The Winter People

by Bret Tallent

  "Sounds like a place to start Nick, let's head up front.", Mike turned and started walking through the big double doors that led down the long hallway to the front area.

  Sarah followed Mike, and Nick brought up the rear. He paused only briefly to make sure that the flare gun was loaded as he pushed through the doors. In the garage, the big bay doors thumped with a gust and Nick jumped, but didn't look back. Instead, he hurried up to walk beside Sarah. She was as appreciative of the company as he was, although neither one spoke. Just knowing that the other was there, felt safe somehow, and that feeling had been in short supply lately.

  The front office was as they had left it this morning. It was still and empty and silent. It was an eerie feeling, like going back to your old high school and walking down its empty halls, Mike thought. But, as they began searching for weapons, another feeling came to him. It was like being in the house and going through the belongings of someone who had died. He trembled at that thought, but forgot all about it when he heard the distant sound of glass breaking somewhere upstairs.

  ***

  Johnny strained against the rope that bound him to his snowmobile. He stretched as far as he could, sprawled out on top of the ice, and finally got a hand on Hayden’s back. Johnny called out to him but Hayden remained a lifeless form, a limp rag in Johnny’s clutch. The big man’s weight caused the rope to dig into Johnny’s middle, and beneath his snow suit there was blood.

  Johnny turned Hayden and hooked a hand under each arm. He pulled with all of his might. The pain around his middle was nearly unbearable and his kidneys ached from the pressure. The rope burned into Johnny’s sides and left its prints on his skin, even through the layers of clothing he was wearing. But it was just the leverage he needed to pull Hayden up onto the ice.

  The motionless lump that was Hayden Smith lay flatly on its back next to the gaping hole in the ice. His legs hung limply over the side and dangled in the frigid slushy water of Macy pond. Beside him, the exhausted Indian fought to catch his breath, perched on all fours. Johnny stared down at Hayden, his skin was ashen and his lips a pale blue. But there was the unmistakable fog of life as Hayden exhaled.

  Johnny breathed easier, but only for a moment. Already, Hayden’s parka was beginning to freeze. It crinkled and crunched as Johnny sat him up and locked his arms around Hayden’s chest from behind. Johnny dragged Hayden to his snowmobile, a sharp pain shooting down his bum leg with every step. Twice he had nearly tumbled over backwards when the rope caught under his feet.

  The Indian was near to his physical limits by the time he reached the litter where Roscoe’s whimpers seeped out from beneath the blankets and skins. But time was short and Johnny couldn’t afford the luxury of rest. He had to get Hayden warm, and quick. Roscoe needed attention as well, and all of them were at the mercy of the elements. But it was the Ha’a’jo Den’e that were foremost in Johnny’s mind, for they were coming.

  Johnny could taste the air growing sour around them. With every step that brought the Ha’a’jo Den’e, the Winter People, closer, the air became more rancid. The wind picked up its intensity as well, petulantly slapping them in intermittent gusts of angry yelps. Johnny knew that they would be swarming over this place in a matter of minutes, just as they were even now swarming over the streets of Copper Creek. He trembled momentarily then set to work.

  Johnny hoisted Hayden onto the litter and beneath the blankets Roscoe whined with the motion. Johnny ignored his dog and worked at the zipper of Hayden’s parka to no avail. It was frozen up. He then pulled his knife from its sheath and slit the garment open easily, and proceeded to cut through the soaked clothing beneath until Hayden’s wet long johns were all that separated him from the atmosphere.

  Next, Johnny tried to remove Hayden’s boots but they were blocks of ice on his feet. The heavy leather was rock hard and Johnny didn’t want to take the time to saw through it. So he jerked the pant legs of the snowsuit up out of the boots and slit them up the side, exposing the cotton underwear beneath. He tossed the useless rags aside and lifted the skins and blankets from around Roscoe.

  The dog looked up dolefully and attempted a half-hearted lick at Johnny’s face, then let his head drop back down. Johnny stuffed Hayden up around the dog in a semi-fetal position, his stomach against the dog’s back. He then covered them both in the skins and blankets, and bound them to the litter with the rope from his waist. Roscoe whimpered a few more times then became as silent as Hayden.

  Johnny climbed onto the snowmobile, wincing from the sting of his clothes rubbing against the rope burns on his sides. He fired up the machine and eased it off the pond then headed for town. Behind him the dead town spoke out. The further he got from it, the clearer its message to him became. It called out to him. It implored him. It begged and pleaded.

  “We are here Johnny.” It said. “Come back to us…help us.” It murmured. Johnny tried to ignore it but it wouldn’t let him. “Only you Johnny, you’re the one. We need you Johnny; we need you to end it for us.” It pleaded.

  “No!” Johnny thought, “Leave me alone!”

  “It’s so cold Johnny. You can’t believe how cold it is. Please Johnny.”

  “No.”

  “Johnny?” and then it was silent.

  Johnny swallowed hard but did not look back. He was suddenly very cold, and very afraid. It did not seem as the voices of the Winter People at all. It was familiar somehow and that was what scared him. The town spoke out with the voices of many, voices he knew. Souls. But Johnny refused to use his eyes and see. He refused to look into the town, look into his own heart. There would be horror there, horror and pain. There would be things he would never forget. Things he could do nothing to help.

  He cursed his gift then. He cursed it for what it had done to him, for what it had made him. He cursed it for the things it made him see, made him deal with. It was unfair, he pouted to himself, and it was cruel. To open your mind up to things that you would otherwise be blissfully ignorant about, then leave you unable to change any of it. It was no gift at all, he decided.

  There was something in Donner, something there for him. It wanted him. It needed him. It called out to him. But it was also their place now, he realized that too. That was why he hadn’t been able to see anything before. Why he hadn’t felt anything. Only now were they allowing it to draw him back, he was sure. But he was sure of something else too, he would be back this way again.

  ***

  Although the snow had lessened, visibility was still poor. Tom had been struggling since he lost sight of the cabin and had almost given himself up as hopelessly lost several times, but had pushed on anyway. His snow blindness, compounded by the day, had made everything look like a great white soup. So it was with alarm and relief when he very nearly rode the Ski-Doo off the steep bank into the icy waters of Copper Creek.

  The creek was frozen over, but Tom still didn’t think it would take his weight being thrown onto it from ten or fifteen feet. Fortunately, he had managed to lean and pull the machine to the right just in time. In fact, a few inches of his track actually sat out in space.

  Tom sighed heavily letting his racing heart calm down just a bit. He swallowed once and shook his head in disbelief. After the moment of panic subsided, he eased the Ski-Doo forward and continued on along the creek bank. He would be able to follow it on in to town, he thought. And surely there would be a place to cross somewhere.

  So Tom headed upstream following the meanderings of the frozen creek. After a short while he came to a gentle slope that led down to the creek on either side. He’d found a crossing. Whether it was natural or man made he couldn’t say, but it was a crossing. The contour of the land drew him down to it easily and soon he found himself at the creek’s edge.

  The path seemed to be several feet above the creek and Tom decided that this was a bridge. Slowly, cautiously, he eased out onto the path. His trip across was uneventful and Tom shrugged. He climbed up the other side and at the top of the little knoll was a small clu
ster of buildings surrounded by a tall fence topped with barbed wire. A small sign on the fence read, “Sewage Treatment Plant”.

  Tom looked back down towards the creek. He couldn’t see the outlet pipe but he knew it dumped in there somewhere. For a moment he wrinkled his nose in distaste at man. It was a brief objection though; there was something more significant about this than self-righteous indignation.

  He was on the far outskirts of town. He had made it. Then he corrected himself. He wasn’t there yet. The sheriff’s office was on the far side of town and he had a long way to go. Probably the greatest distance of all, the last few yards before the touchdown. Tom swallowed and headed up along the creek and around the outskirts of town. Somehow, it seemed the wiser thing to do.

  ***

  Huddled together in an almost comical manner, Mike, Sarah, and Nick inched their way up the great staircase. Hayden had told them that this had been a hotel once and it didn’t seem like they had gone to any great lengths to remodel it. In fact, the only place that seemed out of place now was the converted Sheriff’s office. When they had stepped through the door that led to the rest of the building, each of them had taken a double take. It was like stepping into another time.

  They had stepped into the marbled lobby from what had probably been the kitchen or dining room. It was a large open entry way that allowed you to see the three floors above. A huge polished wooden staircase funneled into one corner and led to the walkway that circled the next floor. Two more staircases led up to the next floor, and the next, each at opposite ends of the great expanse of the opened entry way.

  Beside the dark curved shapes of the main stair stood an elevator, it too was from another time. Open on all sides, its walls were made of molded wrought iron, twisted in decorative curls and loops. It had a brass dial above it that indicated the floors, and a hand like that of a clock that pointed to the two, which was where it sat.

  But most noticeable about “The Big Empty”, as Mike had called it, was the quiet it offered from the storm outside. There was only the slightest hint of the wind, and even that was quickly lost with the softest of sounds. So it was with amazing clarity that they could hear the soft scuffle of something moving on the floor above them.

  As they climbed the stairs they moved as one, so close were they huddled together. Mike’s knuckles were white from squeezing the flare gun so tightly, and his hand quivered. His mouth had gone dry and he tried to swallow, but couldn’t. Every now and then a step would creak and it would be deafening roar in the Big Empty, and Mike would go rigid. Behind him, he was sure the others were the same, but he was so focused on what lie ahead he was only barely aware of them.

  There came some more shuffling, and then the creak of a floorboard. Mike very nearly peed his pants. He regained control with a heavy sigh and crept forward. At the top of the stairs he paused and listened. Nick and Sarah came up beside him and startled him. He’d nearly forgotten that they were there. He put a finger to his lips and Nick and Sarah nodded. Each of them cocked their heads in a different direction, straining to hear.

  They didn’t have to wait long. There was another creak of a floorboard three doors down the walkway. As quietly as they could, the three worked their way towards the door, and what ever lie beyond. Nick pushed Sarah to the side and crouched low in front of the door, his flare gun held before him. The scene was almost laughable to Nick, like some old NCIS episode. He almost smiled at that thought, almost.

  Mike stood above and slightly off to one side. He gently twisted the knob until the bolt came free with a tiny click. He looked down at Nick and they gave each other a nod, then Mike threw the door open. In the split second as the door opened, there was a sharp thud as a short arrow sank into the door frame beside Mike’s head.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Oh God! I-I-I’m sorry,” Gary rattled out, surprised. “I thought you were one of those things.” his words trembling nearly as much as he was.

  Mike looked over at the arrow (bolt, Gary later corrected) embedded in the door frame and let out a disbelieving laugh. A toothy grin filled his face and he turned back to the kid standing before him. “Lucky for you I wasn’t. That was a pretty sorry shot,” he teased. Gary only nodded, embarrassed.

  There was an awkward moment of silence; the situation seemed too alien for anything else. Finally, Sarah pushed past Nick and Mike and into the room. “My name’s Sarah,” she said. “And that’s Mike and Nick,” motioning to each with her head.

  Gary swallowed, exhaled, and then replied. “Gary, Gary Radner. My mom and I...” His words trailed off and he hung his head down, swallowed again, and continued. “We live here in town. She-she worked at the Diner, but...I should’ve helped her. I was there. She needed me, but I didn’t do anything.” Gary’s eyes were far away, his expression blank. He barely noticed that Sarah had come up beside him. Nick and Mike only glanced at each other then fixed their eyes on the floor beneath them.

  Gary continued, “I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t move.” Tears began to fill his eyes, “It tore her apart, and I just watched it! I just w-watched.” Finally the tears fell and Sarah put her arm around him.

  As Sarah held Gary and Gary sobbed, Nick motioned to Mike and they left the room to investigate the rest of the floor. Office after office, it was dark and empty. They finally ended up back where they had started and found Gary and Sarah perched on the end of a large oak desk. Gary’s eyes were puffy and pink and Sarah still had an arm around him. Gary saw Nick and Mike and turned his head to wipe his eyes. He sniffed once and then turned back around. For a moment, things were better.

  “Well Gary Gary Radner,” Nick said, “How’d you get in here?”

  Gary smiled briefly, but Nick didn’t notice it. “Through a window in that side office” he said, motioning to a door on the right side of the room. “I climbed a drift to the fire escape and just broke in. It wasn’t too hard.”

  “What did you almost shoot with me with?” Mike asked.

  Gary recounted his morning, and the scene at the Diner, leaving out the part about his mother. He told them about the creatures and the things he had noticed about them. He quickly breezed through the part about his journey there, much of it a blur to him anyway. He finally finished by showing them the crossbow he had made.

  Nick offered up their story in the abridged version and Gary listened intently. Occasionally he would cast a sidelong glance at Sarah, but looked away as soon as she would turn to look at him. Through all that had happened, his hormones were still in good working condition, oblivious to it all. Gary smiled inwardly. He didn’t feel nearly as alone as he had for what seemed like a long, long time.

  They decided to separate into two parties and search the rest of the building. Gary hastily volunteered to go with Sarah. Mike and Nick had to suppress a chuckle. They cast each other a smile and left Gary with Sarah. Nick and Mike headed up stairs and Sarah and Gary headed down.

  ***

  Sarah had seen that look before and she had to smile. As Gary accompanied her from room to room her eyes would catch his just before he looked away. He had taken it upon himself to protect her and led the way into each uncharted area, crossbow boldly held before him. It was the testosterone dance and Sarah knew it all too well. He was harmless she was sure, and at least it kept his mind off his mother.

  They finished their survey and ended up back in the radio area of the police station. Since Gary’s entrance had cut short their search of the office earlier, she decided to pass the time until Nick and Mike returned by continuing it now. There was a gun cabinet with several guns in it on the far wall across from the massive oak desk, but it was locked. She and Gary searched through the drawers of each desk and then the two filing cabinets but came across nothing that could help; no flares, and no keys. Sarah finally looked around the offices, dismayed.

  That’s when she noticed the computer. She’d seen it before, she was sure of it. It just must not have registered. She went to the desk to turn it on and Gar
y spoke up.

  “Don’t bother,” he said morosely, “I already thought of that.”

  “Thought of what?” She wondered.

  “Sending out an email for help.” He replied.

  “Why didn’t you say something? Why don’t bother?” Sarah prodded.

  “The phones are down, and we don’t have cable.” He said flatly. “No internet.”

  Sarah mouthed a silent “Oh” and slid down into a big padded chair in front of the monitor, glum. Every room was void of life, dark and unfeeling. The windows were covered with packed snow, driven into high drifts by the wind. Outside doors as well were blocked and Sarah’s feelings about it were mixed. They were well barricaded from anything entering from the outside, but they were also barred from leaving. She sat in the big padded chair, thinking. Gary sat nearby, involved in his own thoughts. It was in that moment of quiet contemplation that Sarah thought she heard something.

  ***

  Room after empty room Nick and Mike made their search in silence. In the last office they finally relaxed. Nick leaned back on a tall filing cabinet and crossed his arms while Mike plopped down in a green winged back chair near the door.

  At last Nick spoke, “What do you think of that Gary kid?”

  Mike shrugged and half smiled. “He reminds me a lot of me.”

  Nick smiled. “Yeah, me too.” Then his smile faded, “What are we gonna do Mike? This place isn’t very defensible.”

  “I don’t know. If Gary could just walk right in here...then, I don’t know.” Mike replied.

  “I guess we could try to...” Nick trailed off in mid sentence. Something had caught his eye outside in the murk beyond the window to his left. “There was something moving in the trees. It seemed to be a single light, a snowmobile?” he finished.

  “Are you sure?!” Mike jumped out of his chair and moved quickly to the window beside Nick.