The Winter People (20 page)

By
the time that Sarah had reached her uncle, her chest and throat ached from the
arctic air and she had fallen twice in the deep snow.  This last time was when
she inadvertently stepped off the roadway and dropped off into a good six feet of
the stuff. Wading through it was tougher than trying to walk in a swimming
pool, she thought dumbly.  She grabbed onto the track of the turned plow to
pull herself along and finally reached her uncle.

As
she climbed into the hole he'd made when he fell, she noticed that his chest
wasn't moving.  Although it was difficult to tell under all of the winter wear
she reminded herself, she felt it was just a false hope.  A lie to herself.  A
prayer.  She pawed at his facemask with her gloved hands but couldn't remove
it.  In frustration she threw the gloves aside and felt the frigid air bite at
her exposed flesh.  But Sarah didn't care, all that mattered was Bud.

Bud's
facemask came away easily after Sarah released the Velcro at the back of his
neck.  She pulled it off him so that she could see his face and her expression
went blank. Blood had gurgled up in his mouth and was even now bubbling out to
one side.  It was smeared around his lips and on the left side of his chin. 
Beneath his goggles his eyes were glassy and blank, staring at nothing.  Sarah
looked closely and saw no vapor escape either his nostrils or his mouth, he
wasn't breathing.

"No!”
she screamed in disbelief.  Then, the tears swelled up inside her and burst
forth like a dam.  They flowed from her and ran down her cheeks to dampen the
foam of her goggles.  "No.", she repeated under her breath in a
broken-winded puff.  Her chest racked with tremors as she started to cry.  It
was not a bellow or a wail, just deep.

Sarah
stared at him for a moment, cradling his head in her hands.  She swallowed hard
and sniffed a couple of times then removed her goggles and wiped her eyes with
the back of one hand.  The tears were warm on it and it caused her to look for
her gloves.  She found them slightly behind her and several feet away.  Sarah
retrieved the gloves, then her composure, somewhat.  She sat there for a while,
not quite sure what to do next.

Finally,
Sarah looked around herself in a vain effort to gain some answers, a course of
action from her surroundings.  As she sat there in the cold, Bud's dead weight
pressing down on her lap, a sense of futility began to seep into her mind.  She
looked around dumbly once again and only then did she notice the splotches on
the front of the plow.  Dark red against the yellow, red splatters everywhere. 
Frozen splatters.  Blood splatters.

***

Nick
suddenly became awash with emotions that weren't his own, futility, fear,
panic, sorrow.  All jumbled into a mass of confusion and indecision.  They
weren't thrust upon him like an overpowering sense of someone's thoughts.  But,
more like the edges of some distant dream dancing enticingly just out of
reach.  Then, just as suddenly, they were gone.  Yet, he was left with the
feeling that his sister needed him.

In
that brief moment he'd lost track entirely of his conversation with Barbara. 
He came back into it, lost.  Fortunately, she was speaking and hadn't seemed to
notice his brief trip into the Twilight Zone.

"...so
Hayden just showed up one day and gave me this ring.  He didn't say anything,
just handed it to Me.", Barbara's eyes were far away and her expression
was one of fond memory.  She was looking at Nick, talking to him, but he could
easily have not even been there.  Then she snapped out of it and continued.

"He
just always assumed we’d get married.  There never was any question with him,
and I guess I saw it the same way.  So, no Nick, Hayden never did actually
propose to me.  I guess that sounds pretty weird?"

"Not
at all, I think it sounds special."  Suddenly, Nick thought of Debbie
again and he missed her more than he ever had.  Then, back deep in his brain
there was a buzz, a buzz that grew into words.  Words that became so loud they
pounded on his temples trying to get out. 
You'll never see Debbie again
Nick.  You're going to die and we're going to help you do it.  And then we're
going to VISIT your sister, Nick. 
But mixed in with these foreign words
were other words as well, sentences in a voice that was strangely familiar.

Nick's
mind was being bombarded from inside and out in a continual drone of
confusion.  He didn't know what was happening and he raised his hands to his
temples and massaged them.  Strangers were speaking to him, in him....
Then
Hayden took the ring a month later and pawned it to bail a buddy out of
jail-----And when we've finished with her Nick, then we're going to see
Mikey-----He did get it back for me of course, but it was--
Barbara--
one
of the strangest--
That's Barbara's voice
--engagements I've ever
heard of--
Barbara.

And
then we'll visit with Barbara for a time, a good long time Nick. 
The stranger's voice(s) crowded
out Barbara's, and even Nick's will to fight it (them). 
He couldn't focus and the
pounding at his temples grew louder still.  He felt his eardrums expanding to
the point of bursting and he wanted to cry out, to scream.  But he couldn't. 
All he could do was listen to them.

Wanna know what we did to your
buddies Nick? --
No!
--
Wanna know
how they screamed when we ripped them apart? --
Stop
it!
-- Wanna know how they TASTED?

The
pain was too much and Nick's body did the only thing it could to fight it.  It
shut down.  Everything went fuzzy and the voices became faint whispers, then
nothing at all.  Darkness was crowding out all else and the last words of the
strangers were nearly lost, nearly. 
We hope you taste as sweet Nick.
 Then
the darkness became complete and not even the voices of the strangers could
filter through.  At last, Nick was oblivious to everything.

***

"I
sorta rigged it up myself Mike.  I got the idea from the TDD in the bedroom.”
Hayden motioned to the back of the house with his head.

"TDD?"
Mike queried.

"Oh.
It’s a Telecommunications Device for the Deaf.  It's like a digital typewriter
hooked into the phone lines.  There's a central operator's station that all of
the devices are connected to.  Then, anyone on the system can talk to anyone
else on the system."

"I
see", Mike nodded in comprehension.

"So
I figured, why not with the radio?  It's really nothing more than Morse code
and a red light, but it lets me contact her, and vice-versa.", Hayden
explained, obviously pleased with his handiwork.

He
continued, "It's just like one of those cheap Radio Shack walkie-talkies
that have the little Morse code button on them.  Only this flashes a light
instead of using a tone.  I've tuned both sets to a specific unused frequency
in the area.  It's pretty primitive I think, but it's worked okay so far.  The
biggest problem was for Barb and me to learn Morse.” Hayden chuckled.  His
modest nature wouldn't allow himself to blow his own horn too loudly.  He
looked down at the handset on the desk, slightly embarrassed, and ran one
finger along the top of the back of the chair there.

"So
that's how you told her about us and everything, even with the phones out.”
Mike realized, impressed.  It was quite a job of handiwork no matter how modest
Hayden was being about it.

"That's
it. I hope to..."

"Hayden!?”
Barbara's voice was urgent but not panicked, "Hayden, come quick!"

Hayden
and Mike came into the kitchen from the living room and were startled by the
picture before them.  Nick was slumped over the table and Barbara was just
coming up beside him with a wet washcloth.  Hayden moved quickly to the table,
looked down at Nick, and placed a hand on Barbara's shoulder to turn her to face
him.  In that moment he saw that Nick was unconscious and there was a trickle
of blood running down his lip from his nose.

"What
happened?"

"I,
I don't know? We were talking and he began to rub his temples, then his nose
started to bleed.” Barbara recounted, biting her lower lip.  Mike took the
washcloth from her and started to dab up the blood that had pooled on the
table.

She
continued, "I tried to get his attention but he didn't even notice me. 
Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed onto the table."

Mike
laid Nick down onto the bench seat, his arms dangling lifelessly on either
side.  He knelt beside Nick and held pressure against the bleeding with the now
red mottled cloth.  Mike felt Hayden and Barbara come up behind him but did not
move.  He just held the cloth with one hand and affectionately caressed Nick's
sweat laden forehead with the other.  He was pale and clammy and his breathing
was shallow.  Mike was worried.

Then
Mike felt Hayden's firm grip on his shoulder and it had a calming effect on
him.  Hayden squeezed once then just let his hand rest there.  Mike turned to
look up at him and his eyes were glossy.

"I
couldn't stand to lose another one Hayden, I couldn't.", Mike turned away
then, and sighed.

"You're
not going to lose him Mike, he just fainted.  He'll be okay, I'm sure of it.
It's probably just everything that's happened, and all that rot-gut we drank
last night.  He did put away quite a bit of it you know.” Hayden's voice was
gentle and seemed out of place with his presence.  It had a soothing quality to
it and it helped Mike to fight back the tears that were trying like hell to
fall.  Hayden realized that this was very nearly the straw that could break
Mike's back; he was close to the point of having had too much happen to him too
quickly.

Hayden
looked down at Nick then who had begun to tremble and he swallowed hard.
 Not
both of you,
he thought,
I don't need both of you falling apart on me. 
He
had told Mike that it was nothing, but it sure didn't feel like nothing.  No
siree, it didn't feel like
nothing
at all.  Hayden was worried.

Barbara
came up behind them and startled them both, taking each of them suddenly out of
whatever thoughts they were involved in.  She brandished a pot with water and a
fresh washcloth.  She pushed Mike away gently and took his position beside
Nick.  Mike stood beside Hayden, unsure of what to do.  There were several
moments of tense silence which Hayden finally broke.

"I've
got some things I need to take care of Mike.” Hayden watched Mike closely, who
only nodded acknowledgement.  He continued, "You stay here and help take
care of your friend, I'll be back soon enough.  If you get the inkling, see if
you can raise someone on the radio.  If you can get through to the Ranger
Station, get them to send for help.  If you get any locals, tell them to bolt
their doors and stay put.  You got that?"  Hayden paused as Mike nodded,
and then went on.

"There's
a gun and ammo in the top drawer of the desk next to the radio if you need it,
but I
want you to stay put.
 Got it?” a nod, "Okay, I'm leaving
now.  Take care of both of them."  Hayden clasped him on the shoulder
again and was gone.  He hoped that the responsibility he had just given Mike
would give him strength.  It was all he had.

***

The
snow was beginning to stick to Bud's face and powder him white before Sarah
finally decided upon a course of action.  She had no idea of how long she had
sat there. She figured it was very near to an hour, but it was difficult to say
in this cold, this situation.  Her joints ached and her extremities were
beginning to get numb.  A warm place far from here was exactly what she needed.

Sarah
hooked a hand under each armpit of her dead uncle and began to drag him out of
the hole they were in.  The snow was not solid enough to allow her to walk on
top of it so she had to bull her way through it.  The effort took every amount
of strength that she had and she had stopped to rest several times before
reaching the roadway.  Raking in huge amounts of frigid air from the exertion
caused her chest to ache and each time she stopped to rest was a little longer
than the previous one.

Sarah
reached the front of Bud's Polaris only moments before her strength gave out
altogether.  She let her uncle drop into the snow at her feet and she herself
dropped to all fours, breathing heavily.  After a moment, her legs weren't
quite so shaky and she felt she could stand on them.  Sarah made the fifteen or
so feet to her snowmobile fairly easily, her strength returning with each step.

As
she climbed onto her snowmobile she went over her plan again in her head. She
would tie the sled onto her machine as she didn't figure that she could lift
the other. Then she would strap her uncle's body on the sled next to Clayton,
she didn't think he was in any condition to protest, and it wouldn't have
mattered to Sarah if he did.  Finally, she would tow them both into town.  Oh
well, she thought, it was a plan.

She
was just about to press the start button when a blast of arctic wind nearly
took her off of it.  It was a wailing cry that pounded on her temples and made
her wince.  It seemed far away and right on top of her all at once.  She broke
out in uncontrollable tremors and she was suddenly very afraid.  The wind cried
again and it was even closer, louder.  She instinctively put her hands up to
her ears and held them there tightly.

Something
bad was coming, she felt it.  It was coming for her, it wanted her, and she
felt that too.  Sarah lowered her hands and looked around her, moving her head
in quick jerky motions, trying to catch a glimpse of it over here, or a peek at
it over there. But she could see nothing, only white, and blowing white, and
shades of white.  It was right on top of her, she could feel its presence, and
it’s evil.

It
was all around her, its cries the wind itself.  It was heavy with misanthropy
but there was also a joy in it.  Not a happy joy, but a gloating joy, a sickly
triumphant joy. Then Sarah remembered the flare gun in the folds of her coat
and she reached for it, a torch against the dark, a talisman, a chance.  She
found it and her heart pounded hard with the hope it had given her.  Sarah
looked down upon it in her hand as if it were a charm that could protect her
from the evil that was enveloping her.

Clayton
suddenly screamed a bone chilling cry that could be heard even above the wail
that encompassed him.  He struggled hard against the ropes that bound him but
he couldn't move.  He could only rock his head from side to side.  And watch it
come for him.  The way it had surely come for Ted.  He continued to scream, as
it was his only recourse. But he wouldn't have to scream for long.

Sarah
looked up from the flare gun with the first scream and saw Clayton struggling
beneath the blankets and ropes.  There was a deep fear etched in his face, a
fear she had never seen before.  But she saw nothing else.  Sarah looked even
harder, focused all of her will towards Clayton and still she could see
nothing.  She was about to shrug it off to his state when they found him, or
simply his reaction to the same evil that she felt, when she saw movement.

It
was a shadow, shadows of white against white, barely discernable against the
backdrop until it moved.  And it did move.  So fast it seemed it was a phantom
in the wind, a blur.  She could make it out more clearly against the dark of
the snowmobile and Clayton's blankets, but it was still only a form.  Large and
hulking, but incredibly quick, it descended upon Clayton before he finished his
second scream.  And it finished it for him.

Clayton
disappeared behind the shadow and his screams became muffled, and then stopped
abruptly with a gurgle and a loud POP!  The shadow raised its head and in what
appeared to be its mouth, was Clayton's head.  His eyes bulging and staring at
Sarah, his mouth opened in a scream, it was connected to his body only by a
stream of blood.  Sarah looked down from it and found a fountain of red, a
stream spraying the snow in front of her.  It was Clayton's life force
polluting the pristine whiteness with its ugly color.

There
was a triumphant ululation in the wind just then, a sick glee.  The shadow
lowered its head and stared at Sarah, the corners of its huge toothy mouth
turned up in a smile.  Its eyes were an abyss, black and soulless.  Two lumps
of coal in a warped and twisted snowman, a snowman with the head of wolf.  A
wolf mutated by hatred and deviated into a gross exaggeration of anything it
might have resembled.  Then one of the black ovals closed in what seemed to be
a mocking wink, and then there was laughter in the wind.

Sarah
turned hard just then.  She had become cold with hatred and loathing.  She
raised the flare gun and pointed it at what she thought was the thing's chest
and pulled the trigger.  The flare was a brilliant light in the darkness of the
storm and Sarah squinted at it.  It stopped suddenly and was held there in the
air.  Then Sarah realized that it was buried in the chest of the shadow, and it
illuminated it in an unearthly glow of red.

Clayton's
head fell from its mouth and landed with a soft thud in the blood darkened
snow, his eyes staring blankly at the sky.  The shadow cried out in pain and it
blended with the wind, mixed with its already rancorous cry and became a part
of it.  Then the flare exploded and the shadow burst into flames, a human shaped
torch that emitted warmth that Sarah could feel from where she was.  In a
second it was gone, a darkened spot in the snow, a hole melted where it had
stood.

Sarah
punched the start button on her machine and it grumbled readily to life.  She
leaned forward over the handlebars and punched the throttle hard with her
thumb.  The Polaris lurched forward and shot ahead into the drift covered road
before her.  She felt the skis get light and even catch air as she cleared the
small ridge that had toppled her uncle's machine.

When
the skis again touched snow, the flare gun dislodged from her hand and bounced
down the side of the Polaris, lost in the snow.  Sarah cursed but didn't take
the time to look back.  Instead, she gripped the handlebars more firmly and
pushed the throttle to its limit.  The engine raced and its track threw up a
snow rooster tail that was caught by the wind and carried away.  Sarah could
feel herself pulling away from the evil, but there was something else.

There
was a new hatred in the air rushing past her ears, a hatred of her.  She felt
it as surely as she felt the evil that had decapitated Clayton.  She wasn't
quite sure how she knew it, but she knew that
they
were angry with her. 
And even angry didn't fully describe what she felt.  They were insane with
revenge, sick with desire, desire for her.  It was crazy, she knew, but she
could hear it in the wind.  They were coming for her.