Ram was confused as I came back inside with the tarps, the mower, the gas, and the tool box I'd found. He closed the door as I dumped my goods on the floor of the kitchen. Chance bounced into the room to examine my goods. Maria followed and blinked. "Mama's mower?"

    "Why did you bring that inside?" Ram looked less than pleased.

   I didn't answer right away. I flipped the mower over again and snagged a knife from the block on the table, chipping at some of the frost. I began to explain. "This mower has a combustion engine. It requires gas, but it produces heat."

   Ram's eyes squinted. "We have fire for heat."

   "True. But it might be possible to take this engine and apply it to something else." I looked up. "Like some sort of vehicle."

   "Is that even possible? It's not the same as a car's engine. I work with my papa on cars, and I know that's not going to get close."

   "Not necessarily a car. Something smaller, maybe closer to snow mobile. An engine rotates a track that moves it forward. I could attach it onto a bike and create my own tracks..." If I was lucky, it could work. I got the last of the frost off and checked the breaker box and grinned for the first time in a while. "This is intact. No reason it shouldn't start."

    Ram peered inside. "Mama used it all of the time. Perfectly fine."

   "Would you mind if I took this?" I looked up at him. "It could get me to my destination faster. Might even buy Chance some time." The dog was busy taking small pellets of food from Maria and the bag of dog food.

   Ram hesitated. I understood why. If he could use the mower for his own uses, then he'd want it. I tried to think of any way he could use it, but it had limited gas. Even I would not be able to use it for long. Besides, all it was was an engine. Making it into a source of light was not a good idea. And Ram had said, they had fire. They'd always have stuff to burn, considering the amount of debris in the front yard.

   "I guess..." He finally said. "If you can get it to work, it's all yours."

   "And the bike in the shed?"

   "That, too."

   I pulled a can of beans out of my bag and handed it over. "Then here. I might be stuck in here for a bit while I put this together. Food is on me."

   Ram's eyes widened. "Beans?"

   Maria poked her head into the room and smiled. "I still have Mama's spices." Ram handed it over. "Go right ahead, Mari." His lip twisted up into a crooked smile. "You haven't lived until you've tasted my mama's beans."

   While he made a fire and Maria gathered her things, I moved into the living room to start pulling the engine out of the mower. I was forced to take off my gloves in order to handle the pieces, and my fingers began to chill. I had to take the gloves on and off, because my hands got too cold to be steady.

   About an hour later, Maria returned with a bowl in her hands. I took it from her. The bowl was warm against my fingers. I hadn't removed my gloves to be able to feel warmth in months. For a second, I reveled in the feeling of being able to feel my fingers. I ate the beans shortly afterwards, before they got cold. I had to admit, Maria knew her way around the spices. They were excellent.

   She went to bed afterwards, taking Chance with her. An hour later and he trotted out of the room she'd been sleeping in. He sat down beside me and laid down, yawning and curling into a tight ball. I smiled a bit and continued working on the mower. Another hour or so later and I was able to bring in the bike and start figuring out a way to attach the motor and create tracks.

   Ram fell asleep around one in the morning. He'd been watching me warily, trying to make sure I kept my word, but he was too tired. He was an eleven-year-old, trying to be a parent. His stubbornness to leave the house was going to be his end, though. I exhaled with a sad look in his direction. Once I left here, I'd never see him again. He and Maria would last maybe a year before it was too cold for them to survive, if their food lasted that long.

   It was what he wanted. Even if it was fatal, I had no right to force him to survive. I shook my head and focused on my project. I'd practically emptied the whole shed by the time the small sun began to rise. I'd been working in the dark and thanked the light for coming back. My fingers were covered in oil and grease, but a shape was starting to take shape.

   I'd taken the bike and sat it upright. Using the metal pots from the shed, I'd punched a hole through the middle and used a fence rod to connect two together. A simple gear pattern rotated two of the rods at the same speed in the same direction when I turned the first gear. Finding and making a track had been one of the hardest parts. I'd ended up snagging a part of the chain-link fence, some more pieces of wire and rods, and started creating my own track. I used small pieces of the metal to give the track traction, so that'd be most efficient across the snow.

   I'd cut my hands multiple times by the time Ram woke up. He came out of his sister's room and rubbed his eye, a little surprised. "You stayed up all night."

   I nodded, focused on trying to tie off the chain-link to the rod. It was giving my cold fingers fits. I was starting to get frustrated with it, but getting mad wasn't doing any good. I blew out a breath and gave it another shot. Ram inspected the contraption that I'd done my best to attach to the bike.

   He drifted around as I finished the track. I fixed it around each side of the two rods, around the pots, and marked lines on the pots with the crowbar. I carefully cut out small divots in the outside of the pots for the track to fit into and have more stability. By the time I got the tracks on right, Maria had woken up and heated up more beans.

   I stood up, my knees groaning as blood went back into my legs. I examined the bike. Ram looked impressed. "You're a cop, not a mechanic."

   "Part of being a police officer is knowing how to be creative and resourceful. I was also captain of my robotics team in college. This isn't far off." The main problem I was having was handling the motor. As he said, I wasn't a mechanic. The motors I used in college were not combustion engines. Though that club had taught me to stabilize the wheels (I'd filled the pots with as much chain-link as possible to prevent wobbling), test the gears carefully, and check the balance of the pots and rod.

   Ram turned the track with his hand, being careful with the small ties of sharp metal. "How fast do you think it will move?"

   "Not very fast at all. But it will be a consistent, steady speed. That's already faster than I am and it lets me rest." I pointed at the pedals. "And when I run out of gas, I can detach the motor and just use the pedals. That's still less energy than walking." Pedaling would actually be faster, but I was going to use the gas before it froze.

   I spent the rest of the morning attaching the motor onto the bike and finding a way to make it turn the gear that connected to the tracks. Ram had to help me with that part. He somehow connected it so that when the motor fired up, it would rotate the tracks. I made him show me so I'd know how to fix it if it broke.

   The bike was practically complete. I filled it with gas and carried it to the door. "How far away is the next town?"

   Ram thought about it. "About thirty miles."

   That would normally take me a whole day. It was almost noon, but I suspected that even with the bike, I wouldn't make it before dark. Traveling at night was now less than an option than it was before. I had no idea how long this motor would last in the cold.

   "You can stay another night," Ram told me.

   I ended up doing just that. I spent the majority of the time sleeping. By the time next morning rolled around, I felt more energized than I had in ages. I was preparing to leave when Maria wandered into the room, a blanket around her shoulders. I'd just finished touches on the window. I'd closed it yesterday, but still felt a cold draft. It was now covered with a dozen garden tarps, pieces of wood, and the remains of the chain-link fence. A person wasn't getting through it.

   I would be leaving out the back door. Ram would board it up behind me. I was organizing my bag when Maria sat down beside me. She watched as I latched the satchel shut. "Why do you want to leave so much?"

   I looked at her. "I'm going somewhere."

   "Why?"

   I wasn't going to answer that question. If I said I was leaving for possible warmth and a home, she might want to come with me. Ram would be angry. I just shook my head. "I've got things to do, that's all."

   "Are you going to see your family?"

   I busied myself with readying my departure. "Well, I don't really have much of a family. I was raised by my grandparents until they died. All I've got is my little brother, and I have no idea where he is." I didn't know if he'd survived the months in the snow. He'd lived about a hundred miles further south. If he'd heard about the rumored construction of the Ark, and if he'd headed that way, he would have already beat me to it. 

   His hometown was on my route to the Equator. I was planning on stopping by to see if he had lingered. If he was gone . . . then there wasn't really anything I could do. It was a big world. I just hoped that the Ark was real and my brother had found it. Thinking about him was difficult. I hadn't allowed myself to dwell on the subject.

   My sore hands worked. I brought myself back to the present moment. Using strips of fabric, I'd tied handles over the gas cans and tied them to the bike. With them secure, my bags tight, I whistled. I'd learned that Chance apparently loved whistles. Sure enough, he came careening around the corner with a bark. Maria smiled as I picked him up. He already felt bigger.

   Ram came into the kitchen, holding the pieces of wood and a stack of nails. I fished the box out of my pocket and handed it to him. He set down the wood and opened the box, surprised at the ring inside. "Why do you have this?"

   "It was abandoned. It looks genuine, though. A real diamond." I started to situate Chance in my coat. "I don't know if it will ever have the same value, but if it does, it could buy you some firewood or something. A trader might be willing to take it for something in exchange. I've no idea what you could possibly get, or if anyone would be willing to trade rather than kill you for it, but I figured it was all I had to offer for my gratitude."

   Maria examined it with fascination. Ram frowned at me. "You really think you're going to find something down at the south?"

   "I've no idea. All I can do is hope." Because otherwise, I'm dead. We're all dead.

   He watched as I finished bundling Chance into my coat. I'd wrapped him in a blanket and zipped him up against my chest. His head peeked out of the neck of the furry coat as I began to wrap the lower-half of my face. Maria suddenly disappeared into her room and returned with another scarf. Ram protested, but she smacked his hand. "It's mine to give away!"

   "We might need it--"

   "Mr. Drifter needs it sooner." She handed it over. Ram shut his mouth, not willing to argue. I hesitated on taking the scarf. It was tempting to keep -- a thick, rough brown fabric that felt incredibly warm. It would protect my face well. "I'm not sure I need this, Maria."

   "You need it more than we do."

   "You'll need it later."

   She folded her arms. A little amused, I pulled of my own scarf and handed it over. "Then a trade. I won't take it without paying something back." She nodded and took it from me. Ram finally accepted defeat when she helped me wrap it around my head, only leaving a sliver for my eyes to peek out. The last loose fabric I kept with me was wedged under the scarf to cover my eyes -- it was thin enough to let me see through it but it kept my eyelashes from collecting snow. I'd learned that lesson quickly when it first started to get cold.

   Ram offered his hand. I shook it, marveling at how this boy had matured too quickly. There was a cold look behind his eyes, like he knew it too. Maria gave Chance a pat on the nose and I felt his tail try to wag in my coat. As I turned to go, he realized that it was about to get cold and wedged fully out of sight.

   Cold blasted my face as I opened the door. I carried the bike outside quickly and waved at the two kids inside. Maria waved back. "Bye, Mr. Drifter!" Ram closed the door as fast as was moderately polite.

   And with that, I was alone again.

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