Getaway
#1 of The Getaway (Thriller)
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Just something I cooked up! Hope you like :)
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It felt colder today than yesterday, something my nosepad could tell even without me having to look at the thermometer on the window before popping my head out into the cold. You could even hear it, when my heavily booted paws stomped along the hard, crunching snow. Yet my eyes squeezed themselves shut at the brilliantly bright light and I cursed myself for leaving my sunglasses inside. I glanced at the door and decided that since I only had to go out for a moment, it was not worth it to turn back.
The air was still, but cold, and the sun shone across the snow-painted lake, seemingly endless and without bounds or forms, except of the small impressions of the tracks we had made, and the blotches of red and green fabric that acted as flags to mark the traps. It wasn't yet time to check them, that'd come later once breakfast was done, but other chores were to be checked before that.
I stepped into the shed and left the door open, to get more light in. The small window only lit a narrow patch across the floor of concrete, strewn with sawdust and chips.
After a few minutes, I had to unzip the top of my jacket, to stop myself from sweating. I did not mind it, however, the exercise felt nice on my arms, over my back. When you had to stay indoors so much, any reason to get out was good enough, and it put some circulation back into my brain, too. Just the simple act of chopping and sawing, and the smell off wood, and the feel of tree bark rustling on my gloved paws when I loaded them into the bucket that acted as a spare carrier.
I was done in a bit and I was fine, going back across the path that our paws had stomped into the snow. I went past the car, buried under snow where I had left it on the last trip, though now, even if I had some errand to run, it wouldn't be possible to get out, anyway. The road, winding through the woods behind me, was well snowed shut, with over a foot of snow. Even if I had snow chains or four wheel drive, there'd be no chance. Maybe the battery had gone flat, too. I should've taken it inside, perhaps, I could've hooked it up to the solar system...maybe it'd worked.
"I'm back!" I yelled after stomping my shoes on the step to clear them of snow before taking them off, the bucket of firewood already down on the carpet.
"Ken!" I called out once there was no reply. I frowned.
"Ken!"
I unzipped my jacket rest of the way and stepped through the cool, dark kitchen and towards the familiar way into the living room. There was a bit more light there since I'd opened the curtains before, but that was it.
"Ken!"
"Humph?"
The mound of blankets next to the fireplace moved a little, followed by the appearance of a striped head and a pair of bleary, questioning eyes trained in my direction.
"I brought wood," I said, "you didn't start the water."
Ken rubbed his muzzle.
"I must've...slept through it," he yawned. "Sorry."
I didn't want to get stuck into an argument for a first thing in the morning.
"Doesn't matter," I said as I walked across the room towards the fireplace, "I'll just stoke this up and get it going."
A little bit of poking and blowing got the glowing embers to produce proper flames, and adding the small pieces of chopped wood encouraged the remains of last night's fire to catch up and roar into a good fire. The extra warmth felt good on me after the time outside, and I knew that it was time to heat the cabin, too.
"What day is it?"
I glanced over at Ken from my crouched position. The bed was located to my side, on a comfortable distance from the fire so that it'd keep us warm through the night, and from this angle, Ken was looking up to me.
"It's Tuesday," I said. "My watch keeps telling it."
"Oh," Ken said. "I suppose my phone would tell it, too."
"It would," I spoke while observing the fire, "but keeping the old phone charged is more sensible since it has a much longer standby time than a smartphone."
Ken snorted.
"How do you even know they haven't cut off the service?" he said. "It's not like we've been paying our bills lately."
I shook my head.
"Somehow I think our phone bill isn't the first thing on their minds," I replied.
"It'd have internet, too," Ken said.
"We've talked about this before," I said quickly. "There's no internet coverage."
"How do you know if we don't even try?"
I sighed.
"You know that there's no power and no internet," I said, "hasn't been for what, two months?"
"We still had power when we went to town for the last time," Ken recalled as he sat up now, shoulders hunched while he assumed a Buddha-like position on the mattress placed onto the floor.
"That was three months ago," I said.
"How do you remember?"
"I do keep a diary, you know," I said, "Bring me some of the water, will you? It ought to have thawed over the night in the kitchen."
"Okay," Ken said.
He yawned and stretched while he got up, tail trailing along the floor while he padded into the kitchen. I watched for a moment and then concentrated on poking the fire. It was burning well but it'd take a while before the fire would be strong enough to properly boil the water.
"BANG!"
My ears slammed down at the sound of the reverberating noise from the kitchen.
"EVERYTHING ALRIGHT!?" I yelled.
"JUST DROPPED THE...THING!"
_ _
"DID YOU HAVE WATER IN IT YET?" I asked.
"NO!"
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"OKAY!"
I gave the fire one more poke and put the old wrought iron rod back onto its holder, next to the little shovel for clearing out the ash. It was the kind of a thing that seemed to go paw in paw with a big fireplace like this. The fire I had going seemed almost pitifully small considering how big the fireplace was, with its stone-worked masonry.
There was not all that much to do now, besides pushing the bedding a little to the side to make some more room, to go by the window to check that the lights were glowing in the solar charger units, and then to open a few more curtains. My poor eyes squinted shut once again at the onslaught, but at least it made the room feel a little bit less stuffy, and closed.
"Here's the..."
"Just hang it up there," I pointed out the iron hook.
"Okay."
He fiddled with the swinging hook for a while before the pot was placed over the fire, flames licking on the blackened bottom. I brushed away my quiet worries about how long that pot would last such treatment.
"What are we having for breakfast?"
I was surprised that the story about roasting marshmallows on the fireplace had not been detailed this time around.
"Biscuits and hot water," I said.
"Like every day," Ken huffed.
"Give me three fried eggs any day," I smiled empathetically.
"Don't start," he pouted.
"I'll fetch the stuff," I said.
"Can we have a little bit of sugar today?" he sounded hopeful, looked almost ridiculously so.
"Yeah, sure," I said," why not, it's a Tuesday?"
"Yay!"
I chuffed on my way into the kitchen, where the relative coolness bristled my furs again, wherever my fur was exposed beyond the thick socks and the woolen shirt I was wearing. It wasn't too damp, thankfully, since the brick wall warmed by the fire kept this room relatively warm, if nothing like the living room. It made it perfect for storing the food, which I had painstakingly arranged, inventoried and placed into the cupboards.
I knew there was not much of it anymore, that was all too obvious by now. The plastic trashcan by the door was filled with empty cans and wrappers and packaging materials, colorful cardboard things now empty of their contents. A dusty coffeemaker stood by the sink, which no longer provided water since the power went out and we lost the pump to the well. The drain had been useful, up until it froze and we had to resort to just taking it out in buckets.
The biscuits were in the cabinet next to the one that held glasses and beer tankards. The open packet was in a Tupperware to make sure it would not go bad. The fact that there were only two more was a worry, but it was not something I wanted to think about now. There were still other things in the cabinet, stuff that had not been opened yet, results from our last panic buying trip to the nearest town. Maybe we could have those pickles tomorrow...not for breakfast, but to spice things up a little. After eating fish for four months, anything was a welcome change.
Maybe.
I took out two mugs from the corner of the sink where I'd have them drying and put them onto the kitchen island. The packet of sugar was in another cabinet, and the spoon already protruded from it.
I measured a single teaspoon into one of the mugs, and gave a glance to the one still sitting empty. The temptation was there, but I had made my decision weeks ago. I opened a drawer and put my own spoonful into a small, old honey pot which now had maybe two ounces of sugar in it. I smiled at the sight, meager as it was. I had a small plan in regards to that particular stash, and thinking about it was nice. Maybe it'd turn out alright. Or maybe, in the best case, I wouldn't even need to.
I put two biscuits for each onto a plate, grabbed the spoons and the mugs, and headed into the living area. Ken was standing by one of the windows now, the curtains drawn open so that he could peer outside into the snowy yard, holding the phone in his paw with its charging cable dangling away along his arm while he waved the cell up and down in front of him.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"...I..." he breathed out, "I thought I was getting a signal for a second...I was just looking at it and...and I just thought there was one bar and..."
His ears drooped sheepishly, though he didn't put down the phone.
"I don't think that lifting it a couple of feet from the dresser to the window will make much of a difference in regards to reception," I said.
"These walls are pretty thick, they might just be too much for it," Ken reasoned. "It can't be impossible."
"They are not lined with lead, either," I replied as patiently as I could.
"Maybe we could rig up an antenna," he said, "use some wire or something, or..."
"I don't think it quite works like that," I said as I stepped into the room properly an put the mugs down onto the table where we were to eat before turning about and going to check on the fire and the water waiting to heat up on the flames.
"If there was Internet we could look up how to boost signal."
"But since we don't have power nor mobile coverage, we won't have either 3G nor broadband," I said.
"Maybe there's a book somewhere," Ken looked around the room" dad always used to look at these old books he got here, some were his dad's..."
I chuckled.
"Did they have mobile phones in the 70's?" I mused. "Think there's a 'Home Tinkerer's Guide To Makeshift Antennas' lying around in that bookshelf?"
I pointed out the bookshelf loaded with yellowed tomes and shook my head. Ken frowned before yawning so deeply that it sounded like his jaws were about to pop.
"Don't be stupid," he said.
I added a couple of pieces of wood and gave it a quick poke before standing up from my crouch and stretching a little. Ken gave the phone a final displeased look before he put it down to the old dresser next to a photo of Ken with a fish he had caught from the lake behind the cabin, and then he scratched his belly through his sleeveless T-shirt.
"It's ready soon, I think," I said.
"With sugar?" he asked.
"Yeah," I pointed out the mugs.
"Great!"
Ken wandered across the room and leaned against the brick face. That gave me an opportunity to watch him, in the light coming from the window. The pants hung loose on him and were only held up by the cord around his waist, and the shirt fit him much worse than it had before. He must've lost 15, 20 pounds over the past months, maybe even more. I didn't know how much I had lost. There were no scales in the house to check up on that.
"Hope there's a good catch today," I said.
Ken scratched his muzzle.
"Don't we have a good amount in the snow?" he asked.
"We do, but you know how it works," I replied. "We eat some, we get some new in. Need to keep our supplies stocked up."
"That won't work when the snow melts," he said.
"We'll have to think of something else when it comes to that," I said. "I'm sure we can salt it or dry it somehow..."
Ken's tail bristled.
"But it won't come to that," he breathed out noisily, claws raping on the 70's brick face of the fireplace, "then we're already back home and I'll never eat fish again."
"I'm sure we will," I said without conviction.
"And peaches," he grunted, "in their own juices."
"That's not bad stuff," I said, "There're still a few cans left in the kitchen."
Ken made a face.
"Ugh."
"It's almost all fruit we've got," I said, "the supermarket - "
The claws left thin marks on the stone when he pulled his paw down and slapped it against his paw.
"I was there," he grunted. "I remember everything."
I patted his shoulder, but I could feel him tense and removed my paw.
"I know," I said, "you just...go and sit down. The water is ready soon."
"Alright," he said before heading to the table.
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Thank you for reading!