The Raven's Gift - Don Rearden [72]
Behind the turbines sat the blackened wood skeleton of a large rectangular house, and beside the house a forty-foot-round metal fuel tank. The painted tank looked something like a giant Coca-Cola can that had been cut in half and turned into a workshop or house of some kind.
“You two wait here for me. Can you shoot this?”
The old woman nodded.
“I’ll trade you.”
The old woman took the rifle and handed him her shotgun and four shells that she pulled from her parka pocket.
“If anyone other than me comes this way, start shooting. I’ll signal if it’s okay to follow.”
As he got up, the old woman reached out and grabbed his hand. She didn’t say anything, just squeezed his glove, gave it a firm shake, and dropped it.
He stood up and scrambled toward the tank, trying to stay as low to the ground as he could, but at the same time realizing he was one large easy target against a flat white backdrop.
He reached the first turbine pole and pressed himself against it. The pole vibrated with the hum of the blades turning above him. The houses stretched in a row toward the east, and most of them looked to be in the same condition as most of the village houses he had seen. Burned out. Windows broken. Lifeless.
A heavy black cable ran down the tower with the flashing light and into a metal tube that spanned the distance from where he was standing to the tank. There was a chance that the turbines simply powered the light and nothing else, but there was also a chance that someone was inside the tank.
After a quick check to make sure the barrel of the shotgun was clear of snow, he started toward the round container, the shotgun held waist high. His steps were slow, and he watched for the slightest movement. If someone was inside, now they surely knew he was coming. The tank and the turbines wouldn’t have remained without some sort of struggle. He was sure of that.
He looked back quickly to check the old woman and the girl and was relieved that they were barely visible. Just two small, dark lumps two hundred yards out. As he turned back he caught sight of a bright red line cutting through the mist of ice and snow his boot had kicked up. A laser perimeter. He’d seen something similar on a television show about hunting man-eating tigers and the men who put themselves out as bait to hunt them. If people inside hadn’t known he was coming, they did now.
A square slot in the side of the tank opened and a rifle barrel slid out. He thought about running, but doubted there was any use. He lowered the shotgun and raised his right hand in a half-hearted wave.
“Don’t shoot. I’m not looking for trouble.”
“And I’m supposed to ignore the two riflemen you have waiting for me out there?”
The voice from inside the tank sounded high and raspy.
Before he answered, he turned back and looked out toward them.
“I’ve got an old woman and a girl travelling with me. The old woman does have a rifle, and she’ll use it, but like I said, we’re not looking for trouble.”
“A little late for trouble. What do you want?”
“Saw the light. Hoped you might be able to help us.”
“Damn light. I oughta shoot it out. Look, I don’t have any food to spare, if that’s what you want.”
“We don’t need food. Just a safe place to stay tonight. And listen, I need to know—is it all gone? I mean the rest of the States. What the hell happened?”
“You don’t need food?”
He shook his head. “We can make do with what we’ve got for now. Do you have news?”
“News? I’ll tell you what. You shell out the food for dinner tonight, and you can stay here. I’ll tell you what I know, but I don’t think I have to warn you. I’ll shoot you as soon as look at you any longer.”
John nodded.
“Bring those two around the front. There’s a metal cabinet there. Lock your weapons inside. You can keep the key. I’ll open the doors when you’ve locked them away.”
“Thank you.”
He turned and waved and the old woman and the girl slowly got to their feet. He started out to meet them and help pull the sleds. The wind picked up and the turbines whined, and as he walked toward his two travel companions,