Noel pushed himself up a little and peered up at the windows surrounding him. He couldn't see anything but the foggy rush of white swirling around the car. He heard nothing but the wind.
He slowly sat up so his eyes were just above the bottoms of the windows. He scanned around carefully, ready to sink back down if he saw Harvey looking in his direction.
At first all he saw was snow. The landscape blinded him, muting other colors and making it hard to see what would otherwise stand out from the stark whiteness. He pressed his nose to the window looking toward the cottage. He saw nothing.
Then Harvey appeared from behind the large snow bank. Winterlake stood on the other side of him, an ominous prison that employed its own prisoners as guards to keep Noel from escaping. Harvey searched through the storm, standing in place. He spun around, his eyes narrowing.
Viewing him clearly now, Noel saw at least a dozen bullet holes were drilled in the front of his torso with a couple coming out the back as exit wounds. He wore a checkered shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing huge forearms like ham shanks. Blue jean overalls stretched up and wrapped over his broad shoulders. The fabric was torn and stained with blood. His matted hair was short and brown, and he had a thick beard. There was fire in his eyes as he searched for the little boy. His knuckles were white from holding the hatchet so tightly. He was thirty yards away.
Noel glanced at the steering wheel and the ignition in the front of the car. Harvey was far enough for him to get the car started and drive away. All he had to do was quietly slip into the front seat and he could make his escape. He clutched the keys tightly in his hand as he reached for the seat in front of him to begin to climb over. But something felt funny about his grip on the keys.
He looked down at his hand and realized they weren't there at all.
Frantic, he searched the floor, lifting up the foot mats. He checked along the back seat, stuffing his fingers into any crack in the fabric he could. But they weren't in the car.
All the flesh on his body went white. He must have dropped them somewhere in the snow outside, maybe when he dove for the door.
He peered out the window again and saw Harvey take a few strides toward the house. He reached out and grabbed the door handle. Slower than he'd ever done anything before, he pried it open so it wouldn't make a sound. The door whined a little when he pushed it open, but the sound was muffled by the whipping wind and Harvey hadn't heard it. His back was turned.
Noel searched in a panic through the snow in front of the door. It came up to just above the wheels on the car. If he dropped the keys in the messy trail he'd left leading to the car, they might be impossible to find. But the rest of the surface was pristine like the finished layer of icing on a professionally made cake. His eyes searched the whiteness, barely able to discern the slight changes in hue that differentiated snow and shadow. But then his eyes caught something. There was an angular hole cut in the snow. A small one.
Noel plunged his hand into it. It froze immediately, and he worked his fingers around as quickly as possible to get the keys before he lost feeling in them.
With his hand in the snow bank, he realized it was like finding a needle in a haystack. But they had to be close by. He tried to keep his arm from moving too much, trying to keep it on the mark.
He glanced up. Harvey had turned around and was staring at him now.
Noel gasped.
Harvey gave the hatchet a little flick with his wrist and more blood splashed onto the pristine snow. Then he came for him.
Everything in Noel's body froze up save for his arm and his fingers. He worked it madly through the snow now, pulling up big snowballs with his fist, but no keys. An inadvertent whine filled his throat in his franticness, and his hand was going cold fast. Soon he wouldn't be able to feel anything. But just before he went completely numb, something jabbed the back of one of his knuckles. It sent dull pain into his hand. His fingers worked around, grasping at the object. His hand was so cold that when he clutched it he wasn't aware he was clutching it at all. Noel pulled it out of the snow and held it in front of him to see the muted sunlight twinkling on the wet car keys.
Harvey moved through the snow in long strides. His seven-foot-tall frame carried him over it easily. The hatchet was ready.
Noel didn't even shut the back door. He clambered into the front and jammed the key into the ignition. He turned it and the car hissed and whined, but the engine turned over. In his panic, he jabbed his foot onto the gas pedal. The engine screamed but the car didn't move. He looked at the steering wheel and the gear shift next to him. In his peripheral vision through the frosted glass and the falling snow, he could make out a dark shape growing larger. He saw the letters next to the gear shift and remembered Emily telling him 'D'. He grabbed it and tried to pull it down, but it wouldn't budge. A thousand things ran through his mind and he struggled to find the right piece of information.
the brake, something hissed in his mind.
He looked down and saw the fat pedal next to the gas. He was too small to sit comfortably on the seat and reach the pedals, so his butt just slightly pressed against the edge of the seat as he hung off the top of the steering wheel like monkey bars and reached for them. He held the brake down and tried the gear shift again, getting stuck on Neutral and then finally bringing it down to Drive.
The dark shape next to him grew larger. Maybe right beside the door now.
Noel hit the gas.
The wheels spun uselessly in the snow.
"Please!" Noel cried. He hit the pedal again and the wheels spun.
Harvey had reached the car now. The hatchet went back, then it was swung forward. It crumpled the metal just above the driver's window, causing the glass to shatter inward. It splashed against Noel's side and he shrieked in fright. Harvey was so tall that all Noel saw was the scowl on his face as he pried the hatchet out of the aluminum.
And though his heart pounded and there was chaos and death surrounding him, he had a moment of serenity. In his mind he pictured the road stretching from the mouth of the property through the trees and out to freedom. Just the road. The safe, peaceful lane. He saw himself driving along it.
Harvey reached into the window.
Noel hit the gas again.
The car rolled forward, passing through Harvey's outstretched arm. It slowed to a stop, and Noel put more pressure on the accelerator. The sedan made incremental gains, crawling inch by inch as the wheels spun furiously.
Harvey took a single stride and he was next to the window again. But the car found traction and lumbered forward. It got some momentum and soon coasted, trudging through the tall but light snow.
Noel punched the gas pedal too hard and the tires spun again. The car pitched and veered to the side, hitting a high snow bank and threatening to stop. He adjusted the pressure and steered out of it, allowing the car to regain its steady crawl. Snow crunched loudly under the wheels as the wind howled in the open back door and the broken window next to him. He shivered as the snow blew in his face. He couldn't tell if he had been injured by Harvey's attack, but his eyes were glued to the road ahead of him, or at least the slight shape of what looked like the road under the snow.
He turned the wheel, feeling like an oversized frisbee to him, and carefully guided the car. He was terrified, but the feeling was exhilarating. He was driving, and soon he would be free of this place.
Black smoke came out from under the hood. It billowed out and climbed into the sky in two dark pillars on either side. Something in the engine ground and chugged. The car's frame rattled. Noel tried to adjust the steering wheel as the car headed into the curve in the road, but it locked up. The power steering was gone and Noel didn't have the strength to wrench the wheel around. Panicked, he hit the brake and then the gas, neither of which helped him any.
The sedan drove headfirst into a large snow bank, grinding to a halt. The engine chugged and then it died. The impact was slight, but it was enough to throw Noel against the steeri
ng wheel, making him bounce off and fall over the console. His head was in the footwell on the passenger side with his feet sticking up in the air. His ribs hurt and his head throbbed.
When he righted himself, he stared out the broken window to see the long road to freedom stretching ahead of him without end. Behind him, the cottage stood, solemnly watching. His escape was a failure.
He feebly opened the driver-side door and fell into the snow. All his strength was gone. All his motivation was gone. He lay sideways in the bank, his eyes just above the surface. He began to cry.
Emily stood by a tree on the other side of the road. She looked at him pitifully.
"Emily," he pleaded.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"Help me," he said.
"I'm sorry," she said again. She started to cry.
Noel's face twisted in his anguish and confusion. "What for?"
"I can't let you leave," she said, her face streaked with pain. "I'm so lonely without you. You have to stay."
Noel was horrified. He looked at her like she had been the one behind his mother's death all along. His mouth hung open. He didn't have the words to speak.
He dropped his head into the snow. He wanted to die. And when he looked up again, she was gone.
Repercussions
He lay in the snow, cold all over. Frozen in a frozen wasteland. The wreck of the car sat behind him, half-buried in the snow bank. It had only come to a gentle stop, but it may as well have been a smoldering ruin as far as his ill-fated escape was concerned.
The blizzard of whiteness surrounded him from every angle. And through it all—the only thing visible—sat the cottage. It stared down at him almost with a smirk.
Come back inside, he heard it say in his mind.
Noel crawled forward. He knew there was nowhere else to go; he was in no shape to try and trek through the wilderness. Right now the house was his only salvation. A piece of his heart broke apart with every step he took as he climbed up to his feet. He moved forward, collapsing periodically. The journey back was rough, but Harvey seemed to be gone. Emily was gone, too.
It was just him and the house.
Come back inside... it's warm, it cooed.
The façade of it smiled at him. The door was so inviting.
When he got to it, he twisted the handle and spilled inside along with the tall pile of snow that had battered up against it.
A rush of warmth enveloped him, just as the house had promised. He lay on the floor shivering, his teeth chattering.
A hand scooped underneath his arm. He looked up feebly to see Emily standing over him.
"Come on, I'll help you up," she said. "Easy does it."
Noel threw her hand off of him.
"Noel?"
He stood up. "Get away from me!"
"Noel! I'm sorry!"
He was already up the stairs, trying to get as far away from her as possible. Sorry didn't cut it. It didn't even begin to describe the depths of his pain and the sting of her betrayal. She chased after him, and he fled to the master bedroom at the end of the hall, shutting the door behind him.
Still in his coat and boots, he gazed out the window overlooking the lake. It was such a peaceful view, and the cottage was warm, at least compared to outside. It made him wonder for a moment why he would even want to venture out. He wondered if that was an effect Winterlake had on people.
His depression flared up. He glanced over at his father's bed and saw the messy and sprawled sheets sitting halfway on the floor. Everything else in the room had been untouched. All the furniture and the little knickknacks and objects strewn about must have remained there untouched from when Emily's mother Mary occupied this space. Noel found it sad that all his father did was come up and sleep in the bed and get dressed and leave again, each day.
This was life now. There was no escape. He had been a fool to harbor any hope within him. Maybe it was better for him to stay. Maybe his father had been right; he had been raging against him, bitterly opposing him at every step. For all his flaws, maybe his father truly wanted what was best for him. Maybe all he needed to do was relax and let go... let the house take care of him.
There was a knock at the door.
"Noel," Emily said on the other side of it.
"Go away."
There was a sigh, and then Emily walked through the closed door, appearing inside the room. "Noel," she said tenderly.
He said nothing, staring out at the storm. The feeling in his cheeks was just beginning to come back.
Emily approached. "I'm so sorry," she said. "Really. But I... I just couldn't let you leave. I don't know how to say it."
"You don't have to say anything at all," he said bitterly.
"Noel, please."
"Please, nothing!" he shouted.
"You don't understand," she said. "When you live here long enough, it's like you... crave to be around other people. And the ghosts—the others who live here—they don't cut it anymore. They all wander around, and they all feel so cold. But when new people move in, it feels like going out into the sun after you've been inside too long. It's like we need it. Like it's our food or something. Your dad doesn't even seem that warm, but you... you make me feel like a kid again. Before you showed up I just felt so old. But I'm only seven. I'll always just be seven. And I don't know why I stopped you. You were getting ready to leave and I was sad but I thought I was okay with it and... and when you left I just panicked. I couldn't let you."
"I don't want to hear it," he said.
"I'm sorry. I know what I did was wrong, but—"
"Shut up!" he cried. "Just stop it! Stop talking to me! I don't wanna hear anything more from you!" He turned around. Tears rubbed his eyes red.
"Noel."
"Go away, Emily! Stop bothering me! I had a chance to get out of here, but you ruined it!"
"Noel..."
""I don't want to see you ever again! If I'm stuck here, then you stay on one side of the house and I'll stay on the other!"
"Noel!" Her face was frozen in fear. It wasn't until she said his name so sharply that he stopped and realized something was wrong.
"What?"
"They're coming," she said.
"Who's coming?"
"Everyone. I can feel them. Noel, they're coming for you. They're upset that you tried to leave. I didn't want you to leave, but they really didn't want you to leave..."
Trapped in a Small Space
She was right. There was an immediate shift in the house. The temperature seemed to drop by ten degrees. Noel felt like he was dunked into a cold pool. He stared at the door behind her and realized that he was trapped in the last room at the end of the hall upstairs. He had to get out.
He rushed to the door and opened it. The hallway stretched in front of him, revealing no malevolent spirits in his immediate view. But what lurked around the corners, hiding in each doorway?
Noel sprinted. He didn't dare look left and right as he passed the rooms, but he felt the presence that Emily warned him about. His coat and boots were still on and he was ready to flee out into the snow. Where he would go, he had no idea, but he had angered the house's inhabitants and he knew they wouldn't let him make another escape attempt.
He came to the top of the stairs and peered down to the entrance and the edge of the kitchen.
Movement. Footsteps. Shadows played in strange ways downstairs that his frazzled brain didn't have time to comprehend. They were coming for him and they had already cut off his escape.
Downstairs wouldn't work. He spun around and stared down the hallway again, frantically deciding where to go.
The door to the attic rattled. Silty lines of dust floated down from it.
Noel looked at it with frightened eyes and swallowed. When he turned his attention back to the hallway, Mary was standing in the doorway of the master bedroom. Her white nightgown hung elegantly from her thin, sick frame. Her face was all sharp and angular, and her eyes were big with rage.
The air in
the house condensed, squeezing Noel's lungs. He felt like if he didn't get out of this situation they would explode. Out of instinct, he ran to his bedroom and shut the door behind him. He backed up, staring at the door, waiting to see if he would be followed.
A hand fell on his shoulder and spun him around violently.
"Don't worry, you're safe in here!" Barry said, sitting on the edge of his bed. His cold hand gripped him tightly by the shoulder; almost painfully. In his other hand he held his pipe which he inserted between his lips. He took a drag, calmly puffing the pungent smoke next to Noel's face. "They're coming to kill you, Noel," he said. "But you'll be safe in here with me."
Barry put on his warmest face, but his own sharp features betrayed his act. Noel shivered as he gazed at him. Where he may have been fooled before, he wasn't now. None of the ghosts wanted to help him; he knew that now. His body went cold all over and he tried to pull away from Barry.
Sensing this, Barry dropped his façade and gripped Noel's collar, yanking him right to his face. "Do you know how I got here?" he said with glee. His breath stank. "When I worked as a professor at the university, there was a young student of mine named Florence."
Noel squirmed, struggling to break free of his grip. But every time Noel reached out to push him away, his hands just sank through Barry's freezing and ethereal body.
"I admired Florence for a long time, but she resisted my advances. Walking one night to her car after a late class, I followed her with a gift in my hand. I gave her one final chance, but she rebuked me again, so I gave it to her. All six rounds, straight into her heart. Noel... my, my... you should have seen the look on her face. Her wide eyes reflecting the moonlight as a single thread of blood extended from her lip. In the end, she was with me." His grip around Noel's collar tightened. The fabric twisted against his throat, choking him. He pulled him even closer, his features absolutely hideous now as they animated with excitement telling his story.
"But alas, many years after that, having escaped from the watchful eyes of the detectives working the case, I was coming home to this very cottage late one night. A terrible rainstorm came down, slicking the road and obscuring my vision. I spun out and crashed into a tree before I even knew what happened. Right where you just crashed, in fact! The only difference is that I got this for my troubles!" He ripped open his sky-blue shirt with both hands, violently popping the buttons off their threads and revealing his chest. There was a gaping hole in the flesh over his heart. A dark-red, cavernous wound.
The Box Set of Hauntings and Horrors Page 33