Fully Loaded by Blake Crouch, J. A. Konrath Read Free Book Online

guess.”
    “But the question,” McClurg said, “is how you feel about dishonest work?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Well think on it, get back to us.”
    The men laughed again and Nathan swiped the jar from Dan, tilted it back.   McClurg hoisted a log onto the fire, a spray of ashes engulfing Oatha .   He rummaged through his satchel, located the loaf of sourdough he’d bought before leaving Silverton.
    “Break me off a hunk a that,” Nathan said, and Oatha tore off a piece.
    “Got a round a cheese in here, too.”
    “Don’t be stingy.”
    They cut cheese onto the bread, set the slices on hot stones in the fire’s vicinity to let it melt.  
    The storm brought a premature night, and in the firelight, Oatha watched the snow fall without respite.   They played cards until the fire ran out of wood, won the last of Oatha’s money, drank up his quart of whiskey, smoked all of his tobacco.  
    As the other men snored, Oatha lay awake.   If it hadn’t been snowing so hard, he’d have attempted to sneak out of camp, resaddle his horse, and get the hell away from Nathan and the boys.   He didn’t want to look it in the eye, but the truth of the matter was that he’d backed himself into a bind, and if he didn’t slip away from them tomorrow, he’d probably never reach Abandon.
     
    Oatha’s eyes opened.   As he sat up, his vision sharpened into focus and he saw the gray-white madness of the blizzard, the canvas sheet sagging to the ground at one end, the snow piled up three feet around the boundary of their little shelter.
    He held his hands toward the low fire, his head throbbing again, a whiskey hangover that wouldn’t die until
noon
at the earliest.
    Nathan looked at him, shook his head.  
    “My horse and yours are dead.   We’ve caught a bad piece a luck here.”
     
    They stayed under the canvas all day, taking turns venturing out to gather wood from the abundance of rotted spruce and melting snow in the emptied whiskey jars, a tenuous proposition, the fire and ice resulting in shattered glass in two out of three attempts.  
    By evening, the snow had quit but the wind raged on through the night, and the sound of limbs cracking kept Oatha from the depths of restful sleep.
     
    The second morning dawned cloudless and bright.   They saddled the two remaining horses and broke camp as the first rays of sunlight struck the Teats, Oatha clinging to
    Dan, Nathan to the substantial girth of McClurg .  
    A quarter mile out from the shelter, Dan’s horse stopped in its tracks and refused to take another step, snow to its belly, nostrils flaring in the thin air.
    “I’ll make you go!”
    He dismounted, grabbed the bridle strap and fought to drag the horse forward, but it wouldn’t budge, even when Dan drew his Colt and smacked the animal across the bridge of its nose.
    “Enough,” Nathan said.   “These animals ain’t built for this.”
    “Maybe just one of us should take a horse, try to make Abandon,” Oatha said.
    “Who, you?”
    “To what end?”
“To get help.   Bring back a sled or a—”
    “Snow’s too deep,” Nathan said.   “Hell, it’s just early October.   We’ll get us a warm spell in a couple days.   Good sod-soaker.”
    “We’re almost out a provisions,” McClurg said.   “We’re just supposed to wait around?”
    “I ain’t in control of the weather, Marion .”
    Oatha climbed down from the horse, and Dan screamed at the animal, “Go on!   Get!”
    “No, you dumb shit,” Nathan said.   “We need ‘ em .”
    “For what?”
    “Hard to tell just how long we may be stuck out—”
    “I ain’t eatin my horse.”
    “Circumstances like this ain’t the time to make declarations a what you will and won’t
    do.”
     
    It was snowing again by nightfall, and it didn’t stop for three days, the snow accumulating higher than the canvas tarp so that the shelter more resembled a snow cave.  
     
    Oatha could tell by the brightness of the tarp that the sun was out.