A Cold Tomorrow

by Mae Clair

  Cold air gusted into the bunker with the force of a small cyclone. Caught off guard, Caden raised his arms to shield his face. The tempest roared over him, pelting him in a whirlwind of leaves, twigs, and dirt. Ice engulfed him, cold and frigid as the Ohio River. The biting sensation reawakened the memory of being trapped in his car the night the Silver Bridge fell—a glut of twisted metal, dark water, and death.

  Maggie. He had to save Maggie.

  Staggering under the onslaught, he dropped to his knees. The flashlight slipped from his abruptly slack grip and struck the ground with a hollow thud. The beam winked out on its own, plunging the igloo into crypt-darkness. Caden covered his face with his hands.

  Frigid water.

  A blackness so cold it made him choke.

  Maggie.

  He gasped for breath, the pressure of weighted air slowly crushing his lungs.

  It wasn’t real. The bridge hadn’t just fallen. He wasn’t pinned in the wreckage of his car, his sister about to die at the hands of a murderer.

  Something loomed over him. Invisible suction-cup fingers clutched his face and wrenched his head up, pinning him in place. The grip on his chin was painful.

  “Parker is my mistake to fix,” an accented voice warned near his ear.

  Just that quickly, the thing—whatever it was—withdrew. Air flooded his lungs. A sliver of outside light pierced the doorway, driving back the shadows. The air warmed, heating the blood in his veins. He sucked down a jagged breath. His uniform was covered in dirt, the result of being pelted with leaves, stones, and soil. Other than his unkempt state, there was nothing to indicate he hadn’t dreamed the whole affair.

  Unsteadily, he climbed to his feet and finger-combed his hair, sweeping it free of grime.

  Parker is my mistake to fix.

  Those words hadn’t been in his head. Someone had spoken them directly into his ear. Staggering outside, he squinted against the sun. The whole episode had given him a pounding headache. He felt like he could chug a gallon of water.

  “Caden. Hey, Caden!”

  A man’s voice drew him around. He turned in time to see Duncan and Donnie Bradley stomp through the overgrowth.

  “What are you doing out here?” Duncan jogged to his side, followed by his brother. “Man, you look a mess.” His gaze flicked to the ammunitions bunker. “Were you crawling around inside the igloo?”

  Caden palmed a hand over his mouth, tasting dirt. “Something like that.” Hopefully, he didn’t look as rattled as he felt. The entity hadn’t turned hostile when conversing with Eve and Katie, but had been openly aggressive with him.

  He rubbed his jaw, wincing at the sore spot where the being had gripped him. “What are you two doing out here?”

  The brothers exchanged a glance. Donnie dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans and shrugged. “Nothing really.” The “nothing” sounded evasive. “Just, you know…poking around.”

  Caden scowled, noting the rifle Donnie clutched in his hands. “You’re Mothman hunting.” A half dozen dead dogs had stirred up the town. “You’re not packing anything other than that Winchester, are you?”

  “Just the rifle.” Duncan tended to be the more forthright of the two.

  His brother nudged him in the ribs. “Small game’s in season,” he added.

  As if realizing his blunder, Duncan hastily nodded agreement.

  Caden didn’t buy it, but there was little he could do. The Mothman had survived for almost two decades, probably far longer. If the creature lurked somewhere within the twisting labyrinth of the TNT, the thing was smart enough to outwit two local hunters. “I didn’t see your truck when I got here.”

  “Just pulled up about ten minutes ago,” Donnie said. “We saw your patrol car back that way.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “Thought maybe there was a problem. More dead dogs. You know.”

  Hence the rifle.

  Caden shook his head. “Just thought I’d take a drive.” Bullshit heaped upon their bullshit. The brothers plainly didn’t buy his story any more than he bought theirs.

  Donnie eyed the igloo. “Find anything interesting in there?”

  “The usual junk and debris. Lots of graffiti. You’ve seen it all before.” At one time or another, almost everyone in Point Pleasant had traipsed through the bunker where the Mothman had been sighted. The old dugout and the North Power Plant had been two of the cryptid’s favorite haunts.

  Caden’s radio squawked before he could say anything further. Stepping away from the brothers, he depressed the button on his handheld mic. “Flynn, here.”

  “Caden, it’s Ryan.” His brother sounded tense, wired on something. “I’m headed to the hospital with Katie.”

  Alarm shot through him. “What happened?”

  “Jerome’s awake. I went to the hotel to tell Katie about Evening and Lyle. While I was there, I got a message that Jerome’s up and talking. Like all he did was take a nap. Where are you?”

  “The TNT.”

  “What are you doing there?” He could almost hear the frown in his brother’s voice.

  “I’ll tell you later. I’ll meet you at the hospital.”

  “Got it.”

  Maybe now they’d get answers. Jerome had been to see Parker. Had probably put the note in Katie’s pocket, and might even know a thing or two about Indrid Cold or Lach Evening. So far everything seemed to tie together. If only he could make sense of how the Mothman factored into the puzzle. Parker indicated the creature was involved, and any unexplained occurrence in Point Pleasant usually found its root in the town’s infamous bird.

  Hooking the radio onto his belt, Caden turned back to the Bradley brothers. “Look, guys, I’m headed to town. Be careful out here, and watch what you shoot, okay?”

  “Under control, Sergeant.” Donnie gave him a mock salute.

  Caden sprinted for his car. Duncan and Donnie were on their own. Hopefully, they wouldn’t cross anything they couldn’t handle.

  * * * *

  “I’m telling you I heard something.” Duncan crouched lower, motioning his brother forward. Donnie had the rifle, after all. They’d been ready to pack it in after two hours, tired of plodding their way through knots of browning foxtails and bull thistle. Just as they’d started to head back, Duncan heard the noise. “Up ahead. A little farther.”

  He shuffled forward in a crab-crouch, adrenalin licking his veins. The noise had been weird. A snuffling sound, like a dog would make. Poor pets seemed to be the favorite target of the Mothman lately. At least, he was convinced the monster was responsible. The thing probably sucked their brains out, slurping the blood like syrup. No way did he want to trip over some mutt with its head half gone.

  The damn monster had to go.

  Over the summer, some tourist woman and her husband had snapped a partial photo of the creature. The Whitmores had been the toast of Point Pleasant for days. Reporters wanting to interview them, people fawning over them, buying them drinks and dinner. Hell, Eve Parrish even had a copy of the photo hanging in her hotel. She’d told them they could stay free any time they wanted. If some out-of-staters could snag that kind of fame with a shot that looked like a gray blob, he and Donnie would be kings if they killed the monster. Forget local stuff. They’d make world news, maybe even Johnny Carson. There’d be magazine covers, TV specials, lots of girls wanting their autographs.

  He smiled as he crept forward. His thighs burned from the strain of staying in a crouch, but the pain was worth the effort. He’d heard about the thing’s eyes—red like blood, able to pick up even a glimmer of movement. It was like a damn hawk. “You got that rifle loaded?”

  “Course it’s loaded.” Donnie sounded ticked. “What do you think I am? Some kind of halfwit?”

  “Shh.” Duncan made a cutting motion, slicing his hand through the air. “There it was again.” Coming to a standstill, he strained his ears to listen. “Did you hear it?”

  Donnie sucked on his lower lip
for several seconds before shaking his head. “I don’t hear anything. Probably just some squirrel in the underbrush.” Standing, he let the rifle hang lax at his side. “Let’s pack it in and grab some lunch. We can hit the River Café and get a beer.”

  “It’s going to see you.”

  “Hell, Duncan, there’s nothing out here. Caden Flynn would have been all over it if there was.”

  Caden had looked shaken when they’d found him outside the igloo, and he’d been covered in dirt. Maybe he’d stumbled across the monster and didn’t want to admit it had gotten the best of him. Running scared would look bad for a law enforcement officer. Not that he’d been running, but something had put him on edge.

  “Ten more minutes,” Duncan bartered, tugging the rifle from his brother’s grasp. If Donnie wasn’t going to take things seriously, he’d make sure the weapon got put to good use. “We know it’s out here. We saw it last June.”

  “And haven’t seen it since. I’m getting hungry. I need a burger.”

  Crack.

  The sudden sound broke the stillness on the tail of his words. Donnie immediately dropped into a crouch. “Shit. What was that?”

  Duncan’s heart thumped into overdrive. A shadow loomed over them, masking the sun. Inside his skull the noise of a thousand bees swarmed to life. “Ugh!” Dropping the rifle, he clamped his hands over his ears. At his side, Donnie crashed to his knees, grunting and panting, his face twisted in pain.

  The noise grew louder, joined by a battering wind. Blinking, Duncan raised his head, staring up into the sky. At first he saw nothing, just a gray blot of shadow. Then a form gradually took shape. A wing opened and expanded, blocking the trees and sky. The creature launched into the air, rising straight up like a helicopter. Duncan craned his neck, repulsed and terrified, compelled to look into its face.

  He screamed.

  Chapter 10

  Caden guessed Katie and Ryan were already with Jerome by the time he arrived at the hospital. A quick check-in with admissions revealed Jerome had been moved from ICU to a room on the fourth floor. Taking the elevator, he shared the ride with a young girl and her mother. The girl looked to be about seven years old. Clutching three foil balloons, each decorated with a bright yellow happy face, she was plainly fascinated by his soiled uniform and unkempt hair. He’d dusted the worst of the debris from his uniform before climbing into his patrol car, but still looked like he’d rolled around in a dirt pile.

  “Hi.” He tried to appear non-threatening.

  The woman tugged her daughter to the back, but had the decency to offer a wobbly smile. When the car pinged to a stop on the third floor, she hustled them off without as much as a backward glance. Caden rode the remainder of the way by himself, immediately snaring the attention of two nurses when he stepped from the elevator.

  “Sir? Sir?” The first called, rushing after him. “Do you need help?”

  “No, I’m fine.” He offered a reassuring grin. “Just dusty. Thanks for your concern.”

  Farther down the hall, he passed an orderly pushing an elderly man in a wheelchair.

  “Good afternoon, Sergeant,” the old man said. He might look a mess, but his uniform garnered respect.

  Caden returned his greeting, then rounded the corner toward Jerome’s room.

  “…didn’t mean to cause such an uproar.”

  He caught the tail end of Jerome’s words as he entered the room. The smell of antiseptic and clean laundry lingered in the air, mingled with a harsh medicinal odor. Sitting up in bed, Jerome looked pale but attentive, his thinning blond hair rumpled over his ears where the clear hose of an oxygen cannula was visible.

  “I keep telling everyone I feel fine.” Tentatively, he fingered the tube under his nose as if assuring himself it was still in place. For a skinny man and habitual smoker, the oxygen was probably a blessing on a normal day. His gaze shifted to Caden as he stepped to the side of the bed. “Caden. Oh man, you too.” The words carried a sliver of concern. “I hope I didn’t do something I don’t know about. Uh, not that I don’t appreciate you, Ryan, and Katie visiting. You, um…” He licked his lips nervously. “Look worse than I do.”

  “What happened to you?” Ryan asked with obvious concern.

  “I’ll tell you about it later.” Right now, all he wanted to do was trace Jerome’s connection to Parker Kline. “Jerome, do you remember Katie stopping to help you when your car went off the road?”

  “Yeah, I remember that.” Jerome’s brows drew together. “Can’t tell you why I went off, though. Maybe a deer?” A note of appeal lingered for them to fill in the blanks. “I kind of remember something out there on the road with me.” He rubbed a hand across his lips, mulling the idea over. “At least I thought there was.”

  “You were pretty disoriented when I found you.” Katie placed a hand on his arm with an encouraging smile. “I was worried about you.”

  “Thanks.” A hint of color rose to his cheeks. Abruptly awkward, he plucked at the blanket layered over his lap.

  Caden bit away a grin. The guy might be able to rattle off endless theory about aliens and UFOs, but grew self-conscious when accepting a compliment. Especially when that compliment came from a pretty girl.

  “When I left,” Katie continued, “you were with Deputy Brown. Do you remember him?”

  Jerome frowned. “That’s the weird thing. I only remember bits and pieces of that night and how I got here.” His scowl dug deeper. “I remember being afraid for some reason.”

  “What about cold?” Katie’s prompting was gentle, almost as if she feared upsetting him. “You kept saying you were cold.”

  “Cold.” Jerome repeated the word as if finding something familiar in the sound. For several seconds he didn’t speak, his eyes hooded, his gaze turned inward. Overhead the intercom warbled a page, asking Dr. Newton to report to radiology. Blinking rapidly, Jerome sat straighter. “That’s how he communicates. Over the airwaves.”

  Caden exchanged a glance with Ryan. “Who are you talking about?”

  “Indrid Cold.”

  Exhaling, Ryan webbed a hand over his face. “Not him again.”

  Jerome’s mouth dropped open. “You know about Cold?”

  “We know Parker Kline believes he communicated with someone named Indrid Cold.” Caden tried not to rush the conversation, but he was growing impatient, especially after his encounter with the being in the igloo. “You went to see Kline the night Katie found your car off the road.”

  “Yeah, I remember now.” Jerome’s voice lurched up an octave and he wriggled around on the bed, pressing his fists against the mattress to push higher on his pillows. “Katie, I gave you something that night. I tucked a piece of paper into your jacket pocket. Did you find it?”

  Her gaze flicked to Ryan.

  “Is this what you’re looking for?” He withdrew a white slip from his pocket.

  “What’s that?” Caden had heard nothing about the paper.

  “I’ll show you. There—grab the table.” Jerome motioned for the rollaway stand beside his bed. A box of tissues, plastic container for water, and a Styrofoam cup occupied the top. Someone had left a can of ginger ale and a pack of saltines, but both were unopened.

  Caden slid the table close to the bed, repositioning it so that the surface stretched across Jerome’s lap. Tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, Jerome flattened the paper on top, smoothing away the wrinkles with a swipe of his hand. “Thank God you still had it.”

  “What is it?” Caden stared down at a seemingly senseless jumble of numbers.

  “I didn’t have a chance to tell you about it.” Ryan stood behind Katie, looking over her shoulder while Jerome ran a skinny index finger through the chain of digits. “Katie found it last night. I was going to run it by Parker’s doctors but haven’t had a chance.”

  “You don’t need to run it by anyone.” Jerome’s finger paused on the third line, excitement creeping into his voice. “Here. This is it.�
��

  Caden leaned closer. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Give me a pen. And a notepad.”

  Ryan beat him to it, pulling the small tablet he used for taking notes from his jacket pocket.

  “Parker gave me this,” Jerome explained, without looking up. “I learned about what happened to him at Hank Jeffries’ place. That’s why I went to see him at West Central. After Hank killed Tim, Parker raced back to their truck.”

  Caden winced. “I know that.” To get their dad’s gun.

  “Parker was going for help,” Jerome said. “But he saw something on the way to the truck that changed everything. It changed him.”

  Squashing a spike of anger, Caden paced a short distance away. “I was there, Jerome.”

  “I know. Parker told me everything that happened. Cold was there too.”

  Ryan’s brows crawled into the fringe of his bangs. “Indrid Cold? The guy from Lanulos?”

  Jerome nodded. He plunked his finger onto the paper. “And this is when he’s coming back.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” There was no disguising the irritation in Caden’s voice as he stalked back to the bed. So much for not upsetting the hospital patient. “Are you trying to say that muddle of numbers means something?”

  “It isn’t a muddle. It’s noise.”

  Standing beside Ryan, Katie flinched.

  “The cluster is intended as a distraction from the hidden message. If you look closely, you’ll notice all the digits repeat in sequence, one through zero. Then they begin dropping off. Two through zero, three through zero and so on. Eventually, the sequence starts over again. But the figures in the middle of the third line don’t follow the same pattern.”

  Jerome pointed out the line, and Caden craned his neck to see.

  99006677889900103123415677889900889900

  It still looked like a clutter of nothing. “I don’t see—”

  Jerome circled a handful of numbers in the center and read them aloud. “1031234156. These don’t follow the structure of the others.”