The Winter People

by Bret Tallent

  “Yeah! Right there,” he said, pointing. “Maybe it’s Hayden?”

  “Well, it is headed for the bay doors. We’d better get down stairs, its coming up pretty fast.” Mike turned before he’d finished saying it. His heart was pounding with anticipation and hope. Nick was on his heels as they descended the stairs and bounded for the sheriff’s offices.

  As Mike came flying through the heavy swinging door he very nearly knocked Sarah over backwards. “Oh shit!” they both exclaimed, startled.

  “I heard something!” Sarah exclaimed a little panicked.

  “I know, it’s a snowmobile,” Mike replied. And almost as an acknowledgment, there was a hollow thud, thud, thud, coming from the bay area.

  The four of them wasted no time and moved down the long green corridor to the garage bays. There were three more thuds on the large center by door and they echoed in the emptiness of the garage. Even so, they could all tell that they were not nearly as strong as the first time. There was one last thud that sounded more like something had been thrown against the door than someone had hit it. They reached the garage and faced the door. It was silent. They looked at each other for a tentative moment and listened.

  ***

  With every last bit of his strength depleted, Tom fell hard against the mostly buried garage door. He had knocked a few times but now there was nothing left. His vision was blurred, his body a lead weight, and his hope had abandoned him. Tom was finished. If this was it then let it happen, he could go no further. With that thought, Tom passed out.

  Yet even as the clouds of unconsciousness converged upon him, the door began to rise jerkily. A harsh fluorescent light soon began to bathe him and in a moment, he slid beneath the door in a lifeless lump. Tom Willis dropped the eight or so feet from the top of the drift to the garage floor. The quick reactions of the four people inside were all that saved his head from a nasty crack on the concrete.

  The wailing wind followed the man inside, violently attacking the temperature. Just as the mercury dropped, so did the groups ability to hear above the din. So it was with some alarm that Sarah noticed the dark figure hunkering in the doorway. Almost instantly she realized that it was another man, with a large bundle of some sort on the snow beside him.

  ***

  Johnny had seen the other snowmobile in his mind’s eye, closing on the courthouse. He knew it was Tom Willis just as surely as he knew who was waiting for him in the courthouse. Johnny eased out of the tree line behind the old brick building and followed its walls around the side to the garage bay doors. Tom had just collapsed against the door as Johnny’s machine came to a stop next to his heap. Even as the door struggled to open Johnny was unloading the litter he towed of its precious cargo.

  There was surprise, and even a little fear, on the faces of the others down in the garage bay. Holding onto the motionless form of Tom Willis, they all stood there in a moment of frozen trepidation until Johnny started to lower the large bundle on the snow next to him into the garage. Nick and Mike finally registered the moment and eased the bottom half of Tom to the concrete floor and moved to accept the large bundle from Johnny.

  Johnny didn’t even try to be heard above the pitiless cry of the wind, he just set about lowering Hayden and Roscoe. Nick and Mike took the heavy load from Johnny, sensing its importance, and eased it onto the floor next to Tom. Johnny followed the bundle down, landing harder than he wanted to on his bad leg and felt the sharp pains of protest rocket up into his groin. With the big garage door working its way closed against the force of the intruding snow drift, Johnny finally ripped off his face mask and goggles.

  Nick and Mike recognized him immediately and the slightest ray of hope danced across both of their faces. Johnny only hoped that it wasn’t misplaced. Gary and Sarah still held the upper body of Tom, but all four were silent, looking expectantly at Johnny. Finally, Johnny broke the odd silence.

  “Hi Nick…Mike. I need some help with this.” And he turned toward the bundle lying on the floor next to him. “Let’s get ‘em into the office where it’s warm.” Johnny continued, motioning to both his bundle, and Tom Willis. Without another word Nick and Mike started to drag the heavy bundle down the long green hallway, followed by Sarah and Gary dragging Tom, and Johnny limping up the rear. Beneath the skins and blankets, Nick and Mike heard an occasional whimper and they looked at each other briefly, puzzled. It was a sorry parade, to say the least.

  The warmth of the office hit Johnny like an oven; he hadn’t realized it until just then how cold he’d been. He immediately stripped out of his cold weather gear and knelt beside his precious bundle. The ropes were still fairly frozen so he withdrew his knife and began to cut the bundle open. As he did so, Tom Willis was already coming around and was sitting in the big padded chair that Sarah had occupied only minutes earlier. Sarah was busy making a big pot of coffee, and Nick, Mike, and Gary just stood there dumbly watching Johnny.

  As the ropes and blankets and skins fell away, despair sank into Nick’s and Mike’s hearts. Hayden looked dead. It was only his uncontrolled trembling that let them know he was alive. The dog tried to evoke a pat on the head, or give a lick, but was in obvious pain from the gashes in its side. Gary knelt down next to Roscoe and gave in to his request, comforting the big Pitt Bull. Johnny gave Gary an appreciative glance then started removing Hayden’s soggy long underwear.

  Nick called out to the back office, “Sarah, do you see any clothes or one of his uniforms back there?”

  “Yeah.” She replied.

  “Could you bring those out here?” He continued.

  “Okay.” And then a moment later she suddenly appeared behind Nick with a bundle of clothing. “Coffee’s cooking.” She reported and handed the bundle to Nick. “Who’s that?” She queried Mike as Nick squatted down beside Johnny and they started to dress Hayden.

  “That’s the sheriff.” Mike replied sullenly.

  “I sorta figured that,” she said flatly, “I meant the other guy?”

  “Oh…That’s one of the Rangers from the station. Nick and I talked to him last night.” Mike replied, only slightly embarrassed. “His name is Johnny.”

  “And the dog,” Johnny interjected, “is Roscoe.” And even though he already knew the answers, Johnny forged ahead with the introductions. “Who are you?” He asked.

  “I’m Sarah, Nick’s sister.” She replied.

  He smiled and nodded, and Sarah suddenly felt much safer. There was something in his smile. It was warm, and caring, and strong. Sarah returned his smile and nodded back, then looked down at the dog that Gary was coddling.

  Gary didn’t even glance over to Johnny, but acknowledged him. “Hey Johnny, you remember me?”

  “I sure do Gary…And thanks for Roscoe.” At his name, Roscoe looked back at Johnny and gave Gary a big swipe with his tongue. Gary smiled and tears began to fill his eyes. He bent down and hugged the big dog so the others wouldn’t see. But they had, and no one said a word.

  Johnny continued, “That’s Tom Willis in the big chair.” He motioned toward Tom with head. “He’s a Doctor, so let’s see if we can get him up and around.”

  Tom had regained some of his composure but was still very weak. He had been able to track the conversation and finally piped in “I was a Doctor…In another life.” He said sarcastically.

  “Maybe so,” Johnny replied, “but you’re the best we got. And right now Hayden needs you…And so does Roscoe. You can wallow in your self pity later.”

  ***

  Hayden had suffered from hypothermia but it didn’t appear that he’d gotten any frostbite, as far as Tom could tell. Of course Tom’s vision was still blurry, and his eyes felt as if they had sand in them from the snow blindness. After a couple of cups of Sarah’s coffee, and the three Snickers bars that Gary had produced from a vending machine somewhere in the building, Tom had felt a lot better. So he had set about tending to the two patients that Johnny had brought him.

  Hayden could have been a lot worse, Tom knew
. But Johnny had done the right things and probably saved his life, along with his fingers and toes. After some warming up, Tom figured the big man would be coming around. So he had Mike and Nick find some space heaters to put near him. Then, he turned his attention to the dog.

  He wasn’t a Vet, but he was sure he could patch the dog up. From medical school, he had worked on a few of them and knew they weren’t that different from people. Tom’s biggest problem was his eyesight. He’d needed Sarah to help him examine Hayden, and now he was going to need her to do some suturing. Tom gently palpated the long gashes in Roscoe’s side and found that a few of the ribs were broken as well. There wasn’t much you could do about broken ribs anyway, so it seemed like just a good cleaning and sutures would do it.

  The station’s first-aid kit wasn’t great, but it had a decent supply of bandages and ointments and the like. Sarah had found a sewing kit in the receptionist’s desk drawer, and though it wasn’t ideal, it should do. Sarah scrubbed the wounds with iodine while Gary comforted Roscoe, and Tom supervised. Roscoe only barely flinched each time Sarah put in a stitch with the silk thread and needle she’d found. Tom let Sarah do all the work, and approved of her suturing job. When she was finished, she liberally greased up the wounds with Neosporin and then wrapped it all up with gauze.

  The only pain meds in the kit were Tylenol capsules. Tom seemed to recall that it was okay to give dogs low doses of Tylenol, but you couldn’t give them acetaminophen. So Tom had Gary break a couple open and dust a bite of candy bar with it. Roscoe accepted the treat readily from Gary’s hand and followed it down with half a bowl of water. Tom then checked the capillary refill in Roscoe’s gums and confirmed his suspicions that the dog had lost a lot of blood. The wounds had not hit any vital organs or entered any body cavities, so with some rest the dog should be fine. Tom stood there nodding at both his patient’s prognosis. For the first time in a long time Tom felt like a doctor.

  ***

  Johnny had downed a couple of Tylenol with a cup of Sarah’s coffee and left Hayden and Roscoe to Tom’s care. He was grateful for the snacks that Gary had rounded up and munched them with a vengeance. It had been a long time since he had eaten, and the cold and his work in it earlier today had drained him. He noticed that Nick and Mike barely picked at their food. Finally he suggested that they inventory what they had.

  Nick and Mike had already searched the building but found it empty, save for the typical office supplies. Their best bets were whatever could be found in the Police Station. While Roscoe was being stitched up, they thoroughly inspected all of the station. That concluded, Johnny made a mental note of what they had that could help. There were a couple of flare guns with a total of seventeen flares between them. There were also four kerosene lanterns, some shop tools, acetylene torch, about fifteen gallons of gas, four snowmobiles, two shotguns with twenty some shells, and Gary’s crossbow with a dozen bolts. Not much, he decided.

  Johnny, Nick, and Mike joined the others in the main office. They each grabbed another cup of Sarah’s coffee and found seats around the room. Each of them looked expectantly of Johnny. There was an awkward moment of silence as each pondered the situation. And in that moment Johnny looked at the other seven sitting around the room with him.

  There was strength in numbers he hoped, even these numbers. He considered each of them in turn and slowly shook his head. Of them he could count on only three that would have the strength and conviction for what lay ahead, the boy, the girl, and her friend. Her brother was already locked in combat with them, and was losing. Hayden was nearly dead, and by all rights should be. The doctor had already given up on life a long time ago. And he was a gimpy park ranger with a banged up dog. He only hoped they would be enough, that he would be enough.

  Johnny hated being put in this position, but he simply was the only one who really knew what they were up against. It was his people that first encountered the Winter People. It was his people that told and retold their stories. It was their legends that had become a part of his history, his life. He alone understood what they were and how to fight them. He alone knew the extent of their fury and hatred.

  Johnny also knew that it was he alone that would eventually have to face them. It was his responsibility, to his people, and his grandfather. Johnny knew that he must tell these people everything. He had been given the task to set things right, it was up to him and he would need their help. He would need to tell them the story as it had been passed down. Johnny swallowed hard and broke the awkward silence.

  “It was 1833 and called the winter the stars fell,” he began, “and it was one of the coldest winters in recorded history by our tribe. It was a time of great famine and hardship, whole families dying from disease or starvation. The old and the very young were often cast aside to die. It was a time of shame for the Ute and the spirits abandoned us for our sins. It was at this time that the skies opened up and the stars fell to earth.”

  Johnny paused to collect his thoughts. It was a difficult story to tell. He took a deep breath then continued, “A short time after the stars fell, an evil wind came down to walk among the trees and took a man-like form. It was cold and angry, and committed great savagery against the Ute. There was a great war between the tribe and the wind. It called upon its friends, the night and the clouds, to help it. Together they showed no mercy or compassion. They would haunt them in their dreams and bury them in icy snows. They would attack all that moved; the old, the infirm, the strong, and the very young. They would render grown men as easily as little babies; toss them about like a child’s doll. Then, they would devour the dead. They were known to the Ute as the Ha’a’jo Den’e, the Winter People.”

  Johnny took a sip from his coffee with a trembling hand then resumed his story. “The Chief of our tribe could no longer stand to see his people suffer and called upon his warriors to make a stand. The Chief and his warriors fought bravely as the women and children fled into the lowlands. They had killed a number of the Winter People, but finally were decimated by their large numbers. A few Ute warriors survived, led by my great grandfather, and escaped to join the rest of their tribe. My great grandfather had killed many of them, and wounded several more.”

  After a short pause and another sip, Johnny continued. “But in the end, they were driven from the land. And so began the new history of the Ute. They would live in the high country during the summer, and move into the lowlands during the winter when the snows were deep.” Johnny paused and stared into his coffee cup, gathering his thoughts. No one said a word, even the wind outside seemed silent, waiting for its story to be told. Johnny contemplated for a moment more, and then continued.

  “The Winter People,” he began, “are nomads. They spend their summers far to the north where the earth is still frozen, and travel the mountains to the south in the winter to feed. They whisper in the wind and torment in our dreams. Theirs is a sick desire, bound by misanthropy and perverse pleasures. They delight in how brutal they can be, at how much misery they can inflict. They toy with us as a cat toys with a mouse. We are but playthings for their twisted games. The lucky ones,” Johnny swallowed again, “the lucky ones are allowed to freeze to death and taken back up north as food for the summer months.”

  “Later,” he continued, “in 1847 a group of pioneers led by Richard Donner had become stranded in the deep snows of a high mountain pass. Several months later they were eventually rescued but only a few had survived. Only they know what truly happened, but there were many reports of cannibalism among the group. I believe it was the Winter People that had fed upon them.” Johnny paused and gulped another shot of hot coffee, “there have always been reports of people and settlements just disappearing in the winter. Most of them without a trace. But my people have always known why.”

  Johnny sighed and finished, “Bullets and arrows, clubs, knives, these have little effect on them. Fire is their only true enemy. Their blood burns. Like touching a match to gasoline, touch their blood with fire and they are consumed by
it.” His words hung in the air like so much dust caught in a sunbeam, then finally settled on the occupants of the room and there was no response at all.

  Each of them had seen enough today to believe everything the Indian had said. It made perfect sense. As insane and unreal as it was, it made perfect sense to them all. And that would make Johnny’s job a whole lot easier. He wouldn’t need to convince them of anything…except what they had to do next. Johnny had a plan, but it would require sacrifices of everyone, some more than others. This was not just about survival.

  Finally, Mike broke the silence. “So what do we do?”

  ***

  Nick and Mike were in the main building, removing heavy doors from their hinges. They were large, solid wood doors and Nick only hoped they would be strong enough. It took the two of them to carry one door so it took several trips to get enough for what Johnny had in mind. Part of it, Mike knew, was because of Nick’s condition. He hadn’t been up to speed for some time now and Mike regarded him as they carried the last door into the main office. He was pale, his eyes were tired and drawn, and he seemed far away.

  They sat the last door against the wall beside the front door of the station. The big front window of the station was already covered by two of the doors they had retrieved earlier, screwed into the framing with large lag bolts they had found in the garage. A second pair of doors were placed against those at a forty five degree angle to the wall and the floor, and secured to the floor with 3 inch wood screws. Sarah was helping Johnny to secure half a door over a small window in the next office, while Tom and Gary stood vigil over Hayden and Roscoe.

  No one really spoke. They just went about the tasks at hand. Nick shrugged to Mike and they dragged the heavy door they had just carried in, into position over the front door. Nick held it in place while Mike retrieved some lag bolts and a ratchet. They all continued around the offices securing the doors and windows as best they could. The last door they secured was the door that accessed the rest of the building. Finally, Nick and Mike dragged the heavy wooden receptionist’s desk over in front of that door and ran some wood screws into the floor around its feet.