“Not much to look at, are they? But they’re clear, at least… no infection here,” the guard answered with a nod. He stepped aside, allowing the driver and the others to enter the room.
The bearded man looked back. “Don’t take it personal, rookie. Everyone gets checked for infection on arrival,” he said. “Especially cherries.”
The man left the door open, allowing Jacob to follow him into the warm, open space. The guard quickly closed the door behind them as Jesse paused before following them in. The bearded man approached an old, stone fireplace and tossed pieces of split wood to the hot coals. The wood soon burned brightly, heat radiating off the stonework.
The man shed his wet clothing and hung it on wooden hooks so that the fabric dangled near the flame then knelt down beside the fire to warm his hands while water dripped from his soaked beard. He turned back toward Jacob and Jesse and pointed at a far wall. “That’s your spot over there. Drop your gear and get cozy. You ain’t going anywhere ’til morning, so you might as well get comfortable for the time being,” he grunted before turning back to the warmth of the fire.
Jacob walked to the far wall and dropped his bag, hanging the wet wool blanket over the back of a chair to dry. They were in a rustic one-room cabin lit only by the fire blazing in the large fireplace. The windows were all covered with dark drapes, and the floor was made of rough-sawn boards fitted tight and held in place by flathead nails. The floor in front of the fire was covered by a thick rug made of animal fur. On the opposite wall, Jacob spotted the forms of sleeping men near a table in the corner with chairs scattered around it.
He turned to look at Jesse, who was still groggy from his nap in the back of the truck. Jesse was the type who could sleep anytime, anywhere, and on command. The big man dropped his bag and stumbled to the wall then sat back against it. He looked around the room wearily before rubbing his eyes and drifting off to sleep. Jacob was suddenly envious of his friend’s tenacity to rest. He watched as Jesse’s head dipped to the side then rolled back, snoring.
Being ignored by the bearded man at the fire, and his only friend having returned to sleep, Jacob stood, feeling suddenly alone. He was still shivering, his uniform drenched with the cold rainwater that permeated to his bones and made his joints ache. The growling in his stomach reminded him that he’d missed the evening meal to catch his ride. Thunder clapped outside and wind beat hard, pelting rain against the sides of the cabin. For a moment, he missed his warm bed and the furnace in the old training barracks.
Jacob stepped closer into the light of the fire, unzipped his jacket, and let it drop to the large stone mantle. He then moved closer yet to the glowing embers, feeling the warmth as it caused his wet T-shirt to steam. The man turned and looked at him, seeing the agony on Jacob’s face matched by the shivering of his body. “You should be thankful for the rain.”
“What?” Jacob asked, puzzled. “Is this one of those farmer things, good for the crops and flowers and all that shit?”
Showing bright white teeth through his thick beard, the man smiled and squatted down to the mantle, sitting with his back to the fire as he untied his boots. “No, just makes it easier for us to maneuver. The Deltas don’t like it; not sure why, but they seem to hunker down when the weather turns foul like this. Especially cold, miserable nights like this one.”
“Deltas?” Jacob asked.
“Deltas, The Darkness, or whatever you want to call them; black eyes, devils, assholes… take your pick, it’s all the same. You know, you should get out of those boots. Last thing you want is trench foot; you’ll need good feet when we cross the lake. You need to get your wet clothes hung up and dried out.”
Jacob dropped and sat beside the man, undoing his own laces, pulling off the wet boots, and removing his drenched socks. His feet felt cold and clammy, his toes tingling with numbness. He moved his clothing onto hooks embedded into the mantle, letting them hang close to the fire. “You said we’re crossing the lake? Where the hell are we, anyway?” Jacob asked.
Ignoring his question, the man turned and removed a blue steel pot from the fire using a thick leather mitt. He shuffled away from Jacob and filled two mugs resting on the mantle before handing one to Jacob, who sniffed the liquid and made a sour face. The man laughed softly. “Fern tea… might as well get used to it,” he said before replacing the pot.
“We’re just outside of Meaford, still in Canada. This is one of our safe houses between the base and the front lines. We go here to rest up between missions. It’s not great but still better than being on base—more freedom out here. You’re Jacob, right? You can call me James. Sorry for skipping introductions earlier. Sometimes you have to move fast and skip the formalities. I hate traveling alone after dark without an escort, bad weather or not.”
Jacob held the warm cup in his hands, letting the metal thaw his cold fingers. He sipped the tea, the taste becoming easier the more he drank it. He closed his eyes tight and slowly opened them again. “James, why am
