Cam stared at the shuttered windows letting in slim cracks of light. He wished he didn’t feel so shitty about leaving. Damned if he stayed. Damned if he left. He couldn’t win.
***
Lissa wore snowshoes, and finding some for himself in Crawford was high on Cam’s list during the expedition into town. He glanced at the white sky. The normal winter temperature was holding, overcast and cold. If he woke up to an ultra-clear morning, he’d wait to leave until he could trust the conditions. A freeze snap when journeying remained a risk, but on snowshoes, he’d make the best time possible.
Cam also worried about how he would hike five miles into Crawford through the deep snow—his foot throbbed just thinking about the walk—but he shouldn’t have, because for the first part, he wouldn’t be on his feet. Lissa had two toboggans roped together like a train they would ride for the descent through the forest along the lengthy driveway to the road below. They loaded onto the front one at the top of a clear path through the trees—what she said was the steep driveway—towing the second sled.
Lissa sat in the front to steer, while he sat behind, wrapping his legs around her. They whizzed through the forest and down the hill. Cam grinned, holding on as Lissa piloted through the narrow run. His face grew chilled as the winter air rushed past. It would be a brutal climb returning, but she’d cartedhundreds of gallon tins of food up the final hill. So together, they should manage a stove, even if the expedition might take all afternoon. Once more, he found himself impressed with her resourcefulness and grit.
Despite the deep snow, the sleds shot out onto a more obvious snow-covered road, which they followed three miles into town, walking once it was too flat to ride. With the sun glinting on the white expanse, it was bright enough that they lowered their goggles. They kept a steady pace and arrived in town before lunch.
Crawford appeared to be deserted, with pristine, untouched snow and drifts against the clusters of buildings lining the abandoned downtown. The businesses, with their broken windows, appeared to have been ransacked years ago. Most ordinary houses were buried past the lower half of the windows. He glanced back at the obvious trail they’d left as they entered town. Anyone who ran across their wake could follow. Hopefully, the Slains were holed up for the winter in their compound a couple of hundred miles away in Wyoming.
Suddenly, Cam didn’t like this idea. Out here in the open, they were exposed. Even when he left, he’d be putting Lissa in danger with his tracks. He’d have to disguise his trail when he left her place. He exhaled, not wanting to dwell on everything that could go wrong. In the next couple of days, he hoped they’d have fresh snow to eliminate traces of this trip.
“Have you ever seen anyone here?” said Cam, searching each building they passed for signs of life. “In Crawford.”
Lissa shook her head. “Not once.” Despite her assurance, he didn’t feel better and remained on alert. “There are several houses I’ve been in so often, I’ll know if anyone else has gone through. I watch for smoke, too. If anyone’s here this time of year, they’ll have a fire.”
Cam huffed out a breath. He should have known she took precautions to be safe. He worked up a sweat walking on the packed snow behind Lissa and the sleds as she headed to the north side of town. With the uneven footing, he was careful not to turn his ankle on the unknown terrain beneath the surface.
In the distance, Crawford’s iconic bluffs, part of the Pine Ridge escarpment, rose above the town. Covered in snow, they resembled giant marshmallows perched on the cliffs. People used to come here for hiking and outdoor activities. Now, he hoped they would stay away.
Cam scanned the area, his eyes in constant motion while they crossed the abandoned downtown and nearby neighborhood. He monitored the skies while they trudged north. No smoke, just dull light gray and white skies. At the far end of the neighborhood they entered, Lissa pointed to a faded yellow house with an attached three-car garage.
“We can get in from the back.” She led the way to the rear, hiking easily with her snowshoes and hauling the sleds, packing the trail for Cam to follow. “Someone ransacked the houses before I arrived, but somehow they missed the garage. This one had all kinds of gear, and it’s where I found my snowshoes. The dehydrated food was here too.”
“So, this is your favorite store.” He grinned, surveying the grand house. There were three chimneys, one at the front and two at the back. Maybe one connected to a woodstove they could scavenge. If not, they might have to search other houses. He didn’t have time to return on another day.
They parked the sleds behind the house, where she made quick work of the lock at the back door. Inside was cold and dusty. Most of the windows remained intact, letting in pale daylight from outside. The interior felt like a museum, with vaulted ceilings, white walls, and framed artwork. Here and there, faded rectangles showed where pictures, perhapsphotographs, had hung before they’d been taken. The owners had probably evacuated east.
Their footsteps echoed as Lissa led the way to the interior garage door. It was darker here than in the house, so Lissa lit her candle lantern, their shadows flickering over the floor. Cam lit his as well, and the patch of yellow light grew. He glanced around the garage, hollow without cars. Though Lissa had been here many times, she’d left no obvious mess or trail. Nothing to reveal the hidden treasure.
“There’s gear on the far side. Let’s find snowshoes first.” She spoke in a hushed voice, the sound echoing in the cavernous space. On the far side was a rack with several bikes, various sets of cross-country and downhill skis, and an assortment of snowshoes. Gaps on the hooks showed some of the equipment had been removed, but there were still plenty of options. Score. He selected a pair of snowshoes much like Lissa’s, modern and compact.
They were lighter than expected, made of lightweight aluminum, while the decking was made of a sturdy composite material. He flexed the frame, finding it hard and stiff. He flipped the snowshoe over. The bottom had built-in small metal spikes. If the crust of the snow was slippery or he hit ice, they’d have the grip. Perfect.
“These will be great.” He grabbed the match and set them on the cement floor, where he jammed his foot into the bindings to be sure they fit. It took a couple of tries to become proficient at putting them on and taking them off. He took a few steps on the concrete floor, liking how he moved naturally.
Lissa passed him a strap from the wall. “So you can bind them together outside your pack when you aren’t wearing them.”
“Thanks.” He unclipped the bindings and bound the snowshoes to his pack.
On the way back inside the house, she stopped at a thick barrier dividing the workshop area from the rest of the spacious garage. She thumped on the plywood wall. “I’ve made a small dent in it, but there are tons more cans in here.” Flipping a series of metal clips, the wall opened like a series of cupboard doors with hundreds of gallon-sized cans inside.
His gaze traveled the length of the wall with several dozen more clips. She could survive for years on a stash like this.
Lissa scanned the labels and grabbed four large cans, stuffing them inside her empty pack. “My pancake mix was running low, and now I can also make biscuits whenever I want,” she said with a half-smile. She fixed the clips, making the wall appear ordinary again.
“I can’t believe you found all this food,” he said, even more impressed with her resourcefulness. She really was something special. They returned to the rest of the house. “Let’s look for a stove.”
They struck out in the front living room, a spacious room with vaulted ceilings and a massive flatscreen TV that covered most of one wall. On one side was a gas fireplace. No good. They moved on to the next room. Cam looked down at their wet footprints on the beige carpet. He grimaced at leaving marks—even if nobody lived here anymore. It felt wrong to make a mess.
The family room at the back had a wood-burning fireplace. Strike two.
They found what he was looking for in a games room. The rectangular stove resembled a cast-iron microwave with four curved legs and feet. It had a flat area on top suited for cooking and long handles on square doors where it opened in the front. He pictured Lissa’s kitchen with the tile floor. The stove would look great tucked into the space for the range. He’d hook the stovepipe into the range hood, venting outside the house.
“Does your kitchen have cooking pots?” said Cam. “Nice ones?” If she didn’t, this place might have some. He opened both stove doors, making sure everything was in working order.
