Frostbitten: The Complete Series

by Bera, Ilia

  The door opened.

  “Hello?” Their saviour was a woman in her mid-forties. She was a pretty woman, with a kind face. She was dressed in pyjamas, but her hair and makeup were still neat.

  “Hello miss,” Kane said, covering his ears with his painfully bare hands. “We’re having car problems. Is there any chance we can use your phone?”

  “Come in! It’s too cold out,” the woman said, stepping aside for the boys.

  Kane and Tanner entered the warm house: A beautiful family home, open-concept, with comfortable-looking furniture, tall natural-wooden beams, pictures of family, and a cozy wood-burning fireplace, surrounded by beautiful river rock. A child’s toys were scattered throughout the whole open space: Dolls, Legos, and pieces of an EZ-Bake Oven set.

  “I’m sorry it’s such a mess in here,” the woman said.

  “It’s not—not at all,” Kane said, smiling.

  “I’m afraid the phone lines are down,” the woman said—Kane already knew. “I’ve been waiting for the lines to open myself.”

  “Oh,” Kane said. “Our car is burnt out. I don’t think it could go another mile, not in this snow,” he said. “Do you know if there’s a motel or something nearby—maybe we could walk.”

  “Don’t be silly. There’s nothing around for miles. Besides, you’d be crazy to walk in this weather. Worse than crazy, you’d be dead!”

  Tanner looked around the house. He’d never seen anything like it; It looked so happy—a quality he’d never seen in a home.

  “I don’t know when the lines will be back up, but you’re welcome to stay here until they are. Might be a few hours, might be all night. By the looks of it, I’d say you’re in for the whole night.”

  “We wouldn’t want to impose,” Kane said.

  “It’s nothing. As a matter of fact, you both look hungry. I have some leftover stew I was about to stick in the freezer—you’re both welcome to some.”

  Kane looked at Tanner. “Really, Miss. We don’t want to impose on your family.”

  “Oh—shush already,” the woman said. “Come have a bite to eat. You aren’t going anywhere until this storm is through.”

  The woman asked no questions. She was kind, and welcoming. She sat Kane and Tanner down at a homey hand-carved wooden table and made sure they were both well fed. Kane ate modestly and politely. Tanner ate like a starving dog. With his head down, he ate three whole bowls of the delicious, warm stew. He would have eaten more, but he cleaned out the remainder of the pot.

  “Oh my,” the woman said when she noticed Tanner’s third empty bowl. “If you’re still hungry, there’s some leftover pot-pie in the fridge I could heat it up.”

  Tanner looked over at Kane. He still hadn’t spoken a word since the two walked into the house.

  “He’s fine,” Kane said. “He just really loves a good stew. Thank you so much for the food.”

  “Really—Don’t mention it,” the woman replied. “I don’t think I caught your names.”

  “William,” Kane said with a smile.

  The woman looked over at Tanner, and Tanner to Kane.

  “Carl,” Tanner said.

  “William and Carl,” the woman repeated, committing the names to her memory. “My name is Paige.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Paige.”

  Paige smiled. “You both look so young—too young to be out driving, especially on a night like tonight.”

  “We get that a lot.” He laughed. “People always tell me I’ll be happy when I’m older.”

  “How old are you? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Eighteen,” Kane lied, adding three years onto his real age.

  “Wow,” Paige said. “Oh my—Where are my manners? You must be freezing in those wet clothes. Let me get you some of my husband’s clothes. I’ll throw yours in the wash.”

  “That’s really not necessary,” Kane said.

  “No, please—I insist.” Paige turned around and walked up the stairs towards her bedroom to retrieve some clothes for the boys.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Tanner said.

  “Why?” Kane said.

  “I don’t like this. She knows. She’s setting us up,”

  “You’re being paranoid. She doesn’t know anything.”

  “She’s being too nice. Something is up. No one is this nice.”

  “She’s a nice lady. Some people are nice,” Kane said.

  “Not this nice,” Tanner said.

  Tanner’s pupils were as wide as a frightened feral cat’s. It was sad—Tanner’s unfortunate life led him to believe that no one should be trusted, that everyone had some sort of sinister agenda. The poor kid couldn’t believe that people could be nice; he didn’t believe that altruism was a real quality.

  Paige walked back down the stairs with a stack of clothes. “They might be a bit big on you guys,” Paige said. “But at least you’ll be comfortable for the night.”

  “Thank you,” Kane said, accepting the stack of clothes from the lovely woman. “Your husband—Is he home?” Kane asked.

  “No. He should be home soon though. He might be stuck at work because of the snow. It happens from time to time. You know how it is out here.”

  Kane smiled as he scanned the beautiful home again. “And your kids?” he asked.

  “I have a daughter—a five-year-old. She’s upstairs sleeping.”

  “We’ll be sure to stay extra quiet,” Kane said.

  “Don’t worry about her. She’ll sleep through a hurricane.” Paige smiled as she walked towards the window. “I’ll toss your stuff into the wash. We have a guest room that’s all set up—if you don’t mind sharing a bed.”

  “Oh—I don’t—”

  “—Ah,” Paige interrupted as she looked back outside at the whiteout. “Again, I insist. This storm hasn’t let up even a little bit. Doesn’t look like it will until morning.”

  Paige showed the boys to the guest room. “There’s a bathroom here, and another one down the hall. You’re welcome to use either—feel free to take a shower. There are plenty of clean towels.”

  Paige’s unrelenting kindness was eating away at Tanner’s psyche. There were two possible scenarios in his mind: Either Paige was conspiring against him, or Paige was a legitimately kind mother, the kind of mother he never had.

  The little guest room had a little en-suite bathroom, with a little sink and a little shower.

  Tanner sat on the edge of the comfortable guest bed, staring at a blank wall as he relived the gas station crime over and over again.

  “You should take a shower,” Kane said.

  Tanner sat motionlessly, as if he hadn’t heard anything from Kane.

  “It might be a while before we see another one.”

  Tanner continued to stare at the wall in an uncomforting silence.

  “Tanner?”

  “I heard you,” Tanner barked.

  Kane stared at the tormented child. “Well, if you aren’t going to take one, then I am. Okay?” Kane asked, growing impatient with his young accomplice.

  Tanner didn’t respond, and Kane didn’t have the patience to wait for a response. Kane went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, leaving Tanner alone in the silent guest room, with his disturbing memories eating away at his brain.

  The image of the gas clerk was stuck in his mind: His eyes slowly opening as he finally returned to consciousness, the blood trickling out from his broken jaw. The final moment of his life: he stared up into Tanner’s eyes, and then down into the barrel of his own shotgun.

  Bang!

  It was the most horrid thing Tanner could possibly imagine. It was real; it really happened. Tanner took another man’s life away. And for what? To improve his odds of escaping capture? Who was he to escape imprisonment? Prison is where he belonged—he was a killer—a cold-blooded murderer.

  The memory was too much to handle. He stood up and began to pace the room, desperately trying to exchange the images stuck in his mind for somet
hing else—anything else.

  He stepped out into the hallway, eyes welling up with tears. He walked up and down the hallway, his heart-rate increasing rapidly as the reality of his crime became clearer and clearer. Tanner was a monster—any dream or aspiration he’d ever had in his life was now long gone. He would have no legacy. At best, he would be forgotten. If he was caught, he would be remembered as a vile creature—a cancer within the human race.

  Tanner stopped and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. If he did get away, if he made it to the border and got to the other side: Then what? What did that say about the world he lived in? Good innocent men are killed violently, their murderers live long lives—long lives in nice warm places.

  If he was caught, there was some salvation for humanity—some hint that whatever God was in the sky was not a complete monster.

  Tanner closed his eyes and took a breath. As he opened his eyes, he noticed something on the wall: A family photo. Paige, her husband and their young daughter stood together on the beach, holding hands, smiling.

  Tanner would never have such a photo.

  Tanner noticed something else; the most devastating thing he could have ever imagined: Paige’s husband was the gas clerk.

  Tanner’s weak body stumbled as he nearly collapsed to the floor. Tanner wasn’t just a monster—he was much worse that that. What could be worse than a monster? Even The Devil himself didn’t seem like an appropriate title. Tanner had killed the husband of the kindest woman he’d ever met—the hard-working father of a young girl.

  His throat filled with a lump the size of his fist, his stomach began to turn with dizzying nausea.

  Next to the beach photo was a photo of the clerk as a younger man—rolling on the floor, playing with a big dog. A young, pregnant Paige was in the background of the photo, laughing joyously.

  “Who are you?”

  Tanner spun around, his tormented eyes bloodshot. A little girl—the very same little girl from the photo, stood feet away from Tanner, holding a big teddy bear in her arms.

  “What?” Tanner said.

  “Why are you in our house?” the girl asked.

  “I—um—Our car was stuck. Your mommy let us stay the night.”

  “She did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why are you in daddy’ pyjamas?” the girl asked.

  “Your mom let us borrow them. Is that okay?”

  “I’m Zelda. What’s your name?” the girl said.

  “Tanner,” Tanner replied.

  “What are you looking at?” Zelda asked.

  Tanner looked back at the pictures on the wall. “Your pictures. They’re very nice pictures.”

  “I like pictures,” Zelda said.

  Tanner wiped his eyes and tried his best to stand up straight and composed. “Where I grew up, we didn’t have pictures.”

  “Why not?” Zelda asked.

  “We just didn’t. No one ever took any,” Tanner said.

  “You can have one of our pictures,” Zelda said. “We have lots.”

  Tanner smiled for the first time in weeks.

  “Zelda,” Paige said, walking down the hallway towards her daughter. “Why are you out of bed?”

  “I couldn’t sleep. Where’s daddy?” Zelda asked.

  Paige looked at Tanner. “I’m sorry. She usually sleeps like a rock.” Paige looked over at her daughter. “Daddy will be home soon. He’s stuck at work. Carl here is just staying the night,” she said.

  “Who’s Carl?” Zelda said.

  Tanner’s heart dropped into his gut—he’d unwittingly given away his true identity.

  “This is Carl. The nice boy you were just talking to.”

  “That’s not Carl! That’s Tanner. Tanner doesn’t have any pictures, mommy. Can he have one of ours?”

  Paige smiled. “No pictures? Everyone has pictures.” She looked up at Tanner.

  Tanner’s eyes were wide.

  “I’m sorry—that picture is so embarrassing,” Paige said, referring to the picture of her husband with the dog. “Rick—my husband insists on having it on the wall. He loves dogs. He’s in school, trying to become a vet, believe it or not. Almost fifty years old, and he’s starting his second year of university.”

  Tanner stood silently.

  “Come on, sweetie—Let’s get you back to bed,” Paige said, taking her daughter by the hand and leading her up the stairs, back to bed. “Say good night.”

  “Good night, Tanner,” the innocent little Zelda said.

  Tanner’s paranoia was back with a vengeance. Like a feral cat, he was jumping at every creak and groan in the house. Hands shaking, he paced up and down the hallway, trying desperately to collect his rushing thoughts. He found himself in a bathroom, looking at a monster in the mirror. He started to rifle through the medicine cabinet—maybe there was Ativan or something to calm down his firing nerves.

  Next to the late-gas clerk’s shaving kit was a fresh pack of razors. Tanner picked the box up and stared at it. In minutes, he could be free from the nervous lump in his throat and the nauseous guilt in his stomach. With two quick slashes, this whole nightmare could be over.

  His hand shook violently—he was seriously considering suicide. With his trembling fingers, he peeled the plastic cover from the package, he opened the box, and he let the razors slip out onto the edge of the bathroom sink. He stared down at them for a moment, and then picked one up. He brought it to his wrist.

  “What are you doing?”

  Standing in the doorway was Paige.

  Tanner looked up at Paige with a blade in his hand. “I—I was going to shave. I didn’t—I didn’t want to use your husband’s—”

  “Shave?” Paige smiled. “Shave your wrists?”

  “I—I just—”

  “Tanner—That’s your name, right?”

  Tanner stopped trying to create an excuse. He went silent. What began as a snowball of a nightmare was now a boulder barrelling down a mountainside—with no sight of the mountain’s end.

  “Whatever is eating you inside—whatever you’ve done that you think is so horrible—I promise you, it will pass,” Paige said. “Everyone has a rocky patch or two in their life.”

  After a moment of silence, Tanner spoke. “I didn’t mean to do it,” Tanner said.

  “What’s done is done. You can’t change that—running away from it won’t change anything.”

  “You really don’t understand,” Tanner said.

  “I understand—trust me, I understand,” Paige said. “Don’t worry. It will pass.”

  Paige appeared far away, a tiny dot on an empty horizon, moving in super-slow motion.

  “It’s hard,” Paige said. “But it gets better—once it does, it’s worth it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tanner muttered, holding back a waterfall of tears.

  “No need to apologize. You’re going to be okay.”

  “No—I—I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.” Tanner wanted to tell her what he’d done—he wanted to tell her about her husband.

  “It’s okay,” Paige said. “Wash up and get some sleep. I’m making pancaked in the morning.” She smiled before turning and walking back to her bedroom for the night.

  Tanner looked back at the razor in his hand. He put it back into its little box, and then he put the little box back into the medicine cabinet.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SEVEN

  ONE SILENT MOUNTAIN NIGHT

  Unlike his accomplice, Kane was able to sleep that night. Tanner tried hard, but his overwhelming guilt kept him awake. He stared up at the ceiling while his mind wore itself out, replaying the horrible murder over and over and over again. He couldn’t bare the thought of sleeping in a dead man’s clothes, in a dead man’s home, being served by a dead man’s wife.

  Paige’s home was quieter than the Clarkson’s busy, noisy home—quieter than the rowdy juvenile detention center, and quieter than the frantic hospital where he had spent the first few years of his life. Paige’s home was quiete
r than Tanner knew was possible—quiet enough that his tormenting memories seemed louder than anything possible. Each time his mind replayed that fatal blast of the shotgun, Tanner jolted as if it was actually going off in that little guest room.

  Bang!

  It was as if his mind was tormenting him intentionally—punishing him for his horrible decision.

  Bang!

  The memory played itself back in super slow-motion—in extraordinary detail. No single gruesome detail was left out of the playback.

  Bang!

  His name was Rick. He loved dogs. He was going to school to become a vet—the gas station job was probably a second job that he worked to provide for his family while paying his way through school. He was an incredible provider, his home was beautiful, and his family was happier than any person he had ever met.

  Rick loved his daughter.

  Smash!

  Tanner hesitated a moment—the faint sound of breaking glass was strangely realistic—not a fragment of his memory at all. It came from upstairs. Kane was still fast asleep.

  Thud!

  Tanner brought himself up to his feet. He stood up straight and looked up at the ceiling of the guest room—listening carefully. “Kane?” Tanner said.

  Kane rolled over in the bed. “What?” Kane asked, still half asleep.

  “Did you hear that?” Tanner asked.

  “Hear what?”

  Tanner stood still and listened carefully for a moment. It was silent.

  “Hear what, Tanner?” Kane asked.

  “Shh,” Tanner said swiftly.

  There was a light knocking sound—like cautious footsteps navigating the upstairs of the home.

  “Do you hear that?” Tanner asked again.

  “It’s nothing, Tanner. Go back to bed. Try and get some sleep.”

  Tanner ignored his friend. He walked to the door, opened it up, and walked out of the bedroom.

  “Tanner!” Kane said sharply, sitting up in the bed.

  Careful to make as little noise as humanly possible, Tanner walked down the hallway towards the stairs. One by one, he climbed the steps, listening carefully for another sound. Midway down the hall of the top floor was an open door. Tanner carefully approached it.