The Winter Tyrant

Chapter 96: Ghosts of the Old World

A week had passed since Jack and his men took off. The journey south was perilous. They had no idea where they were headed, only that the further south they went the more likely they were to find a land untouched by the long winter.

They took what they could carry from the Federation’s stash of supplies. Food, water, bullets, medicine, and of course the most important for a group of mobile raiders on snowmobiles fuel.

Frankly, they didn’t know how far they traveled, or where they were on the map. The winter had changed the world around them to the point it was no longer recognizable. They could have easily crossed several state boundaries by now.

Considering they only had around eighty men now, Jack and his raiders did their best to evade large settlements. Attacking mobile caravans and smaller camps when they came across them.

Most gave up without a fight, surrendering the goods demanded of them rather than risk an injury that could get them killed.

Others met a far more bloody end. In a world without the rule of law, the law reverted to that of nature. And that meant might was right. And in a way, it always was, it was just no longer monopolized in the hands of national interests like it used to be.

Tonight, after a week of raiding, Jack and his men did what they always did. Set up camp, prepared their food, and took an inventory of their current supplies.

Some of his men performed maintenance on the snowmobiles and ensured their fuel was properly prepared and preserved.

Others cooked a pot of whatever remained edible in their saddlebags. And a select few maintained a perimeter.

Out here in the open snow there was little one could do to protect themselves from unwanted eyes. Other than perhaps picking the least exposed location they could find.

Around the fire, the men gathered to warm themselves. Jack pulling off his gloves and letting the flame eat away the frost that gnawed at his tendons and bones.

He sighed heavily and shook his head.

"What I wouldn’t give for a cheeseburger right about now...."

It was a sentiment that stirred the stomachs of all those present. A cheeseburger, how they longed for such a simple meal, one that was also somehow so luxurious under their current conditions.

"Perhaps when we get south, we can finally have one again..." a man interjected, gaining the scornful gazes of those around him.

"What?" he protested, "You heard that old hag as well as I did! Down south, there is land that remains untouched by the long winter! That’s why so many people are trying their best to migrate to the equator!"

Jack shook his head, but he remained silent. His thoughts would shatter the dream, the hope, that kept many of his men moving forward.

Sometimes, hope, even if built on a lie, was necessary for people to continue to endure. Jack didn’t care for it, he didn’t need it. His life was harsh long before the first snow fell.

He sighed heavily and shook his head.

"And go back to their rules? Their so called morals? What a joke. Look how quickly it all fell apart at the first sign of crisis? Even if such a land exists, and it may very well, I don’t want it. I’d much rather use it as a temporary staging ground, a vacation spot. I have all I need around us."

"Cope..." One of the men muttered beneath laughter, shaking his head.

He thought that Jack hadn’t heard him, but the man clearly had, as his gaze focused entirely on the naysayer.

"Oh, yeah? What were you before the snow fell?"

The man stiffened at the interrogation, he was no longer laughing, he wasn’t even smirking.

"A welder...." His voice dropped low, almost ashamed.

Jack scoffed, not dismissively or disrespectfully, rather with indignation. "A respectable career, it’s a shame such a profession wasn’t as respected as it should be. I bet despite being a welder you couldn’t even afford your own home could you?"

The silence was all the answer Jack needed, and he took it as momentum to continue with his speech.

"Exactly, men like us kept that society running, and yet who made all the money? Who lived in luxury? The men who broke their backs to ensure the power ran, the groceries arrived on time? That houses were built which we could never afford to live in ourselves? No, it was the entertainers, the politicians, and the white collar adult daycare types. Look around you, where are they now? They’re all dead. And we inherited what was left behind!"

The men all began to nod slowly, whether it was the alcohol in their bloodstream, or Jacks’ sheer charisma, but they actually began to think that perhaps, just perhaps the south wasn’t the paradise they expected it to be.

"If any of them did survive, they’re the ones who will be expecting us to kneel and slave away for their own luxury again. And I’d rather be out here in the cold, then ever subject myself to such humiliation now that I’ve finally tasted true freedom! Isn’t that right, Cole?"

Jack looked over towards the edge of camp, shouting as loud as he could to garner the sentry’s attention. But he didn’t respond. In fact, as he shifted his gaze further the man wasn’t even at his post.

He glowered and reached for his radio attached to his belt, grumbling under his breath as he did so.

"You have to do everything yourself these days, don’t you... Cole, where the fuck are you at? Why aren’t you at your post? I swear to God, if you make me climb into that snow, I will leave your ass behind!"

There was nothing but static on the other end... He quickly switched the channel, calling out to someone else.

"Hey, Tony, where the fuck is Cole, you know where that little shit ran off to?"

Silence once more, nothing but the crackle of the empty distance between their two radios which now effectively acted as walkie-talkies.

Jack shook his head and looked over at the other three men by his side.

"Go find out where those assholes ran off to, why don’t you?"

The men shook their heads, sighed ,and grumbled, but all the same they stood up and wandered off into the night. There Jack remained next to the flame, cursing on his breath as he warmed his hands over the fire.

"Fucking assholes... It is so hard to find good help these days...."

"Isn’t that the truth?"

He heard the words come from the alien voice just after the warmth of the breath his ear. Jack froze.

Something cold pressed gently against his throat. "How the hell did you track us all the way down here?" he asked quietly.

There was no response, just the sharp edge of a blade cutting cleanly through his throat. Jack died instantly, his corpse falling into the snow with a horrified look in his eyes.

Standing above him was a man in winter pattern camouflage, he wiped the blood which slaked his blade onto Jack’s coat before stashing it away in his scabbard.

There another man walked over, a military grade rifle in his hands, he shook his head as he gazed at the lifeless encampment around them and then back at his commanding officer.

"Lieutenant, was this really necessary? They’re just a couple of nomads. Going out of our way to terminate them, it seems kind of pointless."

The man who had cut Jack’s throat leaned down and examined the body. Looking for something, anything that would tell him where these men had arrived from.

"He seemed scared.... He thought I was someone else. They came from the north, right? But as far as we’ve been told, nothing can survive the cold up there...."

Another soldier approached and tossed a couple of carbines on the ground.

"These nomads were unusually well equipped. These are modified civilian rifles, they seem to be using auto-sears. Most likely scavenged from whatever was left behind by the northern guard after the order to withdraw was given."

There was a pause as the squad sat on this information. They knew where every National Guard base was located. And there were only a few directly north of where they were now.

The man who brought the rifles broke the silence. "Do you think there’s something up there that drove them down south? With this kind of hardware and the mobility of their snowmobiles a group like this should be kings of the North."

The lieutenant rose to his feet and gazed toward the great north beyond the boundary of what their superiors had referred to the "Line of Habitability." He stared silently for a long while before chuckling beneath his breath.

"Looks like the eggheads in the lab were wrong... Get on the radio and inform the Colonel that we discovered potential for life beyond the line. And by the looks of it, we might be dealing with a rogue actor. We’ll return to the FOB and await further orders."

The men nodded their heads, scavenging what was useful from Jack and his crew, and leaving behind what wasn’t to be claimed by the ice and snow.

Within an hour any trace of their presence was wiped out by the storm, leaving only whispers of the old world’s ghosts to linger.