The Winter People (4 page)

Marty and Nick had
plugged in the X–Box and were blasting monsters in a sewer somewhere.  Taylor
returned to his room and dressed while Debbie picked up the Dean R. Koontz book
she'd been reading and opened it.  In the background were the distinct sound of
electronic gunfire and the death snarls of evil creatures.  From further back
in the house she could hear bass and drums but didn’t really recognize the
song.  That was another thing she found interesting about Nick, when he was
with the guys he listened to the flavor of the day.   But when it was just him
and her, he preferred older pop and soft rock tunes.  She smiled inwardly and
began reading as they waited for Mike.

They were busy fighting
the anticipation, trying to make the time pass as quickly and wordlessly as they
could.  Debbie had been around them long enough to recognize the fight.  She'd
seen it a hundred times before.  It was part of Nick's charm she supposed and
she smiled inwardly again.

A half an hour
later there was a knock at the door and an instance of tenseness rifled
throughout the house.  The waiting was over.  Nick, awaiting his turn at level
eight, moved to the front door and peered out the peephole.  A bespectacled eye
peered back, distorted by the convex of the glass.  Nick had to laugh.  He
yanked the door open.  "Mister Google!" he exclaimed with genuine
affection.  He took Mike's hand and pulled him in and hugged him.

"Hey
Nick," Mike replied, his smile broad and toothy.  His black hair hung down
across his brow and round glasses sat askew on his long face.  "Dude, the
old hitch-a-rama, huh?!"  The words were coated with disbelief and Mike
looked at him hard trying to decide if it was for real.  "Nick, Nick,
Nick, Nick, Nick," he shook his head.  They smiled at each other for an
awkward moment then moved into the living room as Taylor came up the hall.

"So, how'd it
happen?  Did you like, get down on one knee or something?" Mike asked.

"I'm not quite
sure man,” Nick replied,  “Here she was, slapping me for no good reason, and the
next thing I know, I'm proposing," he regarded Debbie.  "I think I
was drugged."

Debbie elbowed him
in the ribs in response.  As Nick and Mike and the others talked, she suddenly
felt like a fifth wheel.  Nick did his best to include her in the little
reunion, but it wasn't her party.  They weren't her friends, or their friends,
they were his friends.  But, that was okay.  She knew he would have his
friends, as she fully expected to have hers.  She was content to sit off in the
corner and listen, and smile at them.  A very short time later, they left for
the Cooperage.

They celebrated
like they did in years past.  It was male bonding and dripping with
testosterone, but more than that Debbie decided.  They were best friends, the
four Musketeers.  And Debbie didn't realize it until she'd seen them all
together and listened to them talking.  There was something between them that
she could never have with Nick and it made her a little jealous.  She realized
then why Nick needed to be alone with them for this trip too.  In a few months
his life was going to change drastically.  And boyhood friendships, friendships
deeper and longer than she had even known Nick, were going to end.

Not end entirely. 
Just change so much that the original bond would be lost.  She saw that Nick
saw his tried and true way of living coming to an end, and this was his last
goodbye.  It made her a little sad too.  She had told him time and again that
things wouldn't change, but somewhere deep down she knew that they would.  They
had to.  She had seen it with other couples and knew that it would be the same
with them.  So, she would let him have his farewell.

The group arrived
back home around one a.m., happy, very drunk, and exhausted.  Mike crashed out
on the couch while the others made it to their bedrooms.  Debbie helped Nick to
bed and curled up beside him, his warmth penetrating her, encompassing her. 
They made love and fell asleep holding each other.  Nick's long arms wrapped
around her solidly and pulled her close.

***

Nick's left brain
kicked him in the temple to get his attention just before he passed the turn
off to the cabin.  Just past the Ranger Station was the dirt road he would need
to take, although now it was covered in packed snow.  Before he made the left
turn, Nick glanced once more in the rear-view mirror.  He saw nothing.  Though
there was some light from the station to break the dark, it was still
impossible to see very far.  He had been keeping track of the others by
watching the two dots of light that seemed to float through space in the
blackness, following a strange course that was the winding path of the road.

Nick sighed then
made the turn.  He knew that he was going to have to come back out and find
them.  He had the feeling that they were stuck again.  "Damn," he
mumbled to himself.

He continued on,
following the curves and grades of the now one lane road for the next three
miles to the cabin.  Uncle Bud had left the deck light on for them.  His real
name was Harlan and Nick didn't know how he had come to be called
"Bud", he only knew that no one had ever called him Harlan.  It was a
good thing the porch light was on, it was pitch black out here and without that
light Nick could easily have missed it.

There was no way
to actually drive up to the cabin.  They had to park on the road and hike up. 
Fortunately the plow had made a wide spot in the road in front of the place. 
Probably at his uncle's request, Nick guessed.  Nick went ahead and turned the
car around so that it would be facing the direction he figured he would need to
go in a few minutes.

"Okay guys,
we're here."  The others slowly began to stir.

"Wake up you
bums!  C'mon," Nick urged and Mike and Sarah came around groggily.

Mike rubbed his
eyes beneath his glasses and stretched his face muscles which worked itself
into a yawn, then looked around.  "Where are Mo and The Tails?" he
asked.  Mo was their universal abbreviation for Marty and The Tails for
Taylor.  Not that The Tails was any shorter, just more fun.  Mike then began
searching for his left glove.

"They’re
probably stuck in a snow bank somewhere."  In Sarah's voice was mock
sarcasm but it was all just good natured kidding.  She and Mike laughed but
Nick only smiled.

"Go ahead and
laugh, butt brains.  I'm the one that's got to go find them."  Nick was
obviously not pleased with the prospect.

"Oh, they'll
be along in a minute.  You know how slow he drives," Sarah said.  She had
gathered her things and was climbing out the driver side door to stand next to
Nick.  Mike was still looking for his glove.

"Brrrrrr! 
It's cold out here!" she chattered out.  She knew she should be able to
see her breath but the wind was carrying it away.  It was literally ripping it
out of her lungs.

Mike finally found
his glove and climbed out his door.  "Want me to lock it Nick?"

"Nah.  No
one's out here to bother it.  Besides, I have the feeling that I'll be back
down here in a minute anyway."  He was showing signs of being disgusted. 
Then Nick looked to his left and right, "I guess Bryan and Aunt Ruth
haven't made it yet?"

Sarah replied,
"No, they're not coming until tomorrow."  Almost as an afterthought
she added, "If the weather holds, that is."

"Oh, I
thought it was tonight."

"That's what
you get for thinking'," Sarah ribbed.

Mike closed his
door and when the dome light went out they were encased in total darkness. 
They could barely make out each other's shapes.  If you asked them if someone
was standing near them they would have said yes only because they knew that
someone had been there.  Without the light, each of them felt completely alone
with nondescript shadows as companions.

"Shit!  I
can't see a damned thing!" Sarah remarked, squinting in the darkness.  The
trees had blocked nearly all of the light from the cabin to their position on
the roadside.  After a few moments their eyes adjusted and they could make out
indentations of a path in the snow.  Sarah started up the hill and the others
followed her, with Nick taking up the rear.  He glanced one final time down the
road and saw no tiny points of light.

"Shit,"
Nick mumbled to himself.  He shook his head then continued up the path.

The cabin was warm
and what had once been a roaring fire was now just glowing embers in the 1889
cast iron stove.  Kicking the snow from their boots, they each in turn came in
the front door that had apparently been left unlocked for them.  The big main
room was empty and Nick figured that his uncle had gone to bed.

He looked around
the room and embraced its warmth and charm.  His uncle had designed and built
it.  The main room contained the kitchen and living room.  The kitchen was
immediately to the left as you entered the doorway.  It was separated from the
living room by a large butcher block table with barstools along the side that
faced the living room.  It was a nice kitchen with a lot of counter space and
cabinets.  It also had a microwave and dishwasher---some cabin.

In the living
room, along the wall that was the stairway to the loft, sat the antique stove
with its chimney disappearing out the high, angular room.  A couch sat along
the far wall next to the T.V. (satellite dish of course) and another one
against the wall directly to your right as you stood in the doorway.  This wall
was in fact a pair of giant sliding glass doors that led out onto a deck that
faced the road.  Snow on the deck stood five feet deep with a little path cut
through it to get to the firewood stacked out there.

The loft was a big
room half the length of the cabin with only a railing separating it from the
rest of the room.  It contained three beds, two twins and one king size that
Nick and Marty shared since they were the tallest ones there.  Behind the
stairwell sat a washer and dryer.  Past them was the bathroom.  In the very
back of the cabin sat two bedrooms next to each other, across from the washer
and dryer.

The entire
interior of the cabin had been done with smooth interlocking strips of cedar in
different widths.  Some were six inches wide.  Some were two or three.  They
went in one direction for a while, then changed and went in another.  Some were
diagonal.  Some went straight up and down, then diagonally the opposite
direction.  The lines were all very pleasing to the eye.  The wood was broken
up by a white ceiling under the loft, and wallpaper in the kitchen.  Nick
thought it had taken his uncle an incredible amount of patience to put up this
interior.

The cabin was
heated with electric baseboard heat in addition to the stove.  Not very
efficient, Nick thought.  But, it had been built over twelve years ago.  This
however, was the first time that Nick had ever been there.  His sister had come
up several times before with their family but Nick had never managed it.  He
never thought he would have fun up here.  And the thought of spending that much
time around his mother was repugnant.  He had declined by making excuses.  Nick
didn't get along very well with his mother.  She was an acrimonious woman.  He
often times wondered if she hated all men the way it seemed she hated Nick and
his father.  She was the main reason he had moved to Memphis four years
earlier.

He had managed to
move back to Albuquerque this past summer and was very happy about it.  He was
getting along so much better with his mother.  She still tended to harp on his
life, but Nick didn't mind so much anymore.  Nick had done a lot of growing up
in Memphis and his mother had changed as well since he'd been gone.  Of course,
she said that she hadn't, that she'd always been this way.  But Nick knew
better.  Nick looked around the cabin and was truly glad to be there.  He told
himself how stupid he had been for not coming up here sooner.

Nick considered
his sister.  He and Sarah had always been close, more so than either of them
had been with their older sister.  He and Sarah were only a year apart and had
a great deal in common.  He was closer to her than anyone in his family.  Nick
looked at Sarah with affection and tenderness.  He really loved her and knew
deep down that he would do anything for her.

Sarah caught his
look and smiled.  She walked up to him and hugged him without saying a word. 
She knew what he was thinking.  She always did.  It was strange.  It almost
seemed as if they communicated on some higher level.  Sarah always knew when he
was down and needed some cheering up, or when he had hurt himself (he was a
real klutz).  Likewise, Nick could always tell when Sarah was feeling low or
just needed to talk.  It felt good being this way with someone.

Sarah turned and
headed toward the back of the cabin, and the bedroom that she had all to
herself.  "See you in the morning.  What time are we getting up?"

Mike answered her
from the top of the stairs; it was directed at Nick as much as her. 
"About seven, Sarah.  We need to leave here by eight if we want to make it
to the basin by ten."  He started descending the stairs and watched Sarah
as she passed the base of the stairs and disappeared around the corner.

"Do you think
we need to go look for them?" Mike queried Nick as he hit the bottom step.

"Yeah, I
suppose so," Nick said, obviously disgusted, "Do you want to go with
me?"

"No.  But I
better in case you need the help."  He raised his eyebrows in a gesture
that said, "Oh well, let's do it," and then they bundled back up and
headed out the door.  A biting wind greeted them as they did so.  This time,
Mike had the presence of mind to grab a flashlight off of the kitchen counter
before they left.

***

In the middle of
the black ahead of them in the distance was a surreal glow.  It disappeared
then reappeared with each crest and valley they traversed.  The closer they
came to it, the more the glow turned into a discernible light.  A single
headlight directed off into a field.  By the time they had cleared the last
hill, the last obstacle between themselves and the lucent scene, they were
nearly upon it.

Nick and Mike's
eyes widened as the radiance illuminated the Jeep lying on its side.  One
headlight was buried in a drift and cast the ethereal glow that encompassed the
scene with a nimbus.  Like a dead Cyclops with its singular eye opened and
glazed, the other headlight stared blankly into space.  Nick slowed to a stop
about thirty feet from the wreck.

"Jesus
Christ!"  His words trembling, Nick sat there holding tightly onto the
wheel afraid to let go.  He was afraid to let go of a piece of solid reality in
what seemed like a very bad dream.  There was no windshield to cast a
reflection, either from the Jeep's headlights, or his own.  They could tell
right away that the Jeep was empty.

"Jesus!"
he repeated.  Nick turned to Mike.  The expression on Mike's face told him that
this was indeed happening.

"Oh shit! 
Shit!  We-we'd better see what's going on Nick!  Maybe they were thrown from it
. . . or. . ."  Mike trailed off then released his seatbelt and opened his
door.

Nick did the
same.  Neither of them said anything for a long time.  They walked slowly to
the heap, the icy wind biting at their exposed parts.  They did not notice it. 
The wind howled and screeched and screamed at them, but they did not notice
that either.  It was a strange and eerie sound as though it were passing through
the leafless branches of some nearby trees.  But they did not notice it, or the
fact that there were no trees nearby.

Nick knelt at the
windshield and peered in, one hand on the top of the cab to steady him.  The
insides were a shambles, broken glass and ski equipment everywhere.  He noticed
the blood on the door window against the ground and his heart skipped.  Then he
saw that the driver side door was gone.  Not opened, but simply not there.  He
gasped.  Then his eyes focused on something much closer to his face.

There was
something on the fragment of windshield that remained in the Jeep.  It was
fluttering in the breeze and it took a while for Nick to ascertain just what it
was.  When it finally hit him he gasped again and stood up, staring at it.  His
gaze followed a small trail of dark splotches on the snow that looked like oil
in the available light.  He knew that it was blood.  The trail came out the
windshield and across the hood, where the spots had hit and run down the hood
towards the ground and frozen in route.

The trail of blood
hit the road where he was standing, continued on toward the opposite side of
the road then abruptly ceased half way there.  This, and the fact that most of
the windshield was laying in pieces on the inside of the cab told him that they
hadn't been thrown from it.  Mike had gone around to the other side of the
Jeep.  Finding nothing, he returned to where Nick now stood and followed his
gaze to the trail of blood.