Frozen Stiff: Chapters 8–17

“One one-hundred,” she counted, stoking the fire.

The sky had turned mottled gray, like the boulders and the eggshells.

The roof was in the best shape, nailed strips of corrugated metal.

She stepped carefully over the rubble; dust billowed up.

Thunder roared like artillery fire down the fjord.

She was so tired, disoriented.

She should have been ravenous, near starvation.

Crude deerskin pants and a poncho-type shirt, homemade boots, scruffy fur cap and gloves.

At sunrise the sky spread soft-colored pastels; then a heavy gray mist muddied the palette.

She recognized the pink fruit, smooth and succulent.

The man’s beard shook as if he was going to say something. Cody imagined a low, guttural grunt like that of a wild animal.

He reminded her of the old circus poster in her grandmother’s garage. Faded and yellow, it touted Mr. Apeman, supposedly raised from birth by gorillas in a jungle.

Heat from rotting debris seemed inconsistent with the drizzle.

The line had been soaked by dew and drizzle, dried and soaked again, saturated with salt air, probably dozens of times in the last several days.

Cody scrambled back up the incline, stopped, and panted.

Worry weighed her down, making every step a feat worthy of applause.

Clues came in the form of displaced leaves, which would have been slapped onto a boot, carried a few steps, then sloughed off.

Flushed with heat, she broke out in a sweat.

On this stretch of trail the undergrowth choked the path to almost nothing.

Fog from the sea, but as white as bleached bones in the desert. It moved like water tumbling down the mountain, wiping out vast sections of trees. Seconds later it lifted and framed a rock outcropping, then dropped just as quickly and obliterated the entire scene.

Fog from the sea, but as white as bleached bones in the desert. It moved like water tumbling down the mountain, wiping out vast sections of trees. Seconds later it lifted and framed a rock outcropping, then dropped just as quickly and obliterated the entire scene.

Cody jumped up and let the sound of rotary blades wash over her: a helicopter.

Parcel out jerky and berries for dinner, save some for tomorrow.

The bear horn. It could be used as a diversion, drawing Wildmen away from Derek.

The cold sapped her strength.

Where was the fur mask? The gloves? The wild mangy hair?

And he was clean—that alone was a miracle. Even his hair had a scrubbed luster.

Her body was emaciated. No doubt her eyes had that hollow sunken look and were probably rimmed with dark circles.

Then she realized with revulsion that the stink had been hers all along.

Sun filtered through the trees, bathing the wet ground with a glowing red aura. The red glow made the landscape look as if the world were on fire.