The Big Dark by Philbrick Rodman

Author:Philbrick, Rodman [Philbrick, Rodman]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2016-01-05T23:00:00+00:00

The tail section of the airplane poked out of a massive snowdrift like a hand saluting heaven. Most of the wreckage lay broken and buried, forming snowy lumps as big as trucks, but the tailpiece soared over my head. Not a small airplane, that’s for sure. And not military, which was the first thing that came to mind, because of Aunt Beth in the Air National Guard. Could be one of the regional jets that flew between Manchester and Quebec. Must have lost power and tried to land on the highway. Clipped the trees and broke up, spewing passengers, then got covered by the blizzard. Except for the victims flung into the trees.

Three dead bodies, draped like empty gloves over the bare branches, and coated in layers of ice that glinted in the noonday sun. Gronk has a joke: Where do little ice cubes come from? Popsicles and Momsicles.

Popsicles and Momsicles. Couldn’t unthink that, no matter how hard I tried. Because there might be more bodies buried under the snow, maybe right under my skis. That should be scary or creepy, but instead it just made me feel incredibly sad.

Whatever had happened, it must have taken place moments after the event or pulse, or whatever it was. It was so weird to think that one minute we were all amazed by the shape-shifting lights in the sky, and the next moment everything changed. Lights went out, motors stopped, planes fell to Earth. People died.

Don’t stop, don’t look back. There’s nothing for you here.

And so I pushed on. Down the snow-blanketed highway, down the mountain, down and down. Gronk’s skis slipping over the crusted snow with a sound like a big cat purring.

* * *

An hour or so after the sun peaked—just a guess, because I didn’t have a watch—I stopped, unclipped the skis, and took a break. My thighs ached, and my ankles were a little sore, but despite that, I felt amazingly good. No sign of cramps or blisters or anything. Air temp was definitely above freezing, and my clothes kept me plenty warm.

My plan was working. A few thoughts of Mom and Becca blipped in my head—they’d be going nuts with worry about now—but I forced them out. No time for regrets. I had a task to accomplish. And the task right then, right that instant, was to eat something to keep up my strength.

I retrieved the venison jerky from my backpack and slid open the big Ziploc bag. The smell of smoked meat hit me. Whew! Gronk was right, there must be enough for a month, because each thin slice took a long time to chew and was very filling.

Truth is, I’m not a big fan of jerky, so it helped to be hungry. Even so, I couldn’t finish the third piece and finally tossed it to the ground. Left it for the squirrels or the birds or whatever.

Big mistake, but I didn’t know that at the time.

I hefted the pack up on my shoulders and stepped into the skis.

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