by Ilia Bera
She didn’t want people to think of her like some weird girl who sat in the back of the class, away from everyone else—even though that was exactly who she knew she was.
She anxiously sipped her water and continued to stare at the television—waiting for a good moment to slip away.
“It’s Hanna, right?” a voice said behind her.
She turned around and looked up. Connor was standing above her, smiling.
“Yeah,” she replied.
“I’m Connor,” he said.
Hanna smiled. Her eyes quickly darted away from Connor—too anxious to maintain eye contact for too long. It took her a moment to realize Connor had extended his hand for a shake.
“Nice to meet you,” Connor said, shaking the shy young girl’s hand.
Hanna looked back up into Connor’s eyes. She forced a smile and nodded.
“You’re welcome to come sit with us—we can squeeze
together and pull up another chair.”
Hanna looked over at the table, which already looked overly-crammed as it was. As Hanna looked over, Brittany quickly looked away.
“Um—I might just take off here soon,” Hanna said.
“Are you sure?” Connor asked. “You should stay and hang out—Just for a bit.”
“I have to be up early, so I probably shouldn’t stay out too late.”
Connor walked around Hanna and pulled up a chair. Hanna suddenly felt tense—uncomfortable with Connor’s persistence.
“Mind if I ask why you’re retaking English?” Connor asked as he scooted in closer to the anxious girl.
“I never took it in high school.”
“Why not?” Connor asked.
“I dropped out.”
“Really? Why?” Connor asked.
Hanna didn’t respond as she fondled her finger along the rim of her glass.
“Sorry—that was a personal question. Are you trying to get into University?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Hanna looked up at the television.
“Just keeping doors open?” Connor asked.
“I guess,” Hanna said.
Connor wasn’t getting much out of the quiet girl. He looked up to see what Hanna was watching. “Do you like hockey?” he asked.
“Huh?”
“Hockey—Do you like it?”
“Um, I don’t know. I don’t really know much about it.”
“I used to play,” Connor said.
“Oh—Cool,” Hanna said.
“I was first line centre, triple A.”
Hanna smiled. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what that means.”
“Do you skate?” Connor asked.
“No.”
“You should learn. I could teach you.”
Hanna looked over Connor’s shoulder. She could see Brittany staring, with an unimpressed look on her face.
“You seem like a really cool person, Hanna.”
“Huh?” Hanna replied.
“You seem cool—We should hang out some time. Maybe grab a drink or something—Just me and you.”
Hanna’s mind began to spin. Her body continued to tense up and her anxiety level rose even higher. “I should probably go,” Hanna said as she stood up from her bar stool.
“Really?” Connor asked.
“Yeah. It was nice talking to you.”
“Likewise—I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” Connor said. “If you want, I’ll walk you home—You probably shouldn’t walk alone with all of that snow, and with that lunatic running around.”
“Thanks—I’ll be okay. I don’t live far. Bye,” Hanna said
Hanna quickly put her coat on and left Connor sitting alone at the bar.
“Bye,” Connor replied.
Hanna left the bar, into the cold snowy night. She made her way down the snow-covered sidewalks, across campus and into the lower-class end of town.
Her house was old and, from the outside, you would think that it was long abandoned. The windows were mostly broken—covered up with old sheets of plywood. The green paint on the walls had mostly peeled off, revealing the grungy cement stucco underneath.
Hanna walked up the un-shovelled yard, and she opened up her decrepit door, which hung onto the wall by a single rusted hinge.
The inside of her house was cold, and empty. Very few of the lights worked, and the ones that did work were foggy and dim.
Aside from the mattress in Hanna’s bedroom, there was no furniture in the whole house. Every second floorboard squeaked and the walls constantly moaned and groaned as the old house begged to be put out of its misery.
The only source of entertainment in the house was an old radio that sat on the floor next to Hanna’s old mattress. As Hanna walked into her bedroom, she turned the radio on, and then she lay down in her bed. She stared up at the ceiling as she listened to the fuzzy classic rock channel that the old radio was permanently stuck on.
She couldn’t get the image of Connor’s face out of her mind. She couldn’t stop thinking about him—wondering why he was so insistent on talking to her, and wanting her to stay. Hanna couldn’t sleep over the thought of Connor’s piercing blue eyes.
He was cute.
“He doesn’t like me,” Hanna told herself. “He can’t.”
No one had ever liked Hanna. She’d never been asked on a date. No boy had ever complimented her. She’d never been called “cool”. She couldn’t help but think that it was a trick—she’d been tricked before—many times. More than likely, this was just another set up for another cruel prank.
The song on the radio ended, and the nighttime host came on. “That was By-Tor and the Snow Dog, by Rush—off of their second album, Fly By Night!
“Snow continues to pile up on the streets. Today, Snowbrooke came a single centimetre of snow short of breaking the December snowfall record set four years ago—in case you don’t remember, that was the week after the infamous Wilkinson House Murder. Better not make any plans, because it doesn’t look like the snow plans on slowing down anytime soon. Be careful out there! Those roads are slippery!” the radio host warned.
“If you don’t need to drive, then don’t! Bundle up and, if you can, stay at home where it’s warm. Be sure to pick up a generator from your local hardware store—If your power hasn’t gone out yet, consider yourself one of the lucky few.”
A sharp gust of wind blew against the boarded windows, eliciting a loud groan out of the dilapidated house.
“And just in case you needed another reason to stay inside during this cold snap—there was yet another murder here in Snowbrooke last night. Police haven’t released any details, or the name of the victim just yet. This is just the most recent in a series of grizzly serial murders, bringing the death toll up to ten in the past month. Six of the murders happened on the Snowbrooke University Campus, and the other four happened in various spots around town. Police are telling Snowbrooke residents to stay inside, and to stay with friends and family.
“Police have also denied rumours today that the murders were carried out by a ‘vampire’, and they reminded press today that there is no such thing as vampires. Police have asked the media to stop referring to the killer as ‘The Vampire’—saying that we are more than likely ‘stroking his twisted ego’.
“If you are a student at the University, do not walk alone. SBU has set up a Safe Walk program—details of which can be found on the SBU home page. Simply dial a number and two student volunteers will come to meet you. They will walk you wherever you need to go. It’s completely free, and volunteers won’t accept any tips—so for the love of God, call the number!
“It has not been confirmed whether the last three victims were students or teachers attending the University. Constable Hendricks said this in a public statement…”
The radio host switched on an audio recording. “We need to start acting like a community if we’re going to overcome this demented killer. This isn’t just something that the SBU campus needs to worry about. This is a ser
ious crisis that pertains to the whole town. I can’t stress this enough—stay with your families. The world will continue to turn if you have to miss a day or two of work.”
“So there you go—Now you have a great reason to stay inside, stay warm and keep listening to K.I.S.M., 102.5—Snowbrooke’s only Classic Rock Radio. And speaking of the police—here’s Sting, with The Police!” A Police song came on the radio.
Hanna reached over and shut off the radio. She sighed—her head racing with too many thoughts to ever fall asleep.
She sat up, picked up a little notebook, which sat next to her bed, and she brought herself to her feet. She made her way through her house, to a ladder that led up to the attic. She climbed it.
Unlike the rest of the empty house, the attic was packed with things—boxes, old furniture, children’s toys, and stacks of picture frames. Everything was coated in a thick layer of dust. Across the creaky attic was a window—the only window in the house without a slab of wood covering it. Hanna walked over to it and sat down.
The window looked out into Snowbrooke, over the neighbouring rooftops. From that little attic window, Hanna could see the whole town—what wasn’t obscured by snow, at least. She looked out into the sea of snow-covered rooftops, under which was the occasional orange glow of another human life—another sleepless insomniac—another complex set of problems, anxieties relationships and ambitions.
Hanna opened up her notebook, and began to write.
SIX
A WHALE NEAR FIJI
There was one particularly warm light glowing in the dark snowy town...
Down at The Winter’s Den, the night was as lively as ever. A few more college students had trickled in, and a few more drinks had been consumed. One particularly rowdy and drunken group of students insisted on having the music in the bar turned up louder—a request which was normally denied. But that night, a rare exception was made.
As the music became louder, the voices became louder. The drink orders became more frequent, and the patrons became more outgoing.
Kane, who had been relatively silent all night, had migrated over to the bar, where he patiently watched the joint become more and more lively.
Andrew was recounting tales from his four year long adventure at sea. Connor was fascinated with Andrew’s stories. He leaned in closely and listened.
“The ship’s instruments were all spinning around in circles, and it was impossible to figure out which direction we were heading. The fog hadn’t let up for three whole days, and it had been nearly two weeks since we’d seen land.
“The only time we could figure out where we were was at night. There was a single hour in the middle of the night where the fog would be thin enough that we could see the stars. My dad knew the constellations—we followed Cassiopeia all the way from the middle of the South Pacific, about five hundred miles off the coast of New Zealand.
“As we crossed the thirty-fifth parallel, it started to pour rain—a couple hundred miles from Fiji to the north,” Andrew continued. “And when I say rain, I don’t mean like the rain we get here. When it rains on the South Pacific—it really rains—torrential downpour.
“We were struggling to keep our masts up. The winds were blowing at over eighty miles an hour. In order to stay upright, we had to turn our boat off course. Waves were literally rolling over the twenty-foot high deck, just narrowly missing the main mast. If the mast had gone down, we would have been sunk—dead.
“Three straight hours of King Tide and then the biggest wave of the storm hit us, knocking us all off of our feet. As we all stood up, it was totally calm. The rain seemed to suddenly stop and the water became as still as glass. All around us we could see these massive, white-capped waves, and sheets upon sheets of rain. It was like we were in some sort of impenetrable air bubble. We were right in the centre of it all—the eye of the storm.
“We all stared out, into the storm. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen in your life. There was no sound—nothing. And then, as we all stood dripping wet and frozen, we heard this deep groaning noise. I didn’t know what it was—but my dad knew—he’d heard it before.
“He walked slowly up to the edge of the boat and looked down as the noise got louder and louder. Then, the most unbelievable thing happened. A massive blue whale—the largest living creature on the planet—in our entire solar system, rose up right next to our boat.
“He was enormous—easily twice as tall as our big boat. It looked right at us. Its eyeball was bigger than my head—as big as this table. It stayed there for a good fifteen seconds, just watching us,” Andrew continued.
Connor stared at Andrew, totally in awe of his story.
Andrew took a sip from his pint of beer.
“And then what happened?” Connor asked.
“The whale sunk back down, and the waves hit us again. But the storm had tapered off. It was still bad, but nothing we couldn’t handle. We never saw the whale again.”
“That’s amazing,” Connor said.
Andrew took another sip from his beer, finishing it off.
“There’s no blue whales in the South Pacific,” Brittany pointed out.
“What’s that?” Andrew asked.
“Blue whales—they migrate along the Australian coast and up to Indonesia. They don’t go into the South Pacific.”
“It was a two-hundred tonne blue whale. I shit you not,” Andrew said.
“I believe you—I’m just saying. Maybe you were closer to New Zealand than you thought.”
“Before the morning we docked in Fiji—Not even four hours later.”
“So why was he there?” Connor asked.
“We don’t know. We told the coast guards in Fiji, and then again in New Zealand, but no one believed us,” Andrew concluded. “I’m going to grab another drink. Do you guys want anything?”
“I’d take another,” Connor said, taking a ten-dollar bill out from his wallet.
Andrew declined the money. “No, no. It’s on me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s my pleasure.”
“Thanks,” Connor said.
“Brittany?” Andrew said looked at Brittany.
“Um—Sure,” she said.
Andrew smiled and then went over to the bar where his brother in law was mixing drinks for a slew of young college students.
Brittany straightened her back and pushed her hair behind her ear. “You must have been really good,” she said to Connor.
“What do you mean?”
“On the hockey team—to be on the first line.”
“Oh—I guess so, yeah.”
“What was that like?” Brittany asked.
“Playing hockey?”
“Being so good—Being so talented.”
“Oh—I guess it was good. It’s hard to say. I was skating before I could walk, you know?” Connor laughed.
“What team do you play on now?” Brittany asked.
Connor looked down at the table. “I don’t really play much these days,” he said.
“Why not?”
“It’s—It’s complicated.”
“But you’re so talented. You have to play.”
“Well, that’s the reason I’m here, I guess.”
“What do you mean?” Brittany asked.
“We won—we won provincials two years ago. All of the college scouts were out. I scored the winning goal too. By now, I would have been in the AHL—maybe even NHL if I’d put in the work.”
“Why did you stop?”
“Well, to play on a college team, you need to get accepted into college.”
“I thought they had special admittance and scholarships for that kind of thing.”
“They do—but I didn’t meet the minimum requirement for any school. I failed English class—among others, and every school on the continent requires at least a passing English grade. I got passed by in the draft.”
“That’s okay though—in a few months you can try again, right?”
&nb
sp; Connor laughed and forced a smile. “I got kicked off of the team because my grades sucked—apparently that’s a requirement. I haven’t played a game in almost two years. All those other guys I used to play with all have years of experience and training on me now.”
“Well I think you can do it—I believe in you,” Brittany said.
Connor smiled. “Thanks.”
“Besides, a guy like you can do anything you want,” Brittany said with a smile.
Connor looked up into Brittany’s eyes. His eyes were bright blue and deep—in every sense of the word. They appeared to have many layers of spiralling bright blue tones.
Connor leaned in closer to Brittany. He looked around. “You seem like a really cool girl.”
Brittany blushed. “Thanks,” she said.
Connor smiled and then looked down at his lap. “I hope this isn’t coming out of nowhere...” Connor started.
Brittany leaned in closer to Connor. “What’s that?” she smiled. She bit her lip as she caught a whiff of Connor’s fresh scent.
“How do you know that Hanna girl?” Connor asked quietly.
Brittany’s flirtations were apparently in vein. She looked into Connor’s eyes for a moment longer before looking down at her lap.
“She went to the same school as me. I never really knew her to be honest. She never talked to me.”
“She seems nice,” Connor said.
Brittany looked up at Connor. “I don’t know—She’s got some loose screws. She would sit under the stairs at lunch by herself every day—apparently writing weird poems about wanting to kill other people or something. The police came to the school and it was a big deal.”
“Is that actually what she was writing? You know how rumours can start...”
“I heard her read one of them out loud. She stopped showing up for school after word got around that she slept with half of the volleyball team.”
“Really? Did she?”
“Apparently.”
Connor nodded apprehensively. “Kids always start rumours like that—they’re rarely true.”
“I didn’t hear it from any kids—the volleyball coach himself told us.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah—He said that he walked in on her... You know Other teachers said the same thing. The girl couldn’t keep her panties on.”