Storm Girls (The Juniper Wars Book 4) by Aaron Ritchey (best books to read for teens .txt) 📗

rigged up snowshoes for Marilyn. I’d test the shoes on her first, then I’d do the Audrey if it worked.

I was cold, I ached, I was on the other side of tired, but working on engineering I forgot about my pains, even my throbbing feet. I remembered stories of Maggie Jankowski working day and night, ordering breakfasts in the morning and eating them as leftovers for lunch, dinner, and breakfast the next morning after having worked all night.

If she could do it to save the world with the Eterna batteries, well, I could do it to get us over Independence Pass—aptly named for us. If we could get over the ice and snow, we could free ourselves from Tibbs Hoyt and the ARK. Free the world. A true Independence Day for everyone.

Still, my mind niggled at me. How come Marisol hadn’t known Eryn Lopez?

And were the hogs up here, camped out in the snow, waiting on us like trolls waiting on billy goats?

(ii)

I stood by as Wren raised the Marilyn’s right foot and the latticework of handles and bars all spiderwebbed together with silver duct tape. The foot came down in the snow and I winced at the cracking and splintering. The left foot came forward with more complaining from the tools taped to the foot. But right foot, left foot, each foot held. The various tools were so sticky and tangled, a little breakage didn’t matter.

And lickety-split, the Marilyn stomped up and over the snowdrift. My snowshoes worked great.

Fifteen minutes later, the Audrey was equipped with a similar construction, but better ’cause I’d already done it once. I got it working and watched as Marisol drove her Stanley over the snowbank.

I then dropped my head into my wet gloves. My eyes ached. My fingers and toes were numb. But I had to keep going.

Before, as I skied ahead, I’d gotten breaks. I’d had to wait on the Stanleys to bust through the snowbanks. Now, they’d be on my heels, driving me forward.

Had to keep going. Our wood was half gone. Rachel and Sharlotte filled our water jugs with snow, but even packing them full only gave us a little water. Not a lot of moisture in Colorado snow.

If we ran out of water or wood, we’d be stopped. I could get through the snow on the skis, but the others would be stranded. Snow was too deep. Which was why the old state government had closed Independence Pass during the winter months, back when there was a state government.

By the time twilight fell, I’d stopped being a mind and only my weary body remained. If I stopped even for a minute, I’d freeze, so I kept going, keeping my blood pumping, though I was pushed beyond my endurance. Should’ve studied harder in gym class. However, running for your life and chasing after super soldiers did give a girl a good workout.

Darkness wrestled with snow, both trying to conquer the sky.

The Marilyn and the Audrey stopped. I turned.

Wren popped out of the door. “Can’t hardly see you, Cavvy, even with your pink coat and my gorgeous orange hat. Figure we’ll bed down for the night.”

I let out a sigh of relief.

Our dinner was meager; cans of green beans and stale saltine crackers. But resting, eating, drinking water, would be a welcome change for my exhausted muscles. I could rest my feet and touch up my bandages in the arms of the Marilyn.

I collapsed into her driver seat. Didn’t know I was asleep until Rachel woke me. She said Wren and Dutch wanted to sleep in the Audrey’s gunner seat alone.

I frowned at that. I knew they wouldn’t sleep, not how they hung on each other every chance they got.

Wasn’t long before Marisol joined us in the Marilyn to sleep next to Sharlotte above me and Rachel. Before sleep claimed me again, I thought maybe Marisol was still so traumatized about losing her family, she’d forgotten all about Eryn Lopez. Most likely, that was exactly what was going on.

Night passed. I woke up alone, hungry, thirsty, aching. Rachel was already up, feeding the fires with scraps of wood, melting water, and watching the storm.

It wasn’t going away. Another half-meter of snow lay on us. We had to scrape both sides of the windshields. The condensation from our breathing had frozen the inside of the glass, and the storm had iced up the outside.

We were out of food and had only about a third of our wood left. We’d be tromping down to the tree line on vapors. I knew we’d wind up burning the snowshoes at the end. We might end up burning everything else, too.

What would we eat?

My head ached. I hadn’t slept as well as I had thought, not with the altitude. We were well above three thousand meters, which made sleep hard no matter how tired the body. And I needed to drink more. I needed to eat. I needed ibuprofen for my head. I needed Pilate’s laughter and the smell of his cigar, and I needed Micaiah’s arms and his kisses, kisses on my neck, under my ear, ticklish but sublime.

I got none of it.

And the memories of our boys thickened in my mind. Micaiah’s bracelet was still around my wrist. The chalkdrive he’d carried was around my neck. Both were pure Juniper jewelry: made from scrap and bloodied from battle.

Like Wren’s bullet in my pocket, the bullet she’d thrown at Micaiah a million years ago when she threatened to beat the truth out of him. The same bullet Gianna Edger had found when she was sniffing around us back on the Scheutzes’ ranch.

Edger was dead and gone.

Hopefully, we wouldn’t join her.

At least my winter gear had dried overnight. I’d put it close to the firebox, and the heat had done the work.

Sharlotte stood with me in the snow before we started. She put her arms around me. Didn’t say a word, just hugged me. We stood there like that, her holding me, me embracing her arms.

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