Wrong Side of the Coffin: A WIPpersnappers Anthology

White Nose, Orange Skies (Part 3/3)

(Continued from Part 2...)

My band of survivors didn't care much about my delivery of coins, either, though the truce suited them well enough. The double rations I allowed them for dinner helped cheer them up a good deal as well.

"What?" I asked Lisa, noticing her frown.

"We're low enough as it is."

"And down to skin and bones," I said, gesturing to our own little camp city. A line of chattering survivors had formed as our cooks worked their magic on our little stockpile, doling out mashed potatoes and gravy with a peculiar sandy grit to them. The rest were in scattered groups, talking excitedly despite their hollowed eyes and thin physiques. It was as happy as I'd seen them in months. "We'll cut back tomorrow. Besides, we might find some elk or mountain goats up here. Remember that herd of deer we ran into on the way up here?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you," Lisa said heavily, shaking her head. "That meat's all gone, and this isn't the paradise you sold us on. The climate's caused havoc on all animals. I've been talking with the eggheads," she said, gesturing at the table where Dr. Mathers and a few of our older survivors had gathered, all holding college degrees earned before the Collapse. "Elk have been hunted almost to extinction by now, nobody I've talked to has seen a honeybee in years, white-nose syndrome has killed just about all the bats in North America, and we've got birds tumbling from the air in exhaustion just trying to outrun the wildfires. We've barely even caught any fish from the lakes and streams here."

"We made it," I insisted, stubborn as ever. "We'll make it work."

Lisa gritted her teeth and said nothing for a long moment. The pleasant banter of the survivors around us now felt somewhat hollow. "The two we've sent to the lake haven't yet returned," she said, switching topics abruptly. "Thought I'd let you know."

I blinked. "Think I should check on them?"

"Someone should."

I nodded, rising to my feet. Frank had gathered with the others I'd gone on patrol with, gesturing expansively as his vape trailed mist into the air. "Eight wild dogs, most as big as you, and the Civil Guard caravan were caught totally off guard—"

"I hate to break in, but we're back on patrol."

To their credit, the men and women rose at once, setting their half-finished meals aside. Frank pocketed his vape, twisting his mouth as he looked at me.

"Did you eat, Chief?"

"No time."

***

The sight had been as grim as it had been expected. The gaunt face of one of our scavengers stared upward as shovelfuls of dirt fell atop her. Her companion had been found nearby, both of them bloodless and with the same peculiar puncture wounds, and now they lay within two freshly dug graves.

"It preys at night," I observed. "And two people weren't enough to scare it off." I sighed, but my decision had already been made. "You three," I said, pointing out half of the fighters standing before me. "I want you to circle clockwise around our perimeter and return to camp at dawn. And you three, take a counterclockwise route. Be thorough but don't get jumpy. The last thing we need is to shoot each other."

"And us, Chief?" Frank asked as the others nodded.

"We'll go on a circuit around the lake and see if we can flush whatever this is out of hiding. It can't have gone far," I said, striding past them and toward the shimmering surface of the lake. For a time we continued, circling around the willow trees nearby, moving at a slow and cautious pace all the while.