Free Snowblind by Michael McBride Page B

slithering into a confined space without the ability to turn around quickly if he needed to. He would be crawling through his friend’s frozen blood in complete darkness without the slightest clue as to where he would come out. The former gave him seemingly limitless options; the latter only one, not to mention the fact that the prospect of choosing it was positively mortifying.
    One was without a doubt a better option than the other.
    His hunters had known exactly what they would do before they even knew themselves.
    If these animals were utilizing their higher faculties to outsmart him, then maybe he could use his baser instincts to outmaneuver them.
    Boil it down to the essentials. Don’t overthink it. Don’t strategize.
    What was his ultimate goal?
    Survival.
    How was that achieved?
    Escape.
    How was that accomplished?
    By distancing himself from his hunters.
    How did he do that?
    By placing one foot in front of the other and establishing forward momentum.
    But in which direction?
    His bearings were skewed and he didn’t have a compass. He was roughly eleven thousand feet above sea level. The only answer that made any kind of sense wasn’t a cardinal direction. He needed to descend in altitude.
    Keep it simple.
    He needed to go down.
    And from there?
    He needed to find help.
    There. He had a plan. An elementary plan that required no thought, no strategy.
    Keep moving forward.
    Continue heading down.
    Find help.
    Basic. The kind of directions a dog could be trained to follow.
    But even that plan still required that he make a crucial decision. Right here and now.
    Into the tunnel or into the house?
    Left or right?
    Push aside all conscious thought.
    Trust his animal instincts.
    Coburn closed his eyes and nodded to himself.
    Decision made.
    There was just one thing he needed to do first.
    One very important task, in case he failed.
    He rummaged around in his backpack until he found his skinning knife, held up the lighter so he could better see, and set to work.
    * * *
    Coburn tucked the dulled skinning knife into the inner breast pocket of his jacket and brushed the wood shavings into a pile. He lit them with the dying lighter and leaned close to the diminutive flames. The small blaze barely produced any heat at all, but he savored every sweet second of it. He had a feeling it would be a long time before he experienced anything even remotely resembling warmth again. He appraised his work in the waning glow.
    Like those who had passed before him, he had reinforced the importance of the message by going over the letters again, widening them as he went.
    THEY COME AT NIGHT.
    Then he added four names to the roll call of the dead, and, in doing so, consigned himself to his fate.
    J OEL V IGIL
    B LAINE S HORE
    T ODD B AUMANN
    W ILLIAM C OBURN
    N OVEMBER 20, 2012
    He had cried the entire time, purging himself of all of the pain and the fear and the doubt. Everything but his instincts and his resolve.
    The frozen tears glistened on his cheeks as the flame gave up the ghost and darkness swarmed in to fill the void.
    Coburn slid the dulled knife back into its scabbord and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket.
    It was time.
    He was going to have to move fast, which meant he needed to travel light. Everything he absolutely had to have from his backpack was stowed in one pocket or other, including half of the remaining food. He left the rest, along with all of the collected canned goods, in his pack, which he tucked into the corner against the wall for whoever had the misfortune of coming next. He wouldn’t be walling it up in the tunnel considering he wouldn’t be able to turn around to do so once he was inside. That in itself bolstered his confidence in his decision.
    Coburn drew a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.
    Keep moving forward.
    Continue heading down.
    Find help .
    He thrust his Remington into the hole and shimmied in behind it. The smell immediately struck him, but he forced it aside. He concentrated on