Dead Of Winter (The Rift Book II) (38 page)

“I’m coming to get you,
Kirsty
,” he sang.

*
 
 
*
 
 
*

“So there was this chick,” said Dennis.
“Met her in
New Orleans
back in ’72.
She was
one’a
those hanger-on types. You know the kind…the ones who followed bands around all over the place, sleeping with roadies to get ‘special
access’
. Well anyway, she saw me play at some little ho-dunk club one night, and she came on to me
somethin
’ fierce. I was all like, ‘whoa, lassie, slow down,’ and she was like, ‘but c’mon, cowboy, Santana ain’t
playin
’ tonight and I need some action,’ and I was like, ‘Oh, you like Santana?’ and she was like, ‘Like him?
I been
on tour with him since
Chattanooga
. Even let him suck on my
titties
once…’”

Hector rolled his eyes and let him talk. This was the third time Dennis had told this story in the last week. When the older, silver-haired man reached the punch line he said it along with him. “And that’s how I ended up playing a week’s worth of shows with Santana.” Luis started laughing, which launched Dennis into yet another story.

With the
Louisiana
drawl flaring in the background Hector let his mind drift. Just as with the prior tale, he already know how the story would play out, because every anecdote Dennis told followed the same pattern: met some chick, had wild sex, met someone famous, gained a great story and perhaps an unwanted ailment. Hector took a sip of brandy, stood up, stretched his arms high above his head, and strolled to the railing. Dennis, still squawking away, didn’t miss a beat.

The three of them were sitting on the wraparound second-level balcony, enjoying the somewhat warmer weather. It was comfortable enough for Hector to venture outside with only a sweater on, which meant it had to be around fifty degrees. He breathed in deep and exhaled. Only a barely visible stream of mist left his mouth. Yup, fifty sounded just about right. After months of below-freezing temperatures it seemed downright balmy.

He let his eyes wander, watching those below do their thing. To his left was the trio of Corky and two of the
newbies
, Allison Steinberg and her daughter. The little girl was crying a bit, but laughing, too, as Corky made funny faces at her. The father, the one who’d hit Corky with a shovel, was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Horace, Doug, or Larry. They were probably inside playing chess or something.

After taking another deep breath he walked along the balcony in the other direction. Soon he came upon the side garden and there was Stan, spinning around the apple tree in the center of the snow-covered garden at breakneck speed. He looked like he was trying to take flight.

“
Yo
, Stan!”
Hector shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.

Stan lost his grip on the tree, stumbled, and fell. He rolled across the ground. Hector called out again but Stan didn’t answer. Instead, he got to his knees and began muttering. Then he fell still and stayed that way too long for
Hector’s
liking.

“Hey guys,” Hector said.

Dennis stopped mid-story and said, “Huh? What?”

“Come take a look at this.
Mira.
Now.”

His two friends joined him at the railing. “What’s he doing?” asked Luis.

“Don’t know.
STANLEY
!” he called out again. When Stan didn’t answer, he said, “I think he hit his head or something.”

“Or he’s just playing around with you,” said Dennis.

Hector shrugged.
“Maybe.
He’s been acting weird lately, though.
Kinda
loco
, you know?”

“He’s probably just stressed,” Luis said. “I mean, we been doing nothing but waiting. Maybe he’s stir crazy.”

“Maybe.”

Suddenly,
Stanley
jumped to his feet. He started walking at a brisk pace around the corner of the building. The trio of onlookers mirrored him on the balcony, watching as he stormed across the parking lot and out the front gate. There he paused and yelled something Hector couldn’t quite hear. Then he took off, jumping the curb and heading into the woods.

“Uh,
Hec
,” said Dennis, “where’s he going?”

Hector frowned. “Don’t know.”

“I think he just lost his shit,” said Luis.

Dennis grabbed him by the wrist. “I think we should go get him,” he said. “
Y’know
, in case he does something stupid.”

Hector nodded. “I’m with you,
compadre
,” he said as they ran towards the balcony exit. “I don’t like this at all.”

*
 
 
*
 
 
*

The rooms in his house were the same as Stan remembered. The rugs were still red, the couches still orange, and the bathroom still smelled of potpourri. He followed the sound of Kirsten’s feet as they pounded up the stairs. One of the rugs tore, splitting apart as if it were made of tissue paper. He slid on the hardwood floor and slammed against the wall. There was something wrong. The boards were slick and covered with condensation. He wondered if a water pipe had broken in the basement.

“Come and get me,” called Kirsten. He shook the cobwebs from his brain and headed for the staircase. Again a sense of strangeness crept over him. The lighting seemed off somehow – hazy, unnatural. He stood still with his hand on the balustrade and glanced about. He felt like he was going insane.

“What
are
you doing?” asked Kirsten. He looked up to see her at the top of the staircase. She wore nothing but a pair of white cotton panties. Her arms were crossed in front of her bare chest and her russet skin glowed. Butterflies fluttered in Stan’s gut and he forgot about any apprehension he might have felt.

“Stay right there!” he shouted. “I’m coming up!”

He pounded the steps and ran after her. She giggled and backed away before she turned tail and sprinted for the bedroom. The door slammed shut behind her when he reached the top.

“Damn, girl, you’re quick,” he whispered with excitement. He breathed heavy, not understanding why it took so much effort to climb a simple flight of stairs. Shrugging it off, he hurried down the hall and opened the bedroom door.

*
 
 
*
 
 
*

Hector, Luis, and Dennis hurried after their friend. By the time they’d made it outside Stan was nowhere to be found. They followed his footprints in the melting snow, which led to a hiking trail that snaked through the wilderness at a steady incline. Luckily no one had ventured out much over the long winter with the exception of Horace and Doug, so the fresh tracks were readily noticeable.

They followed the trail at a brisk jog. Before too long they spotted him nearing the top of a rocky gradient, maybe two hundred feet ahead. The three of them stopped, cupped their hands around their mouths, and called his name. He didn’t even glance at them before disappearing over the ridge.

“Damn crazy white dude,” muttered Luis. “What the fuck is he doing?”

Dennis pointed at a placard that had been pounded into the ground at the edge of the trail.
Lookout Point: Elevation 1.9 Miles
, it read.

“Think he just wants a good view?” he asked.

“I hope that’s it,” said Hector, and they rushed after him once more.

*
 
 
*
 
 
*

Stan stood in the bedroom. The window was open and Kirsten stood with her back to him in front of the large mirror above her dresser. He crept up behind and wrapped his arms around her belly. Her skin felt like satin.

“Hey there, honey,” she said with a smile.

He stared at their reflection and the old pride he felt at seeing the two of them intertwined returned. There was a beautiful symmetry to the contrast between their complexions – his ashen, hers bronzed like polished oak. He recalled his family’s reservations about their relationship, the way they’d held firm to the concept that like should mate with like. In those early days he felt certain that they, in time, would look past color and come to see her the way he did – as a woman who loved him and nothing more. In the end he’d been right in that assumption.
Mostly.

He kissed the nape of her neck. Her sweat tasted sugary. She squirmed in his arms like a rabbit in heat. His arousal emerged and he went to kiss her neck even harder than before. Kirsten spun around, pressed her breasts into him, and put a finger on his lips.

“Wait,” she murmured, and slipped from his grasp. “Follow me.” He stood there, dumbfounded, as she climbed out the open window. Her hand reappeared and beckoned him onward.

A brisk wind slapped his face when he poked his head outside. His hands rested on the roof’s tiles and for a moment he wondered why they felt so cool. They should’ve burnt his palms, considering the blistering sun that shone down on them. Then he caught sight of Kirsten, perched on the roof ten feet ahead of him, her naked body displayed like a perfect sculpture as she stood with her arms spread wide, head arched toward the sky. He shrugged his uncertainty aside.

He walked along the roof, trying not to lose his balance. When he placed a hand on her shoulder he saw her face. She wore an odd, somber expression.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” he asked. She didn’t reply.
“C’mon,
Kirsty
, talk to me.”

She grabbed him by the elbow. Her skin felt cold. She looked him in the eyes and said, “I’m tired of this. I’m tired of missing you. Why can’t you just come home?” The sorrow in her voice was palpable.

“What’re you talking about?” he replied. “I’m here. I never left. At least, I don’t think I did. Did I?”

She nodded.

Confusion immersed him in its tangled web. “I don’t understand. You’re real.
This
is real. I can see you, I can feel you.”

“You know that’s not the case, honey. I’m dead.”

He fervently shook his head, but despite his vehemence he knew she spoke the truth. “I can’t accept that,” he said. “I’m not going to leave. I’m here to stay. No one’s going to drag me away from here, from you, again.”

“It doesn’t work that way,” said Kirsten. “You can’t control this. Sooner or later you’ll wake up, and I’ll be alone again.” Her body began to shimmer. It became transparent for a moment and flickered before regaining its solidity. “It’s already starting,” she said. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

Stan swallowed his fear. “What do I have to do?”

She let go of him and walked to the edge of the roof. He followed alongside her and looked down. It seemed a much longer drop than he remembered.

“You have to fly with me,” she said.

“Huh?”

“Our love is all that matters. Our love can conquer anything, even death. It will give us wings. All you have to do is trust it.” She reached out for him. “Take my hand, darling. Let our love guide us as we take flight.”