Bitter Cold (19 page)

TWENTY-SEVEN

JEFF USED A WINDOW in the garage to get a surreptitious view of his front porch. No way would he just walk right into a trap. It could have been anyone at the front door, claiming to be cops. When he spotted Tommy Jenkins of the Rainier Police Department, he felt every muscle in his body unwind.

“It’s okay,” he told April. She waited in the kitchen. “It’s Jenkins.”

The second Logan opened the door, Amy flung herself onto Jenkins and wept, screaming for her parents. Jenkins stood stiff, bewildered. Finally, April pulled her away.

“She’s been through a lot in the last few hours,” she said. “There’s some really fucked up shit going on out here. Do you realize we were just shot at?” the clipped beat of helicopter blades rolled through the distant hillsides. “You hear that? Those people shot at us. The NWP helicopter. All to cover up the fact that there’s a monster loose out here. And because you’re either too stupid or too goddam pig-headed, you refuse to even investigate.”

Jenkins stared at her. “Lady, I believe you.”

She stopped cold, blinking.

“You do?”

Jenkins glanced at Jeff, then at the hysterical teenage girl leaning against April’s shoulder. “Your story stuck in my head. And something down there at the bottom of that canyon just didn’t feel right, so I went to the hospital to see the boy and, and…”

“He’s dead,” April lost all emotion, as frozen as the forest.

“Dead?” Jeff stared at her. His pulse went wild. “What’re you talking about? He died from losing a foot? How do you know?”

“I called the hospital. They wouldn’t go into exact causes of death. Said he had a seizure, but he didn’t die from a seizure. He died because some hired NWP killer went in there and snuffed him out.

“I told you,” Jeff aimed his scorn at Jenkins. Jenkins, the small-town cop who thought he’d seen it all. Jenkins, the savvy veteran of fifteen years who’d accused Jeff and April of making everything up.

“
We
told you,” April corrected him, her narrow-eyed scrutiny fixed on the officer.

“Listen,” Jenkins said. “You’ve got to put yourself in my shoes. Your story sounded absolutely nuts. Then you call me out to the highway with that other wild tale. It was too much. But it wouldn’t get out of my mind. I mean, why would you two go to such extremes to make something like that up?”

“And you saw it, didn’t you?” April asked. “Why didn’t you do something sooner?”

“I don’t know what I saw,” Jenkins corrected. “And I
did
do something. I started thinking about that tow truck driver.”

“That lying son of a bitch,” April snarled.

“Yeah, well, I thought he was acting a little funny, so I went to Clatskanie and, damnest thing…”

“What!” both Jeff and April said simultaneously.

“He’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Disappeared. Truck and all. Girlfriend hasn’t seen him. She’s going nuts. Grampy, the owner of the tow truck company, he hasn’t seen him, either. He’s going nuts. This is weird. This is all getting really, really weird.”

He looked over the tree line, then back to April and Jeff.

“So, where’s your backup?” April sounded serious. “Where are the dozen cop cars that should be surrounding that goddam nuclear plant and hauling those criminals to jail?”

“Just calm down, would you?” he raised his palms.

“Calm down! How can you tell us to calm down? Kids, get into the Blazer,” she pointed at the Police SUV. Logan and Amy hesitated. Jeff nodded once.

“Wait a minute,” Jenkins protested. “I don’t advise going anywhere right now. You’d be best off just going back inside and waiting this out. The snowstorm
and
the troubles with NWP. If there really is some kind of creature out there, I’m gonna go find it.”

“NO!” April advanced toward him. “You can’t go out there. Please, call someone else. Get some backup.”

He chuckled. “Look around you. This storm has taken all the available resources. Everybody’s out dealing with emergencies. Besides, what am I gonna say? There’s some sort of shadow in the snow attacking people? You tell me how that’s not gonna make me the asshole of the century. You don’t know how bad these guys can ridicule.”

April opened the Blazer’s tailgate. “Get in,” she pointed at the big bench seat. Jenkins tried to intervene, and Jeff got in his way.

“We’re leaving. Now. You’re taking us out. Those assholes in that helicopter fired at us. I don’t care if you believe in snow monsters or not. We’re not gonna spend another minute up here. You got that? Let’s go.”

The kids piled in and bouncing upright. The cop stood next to his SUV and glared at Jeff. He signaled his consent by pulling open the door and stepping in. Then he stopped and turned south, lifting an ear to the sound of distinct, rhythmic thumping. The helicopter was coming closer.

Jeff insisted April sit in front, the shotgun position. She agreed. He needed to be with his son, and she needed to be close to Jenkins so she could give him as many details as possible.

“You okay?” he asked Amy.

“Y-yeah,” the girl forced a smile. “I guess. I just don’t know what’s happening.”

“We’re going to get you out of here. First and foremost is your safety,” he looked at Logan, then at April. “Everybody’s safety.”

April struggled visibly to look calm. “You act like you’ve done this before.”

TWENTY-EIGHT

APRIL HUDDLED INSIDE her jacket and waited for Jenkins to get in the truck. She sensed the motion and her heart fluttered. She swallowed, staring with wide eyes at the bottom of the window, where falling snowflakes collected in tiny, frozen flecks on the glass.

At first she attributed it to fatigue. She hadn’t slept more than a few unsettled minutes in the last 24 hours. Her tired mind wished it wasn’t there, but it was. Darkness. Invading slowly, surreptitiously. It started in one corner and spread in a rivulet along the bottom, flowing like liquid. Then it began to infect the ice crystals speckling the window. The first few, it took slowly. After it got a foothold, it crept up, stepping from one bit of frost to the next, creating a thin webbing, a network of dark veins encompassing each frozen molecule on the entire sheet of glass.

The snow blanketing the mirror turned black, then the hood. Then it poured from the roof, first in thin slices, then a large, shapeless mass spread over the windshield.

She opened her mouth to scream, but her throat didn’t function. All she could do was let out a breathy wheeze, enough to capture Amy’s eye.

“Oh my GOD!” the teenager shrieked, setting her and Logan off in a frenzy of terror. Jenkins only reacted by looking at them with an annoyed expression, oblivious to the creature.

“Jenkins!” Jeff ordered. “Get in! Let’s go! NOW!”

Jenkins flashed the same look at him. “What’s your pro…blem..?”

His jaw dropped, eyes widening to the point of bursting. The black snow had reached his side of the Blazer. His gaze swept across the top of the vehicle, all the way to the back. He gasped as he looked at the ground, under the vehicle, to his left, his right, then directly at his feet.

 “Son of a BITCH!” he slipped on the icy ground and caught the seat cover, pulling himself in. In a rapid motion, he sat and slammed the door. He breathed hard and surveyed the black veins encircling the Blazer.

“What the fuck is that!”

“Start the truck, Jenkins!” Jeff implored him. “Start the truck!”

He fumbled with the keys in the ignition, unable to keep his hand steady. The children screamed for him to hurry. It only made him tremble harder.

“For Christ’s sake!” April leaned over, gripped the key, and gave it a firm turn. The strong V8 engine rumbled to life.

“Come on!” Amy shouted from the backseat.

Jenkins put the transmission into drive and hit the accelerator, turning the steering wheel to the left. Instead of moving forward, the vehicle shifted sideways a few inches, stopped, then sank. It seemed stuck deep. April thought they’d gone under, but when she peeked through one of the only gaps left in the blackness, she could tell they were still above the ground. Images of McCullah sinking into the creature’s enigmatic jaws made her shudder. She knew the same fate waited for her. Only this time, she’d be swallowed whole instead of bit by bit.

The roof creaked and popped.

BAM!

A dent the size of a fist pounded into the sheet metal above Amy’s head. She jumped over in the seat and pushed Logan into his father.

SMASH!

Another indentation, even bigger.

“Do something!” April tested the limits of her vocal chords.

Jenkins blinked rapidly, then hit the gas again. The Blazer only seemed to sink deeper into the deadly morass. April saw the black surface, inches from the bottom of the window.

“We’re gonna die!” she cried.

“No we’re not,” Jenkins slammed the shifter to the lowest setting and stepped on it. The engine roared so loud, April had to cover her ears. The Chevy lunged forward, but only made it a couple feet. Then it got caught on something. Not to be deterred, he jammed it in reverse and tried again. The rig moved a little and stopped. Without pause, he slammed the automatic transmission back into drive and hit it once more. Again the truck heaved forward, again only a few feet. It was a few feet more than the first time, though, which gave April at least a little hope.

That thought evaporated when the truck’s front end dipped down hard. The blackness pulled them in, creating enough forward momentum to suck the SUV under.

“Hold on!” Jenkins ordered over the shrieks, grinding it into low gear. He stomped on the gas pedal and the engine howled at the sudden gush of fuel, working hard, adding tremendous torque to the driveshaft. April could tell the tires wanted to spin so badly, but the shadowy snow held a firm grip. They didn’t budge.

Jenkins let off the gas, shifted, and hit it again. He was relentless on the accelerator, gritting his teeth, knuckles white on the wheel. This time the 4X4 jerked back. “Come on, baby!” he pleaded. The powerful motor responded, breaking loose from the monster’s grasp, and thrusting them in reverse out of the vicious morass.

Jenkins slammed on the brakes, but the icy driveway refused to let them stop. Their momentum brought them up the front steps of Jeff’s house, ramming the support columns on the porch. The Blazer’s back end crushed in and the tailgate flew open.

CRASH!

The porch cover came down. Amy screamed, pointing outside. The blackness was heading to the house, spreading along the driveway, the lawn, and front walk.

“Come on!” Logan vaulted over the backseat through the open tailgate. He reached and helped Amy get through.

Jenkins tried to open his door, but somehow the dark snow had it sealed closed. He looked at April, then at the Plexiglas partition between the front and back seats. He reached and slid the small door as wide as it would go. He glanced down at himself. He knew there was no way he would fit through that opening. She saw it in his face.

“You better get!”

“How are
you
gonna get out?” she said breathlessly.

“Don’t worry about me! Just go!”

April stepped on the seat and he shoved her through the small portal in the plastic wall. It scraped her hips, yet she managed to squeeze to the other side and fall into the backseat. From there, Jeff grabbed her hand and got her upright. He tugged her again, desperate to get her out of there. She wouldn’t budge.

“He needs help!” she pointed to Jenkins.

The windshield curved in. The glass fragmented into minuscule shards. It held its integrity, but April knew it wouldn’t hold long. The officer stared, mesmerized.

“Jenkins! Come on!” Jeff shouted.

“No!” he waved without turning, studying the black crisscross patterns in the windshield. The ceiling caved in even more. The entire front cab dropped three feet. The SUV pitched like it was going off a cliff.

“Yes!” April reached through the partition and clutched his jacket collar. She knew she couldn’t pull him into the backseat by herself. She tried, anyway. Jeff crawled over and helped, grabbing one hand while she took the other. Jenkins alternated between them both, pleading with his eyes as they struggled with his girth. He wasn’t an obese man, but large enough.

The windshield popped, bowing in more and more. April thought it would burst at any moment. Jenkins groaned. His sides scratched against the sharp plastic edges. People, especially a man of his size, weren’t meant to go through that little hole. That was painfully clear. But, with April and Jeff yanking on his arms, they managed to get him halfway.

The windshield collapsed with a
CRASH!
Shattered glass inundated the front cab, a mist of sticky, dark ooze. A large cluster of black snow fell in, covering the steering wheel, the dashboard, the seat, and Jenkins’s legs.

“NOOOOO!” his agonized cry made April tighten her grip. He stiffened in her hands, making tight fists and clenching his jaw, while squeezing his eyelids closed. She remembered McCullah. He had the same paralyzed look, as if in a state of extreme pain, yet not able or willing to express it.

“Pull dammit!”

“Guys,” Jenkins was emotionless.

“Work with us,” Jeff ignored him. “Come on, Jenkins, push!”

Jenkins jerked back. “Guys,” his tone remained stoic.

Jeff pulled with even more desperation. “No, goddammit! You’re not giving up! NO!”

The stench overwhelmed April’s throat, forcing her into a coughing fit. She swallowed hard and pushed the burning down, but only for the moment, only long enough to see Jenkins’ face, pressed against the Plexiglas. His dead stare went right through her.

“Run,” he squeaked.

“No!” she rejected his order. “We won’t let you go!”

He clenched his teeth. “Get out!”

Jeff shook his head, his jaw hanging. Then the cop slipped out of their clutches. Amy screeched through her hands. The kids were peeking from behind the front door.

Jeff barked, “Get inside!”

The Blazer rocked violently as Jenkins vanished. A blood-curdling cry sliced through the frigid morning. Immediately, shudders blasted down April’s spine.

She put her hands on the divider and tried to look up front. The sweltering smoke and terrible smell made her head spin. She had to lean back to keep from passing out. Black snow crept up the back of the driver’s seat, given a path by the flakes pouring in through the shattered windshield.

Jeff pulled the Plexiglas door closed.

“I-I think he’s gone.”

“NO! Jenkins!”

A dark mass slammed against the plastic, driving both April and Jeff back the seat. April shielded her eyes, but still had to look. She hated what she saw. Jenkins looked worse than McCullah. The top of his head had been sheared off, leaving his cranial cavity exposed, a thick, greyish-pink discharge quivering in the gaping wound. It looked like Jell-O slipping from its mold. His arms were still intact, mostly. He had no fingers on the left hand. A thumb, no fingers. His right hand looked fine, clinging to the partition, gripping the round ventilation holes. His mouth twitched open and closed, forming words, but not making a sound beyond a faint gurgling. Then a rippling streamer of blackness caught and pulled him into the fog again, smoldering with the stench of death.

The metal ceiling began to cave, crunching and crinkling.

SMASH!

One of the rear windows burst inward. Then another. Slivers of glass peppered both Jeff and April, bringing in the black snow. April saw steam rising from Jeff’s jacket. The creature’s rancid digestive juices went to work. She knew he needed to get the coat off, but they had to escape the vehicle before the whole thing collapsed on them like a soda can.

Dark clumps fell in through the broken windows, landing on the seat next to them. Heavy snowfall came into the vehicle from every direction. When the flakes landed, blackness hurried to overtake them, using the accumulation as a pathway.

He pushed her through the tailgate. Logan helped her get out. Amy stood in the doorway, shell-shocked.

“I told you, GO INSIDE!” Jeff screamed.

Logan was defiant. “No WAY! I’m helping!”

Jeff gave up and offered April and Logan his hands. They each took one and pulled. The blackness closed in, using the thin layer of snow building up on the backseat. It attached to his steaming coat, blistering through the outer layer of tough, tan material. By the time they had him on his feet, his jacket was mostly eaten away. Eyes wide, he took a startled breath and reached to peel it off.

“Don’t touch it!” April was too late.

He grabbed the collars and pulled.

A sickening sizzle, like frying an egg. Then the stench. Jeff dropped the jacket and stood motionless, staring at his hands, his fingertips smoldering. April examined the damage. It was bad, fingers charred to a crispy mess, skin crumbling and exposing a pink and white layer of fat and muscle. He shivered, holding his hands close to his chest.

Then the dark snow fully engulfed the Blazer and began sliding it toward the house.

“Come on! Get inside!” she forced Jeff in and Logan slammed the door.

“Dad! What’s wrong! Dad!” he reached for his father’s hands. Jeff growled and pulled them even tighter to his body, breathing fast and heavy. Logan looked at April. “What happened? Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” she said.

A terrible
Crash!
forced them away from the door. Logan looked out the window at the porch.

“Logan! Get back!” April commanded.

Jeff managed to tear his focus from his wound. “Goddammit! Logan! Get away from there!”