lay his head in the four years since returning. At some point he thought he might return to society, but the very thought of leaving the peacefulness of his current surroundings made him slink further within its confines. Part of the reason for that was the fact that he’d never let his family know that he returned from war. And now that it had been four years, there was little point in explaining why . Bishop was a different man now, and he’d never return to being the same person he was before. No ambition came to him to look for a job in weather or anything else or to reunite with his family. He only wanted to remain alone.
The drip-dripping was a constant sound in the cave depths unless the ground was frozen, as the current conditions were now. The silence brought on by the sudden cold temperatures was eerie. Bishop found himself struggling to even sleep in such a vacuum. Even the unseen wild animals were spooked. He’d awoken twice last night after hearing noise he usually didn’t pay much attention to.
It was so quiet that even a passing elk alerted him to his presence. The beasts often traveled in herds, but this one, a young one, must have strayed from the group. The animal’s hoofprints still showed his path the next morning. That’s when Bishop thought the time was right to take him if he could still find him.
Bagging meat was an all-day job, and he wasn’t exactly ready for the hard work, but he suspected the Tildons needed the meat if Maeve was as prepared on the inside as he viewed the outside of their home to be. He’d bet she hardly had any food in the pantry if he looked.
Packing his bow, he also brought along an AR-10 with .308 soft-point rounds if the bow somehow failed him. Bishop wore an extra insulated jacket since overnight more than ten inches of snow had fallen. The added benefit was the relief that Maeve Tildon wouldn’t be going anywhere today either. By now she’d discovered her car didn’t work, and she was probably panicking about her circumstances.
Bishop turned and, as he always did, locked the metal gate that he had fastened to the structure to deter the temptation of theft from bear or human beast if they happened to stumble upon his little abode. No key was needed. All he needed to do was slide his thumbprint over the touchpad, though taking off a glove was a hindrance in the cold weather. At least he never lost his keys. The solar powered lock worked on minimal sunlight, and that was a good thing since it existed deep in a forest.
Bishop had to break through the snow on his way out of camp. Ten inches of snow would make the day arduous while tracking the elk, but if his hunch was right, the wildlife in the region would soon become scarce from overhunting as food ran low.
Watching the night skies was a habit, and Bishop was confident that what he’d studied and written his thesis on in college was coming true. The Maunder Minimum was upon them, and these low temperatures, so early in the year, were here to stay, and they were only just the beginning.
Chapter 9
Just before dawn the next morning, Maeve stirred, blinking her eyes in the milky blueness of a dawn too early for such a name. Yes, she was awake and could sleep no more. The air of the room was frigid as she stared up at the vaulted ceiling—the realization finally hitting her that with all the empty space above, the precious heat was fleeting too quickly into the void.
She’d slept alongside her child on a neat pallet near the woodstove and without the furnace working. She’d become a wood-feeding slave to provide the warmth needed to keep them comfortable which made her appreciate her elders’ plight in days gone by.
As Ben snored, she folded the blankets tightly against his small back as she sat up and stretched out her long legs after keeping them tucked closely underneath herself last night. Her calf muscles were stiff, so she reached for her toes within her thick woolen socks and pulled her muscles
The drip-dripping was a constant sound in the cave depths unless the ground was frozen, as the current conditions were now. The silence brought on by the sudden cold temperatures was eerie. Bishop found himself struggling to even sleep in such a vacuum. Even the unseen wild animals were spooked. He’d awoken twice last night after hearing noise he usually didn’t pay much attention to.
It was so quiet that even a passing elk alerted him to his presence. The beasts often traveled in herds, but this one, a young one, must have strayed from the group. The animal’s hoofprints still showed his path the next morning. That’s when Bishop thought the time was right to take him if he could still find him.
Bagging meat was an all-day job, and he wasn’t exactly ready for the hard work, but he suspected the Tildons needed the meat if Maeve was as prepared on the inside as he viewed the outside of their home to be. He’d bet she hardly had any food in the pantry if he looked.
Packing his bow, he also brought along an AR-10 with .308 soft-point rounds if the bow somehow failed him. Bishop wore an extra insulated jacket since overnight more than ten inches of snow had fallen. The added benefit was the relief that Maeve Tildon wouldn’t be going anywhere today either. By now she’d discovered her car didn’t work, and she was probably panicking about her circumstances.
Bishop turned and, as he always did, locked the metal gate that he had fastened to the structure to deter the temptation of theft from bear or human beast if they happened to stumble upon his little abode. No key was needed. All he needed to do was slide his thumbprint over the touchpad, though taking off a glove was a hindrance in the cold weather. At least he never lost his keys. The solar powered lock worked on minimal sunlight, and that was a good thing since it existed deep in a forest.
Bishop had to break through the snow on his way out of camp. Ten inches of snow would make the day arduous while tracking the elk, but if his hunch was right, the wildlife in the region would soon become scarce from overhunting as food ran low.
Watching the night skies was a habit, and Bishop was confident that what he’d studied and written his thesis on in college was coming true. The Maunder Minimum was upon them, and these low temperatures, so early in the year, were here to stay, and they were only just the beginning.
Chapter 9
Just before dawn the next morning, Maeve stirred, blinking her eyes in the milky blueness of a dawn too early for such a name. Yes, she was awake and could sleep no more. The air of the room was frigid as she stared up at the vaulted ceiling—the realization finally hitting her that with all the empty space above, the precious heat was fleeting too quickly into the void.
She’d slept alongside her child on a neat pallet near the woodstove and without the furnace working. She’d become a wood-feeding slave to provide the warmth needed to keep them comfortable which made her appreciate her elders’ plight in days gone by.
As Ben snored, she folded the blankets tightly against his small back as she sat up and stretched out her long legs after keeping them tucked closely underneath herself last night. Her calf muscles were stiff, so she reached for her toes within her thick woolen socks and pulled her muscles
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