Chapter 12 Cam #3
They were lighter than expected, made of lightweight aluminum, while the decking was made of a sturdy composite material.
He flexed the frame, finding it hard and stiff.
He flipped the snowshoe over. The bottom had built-in small metal spikes.
If the crust of the snow was slippery or he hit ice, they’d have the grip. Perfect.
“These will be great.” He grabbed the match and set them on the cement floor, where he jammed his foot into the bindings to be sure they fit.
It took a couple of tries to become proficient at putting them on and taking them off.
He took a few steps on the concrete floor, liking how he moved naturally.
Lissa passed him a strap from the wall. “So you can bind them together outside your pack when you aren’t wearing them.”
“Thanks.” He unclipped the bindings and bound the snowshoes to his pack.
On the way back inside the house, she stopped at a thick barrier dividing the workshop area from the rest of the spacious garage.
She thumped on the plywood wall. “I’ve made a small dent in it, but there are tons more cans in here.
” Flipping a series of metal clips, the wall opened like a series of cupboard doors with hundreds of gallon-sized cans inside.
His gaze traveled the length of the wall with several dozen more clips. She could survive for years on a stash like this.
Lissa scanned the labels and grabbed four large cans, stuffing them inside her empty pack. “My pancake mix was running low, and now I can also make biscuits whenever I want,” she said with a half-smile. She fixed the clips, making the wall appear ordinary again.
“I can’t believe you found all this food,” he said, even more impressed with her resourcefulness. She really was something special. They returned to the rest of the house. “Let’s look for a stove.”
They struck out in the front living room, a spacious room with vaulted ceilings and a massive flatscreen TV that covered most of one wall.
On one side was a gas fireplace. No good.
They moved on to the next room. Cam looked down at their wet footprints on the beige carpet.
He grimaced at leaving marks—even if nobody lived here anymore. It felt wrong to make a mess.
The family room at the back had a wood-burning fireplace. Strike two.
They found what he was looking for in a games room.
The rectangular stove resembled a cast-iron microwave with four curved legs and feet.
It had a flat area on top suited for cooking and long handles on square doors where it opened in the front.
He pictured Lissa’s kitchen with the tile floor.
The stove would look great tucked into the space for the range.
He’d hook the stovepipe into the range hood, venting outside the house.
“Does your kitchen have cooking pots?” said Cam. “Nice ones?” If she didn’t, this place might have some. He opened both stove doors, making sure everything was in working order.
She nodded. “I stowed them away and just use the largest, the smallest, and the griddle. They’re blackened from the fire, but quality.”
“Let’s get to work. I want to take the stovepipe too. There are a few pieces at your place we can use, but I need more.”
It took over an hour to dismantle the stovepipe and wrangle the stove onto the sleds. They fastened the sleds together, side by side, and after tying on the load, they set out after a quick lunch.
“Wrestling a stove uphill will be quite the feat.” He was tired already, and his foot ached. Probably because he hadn’t used it much in weeks. He might be sore and limping tomorrow. He might need to delay his departure for an extra day or two.
The return slog was exhausting, and he worked up a sweat, drenching his clothes beneath his jacket.
He unzipped the front and kept moving. Though the first few miles were flat, the stove was heavy and awkward, causing the sleds to sink deeper into the soft snow with their load.
At least they were both wearing snowshoes this time, following their packed trail back to Lissa’s place. It eased the strain somewhat.
When they reached the bottom of the driveway, he sent her ahead while he hid evidence of their passage. Before he followed, he surveyed the smoothed sections of snow. It wouldn’t hold up under scrutiny, but it was okay for now.
Light flakes of snow fell for the last hour while they trekked up the hill as dusk approached.
By the time they reached the house, the snow on the ground appeared blue in the fading light, and the sun sank low on the horizon.
It had taken them quite a while to get to town and back.
He revised his estimate of how long his trip to xTerra might take—more like four or five days.
Not three. Plus, the days were still getting shorter.
He calculated the date, deciding it was probably early December.
Even with snowshoes, trekking through the deep snow was harder than he’d expected.
The return trip would take more than three days, and it was difficult not to feel daunted.