I have to say that as I stepped inside, I was tempted to keep going until I found a fireplace, or, even better, a warm bed. That was before the smell hit me, though. It was so strong and putrid, I stumbled back outside and thought for sure I was going to throw up. I don’t know how I kept it down.
Again, I thought about abandoning the search for matches and going back to the barn. But the thing is, this wasn’t going to be the last time I smelled death — far from it, I’m guessing. And if I let it keep me from what I need, then I might as well give up now. I’m not saying I’m ready to extend this newfound bravery to actually seeing bodies yet, but I’ll deal with the smell.
I buried my nose under as many layers of my scarf as I could wrap around, and then went back inside. I could still smell the bodies rotting elsewhere in the house, but it wasn’t as potent as before. Searching through the kitchen, I found a large container of matches, an unopened box of Ritz Crackers, and a sharp knife that could come in handy if I ran into any unfriendly animals. Honestly, the knife is really just something that makes me feel safer. Not sure, really, how I would handle an attacking animal. It did get me thinking about guns again, though, and whether there were any in the house. I’ve never shot a firearm before, but I know a gun would be real protection. Of course, that would have meant moving beyond the kitchen, still something I was not mentally prepared to do.
As much as I would have liked to build a fire inside the barn, I was afraid some of the sparks might burn the place down. “Girl Survives Plague Only to Die in Fire.” Hell of a headline, even if there would be nobody to read it. Or, I guess, write the headline in the first place.
I cleared an area out front that was covered by the barn’s eaves and mostly snow free, if not exactly dry. I then gathered some loose pieces of wood and dried hay from inside, and arranged them in the way my dad used to when we went camping. The first match broke in my hand, but the second got things going, and soon I was warming my hands by the small blaze.
I wanted to get an early start this morning, so I knew I couldn’t sit there for long. I still hadn’t made a journal entry, though, and that was something I promised to do every day, so I went back in the barn to retrieve this book.
I barely remember last night. I was really tired, so I didn’t get a chance to look around. But now I noticed a workshop down at the far end. I figured there might be something there that was good to have, so I headed over to check. Didn’t make it all the way, though. As I was passing one of the animal pens the owners had turned into storage areas, I noticed several large objects covered with tarps.
I grabbed one of the covers and threw it off, and I’m not going to lie — I started to laugh. A snowmobile. In fact, there were four of them. Guess who’s not going to have to walk anymore?
I was concerned at first that I might need to make another trip into the house to find the keys, but I found a ring with keys for all four in one of the drawers under the workbench. The good news is, all four engines started on the first try. There’s no real bad news, but my problem is, I have no idea which one would be the best to take. I’ve decided to go with the one that looks newest. I’m hoping that means its engine is in the best shape.
I found several gas cans stored in the same area, and used what was left in one of them to fill the tank. I’ve strapped two of the cans that are near full to the back end with ropes and bungee cords. If I don’t run into any trouble, I’ll definitely be able to make it across the border into Illinois before nightfall. If I push it, I might even make it all the way to Chicago.
Here’s hoping for no trouble.
Ben woke with a start. He’d been dreaming. Of what, he couldn’t remember, but his heart was pounding and his breaths were short and fast. As the rush receded, his body began to relax and his head sank back into the pillow. He lay there for a minute, trying to remember what it was that had caused such a panic, but whatever had occupied his unconscious mind was gone for good.
He glanced over at the bed where Iris had been sleeping, but it was empty. He sat up and looked around. He didn’t see her anywhere in the showroom.
Restroom, he guessed.
Ben pulled on his shoes and headed to the back of the store, needing to use the facilities himself. After making a stop in the men’s room, he knocked on the door to the women’s.
“Iris? You in there?”
No answer.
He pushed the door open a few inches.
“Iris?” When she didn’t respond again, he said, “I’m coming in.”
A quick check of the stalls confirmed what he’d suspected. She wasn’t there.
Great.
She’d probably run off again. The question was, should he once more try to find her?
“No,” he told himself a moment later. She knew what was going on now. Maybe she just wanted to be alone. If that was the case, so be it.
He walked back into the main showroom, thinking the sooner he hit the road, the sooner he’d reach Ridgecrest, where, God willing, he’d find Martina. After he’d repacked the few things he’d taken out of his bag, he unzipped the pouch where he kept his keys. But his keys weren’t there.
“Son of a bitch!”
Slinging his bag over his shoulder, he ran toward the front of the store, but long before he got there, he could see through the big plate-glass windows that his Jeep was not where he’d left it.
“Dammit!”
He burst out the main door and ran out into the parking area. No Jeep anywhere.
“No! No! No!”
He jogged over to the street and looked both ways. Nothing moved in either direction, nor could he hear the sound of an engine, even in the distance.
He yelled in frustration. It was his Jeep with his things in the back.
Oh, God, he thought. The photo of his family, his mother’s favorite, it was still under the driver’s seat.
And the earrings. The ones he’d bought for Martina. They were to be the first ever Christmas gift he’d give her.
All of them, gone.
He stared down the road, numb.
25
Perez made his way through NB219 to the barracks section used by the security forces. As he stepped into the common area, the men who saw him first immediately jumped to attention, with the rest soon doing the same.
“I’m looking for Mr. Sims,” he said. “Anyone know where I can find him?”
“In his room, sir,” one of the men said. “Keep going straight. B-09.”
“Thank you.”
The door to Room B-09 was open a few inches. Perez looked inside and saw Sims unpacking his bag.
“Mr. Sims,” Perez said as he rapped a knuckle on the door.
Sims whirled around. “Principal Director,” he said, surprised. “Did I get the meeting time wrong?”
After spending the night in Denver, Sims and his team had arrived back at NB219 less than fifteen minutes earlier. He was due in Perez’s office for a debriefing at the top of the hour.
“No. I had something that finished up early. Thought I’d save you the trip.”
In truth, Perez had canceled a previously scheduled video conference so he could make this personal appearance. In his mind, Sims was the second most important person in the Project. He had become the hammer that reinforced the principal director’s rule. So Perez knew it was necessary to make sure their working relationship was solid. Small things, such as dropping in like this, went a long way toward solidifying loyalty.
“Thank you, sir, but you didn’t have to do that.”
“Not a problem,” Perez said. “I take it you didn’t find anything after your last report.”
“No, sir. Those first tracks we saw were it. There was a big storm up there. I’m pretty sure they’re riding it out somewhere. Once the weather clears up, we can go back out and look for them again.”
Perez had received a report on the storm. It was the same one, though diminished, that was expected to hit northern New Mexico in the next hour or two, and could possibly make it all the way down to Las Cruces at some point during the night.
“If you do go back, what do you think your chances are of finding them?”
“Fair, I guess.”
“Give me a percentage.”
“Well, if the weather clears up in that area like it’s supposed to tonight, and we leave before first light tomorrow, I’d say we have maybe a forty-percent chance. If we have to wait twelve hours or a full day more, it would go down to single digits and probably not be worth it.”
Perez wasn’t sure a forty-percent chance would be worth it. “Touch base with me this evening. We’ll make a decision then.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Anything else to report?”
“No, sir. That’s it.”
“Very good.” As they shook hands, the principal director said, “Tell your men I’m very pleased with the work they are doing.”
“I will. They’ll appreciate that, sir.”