I sat in my chair and Stalker napped in his, the cockpit door closed for both noise and smell. Between the coat, kitty litter, and the tobacco, it stunk in the storage area. Abi had ventilated it as best she could while maintaining cabin pressure between stops. Regardless, it was not inhabitable.

We’d continued North West across the continent completing trades. For the most part these interactions were uneventful. One tribe that came up short on their trade tried offering me a bride. I nearly went ballistic on them but Abi stopped me. We agreed that I or someone else would return to get the remainder of what was owed which amounted to another imperial pound of silver.

The most exciting aspect up to that point was that a tribe contacted WISE the day after I left. Their leadership wanted to plan a relocation to South America or Africa. More importantly, they wanted this move to get them started towards incorporation. I opened a bottle of cider I’d received in trade to celebrate. “Teton County” tribe, vintage 2079. Abi told me that they first asked if they could join the tribe I live in. I guess I left a good impression.

“Ten minutes till touch down,” Abi said. “It is negative ten degrees with strong gusts from the North.”

I forced myself to slide out of the warm, plush chair and begin donning the layers I’d acquired. The pungent coat would be last on the way out.

“The satellites are not able to see the ground,” Abi said. “So I have a drone dispatched into the area for overwatch.”

“Do you normally watch from satellite?”

“Yes. External cameras on the transport provide limited perspective.”

Abi displayed the drone’s view; matte bluish white. I couldn’t tell if I was looking at snow covered ground or the inside of a cloud.

“The weather is not favorable for this mission,” Abi said.

“Last stop, Abi. Let’s get it done.”

“Agreed. I can deploy micros if needed. The observer will remain in the area for if the snowstorm moves on.”

The transport rattled as we descended. Finally, we landed crunching down on ice and snow.

“This is the prearrange location and time. External cameras show no one waiting for you.”

“Well, they could be just too far to see in this snow or were smart and waiting indoors.”

“Perhaps,” Abi said.

Buttoned up in the woolen ashtray, I stood at the rear door as it opened. A cold gust carried a swirl of snow that promptly melted into the steel grated floor. I wished to myself that they’d just come knock on the side door and we’d share another bottle of cider—in the warmth.

“Anything on cameras?”

“Not so far, Liam.”

Shit.

I made my way down the ramp into the deep snow. My boots created trenches as I crunched out beyond the transport’s tail.

“Liam, hands up. Two men with rifles just appeared eighteen meters behind you.”

I put my hands up, tablet raised above my head.

“Keep your hands up. Are you alone?” a voice shouted.

“Just me.”

“How did you know we were aiming at you?”

“A camera on the aircraft,” I said, hollering over my shoulder.

I heard them get closer behind me.

“Who’s inside?” one voice asked.

“My cat. Someone is watching the camera remotely. Do you understand?”

“Cat?” a second voice asked.

“The cat isn’t watching the camera. The cat is probably napping under the warm seat.”

“I mean, you brought a cat with you?”

I glanced over my shoulder. The man I saw was wearing white and off-white materials sewn together. His outfit looked like if the rebels on Hoth had assembled their uniforms from old sheets.

“The cat keeps me company. What do you care?”

“Are you armed?” the first voice asked.

“No.”

“Can I pat you down?” the second voice asked.

“I suppose.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I felt hands roughly probe starting from my neck working all the way down to my ankles. They only stopped once to fish out a chocolate bar from my front pocket.

“It’s bad for you; you don’t want any,” I said.

The chocolate did not go back into my pocket.

“He’s clear,” the second voice said.

I turned and faced the two men. The man with the makeshift snow costume was reading the labels on the chocolate bar’s package. His rifle slung on his back.

The other man, who casually trained a rifle at my belly, wore white and gray camouflage fatigues. His trousers matched except for a discolored stain and lines of black stiches near the groin.

“My name is Griff, senior armsman for the Washington Minutemen.”

I reached out to shake his hand but both hands stayed on the rifle.

“I’m Liam, delivery guy for WISE.”

The man who’d been intently looking for an ingredients list or something put the chocolate bar into my hand.

“What’s choc-oh-lāte?”

I looked closer at the figure. His face was obscured by goggles and a wool cap, but I could see patchy facial hair growing on his pocked jawline.

“Chocolate,” I said, enunciating. “It’s candy, you can have it.”

I handed it back to him.

The kid must have known what candy was because he took it in both hands and smiled showing his teeth.

I had one more bar in reserve for Florida. As I didn’t bring enough for each stop, I rationed them for smoothing out anxious meetings. Most of the adults knew what chocolate was and were excited to introduce the children to it. Minnie had suggested the chocolate before I’d left. She scolded me when I told her I was nearly out and had more stops to go.

Griff used his chin to point at the transport. “You want to close that up?”

“Why?”

“It’s going to fill with snow. We’re walking to meet the commander.”

“Damnit.” I wasn’t dressed warm enough for this.

On the way, I’d fumbled the earpiece in and quietly asked Abi if she knew who I was meeting.

“This tribe has been secretive,” Abi said. “Based on some key words and behaviors, we believe that they have received training inspired by the United States Marine Corps. Aerial photos show approximately six-hundred and thirty individuals live one-point-four kilometers East, South-East from where you are. I project you are being taken to the building that has been observed to be a storehouse and operations center. Expect to speak to Commander Escobar.”

“I hope Escobar is more talkative than these two,” I said.

“These two are likely not permitted to be friendly with you. Don’t take it as an ill sign.”

The armsmen escorted me to a structure that looked like it had previously been a grocery store. The boarded windows were patched into a collage of old business signs. About a meter out from the building, stacks of sandbags and junk made a short wall around most of the structure’s front and stretched around each corner a few meters.

Two more armed men, similarly dressed to the bedsheet kid, stood near the door partly obscured by tall stacks of sandbags and debris. Just before they led me through the door, a slight movement caught my eye; another armed figure looked down from the rooftop.

The inside of the building still had rows of shelves as you’d see in a sitcom grocery store.

“It looks like you aren’t hurting for food,” I said.

Griff, who’d stayed behind me the entire way, poked me in the back with something hard.

“Right. When am I going to meet Commander Escobar?”

“About right now.” A short but broad-shouldered man wearing pixilated greens and brown camouflage came from behind one of the shelves. “I’m Robert Escobar. I don’t take you for being an armsman, so please call me Rob.”

“Rob, my name is Liam. Pleased to meet you.” I reached out my hand and he took it firmly.

“Liam, what is that aircraft you came in on? My boys said it looked like an Osprey but even bigger.”

“Heavy Hawk,” Abi said in my ear.

“It’s called a Heavy Hawk, I guess.”

“Okay? Well, let’s get down to business. We have—”

The tablet lit up in my hand. “Commander Escobar,” a masculine voice said. “My name is Insight. It is urgent that you listen to me.”

I stared at the tablet for a second.

Griff snatched the tablet from me and inspected it. On screen was an illustration of where the transport was located. 5 red dots blinked on what looked like the tree-line just West of the Heavy Hawk.

“What is this?” Rob asked, taking the tablet from Griff.

“At minimum, five individuals have appeared near the Heavy Hawk. I don’t believe that they are yours.”

“You’d be right. Damn. We’ve been dealing with marauders for months.”

“I’m deploying small drones to begin collecting intel. The Heavy Hawk cannot take off in this weather, Commander. If you don’t want your supplies in the hands of the enemy, we need you to defend it.”

Rob touched the tablet screen tentatively as though he’d never seen anything like it. “Griff, take your men out there. Do not engage until I say so. Go.”

He looked at me. “Insight, if this is a trick, Liam will answer for it.”

“I assure you; those are certainly not our people.”

“Is that aircraft armed?”

“No. It has several auxiliary cameras. The two drones deployed from it are recon only.”

“More eyes are helpful. Is this picture alive?”

“It is current, yes,” Insight said.

Either the cold or my nerves were catching up to me. “Hey, Rob, do you mind if I sit over there near the stove while you and Insight work this out. I promise you, I’m no help.”

Rob nodded and continued talking to Insight.

“Abi, what’s going on out there?” I asked.

“It looks like the transport drew the attention of some raiders. They’re moving between the trees making a cautious approach.”

I sat down on a ripped cushion next to the wood burning stove. “Keep me updated. I have a feeling that if this doesn’t go well, they aren’t going to be happy with me.”

For the next few hours, Abi occasionally filled in details for what I couldn’t overhear from Rob and Insight. Rob paced up and down the aisles gripping the tablet and speaking intently towards it and occasionally speaking into a handheld radio.

“Bad news,” Abi said, “One of Griff’s people are down.”

I began to shiver again, my gut turning flips.

“Oorah!” I heard shouted from the other end of the store.

“What’s going on?” I asked Abi.

“Commander Escobar just received word from his men that they’ve confirmed three kills. Surveillance suggests that they’ve removed no less than six threats.”

“Oorah,” I said under my breath.

A few minutes later, Rob appeared again from behind a shelf. “Liam, your manifest shows you have some cider. What’s the chances we can pop some open?”

#

Insight had opened the rear door for Rob’s men so they could treat a gunshot wound. I directed them over the radio as to where to find the cider and how to find the two crates designated for them. They dragged the crates on a sled, the wounded man on top of the crates, and the bottles of cider were held by the man.

As they came to the front of the building, I recognized who’d been shot.

“Liam! Today, I’ve been shot and tasted choc-oh-late.”

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“The voice inside the helicopter said I would probably survive. I feel amazing, though.”

“Sedatives,” Griff said. “He’ll survive. Considering that futuristic medical kit, I bet he’ll be back on patrols in no time.”

“Dag,” the boy said. He giggled to himself.

We celebrated with cider and venison, served with sweet beet jam. I vomited a few times that night; Rob thought it was over-indulging in the strong cider. I think it was more likely from never eating meat before.