SNAFU: Wolves at the Door

The blizzard had blown itself out during the long night, but not before dumping close to two feet of snow over the entire area. The map was almost useless, but after close to an hour he’d managed to find the stream again and begun moving in the opposite direction, using the runoff as his marker. A little after noon he found the bridge where everything had gone down the night before. There was no sign of a police car, or of the vehicle that had pushed partially through the guard railing.

It was close to four in the afternoon before they made it back to the place where they’d initially been dropped off. George saw the SUV idling at the edge of the snow covered road and openly sobbed.

The vehicle was running, and he increased his pace, stumbling several times but never quite falling. He made it to the curb next to the Ford and stared at the driver for several seconds, almost afraid to believe his eyes.

Eric Fulford looked so beautiful in that moment that he would have gleefully kissed him. It was only Eric who stepped out of the idling vehicle. Scott was not with him, and neither were any of his family members. He stood ramrod straight and did nothing to help either of them as they came forward. But when they were close, his hard features softened and he hugged George briefly before moving to help Mark into the back seat.

The road conditions were still hellish; though it was obvious the area had been plowed.

“Where are we going?”

“Local hospital.” Eric kept his eyes on the road, and they crawled slowly through the frozen wasteland. “Scott’s already there. Allison is in labor, or she was the last time I checked in.”

“Is your... Are Sarah and the boys all right?”

“Yeah.” Eric slowed down to a standstill and looked at George for several seconds. “I don’t know about Cheryl or Mark’s little ones. I haven’t seen them yet.”

“How did you know where to find us?”

“You had a visitor last night. John.”  Eric’s face turned to stone again, a sure sign that he was trying not to let his anger get the best of him. Long before he’d signed up for the military Eric Fulford had been the sort to bottle up his negative feelings.

“John…” George knew what Eric was thinking. He didn’t have to say the man whose wife you let get murdered, for George to know that was what he was holding inside.

“Way I understand it, he’s the one that decided you got to live. He went back to where you were last night and watched over all of you. He told me what happened with Cullie.”

George tried to catch his breath, but it didn’t seem possible. Even thinking of the nightmare from earlier was enough to put a crushing pressure on his rib cage.

“I can’t talk about that.” George barely recognized his own voice.

“Fair enough.” He accelerated, but carefully. Eric was always a careful man. He seldom let his emotions get the better of him. George had always admired that about him.

They rode in silence the rest of the way.

* * *

Roland padded across the snow and watched the SUV as it moved. John was beside him the entire time, moving just as quietly. They made it to their stashed clothes long before the men in the vehicle had parked and sought help for Mark Loman.

Susan was still in the waiting room. He smiled for her and she returned the smile before standing up and coming into his arms. It had been a bad night and though she’d been worried about him being angry for taking Lassiter to this place, he was fine with it. She’d saved him the extra trip.

It wasn’t long before Eric Fulford joined them in the room. He sat by himself and waited to hear about the birth of Lassiter’s child. They all waited, though they had different reasons for wanting to know what happened.

Scott Lassiter came next, his pale face showing the strain of waiting. Allison Lassiter was fine. He shared that information with Fulford moments after he entered the room. Roland and his people sat at the far end of the waiting area and said nothing.

The baby might live. The baby might die. That was the way of things.

Fulford and Lassiter left the room after a few moments and were gone for close to half an hour. George Heatherly came in and sat down, holding a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his trembling hands. He didn’t look at them even once.

“They’ll ask, you know.” It was John who spoke, his voice soft and careful. This was, of course, the dangerous time. Whatever Roland said would be accepted, but the decision could well break apart his authority within the group.

Roland looked at his wife and then at his son-in-law and nodded. “If they ask, I’ll say yes.”

He was rather surprised when both nodded their approval.

It was Fulford who actually asked. Lassiter was still too stressed, apparently and didn’t trust himself not to lose his temper.

The man came up and asked to speak to Roland in the hallway. Roland nodded and instead of stopping there, walked outside into the cold.

Lassiter and Fulford both stood with him, but it was Fulford who finally posed the question. “Your kind heals quickly?”