Bitter Cold

by J. Joseph Wright

  “Hurry! Get him in here! Hurry!” April had the sliding glass door open in the kitchen. She stood aside to let the guys stumble in. She slammed the door shut, locked it, then closed the blinds, as though that would stop a bullet.

  Breathless, Jeff toppled to the floor. Logan twisted away at the last moment.

  “Those bastards!” April seemed too angry to be out of breath. “They know! They know that goddam abomination is their fault, and they’ll kill anyone to cover it up. Trying to murder me was one thing. But children? Children!”

  “April!” Jeff tried reaching through her searing fury. No luck.

  “Those fucking bastards! They’re gonna kill us! They’re gonna kill us all!”

  “APRIL!”

  She stopped and blinked at him.

  “Get down!” he demanded. “They can shoot through walls, get down!”

  Everyone hit the floor, falling on their stomachs. Jeff crawled to the couch where Amy and his son were laying close together.

  “What’re we gonna do, Dad?” Logan searched his eyes. “If they can shoot through the walls, what’re we gonna do?”

  Jeff didn’t need to think about it. “Everybody in the basement!”

  They hurried on hands and knees, following him across the kitchen floor, into the hallway, and then down the cellar stairs.

  “Call the police!” April screamed.

  Jeff scrambled to the wall-mounted unit, a modern replica made to resemble an antique. He picked up the receiver and held it against his ear. Nothing.

  “It’s dead,” he let it dangle by the cord.

  “I thought so,” she shook her head. “What about the cell phones?”

  Jeff frowned. “They don’t work so well out here. Come and go, really. There’s a spot up there on the road, by the little bridge, where you can get a weak signal if you stand in the right place. It’s hit or miss otherwise.”

  She slammed the floor with her palm. “What the hell is it with small towns and cell phones? You’d think we’re back in the stone ages.”

  She stopped to listen, eyes pointed up. Jeff heard it, too. Rumbling in the sky. Faint at first, then it sounded like the helicopter flew right over the house. In silence, they stayed flat on the floor. After several minutes of listening to nothing but their own heavy breathing, April broke the hush.

  “What’re they doing? They’re not shooting. They’re just waiting.”

  “This is torture,” Amy sat up against the sofa, rocking back and forth. “It’s worse than actually being shot at. The waiting, knowing they’re gonna try and kill us at any moment.”

  “Calm down, everybody,” Jeff conjured up his best pep talk voice. “They’re not gonna kill us. They won’t be able to touch us down here.”

  “And how long are we supposed to stay down here? Huh?” Amy questioned him.

  “I don’t know,” he sighed.

  “What about when they figure out they can’t shoot us from the helicopter, and then land and come down here and get us, huh? What then?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered again, annoyed by her badgering.

  “And what about that thing in the snow? What if it comes back? It can tear down walls and bust through roofs. What if it figures out we’re down here?”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Well I know! That thing’s gonna eat us! I don’t wanna die! I don’t wanna DIE!”

  Amy collapsed in a heap, sobbing out of control.

  Logan slid up and put his arm around her. She leaned into him, weeping into his chest. “We found something else out there,” he patted the back of her head and ran his hand down her hair over and over. “Something horrible.”

  “What was it? What did you—” Jeff stopped. It was easy to see both kids were traumatized. Logan’s hands shook, his voice was unsteady. And Amy was a wreck. Still, Jeff needed to know, so he asked his son what had happened, and told him to not leave out any detail, no matter how horrific. He needed to know what they were up against.

  When Logan finished telling him about the shocking events at the Mitchells’, Jeff stood, taking April’s hand from his shoulder and holding it in his.

  “Logan and Amy are right. We’re not safe, even in this house.”

  April got up. “And just what are you suggesting? That we leave? Are you insane?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. If we stay here, we’re just sitting ducks.”

  “And if we go out there, we’re going to be sticking our necks out so far it wouldn’t be funny. I know those people. They tried to kill me. They just tried to kill all of us, and they won’t stop. We go out there, we’ll just fall right into their trap. Same goes for that creature. It’d be suicide for us to go. I say we stay right here and wait it out.”

  “Wait for what?” Logan spoke up. “For the monster to come in here and get us?”

  “How can it get in here?” April pointed at the solid walls. “We’re surrounded by brick.”

  “Haven’t you been listening, lady!” Amy snapped. “Haven’t you heard a word we’ve said! That thing’ll find a way! It will get us! We’re in trouble here, can’t you understand?”

  “I understand perfectly!” April glared at her.

  “You do, huh? You don’t understand shit! You haven’t seen what I’ve seen!”

  April stepped toward the girl. “Honey, you have no idea what I’ve seen. I know just as well as you do how deadly it is, maybe even better.”

  “Yeah, well how do you know?”

  “A guy was skinned alive right in front of me, okay!” she stared with wide, bloodshot eyes. “Skinned alive and eaten.”

  “Oh, my god!” Amy tugged at her own hair. “Oh my god! I can’t believe this! I can’t believe this! We can’t stay here! Logan, let’s go! Let’s go!”

  “Okay, okay. We’ll go,” he tried to embrace her again, but this time she nudged away.

  “No, we can’t go!” April insisted. “It’s not safe!”

  Jeff intervened. “April, we’re leaving.”

  “NO!” she stomped her foot. “I’m staying right here, and you should stay here with me!”

  “And do what?” Jeff barked. “Sit here and wait for them to come kill us? I mean, I have a shotgun, but I’m not about to get into a firefight with those guys. No telling what kind of arsenal they have,” he shook his head. “No. I can’t risk that. Not with my boy here. My first priority is his life, and it’s in danger every second we stay here.”

  She dropped her shoulders, sighing heavily.

  “Are you with us?” Jeff gave her a hopeful look.

  “I don’t like it,” she told him. “But I can’t stay here all by myself.”

  “You’re right,” he let out his relief. “We stay together. From here out,” he stared at his son, sharpening his eyes. “You hear me? No more wandering off. You got that?”

  Logan blinked at the floor and nodded. “I’m sorry, Dad. I just…Amy needed my help and I guess—”

  Jeff bailed him out. “Just don’t do it again,” he patted his pockets. “I gotta find my keys,” he pointed to the basement kitchenette. “Logan, Amy, go get some food—and there’s some bottled water in the fridge, too. Get those.”

  “Come on,” Logan had Amy follow him.

  April stared at Jeff. “Just what are you planning? A camping trip?”

  “I don’t know. I’m just thinking about the worst case scenario. My plan is to get to town and find the police, but there’s no telling what we’re gonna encounter out there. Those maniacs who tried to shoot us might try something else when we’re on the road.”

  “They might try what they did to me,” April agreed. “They might run us off a cliff.”

  “That’s why I think we should take the back roads.”

  “Is there a back way out of Jack Falls Road?”

  “No. It’s a dead end.”

  She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. “Great. That’s how they’ll do it. They’re probably setting up their ambush right
now. You know they cut the phone lines. That means the internet’s down for sure. And even if you did get cellphone service, they probably have something that jams the damned signals. They’re just toying with us, setting the trap.”

  “And so is that monster,” he gave her a grave face.

  “A rock and a hard place,” she returned the look.

  “It’s almost too much to believe. What the hell’s going on? It’s like the whole world’s gone crazy.”

  She nodded. “It could get worse. That thing could spread.”

  “How far do you think it can go?”

  “No telling. But if it’s gotten out of that canyon, there’s no stopping it from spreading all the way to Portland.”

  “We can’t let that happen. We have to warn somebody.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. I guess I was just scared.”

  He kept his eyes locked on the window. “I’m scared, too. We all are.”

  “Okay,” Logan emerged from the kitchen, Amy not far behind. He held a plastic grocery bag up for his dad to inspect. “We got it.”

  “Are you sure you got enough,” Jeff stared at it. “Maybe we should bring some more water.”

  “Dad, we got all the water we could find. It’s plenty.”

  “We could always melt snow if we ran out,” April suggested.

  “Not if the snow’s black,” Amy stared into space.

  April took one step toward her and reached out a hand, but she raised a shoulder and turned away. Jeff knew it hurt April’s feelings.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he got close and whispered. “She’ll come around.”

  He felt her flinch at the sudden, forceful sound of rapping. For a brief moment, Jeff thought it was a gun. It wasn’t.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “Someone’s at the front door,” Jeff said. “I think.”

  Logan said, “Well, it’s not the monster.”

  The knocking became even louder, more insistent.

  “You said you had a shotgun?” April raised an eyebrow at Jeff.

  “Yeah but,” he ran his hand along his near-shaven head. “I told you. I’m not gonna get into a firefight with a bunch of guys armed to the teeth.”

  The knocking became pounding. It rattled the walls.

  “Anything’s better than nothing at this point,” she stared into his eyes.

  “Wait here,” he took a shaky breath and went to retrieve his only firearm—an old Winchester double-barrel.

  April smiled when Jeff resurfaced from the back room, striding down the hall. “I’ve seen one of those before. My grandpa had one. He let me shoot it once.”

  He lifted it triumphantly. “Hey, I know. It’s old. But it still packs a hell of a punch.”

  “It’s a classic. A model twenty-one, right?”

  He suddenly felt a little more respect for her. “Very good,” he opened the breech, slid in two shells, and slammed it shut. Then a man’s voice called out and made his trigger finger twitch. It scared everybody. The looks on their faces were clear.

  “Who is it?” April stared at him.

  He shook his head. “Hard to tell from down here.”

  “Dad, I think we should go and—”

  “Shhh!”

  The man at the door yelled again.

  “Did you hear that?”

  “What did he say?”

  “Shhh!”

  Jeff watched the windows near the top of the wall on either side of the stone chimney. Two long, narrow, clear panes of glass letting in small fractures of early morning light.

  A shadow streaked across the window on the right.

  “Shit! Jeff!” April yanked his arm.

  Jeff’s skin crawled with millions of tiny bumps as the shadow crossed behind the chimney and approached the other window, slowing down and darkening the glass.

  “Shhh,” he was paralyzed. “Don’t move. Don’t anybody move.”

  The shadow got darker until it merged with its owner, a man wearing a heavy, blue coat. Jeff’s bowels turned to quivering Jell-O. He swore it was someone from NWP. Then he saw something that made him exhale. Lustrous against the navy blue jacket, pinned over the left breast, he saw a silver star badge.

  “Jeff!” the man hollered through the window. “Jeff Keller! It’s Tom Jenkins! Open up, I’ve got to talk to you!”

  April hugged him. He wasn’t hating it.

  “Thank God!” she wept. “Thank God!”

  TWENTY-SIX

  “ARMSTRONG! YOU SON of a bitch! You meant to miss!”

  “No, sir! I swear! It’s this rifle…the scope must be off!”

  Strawn pointed his Beretta at Armstrong. “Put the rifle down.”

  “But…but I tried to hit them. I tried. The trees…the glare…”

  “I thought the scope was off,” Strawn stopped him cold with that one. “Armstrong, I know you’re not that incompetent. I have the file on you. You’ve done wet work before. What happened? Have you gone soft?”

  Armstrong looked defeated. He lowered the rifle and leaned against the seat. “Sir, there’s no reasoning this one away. There are kids down there. Kids. I just can’t do it.”

  “Enough!” Strawn aimed the gun between his eyes.

  “Sir!” the pilot interrupted, pointing to the ground. He rotated the helicopter so his boss could see. Though Strawn had already witnessed the anomalous entity in action, it made his pulse race when he saw it, moving through the dense forest, playing a game of cat and mouse with the shadows.

  “My God!” Armstrong’s eyes were wide, his mouth wider. “It’s growing!”

  Strawn noticed the thing did seem larger—and getting even bigger right before their eyes. He leaned closer to the glass, clouding it with his breath. Annoyed, he wiped the fog away.

  “Magnificent!” he felt his pocketbook getting fatter. Then a notion hatched in his head. “Anybody have an idea how we can lure this thing to the house where that reporter is hiding?”

  His employees went silent. Neither man so much as looked at him.

  “What?” he searched them both.

  “What do you want to do?” Armstrong asked finally.

  “Just a little experiment. Kill two birds with one stone. If it goes right, we can eliminate Miss Murray, and at the same time, we can see if that organism’s as efficient as you say it is. This is a perfect testing ground, cut off from the world. All we have to do is nudge our creature along a little, guide it to where we want it to go.”

  Armstrong stared a hole through Strawn.

  “What!” Strawn glared at him. “I know you want to say something, SAY IT!”

  Only the steady Thump! Thump! Thump! of the rotors.

  Strawn let his gaze roam to the dark entity as it snaked along in the ice below. It looked like a giant pool of oil with whip-like projections reaching out, feeling the way, cresting over rocky embankments and rolling through flat meadows.

  “You know I’m right. That amazing organism could be the next great discovery in military science. Think of it. It could be a real game-changer in future wars. Think of how much of a deterrent it could be, the lives it could save. Don’t be naive, Armstrong. Civilians died when they were developing the atom bomb. Civilians die all the time for the greater good. It’s like the old saying goes: ‘You have to break a few eggs to make an omelet.’”

  He felt something touch his shoulder and turned, seeing exactly what he’d expected—the business end of the M14. Armstrong had it trained at his heart.

  “Why am I not surprised?” his calm seemed to unnerve Armstrong.

  “Shut up! Shut up right now!” a bead of sweat formed on his forehead. “We’re not doing this, not anymore! Change of plans, Henderson! We’re going home! Then we’re going to call in a proper biohazard team to take care of this thing. No more killing! We can’t do this, Gary! We just can’t!”

  “But we can,” Strawn kept his cool, even tone. “We can, and we will. It’s our duty to the betterment of mankind. You migh
t not see it, but I truly believe we’re on the cusp of a major discovery, here. Something our grandkids will be telling their grandkids. Something for the history books. We can’t just let this slip through our fingers.”

  “Gary, you’re insane,” the rifle barrel trembled in Armstrong’s wobbly hands. “This whole thing’s insane, and I won’t have any part in it!”

  “You see, that’s where you’re mistaken,” Strawn smirked. “Sadly mistaken.”

  ‘Pop!’

  A nine millimeter slug hit Armstrong in the chest, blood peppering his chin and cheeks, painting his jacket with a splotch of red. Eyes bulging, he dropped the rifle and fought for breath, gurgling up a mouthful of crimson froth instead. Strawn didn’t dare shoot him again. He wasn’t sure if it mattered, but he wanted his ‘bait’ to be alive, just in case. No room for error on this little experiment, and he wanted badly to get it right.

  “You…you shot me!” Armstrong managed in a scratchy voice.

  “The most accurate thing you’ve said all day,” Strawn unbuckled his harness and stepped through the small space between the two captain’s chairs, careful to keep his weapon aimed expertly at Armstrong.

  He kicked the rifle away. It clanged against the metal passenger chair.

  Armstrong wheezed when Strawn pistol-whipped him in the head. The blow split open his skin and looked like it took a nice little divot out of his skull. The stricken man pushed his fists toward Strawn’s arms, but seemed to have no strength. The wound in his chest pooled blood in his lap. The gash near his temple looked fatal, still the man had fight left in him. Strawn felt relieved. He didn’t mean to hit Armstrong so hard.

  He stepped over his bait, his worm, and slid open the hatch. On the floor, he found the hoist harness. He pressed the winch release button and yanked the cable to create some slack, enough to reach Armstrong’s feet.

  “Hey, what’re you doing,” Armstrong slurred. His head rolled side to side. “Stop it…don’t…”

  Strawn looped the cable and fastened the buckle, pulling the harness tight. “Remember when I said sometimes you have to break a few eggs to make an omelet?”

  Armstrong’s head stopped rolling. He looked at Strawn.