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

the GPS completely for navigation. Luckily on the ice, there were no buildings or houses to smash into.

We hugged the seawall as much as possible, the jagged shards of ice broke underneath, bucking us to hell and back in the process. The Ripsaw suspension was getting a hell of a test, and so was our stomachs.

What could’ve been a quick nine-or ten-mile drive on the sea ice turned into more than twenty miles, as our intended route took us to Point Barrow, which Avery pointed out, was the most northern part of the United States. The sole purpose of the stupidly circuitous route was to steer clear of the population centers in Barrow. I hoped it was all worth it.

“What the hell!” Sam yelled.

The front-left side of the Ripsaw pitched up as the rear-right did the opposite.

“Perhaps my suppositions were flawed about the ice,” Avery said, matter-of-factly.

“Perhaps you could shut the hell up, son!” Sam yelled.

Sam took his foot off the gas and placed it in park.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Titouan yelled from the back.

“Fuck, I know,” Sam said, shaking his head. “Tryin real damn hard not ta drown.”

The sounds of cracking ice could be heard loudly in the sound-dampened cab. The truck pitched slightly higher. I’d guess it was a foot off the ground by that point.

“Avery?” I said, hoping he’d have some magical idea.

A decent pause ensued. “We should exit the vehicle.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Sam muttered. “You ‘bout ta find out what it feels like to drown you little sonofabitch.”

“If I could finish,” Avery said, impatiently.

Everyone aside from Tish chimed in that he should speak quickly.

“Everyone besides Sam should get out of the truck and put weight on the driver’s side. That might give us enough--”

“Enough explanation,” I cut him off.

As Avery climbed out of the cab, I heard him tell Sam something along the lines, “I would have guessed with all the mud you have driven vehicles through, you would have known to do this, Bubba.” There was a long pause between the word this and Bubba. I’ll be honest. Even with the fact that we were facing drowning in a cold and completely unforgiving ocean, I laughed. Sam, however, didn’t. I’m not even sure he heard Avery. His focus was way elsewhere.

We grabbed hold of whatever we could as we stood on or around the left fender. Sam had his head out the window. “I’m goin ta ease on the gas in a minute. You all bounce a little, and hopefully, we won’t keep fallin through. If she goes, I’m jumpin out. Youins too.”

“Fuck,” I mumbled. Titouan nodded in agreement.

With that, Sam began to gingerly step on the gas, while we bounced in near unison, as the engine revved. The cracking of ice was way louder outside the cab. It sure seemed like we were failing miserably. We weren’t moving forward at all.

“Get on it more!” I yelled. “This isn’t working.”

Sam’s eyes grew large and lingered on mine for a second. Without saying a word, the engine came to life. More cracking ensued. The rear end seemed to sink just slightly more before we inched just a bit forward on one of the downward bounces.

“Bounce!” I yelled.

The Ripsaw lurched forward, causing Tish to nearly topple off the side. Titouan grabbed hold of her just before she fell. After she had regained her balance, she made sure to jerk away from his grasp. She really hated him.

I ushered everyone into the Ripsaw. Under more ideal conditions, we would’ve given a quick survey of the situation and checked the truck for damage, but the weather was that bad. Besides, we were still on the sea ice. We needed to get off of it, stat.

***

I thought I heard a collective sigh the moment we crossed over the steep sea wall. Sam above everyone else had had enough of the sea ice, saying, “Whatever plans you have, son, better not ‘clude goin back out ‘ere,” Sam said, jerking his head back towards the way we came.

“I don’t think there’s much of a reason to do that,” I said, some of the pain of what we had experienced back at the Patch, leached back into my conscious.

Sam pulled several times at his mustache but could only muster a sigh. He had, I thought, gotten all his rage out back at the Patch. He was good at letting things go. I was, however, not. I think part of me even spoiled for a fight with the Order, which is why I was pushing us towards a place where they might be.

According to the GPS, we were about three miles away from the base. Sam wanted to look at the GPS to see our exact location. He asked numerous questions about the plan I supposedly had once we made it to the radar base. Being honest, I hadn’t ever thought it through. We were running from one train wreck to another. There wasn’t a lot of time to fully hatch a plan. We were flying by the seats of our pants, and Sam didn’t like it. Not especially where the radar base was concerned.

“What we doin, bubba?”

“Check out the radar base.”

“’Cificially?”

“I don’t think I can be any more specific. I mean, won’t we know more by just going?”

“I mean, are we just goin ta drive up ta it or what?” Sam said, slowing the truck down to a crawl.

An idea formed nearly as fast as two snow-swept buildings presented themselves, just up ahead, and almost invisible in the terrible conditions. “We’re going to park the Ripsaw behind that far building. No one will be able to see it from the main road. If the Order happens by on this road, there’s a good chance they won’t see it, especially when the snowdrifts begin to accumulate.”

The plan, if you could call it that, was for everyone but Sam and me to stay in the truck. Tish, however, wasn’t having any part of said plan. After a short argument, I relented and allowed her