Shadows in the Sand (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 2)

by Scott Langrel

  Rubbish, he thought. It was nothing other than his own head messing with him. He had walked this path hundreds of times, and had never come across anything more threatening than a squirrel. Everything looked different in the snow, that was all.

  Elmer shook his head and continued on. He hadn’t thought to put his galoshes on before leaving home, and he’s shoes were getting wet. It didn’t matter if he strayed from the path a bit; if he kept heading in the same direction, he was bound to come out on Main Street eventually.

  At least he could see where he was going. Though darkness had fallen, the snow gathered and reflected what little light there was, allowing Elmer to make his way without walking headfirst into a tree. Not that he was moving fast enough to do much damage. He realized he would have to pick up his pace if he didn’t want to be wading through a foot of snow on the return trip.

  Maybe it was best that he hadn’t brought the car. The roads would be slippery by now. The county boys had a tendency to drag their asses when it came to plowing the roads anymore, and there would probably be a handful of wrecks before the night was over. Bob Lyle had always kept the road crews on their toes when he’d been the sheriff, but now Lyle was gone and that Talbot boy was in charge. He seemed like a nice enough kid, but he just didn’t command the respect that Lyle had.

  Lyle had been a good man—hard, but fair. He’d let Elmer go on more than one occasion when Elmer had been behind the wheel and soused to the gills. Since Elmer was apt to drive no more than twenty miles-per-hour when tipsy, he wasn’t likely to kill anyone, but a lot of cops would have hauled him in just the same. Elmer hadn’t had the nerve to try John Talbot, though. He had the feeling that the young sheriff wouldn’t be so lenient.

  Elmer figured he should be getting close to town by now, though he could not see any lights and could hear none of the usual traffic. But he had been walking for at least ten minutes, hadn’t he? Was it possible that he had become so disoriented due to the snow that he’d gotten turned completely around? That was as good an explanation as any, because he should have come out of the woods by now.

  He was left with two options. He could either pick a direction and keep walking, with the full knowledge that he had to come out somewhere, or he could follow his own footprints back to the house. Going back home seemed to be the most logical choice because his feet were really starting to get cold, but he was loath to face Lola with no alcohol in his system. And what if the snow didn’t stop anytime soon? He could be stuck at home for days without so much as a beer.

  No, that was simply unacceptable. He would make it to the liquor store, the weather be damned. Once he got a sip or two of rotgut in his system, he wouldn’t be so cold anymore. And it would make putting up with Lola a damned sight easier.

  Elmer turned to his left and began to trudge through the snow. Here and there, the wind caught the freshly-fallen powder and whipped it into dancing snow-devils, which spun crazily on the forest floor and then zipped out of sight. Thankfully, there was little underbrush this time of year, and the trees were spaced far enough apart so that Elmer could walk without having to constantly dodge them. That was a good thing, because he was beginning to breathe hard in the cold night air.

  He paused and leaned against a scraggly pine to knock off some of the snow which was caking his shoes. The leather boots were insulated, but not waterproof. Already, he could feel that his socks were becoming damp, and soon they would be soaking wet.

  Perhaps he would be able to bum a ride back to his house after acquiring his booze. On a night such as this, surely no one would be hard-hearted enough to refuse him a ride at least part of the way. The people of Shallow Springs were generally a good lot, though Elmer had to concede that there seemed to be more assholes in the group than there used to be.

  Elmer finished kicking the excess snow from his boots and started to continue on his way. He took two steps and stopped, surprised to see that he was not alone in the woods. Twenty or thirty yards ahead of him, a woman stood watching him through the blowing snow. Though his visibility was limited due to the darkness and the weather, he could make out her form clearly against the white background. She appeared to be wearing something that looked like a sheet, which was draped across her narrow shoulders and tied at the waist with some kind of belt. Her hair was long and black, and blew off to the side as it was caught in the gusting wind.

  “Hello?” Elmer called, unsure of whether or not he should trust his eyes. He didn’t recognize the woman, though her wildly-flying hair partially hid her face and made it impossible to tell her identity.

  The woman neither replied nor moved. Elmer stood his ground, unwilling to move any closer. Something about the whole situation just didn’t feel right. The woman was not dressed for the freezing weather, yet she didn’t appear to be in distress. In sharp contrast, Elmer was literally shivering from the cold. He’d known some cold-natured people in his time, but there was no way this slim waif of a woman could be traipsing through the forest, wearing nothing but a thin robe, and not be freezing.

  A thought occurred to him. Maybe he had inadvertently wandered near a house. It was certainly possible, because many of the homes which lined the street bordered the wooded area at the rear of the properties. Perhaps the woman had seen him through a window and had come out to see if he needed help. It was the only scenario that made any sense.

  “Ma’am?” he yelled over the wind. “Do you live around here? Is your house nearby?”

  Instead of answering, the woman waved her hand as if motioning for Elmer to come closer. Maybe she hadn’t heard him over the blowing wind. Elmer, now more aggravated than cautious, sighed and started toward her. He couldn’t afford to dally too long. It was getting late, and the liquor store would be closing soon, snow or not.

  “I asked if your house is around here,” Elmer shouted as he walked. “You’re not lost, are you?”

  The woman said nothing but continued to wave him closer. He was near enough now to see that she was smiling, and that she appeared to be of Asian descent. Funny. Elmer didn’t know of any Asians living in the Springs.

  “I don’t think we’ve met,” Elmer huffed as he drew close. “I’m Elmer Jenkins. Live over on Valley. I was asking if you live—″

  Elmer stopped short as he looked at the woman’s face. She looked to be in her mid to late twenties, and she was a looker. But that wasn’t what drew Elmer’s attention. Her skin was pale—almost white. And her lips were blue, the color of the sky on a cloudless winter day. She must have been walking in the snow for hours to look like that.

  “Gosh, Miss!” Elmer stammered, his urgency to make the liquor store before closing time all but forgotten. “Are you okay? I think we need to get you inside. Is your house nearby?”

  The woman remained mute. She gave Elmer a sad smile and pursed her blue lips, as if silently asking for a kiss.

  “Ma’am, I really think you need to get—″

  The woman suddenly leaned forward and blew in Elmer’s face.

  The pain was so intense that, for a moment, Elmer thought he’d been burned. The skin on his face felt as if it were on fire. He tried to open his mouth to scream, but his jaw wouldn’t move. All that escaped him was a pathetic whimper. He sucked in air violently, and the pain in his lungs was instantaneous. That’s when he realized he was not on fire, after all.

  He was freezing.

  Elmer started to turn, but the freezing sensation had already spread down his body and into his legs, locking his joints. He could feel the cold burrowing its way further into his body. In his last moments of coherent thought, Elmer imagined he could feel his blood freezing within his veins. He looked into the woman’s face and saw only sadness there.

  Then his eyes glazed over, and he saw no more.

  When they found him the next morning, Elmer Jenkins was frozen as solid as the frigid landscape which surrounded him.

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  angrel, Shadows in the Sand (A Finn McCoy Paranormal Thriller Book 2)