by Chris Cooper
“You okay to drive?” Eric asked Oliver.
“Yeah,” Oliver replied, heading toward the driver’s seat.
“Keep working the radio,” Eric said to the other officers. “Tell the hospital in Amberley we’re on our way.”
Eric climbed into the passenger seat, and Oliver floored it, at least as much as he could without losing control on the icy road.
Mitch wheezed as Eric twisted around to help him.
Oliver’s eyes darted to the rearview mirror. He hadn’t seen the damage up close but got a glimpse as Eric shifted out of the way. Spots of bright red were mixed with ash on Mitch’s face, and the fire had completely burned off patches of his clothing.
“Mitch, buddy, you have to calm down. We’re taking you to the hospital.” Eric tried to keep the quiver from his voice, but it cracked as he examined Mitch’s wounds.
Mitch slapped the back of Oliver’s seat, and Oliver looked again into the mirror. The man’s hair had been burned, and the fabric of his shirt seemed to have melted into his shoulders.
Oliver swallowed hard and focused on the road ahead.
He swerved past the Christchurch sign, trying to keep the car on the road by memory.
As they drove farther away from town, the snow and wind picked up.
“I can’t see anything,” Oliver said, but Eric was preoccupied with Mitch and ignored him.
The back seat grew eerily quiet. Oliver checked the rearview mirror, against his better judgment, and saw Mitch’s arms had fallen against his chest, his head slumped to the side.
“He’s stopped breathing,” Eric said as he climbed into the back seat, bumping the steering wheel and nearly knocking the car off the road.
“I can’t see where I’m going!” Oliver shouted.
The wind blew hard against the side of the car, causing it to shudder.
“Keep going. Come on, Mitch!” Eric straddled the burned man and started CPR.
The windshield went white, but before he could slam on his brakes, and as he was easing off the gas, an object at the side of the road came from nowhere. He swerved hard, trying to avoid it, but clipped it on the station wagon’s front bumper. The car slid across the road and into an embankment, sending Eric flying against a door and Mitch against the back of the car seats.
“What the hell are you doing?” Eric shouted.
“I’m sorry! I hit something.”
Oliver tried to start the car again, but the engine refused to turn over.
While Oliver tried to start the engine, Eric continued to work.
After a few tense minutes, Eric stopped. “Shit,” he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a coat sleeve. “He’s gone, goddammit! He’s gone.” Eric opened the door and climbed out into the snow.
Oliver was frozen, trying to keep his eyes from wandering up to the rearview mirror and unable to comprehend how the lazy winter day had ended in a violent death.
“Get out here, kid.” Eric stood by the driver’s-side window and tapped on the glass, fury on his face.
Oliver climbed out into the storm, sinking into the snow halfway to his knees.
“You want to tell me why the hell you were driving around in circles?” Eric asked.
“What? I wasn’t driving in circles,” Oliver replied.
Eric pointed at the top of the embankment several feet behind the car. Somehow, Oliver had driven directly into the corner of the Christchurch welcome sign. The sign had sunk sadly into the snow, held up only by a loose bolt and one remaining crooked signpost. The other lay in pieces in the snow.
“We passed that sign,” Oliver said defensively. “I swear I was driving straight toward Amberley.”
Eric bent over and put his hands on his knees, taking several deep breaths as he tried to regain composure. “It’s okay. The roads are terrible. It’s not your fault.” His breathing slowed. “Get in. I’ll drive. We still need to get him to Amberley. We can’t take him back like this.”
As he climbed back into the car, Oliver refused to look at Mitch’s body. A feeling of guilt washed over him, rising from deep within his belly until a wave of nausea hit his esophagus. He put his hands to his lips and swallowed. “I’m sorry. I swear we were heading in the right direction.”
Eric turned the key, and with a bit of finagling, the engine turned over. The car slid and fishtailed as he tried to pull it up the side of the embankment. He drove to where the ground leveled out and got back onto the road.
The only sounds audible in the car came from slush underneath the tires and violent wind whipping against the station wagon’s frame.
Oliver’s heart was racing. How could I have been so careless? I’ve taken away his only chance by driving like an idiot. He held in his emotions the best he could but wanted to roll down the window and scream into the storm.
The wind picked up once more, and a blast of snow made it harder to see. Eric tried to keep the car steady on the road, but soon they could see nothing but a blanket of white.
“Christ, you weren’t kidding,” he said.
After several moments of cautious driving, the Christchurch sign appeared once again in the distance.
“What the hell?” Eric said. He stopped the car to look.
“I told you I was driving in the opposite direction,” Oliver replied.
“But that’s not possible.”
Oliver thought for a moment. “Did you find the woman? Anna told you, right?”
Eric shook his head. “She did. I went to check it out, but by the time I got there, the fire had already consumed half the damned building.”
“So you didn’t see her? She might be inside.”
“Oliver, if she was inside, she’s dead. There’s no way anyone would have survived the fire. You see what it did to Mitch.”
Oliver looked at the burned man in the back seat. “This is it. The Siren said he’d be coming. Whoever he is, I don’t know, but that woman was trying to warn us.” He looked out into the storm. “We’re trapped in Christchurch.”
“But who? If we can’t get out, how would anyone get in?”
“They’re already here, I think,” Oliver replied. “The woman said she came in on the train, but Madeline said the train station’s closed. Went up there myself, and it’s empty. But there’s a train parked there—not an ordinary passenger train but an old one.”
“Strange trains come through all the time. We had one painted like a clown pass through a few years ago.”
“They’ve locked us in.” Oliver started to panic. “How else can you explain it? The phone lines are down, no one can leave, and the radio doesn’t even work. Radios don’t just stop working because of a storm.”
Eric shook his head. “Let’s not get carried away just yet. We probably just got turned around in the storm. It’ll be fine.”
“You saw what Simon and the Siren were capable of.” Oliver turned to Eric and locked eyes with him. “The Siren said someone else was pulling the strings—that Simon had made a deal for a new life in return for Asher’s blood.”
“I admit what happened a few weeks ago was strange, but—”
“They are coming for him, and I’m sure Mitch won’t be the last to die if we don’t do something. You saw it yourself. We’re trapped here.”
Eric looked down at the steering wheel and ran his fingers along its bottom edge. “Better be getting back to town, then.” He looked at Oliver and nodded swiftly before putting the car into drive.
The second floor of the pub had fallen in on itself, reducing the building to a few twisted outer walls and a smoldering interior. Several idle stragglers still stood, watching in disbelief. As the station wagon rolled by, they turned and followed the car, realizing who was inside.
A small cluster of cars had been parked next to the town hall.
“We can’t leave him like this for everyone to see,” Eric said. “Let’s take him back to the police station. I know it’s a lot to ask, but will you help me carry him in?”
Oliver nodded. “Whatever you need.”
Eric pulled around behind the station and backed up to the rear door.
He removed his overcoat and draped it over the body. “I’ll pull him out by his shoulders, and you grab his feet.”
Eric walked around to the back and leaned against the car. “Here we go,” he said under his breath before opening the door and sliding Mitch to the edge of the seat. Oliver lifted the man by his ankles, and the two carried him inside. The soles of Mitch’s shoes had melted, and blistered skin showed through a hole in the bottom.
They took the body to the interrogation room, which had become more of a storage room because of the infrequent nature of Christchurch crime, and set him down carefully on the interview table.
Eric pulled the blinds. “I hate to leave him here, but we don’t have much choice at the moment.”
They stood over Mitch in an impromptu moment of silence.
“I told her to go to the pub,” Oliver said.
“What?”
“I lied about Asher and told the woman she might have better luck at the pub, that he might be staying there. It’s my fault. Mitch is dead because of me.”
The realization sent another wave of nausea rushing through him, and he searched frantically for a trashcan. He dumped the contents of a paper-recycling basket onto the floor and retched violently into the plastic bin.
Eric knelt down next to him. “It’s not your fault.”
“I should have helped her. She’s probably dead too.”
“And what were you going to do? They could have burned the bakery. It could have been you, Anna, and Izzy.”
The thought made Oliver want to heave once more.
“Come on,” Eric said. “There are paper towels in the bathroom. Go clean yourself up.”
Chapter Four
Oliver opened the doors of the town hall, and the occupants braced themselves against the cold blast that rushed through the building. Most of the town had gathered there, anxiously chattering about the afternoon’s events. He stepped over to speak with the mayor, who stood off to the side, talking to one of the Christchurch officers.
Izzy was sitting and sipping coffee out of a Styrofoam cup. When she saw Oliver standing in the doorway, she rushed over as the rest of the crowd took notice.
“You’re back so soon,” she said. Her eyes seemed to ask what her lips refused to say.
“He didn’t make it,” he replied. “We tried the road to Amberley, but we’re snowed in. We kept getting turned around, like some force didn’t want us to leave.”
Tears welled in Izzy’s eyes. “Oh no, I can’t believe it.” She wrapped her arthritic hand around Oliver’s waist and drew him in for a hug.
The others in the hall noticed the commotion and moved closer to hear.
“We tried our best,” Oliver said. “The town must be surrounded by some magic force field, just as Briarwood had been. As soon as we hit the main road to Amberley, the storm got worse, and before we knew it, we were facing the town again.”
“But how?” Izzy asked.
“I don’t know. But between the Siren’s warning and the woman this afternoon, I think we’d better check on Asher and Anna.”
Izzy cupped a hand over her mouth. “And we were going to leave him all by himself. How stupid.” A serious look crossed her face. “What about the other man?”
“Man?” Oliver asked.
“After you left, they found a man around the side of the building. He managed to crawl out. His arm and the side of his face were burned pretty badly. He said he thought it might have been a gas leak. Gary just left to take him over to the police station. I’m surprised you didn’t run into him on the way. He was going to drive the guy over to Amberley.”
“But no girl? And they just believed his story?”
“Oliver, he was toast. There’s no way he’s trying to hurt anyone. Why would he have done that to himself?”
Eric rushed toward the door at the back of the hall, and Oliver chased after him.
His face was still numb from the cold, but the fresh blast of frozen air felt like thousands of tiny needles on his cheeks. He looked around the corner and saw Eric kneeling next to Gary, who was slumped against a wall.
Eric pressed his palm against the officer’s stomach. “He’s been stabbed,” he said. “Come here.”
Oliver knelt next to him, and Eric showed him where to apply pressure.
“Put a hand here and press as hard as you can.”
Eric went inside for help while Oliver pressed firmly on the man’s stomach, trying to staunch the flow of blood.
“Got myself into a mess,” Gary said. “Should have never gone alone.”
“It’s not your fault,” Oliver replied.
“I told him.” Gary winced.
“Told him what?” Oliver asked.
“About Asher. The guy’s face was burned to hell, and I felt bad for him. He said he’d been looking for Asher and wanted to know where he’d been staying. He said he had an urgent message for him.”
“What did you tell him?” Oliver felt queasy again.
“That he’d been staying with you and Izzy.”
Oliver felt as though the wind had been knocked out of him. “Did you tell him where we live?”
“No. Didn’t have time,” Gary replied.
“What was the message?”
“Said he’d deliver it himself, then the bastard stabbed me.”
Oliver turned toward Izzy’s house in the distance, but the snowy haze obscured his view.
“Which way did he go?” Oliver asked.
“I don’t know. Was preoccupied with being stabbed and all.” His smile turned into another wince. “I’ll be okay. Just got me in the fleshy part.”
Eric returned with several other townspeople. “Let’s get him inside.”
“About time,” Gary replied. “My ass is numb.”
“The man knows Asher is staying with us. We have to go check on him,” Oliver told Eric.
“Once we get Gary inside, Will can go with you over to the house.”
They guided Gary through the door, helped him to the floor, and leaned him against a wall. A few of the Elders swooped in to tend to his wounds.
Izzy grimaced as she looked at the back seat, still covered with splotches of ash and oxidized blood. She turned away from the car and leaned against it.
“Here,” Oliver said. “I’ll cover it up.” He grabbed a towel from the trunk and draped it over the dirty leather.
As they drove around the bend to Izzy’s house, Oliver held his breath because the car smelled of a grotesque campfire.
Nekko lay in the front bay window as the car pulled up the driveway. As soon as Oliver stopped the car, he opened the door and rushed toward the side entrance.
“Hold on!” Will shouted from behind. “Let me go in first.”
He drew his weapon from its holster and twisted the doorknob.
They didn’t even bother to lock the door.
Music was blaring from the kitchen as Will entered the back of the house and walked down the hallway toward the sound. He held his hand back, signaling Oliver to stay behind.
When he disappeared around the corner, a sudden shout caused Oliver’s heart to jump. He ran down the hall and into the kitchen.
“Startled him,” Anna said, bat raised in the air and ready to swing.
Spinach covered the kitchen counters and most of the floor in front of the refrigerator.
“Just making dinner,” Asher said as he knelt to gather the leafy greens from the floor. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“She’s lucky I didn’t shoot her,” Will said, reholstering his gun.
“Why wasn’t the door locked?” Oliver asked.
“Oh,” Asher replied. “Must have forgotten to lock it when I took Pan out earlier. You didn’t mention that I’d have to worry about rogue police officers sneaking in.”
“Seriously?” Anna asked. “The door’s been unlocked
the whole time?” She leaned the bat against the kitchen table.
“Sorry,” Asher added. “It was an honest mistake.”
Izzy and Anna crept around the corner.
“Everything all right?” Izzy asked. “I heard shouting from the car.”
“Everything’s fine,” Will replied. “Looks like everything’s under control here. Mind giving me a lift back to the square?”
“Should we all go?” Izzy asked.
“There’s really not much to do at this point. Lock your doors, and we’ll update everyone if there are any developments.”
“And how do we reach you if we need help?” she asked.
“Don’t think there’s a good way at the moment, unfortunately. I’ll try to make the rounds now and then. Just have to go back and unbury my cruiser.”
“I’ll give you a ride.” Oliver turned toward the trio standing in the kitchen. “Please, lock the doors this time.”
Oliver pulled the car down the driveway and steered toward town. “How are we going to get out of this?” He was asking himself more than Will.
“We just have to find the guy. Couldn’t have gotten far with those burns. The man had to have been in agony.”
“What about the radios? The phones? We have no way to get help,” Oliver said.
“It’s just a storm—it will pass,” Will replied. “And it’s one man against the entire town.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
Oliver traced the hillside, looking for the mystery man, but saw nothing more than a blanket of white.
He dropped Will at the police station and helped him dig out one of the police cruisers. The Christchurch police force did most of their work on foot since the town was so small, and all three officers lived within walking distance of the police station.
“Think you might hire more officers, with all that’s happened recently?” Oliver asked while scooping snow out from under one of the cruiser’s wheels.
“With the way today’s gone, we may want to focus on building a fire station first,” he replied.
Izzy lit a stack of kindling in the living-room fireplace, while Oliver checked all the doors and windows in the house, flipping the lights on as he went.