Bonechiller

by Graham McNamee

  Panic pounds through me. I bend back and bang my fist against the back of my right knee. It’s so stiff I have to punch twice more before it gives.

  I lunge across the seat of the snowmobile, flailing for the handlebars. Grabbing on, I pull myself forward on the seat and squeeze the accelerator.

  With a jolt that almost throws me, the Yamaha roars to life and lurches ahead. I gun the motor, aiming for the gap onto the lake and forgetting about the slant to the ice. I fly down the hill, going airborne for a second before hitting the ice. My chest slams forward against the bars, but my right hand keeps squeezing the accelerator. Swerving left, I zoom across the lake beneath the looming bluffs.

  The noise and shudder of the Yamaha rattle my brain, blocking any thoughts that aren’t my own.

  The bluffs drop away to low hills at my side. I risk a glance bàck.

  I can’t believe it! Fifty feet away, coming on impossibly fast, the beast is in a full galloping sprint, sure-footed on the slick surface. Gusts of steam blow from its nostril slits.

  I make myself face forward and bend low to lessen the wind drag. The skeleton of the ice factory flashes by. I pick out the marina lights. My finish line. Way, way too far away.

  The snowmobile is going full throttle and I’m keeping a straight aim. But that thing is just too freaking fast. I take a quick peek back.

  It’s gaining!

  My fist is cramping up on the accelerator, like I can squeeze more speed out of it by brute force.

  But the marina might as well be on Mars for any chance I have of reaching it before the beast takes me down.

  My rifle is strapped to the seat. I can feel it bumping my calf. But it’s useless against that thing.

  I can’t keep myself from looking back.

  Closer! A charging white blur. Not tiring. Could probably run all night.

  Out of nowhere, I see something sticking up from the ice directly ahead. The headlight flashes off an orange buoy, frozen in the ice.

  Only a fraction of a second to avoid a head-on collision. I pull to the right. Just as I’m about to fly past the buoy, I see where the ice has buckled around its base.

  Too late!

  The front ends of the skids catch on the bumps and twist the Yamaha around. It’s like a giant hand reaching out to spin me.

  I fight to keep my grip on the throttle as the darkness whirls around.

  Can’t stop! I stop, I die!

  With the rear end still fishtailing wildly, I gain some traction and buck forward. Suddenly, a white bulk appears dead ahead, racing toward me out of the dark. I swerve to avoid it and flash past the beast. It strikes out at me, claws whipping by my head, inches from taking off my ear.

  I pick up speed, flying over the ice. I search desperately for the marina lights.

  They’re gone. Snuffed out. My heart seizes up. Where’d they go? I’m driving blind.

  It takes a moment to find the shore, a gray blur.

  But it’s on my right now. I’m going the wrong way, back where I just came from. Gotta turn!

  Glancing over my shoulder I see the beast on my tail, ready to jump.

  Coming up on my right are the bare bones of the ice factory.

  On the open ice, I’m dead.

  I cut hard to the right and climb the shoreline with a teeth-cracking bounce. The steep incline threatens to flip me, but I make the top, hanging on for my life.

  The factory towers up.

  No time to think.

  Plunging into the ruins, I dodge between pillars where the walls used to be. The ground is covered in ankle-deep snow. Good for the snowmobile skids but bad for what might be hidden beneath, waiting to wipe me out.

  I have to slow to squeeze through openings, avoiding fallen timber, ducking under beams. I twist and turn in this rotting maze. Parts of the path I take are too tight for the beast. Buying me time.

  But I can’t just hunker down and hide in here. It’ll get to me. So I keep on, nearly getting decapitated by a low beam.

  A crash behind me, the sharp crack of wood breaking.

  My headlight jitters down what must have once been a long hallway, now stripped to its framework.

  I hear a splintering sound.

  I glance back through the bare ribs of the hall. The beast sweeps its arms to chop through two-by-fours like they’re toothpicks, making its own path through.

  I see an opening on my left and swerve, shooting out into the open again. I grip the accelerator tight and whip past Pike’s car, almost clipping the open back door.

  I race into the hills, back to the clearing. My only chance is to get to Ash. She’s got the firepower, maybe enough to scare it off. Make a stand.

  I climb the first hill, close to flipping. Just as I reach the top and start down, a noise rips through the night. The blast of Mason’s air horn, sounding from the peak of the bluff. It goes on and on. He’s spotted me—spotted it on my tail.

  I skirt the edge of the next rise but then have to climb up to the cleft in the bluffs that leads to the clearing. I can’t slow down, can’t look back.

  I push the snowmobile up … up!

  Taking the peak of the hill at full throttle, the snowmobile launches into the air, flying through the cleft and out the other side. One skid clips a rock and the Yamaha throws me.

  I tumble through the air. And hit hard. Feels like my chest has caved in.

  I’m rolling down an incline, skidding to a halt at the bottom. My face rests on the ground with snow in my mouth, in my eyes. I spit out slush and suck in a breath of air.

  I try to look around, deafened by the endless blare of the horn echoing off the bluffs. Then I make out something else.

  “Danny!” Shouted from close by.

  I push myself to my knees, searching.

  “Danny! Over here.” Ash.

  She’s moving toward me, shotgun in one hand, the other clamped around Howie’s wrist. He’s struggling with her, weakly. I concentrate on getting to my feet. I make it halfway up, then Ash is there to lean on.

  She shouts something I can’t understand over the scream of the horn. Then the noise cuts off and I make out what she’s saying.

  “Where is it?”

  I turn to look back.

  Stepping through the cleft into the clearing, the beast locks on to us.

  A riot of barking erupts from the huskies on the bluff. The beast doesn’t even glance up. Slowly it makes its way down to the floor of the hollow, nostrils flaring. Tasting our fear.

  Howie’s straining in Ash’s grip, trying to break free and go to the beast.

  “Hold him!” Ash pushes him at me.

  I grab on to Howie.

  Ash lifts her shotgun, pumping a shell into the chamber. But before she can shoot, a blast of gunfire splits the air. The beast flinches at the impact, swinging its head around to find the source.

  I spot Pike just outside the tunnel, his shotgun on the beast.

  Ash gets off a shot, peppering its thick torso with buckshot.

  The pellets bounce off like hailstones. All that did was piss it off more.

  In a freeze-frame moment, we realize we’re screwed.

  Then Pike yells: “Move! Here! Down the tunnel!”

  Down the tunnel? That’s crazy! But we’re cornered.

  “Go!” Ash pushes me and Howie forward. “Go!”

  Pike fires off another round to cover us.

  Flanked by Ash, I drag Howie across to the opening in the rock face. The entrance gapes like the mouth of a tomb.

  Ash leads us into the inky black. I rush to join her, with Howie in tow.

  “Stay on the left side!” Pike runs to meet us. “Left side! Left side!”

  A white light flares to life ahead. Ash with her flashlight, showing the way.

  “I’ll take him.” Pike reaches out.

  I hand Howie over and start down the tunnel.

  “Stay left!” Pike barks. “The mines are set just before the cave.”

  Down and down and down
, we stumble through the dark. Ash’s light jumps around in crazy arcs.

  I keep moving in a dazed panic, wondering if we’ve taken a wrong turn, plunging lost into the guts of the earth. My legs go on automatic, carrying me deeper. I focus on the swinging light. Don’t lose her. Don’t want to be alone down here.

  Ash skids to a stop. I pull up, my shoes skating on the slick surface.

  “Hold on,” she says, breathless.

  “What?” I pant.

  “We’re here.”

  I see the blue glow and the curve in the tunnel.

  She gives me a hard stare. “Slower now. Eyes on the floor!”

  I nod. The shivers running through me aren’t from what lies ahead, or from the cold. The freeze can’t touch me anymore. What I’m feeling goes deeper. Under my skin, inside my head. Ghost whispers.

  I know Howie’s hearing it sharp and clear.

  Pike emerges from the gloom, half carrying Howie.

  Ash disappears past the bend in the rock and I follow.

  She hugs the left wall, her back brushing along the rock, moving as if she’s on the edge of a cliff looking at a thousand-foot drop.

  But what she’s staring at are two black shadows, positioned at center and right on the tunnel floor.

  The twins. Duct-taped, wire-tangled bundles of death.

  The floor is black ice and smooth rock. I focus on Ash’s path, walking an invisible tightrope.

  It takes only seconds. But seconds stretch down here in the dark. Making me sweat.

  Finally, she’s clear.

  “Go, man.” Pike hurries me. “Go!”

  My left foot skids on a slick patch. Keeping my spine pressed to the wall, I shift my right foot over to join it.

  A salty tear of sweat blurs my vision. I blink it away, and it runs down the side of my nose to hang on the tip of my nostril.

  My heart skips a beat. Below me sits enough TNT to vaporize me. How much pressure to set it off?

  I sniffle at the sweat, trying to suck it in. As my nose twitches, the drop falls.

  Slow motion rules my world. I can see exactly where it’s going to land.

  Right dead center.

  I watch the drop trickle over the metal surface of the trigger. And … nothing.

  Keep moving. I shift my feet along.

  My stare is locked on my shoes when Ash takes my arm and pulls me to safety.

  I look back at Pike leading Howie past the mines. He’s safe in the cave before I can blink.

  “Take the right side,” Pike tells us. “I’ll take left. Stay low!”

  Ash pulls me with her.

  Pike takes up position by the mound of bones hidden in the fog.

  He drops Howie beside him and grabs a handful of shotgun cartridges from his pocket. Ash is doing the same, the brats going into combat mode. Me and Ash are farther from the entrance. Over her shoulder, I see the beast’s discarded shell. I keep my eyes on it for a second to make sure that’s all it is. But it sits motionless, like a gargoyle, staring at us with those empty sockets.

  When I look over at Pike, I gasp.

  Howie’s broken away from his side and is stumbling toward the entrance. “Howie!” Pike drops the shotgun and launches himself in pursuit. But Howie’s closing in on the mouth of the tunnel. Pike’s shout echoes off the walls.

  He reaches out as he runs. Too late.

  Howie’s about to step into the tunnel.

  Then the earth rips apart.

  Thunder cracks the air. Flames burst from the tunnel and a fist of superheated air slams me back.

  The earth shakes, the air too hot and smoky to breathe. I cough. Coughing turns to puking. Can’t breathe. Can’t see. Everything is fog and smoke.

  Through the blue haze, rocks tumble from the roof, crashing on the floor without a sound. The world has gone deaf.

  I squint tears out of my eyes.

  Then I feel this pressure inside my skull growing stronger. With a painful pop, my eardrums screech back to life.

  I crouch, moaning.

  A scream of pure agony breaks against the rock walls, throwing back echoes that make me wince. I cover my ears, searching for the source.

  Through gusts of fog, I make out a body on the floor across the cave. It rolls over onto its back.

  Howie! Still alive.

  There’s blood gushing from his nose, and he’s shaking with a coughing fit. But he’s still breathing.

  That scream shakes the stone under my knees.

  Something moves in the mist by the cave entrance.

  The fog parts, and the beast staggers into the cave. Its right front leg has been blown apart, ending in jagged spikes of bone. Its hide is scorched black on that side.

  The mouth hangs open, the long blades of its teeth gleaming blue. Its scream deepens into a ragged growl.

  Those silver eyes meet mine.

  It rears up on its hind legs.

  The beast takes a step closer, mouth stretching wide.

  I’m dead!

  A blast of gunfire erupts next to me. I spin and see Ash with her pistol raised. The giant flinches as bullets bounce off its chest, shoulder, forehead. Ash empties her mag on it.

  The last shot catches the beast in the left eye, making it screech and bow its head. As Ash’s gun clicks over and over on an empty chamber, the creature howls.

  A fat drop of liquid silver runs down from the eye.

  “The eyes,” I croak, voice raw from the smoke. “Go for the eyes.”

  Ash ejects the empty magazine and digs in her pocket. She fumbles the new mag out and drops it. It clatters on the rocks, eaten instantly by the tide of mist. Ash sweeps her hand in the fog, feeling for the ammo.

  The beast steps toward us, bleeding a new silver tear from its wounded eye. Ash isn’t going to find the mag fast enough.

  Then the beast stops, shaking a rear leg like it’s caught.

  Howie’s lying right in its path, coughing and hacking, eyes squinted shut. He reaches out and grabs blindly at whatever just bumped into him.

  “Pike!” His arm hooks around the beast’s ankle. “Pike?”

  The giant’s head snaps downward.

  “Pike?” Howie pleads, like his brother can still save him.

  With a backward kick the giant dislodges him. Howie flies toward the far side of the cave and crashes on the mound of bones.

  The beast turns to me.

  I try to look away. But I’m frozen, can’t even blink.

  I open my mouth to warn Ash. She’s still searching for her ammo.

  But before I can speak, a wild yell ricochets off the walls.

  Pike emerges from the mist in a burst of speed, racing across the cave. He rushes up behind the giant, leaps into the air and lands on its back.

  It twists to see what’s there.

  Pike clings to its back. He wraps his arms and legs as far as he can around it, digging his heels into the beast’s ribs.

  Pike’s insane!

  The beast tries to throw him. But Pike won’t budge.

  It’s like he’s riding the mechanical bull at the Legion Hall. Like if he just stays on long enough he’ll win.

  Pike said he had a backup plan. If this is it, we’re screwed.

  I hear the click as Ash slaps a mag into the stock of her gun.

  The beast twists, reaching back with the razor claws on its remaining front paw. Pike lets out a howl as they snag his foot, ripping off his boot. A spray of his blood runs down the beast’s ribs.

  As Pike holds on tight, he reaches for his jacket pocket with his right hand.

  No bullet is going to puncture that armor. The eyes are the only soft spot, and there’s no way Pike can take aim at them from his position.

  Ash searches for a clear shot while the beast bucks, shrieking with rage. Pike yanks something out of his pocket. Not a gun.

  The beast stretches, contorting to grab the pest clamped against its spine.

  Pike lifts what he’s holding up to his mouth.

&nb
sp; A bundle of dynamite, six sticks taped together. He uses his teeth to rip off a strip of paper, then slaps the six-pack hard against the beast’s back. And it sticks.

  Sticky bomb! It comes back to me, Pike talking about soldiers using them against tanks.

  Pike dodges the claws, pressing frantically at something on the bundle.

  As the beast takes another swipe, Pike falls to the floor with a loud grunt. He’s swallowed by the mist, and I make out his shadow crawling away. The beast turns to get him.

  My eyes find the six-pack stuck to the beast. There’s something attached to the bundle of dynamite and wires—a digital watch.

  A timer. Counting down!

  “Get down!” Ash shouts, tackling me to the floor.

  The explosion cracks the earth apart.

  And the world ends.

  THIRTY-THREE

  The end of the world hurts like a bitch.

  I wake to darkness and suffocation. My whole body convulses. I try to suck in air, but there’s only smoke and choking dust.

  I’m buried alive, a thousand tons of rock flattening my chest. My body starts bucking, trying to shake the pressure threatening to crack my ribs.

  I open my eyes. They’re blind and burning with the dust.

  Then a miracle. The weight of the mountain on me shifts the tiniest bit. I get a wisp of air into my lungs.

  As I blink tears out of my eyes, my vision clears. I see the blue cave. The roof hasn’t fallen in. Yet.

  I’m not buried. It’s—

  Ash. Lying on top of me. I manage to worm my way out from under her.

  She’s coughing now, coming to. There’s blood running from her nose, but Ash is still in one piece.

  Clods of dirt and stones tumble from the roof like hail. Boulders have crashed to the floor. Something wet hits my cheek, making me flinch. I reach to swipe it off, thinking it’s blood. But my hand comes away wet with water.

  Water?

  The roof is dripping a steady rain. In spots, thin streams are pouring down. Above the hollow space of the cave, and who knows how many feet of rock, sits the weight of Lake Simcoe.

  More drops hit my forehead.

  Get out of here. Now!

  But just as I move to get up, something stops me cold. Through the gusts of smoke I see a thick albino leg, the long spikes of its claws dug into the floor.