The Winter People (23 page)

Sarah
stood in the doorway of "The Mineshaft Lodge", Copper Creek's only
lodgings, and it was still a mile or so out of town.  The Mineshaft catered to
fishermen in the summer and skiers in the winter, taking the overflow from
Steamboat.  It was one of the few things that kept Copper Creek alive.  Along
with its two-pump gas station, the diner, a five and dime, and a small general
store and bait shop.

It
was a two story building with a rough wood exterior and a covered porch that
ran the length of the building.  It looked like any one of a hundred such
places, made to blend in to the surroundings, and to give it atmosphere.  At
the far end of the porch were a string of snowmobiles that the lodge rented out
to the tourists, and did a good part of its business from.  Sarah looked at
them and they appeared as mangled as the front door did before her.

Sarah
moved cautiously into the large main room, her heart pounding at every creak
and moan the building made.  Her arms and legs felt leaden from the cold and
she shuffled along on the hardwood floor, kicking a trail in the drift that had
moved in the opening before her.  The room was a giant icebox and her breath
hung heavily in the air around her head before the drafts finally carried it
away.

She
looked around at the carnage and felt a sinking feeling come over her.  There
would be no help here she decided, this place looked worse than the ranger
station.  Blood was smeared around the room and left in bizarre patterns that
looked like a child's finger paintings.  There were hand prints in blood as
well.  Huge hand prints, high on the walls and is made Sarah shiver.  She
swallowed hard and decided that she would have to investigate it anyway. 
Somehow she didn't think they would be back this way too soon, and she felt
safe, for a little while anyway.

***

There
was a soft white light, and shadows.  The ringing began to subside and the
world around came into focus.  Nick finally recognized Mike and Barbara
standing over him, concern on their faces.  His head felt as though it had been
split apart and glued back together, the wet Elmer's glue still running down
his lip.  He sat up slowly and the pounding at his temples surged momentarily
then returned to its dull throb.

"What
the hell happened?” Nick managed in a gruff voice, pinching the bridge of his
nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"We
hoped you could tell us Nick, you just...passed out.” Mike said quietly.
"Barbara said you started to bleed from your nose and ears, and then just
collapsed.  You had us pretty scared there for a while.", then added,
"Butthead."  Mike smiled that infamous grin and Nick had to return
it.

Nick
pondered for a moment, contemplating just how to explain it.  He wasn't too
sure himself.   He had heard something, or felt it, he just wasn't sure. 
Finally, "I was talking to Barbara when I felt all these emotions, mostly
despair, and futility.  I know that it was Sarah, she needs me, and she’s in
trouble."  Barbara looked at him incredulously but Mike nodded, he
understood.  He had seen it between them before.

Nick
continued, "I was feeling what she was, only stronger than I ever have
before.  Then there was an itch in the back of my mind.  It grew and started to
pound on my temples.  Then the pounding became words.  I could still hear
Barbara talking, but from a great distance.  Her voice was being crowded out by
the others."

"What
others?” Mike asked, curious.

"I,
I'm not sure.  There were hundreds of voices, all talking as one, all talking
directly to me.  They knew my name Mike, they knew my name and yours and
Sarah's, and Barbara's too.” he said, shaken.

"What'd
they say?” Mike prompted.

"They
didn't really say anything, they...they teased me."

"What?”
Barbara had a skeptical smile on her face.

"They
said they were going to kill me, then Sarah, then Mikey, then you Barbara.
Mikey, they called you Mikey,” turning to Mike, trying to add some validity to
what he was saying, "I never call you Mikey."

"No,
you never have."

"Then
they said how they'd ripped my buddies apart, they didn't call them by name but
I know they meant Mo and Taylor.  They asked me if I wanted to know how they
tasted."  Nick paused, taking in several deep breaths and holding up a
hand so that he could finish before they responded.  He could read it in their
faces, they didn't believe him and it made him so frustrated.  It was important
that they believe him, their lives depended on it.  All he could do was to
finish it and then argue its verity.

Nick
continued, "It wasn't even so much an actual voice.  It was more like
their thoughts became my thoughts.  Like they were just there and I could think
what they thought, or what they wanted me to think.  I tried to fight it, then
that's when everything went black.  The next thing I knew I was staring up at
you two.”  Nick finished it and rubbed his forehead with his thumb and
fingers.  He shook his head slowly, "I know it sounds crazy, hell, I
wouldn't believe it either."  He looked down at the table, sullen.

Mike
cast a glance at Barbara then looked back down at his friend.  He'd known Nick
for seven or eight years and thought he knew him pretty well.  And he himself
had a bad feeling about what had happened to Mo and the Tails, and this damn
storm.  Yes, it did sound crazy, but he believed him.  He looked at Barbara
again out of the corner of his eye and said to himself, "But she sure
doesn't, buddy."  Mike placed a hand on Nick's shoulder, "So what do
we do now?"

Nick
looked up appreciatively, "We've got to help Sarah.  She needs me Mike,
she needs us."

"How
Nick?  What can we do?  When we didn't show back up last night, Lord knows what
they did?"

"I
know.  But, I think she's somewhere between the ranger station and town.” he
grabbed Mike's arm, "She's in trouble."

"I
guess we could go out on the snowmobile.” Mike offered.  "Hayden said
there was a gun...” his mind working, he turned to look into the living room.

Barbara
was staring intensely at the two young men, she had missed a lot of what was
said but she could read it on their faces.  Mike believed that crap, maybe not
entirely, but enough.  She had clenched her teeth to keep from saying anything
but she could bide her tongue no longer and her Irish came through.

"Horse
hockey!” Barbara blurted out.  "Don't you two get no damn fool notions
about going back out in this storm, Hayden told you to stay put!  I believe you
sensed something from your sister Nick; I get feelings every now and then too. 
But you didn't hear any voices.  The only voices were the ones already in your
head, things you were already thinking."

Barbara
took a deep breath to calm her tone, and then continued, "Listen Nick. 
Its right for you to be concerned, a lot has happened.  But you're just worried
and your imagination has gone overboard.  You just aren't handling the stress
well, hun.  What you need is to stay here and rest, and wait for Hayden to get
back."  She looked over at Mike for any support, and then back down at
Nick, both were stoic.  She finally threw her arms up in exasperation and
walked over to the sink with the bowl of bloody water, mumbling to herself the
whole way.

Nick
and Mike looked at each other, the stoicism still there.  Mike turned and walked
into the living room, "I'll get the gun, you see if you can talk her into
making us some hot chocolate for the trip!” he yelled back.

"Thanks
a lot!  In case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly her favorite person right
now.” the yelling made Nick's temples pound again and he winced.  He got up and
walked over to Barbara who was busy ignoring him at the sink.  Nick grabbed her
gently by the shoulders and turned her to face him.

"I
have to go, she's my sister.” he explained.  "I know that she needs me,
somehow, I just know."

Barbara
looked deep into his eyes and saw the hurt there, the worry.  "I know it,
damn it.  I'd be the same way if it were Hayden."  Her expression
softened, "Let me fix you somethin' warm then, and God be with you. 
"Then she entirely surprised Nick by giving him a good hard hug, "And
be careful!"

***

There
was an eerie calm in the streets of Copper Creek as Nick and Mike passed
through it.  It was not calm from the aspect of the wind and how it brutalized
the snow, but from the absence of life.  The town appeared dead.  More than
that, it felt dead. Behind the store fronts and the houses there was nothing. 
Nick felt as though he were looking at tombs, the monuments of the people who
had once lived in this little hamlet.  It had the feeling of a ghost town.

Nick
caught movement to his right out of the corner of his eye.  But when he turned
to look there, there was nothing.  Again he thought he saw movement, this time
to his left, and again he turned to see nothing.  Ahead of him he saw Mike
jerking his head about in the same motions and wondered then, if he was seeing
it too?  He saw movement again, to the right.

It
could have been the alien landscape in the blizzard, or even the vacant streets
playing on his imagination.  It could have been the snow being tossed about by
the ruthless wind.  It could have been all those things, but it wasn't. 
Something was moving on the streets of Copper Creek, something that wasn't
human.  Suddenly, Nick felt a hundred eyes upon him and Mike.  They were being
watched, he could feel it.  Soulless eyes boring into them, but when he turned
to look they were gone.

Mike
throttled up the snowmobile just then as if he felt it as well.  A snow rooster
kicked up behind the machine as it approached full speed.  The two were being
thrown about by the rough terrain created by the drifting snow, and Nick
increased his grip on the hand rails at his sides.  He had no desire to fall
off, not now.  Somehow, he knew it would be the last thing he would ever do.

The
town went by in a blur and still Nick thought he saw movement.  He saw shadows
and outlines, but nothing tangible.  Yet it was all too real at the same time. 
Always teasingly out of reach, tantalizingly at the edges of his peripheral
vision.  Movement all around…Ghosts.

***

Gary
looked up only briefly with mild interest as he heard the whine of a snowmobile
blow past.  "They're hauling ass.” he thought to himself absently, and
then pulled his concentration back to what he was doing.  On the coffee table
in front of him lay the cross-bow and its bolts.  He paused long enough to
admire it one more time, and then focused on the snowshoe that was giving him
so much trouble.

He'd
been over it a hundred times; there was just no way to test-fire the thing
inside.  All he needed was to put a hole through something or bury a bolt up to
its tail feathers in the wall.  Then his mom really would pitch a fit.  So Gary
decided to try it out in the alley behind the Diner.  He could take a couple of
pot shots at that butt-head, Ray's, garbage cans.  Then he would just stash the
thing in the alley and sneak in the back to meet his mom for lunch.  It was a
plan.

Gary
finally got the strap to fit and yanked it snug.  Satisfied, he nodded and
stood. It was a strange feeling and he felt unsteady at first.  But as he got
used to the awkward things, he was soon sliding around the apartment with
ease.  Finally ready to face the great outdoors, he rounded up his new toy.  He
placed all but one of the bolts into a plastic grocery store bag and slipped
the hand holds over one wrist.  Next, Gary cocked the bow and placed the
remaining bolt in the guide slot.

He
sat the bow back down on the table and donned his parka and gloves.  Lastly, he
shoved his sunglasses onto his face and pulled up his hood.  He leaned down
awkwardly and scooped up the cross-bow, holding the bolt in place with his
thumb, and headed for the door.  His shoes clacked on the hard floor and his
ski-bib swished as he walked, but it was all lost in the wail of the wind as he
eased out into the storm.

It
was much colder than it had looked.  The cold bit at him through his clothes
and the snow stung the exposed parts of his face.  Gary knew that he would not
be able to stay out in this for long, and he didn't really want to.  He walked
as quickly as he could on the soft surface, the snowshoes keeping him from
sinking more than a few inches.  Even so, it was slow and awkward going, and by
the time he had reached the end of the building near the alley, he was winded.

Gary
paused there for a moment to catch his breath and survey his surroundings. He
couldn't see much, and what he could see was only vaguely familiar.  The tall
fence that lined one side of the alley was only a foot or so tall now, and
completely covered over with snow in some places.  The drift against it angled
down sharply toward the building though and made it nearly impossible to go
that way.  So Gary decided to skirt the fence and come up behind the dumpsters.

He
trudged through the snow with his head down and his hands tucked up close to
his body, the crossbow held snug against him.  Eyes trained on the fence top,
he followed it until it abruptly ended.  Or rather, a huge drift had ended it
for him.  Gary looked at it amazed, a wall of snow between two buildings that
surely must have been fifteen or twenty feet high.  Just above the top of the
drift, Gary could make out the indentation of a second floor window in the
building that housed the Diner.

Past
the drift, the fence top continued on, and to Gary's surprise he could make out
the alley below.  The snow here was not piled up nearly so deep and only about
two feet covered the alley itself.  A lucky break, Gary thought.  He could see
the back door to the Diner, and a little further down, a dark form that he knew
was another window.  Below that was the cover to a coal chute.  Gary had
noticed that most of the older buildings up in this area had them, though few
of them were still used.

Gary
thought for a moment, then sat down on the fence top and pulled the snowshoes
off.  The bindings were frozen and he had to work at them a bit, but finally he
got them.  He dropped them down into the alley and they stuck in the snow
there.  Then he eased the crossbow as far down as he could and let it fall. It
sank in the snow but was undamaged.  Next, Gary lowered himself over the side
and let go of the fence.  He dropped a couple of feet, never even slowing as he
hit the snow.

When
Gary touched hard earth he fell backward and landed on his butt.  He grunted a
curse then struggled up to his knees and leaned over to grab his snowshoes and
the bow.  With them in hand, he stood and turned to look down the alley.  At
the far end of the alley, he could barely make out the dark shape of the
dumpster.   It was half buried but it would serve just fine as a target, Gary
thought, "And the ass hole will never know the difference.” he nodded.

Gary
was already freezing, and his little drift dive hadn't helped any, so he
decided to dispense with any formalities.  He raised the bow, pointed it in the
general direction, and squeezed the trigger.  The bow snapped and jerked in his
hands, and the bolt was gone.  A split second later he heard a muffled “thunk.”