Phantom Frost

by Alfred Wurr

  “Sure,” Scott agreed. “You take shotgun. This isn’t a taxi. Come on, those sirens are getting closer.”

  “I don’t know,” Lucy, the group’s mother hen, said as Caleb rounded the front of the car, his face a mask of relief.

  “It’s cool, Luce,” Caleb said, getting into the front seat.

  “Oh, it’s cool?” she said, rolling her eyes. “Well, all right, then. Why didn’t you say so?”

  “I’ll keep him safe,” Scott assured her, revving the engine. “When you tell them what happened, leave out the stuff that sounds insane. See you all soon.”

  Without waiting for further discussion, Scott punched the accelerator. As we drove away, flames appeared in the windows of the neighbouring houses—set alight, I presumed, by wayward fireballs during the attack. The occupants could be seen fleeing out the front doors of their homes, distraught and dishevelled. Across the street, more neighbours were stepping out their front doors, pointing at the burning houses in alarm.

  Scott turned on the windshield wipers as we drove away, clearing the snow that had accumulated as it sat idling. He left them oscillating as the snow continued to slowly fall. Caleb held his hand out the window, catching a few flakes on his outstretched palm. “I’ve never seen snow before,” he said, studying his hand. “Did you do this, Shivurr?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” I said from the back seat. Tired and thirsty after the battle and emotionally drained, I lay back in my seat and stared out the window as we drove away. As we turned east, a half block on, several fire trucks, red lights flashing and sirens blaring, passed us by going the opposite direction.

  Chapter 17

  Never Heard of Her

  I woke standing upright in complete darkness, disoriented, surrounded by a persistent hum and flow of chilly air blowing from unseen fans that rattled somewhere close by. I stumbled forward cautiously, unable to see my hand in front of my face. Something fell over with a crash as I moved. I stumbled over it, shouting. My outstretched hands smacked hard against a cold metal surface. I kept my feet, but my nose hit the obstruction hard enough to make my eyes water. Shaking my head, I ran my hands along the surface, trying to identify it.

  A door, I thought, remembering as the last vestiges of sleep washed away.

  I leaned against it, but it refused to move. I pounded the stainless steel with sweaty palms, feeling flushed.

  I’m locked in, I thought, biting my lip. Easy, Shivurr, I thought, take your time; think it through.

  Taking a deep breath, I ran my hands over the surface feeling for a door handle or latch and smiled as my right hand encountered a large rubber knob. I pushed it hard and the door swung wide, revealing a small kitchen.

  The kitchen was quiet, illuminated by only the light coming from the round window of a swinging door on my right. A few deep fryers sat cold and empty next to a small stove and oven. I glanced back and saw packages of frozen hamburger buns lying on the floor of the freezer that I’d just left. I picked them up and restacked them, then pushed the door shut with a click. Smacking my hands together, I strode to the nearby door, pushed it open, and walked through.

  “What do you mean, you’ve never heard of her?” Scott was saying as I entered. He bobbed his head at me in greeting, then looked away, stretching the long coiled cord behind him.

  Fully awake now, I remembered that we were in a video arcade on the other side of town. It was closed to the public for the rest of the month. The proprietor—a friend of Scott’s—had left on vacation days earlier and had entrusted him with the key. His friend did not, as Scott put it, trust his employees to not rob him blind or burn it to the ground while he was away, so he opted to shut it down instead. Apparently, it was a slow time of the year and business wouldn’t pick up again for a few weeks anyway.

  Most of the machines were off, as one might expect, but the computer scientist had turned on a few of them so Caleb could occupy himself. The teen was doing just that as I entered, so deeply entranced in a game of Galaga that he didn’t appear to notice my arrival. Rather than disturb him, and wanting some quiet time before engaging in conversation, I shuffled over to the lounge area that lay on my right and sat down to wait.

  Complete with comfy sofas and chairs and a few low-lying tables, it was presumably there to allow gamers to relax and recover between games, or to wait for their food to be ready. A row of vending machines hummed nearby, offering a variety of sodas, chocolate bars, chips and other snacks.

  I picked up one of the open soda cans that lay on the low-lying table, shook it, put it down, then moved on to the next. I grinned when the third can sloshed agreeably. Tepid and flat; I drank it anyway.

  When we’d first arrived, I’d grabbed armfuls of them from one of the soda machines, supplied with quarters by Scott, who’d slipped a twenty-dollar bill into one of the change machines that were distributed throughout the place. Spent from the clash with fire elementals, I’d shotgunned the first two, gulped the next, and sipped the last one before stumbling off to sleep in the walk-in cooler.

  There wasn’t enough room to lie down, so I’d just leaned against a stack of crates and drifted off to sleep. How long I’d been out, I wasn’t sure. Usually sleep’s just something I do when I’m bored, but after days in the desert hotbox, monster fights, and taking both barrels of a shotgun to the stomach, I felt like mush. The freezer did me some serious good, though. I felt a lot better. The full body ache that I’d entered the cooler with had faded to a dull throb.

  “Olivia…Schmidt,” Scott said into the phone handset. “Tall, dark hair, looks like she could audition for Wonder Woman. Like I said, she’s a blackjack dealer there. She’s been there for years.” He paused, shaking his head, listening. “Is there another Golden Nugget?… All right, thanks anyway.” He hung up, furrowing his brow. “Well, that’s weird,” Scott said, looking at me.

  “What’s that?” I asked, sitting up.

  “I was trying to call Olivia at work. No one seems to know who she is.”

  I walked over to the counter. “Probably someone that just started working there.”

  “Yeah, maybe,” Scott sighed. He jabbed the phone book with his finger as he spoke. “I spoke to three different people, though. Waited on hold for twenty minutes for the pit boss. That was him just now. It doesn’t make any sense.”

  He rubbed his face and yawned. “I’m going to have to drive over there and look for her.”

  “How long has she worked there?”

  “Since I met them both,” Scott replied. He removed his eyeglasses and began polishing them. “They moved to the neighbourhood a few years ago…” He paused, staring into space. “Must be about five years now, I think. I remember them both stopping by to introduce themselves; same day the moving trucks showed up. Awesome people. Both of them. You don’t see much of that anymore, especially not in Vegas. Most people are too caught up in their own stuff to bother being friendly. These days, you say hi to some people and they just keep walking. Ignorant, man.”

  He walked over to join me and took a seat on the sofa across from mine.

  “Anyway, we hit it off right away, both Wil and I being computer geeks, gamers and sci-fi fans,” Scott said. “I helped him set up Olympus, the bulletin board system. Even gave him some old equipment for it. Then he started having weekly D&D sessions with some friends of his from around town. One of the regulars owns this place, in fact.” He waved a hand at the machines around the room. “I made a lot of friends that way.”

  “Sounds cool,” I said.

  “Yeah, and they’d throw regular parties for the neighbours, too. People liked their pool, and free booze. Man, he could drink beer all afternoon and still seem totally sober. I’d be falling on my face if I drank half what he did.”

  “Sounds expensive. The parties, I mean, not the booze; well, maybe the booze, too.” Is alcohol expensive? I wondered.

  “Wil always seemed to have money. He must have charged a lot for his work. He didn’t seem to work often. Course,
I suppose he was a bit of a night owl. Maybe that’s when he got things done.”

  “I didn’t know him all that long, but he was a good friend,” I said softly. “He took a substantial risk coming with me to get back the kids’ cash the other night. And the way he and Olivia welcomed us into their home, six total strangers, one looking like me…I don’t think many people would have done that. I’ll never forget him for that. I just wish I could have known him longer.”

  “I still can’t believe it,” Scott said. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell Olivia. I’m kind of relieved I couldn’t reach her.”

  Scott looked over at Caleb, frantically tapping the fire button and yanking the joystick of the video game. His long hair whipped the air as he threw his entire body into it, like he was surfing. “I’ll try calling home. Maybe the kids are there by now, or left a message,” he said, picking up the handset and punching buttons.

  “Okay,” I replied, heading for the vending machines. “I’m going to get another soda.”

  The cold can felt good in my hand, soothing. I cracked it with a hiss and took a gulp, shivering as the cool liquid bubbled down my throat. Belching softly, I wandered over to see Caleb’s progress in his battle against alien forces. He had just over sixty thousand points, and a few lives left, so he was doing pretty well. He dipped his head in greeting but remained focused on the game.

  “Not bad, dude,” I said. “Mind if I take next game?”

  “Sure,” he replied, glancing at me. “You any good?”

  “Never played before,” I replied, slipping a quarter onto the glass above the console.

  “Oh, sure,” Caleb said, giving me a sidelong glance. “Sounds like you’re hustling me, dude.”

  “Hey, are you guys there? Pick up the phone if you’re there,” Scott said into the phone’s handset over by the counter. “No answer,” he muttered a few seconds later. He kept the receiver to his ear and stabbed the buttons on the phone base. “No messages, either.” He slapped the phone back into its cradle and walked over to join us. “I’ll try again in a bit. Guess they’re not there yet.”

  We watched Caleb’s game until his last starship blew up. I took over. Five minutes later, Game Over flashed on the screen.

  “Okay, maybe you haven’t played before,” Caleb said, snickering.

  I stepped back to let Scott have a turn. A solid player, he fell into an easy rhythm and played for a while before yielding the joystick. “I’m going to call again,” he said, slapping Caleb on the shoulder.

  The teen leaped to take his place, managing to take over without losing a life. Tired of watching, I plunked a quarter into the Ms. Pac-Man machine next to him and started chomping pellets.

  “Hey, Lucy,” Scott said in a stage voice. “You guys made it. Did the cops give you any trouble?…Good, that’s good.…Uh-huh.…Yeah, sure, makes sense.…” He paused, listening, then said, “Well, make yourselves comfortable. Help yourselves to whatever’s in the fridge, if you’re hungry.…Yeah, we’re all good here.…Yeah, he’s having a blast. Did you see anything suspicious? Any cars on the street that shouldn’t be?…Oh, they did? Cool. That’s good. I figured I’d be parking on the street.…Let’s talk about that when we get there.…We’ll be there in a few hours; I’ve got to run an errand first.…Uh, sure, one sec. Caleb,” Scott called. “Phone for you.”

  The teen looked up, then back at his game. “I’ve got it,” I said, grabbing the joystick. He ran over to the counter, hair streaming behind him, and took the handset from Scott’s outstretched hand.

  “Be right back. I’ve got to take a whiz,” Scott said, heading for the washroom down a short hall leading to the back of the building.

  “Hey, Luce,” Caleb said. “Yeah, it’s cool.…Yeah, he’s good.…” I soon tuned out, focusing on the game, as my last Ms. Pac-Man died next to me.

  A few minutes later, Scott returned from the washroom, jingling his car keys. “I’m going to the casino to find Olivia,” he said, looking like he’d just taken a bite of a lemon. “I should be back in an hour or so.”

  “Shouldn’t we go with you?” I asked, tapping the fire button rapidly and glancing at him.

  “No, safer if you guys stay here,” he said over his shoulder, walking away. “Relax, stay hydrated. We’ll head to my place when I get back.” He waved goodbye to Caleb, still yapping on the phone, and strode toward the back exit, where he’d left the Mustang. The back door slammed, and the Mustang drove away moments later.

  “What’s going on? Luce? Lucy?” Caleb said. My starship exploded, but I barely noticed. I pushed back from the cabinet and rushed to the counter. Caleb lowered the phone receiver as I joined him, his face white as snow. The phone line hummed, disconnected.

  Chapter 18

  The Wrong House

  “Something’s wrong. It sounded like Lucy was fighting with someone. She was yelling, saying for them to let her go.”

  “The police, maybe?” I asked.

  He shrugged helplessly, eyes wide. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “We’ve got to get over there,” I said.

  He looked dubious. “How? Didn’t Scott leave? Where’d he go, anyway?”

  “He went to look for Olivia. Said he’d be back in an hour.”

  “That’s too long,” Caleb said, shaking his head. “Damn it.”

  I rubbed my face and slapped my cheeks. We can run over there, but I don’t know the way, I thought. I should have stayed awake on the drive over. Travelling on foot would take a while even if I had a clue which way to go, and wandering the streets, even at night, was a sure way to be spotted. We could wait for Scott to get back, but that might be an hour or more, and our friends might not have that much time.

  “We need transportation,” I said. I looked out at the street through the large glass windows at the front of the arcade. “Can you hotwire a car?”

  “Uh-uh,” Caleb replied. “What about a cab?”

  “Maybe,” I said. “Do you have cash?”

  “Sure do,” Caleb said. “What you got back for us from those casino dicks.” He reached for the yellow pages and began flipping through them rapidly.

  “Come on, Caleb, hurry.”

  “Not helping, dude,” Caleb said, practically ripping the pages as he flipped through them. “Give me a break. Brad and Lucy usually take care of this stuff.”

  Finding the page he was searching for, he began dialing. Less than ten minutes later, a cab pulled up in front of the arcade. Caleb and I ran to it from a nearby alley and hopped in. I kept my jacket zipped tight with the hood pulled forward to hide my face and used Caleb as a screen as I slipped inside. As agreed, Caleb did the talking. With no way to contact Scott, we’d left notes on the counter and stuck to the Galaga machine’s screen, telling him where we’d gone.

  The taxicab stopped a few houses north of the Schmidts’ so that we could walk the rest of the way to Scott’s and scope things out. Caleb paid the cab driver as I got out and waited at the rear of the vehicle. The street was deserted, dark except for the occasional streetlight. Only the bark of a dog a few blocks away disturbed the silence.

  As the cab drove away, Caleb cupped his hands over his face and lit a marijuana cigarette. He sighed, and I coughed as he expelled a thick cloud of smoke.

  “Seriously, Caleb?” I said, wrinkling my nose, edging away from him. “You need to stay alert.”

  “I’ve got to mellow out, dude,” he said, taking another puff. He held out his free hand, palm down. “Look at my hands. I can’t stop them from shaking.”

  I shook my head but said nothing. We walked in silence. Caleb continued to smoke, and I scanned ahead, moving my head like a gun turret, looking for trouble.

  A short walk later, the Schmidts’ residence, site of the too-fresh tragedy, lay to our right. The fire was out, as were the flames in the neighbouring buildings, and the house sat completely dark. In the dim light, it looked almost undamaged, if you ignored the broken windows, smashed front door, and blackened stu
cco.

  I stared at it, my head hanging low, reliving the events, only a few hours old. I should have been faster. If I’d gotten there sooner, maybe they’d still be alive.

  A flash of light in my peripheral vision drew my gaze north. A police car pulled onto the street from the intersection a few blocks away, rolling forward like a cat on the prowl.

  “Cops,” I hissed. I raced up the driveway, ducking low. Reaching the Schmidts’ front steps, I gripped the side of the attached garage and peered around its edge. Too late, I realized Caleb wasn’t with me.

  Turning, I spotted him fifty feet farther south.

  Damn, he must have kept walking when I stopped.

  Finally, he turned to look back. His face shone white in the glare of the approaching headlights, a lit joint hanging precariously from his lips. He snatched it from his mouth and held it behind his back.

  Don’t run, I thought, maybe they’ll just drive by.

  He bolted.

  The red and blue lights of the patrol car blazed to life, and the siren bleated a brief warning. “Don’t you run from me,” said a voice over the car’s loudspeaker as it swept past my hiding spot.

  I clenched my fists and banged them together like cymbals. Caleb flicked his joint to the ground and pulled up short. He raised his hands but didn’t turn around.

  They’re going to arrest him. This is bad.

  I shot from my hiding spot as if from a cannon, rushed to the end of the Schmidts’ driveway and launched a frost ball at the back window of the cop car. It tore through the air, a streak of white light, and crashed into the patrol car’s rear window, shattering it with a loud crash. Shouts and swears erupted from within. The vehicle’s rear lights ignited as the driver threw it into reverse and squealed the tires, barrelling it in my direction.

  I scurried back up the driveway. Leaping onto the landing at the top of the steps, I pushed open the broken front door and entered the ruin as the police car screeched to a halt outside.