The Night Is Cold

by Brandon Enns

  He stared into Rodney's blank eyes as the water pooled around, changing in its consistency, mixing with blood. He remained stuck in the sand, his body having left an imprint. The water and sand around his body swirled with a reddish hue. Eli studied his cute face, his dark brown eyes, chubby cheeks, big ears. He was bigger, but still the same boy he remembered. Sweet and innocent. A boy with no agenda,

  only to live, to be happy.

  Eli sat beside Rodney and disappeared into the trees and the sky. His mind was empty for a moment.

  He lay down beside Rodney, the cold spring water rushing up his back. The water flowed through his blood, pumped through his heart, and then drowned his tarnished soul.

  He continued to lay with Rodney as daylight faded away.

  The moon was almost full, a small portion shaved off. Sirens sounded in the distance and increased in volume as they bridged the gap. Unflinching, Eli gazed out at the moon and touched Rodney's hand.

  Eli tilted his head to the side, looking out across the lake toward the main highway that was blocked partially by trees. In the distance, through the trees, he could see red and blue. Eli rose to one knee, looking down at Rodney one last time. The thought of leaving him there all alone...but he could no longer stay. I'm so sorry, Rodney. I’ll see you soon.

  He fled for his car without looking back.

  ***

  The cold blade was still held firmly against Jennifer's neck. The foul scent of the coyote was prominent. Eli's hand was shaky.

  He began to speak, his voice monotonous, recalling the memory. "I had never been to that place before. I should have been there with Rodney instead of them. I'm not sure what kept me in the car. I suppose I was transfixed by the arrangement of fireworks. It was surprising that the small convenience store had such variety. The bouquet pattern. That was maybe the one that kept me in my seat..."

  Jennifer slid her available hand over the shotgun in his grasp.

  He continued, "I know that I'm different. An inability to feel the appropriate emotions. To connect with people. Sometimes I think I'm an alternate species. A certain variation or mutated form...but, when I saw him down there on that sand, I realized I was human. I had been mistaken."

  The knife was too snug. Blood started to run down Jennifer's neck. "Eli. You're cutting me. You don't want to hurt me, I know you don't." She spoke carefully, avoiding flexing her neck too much, creating a deeper cut.

  "They didn't care about him. It was just a problem that needed to be solved. And then they went on like nothing happened. Please remove your hand from my gun, Ms. Allen."

  She didn't.

  "It'll be okay," he assured her.

  "Baker. Please let her go," said Brian.

  "Yes, you've asked that already. Is there anything else you'd like to say?"

  "She's got nothing to do with this."

  "I've realized something. Everyone's actions can impact those most important to them. And you, Peters. Your actions were the worst."

  "Baker—"

  Jennifer felt the shotgun being ripped from her grasp. Suddenly, she was being launched forward, falling toward the ground. As she fell, everything slowed down. Her knees crashed into the floor. She could see the fright in Brian's eyes. He moved forward to try and cover her, but he was too late. The shotgun erupted, ringing her ears. I'm hit. A haze of gun smoke billowed.

  Jennifer twisted to her back and looked down at her

  gunshot wound. It was her old one. She looked up at Eli's menacing eyes, then back to Brian, standing up against the entrance wall, a hole-sized pattern of pellets blown into his chest through his winter coat. He stumbled forward and fell against the kitchen counter. He hit the floor with a thud.

  Brian was still breathing, but it was labored, sounding asthmatic.

  "No," Jennifer said aloud, emitting little emotion, the moment far too surreal.

  Jennifer tried to move to his aid but collapsed back to the ground. She crawled over to Brian, groaning from the pain, dragging herself with her fingertips. She leaned up against a kitchen counter beside him, glaring up at The Satanist.

  He stared at her wound. "You should find your way to a hospital."

  "What?"

  "Adams and Morrow. It'll all be done soon."

  "And this? He's got a wife and kid, you son of a bitch."

  "He's not equipped to care for a family."

  "And how the hell would you know? You kill people for fun."

  "The fun is a burdensome bonus."

  "Well come on then. What are you waiting for?" Jennifer leaned forward and grabbed the shotgun hanging from his hand and pulled it into her chest. "Finish the job."

  "You are not a part of this. I told you that."

  "What was that out there then?"

  He looked away.

  "I don't know."

  "You don't know?!" Jennifer jammed the end of the gun into her own chest. "Come on. Do it. You coward. You

  fucking gutless coward!"

  "It was a mistake," he said, abashed.

  Eli yanked the gun out of her grasp. He walked around her feet and grabbed a dish towel from a drawer in the kitchen. He lowered himself, leaving them face to face. A bead of sweat suspended from the tip of his nose until finally dropping. A new droplet formed underneath.

  He handed her the towel and gripped her hand tightly, but with care, not anger. "Apply pressure to the bullet wound. You've lost a significant amount of blood, but I believe if paramedics can show up within the next ten minutes you will have a strong chance of survival. The people need you. The ones that deserve you."

  Jennifer didn't know how to respond. She looked over at Brian, who was either passed out or dead. "What could he have possibly done to you?"

  "Enough.”

  28

  2002. Saskatoon Police Department. Morning after Rodney's death.

  Brian walked into his small office, Corps Sergeant Major Rollins following in behind. He was a handsome man, creases around his eyes, white hair and silky mustache that ran halfway to handlebars.

  "Everything all right, Sarge?" Brian took a seat behind his desk, making an attempt to clean up his mess of papers and wrappers.

  "No, it ain't." He looked encumbered by something.

  Sarge paused, sighed, and then sat on the corner of Brian's desk, toppling over a stack of papers. They fell to the floor, a humorous glance shared between the two cut the intensity for a brief moment.

  "Something has come up," said Rollins.

  "You gonna tell me what's going on? 'Cause I got a kid in there telling me he saw a murder."

  Sarge inhaled, then stood and leaned up against the wall.

  "Why was I pulled out of there?" Brian asked.

  "You gotta know...this is top-down, Brian. I've got no say in this. Zero. Only orders."

  "What is it?"

  "This here was an accident. One that we are gonna keep quiet."

  "Keep quiet?"

  "All I can say is a young man by the name of Tanner

  Pearson was involved. There was no foul play, but this all happened on his watch. I'll take care of putting this one to bed. I trust you can assist with the details?"

  "Pearson? The rich guy?"

  Rollins nodded.

  "Woah, woah, hold on. What are you asking me to do here?"

  "I'm telling you. A horrible accident took place. A simple boy found his way to the lake and fell. This is a tough break for the community. Real tough...is that clear, Sergeant?"

  "You're not serious?"

  “We need to bottleneck this thing hard. No CTV, no Global, no small-town print. We need a proper story for how that boy got out there to begin with.”

  “Oh yeah? Well, what do you think works best?” Brian asked sarcastically, smoke crawling out of his ears.

  “Don’t concern yourself with that. We’ll assemble a narrative and contact the parents and the school. It’ll be air tight.”

  “This is outrageous.”

  "Moving forward there will b
e an adjustment. Come next spring, I'll be moving on to a new division. You'll be needed to run things here."

  "You're gonna run with this? Jesus Christ. I won't do it."

  "I really need your support on this one, Brian. Your talents and experience are desperately needed here. We can't be missing out on what you have to offer. The RCMP would like to keep you steering the ship here. Okay?"

  "Fuck you."

  "I really appreciate your assistance on this. It won't go unnoticed."

  Brian was devastated.

  ***

  Brian walked into the interrogation room to resume his conversation with Eli Baker. Eli tapped his fingers against the table. They slowed as he glanced up at Brian. "You're going to do something about this, right?"

  "Of course. Your information is vital to this case."

  "So, you'll bring them all in then?"

  Brian hated himself. "I just need to ask you some questions first."

  "What more do you need to know?"

  "You saw the murder take place?"

  "I could see they were with him, and then—he was pushed off the cliff."

  "You saw him being pushed?"

  "No, but—"

  "Okay, so. You had said you only had a partial view of the scene? You could see Tanner Pearson's car?"

  "Yeah, I saw it drive over the hill and heard it stop."

  "But you couldn't identify the car on top of the hill. Just before by the convenience store."

  Brian could see Eli's hate forming. What choice do I have? A promotion would be huge for my family. What's the alternative? I lose my career? They continue with the same approach regardless?

  "And you could identify all the boys with him?"

  "Yeah, I saw them get into the car outside of the school."

  "Right. When you were following Rodney. And what was your relationship with Rodney Colwell?"

  "I already told you. His parents were my foster parents years ago."

  "Right. And at that time when you were under the same roof, you ended up homeschooling, yes?"

  "What does that have to do with this?"

  "Just gathering as much information as possible. So there have been reports that confirm you attended the same school as the young men you have listed for us here today. Correct?"

  "For a very brief period I—"

  "One of our officers does have someone at the scene of the crime. Next to Rodney. No group. Just one. Store clerk said he saw you get into your car at the scene. Didn't mention that group of boys."

  "What are you saying?"

  "You left the school. You had troubles working with the other kids?"

  "I was unable to adjust my persona."

  It was an odd comment. Everything about the boy seemed odd to Brian. He was very matter-of-fact.

  "Your persona."

  "Yes. I struggle in most social settings."

  "You seem okay to me."

  "You're an adult."

  "You have any reason to want these boys in trouble? Wish them any harm?"

  "What I wish doesn't change what happened."

  Brian cleared his throat. A glass wall was forming between them. He felt like he was attacking an innocent child. He was, really. "What I have here is you at the scene of the crime, Mr. Baker. And I think that you were simply catching up with your long-lost brother. You were worried, right? You followed him."

  "Why are you doing this?"

  "I'm sorry for your loss, Mr. Baker. This was a terrible accident. You understand the importance of...keeping your feelings reserved? These boys, they had nothing—"

  Eli rose from his chair and glared down at Brian. "You know what this is. And it isn't right. You're just going to let this happen?"

  "What was the reason for you moving away from the Colwells’? After which your name changed from Colwell to Baker. Why is that? I’d be interested in finding out." Brian was somehow becoming the bitterness he was portraying.

  "This is your final decision then?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "You are not willing to pursue Rodney's murder based on the information and suspects I've provided you with?"

  Brian got out of his chair with an imposing glare of his own. "At this time we are still considering all evidence. All of which is pointing to either accident or suicide. Understand?"

  "Yes. I understand. May I go?"

  Eli's eyes were cold, audacious. There was something wrong about this Eli character, and yet, without question, he believed every word he spoke.

  "Not yet. Another officer will join us for your official written report. We'll make sure we have everything correct."

  ***

  Sirens sounded pulling Eli from his trance.

  "Your boss deserved to die," he said.

  The sirens were getting closer. Eli looked out the window to watch them approach. "I have to go. It was a pleasure getting to know the real you. Good-bye, Corporal Jennifer Allen."

  Jennifer was so tired, her eyelids heavy. She had to sleep.

  An intense pain shot into her stomach, jarring her back to life. She looked into his eyes once more, as he had bent down to apply pressure to the wound. "Stay awake, please. There's more for you yet."

  Eli fled out of the kitchen through the back. She applied stronger pressure. It was much, much more intense than earlier, absent of shock and adrenaline to push her through. As she was left there, knowing Eli would not put her down, she feared death.

  Jennifer thought of her mother. She then thought of Jacey. She had treated her so poorly.

  Jennifer leaned over Brian and put her ear to his mouth. To her surprise, he was still breathing. She unbuttoned his shirt, fingers unable to perform the way her mind commanded them too. Another glance at her sinewy hand made her feel faint. Trembling and fumbling she made it through four buttons, discovering that he had been wearing a bulletproof vest. She ran her fingers over all of the pellets in the suit. A couple of strays went through the skin underneath his vest, blood running slowly down his belly. Blue and red flashed through the window, lighting up the kitchen where they sat, both covered in blood.

  So tired.

  No matter how hard she tried to fight it, she was fading. She wanted to call Jacey but her phone was still missing.

  She turned back to Brian, who was now starting to wake.

  "Hang in there, Sarge."

  His eyes opened and became wispy at the sight of Jennifer's face. He looked at her bullet wound. He was searching for the correct words for a profound and overdue apology. "Are you okay, Allen?"

  "Oh, I'm better than you. As always."

  Brian laughed and scowled at the pain it had caused.

  "Who is Peter Chance?"

  He paused. "An audible at the line. A quick wild goose chase. I needed you distracted while I—righted my wrongs. There were a few of them...I figured it wouldn't work on you."

  "You put the squeeze on the school."

  He nodded.

  "What happened after Rodney Colwell's death in '02? You cover it up for those boys?"

  He removed his vest and winced. Brian turned his head. His remorseful, teary eyes apologized.

  “Why’d you put me on this to begin with?”

  “You still don’t give yourself enough credit.”

  “Have me fail and I’ll leave it be. Reject me outright-”

  “And you’d never let it go.”

  After a saddened pause, "You know you're covered head to toe in blood, right? You smell like the asshole of a dead skunk."

  "Yeah. Bagged me a 'yote."

  "That right? Good for you, Allen."

  They sat in silence.

  Paramedics came through the door along with a frigid gust of wind.

  29

  Eli peered around the corner of his home just in time to find RCMP officers flooding out of their cars to storm his house. An ambulance was parked in the mix of three other cop cars. Be well, Jennifer Allen.

  He bolted south toward the road where his LeSabre was parked by the
old shed.

  Using the short bluff of trees as a screen, he sprinted toward his car.

  "He's making a run for it!" an officer hollered.

  Reaching for the car door, he heard, "FREEZE! DON'T MOVE!" An officer rounded the corner of the shed.

  Eli paused, door already open, and turned to face the officer. It dawned on him that the officer only knew what he had been told but nonetheless knew in his heart to be true. His truth, that Eli was a psychopath bent on destruction, killing for his own sick pleasures. Oh, if he could see the truth for only a moment.

  Eli turned his back and dropped into the driver's seat. Hot pain erupted in his shoulder. Three more shots fired at his car as he spun his studded tires in the snow, fleeing the scene down his small trail parallel with his driveway. The back windshield had shattered from the gunshots.

  Gas pedal to the floor, Eli surged through an opening in the trees and accelerated down the gravel road. Faster and faster. The snowfall had stopped, an astounding lucidity of stars so bright that he could reach out and touch them. They were magnified and falling down on him. Eli drove down the

  grid road with three cop cars on his tail. He hit play on his cassette player and Patsy Cline's "Walkin' After Midnight" crackled on through the speakers, her voice angelic. Looking in his rearview mirror, he could see them closing the gap.

  Panic no longer held him tightly, and the excitement had disappeared.

  Rodney. As long as we had each other we would be all right. He remembered believing in that notion with irrefutable hope, their future intact and wholesome. Before he was taken from them. Before he became what he was.

  But now, his linear path was fractured. He would go back to prison. Prison had prepared him for this. But this was over now.

  What would Rodney have thought about this? I gave in. I was too weak. That poor cat. If only...what would have been...Sarah. Poor Sarah. Have I created an imbalance? Forgive me...no...