The Winter People

by Bret Tallent

  Sarah turned and headed toward the back of the cabin, and the bedroom that she had all to herself. "See you in the morning. What time are we getting up?"

  Mike answered her from the top of the stairs; it was directed at Nick as much as her. "About seven, Sarah. We need to leave here by eight if we want to make it to the basin by ten." He started descending the stairs and watched Sarah as she passed the base of the stairs and disappeared around the corner.

  "Do you think we need to go look for them?" Mike queried Nick as he hit the bottom step.

  "Yeah, I suppose so," Nick said, obviously disgusted, "Do you want to go with me?"

  "No. But I better in case you need the help." He raised his eyebrows in a gesture that said, "Oh well, let's do it," and then they bundled back up and headed out the door. A biting wind greeted them as they did so. This time, Mike had the presence of mind to grab a flashlight off of the kitchen counter before they left.

  ***

  In the middle of the black ahead of them in the distance was a surreal glow. It disappeared then reappeared with each crest and valley they traversed. The closer they came to it, the more the glow turned into a discernible light. A single headlight directed off into a field. By the time they had cleared the last hill, the last obstacle between themselves and the lucent scene, they were nearly upon it.

  Nick and Mike's eyes widened as the radiance illuminated the Jeep lying on its side. One headlight was buried in a drift and cast the ethereal glow that encompassed the scene with a nimbus. Like a dead Cyclops with its singular eye opened and glazed, the other headlight stared blankly into space. Nick slowed to a stop about thirty feet from the wreck.

  "Jesus Christ!" His words trembling, Nick sat there holding tightly onto the wheel afraid to let go. He was afraid to let go of a piece of solid reality in what seemed like a very bad dream. There was no windshield to cast a reflection, either from the Jeep's headlights, or his own. They could tell right away that the Jeep was empty.

  "Jesus!" he repeated. Nick turned to Mike. The expression on Mike's face told him that this was indeed happening.

  "Oh shit! Shit! We-we'd better see what's going on Nick! Maybe they were thrown from it . . . or. . ." Mike trailed off then released his seatbelt and opened his door.

  Nick did the same. Neither of them said anything for a long time. They walked slowly to the heap, the icy wind biting at their exposed parts. They did not notice it. The wind howled and screeched and screamed at them, but they did not notice that either. It was a strange and eerie sound as though it were passing through the leafless branches of some nearby trees. But they did not notice it, or the fact that there were no trees nearby.

  Nick knelt at the windshield and peered in, one hand on the top of the cab to steady him. The insides were a shambles, broken glass and ski equipment everywhere. He noticed the blood on the door window against the ground and his heart skipped. Then he saw that the driver side door was gone. Not opened, but simply not there. He gasped. Then his eyes focused on something much closer to his face.

  There was something on the fragment of windshield that remained in the Jeep. It was fluttering in the breeze and it took a while for Nick to ascertain just what it was. When it finally hit him he gasped again and stood up, staring at it. His gaze followed a small trail of dark splotches on the snow that looked like oil in the available light. He knew that it was blood. The trail came out the windshield and across the hood, where the spots had hit and run down the hood towards the ground and frozen in route.

  The trail of blood hit the road where he was standing, continued on toward the opposite side of the road then abruptly ceased half way there. This, and the fact that most of the windshield was laying in pieces on the inside of the cab told him that they hadn't been thrown from it. Mike had gone around to the other side of the Jeep. Finding nothing, he returned to where Nick now stood and followed his gaze to the trail of blood.

  "Well, it looks like they climbed out and somebody helped them. We didn't pass anyone though. Th-they surely wouldn't have gone back the other way?" Mike offered. He seemed so calm that Nick just looked at him as if it were the first time he had heard English. He was numb. He raised his arm to point at the tuft of hair and skin hanging on the fragment of windshield but he could not feel himself do it.

  "Oh shit Nick, one of them is hurt! They must have gone into town to find a doctor!" Mike still didn't get it, or didn't want to get it. Nick felt a surge of anger rise up in him. Not really anger at Mike, but anger at the absurdity of the situation, the helplessness of it, and the implications.

  "Damn it! They didn't walk away! That's someone's hair and scalp there!" Nick was still pointing at it, "That's someone's blood scattered across the snow!" He looked at Mike in disbelief, "Somebody dragged them out of there, and not too gently either! Can't you see that?!" Nick realized that he had been yelling. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to snap at you. But…just look at this."

  Mike was stoic, apparently trying to absorb what Nick was saying and still maintain control. "Get real man! Why would someone want to do that, out here in the middle of nowhere? In the middle of the fucking night? That doesn't make any sense!"

  "I don't know. But that's how it looks to me. You got a better explanation?"

  "No. But let's not jump to any conclusions. Let's go back to the Ranger Station and see if it's been reported, or who we contact, or whatever." Mike walked past Nick towards the car, his expression unchanged.

  Nick stood there for a moment longer, trembling. As he turned toward his car he noticed the ravenous cry of the wind. His stomach churned and his skin broke out in gooseflesh. He peered off into the darkness to either side of the road. He had a very bad feeling in his gut about everything here. But even that did not explain why he was suddenly so afraid.

  Nick ran back to the car and started the engine. Driving carefully so as not to fall off the road and get stuck, he turned the car around and headed back the way they had come. He headed back to the Ranger Station.

  CHAPTER 3

  The telephone's ring startled Hayden awake. It was not a deep sleep, nor was it a restful one; Hayden was having a nightmare about Ellis. The wind howled outside his bedroom and thumped against the window trying to gain entrance. Hayden ignored it and reached for the phone. He didn't have to search for it or fumble around in the dark as so many people do. Through many years of his job and simply having it in the same position for so long he knew exactly where it was. Hayden liked things neat and in order.

  He picked it up on the second ring and beside him his wife barely stirred. She too was used to late phone calls and ignored them most of the time. Besides, she had always been a much heavier sleeper than Hayden. He didn't bother turning on the light, he just glanced at the LED readout of his alarm clock. The green glow indicated that it was 12:30 in the morning. He had only been asleep for about two hours. He cleared his throat and answered.

  "Hello?" His voice was soft and deep. Though barely above a whisper, it commanded authority and didn't sound the least bit groggy.

  "Hayden? This is Johnny." Hayden recognized his voice immediately. Although he sounded more like a teenager whose voice hadn't quite finished changing yet, Johnny Kaostiwa was nearly forty-seven. He'd been a Park Ranger here for over fifteen years, and fishing buddies with Hayden for the last ten.

  Johnny was a likeable enough man who didn't talk very much about himself. Hayden knew that he was half Ute Indian and lived with his grandfather, his only living relative. His round, flat face had a long scar that started over the right eyebrow. It clipped the far right corner of his lid, and then continued down his cheek to finish up in the center of his lower jaw bone. This, along with his not too debilitating limp, he had received in the first gulf war. All compliments of an RPG thank you very much. Hayden also knew that he wouldn't have bothered him unless it was important.

  "Yeah Johnny, what is it?"

  "Didn't mean to wake you Hayden, but I think we got a problem out here on Route 14, About four miles
south of us out here at the Station." Johnny paused and Hayden could hear some voices in the background. He noticed some excitement in all of them, including Johnny's. His years of experience had taught him to hear the whole story and then ask questions. He kept silent and let Johnny continue.

  "It seems some kids are stayin' out at Bud's place for a couple of weeks on a ski trip. Anyway, two of 'em fell behind comin' home from Steamboat tonight. When. . ." he paused and there were more voices in the background, "Nick Boscoe and Mike Gallegos, their friends, returned to look for them. They found the other guy's Jeep turned over on the road and there wasn't anyone around." Johnny paused expecting Hayden to ask him something. When there was no reply, he continued.

  "The windshield had been broken out and there was blood out into the road." Johnny paused and there were more background voices. He was obviously getting his facts straight from this Nick and Mike as he relayed it.

  "Just great," Hayden thought, "skiers. They don't know the roads and they come up here and flip a Jeep…Probably drunk too."

  "Hayden? Hayden?"

  "Yeah Johnny, I'm here. Go ahead."

  "Anyway, we checked the hospital over in Steamboat, and even called all the doctors around. Nobody's seen 'em."

  This time Hayden couldn't wait, "What do you mean nobody's seen them?"

  “Just that Hayden. It hasn't been reported to anyone around here except me, and now you. I checked the authorities in Steamboat, Craig, and Hayden. I even woke up ol' Doc Willis. They're just gone! And if they tried to walk anywhere, well, it's damn near fifty below out there as it is, and with the wind chill. . ." Johnny waited for what he had said to sink in. He wanted to make sure that Hayden was ready before he told him the last of it.

  There was a long pause on the other end and Hayden was about to ask Johnny a few things but he got this feeling in his gut that there was more. He kept his composure and prompted Johnny to continue, "Go on."

  "Nick said that it looked to him like someone pulled them out of the Jeep. The driver side door had been ripped off and was no where around. There was a tuft of hair stuck in the window frame and a trail of blood went out from there into the middle of the road then just stopped." Johnny was very somber as he relayed this last item; he obviously felt that it was something more than an accident.

  Hayden sat there silent for a moment, taking it all in. No, it didn't sound good at all. His stomach had suddenly turned sour and he had a very bad feeling about this. If you could have seen his face in the darkness, set in it along with the wrinkles below his cheeks, there was a scowl. A look that would have told you he knew it was going to be a bad one. Johnny had pretty much answered his questions without him having to ask any. Hayden decided that if there were anything else, he could wait until he saw them face to face.

  Damn, he didn't want to go out in this cold, "All right Johnny, I'll be right there, then we can go out to the wreck. Tell those two to stay put until I get there! I'll want to talk to them."

  "One more thing Hayden, there's a blizzard movin' in. It'll probably be here in a few hours. Anything you gotta do out there, you'd better do it quick. Bye Hayden."

  "Yeah, bye Johnny." That was just great, Hayden thought. He now knew this was going to be a bad one. This had already been their coldest winter in decades. They had been hit with blizzard after blizzard and were already buried under seven feet of snow. A warm day would be anything above zero, and at night, it was forty below. Twice already this winter it had hit minus sixty.

  Hayden remembered the blizzard of '78, although he was just a kid then. It had reached sixty below one night down in the flats around Delta and Grand Junction. The next morning when they went to drop hay off the sled to the cattle, they had found them all frozen to death. Standing there with their eyes opened and glazed over, staring stupidly off at nothing. Hayden had never seen anything like it. He shivered at the brief memory.

  He recalled other times when it had snowed this hard up here. There would always be an avalanche in the pass and they would be cut off for weeks at a time. But he had never remembered it ever being this cold, and never for this long. Even the blizzard of '78 seemed warm by comparison.

  There was a double click followed by a warbling monotone buzz to his right. He looked down stupidly and realized that he still had the receiver in his hand. He sat it back in the saddle and turned on the small bedside lamp. The glow of the sixty watt bulb exploded on his retinas and caused him to squint in pain. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the light and he looked over at his wife.

  She was still sleeping. Used to him he guessed. She pulled the covers up tighter around her face so that all he could see was the back of her head, one eye, and the side of her nose. Beneath the blankets the rest of her was a nondescript blob except for her buttocks which he could make out clearly, protruding toward him in a nice round arch. How nice it would be he thought to climb back under the covers and snuggle up to her warmth. Forget the outside or what he had to do. Just start caressing her body, gently wake her up, and make love to her.

  Hayden sighed and swung his feet over the side of the bed. His Hanes briefs were pulled askew and he righted them. As he stood up from the bed, the bones and joints of his legs and feet creaked and popped. Each step he took towards the bathroom was announced by the same noises, though slightly muffled in the carpet upon which he walked. He reached the bathroom quickly as it was a part of their bedroom and closed the door before he turned on the light. He knew the light was much brighter in here and might just wake up Barbara.

  Hayden looked at himself in the mirror, his once jet black hair was now paled with flecks of grey. Although it was predominately at the temples, which Barbara said made him look distinguished, he felt that it made him look old. In truth he only looked to be thirty nine or forty, but he had recently begun to feel old. His arms were still stout and well defined, and his chest still blocky and hard. As he stood there staring at himself, he couldn't explain why he felt this way.

  He rubbed a hand across his chin and felt the stubble that had always plagued him. No matter how often he shaved, Hayden always had a five 'o clock shadow. He raised one bush of an eyebrow, sighed, and shook his head. He then turned to find his clothes hanging on the back of the door and quickly dressed, remembering why he was up. He shut off the light and left to the living room to finish dressing, his progress followed by the snap, crackle, pop of his joints.

  ***

  Hayden plodded slowly towards the Ranger Station, his snow chains thumping and hammering at the fender wells and the pavement. Out the windows of the Suburban he could see the clouds being tossed about by the wind, shapeless forms that seemed foreign and surreal against the backdrop. The sky had been crystal clear when he had gone to bed, now he could see the storm moving in. In the distance was darkness.

  A void without light or stars or even the mountains that he knew were there. It was simply a dark nothing with no depth or edges. It was a wall that was moving towards him, enveloping everything in its path, and devoured the land with its progress. This was the first time Hayden had seen a storm front with form. This truly was a front, a visible wall that stretched across the heavens to the north. It looked unnatural and somewhere deep inside him a primitive voice said, "Be afraid."

  Hayden pulled into the driveway of the station and his headlights flashed across the back of a dark colored Subaru, black, he thought. It had New Mexico tags and he assumed that it belonged to one of the two Johnny had mentioned. He drove up to it and parked beside it, the Ranger vehicles were no where in sight. Probably in the garage so that they could start them in the morning, he thought. Hayden left his vehicle running and honked the horn twice.

  Three forms, dark against the light from within, emerged from the building which served as office and part-time home to the Forest Rangers. The first two were fairly tall, the third considerably shorter by nearly a foot. They were bundled and they walked quickly with their heads down. It made Hayden think of mourners that were late for a funeral. A
bad comparison he decided. The two taller figures crossed his headlights and started for the passenger door while the shorter made his way to Hayden's window. He knew that this was Johnny from his size and the limp.

  Hayden rolled down his window and motioned for the other two to climb on in. All he could make out of Johnny beneath the fur lined parka was his large brown eyes and the scar that partially closed the right one. "Howdy John!" he yelled above the wind, the cold air causing his throat to ache as he sucked it in.

  "Hayden," Johnny shouted, "This is Nick and Mike, the guys I told you about," motioning to them with a tip of his head. "I figured it would be easier if they showed you the Jeep. I gotta stay here, but I'll see you when you get back."

  "Don't wait up for us John. I can talk to you tomorrow in town. Your shift's ending then, isn't it?"

  "Yeah, I go back in the morning."

  "I'll see that these two get home. Good night John."

  "G'night Hayden, I'll look for you tomorrow." Johnny didn't wait for a reply; he turned and quickly ran a hobble skip run to the door.

  Hayden understood, this cold was hell and probably didn't do much for Johnny's leg either. He rolled his window back up and turned to regard the two young men who had climbed into the front seat with him. They were taking off neoprene ski masks that attached in the back with Velcro, but left their toboggans on. When Johnny had said kids, he was expecting eighteen or so, but these guys were in their mid to late twenties. Hayden's surprise was visible.

  "Which one of you belongs to that WRX?" he finally said.

  "That's mine. I'm Nick Boscoe and this. . ."

  "Must be Mike Gallegos," Hayden finished. He looked deep into Nick's eyes, then Mike's. He bored into them with his eyes, hoping to dredge up their conviction, their truth. After a moment's hesitation, an awkward moment of silence, he was convinced of their sincerity. "I'm Sheriff Hayden Smith," he continued, "Johnny tells me that you're staying out at Bud's place." He turned to face the windshield and began to back out, guided by the rear view mirror. Never looking back, he fully expected them to tell their story to him as he drove.