He thought of Amanda and how that could have been her. It sent chills up his spine, and his sweat cooled on his body. Even now, fate was spinning its web, tossing out strands that could take down each one of them. A toothache, a virus, frostbite, the entire world seemed comprised of traps, like some sort of twisted horror house, and in addition to all of that, they had the normal things to worry about—starvation, exhaustion, broken bones, and the hordes of Annies that wanted to eat them.
They did their trick, circling through office buildings and industrial plazas until they lost their tail. They heard no more shotgun blasts. Either the lady was dead, or she survived, but she wasn't any of their concern now. They found a secure office building on the corner of Evergreen Parkway and Cornelius Pass Rd. It, too, was surrounded by a wrought-iron fence, offering at least a modicum of protection.
They did their up-and-over trick, smashed a window, and then sat inside, as far away from the broken window and the chill breeze that howled through it as they could get. As soon as they stopped, Rudy felt the cold. He felt it in his hands, his arms, his cheeks, but most of all, he felt it in his feet.
"I want hot soup in all of you," Tejada said as they set up their bedrolls. "Get them socks off, and dry 'em out over the stove. Make sure you don't burn the damn things. Nothing smells worse than a burnt set of sweaty socks."
They did as they were told. While they each took turns heating up soup to eat, they sharpened their hatchets on a whetstone. They were silent, but for the hiss of the propane stove, the occasional bubbling of boiling soup, and the rasp of metal being dragged across whetstone, a rectangular hunk of artificially manufactured silicon carbide.
Rudy sat on the industrial carpet of the office building, feeling naked without his shoes on. Tejada came by and checked his feet, his face, and his fingers for any blackening or telltale signs of frostbite. They had only been outside for four hours, but it felt longer. Pushing through the snow that came up to just below his knee had been an excruciating workout. He felt soreness settling into his hips, and he dreaded doing the same tomorrow. Perhaps the sun had broken the snow up a little bit. Maybe tomorrow would be easier.
When his time to make soup came ready, he opened up a can of split-pea soup. He hated it, but he was trying to make it through the shit in his pack that he actually didn't care for. He would save the good stuff for later. They broke up and redistributed the contents of Day's backpack. They spread cans of food and handfuls of ammunition around the room, along with extra socks. They left the underwear in the bag. No one was quite willing to go that far.
Inside Day's pack, they found nothing personal, and it seemed as if with his goods shared out among them, he had all but disappeared. Brown lay in the corner with his back to them, silently muttering a prayer, his lips moving along with the words. Rudy didn't believe in religion, but on the odd chance that there was someone up above, a cruel prankster, he gave himself a moment to send up a kind word for Day.
When his can of soup was ready, he wrapped one of his damp socks around the can and sat in the corner. Amanda was next up at the stove. He held the can for a long time in his hands. When his fingers started to feel like fingers again, he placed the warm can on his feet, working it along each of his toes until he could feel them as well. He couldn't imagine what the temperature would be like in the mountains. It couldn't possibly be worse than here, at least, that's what he hoped.
When Amanda's soup had heated thoroughly, she came back and sat next to him and went through the same routine that he had. Despite the spaciousness of the office, they all huddled together in one corner of the building. He didn't know if they were afraid to be separated or if they just wanted the comfort of other people around them, but no one went off to find their own corner to sleep in.
When the sounds of praying, slurping, and sharpening had stopped, they made their beds, and they went to sleep, as silent as they had ever been. Day had not been the most beloved of men, but he had been one of them, and his absence was felt. It was a long time before any of them fell asleep, tucked into their sleeping bags, wondering who would be next.
****
Walt drew first watch. He sat next to the glowing square of the busted window, listening to the crunch of snow as the dead kept their own watch on the other side of the wrought-iron fence. There were fewer Annies in the area. They had moved through the populated part of Beaverton, and now sat in a pocket of industrial buildings. The parking lots were empty, but for a few cars here and there.
A quick search of the office building had revealed nothing other than a few disposable snacks and candy. There had been no bodies for once. Starlight reflected off of the snow, but he kept back from the window. There was no point in winding up the Annies in the darkness. He didn't know if they would be able to see him through the busted window, but he didn't think it would be worth risking it. You didn't tease a hungry lion by
