from the feeling. The sense of painfully being slammed by something as big as a planet disturbed the grogginess.

  And he was slammed by a planet, or rather, he slammed into one. Earth. Luckman had fallen hard on his side, the rope now slack around him like a lifeless snake. He was disoriented, unsure if he was really free or actually dead and released in the only way he’d hoped to be. Even with the rope loose about his heck, he couldn’t breathe.

  He struggled to stuff wind down his windpipe, but no more than a whistle of slight easing could be forced inside his lungs. Luckman’s hands were still tied, and he laid on his side fighting for every bit of oxygen through his swollen throat.

  There, gasping like a fish out of water, Luckman could only watch what could be described as glorious chaos. A large man was raging in front of the house, gun in hand, cutting down everything in his path.

  Luckman’s vision cleared to a welcome sight: German.

  The big Russian stood near the front door with a rifle in one hand and a pistol in the other. Boom. He shot one of Kent’s men off his feet with deadly aim. Boom, boom, he shot another and another until they scattered for cover, realizing he wasn’t going to miss his mark.

  An angel of vengeance, German’s shirt was in tatters, still ripped open to administer bandages that were even now soaked in his own blood. Eyes wide and wild, hair overgrown and sticking out in tufts, he was a terrifying vision. Too big and too mad with rage to be anything but a menace to Kent and his crew. They were scurrying away like rats into the corn.

  And the men were too stunned to gun him down when they should have, and so German had, indeed, already taken out a handful by the time Luckman was coming to his senses, including one of the riders who’d held the rope to Luckman’s noose.

  Even without his breath, Luckman knew he had to help his friend. Though he’d held the element of surprise, German’s luck would run out in no time.

  Luckman gasped for air, crawling on hands and knees towards the horse nearest to him. Its rider was laying on the ground almost under the hooves on his side, blood trickling from his mouth, eyes vacant.

  Luckman got close before rolling over then he pulled a knife from the man’s belt and began working on his bindings. “Let me help you,” a familiar frantic voice said from behind. Cal was there, staying low. He cut Luckman free, and Luckman reached for his throat. Air was getting into his lungs, but it wasn’t enough.

  Luckman managed to pull the gun off the dead man. Cal grabbed a second and they turned and fired without careful aim at the few who hid on their side of the yard from German. Those few were pinned now between both sides.

  It was a blood bath in their favor. Cal shot one hiding behind a cactus, and Luckman shot two of Kent’s other men before he joined him while scanning the area. Luckman was looking for two specific persons. Neither were in the clearing.

  “Lucky!” German bellowed from the yard, noticing the area where his friend had been was now empty. German rushed towards the opening. “Lucky!” The big Russian stumbled around like an angry, wounded bear as Luckman tried to answer.

  “Over here!” Cal shouted, realizing Luckman couldn’t speak.

  German strode over, not bothering with cover as if he were invisible, and maybe he was. Luckman smiled despite himself when German finally spotted him. He smiled because he was obviously insane, but also, the killing cold wasn’t quite done with German either, it seemed. He’d been right.

  German rushed to his side, pale, but unharmed. He was worried about Luckman who was still struggling to breathe. “I’ll kill them. I’ll kill the bastards,” German growled, glancing around. “How did we get here, Lucky? How did I go to sleep in a cave and wake up in hell? What about the cold? It’s here, isn’t it?”

  As if he spoke prophecy, the sky opened up and rain fell. Quickly, it turned into snow, and the flakes fell quicker and quicker covering the ground in seconds.

  German glanced at Luckman who nodded. He didn’t have to say it, the cold was arriving from the south. What would happen when it converged with the north?

  “We have to get somewhere else,” German said, and Luckman nodded again.

  Together, the three of them rose, and German grabbed the horse that stood nearby. He helped Luckman and Cal get on board. With the battle paused momentarily---some had retreated to the house, and others were hiding in the desert, Luckman’s energy waned. He slumped over the pommel, coughing, trying to breathe through his raw throat. Specks of blood dotted the leather, and he wiped it away before German saw. “Do you know how to ride?” Cal asked German and German shrugged as he latched onto the reins of the second horse. He climbed into the saddle, sitting at an angle, but uncaring.

  Clapping his heels into his horse, German hooked his arm around the horn of the saddle to keep from falling off as Cal kicked their horse to follow. “Where are we going?” Cal called to German, but German’s horse was going faster and faster down the road.

  It dawned on Luckman, who was just along for the ride, that German might have lost control of the animal. And German, like Luckman, didn’t care where they went as long as it was away. Away from the murderous cowboy gang, and away from the freeze.

  They should have headed for town, but instead, the horses had curved sharply around and behind the house towards the desert and canyons at the base of the ranch’s acreage.

  Cal muttered from behind Luckman, “What in the hell?”

  But he might as well have said “hail.” “What in the hail”, because dangerous ice was raining down now, giant snowballs the size of golf balls.

  Luckman could barely hold on, and the world moved around him in a blur. Cal’s voice was distant when he said, “Hey. Hold on, Lucky. Don’t fall asleep… I can’t keep…”

  Luckman didn’t remember the rest. He managed to say in a half-conscious state, and on the horse, but that’s about it. The horses climbed a ridge he could feel, and then they went downward. Down and down, into a canyon. Luckman wanted to tell them they were going the wrong way, but the horses were so determined that it was anyone’s guess if they actually had the smart idea. The sky turned dark, and the sun fled, banished from the desert.

  Hail pounded the earth, some smaller pieces bouncing off Luckman’s head and shoulders. He focused on the horse’s neck as it rose and fell with its gait. The ears, too, were pricked forward as the animal eagerly followed its herd-mate. It even called a few times in the darkness.

  It was dim as a night with barely any moonlight by the time the horses evened out, trotting in the bottom of the canyon with a clip clop sound that was being drowned out by the hail. Thunder rumbled, and the temperature dropped. The sharp cold brought Luckman to full wakefulness and he stirred. Cal had on hand on Luckman’s collar as if along the way he’d nearly tumbled off. Perhaps he’d almost done so.

  “It’s a cave!” German cried as his horse finally seemed to listen to him. “The horse brought us to a giant cave!”

  The mouth of it was big enough to build a shed inside. The horses easily stepped into it, and then kept going. Luckman got a full breath shoved deep in his lungs as relief struck him.

  German pulled his horse up. He dismounted and came over and helped Luckman down. Luckman tried to push him away, but German gave him a stern glance. “You helped me, friend. Now let me help you.”

  Luckman let German help him down and they stood at the mouth of the cave watching the storm increase, what little they could see. “I was right. It’s here, isn’t it?” German asked, and Luckman nodded.

  Cal glanced at German in question, but he gave no answer. Luckman thought about all of the people in town. People they could still save. But how? Warn them of the death that was coming and then watch them freeze? Outwardly, he hung onto German to stay standing, but inwardly he was panick
ing.

  The wind howled, and German left Luckman with Cal to search the packs. “I found a tin of beans in here and some jerky.”

  Cal sat Luckman down, and he started packing a canteen with snow. “To melt,” he said. “For later.” He then searched his bags. “Matches!” he shouted, and it echoed in the cave. He moved around the cave, gathering some dry tumbleweeds.

  Cal and German helped Luckman to his feet and walked him deeper into the cave, but not deep enough that they couldn’t see the opening. “In case those idiots followed,” German had said.

  Cal made a small fire and it was then that Luckman realized his fingers and toes were frozen solid. He held them up to the fire, trying uselessly to clear his throat. Nothing was lodged in there like it felt; it was just swollen and tender. He’d hung from the neck about to die, and German had saved his life. And now, they’d die anyway. The cold was there, and he wasn’t going to beat it this time.

  The wind cut off, but the horses moved nervously as if they knew what was coming.

  “What?” Cal asked, glanced between German and Luckman. “Why do you keep sharing strange looks? What’s going on?”

  “Do you want to tell him, or should I?” German asked, motioning at Luckman with sarcasm knowing he couldn’t speak.

  Luckman shot him a dirty look and moved his hands in a gesture that wasn’t proper for mixed company. German bellowed out a laugh before he turned to Cal. “The cold has been following us from Antarctica. We have traveled from there to warn the states, but we were too late. It’s here, and there is nothing we can do now.”

  Cal eyed him with suspicion before slanting a glance at Luckman. “You buying this?”

  German sniffed. “Lucky was the one who saw it first. He was there when it was… born, I supposed you can say. The very first time the Killing Cold came and struck was his team.” German’s eyes grew distant and sad. Like Luckman, he was seeing it all as he described the events in great detail. “The plane crashed,” he ended, and the silence in the cave stretched wide, swallowing them hole.