The Long Dark by B.J. Farmer

The Long Dark by B.J. Farmer

Author:B.J. Farmer [Farmer, B.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-01T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7


Life without the Ripsaw wasn’t good. The van was then currently stuck in a snowdrift a couple of miles from town. Sam was cussing as much as the tires were spinning. Everyone, aside from him and Lydia, was outside pushing the van. Finally, after several minutes of slipping tires and fuming tempers, the van caught just enough traction to get us going again.

Sam and Jack sat in the two front seats. Lydia and I sat in the next row, and Duane brought up the rear with the weapons and gear. He was the best shot. The thinking was if anyone got behind us, he was the best chance at taking them out before they made cheddar cheese of the flimsy-ass van.

Everywhere you looked were snowcapped trees—hell, snowcapped everything. The sun was out in force, too, its rays reflecting off the whiteness, blanketing us in blinding light. With so much darkness behind us, plus all the time in the bunker, our eyes—or maybe it was just mine—hadn’t adjusted to the sunny conditions. Or perhaps it was that bright outside. I guess it didn’t matter too much other than I could’ve used some sunglasses.

Trees and time seemed to pass by slowly. Sam would intermittently speed up or slow down, depending on how crappy the road was. Up ahead were two cars stopped within just a few feet away from one another, almost side by side, blocking the way. Sam eased the van to stop, a nervous whistle escaped his lips.

Both cars appeared empty. That two cars, one going and the other coming would be blocking the road as they were, nearly side by side, without underlying nefarious motives, seemed unlikely.

“What we doin’?”

By this point, the trees had disappeared. A quarry lay off to our right and a rough, unkempt line of undergrowth to our left. There didn’t seem to be any good places to set up an ambush. Even if there had been, who in the hell would lay in the cold-ass bushes for what could’ve been days waiting for someone to pass by?

“Can we go around?”

He shook his head slightly, not taking his eyes off the road. “Not ‘less you wont ta get stuck, ‘gain.”

“Just stop. We’ll push one of the vehicles out of the way.”

“’At’s a better idea, I guess”

Duane, gun ready, stood nearby as Jack and I pushed the Toyota out of the way. Out of left field, Jack said something odd as he grunted under the exertion. “We saw a lot of parachutes the night we got Lydia. How many more do you think have dropped since then?”

The hair on the back of my arms and the nape of my neck stood on end. My eyes darted as did Jack’s, as we suddenly became more worried about our surroundings. “Too many,” I finally said.

That thought lingered as I quickly made my way back to the van.

A mile or so later, we turned right on Steese Highway. Even though the next several miles were uneventful, I dwelled on the issue of the Russians.


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