Page 2 of Winter Reckoning
Protection detail. No backup listed. No incident history. No explanation for why this required a powered officer. A single paragraph sat in the middle of the page, every line redacted. A red file with redactions? I thought it had been top level clearance, but obviously I still had a few things to learn.
I looked up. "This is a babysitting job."
"Yes."
“Then give it to Percy.”
"No."
I closed the file. The red stripe caught the overhead lights. Redline meant classified. It meant questions wouldn't get answered, and pushing back would only make it worse. Redacted paragraphs on a Redline? Someone didn’t want this mission reviewed. Not by me, not by anyone. The last one Alvarez handed me involved shapeshifters inside Vanguard law enforcement. What could be this serious and not require the entire department to get involved?
"Why me?"
Alvarez didn't blink. "Because you'll do the job."
That landed harder than I expected. Not an insult. Just the truth. I'd built a career on doing exactly that. Show up. Handle it. Move on. No attachments. No complications. Clean exits.
Three days until my final goodbye.
I tried one more time. "You're wasting my time."
“Frost.” One word put an end to my protests. It had been made official with no room for negotiations. She stepped aside, clearing my path to the door. “I have the utmost faith in you.”
I could have argued. Could have told her to reassign it. Could have walked out and let the consequences fall where they would. It’d have only resulted in a premature retirement and losing my pension. Instead, I tucked the file under my arm and headed for the exit.
No goodbyes. No acknowledgments. Just silence and the sound of my boots against tile.
The parking lot stretched empty under a gray sky. My truck sat in the far corner, where I always left it. With no ability to fly or teleport, they referred to me as part of the ground unit. We had fancy cars, but I preferred showing up to the scene in my beaten-up pickup truck. So far, she hadn’t given up on me.
I threw the duffel in the back and climbed into the driver's seat. The engine turned over on the second try. I let it idle while I stared at the file on the passenger seat.
A Redline.
“Dammit,” I muttered. I backed out of the spot and pointed the truck north.
The city thinned as I drove toward Whitetail Ridge. Skyscrapers gave way to low buildings, then industrial zones, then scattered houses with yards that needed mowing. The highway stretched ahead, empty except for a few early commuters heading in the opposite direction. I kept the radio off. The hum of the engine and the tires against asphalt was enough.
The windshield fogged. I cranked the heat and wiped the glass with my sleeve. Snow hadn't started yet, but winter held its breath, ready to bury everything in a layer of white. I could feel it in my bones, not the cold, but the turning point when Mother Nature readied her storm.
An hour passed. Then another. The trees grew thicker. The road narrowed. I passed a gas station that looked like it hadn't seen business in a decade. A few more miles and I'd hit WhitetailRidge. Then I'd meet my charge. Three days. I only needed to survive three days, then I’d be out.
For good.
I glanced at the file again. It wasn’t my first protection detail. I had been assigned to watch over everybody, from celebrities facing death threats to the mayor during an alien incursion. Most of the time, it was nothing more than sipping coffee and assuring them they weren’t in any real danger.
So why did this one give me a chill?
2
“Dammit.”
I sat in the truck as it idled. Even with the heater blasting lukewarm air, the cold persisted. The first few flakes had fallen, but the full might of the storm lay waiting. Before the end of the day, there’d be a fresh layer of powder.
The access road ended half a mile from the cabin. The driveway had been a long winding path, but I had reached my destination. I tossed my bag over my shoulder and got out of the truck. The cabin couldn’t look any less threatening if it tried.
The wind came sideways through the trees, sharp enough to make my eyes water. I zipped my coat to my chin and started walking. Single door. Log structure. All the lights were on. With a quick spin, I couldn’t see another house. Even Vanguard had all but faded.
I headed along a single half-shoveled path toward the front door. My boots broke through the crust with each step, sinking ankle-deep. No tire tracks. No footprints, at least not human. I crouched down to inspect the thin disturbance in the snow. Deer, maybe? In all my years in the city, I had never seen a deer. At least I hadthatto look forward to.
