Whiteout (Book 3): The Numbing

by Maxwell, Flint

  Mia was okay for now, a little shaken by the whole situation—we all were—but how much longer would she be okay? If we reached one of these Cities, found other people, hopefully doctors and nurses and soldiers who could protect and heal us, and if we got behind the safety of strong walls and into the warmth of honest-to-God heat (and not from bucket fires), I thought Mia and her baby had a chance.

  If we didn’t get there before Mia went into labor…

  Well, I didn’t really want to think about that too much.

  The stay in the Woodhaven Motel lasted longer than we wanted. Three days this time. It would’ve lasted more had something else not happened.

  On our final night there, I swapped watch shifts with Stone, who was basically a zombie at that point, and knowing sleep wasn’t going to come again, I told him I’d do a double.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, man. Get some sleep.”

  Stone arched an eyebrow. “All right, Grady, but if you start feeling sleepy, let me know. I don’t want another werewolf situation.”

  I winked, and he lay down. He was asleep within minutes. Watch was usually pretty boring. A lot of listening to the wind, or if the wraiths were around, a lot of listening to your dead loved ones. Luckily, it was just the wind tonight.

  An hour passed.

  Another one.

  I did the rounds and checked that the candles were still burning, then got a drink from a semi-frozen bottle of water. My mouth was so dry. The cold felt nice against my chapped lips, and even better as it flowed down my throat.

  Half of it was gone by the time I screwed the cap back on and bent down to put it back in the bag with the others. As I rose, my knees popping, I focused on the brown curtains draped over the single small window in the room.

  Our options for a barricade were slim, so we'd settled on the ironing boards in this room. Mikey and I had braced them with the weight of the nightstands. For as ugly and beat-up as the wood was, they must’ve weighed close to a hundred pounds.

  It didn’t really matter because the weight of the barricade wasn’t the issue, as we had learned in the recent past with Mia. The wraiths could get in if they wanted to, but first they somehow got in our heads to control us, and while we were under their spell, we might as well have saved some time, opened the door, and invited them in for dinner and drinks.

  Those dark whispers had invaded both Mikey and Eleanor’s minds. Neither had spoken about it in too great of detail, and I didn’t blame them for that, but I still remembered how, not so long ago, I had woken up to Ell standing over Helga’s kitchen sink, her fingers bloody from prying the plywood off the window. The soot-black fingers of a wraith had wormed their way inside; then, after I burned the thing to ash, the power cut off completely. Mikey had struck the generator with an axe—not on his own free will, but because the wraiths told him to. Just as they could’ve done to us at any moment in the motel. Add to those instances how Mia had opened the window two days ago and we almost perished at the claws of a werewolf, and sleep wasn’t so enticing.

  It seemed to only happen while we were sleeping, so as long as one of us kept watch, the hypnotizing was preventable. I hated how we had to keep watch when it was dark. I just wanted the light again. The normal light.

  I kept my eyes on the ironing board up against those ugly curtains, wondering how much longer we had to wait until the sun rose.

  The sun’s “rising” never happened all at once, as was the case before the end of the world. Nowadays, when that began, you could see the black clouds going a few shades lighter. The edges of the sky would look singed, and sometimes those clouds might even part and you could see the filtered rays shining down on the endless snow. These sights, they gave even the most hopeless person hope.

  I needed hope right then. I needed it so badly that I reached for the curtains, knowing damn well there might be something out there I didn’t want to see.

  Before I touched the rough material, a hand floated out of the darkness on my left. My stomach dropped, and if I hadn’t been struck dumb with terror, I might’ve screamed.

  What zipped through my head at that moment was that one of the wraiths had somehow gotten in again without me knowing—maybe I had been unknowingly hypnotized—and that ghostly hand meant to touch me on the forehead. It would leave a black mark between my eyes like the ones I’d seen on the others who’d gone crazy.

  The hand didn’t touch me. Instead, it grabbed the curtain. It wasn’t a wraith or a werewolf or even frigging whale.

  It was Mikey.

  He leaned forward, pressing his face against the glass to look through the small opening.

  I almost laughed with relief. My knees felt so weak, I would’ve involuntarily sat down on the bed if Ell hadn’t been sound asleep there.

  “What were you doing? What’s out there?” Mikey whispered.

  He’d been on edge since his mishap, barely sleeping, constantly looking over his shoulder. Doing the latter even more than usual, I mean. His mishap no longer angered me now that I knew everyone was okay. In fact, I didn’t discount the possibility that he’d been hypnotized. Sure, it seemed to happen when we were asleep, but the truth is we didn’t know the rules of these supernatural beasts—if they even had rules.

  I smiled uneasily. “Nothing but the sun, I hope.”

  Leaning forward again, Mikey peered out of the window. He pulled back and shook his head. “Not completely, but it’s coming. Probably another hour before it’s safe to get moving.”

  “Good. Let the others sleep. They need it.”

  “Yeah,” Mikey agreed. “But are you okay, man? You were just staring at the wall.”

  “I’m good. Steeling myself, I guess.” I figured I might as well be honest. “I wasn’t ready to look yet. All the snow…I know it’s there, but sometimes my mind convinces itself it’s a dream or something, when in fact it’s sunny and beautiful, the way it’s supposed to be. Opening the curtains and seeing the truth would shatter that.”

  Mikey blinked slowly a few times. “Wow.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “No…you just explained exactly how I feel,” Mikey said. “I’ve never been too good at putting my thoughts into words, but yeah, it’s like Schrödinger’s cat or whatever.”

  I’d heard the term before, but as to its meaning, I was clueless.

  I shrugged and said, “Science?”

  Mikey rocked his head back and forth. “Kinda. It’s a thought experiment, but the original idea came from Einstein. I learned about it in a philosophy class, actually. Basically, there’s a cat in a sealed box with some radioactive shit or something that could kill it. As long as the box stays sealed, the cat can be alive or dead, but if you open the box, you would know whether it’s dead or alive.”

  “So with the lid on, it’s both?”

  “Exactly. And if you open the box and it’s dead, you pretty much killed it. Something like that. I don’t know, I’m probably butchering it.”

  “The cat or the explanation?”

  Mikey chuckled and quickly covered his mouth as he glanced at Ell on the bed and Stone on the floor, but neither of them stirred. “The explanation,” Mikey answered. “It’s been a long ass time since I learned about it. I like that kind of stuff a lot more than I liked English and Composition or whatever the fuck.” He smiled absently. “Guess that’s one of the positives of the world ending.”

  I cocked an eyebrow.

  “It means I’ll never have to read another stuffy old book and write essays on it. School's out forever, man.”

  “A lot of things are.”

  Me, I liked English class. Some of the books we were forced to read weren’t very fun or exciting, sure, but without those classes I would’ve never read To Kill a Mockingbird or Frankenstein, and those are two of my favorite books of all time. I didn’t even struggle to write essays about them either. Problem is, for every Mockingbird or Frankenstein, there’s a Scarlet Letter, Catcher in the Rye, and something by Shakes
peare. All works of art I can respect, but not ones that particularly ensnared my imagination.

  “Mikey,” I said as we stood there in silence, “you should go back to bed. Catch some z’s while you still can.”

  “I could try. You should too, man. Let me redeem myself for the other night. You never sleep—”

  A distant voice cut him off. Both Mikey and I turned in the direction of the window. We stared at those shit-brown curtains for a long time, it seemed. My ears strained for the noise again, because I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination or not.

  “So you heard that too?” Mikey asked.

  “Yeah. Sounded like someone screaming.”

  “The wraiths?”

  This time, I peered out from between the curtains. The snow stretched on endlessly, per usual, and the sky had taken on its rare singed hue, a sign the sun would soon make an appearance, but I saw no one. “Can’t be the wraiths. They couldn’t survive in that light, not when a tiny candle is enough to send them fleeing.”

  The sound came again, and this time, it reached us louder and clearer. It was a man’s voice, screaming, as if in great pain.

  Then we heard, “Heeeeeeelllppp!” and that confirmed it.

  4

  The Man

  Mikey lunged for the door, but I snagged his arm before he could grab the handle.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going out there.”

  “No, you’re not,” I hissed, still unconscious of the others sleeping only a few feet away. In retrospect, we were being loud as hell and they should’ve woken up, but the exhaustion we all had felt at this point in our journey must’ve been too much, even with the wraith attack so fresh in our minds. “Whatever that was out there, it could be a trap…or worse.”

  I wasn’t sure what I meant when I said it could’ve been worse than a trap, but I knew I didn’t want to find out. I didn’t want Mikey to find out either. Deep down, something inside told me the noise wasn’t made by a wraith; but the same thing telling me that also told me it wasn’t our friend.

  Chewy came trotting out of the adjoining bedroom, looking at us curiously. I thought he might’ve been a little on edge after the last time he bolted in here and saved us all from getting our guts torn out by a werewolf.

  Mikey raised a hand, and the dog stopped by the bathroom door. “Stay there, boy.”

  “You both stay here,” I said. “All of us stay here.”

  “Did you not hear what I heard, Grady? That guy’s in pain. We gotta help him. We don’t even know how many people are left on the planet anymore. Every life mattered before the snow, but they especially matter now!”

  I’ll give Mikey this: his heart was certainly in the right place. Only…what our hearts tell us sometimes spit in the face of logic.

  Mikey wasn’t a strong kid. Tall, yes, but not strong. The harsh conditions over the last couple of months had eaten away what little muscle he had to begin with. I should’ve easily been able to hold him in place, stop him from plunging out into the cold sea of snow, but he jerked away. I stumbled backwards, losing my balance, and when I tried regaining it by finding purchase on the floor, I hit Stone’s sprawled legs instead.

  The whole thing was anything but graceful. Trying to dance around my best friend’s already damaged legs didn’t help my cause either, and the next thing I knew, I was falling. Mostly on Stone. The Woodhaven Motel’s squeamish yellow carpet wasn’t much for padding, and the hit knocked the air from my lungs in a heavy whoosh. If you heard me wheezing, you might have thought I had terrible asthma. I sounded like a chain smoker after trying to run a marathon.

  Stone shot up and yelled in a sleep-heavy voice, “Yo, what the fuck?”

  I was barely paying attention, too busy trying to get untangled from his blankets and get back on my feet. “Not a werewolf,” I said absentmindedly, feeling him looking at me as I inhaled and exhaled short breaths.

  “Grady? What’d I tell you about sneaking in bed with me while I’m sleeping? It’s a little…weird. And you have to buy me a drink first or—”

  The outside door swung open. A great gust of freezing wind blew my hair from my brow and snatched away the bit of air I’d gotten back into my lungs. Mikey plunged out into the white. I’m not sure if he closed the door behind him or if the terrible wind caught hold of it and slammed it shut. Whatever the case, it woke Ell and Mia and set Chewy off on a barking tirade.

  Ell screamed, nearly falling out of bed. She looked at me first, but I saw her eyes flick over to the candles, all but a few of which were still lit.

  “What’s going on? What—what’s happening?”

  She scrambled to a sitting position and pulled the covers all the way up to her nose, so just the top half of her face and her reddish hair were visible.

  In that moment she looked like a frightened child hiding from a boogeyman who was glaring at her with hungry eyes through the crack in the closet door. Seeing her like that stung, but the pain was a far cry to what Ell would feel once she found out her little brother, her last surviving family member, had sprinted into the snow like an insane person.

  “Was that Mikey?” Stone asked incredulously. “Did Mikey just—”

  “Mikey?” Ell gasped. “What is he talking about?”

  I told them what happened while I threw on more layers of clothes.

  Mia waddled into the room, her sweaty hair plastered to her forehead, shouting, “It wasn’t me!”

  “I know,” I said. “Everyone just stay here. I’ll go get him.”

  Chewy was barking like crazy, pacing around the room. I could barely think.

  “Who the fuck is out there yelling in this?” Stone asked.

  Eleanor got out of the bed as Mia took her spot. She patted the torn mattress, and Chewy hopped up and rested against the swell of her belly. A few strokes later, his barking stopped, but the fear and uncertainty stayed in his bulging eyes.

  “Mikey went to go help someone in the snow,” I told Mia, who’d missed the explanation, as I bent down and cinched the knots on my boots tighter. A pair of snowshoes would’ve made me feel better about heading out, but the longer I messed around, the farther from the motel Mikey got, which meant we’d both be exposed to the freezing temperatures and whatever else lurked in the semi-darkness for longer than I intended.

  Mia gasped. “What?” Her free hand covered her open mouth. Moisture welled in her eyes; I didn’t think this was from still being sleepy either.

  “Mikey lost his shit and decided to run out in the snow,” Stone repeated for me. “He’s trying to be a hero, but he’s too young to know only dumbasses are heroes. And I’d bet my right nut that whatever screamed ain’t human.”

  Now off the bed and shrugging into another coat, Eleanor visibly winced as Stone’s words registered. I ground my teeth. Shit, I was losing my cool. That wasn’t something that happened to me often. Seeing Eleanor react as if the words were punches and slaps instead of sounds took me over the edge, and I couldn’t help myself.

  I turned to my best friend and shouted, “Stone, shut the hell up!” My voice shattered the air, made Chewy whimper and Mia jump. Even Ell was looking at me like I was a completely different person. The regret hit soon after, and I wished I hadn’t shouted.

  I don’t lash out; it’s not my thing. I’m a cool, calm type of dude—even under extreme circumstances such as these—but I had slipped up.

  Stone looked at me and said, “Sorry, dude. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  I apologized too.

  “Uh, hello?” Ell said. “What about my little brother?” She was zipping her second jacket up.

  “Right,” I said, reaching into the bag at the foot of the bed and grabbing a can of Off! and one of the lighters. Ell squeezed in next to me and grabbed her own. “Ell…no. Just stay here.”

  “Grady.”

  I sighed. “I know. I can’t stop you, but he’s gonna be okay. I’m gonna bring him right back.”

  Stone cleared his thro
at. “I’ll stay behind, y’know, to protect Mia and Chewy.”

  Rolling her eyes, Mia said, “More like the other way around, dude.”

  Just as I was about to ask Eleanor if she was ready, she pushed past me and through the door.

  The outside world was a nightmare despite the budding light behind the pressing black clouds. The haze hung heavily in the air. I could just make out the distant gazebo, its shape, but that was all. The words written on its roof were gone, buried by the falling snow.

  Eleanor was over the sloping mound just outside the motel door, and I rushed to catch up with her. As I sank and settled on the frozen layer, the snow reached below my waist.

  “Wait!” I called to Ell, who was still trucking ahead. The wind snatched my voice; I doubted she heard me. If she had, I doubted she would’ve slowed down.

  I quickened my pace even though moving was nearly impossible already. It was like running through quicksand but worse. No matter how many layers I wore, no matter how zipped up and closed off I was from the elements, the snow found a way to get inside my clothes, and once it touched my skin, I felt the nerves there dying.

  I caught up to Eleanor after much struggle . Her head was down against the blowing wind. The flakes didn’t so much as fall now as they pummeled us from the east. It was like constantly getting hit by a stream of throwing darts.

  “There!” Ell shouted as we passed the gazebo. She pointed between two snow-covered buildings. One was long and narrow, a sign on its facade a faded green, probably lit up once upon a time. I couldn’t make out the words. The other building was a small cube like the insurance place we’d stayed at before coming to Woodhaven. In the alleyway were two figures. One stood over the other. I recognized the one standing as Mikey.

  “Michael!” Ell shouted, trudging through the snow.

  I held the can of bug spray and the lighter in my numbed hands, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to flick the wheel and get a flame when the time came.