The Long Dark by B.J. Farmer (important books to read .TXT) 📗

“Hell, I’d take Kabuki at ‘is point,” he said, as he walked towards another lump.

“Kabuki?”

“He probably means Kabul, Afghanistan.”

“Just keep yer gun ready ta shoot at somethin.”

Every lump of snow contained a body or, most often, bodies. Almost all of them were Grays, but there was a smattering of non-afflicted people mixed in. There were knife wounds, throats torn out, eyes gouged, and whole litany of macabre and terrible ways of dying on display. I guessed there were a thousand or so bodies scattered in and around Prudhoe Bay, most of which centered around the hotel and airport.

We drove to the rear of the hotel. There were dozens of large shipping containers just yards away from the side entrance of the hotel. There were also at least two rooms we could occupy that provided a view of the containers, plus a quick retreat through the exit if we needed to make a fast getaway. I told Sam to hide the Ripsaw amongst them. We would check the place out, and, if it were safe, we’d take a much-needed break and sleep in a real bed.

***

Avery wasted little time reminding me incessantly about the internet. After trying the television in the room, we had taken occupancy of and getting nothing but digital noise, I had no hope it’d be any different. I knew he wouldn’t be satisfied unless we tried.

Sam wanted to stay behind and watch the truck while we were gone. Avery and I were about to leave the room when Sam motioned towards the wall. “You might want ta grab ‘at,” talking about the AR-15 rifle.

“Hopefully, I won’t need it.”

“Hopefully,” he said, scooting a recliner near the window.

The hallway that led to the lobby was immaculate, aside from a few patches of mud on the carpet and one pair of work boots sitting neatly outside one of the rooms. Avery craned his neck as he walked by, no doubt mulling over any number of scenarios in which they might’ve come to reside there.

The normality of the hallway belied what we saw once we opened the door to the main lobby. The sound of the wind blowing through at least two broken windows made it hard to speak in a conversational tone. A fine dusting of snow interspersed with office supplies and general debris covered the floor and the main desk.

We paused just inside. I smacked the wall two hard times and waited for a response. Nothing. Guns up, we made our way to the desk. A chair was turned away from us; a head full of shiny auburn hair covered the backside of the chair. “Miss?” No reply.

I knew this was going to be bad. I walked around the counter, training my gun on the woman’s head, but there was no need. The wounds on her face and neck made clear she was gone. “Fuck,” I said.

Behind her lay the bodies of two other people. The way they were tangled, it was clear they were engaged in a life and death struggle for which both seemed to have lost.

“Let’s make this fast,” I said, scanning the darkness that filled the void outside the hotel. We were lit up like Christmas trees in there. Anyone outside would have a perfect view of every move we made.

Avery tried to pull the chair the woman was sitting in away from the front desk, but it got caught on something, causing her to fall to the floor in a sickening thump. Unfazed, he grabbed one of her cold hands and gently dragged her the requisite few feet away so he could access the computer.

After he’d pulled her out of the way, I paid him close attention, making sure he was okay. He seemed utterly unfazed as he typed something into the address bar of the web browser. There was a long pause. “Redirecting.”

It took several minutes for the site to load in. Once it did, Avery and I looked at one another. The internet browser redirected to a website called happytime.com. The page contained an image consisting of a single picture of three people on a red and yellow background, a farmer, a soldier, and a man wearing a suit, pointing towards the west. The other two looked doggedly in the direction of the viewer. Every site Avery checked redirected to that page.

“I would expect something less overt than this,” Avery said, now sitting in the dead woman’s office chair. “While I am no expert, that seems to be North Korean iconography.”

“What is that?”

“An interpretation of their society, in this case, through their own lens.”

“Yeah, well… ain’t that sweet. There’s nothing we can do here. Let’s get back to the room.”

Without as much as a nod, he grabbed his shotgun that was leaning against a filing cabinet and headed back to the room.

Sam looked us over, as we entered the room, paying Avery extra attention. Without saying a word, Avery walked over to the bed, threw the covers to the side, kicked off his boots, and then threw his coat on the floor. He was asleep within minutes of his head, hitting his pillow.

I told Sam what we had encountered in the lobby and what we learned from trying to access the internet. His only reply was, “Shit.”

I had to agree.

***

Sleeping as deeply as I was, I nearly jumped out of my boots when I heard Sam yelling. Through matted eyes, I made out the blurry image of Sam and Avery crowded around the small window.

“Why didn’t you wake me up, boy, and what the hell are you lookin at out ‘ere?”

Clearing the sleep from my eyes, I asked, “What now?”

“Avery done let me sleep through my rotation.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“Come look out the winder and see what the damn problem is.”

I did as Sam asked.  “What the--”

Not even bothering with my coat, I reached for my rifle.

“Why would you need that?” Avery asked.

“How long has she been out there, Avery?”

“She showed up ten minutes after my watch began.