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had already pocketed her knife.
    “Shake it out first, so I can see if there’s anything hidden in there.”
    Coral did as he said and then rolled up her bag and tied it snugly. She slung it over her shoulders. “I assume you’re taking us somewhere.” Their compound or lair or whatever. Another trap?
    Kathy emerged from the snow cave, pushing the last of their gear ahead of her and holding to their hatchet. “Burlap sacks, huh? Go on and pack them.”
    “I had a nice backpack, once,” said Coral. “The cultists did something with it.”
    “When you say cult, are you talking polygamous Mormons or…?” Kathy said.
    “They weren’t polygamous, and they weren’t Mormons, unless I’m very confused about what that is,” said Coral. And that was possible. She’d never met a Mormon before, as far as she knew. “This was some weird UFO end-of-the-world thing. Totally crazy, no offense if that’s your deal, too.”
    “I’m a Methodist,” said Kathy. “Lapsed, I guess.”
    Which struck Coral as funny, that in the post-Event world, someone still identified themselves that way. Sounded safer than alien baby-breeders, though.
    Benjamin had made short work of his share of the packing. He stood and pointed at the burlap sacks. “Do you want us to carry them?”
    “I’ll take the heavy one,” Coral said, reaching for it.
    “No,” said Benjamin. “I’ll get it.”
    “You’ve done more than your share this past couple weeks. And remember your arm,” she said.
    “Let Coral take hers. I’ll take the heavier sack,” said Kathy. “You can baby that arm.”
    Wrong word to use, baby . Benjamin scowled at it like a six-year-old kid being told he was a baby.
    That told her, as much as anything, that he must be hurting. “Did I make it worse?” she said.
    “I’m fine ,” he said. But within a few steps, he put his arm back in the sling.
    Martin was no fool about positioning himself well behind the rest of them. Benjamin went first, then Coral, then a space of eight or ten feet, and Kathy. Martin brought up the rear and directed Benjamin to follow the newcomers’ tracks back toward the west. The sun was a barely-lighter patch in the sky as they walked toward it for nearly an hour.
    Coral was surprised at herself for how calmly she was acting. Inside, she was angry, and frightened, and barely holding herself back from attacking the superior force, unwise as that would be. Somehow, despite her inner turmoil, she was keeping it together and pretending to be a meek and obedient prisoner.
    She knew she was physically weak, and Benjamin’s arm would limit what he could do in an attack. If they were to free themselves of their captors, it would have to be through wile, not direct force. If they were to free themselves, they needed their rifle, and the hatchet, and her knife back, too. Without those, the odds against their survival skyrocketed.
    For now, Coral could bide her time.

Chapter 4
     
    They were losing light when they came to the strangers’ camp. Two other men sat at a campfire. A tent was pitched nearby. Both men stood, weapons in hand. One had a rifle with a scope, the other a shotgun.
    Four weapons were arrayed against them and not even her pocket knife to defend herself. Coral was under the control of a far superior force.
    They were communicating with each other wordlessly, the glancing, raised eyebrows, little shrugs of people who knew each other well. It didn’t take a genius to know the silent conversation was about her and Benjamin.
    The first words spoken were Kathy’s. “Coral is her name. She’s a doctor.”
    Coral didn’t deny it. If she was seen as a useful asset, maybe that would keep her alive.
    “Looks awful young to be a doctor,” said one of the new men, a tall man with a fur lined hood framing a long face.
    Coral kept her silence.
    “Well?” he prodded. “Are you?”
    If they had anyone in their group who knew about medicine, she didn’t think she could fake being an MD.