Another load in the wheelbarrow. It would have to be the last. His feet were numb and his hands nearly so. He was afraid he wouldn't be able hold the handles. If he fell he might not be able to get up. If he fell, he might not try to get up. Before he grasped the handles he stopped. He had never thought of himself as an outdoorsman, but he had always loved being outside.
Since the snow had stopped, there had not been a sound, not a breath of wind. It had been years since he had seen so many stars. O silent night! Even the fires were gone now. After the final blackout, points of light had appeared on the horizon toward Granite Shoals and Marble Falls, too bright and orange to be anything else. He could imagine. No power. No heat. Roving, freezing gangs burning whatever they could, setting fire to homes, standing as close as they dared while their front sides warmed and their backsides froze. The horizon was dark again, now.
He took the barrow in his frozen hands and started his last trudge to the cabin.
