Officer Nowicki paused and listened before he returned to the warmth of his car’s interior. The image of the fallen couple still ripped at his heart but for now, thank God, all was quiet. His face and hands had almost recovered from the deliberate splashing he’d given them an hour before, however, the chill had returned when he used fresh snow to clean the elk’s blood from the cruiser’s hood. Sitting behind the steering wheel he rubbed the sting from his hands, then extended the motion up his forearms, smoothing and warming the goose bumps there. He had been pleased to see Willy and his wife reunited and the smile that dominated her face, when she’d seen the gutted carcass, made the morning’s efforts worthwhile. What do I do with all these people? he thought, while continuing to warm his arms and digits. “Help better be on the way,” Ziggy prayerfully whispered, as he slipped the transmission into drive and skirted away from the curb.
He swung through town, avoiding the government building and the scene he’d left there. Near the train station he noted a couple of middle-aged Huskers rummaging through a dumpster in search of food. Flipping a toggle on the console spun the lights and sounded the siren for a moment; capturing one of the disheveled’s attention but not stopping their attempts at foraging. What the hell? I hope they find something to eat and stay out of trouble. The road that ascended the mountain and led to Norquay was fraught with switchbacks and avalanche sites, testing both driver and equipment. Normally his tires would have been swapped for the season but the sudden arrival of snow and the dreadful virus had put those mundane, but necessary events on hold, along with everything else but the need to survive. He passed under the Trans-Canada Highway, relaxed the pressure on the gas pedal, rolled to a stop and eyed the road ahead. At the mountain’s base a snow covered meadow meandered through sparse stands of pines, often the home to the regions plentiful deer and elk. Today the scene was still. An occasional track marred the blanket of white but for now, the offenders were in hiding, seeking warmth and safety elsewhere.
Zygmunt had often used the small gravel parking lot at the extreme edge of the picturesque expanse to enjoy his lunch and watch the wildlife. Just a month ago he’d seen a large black bear lazily chewing berries from a bush, not thirty feet from that exact spot. In his mind he contrasted the beauty, peace and calm that laid before him with the unexpected, chaotic charge of the Huskers earlier in the day. He closed his eyes and pushed the thought from his mind, imagining it to be a world away, on another continent more accustomed to killing and death, which he understood too well.
"Okay Ziggy, four wheel drive or not, I better give this a try," he said, smiling at the prospect of running into the four attractive young women again.
Slowly accelerating the patrol car, the sea of white undulated in his peripheral vision like gentle waves pitching on the ocean’s surface. His stomach matched the motion, forcing bile to the back of his throat and prompting him to race across the valley’s floor. Nearing the opposite side of the great expanse he spotted an SUV, not so much parked, but haphazardly slammed into the logs, which lined the parking area he’d often used. Scanning his memory he tried to put a name or face to the light colored Lexus, but could not. However, he was quite sure the vehicle had not been there a day or two ago. The young RCMP officer brought the cruiser to a standstill at the rear of the SUV. Out of habit he reached for the radio to call in the plate and keyed the mic before he realized what he was doing. "Idiot," he said, laughing and slamming the handheld transmitter back onto its perch. From his vantage point he couldn’t see anyone inside the vehicle but it was running, as a steady stream of exhaust belched from the rear pipe.
Ziggy placed the unit in park and reached again for the handset, toggling the switch to external speaker. "Driver, exit the vehicle with your hands up." Better safe than sorry, he thought. He repeated the attempt two more times before exiting the comfort of the car, smoothly sliding his pistol from its sheath and holding it ready at his side. Cautious and deliberate, far more than he’d ever been in his entire life, including his time overseas, he sidestepped wide of the open door, giving him a better view into the interior. It was indeed empty, void of life but covered in the remnants of a battle for survival. Blood, frozen in place, decorated the fine upholstery with what Ziggy knew to be pieces of bodily tissue, grotesquely ice-bound in islands of red plasma.
Finally assured all was safe, he returned to his cruiser and pulled on his heavy coat, gloves and mask. Standing at the open door of the running Lexus he surveyed the SUV’s contents without touching anything. Why risk contamination if I can help it, he thought. Small, shattered pieces of glass littered the interior, some streaked with blood, especially those still attached to the frame. The roof of the cab was particularly savaged with spattered blood and brain matter, a hole punched through the metal housing, just to the side of the sunroof, helped Ziggy mentally construct what he thought had happened. Satisfied with the inspection, Officer Nowicki walked around and opened the passenger door, ducking he pulled another piece of the puzzle from the floor mat: a Ruger .357 Magnum with a full compliment of shells in the cylinder, two of which had been fired.
He straightened his back and looked around, thinking to himself. Now why in the world would you go off and leave your only form of protection? “And where is the bumper?” He again inspected the front of the SUV, confirming a solid impact with the lot’s log enclosure but the bumper was definitely missing.
Ziggy walked a full 360 degrees around the Lexus, looking for anything he might have missed, before he reached in and spun the key in the ignition, silencing the engine. Picking up where the injured driver had walked away from the scene was not difficult. Footprints, highlighted with crimson droplets, painted a pathway, first across the meadow and towards the trees, then circling to the road, where the trail became significantly harder to follow. The somewhat baffled officer made his way back to the little parking lot, talking out loud as he did. “So this guy gets into a real knockdown, drag-out fight with a Husker. Yeah, has to be a Husker, but not here. Maybe in town and he drives, trying to get home and can’t make it or the battle takes place up the canyon and he’s headed for help. Anyway, this is as far as he gets, at least in the car, but why leave the Lexus? If he has the strength to walk, why not just drive the rest of the way home or help or . . .?”
The questions hung in the air, twisting this way and that as he ruled out plausible answers and scenarios. He popped the cruiser’s trunk and placed the revolver into a Ziploc bag along with the gloves he was wearing. From a large blue bottle he liberally covered his hands with sanitizer and rubbed the lotion into the skin until it was gone. Removing a pen and paper form his vest pocket, he wrote down the plate from the Lexus, kicked the RX350’s door shut and returned to the steady stream of warm air pulsing through his car’s vents. “We’ll see . . . he’s either dead or . . . who knows?”
By the time Zygmunt concluded his preliminary investigation and turned his attention to the roommates, a good portion of the afternoon was gone. He mentally calculated the time it would take him to drive up to ol’ Smugs’ cabin and back to the station, wondering if he had enough daylight to make the run under safer circumstances. “You’re hooped, Nowicki. Maybe they’ll have to invite me to stay the night.” He smiled; lurid images of a grownup sleepover distracted him for a moment before he pushed them aside and retorted, “I should be so lucky.”
Tall timbers shadowed the road from the late afternoon sun, setting deep to the southwest. The cruiser navigated the slick blacktop cautiously, slowing at each sheltered cabin and housing structure, as Ziggy made his way along. None were using lights, which didn’t necessarily mean the edifice was abandoned but perhaps the residents were not advertising their existence. At some, he swung the spotlight away from the patrol car and illuminated the dwelling but found no evidence of movement or survivors. It had been days, if not weeks, since he’d traveled so close to Norquay. One of the missing officers had been responsible for the area and he’d gone missing shortly after the Huskers started roaming the streets.
Three and a half miles up the winding parkway he finally encountered something beyond the norm. A man and a woman sat on a front porch rocking rhythmically in a pair of large wooden chairs. The spot’s intense beam panned across the earth between the car and the couple, removing shadows and uncertainty. “Huskers!” he grunted, as the light displayed the grisly remains of a near-headless torso and the cannibalistic Huskers, covered in gore and carnage. He instinctively reached for the auto-lock button on the armrest, double-checking his security. The woman of the pair took exception to being dazzled by the extreme light and stood, covering her eyes and stepping from the elevated porch. The man quickly followed and advanced down the steps to join her. Ziggy immediately doused the light and punched the accelerator, not wanting to send another couple to meet their maker so soon after the events of the morning.
Moments later he backed off his speed to maneuver a tight hairpin turn, staying close to the mountainside opposite the guardrails and the drop-off below. His lights, now a necessity, panned the roadway and trees, which seemed to jump out as odd shapes and shadows. Just as he completed the sharp-angled turn, movement caught his eye. Quick reflexes, honed by years of experience and training, brought him to an abrupt halt, his right foot mashing the pedal to the floor. Sure enough, there in the middle of the pavement was a nervous coyote busily lapping at something on the road’s surface. The well-fed animal bristled but continued its scant meal, keeping one eye on the intruder. Ziggy swept the external light to bear on the scene, pivoting it right to left, suddenly framing the missing front bumper; hanging, broken, and partially wedged into the guardrail. Well, there’s the rest of the Lexus . . . battle must’ve happened here but who . . .
The last few miles up the canyon were black and eerily quiet. Bits of snow and ice crunched beneath the tire treads as the temperature dropped and the day’s slush formed crystalline ridges along the road’s uneven surface. An arcuate sliver of yellow moon-glow provided little, if any help, in illuminating the roadway ahead. Zygmunt held the wheel tightly at the ten and two o’clock positions, just as he’d been instructed as a young man of 14. He slowly maneuvered the cruiser up the mountainous terrain, squinting, until he finally saw the lights of a small cabin ahead. This better be the place, he thought, bringing the car to a stop behind the Jeep he recognized as the girl’s.
Before climbing from the cruiser he flicked on the interior light and looked at himself in the rearview mirror; ran a hand through his thick, brown hair and used his index finger to polish his front teeth. It’ll have to do, he thought, extinguishing the light and stepping from the vehicle.
“Hold it right there!” Came a trembling shout from the cabin’s porch. It was a little less friendly than the RCMP officer had anticipated but he smiled, knowing the young women were playing it safe.
Ziggy cautiously walked to where he could be seen by the sentry and introduced himself, his hands extended up and away from his weapon. “Ma’am, it’s me, Officer Nowicki. We met the other day, remember . . . I stopped you in Banff and I gave you the rifles.”
As he completed the last of his statement, Bobi’s roommates joined her on the porch, each toting a weapon, aimed directly at him. “Step up here a bit closer. You don’t sound the same. I want to make sure it’s you.”
“Oh, it’s me alright but without the gas mask and other accouterments. I can assure you it’s me,” he said, stepping ever closer and eventually being engulfed in the bright beam of at least one flashlight.
Mick lowered her weapon’s muzzle but continued to blast the officer with the light’s brilliance. “What brings you so far from town this late in the day? This a social call?” she further questioned.
“Well, ladies, I wish I was here to tell ya the threat is over and you can go home but I’m afraid that’s not the case.”
“So why are you here?” Raven questioned, in a more mellow tone than Mick had used.
Officer Nowicki lifted his arm to block the light searing his retinas and replied, “Take this for what it’s worth . . . I was worried and just wanted to check in on you.”
“Isn’t that sweet. We were just saying this afternoon how helpful and . . . ” Bobi’s further explanation was hastily curtailed by Raven, who’d been the most vocal during the day’s discussion.
“Yeah, we were certainly appreciative of your help with the guns and all,” Raven said, casting a quick glare at Bobi and bumping her with her behind.
“Do you mind? I mean, the lights, could you give me a break?” Ziggy asked, waving his hand to exaggerate the discomfort he was feeling. A second later the conical beams were lowered to his feet and then eliminated. “Thanks.”
An awkward silence hung in the chilled air for a minute as Nowicki thought of his next sentence and the roommates whispered among themselves, debating their next move and who should act as their spokesperson. Raven won out, quickly descended the steps and greeted the young officer with a more friendly welcome. “Sorry for the guns and precautions but we’ve had our share of scares and well . . . you know what I mean, right?”
“Absolutely. Believe me I’m glad to see that you’re ready to shoot first and ask questions later. After the past couple of days, I’m afraid that’s the best policy,” he assured her, extending his hand to shake hers.
She looked down, then back at the girls, withholding her hand from the friendly gesture. “No offense, but how ‘bout you come in and wash up so we can get you a bite to eat. You hungry?”
“Uh, oh yeah, none taken. Something to eat would be awesome; haven’t had anything since this morning. I’ve been so busy I’ve not had time to even think about food.”
“We can’t offer you anything fancy but it’ll be hot,” Mick urged from the porch, swinging the door wide and inviting everyone back inside.
“Hot, now that’s an understatement,” Bobi whispered to Mick and Hannah, as she passed through the doorway.
Hannah swung the butt of her rifle, smacking the Egyptian in the behind and pushing her more quickly into the cabin. “Bobi, he can probably hear you.”
“So what, he’s gorgeous and I’m guessing, in need of some female companionship. You think he drove all this way for some mac and cheese?” Bobi yammered into her taller friend’s ear while pulling on her shoulder to make the connection.
“You may be right but give Raven a chance. She just lost her dad and could use a little ego boost.”
“I suppose you’re right but if he shows any interest, I’ll be all over him like jam on toast,” she half laughed, knowing what she’d said was somewhat true.
The girls welcomed the officer into the cozy cabin and directed him to the sink where he washed his hands and face. Raven stayed close by, appreciating having an authority figure in their home, and such a handsome one at that. Mick debated among the various soups piled neatly atop one another in the cupboard and finally chose two. “Chicken noodle or tomato?” she asked, holding the red-labeled cans for their guest to inspect.
“Let’s give the tomato a try,” he replied, after giving the option a second or two to resonate with his taste buds.
Rave tossed him a towel and opened the fridge. “Do you want me to cut up some cheese and put in the soup for you?”
The question swirled through his mind for a second and he lifted a brow. “I don’t know. Is it good?”
“I like it,” Raven replied. “My mom always did it for me when I was a kid. Kinda stuck with me. Can’t even think of having tomato soup now without it.”
“Then we better give it a try,” he said, winking at the young, would-be author. She smiled and turned her attention to the task of slicing the cheese into cubes. Bobi and Hannah invited the officer to join them in front of the fireplace, initiating small talk and grilling him with questions.
“Hey, you two give him a chance to breathe. I’m sure he’ll fill us in after he’s had a bite to eat and can warm up,” the teacher instructed from the stovetop.
The lab tech paused, but only briefly, before she continued her string of unanswered questions. “Nowicki?” she said, pointing to the stitching across his shirt. “Where you from?”
“Canada. How ‘bout you?”
“Same, but my parents immigrated from Egypt years ago. Nowicki is no way Canadian.”
“You’re right,” he said, pausing to take in the Falconer woman, busying herself in the kitchen. “My parents immigrated from overseas years ago but I was born and raised in Canada.”
“I thought as much,” Hannah offered. “Didn’t pick up much of an accent.”
“Oh, yeah . . . don’t really have one unless I’m around my folks for a couple of days, then it just naturally kicks in.” There was a moment of dense silence as the mention of family took the officer, and girls alike, to a place of thoughtfulness and remembrance. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but have you been in touch with your families? I mean, all of you, have you gotten any word on how they’re doing?”
Bobi was the first to chime in, telling him about her family struggling to stay out of harms way further north in Alberta. Tall, slender Hannah simply shrugged and said she didn’t know what the story was with hers, even though she was holding out hope for their safety. Finally, Mick told him a little bit about herself as she presented him with a steaming bowl of soup with orange, melting blocks of cheese bobbing in the slurry mixture.
“And how about you?” Zygmunt asked, nodding at Raven. “Your folks okay?” The young man knew he’d struck a tender chord when each of the women lowered their eyes and Mick slowly shook her head. “Oh, Miss, I shouldn’t have intruded. Sometimes I overstep . . . ”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m a big girl . . . I’m . . . ” she hesitated, opting to return to the kitchen, pouring him a glass of cold, but nasty tasting powdered milk. She handed him the drink and plopped onto the floor near his feet and spoke. “My mom has been dead for years. She was a wonderful woman and in hindsight I’d have to say that I’m glad she went when, and how she did. I’d hate for her to have to see what the world has become. My dad raised me with a lot of help from friends and family. My uncle Smugs, the guy who owns this cabin, has been wonderful and I think he’s still doing okay. Last we heard he was in Lethbridge.”
“And your dad, where is he?” Nowicki inquired, listening intently and periodically blowing on a spoonful of smoldering soup.
“He . . . he’s . . . ” Raven stopped and looked at her hands, clasped so tightly together the knuckles were white.
“We’re not sure where he is now,” Mick continued on her friend’s behalf.
“What do you mean, now?” Zygmunt asked.
“He was here a couple of nights ago. He’s infected but came to say goodbye. Shortly after he left we heard a gunshot. Rave and I drove down the road and found a dead Husker but no sign of her dad. You must have seen the body and the bumper on your way up here.”
“I’m afraid I did. Was the bumper his?”
“We’re pretty sure. The body was a neighbor boy, Benny, who we knew was infected,” Mick explained.
“Don’t know him but I think an older couple dragged his remains to their cabin and have been eating him. They weren’t all too thrilled to see me today.” The group sat speechless for a time, giving the man a chance to finish his soup and take in what had been said. Ziggy hated to broach the subject but knew it had to be done. “Miss Falconer, I . . . and stop me if you don’t want to know.”
“What? What is it?” she asked, rising to her knees before the officer.
“Your dad, was he driving a light colored Lexus?”
“Have you seen him? Where is he? Is he dead?” she blurted out, her hands mindlessly reaching and falling on his bent knees.
“I don’t know.” The response brought a look of disbelief from Raven, who cocked her head and wiped at her eyes with her shirtsleeve. “Really I don’t, but I have seen his SUV. I found it earlier today at the bottom of the mountain. It was still running but nobody was around. Looked to me like one hell of a fight took place in the cab but he was gone.” Something told him to hold back a further explanation and the conclusion he’d arrived at earlier, suspecting that Raven’s father had managed to walk to town.
“Oh no, no. Do you think he’s dead? Did it look like he was hurt?” she asked.
“I don’t know, there was an awful lot of blood but it may not have been his,” Ziggy suggested, unsure how he might smooth over the details and calm Raven’s anxious heart.
“If he’s left the Lexus, he’s either gone off somewhere to . . . I can’t even bring myself to say it,” Raven whispered.
“Rave, don’t do this to yourself,” Hannah calmly responded, kneeling at her friends side and smoothing her hair away from her face. “You can’t bring him back, not now. Remember what he said.”
“Thanks, Hannah. I know . . . it’s just so hard and not knowing is the worst part. What do you think, officer? What’s your best guess?”
He considered telling Raven about the handgun safely tucked away in his trunk, then thought better of it. Why cause her more doubt and anguish if he could prevent it? “If I had to bet, I’d say he took the pistol he used on the Husker and solved the problem himself. If he’s the kind of man I envision him to be, it’s the only logical explanation. I found tracks going into the trees and didn’t follow ‘em too far but I’m sure he’s in a better place.”
“You really think so?” Raven asked, squeezing his knees, desperate for a reply that would bring her some closure.
“I do.”
Raven sat back on her haunches, pulled her hands from his legs and wept openly. Hannah cradled her and offered words of comfort, as Mick and Bobi joined the grieving woman on the floor. The display of raw emotion affected the young veteran more than he’d thought possible. Tears burned their way down his dry, windblown cheeks and moistened his attire. He stood, looking for an escape but understood there would be no true liberation, not now, not ever. At least, not from the sadness and grief the world would continue to inflict on those who chose to survive.
Reaching deep, he pulled himself together and prepared to make his way back to the station. “Listen ladies, I appreciate the hot meal. Wish I could have been the bearer of brighter news but I’m glad to see you’re all safe and doing better than one might expect. I need to be getting back. Heaven only knows what’s happened today while I’ve been gone.”
“Do you have to go?” Bobi asked, coyly passing a knowing look at Hannah.
The suggestion was almost like a dream come true and perhaps under different circumstances he would have taken the brown, little beauty up on the implied invitation, but something more inbred and caring replied from his heart. “Wish I could but I’ve got an entire town relying on me. I need to get back.”
“What would you suggest we do? Any hint help is on the way?” Mick asked.
“None. Just stay here, keep your heads down and don’t go anywhere without each other and your guns. Beyond that, I don’t know what to tell you. Oh, there is one thing. You have Huskers all around you and probably good people too. I have no idea how many or how far but with the warmer weather they may venture out, especially when their food supplies diminish.”
Hannah gave Raven a final hug, then turned to face the RCMP officer. “What if we don’t have a choice? What if one of our neighbors decides we’re next on the menu? Do we have the right to . . . you know? Do we have the right to shoot them?”
“You do what you have to do,” he said, thinking back to the couple they’d been forced to kill earlier in the day. “As far as I see it, there are no laws governing our actions but those of good people trying to survive in unrealistic circumstances. Let your conscience be your guide and shoot straight.”
“We hear you and thanks for coming,” Mick concluded, extending her hand and warmly taking his in a strong embrace. “Will we see you again?”
“I sure as hell hope so!”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that. Will you be coming this way again anytime soon?”
“Likely. I don’t know when but if you get lonely for some male companionship you know where to find me.”
The three roommates followed Nowicki onto the front porch and said their goodbyes. Raven listened from her spot near the fire, summoning the courage to express her own thanks and farewell. From where she sat, the faintest of dialogue reached her ears, the young man offering his best and his parting thoughts for her. She leapt to her feet, wiped her face with the bottom of her shirt and bolted for the door. The sudden movement and rush startled everyone, including Ziggy, who turned and caught Raven as she embraced him and kissed his cheek.
She was never an impulsive woman nor was she forward, in any sense of the word, but times were changing and so must she. “Zygmunt, thank you.”
“For what?” he questioned, enjoying the softness of her curves, which she pressed against him.
“For helping to take the hurt away. It’ll take time but I appreciate you being there for us. I won’t forget it.”
The lie suddenly seemed much larger than it had a few minutes ago. He pushed it away: down into the recesses of his mind, hoping he’d never have to explain his actions further but only time would tell. “Glad I could be of help. Good night,” he said, as she pulled herself away and waved a gentle adieu.
The hug and softness of her lips clouded his thoughts. An overwhelming call of duty drove the cruiser back down the Norquay trail but his wants and desires longed to be encircled in the warmth and friendship he’d felt while surrounded by the beauties in the remote cabin. His mind propelled him back to long nights in Afghanistan where he yearned for the touch of a loving woman and the understanding call of her voice. He’d shared intimate moments and known love but it had been too long and too little, and now with the world disintegrating all around them, he wondered if he’d ever know it again. Perhaps, he thought, if I play my cards right and can manage to stay alive.
A smile slowly lifted the corners of his mouth as he rounded a steep, angular curve in the road, lifting his headlights away from the pavement for just a moment only to bring them back again, illuminating a horde of Huskers tramping steadily up the roadway. Without a second thought, he executed a panicked three-point turn and gunned the engine for the cabin. Huskers rushed to beat at the windows, some hurling stones and sticks but all falling short as the cruiser fishtailed ahead.
Minutes later, with the siren wailing and the lights flashing, he skidded to an abrupt stop in front of the cabin. The girls rushed outside to see what had caused the unexpected, outlandish return. Officer Zygmunt Nowicki rushed towards them, his face white and a tremor to his voice, “You can’t stay here! Get your things. They’re coming, dozens of them, they’re coming! You’ve got to go.”