I had miscalculated the distance to the next town. The sun was beginning to find the horizon and I was still unable to see any signs of a civilization. The temperature dipped lower and lower. I finally found a sign along the road, the bottom of the metal plate touching the top of the snow. I cleared it off the best I could and saw that I was still fifteen miles from the nearest town. I'd made a mistake, somewhere along the line.

    Chance was getting restless with being wrapped up all day. I also needed to rest. My legs were burning with exhaustion. I exhaled, irritated at myself for the miscalculation, and headed for the trees along the side of the road. After a while of trudging through the thick trunks, I was far enough away that I felt safe enough. I broke off an icicle from a tree and stabbed it into the frozen bark of a tree, pointing in the direction I'd come. The trees were thick enough that snow wasn't constantly pelting my face, acting as a mild shelter.

   It was going to be a rough night. I dug through my bag and located the piece of tin roof that I had somehow folded and kept. It took some work with my frozen hands to unbend it in the form of a tent. I set it up and pushed it into the snow for stability. Chance watched my every move as I pulled out a tarp and laid it under the tin roof. It was too cold and windy for a fire. Chance and I would be eating cold beef jerky.

   I carefully unzipped Chance from my coat. Hopefully he would be smart enough to stay under the tin and at my side. He shoved off of my chest and face-planted into the snow. With a snort, he shook out his thin fur and promptly wriggled his way out of the tin to relieve himself. I waited to see if he would come back. Sure enough, he ran back inside and bounced into my lap, shivering. I put him back into my coat and he didn't seem to mind.

   After we ate our share, the sun had set. The temperature was falling dangerously. I was beginning to have trouble feeling my hands and watch. Knowing that it might be our only option, I unrolled the water-resistant-heat-retainer sleeping bag from the top of my backpack. It was the highest grade possible. I'd bought it when I went hiking a few years ago. I was reluctant to use it because it meant I was trapped with limited mobility and sight. Nonetheless, I opened it up and wriggled inside. Once it was zipped, Chance pulled himself from my coat and explored the bag towards my feet. After some time, it began to get warm enough to be tolerable inside, though it was far from pleasant.

   I hardly slept that night. My ears were listening for any signs of life nearby. The tin offered no protection from onlookers. The end of my sleeping bag was visible from the outside. It would be obvious to any observers that I was well-stocked. I knew I was lucky at how much stuff I had. People had killed for less than my supplies.

   The tin rattled in the howling winds. Frozen trees cracked and fell apart during the night. One hit the top of the tin and made me jerk awake like I'd been shot. But that was a good reason that I'd put up the tin. Snow swirled through the minimal shelter. I kept myself wrapped up tightly. Chance had taken to the very end of the sleeping bag, wedged between my feet. I had to admit, he was helping keep them warm.

   It was a long night. The first signs of light finally peered through the tin. I had to unclench my muscles from the tense position I'd held all night. I forced my eyes open. Faint light trickled through the cover. It was getting darker and darker these days. My bones cracked and popped as I stretched out my limbs, forcing blood into them. Chance awoke and I felt him come for the top of the sleeping bag. His blue eyes peered through at the snow. With a mighty yawn, he stretched out and bounced outside for a break.

   He returned as I pulled a can of beans out. After eating, I bundled back up, wrapped up the sleeping bag, folded the tarp, and attempted to compress the tin. It was frozen solid and resisting my attempts. Grunting with effort, I managed to squish it further, but it would take up more room in my bag than before.

   With the water-resistant pack over my shoulders and the smaller satchel across my chest, I picked Chance back up. It was the second morning we had done this routine. He seemed to be understanding it now. I zipped him into my coat, pulled up my hood, made sure my scarf was set, and began heading in the direction of the icicle. We hit the road once more and then it was another long morning of walking.

   I was hit by a dilemma when I finally reached the town. I could keep walking, gain more ground, but that would risk another night in the snow. I wasn't sure I could manage that. I needed the warmth of a fire, and sooner rather than later. On the other hand, staying in a town this long would allow a more thorough check for supplies and longer to rest. It was also more dangerous. The chances of someone finding me rose the longer I stayed in one place. Eventually, I decided that I needed the rest if I were to survive. I could fight off someone. I couldn't fight off someone if I was too exhausted to see straight.

   The town was closer to a city. I passed multiple oil rigs on the way into the civilization. The buildings, half-buried, grew taller the further I ventured. I didn't bother to check the buildings that had broken windows or doors. They would already be ransacked. Logically, more houses on the rougher side of town would be unopened. The more expensive homes would have more things to take, and I'd always had more luck with the other side of the class spectrum. People left those houses alone most often.

   In the direct center of the neighborhood, I found a house. It was a small trailer home with a solid door, closed windows, and a full roof. Hopeful, I moved to the window that seemed the least frozen and grabbed a rock. The window hardly budged with my best throw. I frowned. Even frozen, glass was easy to break...

   The hairs on the back of my neck rose as I peered into the window, seeing nothing but darkness. Maybe the outline of one chair. This house would definitely have not been looted, seeing as it was taking effort to break in. I untied the crowbar from my hip and wedged it into the door. A few grunts later and it didn't budge. Bewildered, I stepped back and stared at it. Shaking my head, I moved to one of the windows and swung the bar at it with all of my strength. It finally cracked. I beat it a few more times, Chance watching eagerly, as it finally began to crumble away.

   I wiped some snow away from the bottom, ducking through the opening. The first thing I noticed was that it wasn't as cold in the building. That and it smelled like smoke. Someone had made a fire in here, and recently. How had they gotten in? More importantly, were they still here?

   My answer was questioned in the form of a shotgun barrel appearing through a curtain in the room. I mentally cursed myself for not realizing it sooner. Someone had fortified this house. Obviously, someone lived here. I put one hand over Chance, wedging him back into my coat, and lifted the other. "I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone lived here."

   A small eye peered through the fabric. "I don't believe you."

    It was a small boy's voice. He was Hispanic. I exhaled. "I really am sorry. I'll close up this window and leave."

   He blinked. "You will?"

   "I will. Please, just lower the shotgun."

   "I don't want to."

   "Okay, then don't shoot me. I'm not a bad guy. I was a police officer, okay?"

   His eye widened. "You are?"

   I nodded. "I'm Drifter Webster. What's your name?"

   He faltered with his shotgun. "I'm . . . Ram. Why did you break into my house?"

   "I thought there might be food that no one was using."

   "Well, I am using it."

   "I see that now. I won't touch it, I promise."

   Ram opened his mouth to speak when Chance wedged his head back out. Ram's eyes widened and he pointed. "Is that a dog?"

   I hesitated. "Yes. This is Chance."

   Ram finally lowered the shotgun. "You can let him down. I have a sack of dog food we haven't opened. He looks hungry." He stepped out into the light. The boy couldn't have been older than eleven. His brown hair was long and grungy. Dirt marred his face and his eyes held a sorrow I didn't know. I looked back down at Chance and up at him. "Where are your parents, Ram?"

   "They went hunting for food."

   There were no prints around the house... Nor any sign that anyone had opened a door in ages. "How long ago did they leave?"

   His lips pursed. "About three weeks ago."

   My heart panged. His parents were likely gone. Either dead in the snow, killed by travelers, or they had simply left him behind. I unzipped my coat and set the wriggling puppy down. Ram hurried over, smiling, as he reached for the puppy. I watched as Chance nibbled on his fingers. "Are you alone, Ram?"

   "No. My sister is here."

   "Where?"

   "I told her to hide."

   "She can come out, okay?"

   He eyed me suspiciously. I pointed at my chest. "Cop, remember? I won't hurt you. I will be leaving soon, anyway."

   "You're not trying to steal our food?"

   "I'm not. I promise."

   "Fine." Ram stood up and left the room. I rubbed my head slightly. A boy, all alone with his sister. He had somehow survived three weeks. How long until he ran out of food? Anyone that found him would kill him for this house. I was starting to feel better now that the wind wasn't biting at me. This kind of shelter was worth more than Ram could ever realize.

   Ram returned, holding the hand of a small girl. She looked to be around five. Her hair was braided delicately and glasses perched on her nose. She wore a set of overalls with a blanket wrapped around her top. I forced a smile. "What's your name?"

   "Maria," she said softly.

   "Hi Maria, I'm Drifter. This is Chance." I pointed at the puppy. Her eyes alit and she made to step forward. Ram tightened his hold on her hand. She frowned and he hesitantly let go. To make him more comfortable, I backed up and let Maria sit down to see Chance. Ram had taken on the role of the male of the house. His caution was warranted.

   "Where are you going?" Ram finally asked me.

   "I'm heading to the Equator."

   He frowned. "Why?"

   "It's less cold. Secondly, I heard that there might be a place to live. Somewhere with power." I slowly sat down on the floor. My bones popped slightly. I pulled down my hood and lowered the scarf to show the rest of my face. I hesitated for a second before asking, "would you like to come with me?"

   Ram studied me. "You said there might be somewhere warm?"

   "Yes."

   "Then no."

   I blinked. "Oh."

   Ram pushed a strand of hair from his head. "There's no proof that there's anything warm there. We wouldn't make it. We're too young. Besides, I've got enough food in our storage that we can survive several years in here."

   "The problem with that is that by the time you don't have food, it's going to be much colder." I pulled my tarp from my bag and moved to the window. "The temperature is dropping. By the time you need to search for food, it will be too cold to survive for longer than a minute outside. You need to find a home sooner rather than later."

   "We're staying here," Ram said shortly. "I can get food now, then. But we're staying here and waiting for my parents."

   His parents weren't coming back. The look on his face said that he wouldn't listen if I tried to convince him otherwise. Staying in the snow without shelter for more than a week was certain death. Three weeks? They were gone. I studied his eyes for any break in his resolve, but they were firm. I pressed my cracked lips and stood up, rifling through my bag.

   "What are you doing?" Ram asked me, confused, as I held up my tarp to the broken window. It wasn't going to fit. I put it back into my bag. "Fixing your window. Would you have anything like this tarp?"

   "Daddy might have left his car cover in the shed," said Maria softly.

   "Where's the shed?"

   Ram jerked his head over his shoulder. "Back door. Why do you care about the window?"

   "Because I broke it without thinking." I left Maria sitting beside Chance and went into the kitchen. The door was boarded shut firmly. I looked at Ram as he followed me. "Could I open this to get outside?"

   He grunted. "If you put it back up."

   After a few minutes of prying carefully at the nails with my crowbar, I pulled up my hood and opened the door. A sheet of ice as tall as the door crashed inside and hit me. I fell backwards and my head hit the counter. Stars danced as I groaned, snow blasting into my cheeks.

   The door slammed shut and Ram pressed his back against it. I gingerly sat up and felt the back of my head. My gloves came back with a spattering of scarlet. I should have seen that coming. Before the temperature dropped freezing, it would have rained. The water slowly turned to ice to make a five-inch thick wall over this side of the house. The cracks around the door allowed the ice to melt into the shape of the door and the wind blasted it into the house the moment the door pulled away.

   Ram came back with some sort of fabric. I took the offered rag and pressed it against the back of my head. It was cold, but it helped numb the pain. I was having trouble focusing on Ram's face as he frowned. "You okay?"

   "Not really." I blew out my cheeks and felt the lump on the back of my head. "But it happens. Thank you for the towel." I got back up and handed it over. Ram watched as I bundled my head and went outside, wary for more ice.

   There was a lock on the shed, but the mechanism was so frozen that it wasn't hard to break off. I stepped inside and saw a lawn mower, a bunch of pots, some soil, and several gardening tarps. They'd have to work. For a moment, I flipped over the lawnmower and examined the combustion engine. To my surprise, it still had gas. There were four cans of gas in the shed and the mower looked like it would fire up if I tried to start it.

   The shed hadn't been touched since Lover's arrival. Four cans of gas? A working motor? I suddenly got an idea. 

6,860 total words.