Bitter Cold (10 page)

“Carrie?” he spun around, praying he’d find her alive. Then he’d hurry her to the hospital. She’d be fine. Most likely she’d have to use a wheelchair. Maybe they’d be able to fit her with prosthetics. He didn’t care. Finding her alive, keeping her alive. That dominated his mind.

Then he found her.

“Carrie!”

She leaned against the tree, sitting on a large branch ten feet up, chest heaving, head rolling. As she faced him, she opened her eyes. Then the snow near the upper limbs turned dark, spreading, infecting the pristine white with a deep, desolate blackness. It surrounded Carrie instantly, covering what remained of her decimated body up to her face. Her lips parted as she struggled to speak. He saw her silently mouth his name. Then the blackness enveloped her.

“NO!” he clawed the bark, feeling a desperate ache like never before. In his struggle to climb the tree, he shook something loose. A burnt mass hit his shoulder, sizzling as it made contact with his skin. He cringed away and it landed with a deadened
Thud!
When he looked at it, his stomach tied into a knot, then convulsed, forcing its contents into his throat.
No way
, he thought.
No way
. He wanted to run. He had to get the hell out of there. But, Carrie. What about Carrie?

With his foot, he nudged over the fleshy lump. His bowels shriveled as it rocked back and forth and he saw something shiny and metallic.

A Gold earring. Carrie’s earring—and half of her ear!

Head spinning, he felt his guts explode. Uncontrollable bursts shot from his throat. Hot, stinging, leaving his teeth gritty and bitter.

For a second, he felt like giving up. Why go on with Carrie dead? Why continue? Then he thought about his children. They needed their father. So he decided to run. The only thing left to do. Carrie would have wanted him to fight for his own survival, just as he’d fought for hers. For the kids.

He turned and nearly tripped over his own toes. Dizzy, disoriented, he stumbled to get his feet under him. Then, in front of his eyes, the snow clinging to an evergreen limb turned black, flowing fast, falling in bubbling bursts. The shadowy avalanche spread downward, widening while lengthening, displaying its full mass. When it finished, it covered the entire tree, spanning every spot previously filled by whiteness. It overtook the snow, taking its shape, only making it darker than the darkest corner of the coldest, furthest part of the universe.         

A clump of black snow hit his arm, scorching his bare skin with instant shock of unbearable heat. He cried out as the thing spread to his chest, the pain increasing exponentially. He felt the creeping lethargy of unconsciousness. Awareness set in. He had to get the hell out of there. Crouching, he crashed through a thick berm. The burning in his arm subsided as it hit the natural icepack, numbing the pain. Then his elation evaporated when the monster snatched him. He felt it plain as day, a quick clamp around his ankle.

He screamed again, grasping at the snowy ground, his ankles searing. He felt flesh slipping from muscle, still he pulled, yanked, kicked, fought with all his strength. No way would he become a frozen dinner for this thing. Yet the thing begged to differ, painful proof nightmares did come true.

Doug heard the dog’s collar, heard her whining. He didn’t have time to look. The dark entity fastened onto his legs so tight it felt they were about to snap. Overhead, in the tree, it sounded like a gigantic mouth opening, the gaping jaws of some hellish beast. He glanced up. The evergreen limb directly over him dripped with darkness. The tree looked evil, every inch pure black. A winter wonderland in hell. Sadie must have seen the creature. She let loose a raging outburst, barking and snarling. Doug widened his eyes as the dark being poised for the attack. Then it came. A large cluster broke free from the upper branches and tumbled onto him. Covering his head, he froze and burned at the same time. For one brief moment, he saw his wife, her hair floating about her face. She turned to him and smiled. By her side, holding her hand, was Eddy. He smiled, too, extending his tiny palm, fingers wide.

FIFTEEN

A frigid blast hit April’s face, a feeling she’d never get used to. She scanned desolate Highway 30. Snow had already covered most of the tire tracks, shrouding almost all evidence of the vicious vehicular attack.

Her heart sank when Officer Jenkins, after surveying the area, shook his head and gave her the same disbelieving demeanor he’d presented earlier.

“I don’t see anything out of the ordinary, Miss,” he swept his flashlight along the roadside. The red and blue emergency lights on top of his 4X4 cast his features in silhouette. Jeff had an electric camping lantern extended in front of him.

April toed the snow on the shoulder of the northbound lane. She twisted her ankle a little in a deep, distinct rut. “Over here!” she rubbed the top of her foot. “Here, look at this!”

Jeff and Jenkins directed their lights to the ground simultaneously. Though rounded and smoothed by over an hour of wintry accumulation, clearly defined tire prints, a maze of them, cut deep and led to the ditch.

“What?” Jenkins shrugged. “Looks like a couple of tracks to me. Could’ve been a plow for all I know.”

“Look at them,” she pointed. “This is it. This is where it happened, come on,” she hurried to the guardrail.

“Doesn’t look too awful bad to me,” the cop panned his light. “Are you sure this is the place?”

She searched up and down the road. “The turnoff to Trojan is right there,” she said. “So, yes. Right here.”

At the railing, she pointed into the misty grey, squinting, able to make out only indistinct shapes.

Jenkins stood at the road’s edge, pointing his flashlight beam down the hillside, illuminating the rapid torrent of falling white flakes. “All I see is a stump. You wanna tell me what’s going on? Why are you two wasting the department’s time?”

“How can you call a murder attempt a waste of time?” she squinted in the glare. “You guys in this county don’t care about the law?”

Jenkins chuckled. “That’s a pretty outrageous claim, Miss. Charges like that have to be backed up with proof. Where’s your proof?”

“What do you mean, where’s my proof,” she gestured for him to look down again. “Don’t you see it? My car’s down there. It has to be. You have to be able to see it.”

“Lady, I’m not risking my life climbing down there just to confirm what I already suspect is true.”

“Just look. My car didn’t roll far. It should be right there. Please, look!”

“All right! All right,” Jenkins held up his hand. “Relax. Jeff, could you get her to calm down?”

Jeff touched her shoulder. She coiled away.

“It’s okay, April,” his face softened. “We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

She shuddered. Her numb fingers barely managed to find the pockets in her coat. The mucus running from her nose to her upper lip had crystalized and began to chip off. But the shivering. It was out of control. Still, she had to provide solid evidence to back up her story, and the only proof she had was her wrecked Neon. However, she knew that monster could have been lurking somewhere near, silently waiting to pounce.

Jenkins sighed. “Here goes,” he stepped over the railing.

“Wait!” she stopped him. “I can’t let you do it!”

He gave her a suspicious look. “Now what is it? Are you changing your story again? You know, I think I’m getting the picture of what’s going on here.”

“Nothing’s going on, officer, really,” she looked at him, at Jeff, then back to Jenkins. “I just-I don’t think it’s safe.”

The cop laughed. “Shit! Really? You think?”

“Jeff,” April lowered her voice. “It’s that creature. I saw it come up here earlier. It might still be there.”

Jeff’s eyes widened. “Really? All the way up here?” he took a step back, shielding his boy with his body. “Officer Jenkins. I think you probably shouldn’t be doing that.”

Jenkins cast his suspicious eye on Jeff. “You, too, huh? What are you guys up to, anyway?”

Logan pushed his father’s waist. He carried a bulky, five million candlepower blowtorch of a flashlight. It took him two hands to hold it. “Come on, Dad. Let me see!”

“No,” Jeff was stern. “You get back to the truck. We all should just get outta here. Never should’ve come out here in the first place.

“Okay,” Jenkins smiled. “You got me. What’s up?”

April became cross with the officer. “We’re not trying to screw with you! This is no bullshit! You’ve got to believe us!”

“Come on, Jeff,” Jenkins gave him a pat on the back. “I mean, really, a monster turning the snow black and sliming around eating people?” he fixed on April. “And your story about some NWP guys running you off the road and shooting at you, and-and then being attacked and eaten—that’s good. Not the best I’ve heard, but good,” he winked and smiled at nobody in particular. “Hey, check this out. You’ll love this. One night a guy came in, swearing he saw a UFO. He had video and witnesses and everything. Turned out to be a bunch of drunks at a family reunion with some clay pigeons and a whole lotta time on their hands.”

“Tommy!” Jeff shook his shoulders. “Listen to me! We’re not fucking with you! The creature is real,” he motioned to April. “We both saw it. To hell with your drunk UFO guy—we saw something real. We haven’t been drinking, and we aren’t playing some cheap prank!”

Jenkins turned serious. “Jeff, for your sake, this better not be a joke. Because if it
is
, I’m gonna have to haul both of your asses in for issuing false statements, wasting government resources, and endangering a minor. And that’s just for starters. I’m sure I can find some more charges back at the station.”

“False statements?” April pointed at the tangled pattern of tire tracks. “This is clear proof right here. Look at it,” she traced the path to the roadside. “You can see exactly what happened here. The tracks tell the whole story. Here’s where they ran me off the road. My car flipped over the embankment into the ravine. Down there.”

“Yeah, but there’s a little problem with your story,” Jenkins gestured. “There’s no car. No half-eaten dead guy, and, by the way, no monster, either.”

April shook her head. “That can’t be. There’s gotta be some kind of sign,” she mustered the courage to bring herself to the extreme edge where the steep slope led to her nightmares. She hated that place, yet she had to be strong. Logan gave her his flashlight and she flooded the hillside, all the way to the bottom. It gave her chills, the desolation. In some places, where the rocky terrain dominated, it seemed like an icy planet far from the sun. Scraggly, leafless monstrosities contorted and strained under their wintery burdens. If it weren’t for the evergreens peppering the landscape, it would have resembled a snow covered graveyard, the stumps and boulders doubling as headstones.

Despite what she saw, what she didn’t see bothered her even more. Her Neon. It had vanished. She backed up and shined the light along the highway. Everything told her this had to be the place. Most convincing in her mind were the tire ruts. Deep, chaotic. They told the tale of a violent encounter, even if the cop didn’t want to admit it.

“But it was down there. This is the place, I know it. It was right here. The tire tracks. The dent in the embankment…”

Jenkins smacked his lips. “Those tracks could have been made by anyone. It’s icy out. People get stupid and don’t realize how little it takes to start sliding. Happens all the time,” he patted the compact white stuff with his foot.

“I didn’t slide, I was pushed. By a truck that came from right there,” she pointed to the Trojan entrance not more than a hundred yards away.

Jenkins began to speak, then stopped at the sound of a low rumble funneling through the vacant highway. Then headlights hit the white pavement, coming from Trojan.

“Who the hell’s leaving there this time of night?” the cop squared his body toward the road.

As the lights got brighter and brighter, Jenkins rested one hand on the butt of his sidearm. With the other, he held his flashlight straight ahead, cutting through the darkness. The truck maneuvered with caution, pulling to a stop when it got to the intersection with the main road.

April squinted through the falling flakes at the big old pickup. An amber streetlight high atop a crooked pole provided enough illumination to see a large crane on the back, dangling chains, and solid metal bars where a bed should have been.

“Well, what the hell do you know?” Jenkins sounded astonished.

“A tow truck,” April felt her stomach turn at the sight of the damned thing. “Ten to one the guy driving it knows something.”

Jenkins stiffened his jaw and looked at her. He said nothing. The truck hesitated, then pulled onto the highway, heading toward them. As it got closer, April saw orange flames painted on its hood. Jenkins remained wordless, watching.

“You know I’m right,” April said. “All you have to do is talk to the guy. Ask him, before he gets away!”

Jenkins looked at Jeff, at the truck, then at April again, shaking his head.

“Dammit!” he bolted to the center of the road, waving his hands and shouting. “Stop!”

The truck driver let off the accelerator, allowing his vehicle to coast before hitting the brakes. He stopped inches from the cop’s chest. Jenkins didn’t move. April could tell he’d had one of those moments. She’d had a couple, too, just a little while earlier when McCullah pointed his gun at her, and then again with the monster digesting him right in front of her. Face-to-face with oblivion. Eye-to-eye with death. It had a way of clearing the mind of all of life’s petty bullshit.

The tow truck’s emergency lights competed with the red and blues on the police 4X4, making Jenkins look like a deranged circus clown. Surrounded by a sea of white, the effect was even more frightening, the way he contrasted against the pale background.

April hurried closer while Jenkins made it to the driver’s door, holding his hand up as if to say, ‘stay put.’ Along the side of the truck she read,
“Grampy’s Towing,”
and an image popped in her head of an old, crusty man with black grease embedded in the creases of his hands and under his fingernails, oily gray hair, and a toothless grin.

The door opened. Two dirty, black leather boots stepped onto the frigid ground. Instead of an ancient grease-hound wearing them, though, it was a young man. Somewhere in his mid-twenties, he had dark hair, almost black, and a piercing through his nose. He looked tall, at least six foot three. Would have been taller if he didn’t slouch so much. His bad posture made him look skinnier as well, though he seemed pretty slim. Skin and bones, more like.

“I’m sorry, dude,” he explained. “I didn’t see you standing there until, like, the last minute. Dude, I could have killed you. Are you okay?”

“Cut the shit,
dude
,” April took the laid-back young man by surprise. His eyes widened and he reared away from her. “What the fuck were you just up to?”

“Hold on,” Jenkins held up his hand, signaling for her to shut up. “I’ll do the questioning, if you don’t mind,” he turned to the tow truck driver and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Mind if I see your license and registration? Proof of insurance, too.”

The kid opened the passenger door, leaned in, and searched the cab for the appropriate documents. After gathering them up, he slid back out of the truck and handed them to the officer.

Jenkins read the license. “Robert Worthington?”

“Bobby.”

“Bobby, we have a little problem. This lady says she was run off the road right there, just over the embankment. But her car’s not there. Now, I can’t help but notice you’re driving a tow truck, the very type of thing that could pull her vehicle out of the ditch. So, you’ve got to understand why I might be a little curious. I guess what I’m asking is, do you know anything about a red Dodge Neon over the edge, right down there?” he pointed.

Bobby pointed, too. “Right over there?”

“Yes,” Jenkins nodded. “Right there.”

“You mean some kind of accident?”

“That’s still under investigation. Do you know anything about it or not?”

“No,” his eyes shot from one person to the next as if he needed to convince each of them individually.

“Are you sure?” Jenkins asked.

“He’s lying. I know he is,” April got in his face. “What were you doing at Trojan? Huh? Out on a joyride in three feet of snow?”

Bobby stared at the ground. “I was just roaming, you know, looking for possible jobs. This highway’s full of them when the weather gets like this. The boss pays a little extra for inclement weather runs, so here I am.”

Jenkins lifted his chin, his breath loitered in the steam. “Then you must have had some business tonight. Seen any action?”

“Actually, no.”

“No? None at all? I find that hard to believe.”

“You’re tellin’ me. It’s been slow as hell, man. Tell you the truth, I kinda wish there
was
a car over the side of the road. That would earn me one hell of a commission,” he laughed. It didn’t convince April. It didn’t seem to fool the cop, either.

“Let’s just cut to the chase, okay?” he put his arm around the truck driver. Bobby looked at the cop’s hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to ask you this not because I necessarily believe April, here, but I have to ask. Just for the sole reason that there
are
tire tracks that appear to be leading to the side of the road where she’s indicated the alleged incident occurred. I have to ask you, did you have anything to do with the removal and or recovery of the previously mentioned Neon?”