Ashen Winter (Ashfall)

up!”
    Most of the group turned toward the meat locker door on my side of the shed. I ducked behind the minivan again and checked to make sure Brick and I were out of sight.
    The ratchet clanked as someone pulled it free of the door. I realized this could be the perfect opportunity to escape and slithered around the minivan on my belly. The gang members’ feet were silhouetted by the fire as they tromped back and forth from the meat locker to the truck.
    There was an open area between the minivan and the closest snowmobile—ten feet or so. I waited, ready to rush across the gap. All my muscles were tensed; my breath came in short, fast gasps. Everyone seemed to be focused on their work. I hurled myself across the gap.
    A voice boomed, “Hey, there’s someone back there!”
    “Uhh,” I groaned softly. I’d almost made it.

Chapter 38
    The shed was suddenly silent. I heard footsteps coming closer. “Who’s there?” a voice barked, so close it felt like he was on top of me. I scuttled around the snowmobile, keeping it between me and the voice.
    Someone else said, “It’s just Brick.”
    “That you, Brick?” the voice said. I prayed Brick was still asleep.
    “Dumbass is probably planning to jump out and scare us.” The same voice continued, yelling now. “It don’t work like that, Brick. It’s not scary when you hide and jump out—only when we all do it to you.”
    Everything paused for a second, as if they were expecting a response. I held my breath and scrunched as tightly into the darkness as I could.
    “Back to work,” Ace yelled. “I want to make Anamosa, deliver this meat to Danny, and get back while there’s still daylight.”
    “But Brick oughta be helping—”
    “You can deal with him after I’m on the road. Now finish loading, or I’ll be bringing Danny more carcasses than I promised.” I heard a door slam—Ace getting into the truck, maybe.
    I heard footsteps moving away from my hiding place, and the general racket resumed. I slowly let out the breath I’d been holding. My hands were trembling; I closed my eyes briefly and tried to relax my muscles.
    I was still at least twenty feet from the back of the truck and even farther from the shed’s doors—plus the open area between me and the truck was close to the fire and well-illuminated. I’d never make it across without being seen. I needed some kind of distraction.
    I wormed toward one of the workbenches against the shed wall, being careful to keep the snowmobile between me and the Peckerwoods. I reached up with one arm and blindly groped around the surface of the workbench. I felt something cylindrical and grabbed it.
    It was a heavy flathead screwdriver. That would work. I crawled back to my hiding place alongside the snowmobile. Ready as I’ll ever be, I thought.
    I reached over the snowmobile and hurled the screwdriver at the opposite wall of the shed. It clanged against the metal wall so loudly that the sound reverberated through the building. I peeked over the top of the snowmobile. Everyone was looking in the direction of the noise, and about half of them were moving that way. Now or never. I thrust myself upright and ran behind them, moving fast but running on my toes, trying to keep my boots from making too much noise.
    I reached the back end of the truck and ran alongside it, so it was between me and the gang investigating the noise at the other side of the shed. The cab of the truck was sitting just inside the open doors of the maintenance shed. A beautiful rectangle of light beckoned: freedom. I ran for it, sprinting alongside the truck.
    Just then, a leather-jacketed arm pushed the cab door open, blocking my escape.

Chapter 39
    I skidded to a stop. I was less than ten feet from the door. When the driver got out, I’d be dead meat. A boot appeared. I dropped to my belly and tried to worm under the truck, alongside the double set of rear wheels. My backpack caught on something. Another boot joined the first under the cab door. I scrabbled against the concrete floor, forcing myself forward. Something ripped as I popped under the truck’s dark, oily underbelly.
    I heard Ace yelling from the direction of the cab. “If the rest of that meat isn’t loaded in five minutes flat, I’m adding one of you to the load.”
    “But there’s someone in here, Ace!” one of the gang yelled back.
    “Forget that! It’s just Brick messin’ with you. Fix his hash after I’m on the road.”
    The boots disappeared, and I