Exodus (31 page)

Rhiannon clearly wanted out of the claustrophobic cab, but she nodded her acknowledgment.

There were no signs of any other survivors in the camp—no telltale smoke from a fire, no fresh tracks in the snow. Of course that didn’t mean that there couldn’t be someone inside any of these buildings. The rumble of the Cat’s engine would have traveled for miles, arriving long before they had and alerting anyone or anything that they were going to have visitors.

Emily climbed the wooden steps up to the entrance and pushed open the door with her shoulder. Leaning inside, she quickly looked over the room. There was a rickety-looking reception desk and a well-worn but comfortable-looking sofa in one corner. A selection of candy bars on a rack in front of the register
sat next to a line of mummified sandwiches. Against the farthest wall was a glass-fronted refrigerator with a selection of still-frozen ice cream on one of the shelves. Several liter-size bottles of soda were lined up like soldiers along a metal rack next to the refrigerator.

Emily made her way down the corridor connecting the reception area to the rooms and checked each room one by one.

She settled on the last room at the farthest end of the building. The beds were still made, each with a thick gray blanket. The room was also the farthest from the entrance, so there was only one direction any possible threat could come from, which meant she would be able to sleep a little more comfortably.

Back at the Cat, Emily collected Rhiannon and Thor, along with their supplies, then led them back through the building to their accommodations.

Rhiannon made a face when she saw the wood-lined walls of the tiny room, but she flopped down on the left bed with a huge sigh as though she had been on her feet all day instead of cruising in the comfort of a heated cab, snoozing her way through the majority of the journey.

The room was far too small for them to use the gas cooker safely, so Emily designated the next room down as their kitchen for the evening and set up the gas stove on the floor between the beds in that room. Despite the relative comfort the Cat had afforded them, they were both looking forward to something hot, Emily thought as she heated the stew. They were both tired of the granola bars and bags of chips they had snacked on for most of the journey since leaving Fairbanks. Emily still had a couple of cans of Dinty Moore beef stew that she had been saving, and her mouth began to water at the thought of it, even though the stuff gave her awful gas. Well, she could always blame Thor.

Back in their room, Emily found Rhiannon sitting on the side of her bed. The girl’s head was in her hands and tears rolled down her cheeks, forming a tiny partially frozen pool of spilled emotion between her feet. Thor was sitting next to the girl on the bed, his head in her lap, his eyes fixed on the child.

“Hey?” said Emily, gently setting the bowls of steaming stew on the floor. “What’s wrong, kiddo?” It took Rhiannon a few moments to gather herself before she answered.

“What day is it?” she said.

Emily had to pause for a moment and think. Jeez? She hadn’t given it much thought, but she was pretty sure it was…“Thursday,” she said. “Yeah. It’s a Thursday. Why?”

“But what date…What date is it?”

Emily did some quick math in her head. “It’s the twenty-fourth,” she replied. This apparently was the wrong answer because the girl burst into tears again.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Emily slid in next to the girl, their parkas crackling against each other as she placed her arm around Rhiannon’s shoulder, pulling her close. “What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?”

Through a barrage of sniffles and tears Rhiannon turned and looked at Emily. “It’s my birthday,” she said. “Today’s my birthday.”

Emily was taken aback, but after a moment, she leaned in and gave Rhiannon a kiss on the crown of her head. “Happy birthday,” she said, pulling back and smiling as genuinely as she could. “How old are you?”

“Thirteen.”

“Wow! You’re a teenager, kiddo. Congratulations. We have to do something special. Hold on here for a moment.” Emily grabbed the flashlight and headed out of the room, toward the reception area. Pushing through the doors, she shone her light around the
darkening room until she found what she was looking for. She pulled open the door to the refrigerator and grabbed a selection of the ice-cream cartons and a liter of Coke to go with it. The Coke was almost ice, but she figured she could squeeze out a glass or so each; it might be a little slushy, but still…

“Here you go, birthday girl,” she said as she reentered the room. “Sorry I don’t have any candles.” She handed the girl a fork from the backpack. “Or clean spoons,” she added with a smile. “You know, the best way to eat ice cream is with a fork anyway. Makes it easier.” To illustrate the point, Emily popped the top off the tub of Strawberry Surprise and scooped a forkful into her mouth.

“Mmmmm! Mmmmm! Mmmmm! Here, try some.” Rhiannon halfheartedly dug into the tub and pulled out a large chunk of strawberry-laden ice cream and took a bite while Thor watched expectantly.

“Can’t leave you out, can we?” said Emily as she tossed Thor a piece of the frozen confectionery. He swallowed it whole and beat his tail against the blanket in appreciation. “Nope. No more for you until you wish Rhiannon a happy birthday,” she insisted. This brought a smile to Rhia’s face, and Emily seized the moment, popping open the tub of double chocolate fudge. Rhiannon’s eyes lit up as she chewed the ice cream, savoring the flavor.

“Owww,” she said. “Brain freeze.”

For some reason the irony of eating ice cream in a freezing shack just a few miles from the edge of the Arctic Circle and getting brain freeze suddenly became the funniest thing both Rhiannon and Emily had ever heard. It started with a fit of giggles from Rhiannon, as she clasped her hand to her forehead, and quickly spread to Emily, then back to Rhiannon until they
were both roaring with laughter. Thor skipped between the two, barking his confusion but happy to join in anyway.

In the midst of the laughter, Emily had an idea. She glanced out the window. There was still enough light left for what she was planning.

“Okay, birthday girl. Why don’t you grab those two plastic boxes from inside the backpack for me?”

Rhiannon looked perplexed. “These?” she asked as she pulled the two plastic cases containing the pistols Emily had scavenged from the store back in Fairbanks. Opening the cases, Emily pulled out the Glock and then the smaller Ruger Bearcat revolver.

“Guns?” said Rhiannon, a little awed.

Emily smiled back at her. “One for each of us,” she said and winked. She checked both pistols, trying to remember the lessons Nathan had given to her on handling guns so very long ago, then loaded them carefully, adding a handful of extra ammo for each weapon into both her jacket’s front pockets. Rhiannon watched her intently as she worked on the pistols.

“All right,” Emily said finally, satisfied the pistols were safe. “Eat your stew and then let’s go shoot something.”

They stood just outside the reception building, facing a drift of snow. Emily had placed the empty cans of stew on the top of the drift, then added four bottles of frozen soda.

“The most important thing is to always treat a gun like it’s loaded,” said Emily as she unpacked the two pistols from their cases. “And never point it at anyone, or anything…unless you intend to shoot it.”

Emily popped out the cylinder of the Ruger and checked it was empty, then handed it to Rhiannon. “How’s it feel?”

Rhiannon balanced the little pistol in her hand, gauging its weight. “It’s lighter than I thought,” she said.

“Yeah, well, it’s just a beginner’s pistol, so it’s a good one to start you off with. You want to shoot something?”

Rhia nodded enthusiastically. Emily beckoned for the gun back and proceeded to load it from the box of .22 rounds. “See, you pop open the chamber like this.” Emily pressed the release on the side of the pistol and the chamber slipped out. “Then you insert one round into each of the holes,” she continued as she loaded the pistol. “And always make sure your finger is off the trigger, okay? Here you go.” She handed the loaded weapon back to the girl.

Emily moved behind Rhia and took both her wrists in her hands. “So now you need to stand with your feet a little bit apart.” Emily demonstrated the correct shooting stance. “That’s it, maybe just a little wider. Perfect. Now, bring the arm with your pistol in it up and point it in the direction of the target. Bring your other hand up and cup it around the gun hand like this…That’s right. How’s that feel?”

“Okay,” said Rhiannon, suppressing a nervous giggle.

“All right, now look through the notch on the rear sight until you see the pokey-up bit at the end of the barrel. Got it? Now make sure they are level with each other. Focus on that front sight again—make sure you keep both sights level—and put it over what you want to shoot.”

Emily let go of the girl and allowed her to position the gun herself.

“I’m really nervous.”

“That’s okay, sweetie. So was I the first time I fired a gun, but there’s no need to be. Just relax and concentrate. Now use your thumb to pull back the hammer.”

Emily watched as Rhia slipped her thumb over the notched hammer and pulled it back until it clicked into place.

“Perfect. You ready? Okay, put your finger on the trigger, but don’t pull it yet. Now breathe just a little bit, and, when you’re ready, pull the trigger real slow.”

Rhiannon let out a nervous squeak at the crack of the gun firing, completely missing any of the targets they had set up. The squeak quickly flowed into a fit of excited giggles as she brought the gun back up on the next target, cocked it, and squeezed off another round. That one went wide, too. But her third shot clipped a can and sent it spinning into the air.

“Yes!” she yelled, waving both hands in the air.

“Careful, that thing’s still loaded. You don’t want to accidentally shoot yourself…or me.”

“Sorry.”

“S’okay. Just remember guns are dangerous. Let’s try again.”

Emily had been waiting for an appropriate time to teach the kid how to shoot since she had picked up the pistols in Fairbanks. The sooner she learned, the safer she would be. The future was an unknown quantity for all of them now, and Emily would need to pass on as many of her survival skills as possible to the girl.

Emily waited until Rhiannon had fired off all six rounds, then showed her how to pop open the cylinder, dump the spent cartridges, and reload with new ammo. As she watched Rhia carefully aim and fire off each round, she checked her Glock, fed rounds into the magazine, and slammed it home.

“Not bad,” she said, “Not bad at all.” Actually the kid was pretty damn good, hitting four of the six targets. For a kid who had never fired a gun before, that was quite impressive.

When Rhia had discharged her final round, Emily asked her to empty the gun and set it aside. “Go set up those targets for me, would you?”

Rhia crunched through the snow and set the fallen cans and plastic bottles upright again, then crunched her way back to Emily.

It had been a while since she had fired a handgun, and it had never been her favorite thing to do. She preferred the stopping power of her Mossberg, but the pistol would be a more convenient weapon to carry with her than the shotgun, and it was quite easily concealed, too.

Making sure Rhiannon was behind her, she sighted on the first target and fired, popping the can into the air. She took aim at the next and sent that one cartwheeling away, too. She finished off the rest of the targets with similar efficiency; the boom of the nine-millimeter rounds echoed around the camp.

“Now I know who to call if we’re ever attacked by a roving band of canned fruit,” laughed Rhiannon.

“You’re pretty sassy for a kid who only managed to hit half her targets,” mocked Emily, sticking her tongue out at the girl. “Why don’t you see if you can do better this time?”

They spent another half hour plinking away at their makeshift targets, which by then were little more than shredded metal and plastic. By the time they packed their weapons away, Rhiannon was able to hit everything she aimed at. She was turning into a regular Katniss…minus the bow.

They made their way back to the bedroom by the light of their flashlights. Emily pulled the blanket back from Rhiannon’s bed for her. “Climb in, birthday girl,” she said, her own eyes beginning
to ache with exhaustion. Rhiannon slipped between the sheets and turned to face Emily; the fur around her parka’s hood surrounded her face like a halo.

“Will you sleep next to me?” she asked, the hint of embarrassment in her voice all but hidden by the return of her sadness.

Emily hesitated, then climbed in next to her, pulled the blanket over both of them, and slipped her arm around the girl’s chest, pulling her close.

“Emily?” Rhia asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“I miss my daddy and Ben.”

Emily had to gain control of her own emotions before she answered. “I know, baby. I know.”