Alaskan Cold

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

Preston turned away from Topeka after a long look at the devastated city. He was leaving, finally. Leaning heavily on his cane, Preston watched people walk the streets below. Standing on the roof of a building that had the fortune to still be standing, he even felt superior to the poor souls below him

His hope was that the people in Anchorage, Alaska, wouldn't know who he was. When you spent five years in a place, any place, people got to know you, even if you tried not to let them. Of course, they had more than the people in Topeka had, these days. They may have all seen the video, for all he knew. The main reason people didn't live there any more was the cold, but Preston was geared for that. He had scrounged up some extra clothes, and been given some from his friend, Yannick, who was giving him a lift by helicopter to the USMC Air Station Miramar, where Yannick's plane was.

Preston turned around and walked over to his friend, led by Tyson. The two had to fly to southern California to the MCAS, switch all the luggage to Yannick's plane, then fly up to Anchorage. All Preston's things- his duffel, backpack, rifle, sleeping bag, and tent- were loaded, but he still had to get Tyson onto the helicopter. All the newer Cobras- newer being a relative term- had areas built in to them that could be used for dogs if they were going on the trip, or extra storage otherwise, so Preston put Tyson in and locked the door on him. "We'll be there soon," he assured the poor pup, then went up front to help Yannick fly the damned thing.

~~~

Two days later, Preston was living in a small but cozy house in Anchorage. Because there had been less bombing there, more houses and buildings still stood, and the ones that didn't, well, at least most of the rubble was gone. Yannick and Preston had pooled together what little they had in the way of money and bought the house. Fortunately, everything these days was pretty cheap, and barter usually worked, too. For that reason, Preston had also shot a huge deer and given that to the man they bought the house from.

Of course, there was no furniture.

Yannick stayed a single night, sleeping on the floor in the main room on the bottom floor of the house. The top floor only had two rooms, what appeared to have been a bedroom, and a bathroom. After that, he flew back, and Preston was on his own.

That first day, Preston packed up all his belongings and carried them on his back. he hadn't bothered to fix the locks on the doors at the house. His plan was to buy old-fashioned key locks. Even though they could be found many places, most people didn't bother with them anymore. As a result, very few people could pick a key lock. After that, Preston would feel safer leaving his things in the house. At least he didn't have to worry about windows- the house already had tinted, bullet-proof windows. He had tested them himself.

On the main street of Anchorage, with a black sweatshirt under his fatigues for warmth, Preston felt exposed. He wasn't used to having so few people around him, or to carrying all his things down the street. He couldn't hide in the crowds, so, for comfort, he held his M40A1 in one hand, cane in the other, and had Tyson trot beside him instead of using a leash.

Another thing he wasn't used to was stores. Most anchorage stores sold anything and everything they could find. A store that sold one type of product was very rare anywhere except Switzerland and South Africa these days.

The first store Preston found was perfect. He found a ton of different styles of key locks and door knobs, and bought five, giving up the last of his money and two strips of dried meat. He also got a lanyard for the keys. He thought he might still have a camouflage one from the corps, but he wasn't positive. He loaded the things into his backpack and was halfway home when he bumped into someone.

[MacKenzie Taylor]

MacKenzie walked along a path, leading towards a group of stores. Emma was held on her hip, tugging on MacKenzie's hair, mainly out of boredom. Hardly any toys were around these days, making it hard on not only Emma, but MacKenzie as well.

They were mainly going to the general store for hopefully some clothes, and some food for Emma. She was a picky eater, adding on more troubles for MacKenzie. How can you be picky when there was hardly anything to start out with? But Emma was only 3, after all.

They had set up camp about 20 minutes away, by foot. It was an old, run down barn, where her and 3 others stayed. The others seemed trustworthy, but then again, MacKenzie more or less trusted anybody. At least they have proved themselves so far, helping out wherever they can, providing a sense of safety. It was a nice arrangement.

Emma began tugging harder on MacKenzie's hair, her little fingers grabbing a fistful. MacKenzie turned her head, scolding her gently, and not paying attention to where she was going. When she felt a small impact, she quickly looked up, noticing she had bumped into some man. "Excuse me," she said quickly. At least this got Emma's hand out of her hair.

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

Preston put his hand behind the young girl quickly to make sure she didn't fall. Fortunately, he was careful enough not to smack either girl with the cane in his hand, or the rifle. Tyson sat down next to his owner's feet. "Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going..." Preston said. The little girl was cute. She looked around, maybe three or four. The women he had walked into was pretty, with blond hair and blue eyes.

"Sorry ma'am," Preston repeated, dropping his hand off the girl's back, having made sure that she wasn't going to fall. He almost shivered. The January air was getting to him already, even though he hadn't been outside for very long. Fortunately, his sweatshirt was thick and warm under his fatigues, and if he needed to, he could pull up the hood, lined with fake fur. Kansas was never this cold. Preston wanted to get back to his house, light a fire, warm up. But he didn't want to be rude and just walk away.

Tyson barked, so Preston looked up. The dog wasn't reacting to drugs, explosives, or anything else like that. Just a person walking by. Preston wasn't sure why it mattered to him, but since the dog looked away again, he guessed it meant nothing.

[MacKenzie Taylor]

MacKenzie stepped back a bit, muttering "Thanks" under her breath for him making sure she didn't fall. Emma wiggled, wanting to get down, but MacKenzie didn't quite trust the dog. Her eyes went from the child in her arms to the man. She hadn't expected to run into anyone. Hardly anyone ventured out, and most times MacKenzie went anywhere, it was just her and Emma. For which she was grateful. No such luck today, however.

She quickly shook her head. "It's ok. I wasn't either," she said, with a small smile, trying to be friendly. Well, not really trying. She was just naturally like that. But the smile was kind of forced. It was awkward for a moment, her not really knowing what to say. She never liked talking in the first place. It would just be kind of rude to just say bye and walk on. Upon hearing the dog bark, Emma wiggled some more, reaching her hands downward, but MacKenzie tightened her grip.

Balancing Emma on her left hip, and holding out her right hand, she introduced herself, still all but forcing a smile. "I'm MacKenzie. And this is Emma," she said, nodding her head towards her left for emphasis.

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

"Hey Emma," Preston said softly, slinging his gun over his shoulder and tickling the girl under the chin. The little girl reached for Tyson, but Mackenzie held her back. "He's safe," Preston said assuredly. "He was a drug dog for the Corps. United States Marine Corps, I mean. He's only dangerous if there's drugs involved, and even if that's the case, I have to tell him to attack. And I only do that if I'm after some drug smuggler, not to a cute little girl."

Yeah, he was probably just making it worse. Ah well, too late to take back what he had already said. "My name is... Preston." He'd given up- officially- hiding from who he was and pretending to be someone else, even though the reason he had originally moved to Alaska was to pretend he was someone else. "And my dog is Tyson." Preston shifted his weight to his other leg, keeping his weight off of his bad leg. "Say, um, do you need any help with food?" Preston knew that some people had trouble finding food, and instinctively Preston wanted to help this women and her young girl. "I have extra food." He pulled out a pouch of dried meat and held it out to the girl.

[MacKenzie Taylor]

MacKenzie listened to him ramble on about the dog. Didn't sound too safe. But the dog looked friendly enough. She tentatively let Emma down, but held on to one of her hands. The girl immediately went to the dog, reaching out with a hand to pet his head, in that childish courage. That belief that nothing would hurt them. Wouldn't it be nice for everyone to have that same feeling?

"Nice to meet you, Preston," she said, in that soft voice of hers. She was all about etiquette, even nowadays. The same sounded familiar, but she couldn't place where. Besides, it was a common enough name. Certainly not the most unique.

"Oh, no. It's ok. We have..." she trailed off, then noticed Emma take the food, and dug her hand in the pouch, taking a piece of dried meat and eating it. She normally didn't like people helping her, because one, most of the time she couldn't repay them back. And two, she didn't like being a bothersome, and even the simplest things made MacKenzie feel bad. And certainly now, when people hardly had any food to begin with. However, if Emma ate it, she couldn't let her silly feelings and pride get in the way of her hunger. "Thank you," she said, smiling, this time not as forced. "It's very much appreciated."

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

Tyson licked the girl's hand eagerly, then tried to lick her face, but Preston stepping on the dog's leash, forcing him to sit back. "What has gotten into you, boy?" he asked. Normally, Tyson never acted like that, except with Preston. Maybe it was just the young girl, then.

Preston knelt down carefully, minding his knee and the leash. Then he closed the girl's small fingers around the pouch. "Don't drop it," he warned her. There was about five strips of meat in it. The rest was in his backpack, with his water. Then, he slid the loop on Tyson's leash over his left wrist and lay his cane on the ground so he could grab his rifle off his back. He held it up to the woman to show her. "I'm a Gunnery Sergeant in the United States Marine Corps. A sniper. If you ever need food, come to me, I've got it. No charge."

He slung the gun back over his shoulder and readjusted the straps of his backpack. Then he grabbed his cane again in his right hand and struggled to his feet, leaning heavily on it. "If you need anything, food or not, I'll probably be in the woods or my house, over that way." He pointed with his cane down a street to his right, her left. "Somewhere over there. I'm new," he admitted with a sheepish grin.

[MacKenzie Taylor]

MacKenzie kept her eye on the dog and Emma, a bit leery. When the dog- well, Tyson- moved in to lick her face, MacKenzie reached her hand out to pull Emma back, just a reflex reaction. Seeing Preston step on the leash, her hand stopped midway in the air, then she pulled it back towards her side. Emma just giggled, not seeing to mind at all. She knew she was very overprotective, and maybe a bit too much. Oh well. She really couldn't help it. She couldn't stand to lose that little girl.

She reached down, gently prying the bag away from Emma. "I'd better take it. Knowing her, she'll get distracted by something and leave it on the ground somewhere," she said, with a small smile. She tucked the small pouch in her heavy coat's pocket, on the inside.

Her eyes rested on his cane, and naturally she was curious. But it would be way too rude to ask. Then her eyes drifted to his gun. "Oh," she murmured. "Thank you, again." You could never say that phrase too many times, she thought. "Where did you come from?" she asked. "What place, I mean."

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

"Yeah, kids have a tendency to do that kind of thing," Preston agreed. Then he saw her eyes rest on his cane, but she didn't ask. "I don't mind," he continued. It's being curious to ask, not rude." He knew exactly what she was thinking. He could just tell. "I was fighting in France, and a German soldier snuck up behind my sniper's nest and lobbed a grenade in. I was pretty quick- I noticed because he hit me in the back with it. I scrambled out, but my leg was loaded with shrapnel, and I had to go back to war almost immediately. My leg never healed, so I have to use a cane now."

Tyson panted heavily, looking around them. Then he looked back at the girl and licked her hand again. "I'm from Topeka. Well, I lived in Topeka last, at least. I've lived here, in Alaska, in Virginia at the Quantico Marine Base, in California at the Marine Corps Air Station Miramar. And I've lived in Florida and the District of Columbia, too." He didn't feel the need to add that his dad was the president who had ruined the world.

[MacKenzie Taylor]

MacKenzie smiled. "But sometimes its rude to be curious," she stated, never being a fan of prying too deeply in other people's personal lives. She grimaced as he explained what happened to him. "That's horrible," she said softly. She hated the war- any kind of war. All the injuries and casualties. It was pointless, really, when you think about it. Right now, it didn't matter who won. The countries seeking revenge just hurt themselves in the long run.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Emma continuing to pet Tyson. MacKenzie could hear her little exclaims of 'good doggie.' It wasn't expected, as Emma never talked around strangers. But the girl had never seen a real dog before, so obviously the girl was highly fascinated.

MacKenzie's focused her attention on what Preston was saying next. She raised an eyebrow at all the places. "That's a lot of different homes. Why did you move so much?" It seemed like a vague enough question. But if really think about it, it could lead to something personal. "If you don't my asking," she added on as an afterthought. A breeze flew by, so MacKenzie folded her arms tightly against her chest for extra warmth against the cold.

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

Preston smiled softly at the young girl. He could guess that she hadn't seen many dogs before, if any. These days, a lot of people didn't see them. Most of them were German Shepards, the common drug dog, or something else large. In Alaska, maybe some huskies.

He shrugged. "I've gotten used to it. It still hurts, though, especially when I've been up on it all day." Then she asked why he had lived in so many different places. "Well, I was born in Alaska and I lived here for a while, but my family moved to Florida when I was ten. My brother, Ian, was four at the time. It was a big difference, but we got used to it. Then, after I joined the Marine Corps, when I was eighteen, I lived at Quantico, the Marine Base in Virginia. And I stayed in the nation's capital whenever I took leave, because that's where my parents were living at the time. I stayed there for a while, watching my mom slowly die of cancer, too. I was there the day of the assassination, too." He didn't feel the need to add why. Then he noticed MacKenzie shiver, and pulled off his jacket, then his sweatshirt, so he was only wearing a tee shirt. He held the black sweatshirt, the warmer of the two, out to her and put his jacket back on.

[MacKenzie Taylor]

MacKenzie nodded her head while he talked, so it wouldn't appear she wasn't listening. She couldn't imagine moving so much. Having moved once herself, she knew it was hectic. And she only had moved once, not many times like himself. Well, twice, if you count moving into a barn. But she didn't feel like that counted much.

Emma, growing tired, went back over to her mother, wrapping her arms around MacKenzie's legs. She unfolded her arms to rest one hand on the little girl's shoulder. When Preston offered his sweatshirt, she quickly shook her head. "Oh, its ok. I've grown used to the cold," she said quickly, dismissing the offer politely with a wave of her hand. She didn't like being an inconvenience. A tee shirt and a jacket wouldn't keep him warm, after all.

"I'm sorry about your mother," she said, changing the subject back to him. She knew that must of been terrible. She didn't mention anything about the assassination. It wasn't like she wanted the man dead, but where would they be if he wasn't? She felt like no man's death is truly justified. But that didn't go over well with many people. So she just left that subject alone.

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

Preston shrugged and folded the sweatshirt over his arm. At the moment, he realized, he didn't really need it. He could insist, but she would probably refuse again. He could put it back on, but he didn't need to. Or he could shove it in one of his bags, but that would require, with all the things he had with him, kneeling down again. And that wasn't going to happen.

"I wasn't a huge fan of either of my parents, really. Dad was an bas- well, you know what I mean." Preston didn't want to say 'bastard' with the little girl, Emma, right there, no matter if she would remember it or not. "My mom wasn't a very pleasant lady, either. She loved my brother- so did my dad, everyone did- but she though I was horribly lazy and hated me for it. And hey, I was kind of lazy and I did slack off, but that's not a good reason, in my eyes, to hate a child. She was happier when I joined the Marine Corps, though, because she thought I was finally doing something right in my life. I was tempted to slap her, sometimes."

[MacKenzie Taylor]

MacKenzie felt a tugging on the hem of her shirt, and she looked down, seeing Emma trying to climb up into her arms. She bent down to pick her up, but she was still listening to what Preston was saying. She smiled a little when he stopped from cussing, grateful. MacKenzie was big on morals, and wanted to instill the same values in Emma. However hard that may be.

"You're right. It isn't a reason to hate a child. But I really can't see her hating you. Not like I know her or anything," she stuttered out, "but maybe she just thought you could do better or something." She bit her bottom lip, thinking that could be taken the wrong way. "Parents do crazy things sometimes," she amended. She should know, with her own mother. But no one was perfect, and she certainly didn't hold a grudge against her own mom for her imperfections.

MacKenzie shifted, balancing Emma on her hip once again. "Why did you decide to join the Marine Corps?" That seemed like a better topic to talk about than parents, seeing as it wasn't the most happiest subject.

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

Preston shrugged. "I got decent grades, just not honor roll. One or two C's every quarter, but never a D or an F. Ian was on the honor roll every quarter at every school we ever went to. Not best in the class, but da- really close. My parents never cared about how athletic I was, or at least, they didn't care as much as they cared about grades. It kind of annoyed me, because I was a sports guy more than anything else."

Then she asked about the Marine Corps, and why he joined. "Uh, well, I guess I had always wanted to be in the military. You know, American pride and all that. I felt, too, like I owed the people who had already fought for the country in the past and all. But that's all I can really say. I guess that I always wanted to fight, too. Maybe that's not all I can say after all." Preston grinned. "When I was little, I wanted to play airsoft and paintball a lot. I liked even simple squirt guns. The fascinated me. I'm really not sure why, but I liked them. And camouflage was always cool, to me. I have no idea, there was just a bunch of things that made me want to fight."