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Lost Homecoming
By Dionisio “Don” Traverso Jr.
“So, are we there yet?”
It was a dangerous question to answer. David looked at the indicator on
the cellphone and saw that they were indeed very close. If he told them
that, they would unsheathe their weapons. Once certain they had arrived
at their destination, they would kill David.
“We’re in the right direction, but still a ways away, “ he answered
through the oxygen mask that shielded his face from the freezing wind.
Cassandra was somewhere ahead, in the howling, swirling snow. The
indicator light flashing meant she was still alive, the Perpetua
battery, guaranteed to work for a year without a recharge, working in
her phone, but couldn’t tell him what condition she was in. It was only
a navigation app, something to tell him where she was, with a health
monitor add-on for emergencies. He’d suggested the add-on to her, in
case she ever was in an accident and he needed to tell emergency crews
where to find her and what condition she was in. He never imagined the
planet would have the accident.
The three men he had hired for this journey walked behind him, one
directly, the others flanking him on either side. They didn’t think he
had noticed this. He had replayed how they would kill him over and over
in his mind, and how he would avoid this. The problem was that he was a
scientist, and they were criminals, well versed in killing. The odds
weren’t good, but he was willing to try. He had to, for Cassandra’s
sake.
The Greenland attack had melted the ice quickly, causing the freeze to
happen much quicker than anyone expected. The military had conscripted
him to study how to stop it, but wouldn’t let him take Cassandra and
the kids with him. They had promised to evacuate them to the
hilariously named “hot zones.” They never did. Then they had
quarantined the areas north and south of the Tropic zones, because of
the extreme conditions. Cassandra was in the north.
“She’s probably dead,” they had told him. “No one can survive that kind
of cold.”
He knew they were wrong. She would find a way. He had told her if he
hadn’t come back for her in a couple of months to make her way toward
the equator, toward the military base on Puerto Rico. She was a smart
woman, and, if only for the kids, would figure out a way to get them
there.
Five months had passed. She hadn’t shown up. They wouldn’t let him go
back. So he hired these men to get him past the military blockades.
They were scavengers, black marketers who would sneak north and south
to plunder anything of value to sell to the citizens of the “hot zone.”
Yet, even they hadn’t wanted to go that far north. He had to lie to
them. He had used the simplest of lies: a stash of gold, which still
had value in this newly frozen world. It was in a museum, in the form
of artifacts, he had told them. Worth hundreds of millions. They had
bought it. Now, they planned to kill him and take it for themselves.
They were almost there. He had to make his move now.
He whirled and dropped to the ground. One shot killed the man behind
him. The next went through the head of the man on the right. The man on
the left fired, hitting David on the side of his stomach. David shot
twice, dropping him.
The frigid air kept the wound from bleeding out , but the damage was
done. David crawled through the blowing snow, following the signal. The
wind pushed and pulled at him, swirling the white flakes around him.
The indicator became steady. He looked around. The snow had long
covered the buildings here. Where was she? The phone said she should be
right here.
Then he realized what this meant.
She was here. Under the ice and snow.
His tears pooled in his goggles as he let himself slump to the ground.
Soon he could feel nothing, and the white that surrounded him turned
black, as he muttered, “Cassie, I’ve come home….”
###
“Keep close to me, monkeys.”
Cassandra pulled the kids closer to her as she stepped off the rickety
plane. The snow wasn’t as bad here. In comparison from the places she
had been , it was balmy.
They had landed some miles away from the base, since this wasn’t an
authorized flight. She walked toward the base, wishing she hadn’t lost
her phone. It would’ve made looking for David easier.
She couldn’t wait to see him again, to tell him she had come home….
The End
© 2015 Dionisio “Don” Traverso Jr.
Bio: This author’s
stories have been published with the byline of Don Traverso in Rod
Serling's Twilight Zone Magazine, Aberations, Midnight Zoo, Aphelion
Webzine,Armageddon Buffet, and Cheapjack Pulp. He currently has a
themed short story collection out, Tales From Walken County, and is
working on a second short story collection and two novels, one
featuring characters from this story. He also makes rhythmic noise as
Mekano 46 and My Silent Apocalypse.
E-mail: Dionisio
“Don” Traverso Jr.
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