Bitter Cold (8 page)

Armstrong stepped back. His foot dragged and he fell to the wintry forest floor.

The creature seemed to stop chewing and churning. Several slender offshoots from its shapeless mass moved toward Armstrong as he sat on his ass. He squinted, noticing the shadowy appendages.

“What is that!” he kicked backward, attempting to keep ahead of the things probing in his direction. “What the hell is it!”

At the sound of his voice, the monster decided to commit its whole bulk to chasing Armstrong. The creature moved swiftly, rolling over small, snowy humps and rocky protrusions, gliding like a spectral pool of water rolling downhill. Only it rolled up, pursuing the man as he climbed, hand over hand, in the deep powder.

“NO!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. A shriek from hell. “Get it away from me! Get it away!”

THIRTEEN

JEFF RAPPED ON THE HEAVY redwood door,
The Mitchells
carved in fancy calligraphy, along with a forest setting complete with mountains, rows of evergreens, and the obligatory bull elk bugling to the wilderness.

“They’re not home,” Logan rolled his eyes. “Now can we go?”

“Stop it,” he snapped. “I’m getting the word out, no matter what.”

“It’s freaking cold!”

“Shhh!” Jeff put his head to the door. “I thought I heard something.”

He listened. Faint creaking. Floorboards shifting. He narrowed his eyes and focused all his senses on finding the source of the sound, but it died away.

He knocked again, so hard the door shook, not a small feat given its size and solid construction. For good measure, he pressed the lighted button, though he didn’t hear a doorbell.

Logan yawned. “I told you. Nobody’s home.”

“Yes they are,” Jeff grew more annoyed. “Smoke’s coming from the chimney, look,” he pointed to the roof. “That means they’re here. Doug Mitchell never has a fire burning unless he’s here.”

“Their car’s gone,” Logan gestured to the driveway. A fresh set of tracks cut up and out to the road.

“That doesn’t mean anything. Somebody’s home. I know it. But I don’t know why the hell nobody’s answering. It’s making me nervous.”

“Why, Dad? What are you so freaked out for?”

He peered through the narrow window next to the door. “Logan, I’m not kidding around. I saw something out there. Something scary as hell. April saw it, and you can bet your ass Dexter saw it, too. Damned thing took his foot off. Whether you want to believe it or not, I’m going down this whole damned street and I’m warning everybody to keep their kids the hell away from that place or—”

A quick scream stopped him. His mind flashed with images of darkness and death. The smell of Dexter’s burning flesh lingered in his nostrils, reminding him of the menacing predator in the ice.

“Did you hear that?” he traversed the wraparound deck, peering down the large house’s east side.

“Hear what?”

“Shhh!”

He turned his ear toward the backyard, letting his sight dart about the covered area. Searching the wicker rockers and the empty flower planters, his thoughts went back to the black snow. He couldn’t help it. He just had a feeling. That thing might have gotten out of the canyon. He shivered, thousands of pinpricks streaming down his spine.

Then he heard another shriek. Logan’s eyes widened, his mouth stretching with surprise.

Jeff bolted alongside the house toward the back porch, wondering what scene of carnage he’d come upon.

As he approached the back patio, he saw light penetrating the fog, reflecting off the snowflakes. His feet slipped on the icy wood surface where the winter storm infiltrated below the awning. Logan stayed just behind, his labored breath signaling his presence. Jeff felt energized. His heart wanted to jump out of his chest when he heard more screaming, agonized wails of a woman in distress. It sent him into an even deeper frenzy.

It had to be Carrie Mitchell, Doug’s wife. Hairdresser. Mother of four. Her screams reverberated throughout the small valley, winding along the ten-acre property. Jeff imagined her trapped by the monster, bathed in blackness. He pictured her slipping in the snow and the dark substance surrounding her, eating away at her fur-lined jacket, dissolving her exposed hands and face.

Brightness blinded him momentarily, shrouding the shapes, obscured by a thick layer of fog. The Mitchell’s weren’t millionaires, but like most on the street, they could afford luxuries like a large back deck with a pergola adorned in wine grapes, and a hot tub that could fit just about every adult on the road.

Jeff shielded his eyes. With his other hand, he felt for his son, realizing it might not have been a great idea to lead Logan directly into the creature’s jaws. Yet some other instinct took hold, a reaction he couldn’t resist, similar to the response triggered when one hears a person drowning and calling for help. Jeff would always be the first one into the water.

He took Logan’s hand, dragging the boy in his haste. He justified bringing Logan back there, to where the black maw of death might very well have been attacking someone at that very moment, by reasoning his son could help when the time came.

He stopped dead in his snowy tracks.

“Hey!” Logan ran into him, forcing him a step forward.

“Quiet.”

Splashing water.

He remembered the way the black snow flowed toward Dexter like a stream. He’d heard the same kind of noise then, a watery, sloshing sound.

As his vision adjusted, he recognized a hot tub gazebo. One of those fancy cedar numbers with tinted windows and room for a sitting area. The spa was lit up like the Vegas strip, strings of white Christmas lights wrapped along the sides, then tracing the roof.

The same image kept flashing through his head. He’d arrived too late. If he’d only gotten there to warn them sooner. If he’d only heard Carrie’s cries for help earlier.

He shook the thought away, approaching the spa while still clutching Logan’s wrist. Through the gazebo’s darkened windows, he noticed someone had been in the hot tub, though it didn’t seem anyone was in there at the moment. He got close, pressed his hands, and peered in.

“Nobody’s in there,” Jeff craned his neck, searching the corners to make sure. Nothing. “What happened to them?”

He flashed his son a look and showed him an open palm as if to say, ‘stay put,’ while rounding the gazebo to the entrance. Inside, he found what he’d expected. The hot tub looked like it had just been used—jets running, Etta James on the speakers crooning, ‘
At Last.’
Burning candles encircled the rim of the tub, some floating in the turbulent foam, some burnt out or ready to at any moment.

Jeff shivered. The clues spoke volumes. A scene of struggle. No way would the Mitchells leave their precious spa in such shambles.

Another shriek made Jeff’s ears ring. He knew the responsible thing was to deliver his son from harm at all costs, but another human being’s life hung on the line. He couldn’t leave her like that. It sounded like she was going to die.

She screamed again, and this time sounded closer. Jeff saw a naked woman run past and his eyes felt like they’d bulged from their sockets. At first he thought she was fleeing from the creature. It must have caught her and tore her clothes off in the process. Then he saw more movement from the darkness and flinched, pulling Logan with him. Another nude figure came up the stairs, pushing through the mist, hurrying to the spa behind the woman. It took him a second to recognize the Mitchells, out for a kinky run in the snow.

“What the hell!” Carrie slipped and caught herself on the edge of her turquoise hot tub. Her bouncing breasts and exposed buttocks made Jeff’s face flush. He heard Logan let out a gasp followed by a quick snicker. Jeff covered his son’s eyes.

He turned as she hurried into the steaming water. Her husband, Doug, bounded behind her, shriveled penis and balls dangling in the frigid air, a mixture of surprise and annoyance plastered on his face.

“Who the hell?” he squinted. With the light behind him, Doug was mostly a silhouette, though Jeff could make out his angry expression. “Keller? Jeff Keller? That you?”

Jeff waved and flashed a meek smile.

“What the hell are you doing back here, Jeff?” Carrie sank to her chin. “Haven’t you heard of knocking?”

Jeff let Logan go. “We
did
knock. Hard. Rang the doorbell, too. You guys must have your music too loud or something.”

Doug wrapped a towel around his waist and picked up a small remote control. He pointed it toward the Bose stereo in the corner, muting Etta James’ sultry voice. “Most people might have taken the music for a hint.”

“I know, I know,” Jeff glanced at his neighbor, then scanned the yard, paying close attention to a particularly shadowy area alongside the garden shed where Doug kept his John Deer. “It’s just that…”

“What?” Carrie tapped her red painted fingernails on the acrylic hot tub shell. “Why are you guys here? What could possibly bring you two out, sneaking and spying on your neighbors in the middle of a snowstorm?”

“Oh, brother,” Logan slapped his forehead. “Thanks, Dad. Now the whole street’s gonna think we’re some kinda peeping toms or something.”

Jeff let out a nervous chuckle. “No, it’s not like that at all. We just came here, I mean we’re just going to all the houses on the street because…” he noticed something moving next to the shed. A dark shape huddled against the wind. It seemed to realize it had been spotted and froze.

Doug turned. “Whatcha looking for down there, Jeff? You see something?”

“Um, I…” he stammered. “I think I…” the object lunged, arched into the air, and landed in the dimly-lit area between the shed and a small grove of evergreens. Rivers of electric pinpricks coursed through his veins. His palms began to sweat. He tried to run to the deck railing and get a better look, but slipped. Regaining his balance, he reached the edge and peered down. His stomach dropped to his bowels when he saw the dark shape slink for cover under the thick, snow-laden bow of a pine tree.

“There it is!” he waved frantically. “We gotta get outta here!”

“What the hell?” Doug tiptoed to the railing.

Jeff pulled the shivering man away. “It’s coming! We gotta go–NOW!”

Eyes wide, Carrie splashed to the other side of the tub, the sloshing water snuffing out several candles and making her eyeliner run. “Oh Shit! What is it, honey! A bear? Is it a bear?”

Doug craned his neck to get a look behind Jeff. “I don’t know, honey. Jeff! What the hell’s going on!”

“It’s some kind of creature—a monster!” Jeff kept pulling. “In the snow! And it’s coming! Please, you gotta listen! You gotta believe me!” he shot his stare to his son. “Logan, GO!”

Logan screamed something incoherent. He took a giant step and lost traction, one leg sliding left, the other to the right, resulting in scissor-splits. He groaned and fell to his side, holding his groin.

Carrie climbed out of the hot tub before slipping on the smooth outer ledge. She yelped and stumbled back into the water, flailing, trying to get out again.

Doug, the only calm one, tapped Jeff on the shoulder and cleared his throat. “Is this the monster you were talking about?” he pointed.

Jeff had no time to play. “Just go, Doug! I’ll explain later!”

“Dad,” Logan sounded annoyed. “Look.”

Jeff didn’t see what he’d expected. Instead of an evil darkness at the top of the stairs, it was Sadie, the Mitchell family German Shepard, jowl wide open, tongue hanging, tail wagging.

Doug erupted, filling his little apple grove with laughter. “That’s what you’re so goddamned freaked out about, Keller? A dog? Man, you need to lay off the pot!”

Sadie hustled to her master, whining softly. He bent to stroke her lustrous, black and beige fur, running his hand twice down her back.

“Not now, girl,” he pointed at the house. “Go inside, Sadie. Go on, get in the house.”

Sadie lowered her head and sulked to a pet door which looked like it went to the pantry.

“I don’t believe it,” Jeff eyed the stairs. “I saw something else. It wasn’t a dog. It was—”

“Come on, Dad,” Logan took his hand. “Let’s go home, okay?”

“No!” he shook his head. “No, something’s out there. I know it is.”

Doug laughed again. Carrie joined him.

“It’s not funny!” Jeff shot a scowl at them, then returned his attention to the snowdrifts below. Boards creaked under his feet. His eyes flashed to the deck, to the snow around his boots. Was it under the wood planks?

“Dad,” Logan tugged his arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“What’s gotten into you, Jeff?” Carrie leaned her arms over the edge of the hot tub. “Amy said you kicked her and the other kids out of the canyon. Is that true?”

He stood silent, watching the shadows shift and reshape in an intermittent breeze along the tree line.

Carrie ignored the fact that Jeff ignored her. “She says you claim there’s some kind of a-a monster down there. What’s this all about, Jeff?”

Doug snickered yet again. “Good one, man. Good one. I know what you were doing. You wanted to get rid of those kids so you could have the hill all to yourself. I get it. Hey, I can understand. I mean, she’s my own daughter and even I want to get rid of her sometimes.”

Carrie bristled. “Douglas Mitchell!”

He shrugged, climbing up the steps to get into the spa. “It’s that boyfriend of hers,” he unwrapped his towel and eased into the hot water.

Jeff didn’t dwell too long on his neighbors and their strange nocturnal activities. He still had a suspicion something might have been sneaking up on them. His skin crawled at the thought. Out there, somewhere, that creature was waiting. He felt its stare, remembering the sensation he had when it came so close to him he could touch it, when it had Dexter’s leg in its jaws. He got that same feeling now, a deep dread, a cold hand running down his back. Something just didn’t feel right.

He walked to the railing, brushed off the snow, and studied the ground, paying close attention to the shadows. He asked the Mitchells, “What were you two doing down there?”