The Winter People (8 page)

"Wasn't that
the Ranger Station Sher....uh…Hayden?"  Mike had asked quickly, his tone
stressing the fact that they had just passed it.

Hayden gave them
both a side long glance, "Yeah, but I thought I would buy you two boys a
drink."  His tone was soft, warm, and caring.  He knew what they must have
gone through tonight; he had been there himself nearly fifty years ago, then
again tonight.  He knew that he needed a stiff one at any rate. Nick snapped
out of his daze and looked over at Hayden.  Mike's mouth only formed the word
"oh" but said nothing.

 "Something's been bothering
me Hayden," Nick said, "Back there at the wreck you said that a rogue
bear had done it?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, it's
the middle of winter.  Aren't bears hibernating now?"  Mike also turned
his attention to Hayden.

"I'm afraid
that's an old wives tale, that bears sleep all winter.  The truth is that some
bears get up several times during the winter to eat.  There's something else
that I didn't tell you back there.  There was a gouge in the side of the Jeep. 
It looked like a bear claw mark.  And from the gaps between the grooves, it
looks like a big one," Hayden explained.

"No shit?! 
What kind of bear is it?"  Mikes eyes flashed and there was a strange look
on his face, a look of astonishment, wonder, and fear.

"From the
size, I think we're dealing with a Grizzly.  And now that he's tasted human
blood . . ." Hayden's voice trailed off.  He didn't even want to think
about the consequences.  A brief tremor rippled through him.  Mike nodded
slowly, understanding the significance of that.  Nick stared past Hayden,
thinking something entirely different.

He couldn't
explain the feelings he was getting, but he was positive that it wasn't a
bear.  Some primitive fear deep inside told him it was something else,
something that they were totally unprepared for.  This feeling was aided in
part, Nick thought, by the eerie storm they were caught in.  He had a horrible
sinking feeling about the storm as well.  That it was the predecessor to some
horror yet to come.

He could feel the
evil in the clouds that had engulfed them.  It was fluid and pulsating like a
living thing, a mass of intertwining tendrils miles long and eons old.  It had
conscious thought.  Nick looked up at the roof of the cab but saw beyond it. 
He looked up into the storm front and saw it looking back at him, laughing. 
And as if to verify this, the wind buffeted the Suburban just then.  Just for
Nick.

***

Sarah awoke with a
start, barely stifling a scream.  She sat bolt upright in bed, her hazel eyes
wide opened and wild.  Her long brown hair was matted to her forehead in wet
clumps and tangled in the back.  Her thin face and high cheekbones seemed
distorted in her panic.  The blankets that had been pulled up tight around her
head when she had first gone to bed were now twisted in knots and sweat soaked
at the foot of the bed.  She let out only a whimper and quickly raised her hand
to her mouth.  She didn't want to wake the others over some silly nightmare.

But, like so many
dreams do, this one faded quickly so that she couldn't even remember what it
was about.  The harder she tried, the further its content slipped away.  All
she could remember were bits and pieces.  Incoherent things that were even now
becoming more and more obscure.  She could remember that she and her brother
were being chased.  She couldn't remember what it was that was chasing them
though, but it was very bad and they were terrified of it.

Then it was only
her brother that was being chased and she didn't know why.  For some reason,
she thought that it was because she was dead, but she just couldn't remember. 
The next thing she could recall was a feeling rather than a thought, she
remembered extreme cold.  Cold like she had never known before.  A cold that
made her think of the grave.  She trembled, as much from the feeling as from
the fact that she had been sweating and had thrown off her covers.

Sarah pulled the
blankets back up around her and listened to the house.  It was deathly quiet
inside.  All of the others were sound asleep, she thought.  But it would be a
long while before she would be.  The wind hammered at her bedroom window and
whistled and whined around the eaves.  She lay there in the darkness trying to
recall the dream but its elements were already diffusing.  What she had
recalled only moments ago was already vague and nondescript.  Soon she would
recall nothing, only that she'd had a nightmare.

***

Barbara Smith
tossed and turned in her queen size bed.  She still slept, but in her sleep she
thrashed and murmured and gasped and squealed.  She was aware that Hayden had
left, lost somewhere in that state between full sleep and wakefulness.  The
phone, she remembered him answering the phone.  Then he was gone.  She had drifted
back to sleep almost instantly, and had thus begun her dream.  The nightmare in
which she was now embroiled.  The nightmare she would be unable to recall in
the morning.

Barbara saw a
man.  She knew it was Hayden, even though she did not have a clear image of him. 
He was lost in a world that was completely white.  No ups or downs or
dimensions of any kind.  He was alone there and she wanted to go to him but
couldn’t move.  Behind him there was suddenly a large mass, a dark shape like
that of a man but larger, much larger.  It was emerging from the white that
surrounded Hayden and he didn't see it.  She tried to scream out to him but she
couldn't.  She tried to warn him but he couldn’t hear her.

Then Hayden turned
around to see the dark form standing before him, towering over him.  She could
feel the dark thing's thoughts coursing through her as if they were her own. 
It was a jumble of emotions, delight, hunger, anger, satisfaction, and pain.  Beneath
all those feelings was something else, an underlying thought, or feeling, or
sensation; buried deep but, it was there and as real as the rest of the
impulses she was getting.

She had to
concentrate hard to pull in the innermost feeling of the dark thing, its face
beneath the face, its true identity.  When finally she did touch it, see it,
she gasped in horror.  She was staring into the face of pure evil.  It was a
thing without conscious, a thing that did not feel pity or remorse.  It was a
thing that lived on hate and grew darker with every passing day.  A thing that
she sensed would destroy Hayden, a thing that was already among them.

***

The wiper blades
drummed out a tempo to the tire chains and wind like a metronome, a strange
symphony that tried to lull Mike to sleep.  He stared out at the wipers and
watched them push assault after assault of driving snow from the windshield. 
His head would grow heavy and droop then he would jerk it upward violently,
blinking several times.  But the jerks got less violent and the blinks longer
in duration.  Finally, he lightly dozed off into a memory.

Mike waved to his
sister as she disappeared around the corner.  She left him standing at the curb
in front of "the guys" house, knee deep in ski gear.  Mike was
excited.  Ever since Nick had called him, he'd been anxious.  Granted, he
didn't ski nearly as well as Nick and not even close to Mo and The Tails, but a
road trip with the guys.  It was just what he needed.  That and a Blake's
Lottaburger with green chile.  He laughed to himself.

Since Mike had
moved to So. Cal. he discovered that he missed only a few things.  He missed
his family, his friends, Albuquerque in general, and Blake's Lottaburger.  He
knew deep down that he would return to Albuquerque to live.  It was just where
he wanted to be.  But he needed to get his career going first.  And save up
some money.

His was a close
knit Catholic family and he was the youngest of six.  And up until he moved
away six months ago, they all had Sunday dinner together.  Now, he came home at
every opportunity, and his parents still complained that he didn't spend enough
time with them.  Which was probably true, he always ended up spending more time
with his friends.  But come on, there was only so much family togetherness a
guy could take.

So Mike spent most
of his time back home with Nick and Taylor, sometimes Mo, but usually Nick. 
Nick was probably his best friend.  They'd roomed together for several years
and had been friends for several years longer.  They suited each other and Mike
really liked being around him.  Nick was boisterous while he was soft-spoken. 
Nick was outgoing while he was rather shy.  Too shy, Mike thought.  But, they
were a pair.  They agreed on practically everything except music.  Somehow
though, they always found a happy medium.

And, Nick loved
Blake's.  They had the best burgers in the world and you could only get them in
New Mexico.  Throw some green chile on one with cheese, and you had a classic. 
Now, every time Mike came home to visit, he had to have a Blake's fix.  Mike's
stomach grumbled at that thought and he decided he needed one before they went
out tonight.

He turned toward
the house and started to drag his belongings up the walk.  The place looked the
same.  Even the same old Silly String in the juniper bush from the fight they'd
had at his going away party.  Mike smiled.  It was probably from another fight,
it was one of their favorite toys.  Then his smile faded.  He thought about
Nick being married.

He still couldn't
believe it, boom, bam, thank you ma'am.  In a few months Nick would no longer
be Nick.  He would be Mr. and Mrs. Nick.  Mike wondered how it was going to
change his relationship with Nick, how it would change Nick.  He was happy for
him, no doubt.  The whole reason for dudedom is babedom, but you never really
expect it.  Mike sighed.  A long, thoughtful sigh then rang the bell.

***

The Suburban
jogged from a particularly strong gust of wind and jolted Mike out of his
doze.  He looked over at Nick and found him staring out the windows at the
sky.  Not that he could see anything up there.  The darkness that surrounded
them was complete.  But, you still knew it was there.  He seemed wrapped up in
his own world and not the best for conversation just then.  And Mike didn't
want to doze off again, he needed a distraction.

So Nick was out,
and Sheriff Hayden had been morose ever since they had talked about the bear. 
Probably deep in thought about something else, Mike guessed.  Mike shrugged,
reached forward, and turned the knob on the radio.  Its face glowed with a pale
green and all he heard was static.  His hand moved quickly to the other knob
and began indiscriminately flipping the dial around.  He could hear faint
voices drowned in static fade in and out, but nothing more.

Hayden spoke up
then, "Radio doesn't work too well up here, all the mountains around us. 
TV’s no good either, unless you got a satellite dish.  No cell phones either. 
We all use either land lines or radios.  But the only radio that will get out
of this valley is at the Ranger Station, because of the tower.  Try the glove
box; I think I've got a CD or two."  Almost as an after thought,
"Hope you like country?"  Hayden smiled briefly.  It was the first
smile that Mike had seen him give.  It was warm and did tremendous things to
soften his chiseled face.  Mike decided that he liked Hayden's smile.

"Thanks. 
Anything's fine.  I just need some background noise to help me stay
awake."  Mike began rifling through the glove box until he came across
three CD cases.  He pulled them out and held each one on turn up to the glow
from the radio so that he could make out its label.  Tom T. Hall.  Tom T. Hall
and Fats Domino.  Mike chuckled in spite of himself.  Suddenly, Hayden Smith
reminded him of his own dad.

Mike decided that
as soon as he got home he was going to do something with his father, anything. 
He looked over at Hayden who was looking at him, and smiled.  "I'm not
making fun of you," he explained, "it's just that these remind me of
something my dad would have in his car.  Something I would give him a hard time
about."  Hayden only nodded.  Mike picked a Tom T. Hall and pushed it into
the slot.  After a moment, old Tom began singing about, "Old dogs, and
children, and watermelon wine."

"Good choice
Mike, I always liked that one best."  Hayden's smile was genuine and it
filled Mike with warmth.

"Yeah, my dad
listens to it all the time too," he smiled back.  Then, he missed his
father tremendously all of the sudden.  He sighed and began to sing along with
Tom T., under his breath.  Beside him he could hear Hayden do the same.  So the
two men rode on singing in unison with old Tom.  Both a little out of tune, but
neither one cared.

Nick sat there
sullen, oblivious to what was going on next to him.  His face was cold where he
had held it against the glass, but he was heedless of that too.  The window had
fogged from the heat of his body next to it and the world was a blur through
it.  Nick didn't care.  He could see what was beyond it anyway.  He knew things
would get much worse before they got better, much worse indeed.  And as if to
verify that thought, it began to snow.

***

Route 14 twisted
and curved through pine and aspen, then cleared a knoll to drop into the tiny
community of Copper Creek.  It sat pretty much at the base of Mt. Sand, along
side the frozen river called, appropriately enough, Copper Creek.  The mountain
that towered two thousand feet above the town to its northwest was lost in the
gloom of the winter tempest.  The town itself was nearly nine thousand feet
above sea level and looked like any one of a hundred such Colorado mining
towns.

The storm however,
kept them from seeing the angular rooftops and alpine buildings.  Yet, they
knew they were there just the same.  In the torrents of white that obscured
their vision they could make out a few of the brightest lights in town.  Other
than that, only a glow in the haze marked its existence.  As they pulled into
town on the one main street, Nick and Mike could barely make out dark forms in
the driven powder, forms that they assumed to be the shops and stores of Copper
Creek.

Nick could picture
them in the daytime, all very picturesque and quaint.  He could see the tin
roofs glistening in the sun and all of the old weathered storefronts
whitewashed and peeling.  Some of them with covered wooden porches along the
street and a few large brick buildings, none of them very modern.  He figured
nothing totally new had been built here in twenty years, and was probably
correct.  There would not be one single fast food place or trendy shop.  It had
the feel of a town out of its proper time.

Ahead they could
see the amber flashing of the town's only traffic light, but they had passed
under it nearly as soon as they had seen it.  Visibility was non-existent. 
Nick rubbed a hole in the frost of his window with the sleeve of his coat and
looked out.  The town seemed unreal, dreamlike in the storm.  It was a ghost
town.  Appropriate he thought, bemused.  Mike and Hayden had quit trying to
sing with Tom and just let him play it solo.  At a distance, Nick could hear
him crooning out, ". . . one night I did dream, that I passed from this
scene, on to a world so sublime. . ."

"Boy!  You
can't see your hand in front of your face!"  Mike had finally broken the
silence with his observation.

"Yeah, it's
really coming down out there.  Going to be a bad one, that's for sure." 
Hayden was holding tightly onto the steering wheel, pulling himself up to it. 
His face was nearly against the windshield and the wheel was against his chest,
his breath formed two small fog patches in circles extending from each nostril
that quickly dissipated, to be replaced by his next respiration.

Nick looked out
his window and watched the side streets disappear into the void at the edge of
his vision.  He counted a total of seven streets before the main road they were
on abruptly ceased at the far end of town.  It ended in a parking lot in front
of a large two story building where they came to a stop.

"Yeah, Copper
Creek is little more than a wide spot in the road.  Or should I say, at the end
of the road?"  Hayden was looking at Nick who was unaware that he'd been
counting the streets aloud.

Nick blushed,
"Oh, sorry.  I've just been off in my own little world."  Nick had
surprised himself at first then he was curious.  "What's that building in
front of us?" Nick said, pointing to the dark hulking figure, a single
light on above the entrance?

"That's our
County Courthouse, so to speak.  It's really just an old hotel that's been
converted.  Upstairs are the government offices, such as they are.  Down below
is our jail.  We've only got one cell and have never had much cause to use it. 
An occasional drunk and disorderly, that's about it."