Ashen Winter (Ashfall)

up our heads. A Humvee painted in desert camo was parked next to the hut. As we watched, the two guards I’d seen earlier stumbled out and piled into the Humvee. The guy driving did a clumsy five-point turn, tapping the snow berm with his front bumper and the guard shack with his rear. Then he pulled through the gate, and the passenger jumped out to close and padlock it. I held my breath, hoping he wouldn’t notice the hole I’d cut in the fence. But he was in a big hurry and didn’t spend any time looking around. When they started out again, the Humvee lurched forward, almost stalled, and then bounced up over the railroad embankment out of our sight.
    “Did they abandon the hut?” I whispered.
    Darla frowned. “I doubt it. Let’s get the bike and move on.”
    “I want to check the hut first. Maybe they left some wheat.”
    Darla shook her head but got the shotgun ready, anyway. I crawled along the snowbank toward the hut.
    When I got there, I peeked over the windowsill. One guy in camo fatigues and a black watch cap was sitting at the table. A pile of wheat kernels was spread in front of him along with five or six purple cloth Crown Royal whisky bags. He was counting the wheat seeds and sorting them into bags. He sat facing the hut’s door but was so absorbed in his task that he didn’t see me.
    I crawled back along the snow berm to Darla. “There’s only one guy in there now, and he’s got wheat.”
    “I can’t shoot a guy just to get wheat.”
    “Who said anything about shooting him? Just hold the shotgun on him, and I’ll tie him up or something.”
    “What if he goes for his gun? Then I’ll have to shoot him.”
    I shrugged. “You ready?”
    “I guess.”
    We crawled back to the guard shack together. Everything was still. We hid under the window. When I’d caught my breath, I peeked over the windowsill.
    The guard was still messing around with his bags of wheat. We slithered around to the other side. A sliding-glass window faced the road, kind of like a fast-food drive-thru. Next to that was the door, a normal metal entry door with a lock on the handle and a deadbolt. I crawled up to it, reached up, and slowly, very slowly, tried turning the knob to see if it was locked. It was.
    Darla pantomimed a kick. I shook my head. She had more confidence in my taekwondo skills than I did. Even with a perfect kick, I might not break the door, and then we’d completely lose the advantage of surprise.
    I waved at Darla to follow and crawled around the shack to the opposite side. We peered through the window. The guard’s back was to us. His assault rifle dangled from his chair. He seemed to be completely absorbed in sorting the wheat. I raised my head to examine the window. It was an ordinary double hung, like the ones we’d had in my house in Cedar Falls. A brass latch at the top of the lower sash held it closed.
    I ducked back below the windowsill and pantomimed my plan to Darla. She nodded after I went through it once, but I did the whole thing again just to make sure. By the time I finished, she was scowling and rolling her hand as if to say get on with it.
    I held up three fingers . . . two . . . one.

Chapter 16
    We stood simultaneously, and Darla rammed the barrel of the shotgun through the window. The clash of breaking glass shattered the stillness. The guard swiveled in his chair and yelled, “What the—”
    “Hands in the air!” I bellowed.
    His face tightened as he took in the broken window and shotgun.
    “Get your hands up! Now!” Darla yelled.
    The guard raised his hands slowly, muttering all the while, “For shit’s sake, how many times do I have to tell the captain it’s not safe to have one guy here.”
    “Guess he’ll believe the next guy,” Darla said. She bashed out more of the window glass using the barrel of the shotgun. I reached through, careful to keep my arm away from the business end of the gun, and unlatched the window. Darla backed up a step so I could push open the sash.
    “You gonna flense me?” the guard asked.
    “Might not. You look stringy to me,” Darla said. “Hardly worth the trouble.”
    “Maybe you don’t have any shells for that shotgun.”
    “You can test that theory. You’ll find out the truth a millisecond before you die.” Darla moved to the side as I crawled through the window.
    I stood up behind and to one side of the guard, trying to stay out of Darla’s line of fire. I took the assault rifle off the back of the chair and slung it