The Darkest Winter Read online

Alex shook his head, but Thea nodded again. “I like cheese and crackers.”

  Beau looked at his sister. It was the same look I gave Jenny when she said something out of turn. Like Beau didn’t want to impose, or maybe he wasn’t sure if he could trust Sophie yet. Finally, he looked at her and nodded as well. “Yes, please.”

  Sophie flashed me a hard look, as if she meant for me to follow, and went into the kitchen. I picked up the remote and turned on the TV. “It doesn’t work anymore,” Alex said, groaning as he moved the tablet in his hand around.

  “The signal’s in and out,” Sophie told him as she walked back into the living room. She handed the kids a couple coloring books and colored pencils. “I hope you like flowers.” The kids stared at her as she hurried into the kitchen. Their gazes fell to me next, and I smiled awkwardly at them, then looked at Alex, moving around the room in search of internet service, then followed after Sophie.

  She pulled out a block of cheddar cheese from the fridge and set it on a cutting board. I handed her a serrated knife from the holder.

  “He found them in Heston Building,” she whispered.

  I shook my head. “What’s that mean?”

  “It’s the abandoned Navy bunkers next door.”

  I frowned. “What were they doing in there—”

  “I have no idea.” Her voice was low but pitched. “Alex thinks their mom tried to hurt them—she tried to save them, at least that’s what they said. But why would she take them out there, wearing only their pajamas and their shoes. Was she trying to freeze them to death or something?”

  It was a horrifying assumption and made no sense, but then nothing made sense anymore.

  Sophie leaned in. “Alex thinks she tried to push them out the window—like she was protecting them from something.”

  My gaze flashed to the kids. They muttered quietly as Beau helped Thea with her coloring page, but Alex was looking at me.

  “He saw her body. Something happened, and she fell but they didn’t. They won’t tell him more.”

  “I don’t blame them,” I murmured and pulled the crackers out of their sleeve to place on the plate.

  “Elle,” Sophie breathed.

  I looked at her. “Their mom is Katie Gunderson. She was my teachers . . . she would never hurt them—ever. I’ve known her for years.” Sophie wrapped her arms around her. Her glassy eyes shifted to the living room. “Why would she do that? What did she know?” I knew that look; I’d felt it many times. Sophie was spiraling.

  “I think,” I started, uncertain what exactly I should say when none of the pieces fit together or made any sense. “I think we need to prepare for the possibility that not everyone who survives the outbreak will be like us.”

  Sophie’s eyes narrowed on me, and Alex stepped into the kitchen, expression narrowed but interested. “You’ve seen something like this?” Sophie asked.

  I threw my hands up. “I don’t know, maybe. But if what you’re saying is true about your teacher—”

  “And the news reports,” Alex interjected, holding up the tablet. “It’s not only the virus they’ve been worrying about. Some people are losing their minds.”

  “An effect of the fever?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “It’s speculation.”

  “We have to be careful,” I realized. It wasn’t about getting sick anymore. It couldn’t even be about the unplowed roads. We needed to be careful because I knew firsthand what strange things were happening.

  Sophie shifted from one foot to the other. “What are we going to do? Just stay here forever?”

  “We can’t stay here.” Alex’s glanced out at the kids. “There’s a gym full of bodies. It’s only a matter of time before—There’s just no way we can stay here.”

  “The quarantine,” I breathed.

  “But there’s a post about this place in British Columbia.” He set the tablet on the counter and enlarged the screen. “It’s a gathering place in Hartley’s Bay.”

  “What?” I glanced between them. That was easily a thousand miles from us, unless one of them knew how to captain a ship. I’d visited once for a photoshoot. It was a little secluded and, on the ocean, much like Whitely, which scared the shit out of me. It would be a place where boats from all around the world could sail right in if they wanted, madmen and the infected, and there would be nothing we could do to stop them.

  “It’s supposed to be safe,” he explained, but I wasn’t sure I believed it. “Shit, I lost the signal—” Alex lifted the tablet again. “It’s the storm,” he said.

  “It’s the power,” Sophie said. “And likely whatever satellite feed you can get.” She set a few pieces of cheese on the plate. “The backup generators came one this afternoon. She handed me a piece of cheddar, then one to Alex. “We’re used to the power going out here,” she explained, glancing between us. “But once the fuel is gone . . .”

  Without the news it was hard to know much of anything anymore. I leaned my elbows on the counter and rested my head in my hands. How had it come to this? The crippling question of what now inched its way in, settling in nicely next to fear.

  “There’re tons of posts online about hold-outs throughout the country—the entire world—but nothing close enough we can get to.” Alex showed me the list. A place in the San Juan Islands in Washington, an Army base in the lower-48, two places in Canada, Greenland . . . The list went on but Alaska wasn’t on the map.

  “Canada’s the closest. If we can get there, we might actually have a chance.” I wasn’t sure who this kid was, but I admired his bravery and his determination. I didn’t, however, know if we were ready to take a road trip to Hartley’s Bay, me and four kids.”

  “How do we know we’re the last ones left in the building?” I looked at Alex. “What about your parents? There have to be others if we’re still alive.”

  “We looked for their dad,” Alex said, peering out at the kids. “He wasn’t anywhere I could find. I’d bet there’s no one else left in this building. They would’ve found us by now.”

  Deep down I knew he was right. I’d been calling and shouting and no one had heard me. I’d seen no one alive, anyway.

  Sophie sniffed and put the cheese back in the fridge. Her mom was still down there. Jenny was down there somewhere too. Sophie covered her face with her hands and stood in front of the fridge, the door hanging open.

  Alex looked at me, his brown eyes wide.

  “Her mom,” I mouthed and pointed down to the first floor.

  His face fell, softened, and he cleared his throat. “We’ll find a way to say goodbye,” he promised and hesitantly rested his hand on her shoulder. “Before we leave, we’ll figure out a way.” Something occurred to him and his eyes flicked to Sophie’s stomach. He leaned in. “Are you okay?” She met his eyes, and he glanced down at her stomach again.

  My heartbeat thudded to a stop, and I stepped closer. “Are you pregnant?” I whispered.

  Sophie’s face flushed and her hands went to her stomach. Slowly, she shook her head. “No. It’s—I’m not. It was a false alarm.” She brushed past us and grabbed the plate to take to the kids in the living room.

  I glared at Alex. “I thought you guys were just friends?”

  “We are, I mean—I guess we are.” His eyes widened as he registered my implication. “It wouldn’t have been mine,” he blurted. “We met for the first time on Monday. I just moved here.”

  And yet somehow, he knew she thought she was pregnant. I was curious, but had more important concerns. I needed to figure out what we would do. What I would do with the four kids I’d inherited.

  “I’ve checked a few of the floors,” Alex explained. “There was no one, not alive, anyway.”

  Alex nodded to my gloves. “You cold or something?”

  I fisted them at my sides. “It’s a germ thing,” I lied. I told myself they wouldn’t know any different, I was a stranger to them anyway. But I felt bad all the same. I might’ve been a stranger to Sophie six hours ago, but now, I wasn�
�t sure what we were. Survivors? Orphans? All of us were, and we all needed somewhere safe to go.

  I smacked my fist on the counter. “The Coast Guards.”

  “Brilliant,” Alex said, pleased. “What about them?”

  I eyed him skeptically. He was strangely collected in all of this. “What were you doing outside?” I asked him. “Where have you been all this time?”

  “I needed to get away from my Uncle Jimmy—I don’t know, a day or tow ago? I woke up in someone’s garage. I don’t remember what happened much before that. Just that I felt like crap and anywhere was better than his shithole apartment.”

  Alex met my gaze. “I’m a foster kid, okay? I was shipped here for the next five months until I turn eighteen and don’t have to be anyone’s problem anymore. The last thing I needed was to get into more trouble so I took off. Trust, me you would have too if you knew the asshole.”

  “Okay,” I said, palms up in forfeit. “I was just curious.” At least I knew why he didn’t seem broken up about Uncle Jimmy. I didn’t get the impression he was a standup guy.

  “So, the Coast Guard?” he prompted.

  “There’s a blockade near downtown Anchorage, by the port. We could head back there, see if they’re still set up—they’ll know what to do, more than we do, at least.” I nodded reassuringly. It was a solid plan, perhaps our only plan. “They’re our best option.”

  “All of us?” Sophie asked. Her eyes darted between me and Alex.

  I frowned. “I guess that’s up to you guys.”

  She looked down at her hands, fiddling with a piece of plastic cheese wrapper. “It’s not that.”

  I didn’t want to push her even if I knew it was our only real hope of finding safety and getting answers. Sophie needed to decide what she would do on her own.

  “I could leave my dad a note, I guess. In case he survived and comes home.” She could barely speak the words. While I’d lost an estranged sister, she’d lost her entire family.

  “Mull it over,” I told her. “We should shower, pack clothes, and rest. We could use it.”

  Alex and Sophie nodded. “We leave tomorrow then, when there’s a break in the snow.”

  Decided and relieved there was a plan, I grabbed an over-ripened banana from the bowl on the counter and decided a shower was exactly what I needed to wash away the fog of the day. “Oh.” I turned around and touched Alex’s shoulder.

  He jumped back, like I’d electrocuted him.

  My heart raced. “Sorry—I . . . Are you okay?” I asked, eyeing the fabric of his long sleeve to make sure I hadn’t burned him. I hadn’t felt a surge or burn, not like I had before.

  Alex’s brow furrowed, transforming his expression into something wary and fearful. “Yeah, I’m fine.” But I could practically hear the gears grinding in his head.

  I cleared my throat. “Bring any weapons you have,” I added quietly. “Just in case.”

  His eyes narrowed on me. “What makes you think I have any weapons?” I wasn’t sure if I’d offended him or if he was just being cautious after whatever had just happened.

  “Because you’re a guy and you live in the wild state of Alaska. I assumed you’d have a weapon—a goddamn baseball bat for all I care.”

  He lifted his chin. “Yeah, sure.”

  Sophie watched us, confused as I was at whatever had just happened. But I didn’t want Alex to think I was a threat, so I headed for the door to give him some space. Beau and Thea were finally nodding off to sleep, and if they could after the ordeal they’d just been through, I hoped we all might.

  “Where are you going?” Sophie asked. “You can stay here, if you want to.”

  I wasn’t sure if Alex felt the same way, so I shook my head. “I’m going to shower, then raid my sister’s closet. I didn’t come prepared for the apocalypse.”

  Chapter 16

  Jackson

  December 11

  I was used to dark roads and snow flurries, but tonight was more ominous than most. I couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to come—more than the gut-wrenching loss and dead bodies, more than fever and the end of our reign on the food chain. I had a sense of more, whatever it was, and I couldn’t shake it. It didn’t go away when I’d found Ross at the PD, and it worsened when he drove away.

  Using my blinker out of habit, I turned down the frontage road that led to my father’s place, passing the only house on the left. Eagle River was a city community in the municipality of Anchorage proper, but you’d never know it out here where the spruce trees lined to the Chugach foothills. I continued toward the tree line the property hid behind.

  The instant I saw the lights on inside, I grew hopeful, then wary, and then something a lot like guilt. If he was alive, he might not be the man I remembered, and if he wasn’t, all the arguing and distance between us over the years was a heavy regret.

  Blowing out a breath, I turned off the new patrol truck I’d snatched at the PD with functioning windows and a dash that wasn’t based in, and I peered around. It was the same as I remembered. His truck was in the drive, covered in what looked like a few days’ worth of snow, but that wasn’t surprising. He was ornery, but he wasn’t stupid. If he’d watched the news at all, he’d have stayed inside.

  That’s what I told myself as I pushed the driver side door open, bracing myself for the backlash that would follow my checking in on him, as if he ever needed anything from me. Pulling my hood over my head, I climbed out. I’m not sure when cold shoulders turned into an irreparable resentment, but I figured if anything would bring us back together, it could be the end of the world.

  Shoving my hands in my pockets, I made my way toward the back door. The wind had died down, but the cold seeped in, and my sore muscles ached with protest. Even getting out of the shower before I’d left had been a chore, but whether it had been from exhaustion or from being sick, I hadn’t decided yet. When you were drinking like a Frat boy and enough to give yourself alcohol poisoning, it was hard to tell which symptoms were from what.

  The backyard motion light flashed on, and the dogs were unusually quiet. I glanced from the lit window of the living room back to the shadows of the kennels. My dad loved his Husky’s, but seven dogs inside a bachelor pad seemed excessive, even for him. Curiosity winning out, I turned back for the kennel.

  With the motion light on, I could see two of the kennel doors were open, and my footsteps slowed as I reached for my gun. Something was definitely off, and as I drew nearer, I saw the discolored snow. It was blood and then I saw the dog’s foot, the rest of him covered in a layer of snow. An animal attack, maybe. But that didn’t feel right either. I scanned the rest of the kennels, looking for mounds in the snow. Some of them were still in their houses, but all of them were dead. Chills raked over me, and I peered around. This didn’t feel right. He wouldn’t have killed them unless something had happened. I crouched down beside the last dog, brushing off the snow. There was a bullet hole in its gray and brown head.

  Gun in hand, I hurried as quietly as I could up the back steps to the door. Either a crazy fucker was in my dad’s house or my dad turned into a crazy fucker, and I wasn’t taking any chances.

  The back door was cracked open, which meant someone had hastily gone in or come out. I slowly pushed it open and, for the first time since I’d woken to my intruder, the fog around my mind lifted and I stepped inside. My heart was racing. My palms were sweating. Who would shoot seven dogs dead?

  I resisted the urge to call for my dad to see if he was all right and swept every room in the house. The living room was messy, but it didn’t look torn apart. His desk was just as I assumed it would be, organized and untouched, the way the business side of things always had been. There was no sign of a struggle in his bedroom though his rifle was missing from the cabinet. I flipped the light on to find his bathroom in disarray. He’d been looking for something, or someone had been. Whatever he needed, it didn’t look like he’d found it. “Dad!” I shouted, even if I thought it was futile. He could
’ve been hiding some place I hadn’t thought to check. He knew his house better than me. But he didn’t answer. Remembering the garage, I ran back through the house and back into the cold.

  The motion light flicked on again, and I ran toward the garage. There were footprints in the snow I’d missed before. They were smaller than mine, but not by much. They went a dozen different ways, like whoever it had been was running back and forth or pacing. I followed them in circles until I noticed a set of prints veered off and headed for the woods.

  I grabbed a flashlight from the truck and followed the tracks without thought. I wasn’t sure if they were my dad’s shoe prints, but I knew they’d inevitably feed me another answer once I arrived at the other end.

  The tracks were hot and cold, more covered with snow in some areas than others, but like illegal poachers in the spring, I could sniff out a trail when I was looking for one. And when I stumbled upon my dad’s discarded rifle, I knew I was on the right trail. “What the hell were you doing?”

  Pulling the strap over my shoulder, I held my pistol and flashlight in front of me, and made my way through the woods. I studied the imprints in the snow as I drew closer to a large house. The windows were dark and the garage door was open. In a time when anything goes, making my presence known would probably get me killed more than it would save me, so I shut my flashlight off and crept closer in the cover of darkness.

  A vehicle was parked in the driveway around the front, and it looked like it hadn’t moved in days, maybe longer. It was late and the dark house could’ve meant whoever lived there was sleeping, or dead. As morose as the thought was, death would be the lesser of two evils. I hugged the shadows as I peered into the garage. Without moonlight, I could barely make out a heap discarded in the center. I flicked the flashlight on. It was a nylon car cover, but the open safe against the wall caught my attention.

  I stepped closer. A shotgun and case were still inside as were the twenty-gauge shells that belonged to it. I crouched down to the empty shelf near the bottom. A smaller case could’ve laid there, but there was no way of knowing, and I’m not sure it mattered. If anyone here was a threat, they would’ve had the shotgun with them, they’d be stupid not to.