The Long Dark by Billy Farmer (best books to read non fiction .TXT) 📕

fear. I pointed to the guy pounding on the cab door. He waved and pointed frantically ahead, ignoring the seemingly bigger problem I was dealing with. I put my hands in the air letting him know I didn’t have a clue what he was talking about. Then I saw exactly what he was talking about.

Through the powerful lights of the loader, I could see figures slowly emerging from the dark. First one and then two, three, and finally I lost count at ten. The leading edge of the group was almost on Aadesh, and he was making sure I knew how bad of a predicament he was in. He also made sure to let me know, because of his highly animated gestures, that he wanted to get the hell out of the bucket. I yelled for him to “Stay in the fucking bucket!” I then raised it up several feet in the air, out of their reach. His wide eyes relaxed, albeit only slightly.

I don’t know why, but I tried to reason with the dude pounding on the cab door. “Get the hell away,” I said, gesticulating that he should move away from the rear wheel that was coming very close to squishing him. His big, black eyes never broke their perpetual lock with mine and, undeterred, he continued pounding until he was simply not able to match the pace of the front loader. His gray face contorted as he fell away from view, and his body was a scant hindrance to the big wheels as he passed under.

I turned my attention to the other attackers, while also slowly increasing the speed of the loader. One of them was quick fodder for the front left wheel. Another spun in circles, confused about what he should be doing. Some of the others were simply too slow to react to the loader as we sped by. There were two of them, though, who managed to time things correctly and jump on both the right and left front fenders, in something that seemed way too coordinated for my liking.

The one on my left was especially adept. In a couple motions, he used one of the steps of the cab as a foot peg, leaping off it and landing squarely on the fender. The one on my right, although in a much less agile manner, grasped onto the fender and willed himself up.

I remember their gray faces vividly. There was evil intent in their eyes. While they didn't exactly look inhuman, they looked just enough different that I wasn’t going to be too upset if they also found themselves under the big wheels of the loader, especially since the one on the left was now trying to climb the bucket arm up to where Aadesh was.

I pantomimed that he should use the gun he had to try to shoot the Sniffer nearest to him. He looked confused as hell. The idea of actually using the gun to shoot someone seemed to hit home hard. He fumbled with the rifle. The other Sniffer was stuck on the fender, not sure of what he should do next. We would concentrate on the other one first, assuming Aadesh didn’t shoot himself in the process.

With one hand on the control throttle, and the left side of my right foot pressing down on the seat so the safety switch wouldn’t cut the engine, I opened the cab door and yelled out to Aadesh. “Shoot him, dammit!”

The Sniffer looked at Aadesh, then back at me before settling on the closest target, Aadesh. He went back to trying to find a way to get him.

At least by that point Aadesh was holding the rifle in a firing position. The gray was close enough that he could just put the tip of the barrel on the Sniffer’s head and fire. He got part of that correct. He used the tip of the barrel to poke the Sniffer. Except that he couldn’t put enough force behind it to dislodge him from the arm.

“Shoot him!” I yelled.

Finally, a shot was fired, and the Sniffer fell to the ground. Aadesh had shot him in what looked like his neck. Wherever he hit him, he was now off the loader. Aadesh, looking very pale, ejected a vomitus spray, followed by a long string of words I wasn’t sure made any sense at all. I couldn’t make sense of them, anyway. Besides, I was still worried about the Sniffer who was somehow still managing to ride out the rough terrain on the fender.

I serpentined the loader, trying make him fall off, but he was holding on for dear life. With all my attention being paid to the hitchhikers, I hadn’t noticed the lights approaching quickly from behind us. Aadesh’s eyes got wide again. He saw the truck speeding to my left, going way faster than he should have been on the ice. The window was down and the man had a gun aimed in our direction.

Luckily for us, the truck was going too fast and the driver hit a snow bank, which caused the shots to go high. The big diesel nearly spun out of control, before the driver managed to correct his steering. They were behind us again and preparing for another pass.  Aadesh, to his credit, had his rifle up and ready to fire, and I was preparing to shoot mine as well. I kept my foot on the gas, while I let the loader go wherever its misaligned steering led us, leaving my hands free to fire the weapon.

The truck caught up to us again. Aadesh held the rifle close to his face, trying to line a shot up with the scope. He fired once and fell back into what I hoped was the bucket. I didn't see him fall to the ground and I didn't think he was shot, I just knew I didn't see him. The guy in the truck fired several shots, most of which looked to be in Aadesh's direction.

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