by Hamill, Ike
“I don’t see Ted,” Robby said as he dropped down from the back of the trailer. He tried to land light on his feet, but he sunk down to his knees. Nate helped pull him out of snow.
“He radioed that he was going to stay in his cab—you didn’t hear?" Nate asked.
“Nope, but I left pretty quick to put on my snowshoes.”
“I don’t know if those things help or hurt. I’ve never had much use for them,” Nate said. “Pete’s the exception. He moves like a goddamn gazelle on those things.”
Robby nodded. He collected his own snowshoes from the back of the trailer and debated whether he should put them back on. Instead, he decided to use his break wisely and he moved a few paces away from Nate and turned his back. As he urinated in the snow, he heard Pete and Nate greet each other.
“Hey,” Pete said.
“Pete,” Nate said.
“Any problems with the rig?”
“Nope.”
“How ‘bout you, Robby?”
“No problems, Pete,” Robby said, walking back to the two men.
“If either of you see any change in engine temp, let me know right away,” Pete said.
“You expecting any?" Nate asked.
“Always expect problems and you’ll never be surprised by them,” Pete said.
“Fair enough,” Nate said.
Pete walked over to the other side of the trailer and looked up and down the highway. “Who’s with Brynn?” he asked.
“Nobody,” Robby said.
“Jesus,” Pete said. “I thought we decided we should always stick together when we’re not in the tractors?”
“He’s right over there, I’m sure,” Nate said, pointing in the direction of Brynn’s footprints.
“That’s what we thought about Brad,” Pete said. “Fuck.” He shuffled off, following the tracks.
“Wait, Pete!” called Robby. “Brynn needs privacy.”
“I’m not going to watch or anything,” Pete called back over his shoulder.
Brynn was spared embarrassment. He crested the snow bank before Pete got there. Pete waited for Brynn to catch up and then the two came back to Robby’s tractor together.
“There’s an overpass just north of here,” Nate said. “Do we have a plan? Just go under, like the last one?”
“Nope,” Pete said, shaking his head. “Brad told us the snow was right up to the structure. I figure we’ll have to find a way around.”
“He also said he found a thick crust from Falmouth north,” Robby said.
“On a snowmobile, it might have seemed thick,” Nate said.
“We’re making terrible time,” Pete said. “We’re not going to make Kingston Depot before sunset.”
“I say we hole up in Freeport,” Pete said. “Brad said we can get into the L.L. Bean. We’ll follow his tracks there if we can and stay the night.”
Robby bowed his head and considered his plan for several moments.
“Probably worth checking out,” Nate said.
Brynn shed his snowshoes and climbed on top of the snowmobile lashed to the trailer. He turned the handlebars back and forth, grinding the skis on the deck of the trailer. Pete, leaning back against the edge of the trailer, reached back and stilled the skis. Brynn let go and stood up on the seat.
“Women coming back,” Brynn said.
“Wave them over here,” Pete said, turning his head to address Brynn.
Just as Romie, Lisa, and Sheila rounded the corner of the sled, Robby looked up from his concentration.
“I’m a little wary of following Brad’s path,” Robby said. “But as long as we’re cautious…”
“What are we talking about?" Lisa asked.
“Let’s go back and run it by Ted,” Pete said. “So we don’t have to repeat ourselves.”
✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪
EVERYTHING TOOK LONGER than they thought—navigating around overpasses, refueling, crossing the river. Even following Brad’s snowmobile tracks was a chore. In some places the wind scoured all tracks and left an icy flat plain. In others it looked like the tracks were only hours old.
They used the GPS to get close, but in the end the sunset reflecting off of jagged glass led them to the spot where Brad had broken into L.L. Bean’s retail headquarters. With the line of tractors and trailers parked at a safe distance, Pete poked around in the snow with a ski pole and found a row of shattered windows. He pointed his flashlight inside and found the top-floor offices of the retail store. He waved everyone over and they climbed inside as a group.
Between headlights and handheld flashlights, more than a dozen beams cut through the entombed office.
“Jesus,” Lisa said. “Why didn’t Brad just turn around and leave?”
“He was cold, and this was the first he’d seen of civilization since leaving his house,” Ted said.
“I bet they sell heaters downstairs,” Pete said. “Let’s go get one going.” He motioned to Ted and they headed towards the door next to the elevator.
Lisa turned back to the windows, where Robby was still looking at the snow drifted in through the broken panes.
“Why would Brad break so many windows getting in here?” Lisa asked.
“He only broken one getting in. This one,” Robby said. He pointed his light towards the floor where it glittered off shards of glass. “These windows were all broken outwards. That’s why we found the glass on the snow out there.”
Robby led Lisa back to the rest of the group, who followed Pete over to the stairwell door.
Ted picked up a fire extinguisher from the carpet. “He used this to wedge the door open,” Ted stated.
“I’ll do him one better,” Pete said. He produced a screwdriver and hammer from somewhere inside his coat. He popped the hinge pins from the door in seconds and then opened the door halfway before pulling it off and setting it on its side.
“Take it easy, Pete,” Romie said. “What did that door ever do to you?”
“Better safe than sorry,” Sheila said.
“Always expect problems, and you’ll always find them,” Nate said.
Pete whipped his head around and shot his light in Nate’s face until Nate raised his hand to shield his eyes.
“Let’s go,” Ted said.
“We could just stay here,” Lisa said. “Camp in the corner and then head out in the morning. Why do we have to go deeper into this tomb?”
“Supplies, heat, snacks,” Pete said.
“What do you think, Robby?” Lisa asked.
“I don’t see a reason not to,” Robby said.
Pete turned the beam of his flashlight down the stairs and led the way. As they descended the flights to the bottom, they mostly focused their beams on the snow packed against the windows. One whole side of the staircase was floor-to-ceiling windows, and the snow layers varied in color and consistency. At the bottom landing, Sheila ran her gloved hand down the glass where some of the layers of snow looked brown and black.
“All that snow out there,” Sheila said. “If this glass breaks we really are buried.”
“There are other ways out of here,” Pete said. “But if the glass hasn’t broken yet, it’s not going to in the next few hours. I’m going to set up camp.”
They turned the last corner to the door. The bottom corner of the thick, metal door was peeled back, exposing a hole so big that Robby could fit through it. Ted kneeled down and pointed his light at the hole. Lisa crouched next to him and the two looked through.
“What would bend a door?" Lisa asked.
Pete reached forward and turned the handle. It turned smoothly. He let go and let the door latch again without opening it. He scanned his light around the seams of the door. Aside from the corner bent out of shape, the door looked to be in perfect condition—nothing to indicate it had endured any stress.
Pete reached for the handle again and gripped it before Sheila stopped him.
“We’re not going in there,” she stated.
“Why not?" Pete asked.
>
“There’s something in there that can tear open doors, that’s why,” Sheila said.
“No, that’s not necessarily true,” Pete said. “Whatever was in there, looks like it left. If anything, it might be dangerous to be anywhere except in there.”
“You can’t believe that,” Sheila said. “Where would it have gone? Is there anywhere for it to go? No, it must have come into this stairwell and then returned back through this hole. It’s just not safe.”
“It really could be anywhere,” Nate said. “The whole world is currently full of scary shit, you can’t exactly live your life trying to stay away from it.”
Brynn moved over next to Ted and touched the twisted metal. Just below the handle, a thick crease marked the start of the bend. Below that, the door looked almost like crumpled paper or a dog-eared page that someone tried to smooth flat. Even where it was bent, it hadn’t been compressed at all.
“Careful, Brynn,” Lisa said.
Ted continued to shine his light through the gap into the retail store.
“I’m going in,” Pete said.
“Right behind you,” Nate said.
“Stop trying to help me,” Pete said.
Nate threw his hands up in an exaggerated shrug and backed away from Pete.
“What do you think, Robby? This trip was your idea,” Sheila said.
The stairwell seemed to shrink as everyone’s headlamps and flashlights turned to Robby. He stood in the center of the group, looking down towards the bent door. He swiveled his head and looked back up the stairs.
“I think we should look for a place to settle in for the night. We’re no safer out in the tractors. We can at least take shifts here and watch over each other,” Robby said.
“Watch for what?" Sheila asked. “And if people start being snatched into nothingness, or if our eyes explode down our face, what then? None of you have been assaulted by one of those things. I almost lost my leg.”
Romie came from the back of the group. She pushed past the others, stepped around Ted who still crouched next to the door, and grabbed the handle of the mangled door. “They’re right, Sheila. Bad stuff could happen anywhere. Let’s find a place to get reasonably comfortable for the night.”
Romie opened the door and held it open. Ted and Lisa moved through first, followed by Pete and Nate.
Brynn held out a hand to Sheila. The two moved through the doorway together with Robby close behind. Romie brought up the rear and let the door swing shut behind her. She tested the handle and pushed it open an inch to verify that the door wasn’t locked.
“Where to?" Romie asked.
“The camping section is over this way,” Pete said, pointing his light to the right. “We can find some air mattresses and sleeping bags over there. Jackets, and snacks, and everything else are back that way.”
“Let’s stick together,” Sheila said.
“Okay,” Pete said. “Then let’s do a quick sweep through the whole place and then come back to camping?”
“Good,” Romie said. “Everyone stay in sight of the group.”
They moved through the hunting section of the store. It was decorated to look like a log cabin lodge. The group passed a big stairway flanked by railings made of rough-hewn timbers, varnished to a high shine. Ted pulled off his outer jacket and replaced it with a warm game-jacket, replete with hidden zippered pockets. Nate pulled a crossbow down from a display and loaded it as they walked. Brynn ran a light hand over every garment they passed, but didn’t grab anything. Their lights swept beams around the big space as they moved towards a smaller hallway which led to the rest of the store. Here, a rack of canoes lined one wall next to a display of fake trees.
“Wait,” Ted said. His lights focused on one of the tree branches. “I thought they had a bunch of stuffed animals on display around here.”
“They used to,” Nate said.
“So where are they?" Ted asked.
From up ahead, Pete called back—“Watch your step up here. There’s ice.”
The group shuffled forward. Ted reluctantly swung his lights away from the tree branch and followed the others. Pete stood vigil at the beginning of the icy stretch of hallway. Lisa moved cautiously out onto the ice. It stood about an inch thick at the edge and got a little thicker as she moved farther down the hall. The ice was so pure—with no air bubbles or cracks—it was nearly invisible against the tile floor. Nate pulled glow sticks from a pocket and snapped them as he walked, dropping them every few paces. They lit up his feet and legs with an eerie, green light.
“It’s from the fish tank,” Nate called back. Most of the group shuffled one foot at a time across the ice, but Pete walked with confidence. About halfway down the hall, they saw what Nate discovered. The giant aquarium built into the wall had shattered, spilling its contents to the floor.
Shards of two-inch thick acrylic, like transparent shark’s teeth, jutted from the bottom edge of the aquarium. The surface was shattered the whole length of the tank. Pieces were lost beneath the ice under their feet, but the group could see the glittering edges of acrylic triangles lit up by Nate’s glow sticks.
“Look at this,” Nate said. He straddled something frozen in the ice, pointing his light straight down.
Robby and Pete reached him first. Nate had found a fish—a long trout with a gaping mouth—lying on the floor under a layer of ice. The head and tail were intact, but the side of the fish was stripped away, revealing bones and gore.
“How did this happen?" Pete asked.
“C’mon, Pete. You know what it looks like, don’t you?" Nate asked.
“Yes, I know what it looks like, it looks like a bear got at it,” Pete said.
“Gross,” Lisa said, joining them at the fish.
“But I don’t think there are a lot of bear around here,” Pete continued. “It must have been cannibalized, or injured itself on the glass?”
“Are there any more?" Nate asked.
“Yeah,” Robby said. He wandered a short distance from the trio. “Some heads and other pieces scattered around.”
“Come on, Brynn. Let’s keep moving,” Sheila said. She led the child away from the broken tank. Brynn climbed under a ledge to poke his head up through a glass-encased bubble under the tank.
Everyone else took the prompt and reassembled to continue their shuffle across the ice.
“What could have broken the glass?” Lisa wondered.
“It’s not glass, it’s a transparent acrylic thermoplastic,” Romie said, “and it’s very strong.”
“So what could have done it?" Lisa asked.
“Nothing I know of would make it shatter,” Romie said.
“Doesn’t it get brittle in the cold?" Pete asked.
“Nope,” Romie said. “It gets soft when heated, but cold doesn’t affect it at all.”
“Another mystery to add to the pile of mysteries,” Nate said.
Ted surprised them all when he spoke again—“No ice over here.”
He’d moved onto the carpet in shoe section. The lip at the edge of the carpeted area was enough to dam the water. The rest of the group moved towards Ted’s position.
“Let’s sweep the rest of this floor, move to the lower level, and then we can take the front…” Pete began.
“Shhh!” Ted said, raising a hand. The group fell silent, not even daring to breathe. Ted pointed his flashlight over towards the registers. He cocked his head and swept his light in tiny arcs, surveying all the dark corners his beam could reach.
After they’d held silent for almost a minute, Pete spoke—“What did you see?”
“I heard something moving,” Ted said.
“That’s it,” Sheila said. “Back across the fish. Let’s get out of here.”
Pete frowned.
“Come on, let’s see what it is,” Nate said. He moved in the direction of Ted’s beam.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Portland, Maine - WINTER
BRAD WOKE IN the dark with his head pressed a
gainst a cold floor. A thin band of light coming under a door was the only thing he could see. His hands and feet were trussed behind his back, stretching his body into an uncomfortable backbend and tugging at his shoulders. He wriggled on the tiles, trying to free up a little slack on the ropes.
He heard footsteps echo in an open space on the other side of the door and a shadow of moving legs passed through the band of light. Brad held his breath and listened. The steps stopped and he heard a man’s voice murmur. It was cut off by another man. The second man spoke louder, but Brad still couldn’t make out any of the words.
The door swung open and Brad saw a huge body step into the light streaming through the door. Brad blinked and tried to make out the backlit face.
“Where’d your friends take the little boy?” the figure asked. The voice was deep and scratchy, like the man gargled with steel wool. Brad thought he heard a slight accent, too. Something about the way “little” contracted into “li’l.”
Brad began to answer, but it felt like his mouth was glued shut. He ran his tongue around his dry teeth until he could speak—“What friends? What boy?”
The giant man approached and knelt down, and Brad was finally able to see his face. The man was older, or perhaps just well-worn, and he smiled a kind, gentle smile. Clean, silver locks of hair framed his face and cascaded down to his shoulders. He still wore the black Chuck Taylors with bright green laces. The light stubble on his cheeks made him look a little neglected, but not pathetic, exactly. His eyes were complemented by deep wrinkles which seemed to smile.
“Don’t fuck with me, asshole,” the man said. With only the light coming in through the open door, Brad could barely see, but the man’s green eyes seemed to twinkle as he cursed at Brad.
“I don’t know what you’re…” Brad started. The old man’s hand shot out and he backhanded his knuckles against Brad’s temple. The hit wasn’t hard, but when Brad jerked away he banged his head against the hard floor.