Cold (44 page)

Norman slipped away from his brother and the other kids in the neighborhood as often as possible, and only when he was sure he wasn’t being followed he’d go to his cave.
 
Sometimes he knew Warren was following him and he’d lead him through the woods—the worst parts, like the marsh below White Heron Lake or across the old train trestle.
 
He’d led Warren in a big circle through the woods, one that would make sure he was muddy and bug-bitten by the time he was lead back to their neighborhood on the west edge of town.
 
There, Norman would buy a Coke at Swede’s Corner Store, sit on the brick steps and wait.
 
His brother always showed up exhausted and angry.

And once, when he was leading Warren through the woods, Norman decided to play dead, the game they’d been playing since they were small.
 
Usually in the house or the yard, often in the snow during the winter, they’d wrestle and fight until one of them would suddenly be killed.
 
And if you were killed you had to stay still and dead long enough for your brother to start to have doubts.
 
Norman was walking along a ridge when he slipped; he let himself fall down the slope, rolling over and over through the brush.
 
When he stopped he hit his head against a rock and for a while he was dizzy, but it passed.
 
He was covered with dirt and twigs and he was lying motionless on his side.
 
He could hear his brother at the top of the ridge and he remained still for a long time.
 
Finally, his brother came down the slope, digging his heels in and sending pebbles and dirt ahead of him, until he stood above Norman.
 
All right,
Warren said,
You can get up now.
 
I know you’re faking it.
 
Norman didn’t move.
 
After a moment, he was prodded in the armpit with Warren’s foot.
 
He kept his eyes closed and, as Warren continued to poke him, he kept his mind on one thing:
 
the view through the twigs and leaves from inside his cave.
 
And finally Warren stopped and said,
You didn’t go and hit your head, did you?
 
Norman didn’t move.
 
All right, come on, that’s enough.
 
Then, as Warren knelt down and leaned close, Norman opened his eyes wide, and for just one moment he saw real shock, genuine fear in Warren’s face.
 
Norman screamed
Got ya!

When his shovel struck something hard, Norman leaned over and carefully scraped dirt away with the inverted tip of the shovel, exposing green and brown camouflage fabric and pale bone.
 
He whispered, “Got ya.”

•

Noel wasn’t used to the steering in the Land Cruiser, but the four-wheel drive made it feel as though the big tires were gripping down through the new snow.
 
When she realized that she’d taken a sharp bend in the road too fast she turned the wheel so hard that the rear end swung free and she was gliding sideways down the narrow road.
 
It was a complete whiteout now and the high banks on each side disappeared into the snow only a few yards ahead of her.
 
There was the sensation of being totally adrift, of lacking any purchase—visible or physical—in the world.
 
She wanted to slow down—the Land Cruiser, her body, her thoughts—and she felt an oath forming in her mind that if she could just escape this whiteness she would vow to change everything.
 
Nothing would be the same again.
 
It had all been wrong up until now, but here in this whiteout she saw what needed to be done to make it right.
 
Cutting the wheel the other way, she felt some control return, and she tapped the brake pedal.
 
The rear tires caught and dragged so that she was beginning to straighten out when the Jeep emerged from the whiteness.
 
She took a deep breath and, dropping one hand off the steering wheel, threw her arm across Lorraine’s chest.

•

Del slung the crossbow over his shoulder and walked down the ridge and across the footbridge.
 
He had seen plenty of fires in sub-zero weather.
 
Buildings, houses, barns.
 
Old wood burned hot and fast, especially when fanned by high winds.
 
Often firemen would give up on the structure and devote their efforts on containment.
 
Nearby houses and buildings would be hosed down, encased in protective ice.
 
The fire had created its own black hole in the woods.
 
The snow around the smoldering shed was black; the column of smoke was black; the timbers were all black.
 
And finally the shed’s two-by-four framing collapsed in on itself, revealing its black pearl:
 
a small charred figure, curled in on itself, with one crooked arm raised in the air, beckoning.

Tracks led from the fire to the woods—and occasionally he found long glistening strands of blood that hadn’t quite been covered by new snow.
 
If it were Norman’s body in the fire, they would have returned to the lodge.
 
Norman must be injured, and Pronovost, who had the 9mm, was following him on foot.
 
Warren was behind both of them on snowshoes and he had Del’s .38 Smith and Wesson.

Del had two quarrels in his quiver.

•

It wasn’t like before with Harold and Gretchen.
 
There was no anticipation, no watching a green truck climb the hill toward the narrow bridge.

In a whiteout you don’t see it coming.

Liesl didn’t know how long she’d been on her side in the passenger seat of the Jeep.
 
She was afraid to try to move.
 
When they’d hit the truck there was the sound of buckling metal, breaking glass.
 
She’d felt the shock in her bones, her spine, but now, semiconscious, she wondered if she might be paralyzed.
 
There was hardly any feeling.
 
She only knew she was lying against her door, and something was dripping on her forehead and running down off her nose.
 
The snow sounded like hard pellets striking the chassis of the Jeep.
 
Turning her head, she saw Monty above her, hanging in his seatbelt.
 
She was reminded of an image her father used to mention whenever he talked about the Normandy Invasion in World War II:
 
dead paratroopers suspended from trees by their parachute harnesses.
 
The skin above Monty’s left eye had been torn away, revealing bone, and it was his blood that was dripping onto her scalp and running down her forehead.
 
But he was breathing.

She picked up the Roadmaster microphone—it still worked—and she pushed redial.
 
A man answered on the second ring.

“Leo Warra?”

“Ya?
 
Who’s this?”

“My name’s Tiomenen and I’m with Monty Price—we’ve just had an accident.”

“You hurt?”

“I’m not sure.
 
Monty’s out but he’s breathing.
 
He hit his head.”

“Where are you?”

“County Road 187, heading toward Laughing Pike Road.
 
We’re in his Jeep and it’s tipped on its side.”

“I’ll be out, if I can get through,” Leo said.
 
“But it’s going to be a while.”

“All right,” she said.
 
He hung up.

She moved her left arm, found her buckle and released her seatbelt.
 
Reaching up she held Monty’s shoulder.
 
He opened his eyes a moment and she could tell he was dazed.
 
She decided to leave him strapped in, fearing that moving him might cause further injury.
 
“Monty.
 
Listen to me.
 
I’m going out there to see who we hit.
 
Monty, you
hear
me?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll be back.
 
Leo Waara’s coming out.”

The windshield was a constellation of cracks and it had popped its seal on her side.
 
With her elbow she pushed at the windshield.
 
It made a loud crackling sound and she leaned back, expecting the whole thing to fall in on her.
 
But it didn’t, and with a few more nudges she realized that the glass was oddly flexible; slowly, she curled it back enough for her to crawl out alongside the hood of the Jeep, the metal still warm.
 
The wreckage blocked the wind and she was tempted to stay put, but when her legs were free of the vehicle, she lay on her back and caught her breath.
 
The pain in her right ribs kept her from inhaling deeply.
 
Getting to her feet, she realized that her right shoulder seemed locked and she wondered if something was dislocated or broken.
 
She looked at the other vehicle, which was angled up on to the snowbank, and realized it was Del’s Land Cruiser.
 
The driver’s door was collapsed as though a large bite had been taken out of the cab and metal had punctured the left front tire.
 
She walked around the Jeep and climbed up so she could see in the driver’s window.
 
A young woman lay across the seats.
 
Short blond hair covered her eyes.

“Noel?”

Noel seemed to be trying to see through that hair, see something under the dashboard.
 
Then there was the slightest movement to her battered lips.

Liesl noticed that a tiny hand was clutching Noel’s coat collar.
 
The fingers squeezed the fabric, and for the first time Liesl understood that there was a child trapped beneath Noel.

She made her way to the front of the Land Cruiser and climbed up to the top of the snowbank, and then worked her way over to the passenger door.
 
Opening the door she almost fell in on top of them.
 
She knelt down, took off her gloves and brushed the hair back off Noel’s face.
 
Her blue eyes were open, staring with determination.
 
Something about her mouth wasn’t right.

“Can you hear me?
 
Noel?”

“Take her,” she whispered.

“We’ll get you both out of here.”
 
Liesl knew she didn’t sound very convincing.

“No.
 
Just take her.”
 
Blood trickled out of the lower corner of her mouth.
 
“Before she starts to get cold.
 
Please just keep my baby warm.”
 

Liesl pulled one glove off and placed her hand on Noel’s forehead.
 
She gently smoothed her hair so that it swung off to the side.
 
Something in Noel’s eyes told her that right now it was important to just have someone touch her.

“There’s one thing,” Noel said.

“What one thing?”

“That I didn’t tell Norman.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s what he came out here for.
 
It was my idea, and I’m sorry.
 
I am sorry.”

“What idea?
 
Noel?”

“Please just take her.
 
Please.”

“All right,” Liesl said.
 
“I’ll take her and go for help.
 
How far is it to the lodge?”
 
Noel didn’t seem to hear her.
 
“Del—is he still tied up there?”

Noel whispered something that Liesl couldn’t hear over the wind.
 
She leaned closer.
 
“He’s gone—after them.”

“Where?
 
Gone where?”

“Out there.”

“Where?”

Noel appeared to be considering the questions when some tension in her face let go.
 
It seemed such a simple transition.
 
Liesl removed a glove and put her hand on Noel’s throat.
 
Nothing.

Beneath Noel, the girl moved.
 
Her hair was fine and a lighter shade than her mother’s; and it was longer, with soft curls falling out of a red wool cap.
 
Her face was hidden beneath Noel’s coat.
 
Liesl reached in with her left arm, took hold of Noel’s shoulder and pushed her toward the dashboard, causing the girl to cry out weakly.

“It’s all right, sweetheart,” Liesl whispered.
 
“I’m going to get you out of here.”

She took the girl by the shoulders and tried to pull her out from beneath her mother’s body.
 
The girl was crying now, and Liesl keep cooing and whispering to her as she worked the girl free of the weight on her.
 
The effort was hard on Liesl’s back and, though she could use her right arm, she knew there was something wrong with the shoulder.
 
The girl’s legs were caught, so Liesl repositioned herself, leaned further into the vehicle and gave Noel’s body another shove, causing her legs to fall heavily on the floor.

“Mommy!”

Liesl pulled the girl out of the Land Cruiser.
 
“It’s all right, sweetheart.”