Winter's Shadow

by M. J. Hearle

  ‘Thanks again for inviting me out tonight,’ Blake said, as they drew near his truck.

  ‘You don’t need to thank me. I hope next time isn’t so . . . eventful.’ She glanced up at the stars. ‘I keep expecting a plane engine or a meteor to fall on me at any moment.’

  Blake followed her gaze and smiled. ‘Looks all clear to me.’

  Their eyes met and Winter felt her spirits soar. It was written plainly for her to see in his affectionate half-smile, the slightly raised eyebrows and shining gaze – Blake liked her. She wasn’t imagining it. Somehow the impossible had happened: this beautiful, strange young man had developed feelings for her.

  She doubted there would be a more opportune moment to ask for his number. Her heart quickening, Winter opened her mouth, the question nervously dancing on the tip of her tongue when she saw his aspect sour. Something over her shoulder had caught his attention.

  ‘What the —?’

  He pushed past her to his truck and bent to examine something. Winter saw that the tyre on the right wheel was flat. Blake stood and quickly walked around the truck inspecting the other tyres, frowning as he discovered they were all flat too.

  Winter bent down to examine the closest wheel and saw there was a long incision in the black rubber. Somebody had slashed Blake’s tyres!

  She poked her finger into the slit. ‘Why would somebody do this?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said grimly. ‘Do you have the number of a mechanic or a garage?’

  Winter shook her head. ‘Sorry – um . . . I could call my sister?’

  Blake rubbed the stubble of his chin pensively. ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll get a taxi.’ Winter noticed that he kept looking over at the street beyond the parking lot as if expecting to see someone. The parking lot was almost empty now. Most of the crowd had either dispersed or been collected. There were a few stragglers standing in small groups beneath the fluorescents, but apart from these people, Winter and Blake were alone. His agitated behaviour made Winter feel nervous.

  A thought suddenly occurred to her. ‘Perhaps I could give you a ride home?’

  The image of him straddling the scooter behind her, arms wrapped around her waist, was incredibly potent. Winter felt a little short of breath just thinking about it.

  Blake crushed her fantasy. ‘No, that’s fine. I’ll make my own way. Thanks, though. Maybe —’

  He was interrupted by the sound of a car engine as it pulled up nearby. Winter turned and saw a black van idling on the road parallel to the parking lot.

  There was something curious about the windows of the van. They were tinted, obscuring the driver and passengers. Perhaps the van was here to pick up the band. Winter had heard rock stars liked to travel incognito, though she didn’t imagine there would be many groupies waiting to rush the band after tonight’s abbreviated performance.

  ‘Maybe I will get a lift home with you after all,’ Blake said quietly, a strange inflection in his voice.

  Though Winter was pleased by his abrupt change of mind, she was more intrigued by his expression. Blake looked afraid.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  He realised she was studying him and forced a smile, the wattage of which was almost brilliant enough to dispel her concern. Almost . . .

  ‘Of course. Let’s go.’

  ‘Do you know that van?’ she asked, gesturing to the idling vehicle.

  ‘Why would I?’ Blake said dismissively, and took her by the arm, leading her away from the truck. She threw a hasty glance over her shoulder as they crossed to where Jessie was parked, but the van hadn’t moved. If that was what had frightened Blake, the driver didn’t seem very interested in following them.

  ‘I’m sorry I haven’t got a helmet for you,’ Winter said, once they reached her scooter.

  ‘Just don’t crash,’ Blake replied dryly. He was doing a good job at covering his anxiety, but Winter could see it there, evident in the tightness of his mouth.

  ‘I make no guarantee.’

  She straddled the scooter, allowing enough space for Blake, and felt a not-insignificant thrill as he slid onto the seat behind her. He crossed his arms around her midsection; his chest pressed into the back of her, and Winter could feel his heartbeat pounding beneath his shirt. She keyed the ignition. Over the low hum of the engine, she heard Blake say, ‘How fast does this thing go again?’

  ‘We should be at your house by next Tuesday at the very latest.’

  Winter revved the accelerator and the two of them took off into the night.

  Chapter 34

  The most direct route to Holloway Road lay through the centre of town; however, Winter knew that they would probably get there faster if they took the coastal path along the bluffs. For the past month, the town council had scheduled nightly road crews to tidy up the potholes plaguing Main Street, which meant there would be dozens of workers clogging up the street right now. If they were lucky, she and Blake might only be impeded ten minutes or so, but there was always a chance they could be delayed longer. Winter decided not to risk it, especially as haste seemed to be an issue for Blake.

  Why was he in such a hurry, anyway? What had frightened him back at the parking lot? Despite his dismissal, Winter was quite sure it had something to do with the arrival of the ominous black van. Who drove around with tinted windows? The people inside must have been up to no good if they wanted their identity to remain secret. Then there was the troubling fact of Blake’s tyres being slashed while they were inside the surf club. She checked her side mirror and was comforted that there was nobody following them.

  Probably some slack-jawed yokel had seen Blake’s truck and decided to cause a little mischief. Similar unprovoked incidents of reckless destruction happened all the time in town. There were too many young people and not enough things to do. All those churning hormones had to have an outlet somewhere, and too often it was through violence or vandalism. There was no reason to think Blake was running from anything. It was just her paranoia playing tricks on her again.

  They rode down Maple Boulevard, past Fletch’s and Howl’s Music Jamboree, before turning into Horton Street and heading towards the fishing jetty. The lack of streetlights in this section of town didn’t hinder Winter’s sight – she had the soft blue moonlight. Not quite threequarters full, the moon hung low in the sky, guiding her towards the coastline like a beacon.

  Apart from the low hum of Jessie’s engine, the streets seemed eerily quiet, as if the town had opened itself up for her and Blake alone. They didn’t pass another car or pedestrian as they rode past the jetty, didn’t see any other lights cutting through the shadows ahead.

  The night was theirs.

  Blake’s arms felt strong around her middle, making Winter aware of just how soft her middle must feel in comparison. She clenched her stomach muscles, making a silent promise to herself that starting from tomorrow she’d begin taking better care of herself. She would start going to the gym in the afternoon with Jasmine.

  Jasmine had been addicted to Pilates for the past three years, but had given up trying to convince Winter that it was anything more than a painful way to spend a couple of hours – hours which Winter knew could be devoted to something more useful. Like watching TV. The idea of trying to compete with Jasmine and her toned, gymgoing sisterhood was deeply unappealing, but it wouldn’t kill her to try.

  Winter barely knew Blake, yet here she was, already contemplating massive life changes for his benefit – and the prospect of any kind of regular exercise for Winter was a massive life change. She needed to slow down and keep herself from getting carried away. One step at a time. It would be sensible to wait until she at least had Blake’s phone number before starting to plan their honeymoon. A few loaded glances were wonderful and all but they didn’t exactly add up to a relationship.

  Despite Jessie’s engine protesting the steep incline, they crested the hill and turned onto Pacific Drive, leaving the greater town area behind them. Thick scrub rose up on their left-hand side, ob
scuring the view of the ocean. It ran for a short stretch before thinning as they weaved closer to the bluff. Soon the ocean opened up beside them in the darkness, the roar of the waves just audible beneath the sound of the scooter, the occasional spray of sea mist cooling their cheeks. The reflection of the moon skittered across the shifting water’s surface, chasing them as they rode along the cliff’s edge, turning the water silver in its wake. It was beautiful.

  ‘Can you make this go any faster?’ Blake’s voice shouted over the hum of the engine, startling Winter out of her reverie.

  She was sufficiently curious by the urgency of his tone to check her side mirror again. This time the reflection wasn’t empty – a car’s headlights were looming. Her second quick glance revealed it wasn’t a car at all, but the same van with the tinted windows she’d seen parked outside the surf club. Her instincts had been right. Blake had been frightened by the van and with good cause, it appeared, by the way it was aggressively bearing down on them. The vehicle had no numberplate, and this made the threat it posed seem all the more real.

  Winter applied the accelerator and managed to pull away from the van. The icy coastal wind buffeted her face, making her eyes water. She checked her side mirror again and was alarmed to see the van speeding to close the gap between them.

  ‘Who are they?’ she cried out above the rushing wind.

  ‘Just drive, Winter!’ Blake yelled back.

  Trying to ignore her fear and confusion, Winter focused all her attention on the road ahead. Somehow she’d been pulled into the middle of a very dangerous situation – a situation all the more terrifying because of its ambiguity. If they got out of this safely, Blake would have some serious explaining to do.

  If only there was a turn-off or a service station or somewhere to stop and call the police, but there was just the bluff’s edge to the left and thick, thorny scrubland on the right. Pacific Drive was the only road winding its way through this section of the coastal nature reserve, and wouldn’t join up with civilisation again for another mile or two.

  Winter urged Jessie faster, desperately watching the darkness ahead for signs of another car. The road disappeared into a shadow that even the moon’s glow couldn’t penetrate. No lights shone there, no sign of help. Winter suddenly thought of her parents and realised with horror that she was nearing the spot where her father lost control of the car and disappeared over the bluff. It would be a cruel case of synchronicity if she and Blake were condemned to the same fate.

  Winter’s heart jumped as the van’s engine roared louder in her ears. Their shadow was thrown across the gravel by the malevolent glare of the van’s headlights – it was almost on top of them! If they couldn’t pick up any more speed, they were going to —

  ‘Hold on!’ Blake cried out as the van bumped Jessie’s tail light.

  Winter felt the scooter lurch underneath her grip. It was a miracle she didn’t lose control. The next time she wasn’t so lucky. The van nudged her again, knocking Jessie off the road, angling them towards the cliff’s edge. Blue darkness yawned ahead of her, but still Winter gripped the handlebars, hoping she might avert this disaster. But there was simply not enough ground beneath them.

  In a numb state of terror, she was vaguely aware that all the sound seemed to have drained out of the world, except for the rushing wind and Blake’s voice trying to be heard above it (what was he saying?). Jessie’s front wheel ran over the edge of the cliff, and then they were plunging towards the churning ocean below.

  The frenzied waters rushed towards her. She could see rocks breaking the surface like black tombstones, shiny and slick.

  ‘Let go, Winter!’ Blake was screaming in her ear, but Winter was too terror-stricken to register his voice as anything but background noise.

  This was it!

  She was going to die!

  ‘LET GO —’

  This was happening! This was really —

  ‘— OF THE HANDLEBARS!’

  Winter was aware of Blake’s arms pulling her, trying to lift her upwards off the scooter as they plummeted, but her hands were frozen to the handlebars in a death grip. She was conscious of a pain in her chest as her heart buckled beneath the strain of this complete and utter mortal terror.

  Sea spray salted her open mouth; the broiling midnight ocean filled her vision. Blake’s voice in her ear somehow cut through the chaos.

  ‘Let go, Winter,’ he whispered with impossibly calm authority, and Winter finally obeyed. She let go of the handlebars and as Jessie fell away beneath her, she released herself into Blake’s embrace, giving in to oblivion.

  Chapter 35

  Dying was easy.

  There was no pain, no abrupt end as Winter struck the icy waters. There was just a tightness, a sensation of pins and needles prickling her skin, and then the atmosphere seemed to subtly shift around her, becoming denser, thicker, almost like water. The strange thing was that she remained conscious through all this. She’d always imagined death as being the absence of everything – sight, sound, touch – but Winter’s senses remained sharp.

  She smelled death’s perfume as it filled her nostrils and lungs; felt its touch like a warm breeze caressing her face; heard its music in the chiming of distant bells. But could she see?

  Hesitantly, Winter opened her eyes . . . She was flying. Flying through a dark sky, stained green as though, just below the horizon, an emerald sun was about to rise. She wasn’t alone in this place. Blake was flying along beside her in this emerald darkness, his hand clasped around hers, pulling her through this space. The wind ruffled his hair, blowing it back from his smooth brow. His eyes were fixed ahead on some imaginary point in the nothingness, his expression one of supreme concentration.

  Suddenly the wind strengthened, and Winter felt herself being sucked down. The draught broke Blake’s grasp on her and yanked her away. She saw his head snap around towards her, his eyes widening with fear, and then she was falling. Whatever magic had kept her aloft failed once her contact with him was broken. She fell through the darkness – slowly. Gravity seemed to be weak in this place.

  Despite the fact she was falling, Winter wasn’t afraid. She’d already died once and doubted she could die again. The separation from Blake troubled her, but the worry was distant and easily ignored. She was beyond such negative emotions. With every breath of the sweet perfume in the air, Winter felt warm serenity spreading through her body, stealing away any seeds of fear before they could bloom. She allowed herself to tumble down towards what looked like a thick carpet of clouds. There were immense dark shapes beneath the clouds, backlit by a shifting green light. Soon she was falling through the clouds and finally saw what cast off the spectral light below.

  It was a city.

  A ghost city. An unearthly green light flowed over all surfaces like water or fire or smoke. Winter’s eyes widened as she tried to take in its splendour. The architecture of the buildings and edifices was striking, a seeming confluence of different styles from different time periods, at turns familiar and then utterly alien. There were no plain, flat surfaces, no simple geometric shapes – everything looked intricately wrought and textured. It was the scale of these structures that was the most awe-inspiring. The tallest skyscraper she had ever seen would be dwarfed by the towers and columns she saw now. They reached past her, breaking through the clouds into the heavens beyond. It was a city of Babel.

  As she fell closer, drifting between the towers and spires, Winter began to see them. The people of the city. Thousands of them, thronging the streets and squares below.

  Exotic robes billowed in the winds, wide crescent hats hung like vertical moons upon pale brows; many of the denizens held gleaming black rods, which threw off sparks as they struck the ground. Some of the women were wrapped from head to toe like desert Bedouins, the material sparkling as though it were made from the night itself. More people travelled between the towers along expansive bridges . . . no, Winter saw she was mistaken. These individuals weren’t using bridges to navigate
the space between the towers – they were floating! Gliding soundlessly through the air like ghosts . . . or angels.

  And all about them the green witchlight played, leaping from man to woman and building alike. The primary sources of the radiance appeared to be a number of vast, circular wells situated at intersections. Figures gathered around these wells, congregating for some kind of ceremony. It hurt Winter’s eyes to stare down at the emerald light gushing forth, but she couldn’t look away. There were mysteries in the light. If she could only get closer, then she might begin to understand . . .

  Suddenly a shape came hurtling out of the darkness above Winter, collecting her in its strong embrace. It was Blake. Holding her tightly in his arms, he carried her upwards, away from the city and back into the clouds to the sky above. Winter struggled against his embrace, wanting to be let go, wanting – needing – to see what lay at the bottom of the wells. To find out what secrets lay in the light.

  She cried out in frustration, but her voice was lost. There was no sound here, no sound except for the wind rushing by. And the bells chiming in the darkness.

  Let me go! Winter silently pleaded with Blake. Please let me —

  Chapter 36

  ‘— go!’

  The world exploded around Winter, overwhelming her senses with its familiar noise and smells. They were tumbling through the air, locked in a tangled embrace, and then —

  THUMP!

  The air was knocked out of her lungs as they struck the ground and began to roll across the lumpy surface. Blake gallantly tried to absorb most of the impact, until their momentum finally slowed and they came to a rest. Winter was lying flat on her back with Blake sprawled on top of her. She stretched out her hands and could feel cold sand beneath her fingertips. A distant lighthouse’s beam cut a swathe through the night, and she knew at once where they were: Lighthouse Beach near the surf club, which they’d left not half an hour ago. None of this made any sense.