Freezing Point (After the Shift Book 1) Page 4
Saber barked her agreement.
Orange had fallen back a little as he unhooked his own AR-15 to join the assault with his co-scavenger.
Nathan saw the sign for the Singing Meadows retail park up ahead, and gingerly toed the gas pedal to give them an extra chunk of speed. The pines on the side of the highway seemed to close in as they whizzed past with increasing velocity. In the mirror, Orange gunned the Ski-Doo. He was fixing to take his first shot and Yellow-black his second.
The Dodge was a good thirty or forty seconds from the off-ramp, and Nathan was going to have to try something else to distract these pursuers if they were going to make it in one piece.
He checked the mirror, the road ahead, and then the mirror again as the scavengers aimed. Nathan’s hands tightened on the wheel.
Except, suddenly, he couldn’t turn the wheel… it was locked. He looked down and saw that Syd’s hand had snaked out and grabbed it. “Don’t,” she said, “let me handle it.”
She was winding down her window with her other hand and the rush of cold air screamed into the cab. Syd let go of the wheel, knelt up in her seat, and stuck her head and gun arm out the window—aiming behind them.
She fired three shots.
“Hey!” Nathan protested. “You said you didn’t have any ammo!”
“I lie!” she yelled, squeezing off two more. “You’ll get used to it!”
In the mirror, Nathan saw the Ski-Doos slam on the anchors and scream to a halt in a welter of spray. Syd’s shots hadn’t injured them, but they were wary enough to break off their attack for the moment.
“They’re not finished with us,” she said, “and now I really am out of ammo.”
“How do you know they’re not finished with us?”
Syd looked away and hissed with irritation, “It doesn’t matter right now how I know. I just do.”
Nathan could see that he wasn’t going to get any more out of her right now.
But later, he vowed to himself, he would make it his business to find out what she did know about the assholes who’d tried to kill him.
Twice.
They ran towards the mall’s fire exit door, Syd looking back wildly and Saber running at her heels. Nathan smashed his tire iron down onto the door lock, ripping it from the wood so that the door swung open.
They just made it inside the vast abandoned space as three rounds from an AR-15 burst the door frame around their ears. Saber barked as Syd threw herself to the floor, skidding and then sprawling over the damp tiles.
Nathan pulled the door closed behind him and used the tire iron to wedge the bar mechanism closed. It wouldn’t hold back anyone who was really determined to get into the mall, but it might give them time to find somewhere to hide. That done, Nathan reached down to help Syd up and they ran into the half-light.
The Ski-Doo bandits hadn’t held back for long. They’d seen that Syd had stopped firing and had gunned their mounts back up to full speed. They’d had no chance of hitting the wrecker’s tires because they’d been too far behind, but Nathan had realized Syd’s bullets had only bought them a few minutes’ respite, so he’d hauled the wrecker down the off-ramp, spun around the cloverleaf, and floored the Dodge into the mall’s parking lot, figuring that getting into the mall and going to ground might give them a chance to avoid a fight.
Yup. Got that one wrong.
They’d had just enough time to leap from the cab and head to the fire doors before the blatter of the Ski-Doos skimming across the parking lot had been punctuated by the harsh crack of AR-15 ammunition tearing into the tarmac. They’d gotten to the door just in time.
The mall had been abandoned since before Christmas. No one had been expecting it to open again, and so no power had been left on to run the heaters or keep the stores from succumbing to the damp and cold. There were drifts of snow in the central aisle of the three-story building and, as he ran, Nathan looked up to the glass roof, sixty feet above. Where the weight of snow and ice was being held back by some panes, some glass had cracked and other panes had broken through completely.
The building had the feel of an echoey old cathedral, like St Patrick’s in New York, which he’d visited like a gawping tourist with his daddy—but this place was dark, freezer-chilled and crackling with underfoot ice.
A persistent showering of droplets pattered down from above like indoor rain, and their breath clouded torturously in the iron light as they ran. At least, where the glass was broken, what illumination was left in the rapidly darkening sky gave them some idea of their surroundings.
“We need to find somewhere to hide,” Nathan grunted out as they ran.
“No good to just hide. They’ll track us by our footprints across the floor. We need to find somewhere that we can not just defend, but hit back from. They don’t give up.”
Nathan looked at Syd with wide eyes. “You know these guys?”
Syd nodded, breathing hard. “You could say that.”
But she didn’t have time to elaborate as, thirty yards behind them, the fire exit door was unzipped down the middle by a volley of AR-15 rounds.
Syd broke away from Nathan and ran for a rain-slick stairway leading up to the next level. Saber barked and shot ahead of her, bounding up the stairs like a fur missile. Nathan followed, breath hot in his throat and his pounding feet at all times threatened by the floor skidding away under him.
The next level showed two rows of stores which, back when the mall had been open, had been small boutique businesses with a local flavor, plus a food court. It had been Cyndi’s favorite section of the mall. You could buy anything from kids’ toys to a celebration cake, get kitted out for a wedding, or buy a TV or fishing gear.
Now the once bright storefronts were dark and unwelcoming. Some had shutters pulled down while others were simply open spaces that spoke of hasty abandonment. Display cases overturned; smashed piles of frosted glass. Naked mannequins lay surrounded by spaghettis of electrical wires hanging from the ceiling. Cannibalized light fittings ripped down and shipped out.
The cold seemed bitterer here, too, even with the exertion from running. It pressed against his face, needling his eyes. He felt the shiver of it in his bones.
Maybe it was fear. I don’t want to die today.
Syd and Saber ran past the wrecked stores and Nathan struggled to keep up, so lithe and speedy were the girl and her dog. At the end of the expanse of cream-colored tiled floor, at the head of the food court, there was a sorry looking McDonald’s concession front. The ‘M’ sign was hanging down at an angle, pictures of food still above the counter going green with mold and, in the dark depths of the kitchen area, steel ranges and refrigerators gleaming dully.
Syd leapt the counter and Saber followed.
Nathan was about to vault the same counter when bullets spat out around him, smashing into the counter and chewing up the tiles. Yellow-black and Orange had already made up considerable ground and were on the same level, their murderous intentions clear.
Nathan lunged sideways, avoiding the counter and running on to the next store entrance. The area in front of it had been a dining court where he, Cyndi, and Tony had had many a burger or hefty cheese-covered jacketed spud, and the memories showing up against the sounds of bullets were surreal.
Is this my life flashing before my eyes? Nathan thought bitterly as he dived behind a desk that still held an electronic cash register beside an overturned chair. Because if it is, I want a better last thought than a greasy burger!
He could hear Yellow-black and Orange running down towards the McDonald’s. Even behind the desk, hunkered down as tiny as he could make his taut-muscled frame, he felt exposed and vulnerable. Nathan kicked himself for not just running to the back of the concession area like Syd had done next door, but it seemed to be too late if he wanted to remain out of view. He’d blindly taken the first piece of cover that had presented itself—which would of course be the first place Orange and Yellow-black would look as soon as they came around the corner.
Nathan made up his mind to run for the kitchen. There would be more cover, and there might be a back entrance into the service corridors of the mall.
He stood up, but before he took even one step, three things happened in quick succession. Nathan heard the rustle of someone raising their arms, the spit of a bullet, and Saber’s deep-throated growl.
Two bullets tore into the cash register, having been meant for Nathan’s head, and he looked back as someone, a man, screamed a sickening yell of fear and pain.
One of the Ski-Doo bandits, who Nathan decided was Orange based on the blur of color, was on the floor writhing, trying to stop Saber from chewing through his wrist. His ski-masked face was stretched and screaming. Yellow-black appeared moments later, cycling his legs and throwing up his arms as he was pushed back by a six-foot-tall, steel catering refrigerator that sported bullet holes right across its door.
The refrigerator, on wheels for easy movement, was being barreled along by Syd from behind, and she was using it as perfect cover, moving too fast for Yellow-black to get his feet beneath him and get out of its way.
Syd gave another hard shove and Yellow-black fell backward and crashed to the floor, his AR-15 skittering out of his reach.
Nathan took his chance, picked up the cash register, and stalked towards the stricken scavenger. From two yards out, careful not to hit Saber, he threw the register with every ounce of strength at Orange’s head.
The corner of the machine bounced into his skull, and Orange, who’d been trying to get the purchase to sit up and punch at the dog, went down like a fifty-pound sack of potatoes.
Yellow reached for the AR-15, but Syd was too fast for him; she reached down, put her hands under the steel casing of the refrigerator, and toppled it over so that it crashed onto Yellow-black, spread-eagling him like he was living in a cartoon.
“Get the other gun!” Syd yelled, picking up the AR-15 Yellow-black had dropped.
Nathan bent down by Orange, who was unconscious to the world. He picked up his AR-15 and yanked a Glock from the ski-masked asshole’s belt.
“Score!” Syd yelled upon seeing the pistol. “Saber! Heel!”
“Let’s get out of here,” Nathan said.
“Yes. Let’s!” Syd replied with the widest possible grin.
Damn. She’s enjoying this.
They made it back to the wrecker with no incident other than Syd insisting that they should trawl the rest of the mall to acquire any ammo left behind for the guns—she’d been followed by Nathan, threatening to carry her out if she didn’t calm down and stop riding her adrenaline like a surfboard.
Nathan had many questions for Syd, especially regarding what she’d known of Orange and Yellow-black before that day. She knew enough about these guys to say she thought they wouldn’t give up. Had she been running with them and fallen foul of their sensibilities? Or had she some other reason to know so much…?
Either way, Nathan needed answers.
He just hoped to hell this wasn’t leading up to him finding out she’d been one of the three bandits who’d attacked him, Freeson, and Art up on Algonquin Ridge.
Finally, they burst out from the mall, exiting through the same door they’d entered. Syd was still bitching about ammo, but Nathan’s resolve was set.
He opened the Dodge cab door. “Get in. With the dog.”
Syd hesitated, looking back at the mall with hungry eyes.
“What?” Nathan asked.
“I should have shot them. Both of them.”
Society had plunged off a cliff in the Big Winter, but no way was Nathan ready to start becoming judge, jury, and executioner. Syd seemed way past that. Nathan pushed her up towards the passenger seat. “Under the driver’s seat, there’s a canvas roll. Pass it to me.”
“What did your last slave die of?”
“Just do it.”
There’d been times in the last hour or so where Syd had seemed wise beyond her years, someone who had lived far too much life in too short a time. Here she was, after saying she wished she’d executed the scavengers, going on to acting like a preteen full of belligerent attitude. She was a conundrum, for sure. Good to have in a fight, but bad to have in a kitchen if it was her turn to wash up. He still couldn’t tell how old she really was, but Nathan was sure that whichever number he picked would be the wrong one. Best to roll with it. For now.
Syd rummaged under the seat and passed the package she pulled out to Nathan. He took it and jogged away from the wrecker.
“Hey! I thought we didn’t have any time? You’d be a lot more fun if you were consistent, you know!”
“We’ve got enough time for this!” he yelled back at her.
Nathan had already reached the scavengers’ Ski-Doos. He wasn’t prepared to commit murder, but he was happy to kill their machines. He pulled off his gloves with his teeth, exposing his fingers to the bitter cold in the air. He immediately felt the burn in his knuckles, but his determination carried him on. Putting the gloves under his arms and unwrapping the roll, Nathan pulled out a jagged-bladed Bowie. With two quick movements, he cut the starter power cords on both machines and stuffed them into the pocket of his anorak.
Then he popped the back catch on both machines, lifted the black, wedge seats in turn, and dipped into each Ski-Doo’s trunk. Both machines carried the standard-issue tool kit that came with purchase; six inches of vinyl roll containing a selection of flat wrenches, a screwdriver, a spark plug socket, and a starter tool. Nathan had fixed enough Ski-Doos in his auto shop to know that every snowmobile came with a line of flex and plastic hook that could be improvised to start the engine if the power cord broke out on the trail. He took both kits and put them inside his anorak, too.
That would occupy Orange and Yellow-black long enough for him to get the Dodge far enough away from the mall that they’d find it impossible to pick up the trail, especially if the oncoming storm dumped a ton more snow on the town.
He pulled his gloves back on and headed back towards the Dodge. For the first time in a while, Nathan felt on top of the situation.
It was a good feeling.
It lasted all but three steps, as the mood was immediately shattered. Syd called to Nathan from the cab, near panic stuffed into her voice. “Hey, mister, there’s some woman on your CB! She’s saying your home is under attack!”
4
“What did she say?” Nathan slammed the door of the cab, sliding into the driver’s seat and firing up the engine. Bile washed its sickness up from his throat and across his tongue, panic tugging at his guts.
“She just said there were… I think she called them scavengers, surrounding the house with Ski-Doos. Then the channel went dead.”
Nathan shoved the wrecker into gear and spun the tires around on their snow chains. The cab was still iron-cold even though the doors were closed, but Nathan was hot with fear and horror. While he’d been having a fight in the mall he hadn’t needed to be having, Cyndi and Tony were in danger. He could have just stayed home.
Family first.
Nathan rounded the cloverleaf with fishtailing skids, his wrecker’s engine growling and his heart near bursting. When he reached a straight section of snowy highway, he took the CB microphone from the dash, twirling the mic gain knob fully around. “Cyndi? You there, come back?”
All that greeted him was a mush of static and the sense that his whole world was sliding inexorably into the john. Who was attacking his house? He and Syd had dealt with the scavengers and their Ski-Doos at the mall. Could there be another group already in Glens Falls? Was there a tide of bandits heading north from New York City, about to overrun what remained of their community?
The consequences didn’t bear thinking about.
He drove hard and tried to take st
ock as he went, clearing his mind. They had a Glock, two AR-15s, Syd’s empty pistol, and a dog who knew how to fight. It wasn’t much of an armory with which to go into battle when they didn’t know the strength of the opposition, but it would have to do.
Syd sat silently, knees drawn up in the seat, arms crossed over her chest. The very image of clammed up and I don’t wanna talk about it. Maybe she thought she’d said too much already in predicting the behavior of the scavengers. Perhaps she was steeling herself against the questions she knew would come. Whatever her reasons, Nathan figured he wasn’t going to get far with her until she’d settled down. Maybe she was just getting ready for battle. Though, Nathan really didn’t like the idea of that.
As he drove, the sky began darkening rapidly. The storm that had been threatening all day was moving in. The trees along the highway were whipping back and forth now, ice crust blowing off and hitting the windshield like thrown grit. Squalls in the road ahead shifted billows of snow, but Nathan didn’t deviate or slow down.
He was busting through and he was getting home.
Nathan pushed all the possible potential horror from his head and looked down into the valley. Shots rang out across the distance. Someone in his isolated house was putting up a spirited defense of the property.
He’d rolled the wrecker down the last hundred yards of snowy road with the engine off, just to avoid alerting the attackers—whoever they might be—but might as well not have bothered. Cyndi and Freeson had two groups of Ski-Doo raiders seemingly pinned down behind their machines, loosely fifty yards from the house.
There were five machines and seven riders hunkered down, all of them armed, but waiting. They looked miserable and cold as the wind howled on, on their asses in the snow, guns across their thighs. Snow was building up in layers on their beanies and over their feet. They looked restless and mightily pissed, and they didn’t look like people who would put up with this status quo for much longer. A shot came from the house, keeping the scavengers tied down. None of them were willing to risk their heads above their Ski-Doos to return fire. But as the storm raged, and their bodies got cooler, how long would they wait before attacking?