MITCH WISHED SHE SMOKED. Standing in the center of what was once the main street, sharp wind dragging snow across the hard-pack like it was tumbleweed, she was thinking it might be good for her nerves if she could just pull one out, suck on its heat. She scanned the far horizon, eyes moving down from the tree line to the buildings along the street, seeing the snow banked up against the doors, windows frosted over—there was nothing to indicate any of the other buildings were being used. They just looked cold and abandoned and mute. What a fucking shithole.
She retraced her steps back around to the side of the hotel, looking over towards the workbay. From what the worn out, faded sign said it used to be the fire hall. Good Christ, where the fuck was everybody? She walked back up towards the side door of the hotel, her eyes following the tracks that led down towards the workbay, the trail worn and wide from the constant traffic. Snow on either side unbroken. She took the path, looking at the tiny houses tucked up behind, the ramshackled auto garage, the old headframe on the corner directly across from the hotel.
The headframe. That’s right, this had been a mining town at one time, and now her snow pirates were illicitly trading their high-grade silver down along the border for gasoline. She stopped and turned towards it, a small angular building, blinds down over the big windows that ran the length of its front. She moved closer, ploughing through the hard crust of snow that went up over her boots, stopped a few yards from the rear end of the building, then smiled. There it was, exactly what she’d been looking for, a barrage of tracks trailing down along the backside of the building to a small backdoor.
Fucking busted.
She plunged on, made it to the narrow passageway between a huge pile of firewood and the building, tried the knob. Locked.
She made her way back towards the workbay, breathing hard but feeling better than she had in a while, thinking about the look on Slaught’s face as she stepped into the room, saying something like ‘come out, come out wherever you are,’ or maybe not be that playful at all, just say ‘finders, keepers Slaught.’ Or maybe just shoot whoever’s next to him, ask ‘miss me much Johnny?’
It took her a minute or so to find what she was looking for, headed back over to the door of the headframe, the weight of the crowbar feeling good in her hand. She thought for a minute of going in through one of the big windows, sending the glass flying, but decided against it. Too messy. So she slammed the bar down onto the doorknob, snapping it off, slammed the head into the door jam and popped it open.
The room was empty, the cement floor icy in the cold. She stepped in carefully. Snow. Snow tracked in across the floor and around the corner. She moved to look behind the big counter that ran along in front of a large, timbered doorway leading into the back of the building. Tracks all the way.
But no bodies to go with them.
She stood, staring into the empty space where the tracks led. Either up or down, no other way. She moved around the counter and through the doorway.
“Fucking morons,” she said, pulling open the wooden barrier that enclosed the top of a shaft. She looked down, yelled, “If every last one of you isn’t up here within five minutes I’m going to blast the fucking shit out of you.”
Silence.
“One grenade ladies and gentlemen, that’ll be all it takes.”
She heard some murmuring, shuffling of bodies. She went back outside and fired a shot into the air to get some of her team over to the headframe, then went back in, standing back, arms folded, smirking as the first head appeared.
Slaught stopped in the small ridge of spruce. He’d heard a single shot about fifteen minutes ago, had waited a bit then made his way carefully down the slope in behind the old MacMillan garage across from the workbay. He was hunkered down, could see over to the workbay but not much else. The big doors were flung open, so they must have already searched in there. He wondered how far they’d gotten.
He slid down the small hill, peering out around the building until he could see the hotel. It looked quiet, only a few rooms up on the second floor had lights on, casting a dun-coloured glow against the curtains. The lights in the dining room were now on. He moved back away from the building, tucking in behind the wreck of a truck sitting across from the workbay. He pulled out the walkie-talkie.
Nothing.
Trying again, “Hey, Jordan, you there?”
“Johnny? Yeah.”
“What’s going on?”
Some spitting and hissing came back at him that he couldn’t make out.
“What?”
“I think they’ve found them. I think they brought everyone into the maintenance room.”
Shit.
Slaught asked, “Where are you?”
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
“The repair panel in the hall, under the stairs.”
Johnny thinking for a minute, trying to figure out what he meant, then remembering the small door along the hall, picturing Jordan crammed in there.
“Stay put. Don’t move.”
“Okay Johnny, but make it quick, I can’t feel my feet.”
Slaught shut off the walkie-talkie. Crouching in the silence, Johnny couldn’t remember a day so cold in a long time. His legs were feeling cramped, the cold starting to work its way through his parka. It was time to end this, he just wasn’t sure how to do that yet. If Jordan was right, there were forty some people crammed into that maintenance room. Tight fit. Jordan was out, so were the guys down in North Bay, so that left folks pretty much on their own. He was glad at least Susun was with them. Susun. Slaught remembering her asking if it wasn’t dangerous, taking everyone down into the old Coniagas shaft and him saying, no, used to be a grocery store back in the day, the grocer storing his meat down the shaft to keep it cold. Then he was thinking about what a couple of guys had told him about the Coniagas, that there were drifts running off that shaft and under the Fraser hotel, that you could get underground from the headframe into the back end of the hotel.
The maintenance room was in the back end of the hotel.
Slaught stood up, took a deep breath, shoved the walkie-talkie in his pocket and headed for the headframe, thinking it was high time for a miracle.
When Slaught pounded on the thick wooden hatch he was pretty sure no one would hear him. He’d found a length of old timber lying nearby and had taken it, grabbing it by the end and shoving it up at the hatch. He was hoping to hell it was the maintenance room he was trying to break into, and hoping too that the hatch wasn’t covered by six layers of linoleum. He pounded a few more times, listened, wasn’t hearing much then heard some scrapping overhead, now feeling his heart racing, and then the sound of shifting dirt around the hatch, then a slice of light.
The hatch flew open, Mr. McLaren and Susun peeking their heads over the edge.
Slaught looked up, said, “Hey.”
Susun smiled and McLaren said, “Now how the hell are we going to get you up here?”
“I was thinking about getting everyone down.”
McLaren persisted, “Gotta be be a ladder around somewhere Johnny, take a look.”
“Yep, you’re right,” Slaught was saying, hauling the ladder over to the opening, throwing off his parka to be able to maneuver better, McLaren grabbing the top of the ladder to steady it. Slaught said, “Hope it holds.”
McLaren and Susun watched as Slaught hauled himself up cautiously, McLaren grabbing Slaught by his sweater to help pull him up over the edge.
“You okay?” Susun asked.
“Never been better, how’s everyone here and what’s the plan?”
There was a barrage of whispering from the crowd of folks, jammed into every corner of the room. Johnny held up his hand. “Whoa, one at a time.”
Max was beside Susun now. He looked miserable. “We don’t have a plan yet. We’ve come up with a few scenarios but nothing that makes any sense. It’s the same bunch here and they’re in a nasty mood, especially since you and the guys weren’t here. And they were pissed on not finding Ricky. And Jordan’s missing.”
“No, Jordan’s okay, holed up in the repair closet up the hall there. He’s the one that let me know what was going on here. Okay, so we’re in a bit of a jackpot, but that doesn’t mean we’re not coming out of it. Let’s just take this one step at a time. First up, any ammo here?”
Max, even more miserable, pointed to the bin marked “Fake” in purple marker. “Just your postmodernist bullshit hardware, Johnny. Everything else is safely stored in lock up.”
Slaught frowned.
“Chumboy?”
“No word yet.”
“Okay, well, let’s make this room as safe as we can. Let’s break down the shelving and make some more room in here. Stack everything you can find in the front part here, might give us some shelter or buy some time anyway. Then everyone back down below. Nothing else, it will slow them down. Let’s do this quick too, who knows when they might be back.”
Johnny surveyed the mess of blankets and bins, taking stock, then asked, “Hey, where’s Tiny?”
Susun shrugged. “He was outside when we headed across to the headframe, said he needed more time. Haven’t seen him since.”
“Hmm, maybe he’s holed up somewhere like Jordan, eh? Once I get out there I might turn up a few folks. Anyone else missing?”
“Chumboy’s Auntie.”
Johnny was surprised. “Wasn’t she with you guys in the headframe?”
“No, I think she went to help Tiny,” Susun said, then added, “This isn’t looking so great, is it?”
“Well, I think if we play this right we have a slight chance of getting out of here in one piece.”
Susun shook her head, lowered her voice. “Johnny, I’m not sure everyone can get down there.”
“Well, we need to try. I’m thinking that anyone who can manage it should get the hell down that ladder and across to the headframe. I’m heading out into the hotel now.”
“How are you getting out? They’re not stupid, the door is locked.”
“Well, I’m going right out that locked door thanks to you. After you pulled that stunt in here, I had Harv put it back on with the smallest screws we could find. If we push hard enough on that door, chances are it’ll just pop off. The issue is, then what?”
Susun said that they could hardly fight their way out of there with his toy guns and Johnny said they were pretty fine looking toy guns, and maybe they could bluff their way out, at least till they could reach some snowmachines.
“Chumboy and the guys have most of the good sleds. There are some here but not enough. Not for everyone.”
Johnny nodded, thinking, and then said, “Okay, well let’s get folks moving and take some water along too. I’m getting a move on before they come back.”
Susun said, “I’m going with you.”
“Me too,” said Max.
Johnny said, “I appreciate that, but we gotta have some defense in here too.”
“If it comes to that, Mr. McLaren and I can handle things,” said Mrs. Merrill.
McLaren added, “You’ll have a fight on your hands here if you try and say no. We’ll be fine. We’ll get people going across the drift.”
Slaught said, “Okay, Susun and Max, grab a gun. They may not be the real deal but they’re all we’ve got and you’ll feel better holding onto to ’em. Max, you try to make it to the storage lock-up, grab whatever you can find and get it back up here to these folks. Susun and I are going to get Jordan and then try to stall them.”
Susun stared down woefully at her gun. “When I was little, toy guns were obviously toys. I think my brother’s was bright green and cheap plastic. This thing is offensive.”
Slaught said he found the fact that they didn’t fire real bullets to be offensive at the moment, and then to Max added, “Max, you get a move on and get some firepower back here. McLaren, have someone waiting at the bottom of the hatch, Max can toss a few down to you. If there is anyone who can’t get down that ladder then you’re going to have to stay with them Max, understand? As soon as you are back here with the hardware and ammo, fire a couple of shots, okay?”
He nodded. Slaught moved towards the door and looked over at Susun. “Ready?”
She nodded, said, “Listen. No heroics. You be careful, eh?”
He stopped and looked at her, taking the edge of her shirt collar. “Why are you always wearing my clothes?”
She felt his hand brush against her throat, said, “I like the way they smell.”
He stared at her for a bit too long, and then turned and asked Max to come help him with the door, saying, “Praying now would be a good idea Mrs. Merrill,” and with that the two pushed and, after a few heaves against the metal, sure enough the door popped open, Max slamming into Slaught who stumbled but steadied himself, saying, “No turning back now, sure that got their attention. Let’s pop that door back up and go stir the pot.”
After replacing the door, Slaught and Susun disappeared around the corner with Max heading off down the hall.
Slaught hugged the wall, inching down the hallway, stopping to listen every few yards. Susun was close behind.
Slaught leaned his head around the next corner. The hallway was empty. About half way down was the repair closet. It seemed like a long fucking way.
“Okay Susun, I’m going, cover me.”
“You’re joking, right?”
Slaught hefted the AK-47 in his hands. Probably weighed about a quarter of what a real one would. A good 2-by-4 would probably have been more useful.
“It’s a question of mind over matter,” he answered. “Humour me alright?” Then he started down the hall.
Susun peeked around the corner as he reached the closet, heard him whisper, “Jordan, it’s me, let’s go,” and pulled on the doorknob. Jordan slumped out, Susun covering her eyes, thinking he was dead, but when she opened them, Johnny was hauling Jordan up, his legs numb from being cramped up so long, and then the two Talos guys came around the corner at the far end of the hallway.
Susun yelled, “Johnny,” and Jordan made for the closet as Johnny straightened slowly to face them. They were the same two as before. The first, Burke, said, “Dump your weapon! And you,” gesturing to Jordan, “back the fuck away from the door.”
“I can’t stand up, my legs are shot,” Jordan said.
“Then crawl,” Burke answered. “I don’t really give a shit, just back up.”
Slaught thought maybe they were pushing them back towards the maintenance room, but then he thought maybe they were just getting some distance so they could shoot them without getting splattered with blood. “Listen guys,” he started, but the second one, Leclerc, said, “Shut the fuck up and drop your weapon. And get that bitch to step out into the hall and get over here, now.”
Slaught didn’t say anything, feeling Jordan sort of scurrying back behind him. Leclerc shouted, “Enough bullshit! Drop the fucking weapon or we shoot your miserable little sissy.”
He leveled his gun at Jordan and Slaught said “Alright, alright,” and tossed the gun down, the sound of plastic hitting the floor making the two guys frown, and then Burke brought his gun up and aimed at Slaught, saying “You fucking morons,” and Susun pulled the trigger on her gun, thinking it was just like when you were in the passenger seat of a car and you slammed on the brakes, knowing it wouldn’t make a difference but not being able to help yourself, it being instinct, and the guy down the hall let out a scream and crumpled up and Slaught yelled, “Again Susie, again!” and so she fired again and Johnny dove forward, slamming into Leclerc’s legs, knocking him flat and sliding into the wall.
Jordan scrambled on the floor, reaching for Burke’s gun. He noticed the guy’s eyes were blue, noticed too that the guy was dead. He pushed the gun over at Slaught who stretched out his arm to take it and slammed it into the side of Leclerc’s head a couple of times.
Susun came down the hall, looking a little ashen, and Slaught said, “That’s a pretty impressive case of mind over matter,” and then, “You okay?”
She nodded, “I’m okay, I just hit the brakes, know what I mean, I wasn’t thinking.” She stepped gingerly over the guy now bleeding from his knee onto the shiny hall floor, saying, “Guess we should find the others.”
Johnny nodded, smiled at her. “Thank God that the guy who sorted the guns was an idiot.”
“That idiot was me,” Jordan said.
“Well then, thank God for you Jordan.”