Winter's Fury - Volume Two of The Saga of the Twelves

by Richard M. Heredia

  From the ground came the tiny voice of Louis. “I still think somebody farted…”

  “Go to sleep, Louis!” came the shout from more than one of them.

  ~~~~~~~<<< ᴥ >>>~~~~~~~

  ~ 44 ~

  Of Lesser Value

  Monday, November 29th, 4:08 am…

  Vanessa Menendez sat up in bed as fast as she could manage, though she had no clue why she felt the need to move so quickly. Something had startled her from her dreams. Inklings and mental figments had already scattered to the wind. Sleep as usual had made her wild hair look insane. Her stringy locks stuck out in every direction except down. She glanced about her bedroom unsure if it was reality or the dream that was making her so unsettled.

  What was I dreaming by the way? she asked, trying but failing to recall what had startled her from what had been, until moments ago, nice dreams.

  The abrupt nature of it was confusing.

  She rubbed at her eyes, glancing over at the digital readout of her clock facing her from the nightstand. 4:08 am! Holy crap! Will I get any sleep tonight?

  On automatic, her mind immediately went to the late night conversation she’d had with Lynn a few hours earlier. Her friend had been distraught over the lack of new information about Andrew. Even her Aunt Denise had dribbled insignificant factoids her direction. They were points with no real merit to the case, with no real new information attached. All she had said was The Event was on-going. It was not over yet. Something immense was underfoot. And there was nothing any of them – not the police, not the Department of Homeland Security, etc. – could determine was the motive. Why abduct so many children? Why such a high concentration of kidnappings in such a small geographic area? What were they going to do with them?

  Why? Why? Why?

  So many questions without answers, Lynn had been crying through Vanessa’s cell.

  The buxom teen felt bad for her friend. She knew the girl had mooned over Andrew for quite some time, unable to determine if she liked him or not. It was not until he had been snatched from her life that she had come to realize all along her feelings were true ones.

  It frustrated Lynn to no avail that she could do nothing about them. She could not tell him. She could not know if he felt the same. And, if he did, she could not hold him in her arms and let her heart burst in her chest.

  Vanessa felt bad. She flopped back down upon her pillow, her misbehaving mane like that of a male lion, her broad face and hazel eyes pointed at the ceiling. None of this shit made any sense to her. It was confounding beyond belief. It was a wicked twist of evil tidings none of them could escape. Wouldn’t it be so much easier to just go back in time, to that last week of school? Everything was normal then. Everyone was happy… or as happy as they’d let themselves be.

  She ran a hand across her forehead, her unease forgotten, worry of a different stroke plaguing her thoughts. She let her mind continue through their talk, like she was reading a script, only in her head.

  Lynn had finally calmed down after many minutes of Vanessa’s soothing. Through a stuffy nose, Lynn had asked something that had stopped Vanessa cold. It was a simple question, devoid of complication.

  “Have you seen J.J.?”

  Vanessa was thunderstruck. She had not heard anything from her friend since Friday night. They had talked on the phone, trying to decide whether to go to a party or to Lynn’s. J.J., being the consummate club-slave, had opted for the shindig.

  Vanessa had gone to their friend’s house.

  But, the Filipino teen had promised to visit them the following day. She had not. She had not called or texted or direct messaged them through Facebook or Twitter. It was like…

  “You don’t think?!?” Lynn had asked, horrified.

  For a moment, Vanessa had not known what to do or say. She had swallowed her voice, her throat constricting with dread.

  “Ness, you don’t think they got her, do you?”

  “I do-do-don’t k-know…” Her speech had dwindled like someone turning down music with a dial.

  “Oh my god, no! I’m going to call her right now.”

  Vanessa remained silent, only able to listen.

  “How could we have been so stupid not to think about her?”

  Vanessa remembered shaking her head back and forth at a loss. With so much going on, so much worry over Andrew, she had completely forgotten about their other friend.

  “I’m going to three-way her in, ok?”

  Vanesa had nodded before she realized the other teen had no way of seeing her affirmation. She began to speak, but by then Lynn was already dialing, her ear away from the microphone end of her cell.

  They were the longest seven rings of Vanessa’s life.

  And then, nothing.

  The cell went to voicemail.

  Lynn had left a urgent message, pleading for J.J. to call them back and then terminated the call.

  “Try again,” Vanessa had mumbled.

  “What?”

  “Try again, please.”

  “Sure.”

  The result had been the same as the first. Only when Lynn tried to leave a second message, a monotone, female voice clinically informed them that J.J.’s voicemail box was full. The line severed before either of them could breathe.

  “Something’s wrong,” Lynn had said.

  “J.J. would never let her voicemail fill up. She’s too anal about her phone,” Vanessa had flubbed. She felt punched in the stomach, unable to catch her breath, her insides cramping.

  “What should we do?”

  “Do you have her parent’s phone number – house or cell?”

  A long silence.

  “No.”

  “Me either.”

  “Maybe they’re online,” Lynn had suggested, her enthusiasm abound.

  “They’re not. Remember what J.J. had told us about her trying to get them up to speed with the rest of us?”

  “Fuck.”

  “’Old school’ is what she’d said.”

  “Yeah, ‘old school’.”

  Lynn had begun to whimper anew. “Maybe we should call the police.”

  “That's done already.”

  “You sure.”

  “Yeah, her family would’ve already done that.”

  “But, still…”

  Vanessa’s tone firmed, a decision made. “Let’s go down to the Police Station tomorrow morning first thing and give them what we know. You know, the last time we spoke to her, what we talked about, stuff like that.”

  “Ok.”

  “It’s late, girl. We should get some sleep, so we can get an early start.”

  “Ok,” repeated Lynn, slow. Then, faster: “Maybe she got drunk and crashed out at someone’s house.”

  “Maybe,” was all Vanessa ventured. Even if their friend had partied a little too hard, they would have heard from her by now. The entire weekend had passed.

  “Hey, that could be the answer.” Lynn sounded like she was on the verge of breaking, as frail as scorched glass.

  They had made a promise to get up early and go down to the police station in person and give their respective statements. They then had said their good-byes.

  Vanessa peeked over at the clock. 4:15am shown unblinking back at her – an angry, demon-red glare. She smacked her lips, thirsty of a sudden and reached for the water bottle she customarily kept on the nightstand next to her clock. She clicked her tongue, derisive, when she found it empty. Dammit! Now, I’m gonna have to go all the way to the kitchen to get another one. Frick!

  She threw her bedcovers from her and made for the door, her nightgown fluttering in her wake.

  I’m going to start bringing two from now -.

  That was as far as she got – to the instant the door swung open.

  She had time to realize the way was still obstructed, blocked by something huge, and it was not the door. She heard a strange hissing. A terrible smell engulfed her. She felt her knees buckle the moment fire erupted in her lungs.

  Abyss fo
llowed.

  ~~~~~~~<<< ᴥ >>>~~~~~~~

  ~ 45 ~

  Boiling Point

  Monday, November 29th, 4:59 am…

  Despite his sizable bulk when Miles Novello wanted to move with a purpose, he could. They had all been asleep with the lantern turned down to its’ lowest level, he was awake in a flash, springing forth. Something directed him without conscious thought.

  With the agility of an alley-cat, he leapt to his feet from the blankets he had been sleeping upon (After eight “deliveries” they accumulated enough to make a decent cushion with them). He was stalking toward the large, iron-bound door the moment he heard the chains rattle and the lock disengage.

  He knew he should be frightened. God knew those terrible things with their ever-changing faces and bodies were fearsome beyond belief. They were so alien. They made his skin crawl, irritated the nape of his neck with an uncontrollable itch . He should be cowering like the rest of them held prisoner in what Christina had everyone saying was a bomb-shelter. He was not. He was a Grand Canyon’s worth of emotion away from anything that did not resemble pure wrath.

  Shoulders hunched, fists balled, knees near-stiff, he was standing before the door when one of the creatures pushed it open.

  It had another blanket-wrapped bundle upon one of its’ massive shoulders.

  “You have no right to keep us here! Let us go, now!” he shouted at the man/woman-thing.

  “Miles, no!” came Marissa’s tiny voice from behind.

  He ignored her.

  Her captivity had been the longest of any of them, so it was no surprise to him that she was as scared of the beasts as she was.

  He was not.

  “Let. Us. Go,” he demanded through a clenched jaw. He bit off the end of each word with the same ferocity he would use on a triple chili-cheese from Tommy’s.

  The monstrosity gazed back at him with a baleful expression. Its’ eyes changed color and shape. Its’ hair sucked back into its’ head as if the pores themselves were ravenous. In the span of a few seconds, it was bald. A few moments later, it was no longer male, but female. It was a huge Amazonian now. There were scars crisscrossing her face and a couple of gigantic warts, almost like keloids, disfiguring her nose. It never stopped glaring at Miles.

  “Let us go or -.”

  “Or what, soft human?” It was the voice of a man emanating from the throat of a woman. It was confusing. “You think to fight me?”

  Miles stiffened, though the thought of tangling with the creature was alarming. He could tell by the way they walked, by the sway of their arms, by the crooks of their elbows – they wielded thick muscles beneath the heavy outer-garments they wore. He knew by the tread of their steel-shod boots each of them outweighed him by at least a hundred pounds. And he was just over two hundred.

  Yet, he held his ground, refused to look away, unwilling to blink. “I-if… If it comes to that, I will do what I have to.”

  The creature laughed, deep, rumbling, but with a timbre that shook the boy in the middle of his chest. It swung its’ right arm forward, dropping a large rucksack full of what miles deemed was more food. With more of them down here, they were constant need of nourishment. The man/woman-things were bringing sustenance with every visit now, even when they did not have an abductee in tow.

  Miles eyes followed the things’ arm, ready should the creature strike out at him.

  He cringed, then braced a second later when something heavy fell into his arms. His mouth went slack went the blanket fell away, revealing a Hispanic teen girl. She had light-brown hair, curls abound. Her strong face was sluggish looking. She was out cold.

  The man/woman-thing’s voice brought his head back up. “You would not last all that long against the likes of a Loki, boy. Do well. Take care of the girl instead. Make sure she learns the rules.”

  Miles half-turned to one side. Out of instinct, he was shielding the girl from the creature.

  It was an Amazon no more. It was a colossal Asian with a neck so wide, it seemed not to have one at all. It made champion Sumo wrestlers look like children.

  “If she breaks any, I’ll hold you responsible.” It rumbled with laughter once more. The sound was so low, he felt it more than heard it.

  He found himself shivering before he could stop.

  “You don’t scare me,” Miles said. It was a veiled attempt at defiance. He was disinclined to show weakness, though he knew the creature could tear him limb from limb. He tried just the same. He was not about to back down now.

  Besides, motivation was driving him more than any fear felt inside. He wanted nothing more than to see Deborah again.

  The merriment stopped at once.

  “Miles don’t be stupid! Leave him alone,” appealed Christina. “He’ll hurt you.” Her voice cracked. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  Miles felt his jaw tighten.

  “It wouldn’t do any good, my friend,” came the stilted interjection from Chum-Lee.

  “You are exceedingly foolish, even for a human.”

  Miles face hardened.

  “Vanessa!” screeched J.J. from behind, making a mad scramble for the girl the chubby teen held in his arms. She reached for the girl, her almond-shaped eyes as wide as they could go. Her hands searched over her unconscious friend’s face as if she were no more than ash and would disintegrate to no more than dust with a single touch.

  Miles turned to face the distraught Filipina. He heard the door closing, but did not bother to look at the Loki as it shut them within the bomb shelter once again.

  Now’s not the time, he thought, trying to put the Loki? out of his mind

  The bumping and scraping of the heavy chain made him snarl, but he did not move. He hated this place, despised being held against his will. He would get out. One way or another he would figure a way. Though their search earlier had proved unfruitful, he would think – real hard – and he would find a way for them to escape.

  For the time being, he stepped away from the portal, bending at the knees to place Vanessa upon the ground.

  J.J. unfolded her from the covering, checking to see if had any injuries with hands that spasmed and jerked. Like the rest of them, when they had arrived, they had come without a scratch.

  “Do you know her?” asked Jeremy.

  From within the foul mood consuming him, Miles frowned at the dude. What’da’ya think, dipstick?

  “Yes.” J.J. glanced up at the well-muscled boy. “She’s one of my best friends.” She tore her eyes from him to gaze down at Vanessa, her body shuddering with sorrow. “Look what they’ve done to you.” She placed both hands on one of the girls’ arms, squeezing from time to time as she wept.

  “She’s pretty,” commented Jeremy, glancing over at Miles for confirmation.

  The large boy found himself peering down at the supine form on the ground.

  Miller giggled, but was nodding like a bobble-head,

  She was pretty, curvy for a teenager with broad hips and a nice set bazunga’s. Her hair was disheveled and uncombed, but that did not take away from the appealing set of her nose or the flushed hue of her lips. The first was long and delicate, the second were widespread, ripe for kissing.

  She was clad in only a nightgown. Once J.J. had ascertained that her friend’s legs and feet were bare, she was fast to cover them with the blanket.

  “Yup, she’s pretty alright,” agreed Miles.

  “Of course she’s pretty,” said J.J., maybe a little harsher than she had intended. “She’s my friend after all.” She shrugged her shoulders and shook her head as if the boys should have known better from the outset.

  Marissa stepped to them, all business. “Well, let’s see if we can get her to wake-up and then find a way to nurse the headache we all know she gonna have.” She was only as tall as Miles’ waist, yet her presence was commanding.

  Since when did we put the little squirt in-charge? he asked himself, a questioning look on his face.

  And yet, he was not all that
surprised when the others came closer to do her bidding.

  “Alicia, the man-thing is gone. You can come away from the wall now,” beckoned the little general to her heavy-set friend.

  The other girl peeled herself from the barrier.

  To Miles, she still looked like she seen her entire lineage as ghosts, in a long procession to boot.

  Marissa smiled at her, but it was motherly, unfit for a female her age.

  But it’s not, now that I think about it. Somehow it’s fitting.

  The rest of the group gathered around Vanessa, rubbing her hands, as gentle as possible, shaking her at the shoulder.

  Marissa remained standing, one hand on her hip. Then she snapped her fingers with the other. “Alicia, see what the man-thing brought us. Maybe you could find some water we could give to J.J.’s friend.”

  It worked. The thick-boned girl smiled. It was weak, but still it was a smile. She made her way toward the rucksack that was near-bursting.

  Miles stared at Marissa for a few more moments. She is in-charge, he marveled. How could someone so small, so tiny – so young – get them to follow her lead without any of them taking notice? When had it happened?

  He had not been down here all that long – not even a full night. Still he still had difficulty pin-pointing the exact moment when her assertions had become something more than mere suggestions. She had slipped into the role as smooth as silk, he doubted even she was aware of what she was doing.

  Was she changing? Was she something more than she had been when I met her last night? But, it had been less than six hours.

  The strangest aspect of the situation was it felt right. Though he had no idea how or why he could make such a determination, somewhere deep, deep down it felt like a reality he could not ignore. It was as though something in his DNA was telling him so. How could one deny the certainty, the basic truth, of genetics?

  He shook away the thought, his vision still on Marissa who was helping the others. “I’m going to go help Alicia,” he stated, not sure why.