Exposure

The black circle met Harris’ gaze as his fingers wound through the mug handle.

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He rolled it in his palm, feeling along the cracks of the ceramic. Pale orange dust flaked from its surface, glowing against his rimy skin.

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He peered into its mouth. A veneer of mold spread across the alabaster expanse, where the frost had preserved bacteria from a time long past.

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From under a nearby stack of musty newspapers, he procured a small cork circle, beginning to rot from exposure. Delicately, he laid it on the coffee table, just inside the light of the porch window.

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“I see the cold’s finally making you senile, old man.”

Harris gently set down the mug, aligning it perfectly to the center of the coaster.

“You know we couldn’t heat that thing up if we wanted to, right? That circle might as well be painted on.”

“Forgive me, Hawford,” he chuckled, noticing the woman’s smirk. “Just takin’ a trip down memory lane, is all.”

“Well, that seems to be all you’ve been doing lately,” remarked Hawford. “When’s the last time you went out with Everett for a drop? Hell, when’s the last time you even talked to Collins? She needs it, especially since her father...” She stopped.

Harris sighed. “I’m trying my best, kiddo.”

The door creaked open with the familiar blast of frosty air and copious swearing.

“Christ, it’s cold as shit,” Everett shivered. “Collins, get your ass in here.” The young girl shuffled into view, dragging the week’s supply beside her.

“This shit’s heavy, you know,” Collins grumbled.

As the cargo made its way inside the cabin, Everett forced the door shut against the howling wind. “Put that shit in the dining room for tonight,” she instructed, sliding off her gloves.

Hawford raised her hand. “I’ll help.”

As the two began to drag the haul out of the room, Everett coughed loudly. “I swear the temperature just keeps dropping lower and lower. When did absolute zero become a fucking suggestion?”

Harris waited until the girls had passed through the doorway. As the door closed, he turned and frowned. “Come on, now.”

Everett rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t fucking swear in front of the fucking kid. Newsflash, Harris. There’s nobody around anymore to hear a damn word she says, much less get offended by it.”

“Well, I’m here, and I don’t like it.”

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“So you’re in charge now, huh? And here I thought this was a commune.”

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“I’m just trying to keep everything civil, Everett.”

“And a shit ton of good that’s been doing!” She slammed her hand on the table, knocking the mug onto its side. “Collins and I have been shoveling your workload ever since Clancy was done in! When the fuck do you intend on growing a pair and--”

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“Shit.” hissed Harris. As he stood up from his seat and positioned himself next to the front door, Everett made her way to the closet, synchronizing like clockwork.

“Leave it to the dossie to interrupt a perfectly good argument,” she grumbled.

“We were playing with fire making that much noise,” Harris breathed. “You didn’t leave tracks here, did you?”

“How careless do you think we are?”

Hawford burst into the room, clutching her ice pick. “Is that the counter?”

“Well, it sure as hell ain’t no grandfather clock,” replied Harris, sharply. He unclipped the walkie-talkie from his belt and raised it to his shoulder. “Collins, give us the readout.”

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“Eight CPS,” the young girl’s voice spoke through the receiver. “Nine. Ten CPS.” Slowly, Everett removed the rifle from the closet shelf.

"Stabilizing at ten.”

As the winter gale whistled beneath the floorboards, Frost began to form on Harris’ eyes as he stood like a statue, perched against the door.

“Eight CPS. Six. Three.”

A collective sigh of relief resounded from the occupants of the cabin.

“Probably just after a deer or something,” Harris muttered.

“Yeah,” Hawford affirmed. “Probably.”

“We’re back at point-five,” Collins declared. “All clear.”

As Everett returned the firearm to its position, the young girl came bounding through the doorway. “I’m getting good at this now, aren’t I?” she announced.

“Hell yeah, you are,” Hawford grinned. “Good job, kiddo. Clancy-- I mean, your father would be proud.”

Everett scowled. “Don’t congratulate her. She knows damn well to alert us the moment that meter goes above two counts. Nearly got us killed.”

“Hey,” Harris spoke harshly. “Give the kid a break.”

“I’ll give out all the breaks I want when we’re done unloading this drop.”

---

“Flares?”

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The group stared incredulously at the sparse contents of the supply crate.

Everett folded her arms. “That’s all there was.”

Harris shook his head. “They’ve gotta be joking.”

“No rations?” Collins muttered. “No ammo?”

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“Why… why would they send us this?” Hawford cried. “They have to know those things seek heat, right?”

“Oh, they know,” Everett uttered. “They just stopped giving a shit. Only a matter of time before they realized it would be easier to cut us off than waste precious jet fuel every week.”

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Harris shook his head. “No. No, there’s gotta be a better reason why--”

“What other explanation do you want, Harris?” shouted Everett. “They just handed us a choice-- no, not a choice, an ultimatum. You can die a slow death in the wasteland, or take the quick way out. This is their way of showing mercy.”

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“No. That’s not right.” Harris repeated.

“So… this is the last one?” questioned Collins.

“This is it, Collins. No more airdrops. No more support. We fend for ourselves now. And as long as that’s the case, I’m in charge.”

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“Now just WAIT a second!” Harris shot bolt-upright, shaking a thin layer of rime off his coat. “We don’t know any of that for sure. For all we know, another group could’ve gotten to the rest before we did. Or animals. Or… those things. There are a thousand other possibilities we haven’t considered. If we go out there without food or ammo if the temperature keeps dropping, we’ll be dead without question!”

“And how the fuck would you know, Harris? You’ve been doing nothing but sitting on your ass staring at goddamn coffee mugs for the past week, while we’re the ones keeping us alive!” Seething, Everett kicked the flare box across the flagstone floor. “Clancy’s dead. He’s not coming back. So, listen the fuck up. Here’s what’s gonna happen: Collins and I saw a downed skiff a few kilometers north. We’re going to head out and see if there are any crates left inside. And in the meantime, you can make a nice meal out of one of these flares and fulfill that fucking death wish of yours.”

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The words hung in the stale air, penetrating every inch of the cabin. For a moment, Harris’ gaze locked onto the toppled orange mug, searching the blackness of the circle on its side, searching for some sort of direction. In the end, he found himself frozen, unable to even raise his head.

Collins, who had been on the verge of tears, ran into the adjacent room and slammed the door.

“Collins, wait!” Hawford called out. She turned to face Everett. “Harris could be right. This could just be a mistake. We don’t have enough supplies to last a hike that long.

“If you want to jump in his grave as well, suit yourself,” Everett spat. “Collins, get the fuck back here. We’re going.”

---

The whistle of the squall had long faded into the creak of ancient wood and the tick of the Geiger counter. Harris sat against the door, huddling in his ice-dusted coat as he watched the fading sunlight refract through the glass.

“Hey, old man.”

Hawford knelt down next to the exhausted man and put her hand on his shoulder.

“I’m going out back to see Clancy. Feel free to come if you want.”

---

The sun hung in the sienna sky like a pendulum, faintly illuminating the snow-covered grave at Hawford’s feet. A shard of ceramic plate rested on top, crudely inscribed with the name of Collins’ father.

“Clancy didn’t deserve to go like that,” said Harris, shutting the door and stepping into the snow. “God, no one does.”

Hawford smiled. “He carried Collins three kilometers with half his skin melted off. Didn’t even bat an eye when he handed her to us. Stubborn son of a bitch.” A tear crystallized in her eye.

For once, there was pure silence across the landscape.

“Did you have anyone, old man? Before all this chaos happened?”

Harris closed his eyes. “A long time ago, yeah. But they’re long gone now.”

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“We can’t let this happen to her,” she said softly. “Even if Everett’s right, we can’t just sit back and let the winter decide our fate for us.”

“We won’t,” Harris declared. “As long as there are others out there like us, we can survive as long as we need.”

In the distance, a cry rang out.

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The duo sprang to their feet and rushed to the front face of the cabin. From over the hill, the silhouettes of Collins and Everett appeared. Behind them was a trail of red.

“Fuck! Fuck!” Everett yelled. Collins was leaned against her, missing a leg and most of her blood.

Hawford and Harris rushed to the other half of their party.

“What the hell happened?” Hawford demanded, hoisting the girl’s free arm over her shoulder.

“One of them got to her. The crash site was crawling with them… someone left a fire in there… fuck!”

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The group herded the wounded Collins into the cabin and slammed the door.

“Did any of them follow you?” inquired Harris.

“No. Maybe, I don’t know. I stopped looking behind us half an hour ago. I don’t think the blood trail will help, though. They can’t be too far.”

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Hawford laid the girl on the floor beside the table. As Harris lifted her intact leg, the glint of the mug caught his eye, the black circle facing downwards as blood pooled around it.

Harris held his hand to Collins’ head. “Her body temperature’s dropping. Bandaging it won’t stop the blood.”

Outside, the breeze began to whistle once more, but was now joined by another sound.

“A plane,” Hawford exclaimed. “Everett, that’s a fucking plane.”

“Is this the bit where I say, ‘Well I’ll be damned,’ and start praising sunshine and rainbows?” Everett chuckled hoarsely. “It doesn’t matter much anyway. The girl’s good as dead.”

Harris stared in disbelief.

“You’re going to just let her die?” he exclaimed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hawford run into the dining room.

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“I obviously don’t want her dead,” she replied sternly. “But what the fuck else are we gonna do? Last I checked, there wasn’t any styptic or anesthetic lying around. She isn’t recovering from that on her own.”

Harris’ eyes widened as Hawford charged forth from the doorway with two flares in hand.

“There’s a way,” she proclaimed.

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“You’re going to signal it?” he said. “Hawford, wait…”

“There’s enough time. If we can get her on that plane, it can take her somewhere she can be treated.”

The rifle bolt clicked into place as Everett emerged from behind them.

“The fuck you will,” she stated smoothly.

“Fuck you!” Hawford cried. “If we do nothing, what does that make us? What will Clancy have died for?”

Everett looped an icy finger around the trigger. “If you pop that flare, they’ll be over us in minutes. You could kill all of us.”

Hawford inhaled with a shudder. “That’s the choice I’m willing to make.”

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“I’m not giving you a choice, sweetheart.”

As Hawford turned and swung open the door, Harris reached for the mug.

“I’m giving you a fucking ultimatum.”

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Harris lobbed the mug towards Everett’s head.

As it hit its target, the rifle’s blast nearly drowned out the sound of orange ceramic shattering into infinite shards.

Everett and Hawford fell to the ground in perfect synchrony. As the whistling wind morphed into a howl, splinters of the fading sun danced across their combined pools of blood like an aurora.

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Harris fell to his knees.

In the glow of the lit flare, he could see a fragment that remained somewhat intact. Although not much remained of the black circle, the heat was still enough to reveal the image underneath of a portrait: a father and his family, long lost to the wintry expanse.

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As the last rays fell below the horizon, and the steady rumble of the cargo plane dissipated, all that Harris could hear was the buzz of a thousand frozen hells.

---

Written by Noctevoire
Content is available under CC BY-SA