The Night Is Cold

by Brandon Enns

  The bush line continued up ahead, for how long, she was unsure. Jennifer's lungs were screaming at her, sucking in cold air like a vacuum. If she ran any longer they would explode and she would die there in the cold, with the dark night, the stars, the groans of trees among the whistling wind, and a madman lurking.

  Finally, her feet stopped moving and she fell to her knees. She turned to examine the trail she had left behind. She listened intently for any approaching footsteps, trying to somehow flex her ears to expand her range. Nothing was coming for her. Not now, anyway. Looking down at her

  wound, the blood flowing from the source was inky, darker than she'd imagined it should be.

  Just a quick break, and I'll head south toward the road and get into my car. "Brian, where are you?" she whispered. She patted down her pockets for her cell phone. If Brian wouldn't answer, she would call it in. She had to now. The phone wasn't in her pants. Sometimes she placed it in her right jacket pocket. Nope. Left. Nope. She twisted hard to check her pants again, the pain in her stomach making her yelp like a pup getting his toes stepped on.

  Looking around at all the snow-covered spruce trees, she rested.

  ***

  The night was not what Eli had planned. Although his feelings toward Corporal Allen were confusing, he had been presented with an opportunity that he couldn't turn away from. Ever since acquiring the land, he had dreamed of a scenario such as this. A human trapped to serve on the battlefield. And she was no ordinary human.

  A chance for her to live. To defeat him.

  Eli thought of Mia Morrow's half-naked body running through the open field, his field.

  After firing rounds into the sky and watching Jennifer crawl for her life in the bush, Eli had headed into his house to collect something special.

  He walked through his kitchen and recoiled at the site of dirty footprints on his floor. He'd have to clean them after. He twitched at the second glance of wet prints.

  Eli stepped around the corner and opened up a closet that was filled with guns and ammunition. His gaze fell on one gun only. His beloved Beanfield Sniper Remington Sendero

  SF II. It was scoped and had tremendous range for all of his deer hunting. With a heavy 26-inch barrel, the Sendero was built to squeeze as much velocity as possible out of flat-shooting cartridges for long, accurate shots. He pictured Mia receiving the bullet.

  Eli instead opted for the Timber Classic Marlin 336C, which was still a fine weapon. It was a lever gun. Because lever guns are a uniformity between portability, balance, handling, and firepower, it would be perfect for situations such as this one. Jennifer had some fight left in her yet, or at least he hoped.

  The night was still young, and as Eli caressed his black rifle, he felt obligated to pray for Jennifer. His form of praying was indirect as he had no specific deity to service, but it was sincere nonetheless. Whoever or whatever would listen, he prayed that she had enough energy to fight.

  Eli glanced at the Sendero again. He slung it around his shoulder, filled a backpack up with ammo along with a pistol, setting the Timber Classic back in its holder. He would head for the north tree line.

  23

  The conditions were already too much. Her toes were swollen like little sausages. If only she could have gotten to her car. But it may have cost her life.

  She hadn't moved in about ten minutes or so, and her legs were starting to tingle from her dampened pants. Jennifer's hands were tucked into her jacket, her left curled in a fist, her gnawed right hand kept very still and open.

  She had to rise to her feet. If he chose to meet her on the south side by the road, intercepting her from her car, then she'd have to accept that risk. There was no other way...Unless...If he is waiting by the road, I could re-enter the house through the elevator. Warm my hands up long enough to get Steven out. Maybe help will be on the way by then.

  Does he think I will go to my car to flee? Jennifer pulled her bloody hand free, seeing the sinewy flesh made her feel faint. She was startled to find a small pool forming around her, melting down the snow, her belly seeping with bloody consistency. Make up your mind.

  Baker's in his driveway, protecting closer to the south to keep me out. Yeah, probably using his truck as a shield. He wouldn't want to be seen standing out on the road, but close enough to sneak a shot if I make a run for my car. Yeah, that makes sense. Middle ground. A part of him doesn’t want to kill me, right? He said it in the basement. 'You shouldn't be here.' And, 'you aren't a part of the equation.' If I go south and he isn't directly in front of me I can move farther east first, make a run for the ditch on the other side of the road.

  Use it as protection.

  Jennifer staggered through the bush, her wounds dripping into the snow, leaving a trail. She didn't hear movement. The only sound she heard was that of a raven, cawing in deep, hoarse bursts. She watched him perched up at the very tip of a spruce tree, looking out over the dreary landscape. She wondered if the bird could see Eli. It sure would be nice if it could be Jennifer's eyes. The bird peered down at Jennifer and spread its massive wings out before hopping twice and flying away.

  Jennifer kept her feet moving until reaching the south end of the tree line that separated her from the road. She glanced back toward the driveway to see if she could spot him. Nothing. As she took another step forward, she stopped on a dime, eyes wide. Set out directly in front of her, almost touching her pupils, was a thin wire.

  The wires were separated by about six inches, starting at the very bottom of the spruce trees, running halfway up the aged pines. Because they were on the edge, they had all been planted perfectly in a row, the same distance and same dimensions of wire laid. Surely, buried by each tree, was an explosive of some kind.

  Jennifer backed up slowly, one step at a time until she could comfortably walk away.

  He had trapped her in. She did not remember how far the tree line went on for and didn't have enough time or blood to find out.

  Enduring excruciating pain, she packed a snowball tightly. She was about to toss it at the wire but instead dropped it back to the ground. I'll give away my location. She'd have to trip the wire and create about a dozen explosions before she

  could attempt to tear down the connected wire and claw her way through. He wants me to come back to him. To what? To shoot me from a distance?

  Jennifer found some snow with an icy crust. She packed it harder this time and tossed it as hard as she could against the wiring. After a quick two-count, a large explosion made her fall back into the snow. Her ears were ringing, the smell of sulfur and dirt suspended in the air. Eyes still on the black smoke, a massive spruce was falling toward Jennifer. The beginning of its creaking fall alerted her, and she tried to move. It fell fast.

  ***

  Eli sat directly north of his house near the tree line, lying down in the snow with his beloved rifle to his shoulder. He was wearing white camo with a white bluff set up in front of him. No one could see him, not from the distance he'd spot them at.

  The explosion made him inhale abruptly. Has she gotten careless?

  Eli had lined the south trees with explosives after killing Mia Morrow. He couldn't explain why, not even to himself. It was a greater calling, one that he connected with more and more as his journey surged on. If the explosives were meant to be triggered, then so be it.

  Eli felt a strong sinking feeling. He was not ready for it to end. For her to die.

  Please, be strong, Officer.

  If she could have seen the way the world really was and understood his purpose, she could have been his partner. They would have made an excellent team.

  Eli expected more explosions to go off, but none came, and

  his worry increased.

  He maintained focus on the west side of the south tree line, assuming she would try to regain the long driveway and make a run for her vehicle—if she was alive. He hoped she'd surprise him and enter the field. The red zone. My intrepid combatant. I believe in you.

  I believe.<
br />
  He trembled with excitement and licked his dry lips.

  He looked back through his scope. Come forth.

  24

  Jennifer turned as the tree came down with a thud. She tried to move but couldn't. Her foot was stuck. When she tried to pull it free, a shooting pain made her scream.

  She'd have to try and lift it. Positioning her body as close to the trunk as possible, she prepared herself for the big lift. Just one push, rip that foot out. "One, two.” Applying force to the tree trunk triggered blinding pain in her back and stomach, the hot bullet shifting inside. The tree didn't budge.

  Goddamn it, Jen. Ignore that shit. On three you push that thing as hard as you fucking can. Or you die here in this maniacs farmyard. Let's go...

  After another three count, she pushed hard, gritting teeth, the pain searing. She screamed through it, pushing her arms through the trunk, her right hand leaking blood again until finally, she felt it budge. Sweet movement. She wriggled her shoulder and boot to the right at once but dropped it back down at the same time.

  Jennifer looked back down at the toe of her boot. Using her free hands she grabbed hold of her boot and pulled her foot out from underneath.

  Upon standing on her two feet, she knew immediately that her ankle was fractured. Pressing down, it felt like a nail being hammered into the bone, red flashes firing up and down her leg. She could picture bone splitting with each abusive step. Then you limp, you coward.

  She hobbled east through the woods. There was only green and white. Spruce and snow and open field due north.

  Everything was still and then it was not.

  It was distant, but the bush came alive with movement. She was expecting to find Eli staring at her through spruce needles, but she could hear simultaneous footsteps from opposite directions. They weren't human footsteps, they were more scatter-like. She had left a lot of blood up and down that bush. What exactly had she attracted? Had she lost enough that she was starting to imagine things? Was she too far inside her own mind from her day of continuous shock?

  Too much blood. I'm dying.

  Jennifer kept moving east, hoping the trees would eventually come to an end so she could travel north, far enough away from a gunshot from Eli.

  ***

  On the cold cement floor of Eli's basement, Jennifer's cell phone vibrated.

  ***

  Twigs snapping, pine needles rustling, a scurrying with the faintest of short breaths approaching. She twisted in a circle, accidentally transferring weight to her bad foot. She groaned in pain. Her brain was on fire, her muscles playing Tetris around her gut shot. Just keep going. The bush continued to make sounds, surrounding her with creatures of dark death.

  The cold wind accelerated. Smells of pine provided her with a tiny fraction of comfort.

  She remembered the small pocket knife she had in her boot. That would have been rather handy in the psychopath's basement. But there had been no sane head to prevail in such a situation.

  Was that a growl?

  She staggered on, ignoring her paranoia. There weren’t

  wolves around Saskatoon-not that she knew of. Jennifer broke left and quickly pulled the pocket knife from her boot. It wouldn't be long enough to kill a wolf, but it was something. And it was sharp.

  Glancing to her left, she caught a glimpse of tufts of fur swerving in an out, playing with her the way Eli had. Seeing an opening up ahead, she rushed forward, refusing to look back at the animal on her tail. No longer could she feel her lungs burn, nor her legs. As she reached the opening (for some reason, believing it would save her), she stepped out into the open and turned. There was nothing at first, and then a coyote emerged from the trees cautiously, about ten yards away. Its ears were perked straight up as it leaned away from her.

  She exhaled in relief and started walking toward the scared animal. It looked rather mangy, perhaps having gone a long time without a meal. It must have been terribly desperate or sick in the head to follow a person like that, but the blood may have been enough of an attraction. It was no threat to her, and for a brief moment it seemed she was no threat to it. Just as the coyote seemed comfortable, it stiffened and turned to run away.

  BANG.

  A bullet carved through the coyote, folding it to the ground. It crawled in a circle and then lay still. It whimpered like a pathetic mutt.

  Jennifer could have run, but she had come too far to go back into the bush. If he wanted her dead, it would be happening, just as she was thinking.

  She paused, peered out into the distance and waited. She walked toward the coyote. The whines were high pitched and

  continued as she neared. The coyote made no attempts at fleeing as the bullet had connected with its midsection.

  Jennifer crouched over the animal and touched its fur. She could feel its heartbeat. "Don't you worry, pooch. You'll be all right."

  It snarled and snapped but couldn't turn over. "It's okay." She stroked softly around the red stained fur, its whimper shrill. "You're okay." She steadied herself. Using her left hand, she plunged the knife into the coyote’s head in one smooth stroke. It squirmed, mouth opening and closing, while its eyes appeared empty. She held it tightly in place.

  And then it was dead.

  Jennifer rose, knife at her side, looking out toward Eli. A hot tear ran down her cheek. She lifted her butchered hand and placed it over her heart.

  Eli stared at the blood-soaked Jennifer through his scope. He marveled at her glory, wishing he could see it replay on an infinite loop. It was a privilege to share the night with her. Fear no longer controlled her, he knew. To shoot her down now would have been a despicable act.

  ***

  Brian drove down the grid road and spotted Jennifer's car parked in an approach, out of sight from the Baker house. He continued to drive up to the house and spotted the blood in the snow.

  He pulled ahead and stopped behind Eli's truck, which was beside the blood stains. He radioed in, "I need back up at Eli Baker's home. Highway 219 South, grid 376. There has been

  a shooting, possible officer down."

  Brian tracked the blood through the bush as it continued for quite a distance. The trail angled to the left, and then bent back toward the Baker house. He was inclined to check the house first, but there was a separate track of blood that went back into the bush. A familiar sick feeling overcame him. "Where are you, Allen..."

  25

  Jennifer used the south tree line for protection from the howling wind, its screeching tune increasing in pitch with the suns departure. She had swallowed up her adrenaline, her energy draining like air from a leaky valve. Her steps were shortening as she watched Eli retreat back to his home in the not so far distance, his figure a white blotch moving with waves above the snow. She felt a madness in her head, a rage in her heart, and a sadness dimming her soul, dimmer and dimmer, the sun guiding it down.

  Her cheeks no longer hurt. She had no mouth to smile, no eyes to blink. Her fingers were puffy and purple on the tips. She had been out in the cold for two hours, she was soaked, and she was tired. She didn't have much time. After leaving the coyote behind, she considered the duration it would take her to get back to the house at walking pace. Maybe fifteen minutes if she could keep pace, but if she lost another step on that broken ankle, longer. There was still warmth within her coat, but her extremities were in trouble.

  A thought entered. She needed warmth and energy, and she hadn't made it very far from her dead friend.

  Jennifer turned around, now walking hard, desperation having found its way back to her. Her lungs were on fire from the icy air.

  She knelt down, her knees creaking like old floorboards. Using her sharp pocket knife she stabbed into the coyote's belly. A foul stench burst forth, heating her nostrils, crawling inside. She slit down the middle, a slippery zip of gushing,

  before plunging her hands into the hot insides of the coyote. The slick texture of intestines did not bother her, the heat providing her with more comfort than s
he could have imagined. Steam rose off of the coyote’s body as Jennifer swirled her frozen hands in coils of intestine.

  After a few minutes, the thawing process provided a throbbing burn. Jennifer bit down on the collar of her jacket and screamed. With some time, the agony began to subside and the sensation was coming back, giving her control over her fingers that had nearly been rendered dead.

  She withdrew her hands and tucked them in her down-filled coat. Her head was next. She didn't know if her ears were a lost cause or not, but she had to do it. Putrid shit and vile blood wafted. She immersed her head into the stomach where, her hands had already paved the way. She heaved but didn't vomit. Tucking her upper lip over her bottom, she breathed downward, preventing anything from getting into her mouth. The heat was intense. Steam suspended around her, a warming cloud forcing the aroma in. Her ears began to burn.

  Jennifer removed her head and vomited into the snow. Steam roared off the yellow and red scraps that came from her wounded body. Eyes closed, she wiped away the blood with her sleeves.

  Jennifer's wounds were still in desperate need of medical aid, but the best thing she would get from her car was warmth, gauze, and bandages. That would all take time. Time that Steven didn't have.

  Jennifer crossed the field and limped along the tree line. She walked and her ankle sent pain up her leg.

  She limped. She jogged. She ran.

  ***

  Eli stood in front of his gun closet, placing his blessed Sendero back into the grooves. He hung his backpack on a hanger. Henceforth, he would carry his pistol and his old sawed-off double barrel shotgun. He looked out his front window to find an RCMP truck parked in his driveway with no one in it.