When Winter Comes | Book 5 | Into The White Page 2

  Still, if this kid was in some kind of arrhythmia or had gone into anaphylactic shock, then what was he to do? There was no medicine nearby, no tools, nothing to ease this kid from his discomfort. The house had been abandoned for years, what little was left was stripped bare or rotten. For the first time, Alex wondered what this house had once been used for.

  He lifted the kid’s chin into the air, eliminating the threat of him choking on his own tongue. With some difficulty, he shifted his hips until his body was angled to the side. He raised one leg at an angle. With the kid’s airways opened up, and his body in a position of some kind of comfort, he only hoped that this would have some kind of impact. Only time would tell, and his best bets told him that time was short. Even in the few seconds since he had listened to his chest, he was certain his breaths had grown quieter and more infrequent.

  Damien tilted his head. “Is that it? Is he okay?”

  “I don’t know.” Alex rested back on his heels. He turned to the doorway where the girl had exited some time ago, brow furrowing. “What’s taking her so long?”

  “I’ll go check,” Damien said, eager to get involved and help in some way. He trotted to the door, but before he could reach for the handle, the girl appeared in the doorway.

  Before she spoke, Alex could already tell that something was wrong.

  “What is it?”

  The girl revealed a length of rope that was secured to some point in the hall. As she unfurled it into the room, a frayed end came into view.

  Alex took the end of the rope in his hand and examined the frayed tip. Ice raced through his body.

  “He’s… gone?”

  The girl whimpered, her hand clamping her mouth.

  Indelicately shoving the girl aside, Alex rushed to the front door. He yanked it open, the full brunt of the storm hitting him in the chest, stinging his eyes, taking his breath. Outside, there was nothing but white, the ground, the air, the sky, all was lost in that singular colour where the world had once been. He scanned the ground for footprints, any kind of trail that might indicate that Cody had once been here, but all was lost.

  The hope that had flooded his heart at finding the kids in the house melted and pooled around his feet. His fingers gripped the door jam, knuckles turning as white as the world as he slammed the door shut and closed off the blizzard. It beat against the door with icy fists, shouting its protest as Alex ran his hands through his hair and tried to think clearly about the next step ahead. In his peripheries the girl tried to hold in her anguish, the faint pulsing sobs of her misery leaking through the cracks of her fingers. Damien sat beside the dying kid, staring at Alex with that same curious expression that had become a staple on his young face.

  The rope trailed on the ground, coiled like a dead, anorexic snake, its head blown off and left as wet strings of viscera in the wake of the shotgun shell. Without thought, he wrapped it around his waist and secured the knot tightly. There was still considerable length left, perhaps it could be enough to reach Cody.

  He was out of the door before the others could react. The girl’s shouts formed the soundtrack to his exit as he ran into the snow until the rope pulled taught and snapped him back. He grunted as he was thrown onto his ass, sinking into the layers of powder that frosted the world.

  Back on his feet. He scanned, hunting in all directions for any sign of Cody. When none came, he ran around the house, using the rope as his anchor point, doing what Cody should have been able to do with ease until the rope had snapped…

  Snapped?

  Alex stopped. He tugged at the rope, the only fixed point in this world of neutrality. The rope was strong—strong enough to bear Alex’s weight as he had pulled and reached the end of its tether.

  So how had it split?

  The storm picked up its fervour, hurling its contents at Alex in an effort to distract him from its wrath. He folded over himself, shielded the frayed piece of rope bound around his waist in order to examine the fine strings. Something had to have cut the rope. Something had to have interfered, severed it without Cody’s knowledge.

  So, what could it have been? What else was out there in the storm with them? The wendigos? Tori’s ex-lover? What other secrets could the storm be holding? Waiting until the endgame to reveal its full hand and claim itself the winner.

  Alex took a calming breath and reeled himself back to the house. It was useless. Even if there was to be a sign of Cody, he’d never find it. Not now. Not like this. The odds were akin to finding a snowflake fallen into a bowl of warm water.

  With every step, Alex expected the rope to go slack in his hands. Yet, after a minute of working his way along its taught length, the house came into sight. A mixture of relief and sadness flooded his body as he thought of Cody, wishing that he had been able to get back as easily and safely as Alex had.

  The girl stood in wait in the doorway, the front of her body jewelled in snow. She moved out of the way as Alex crossed the threshold, the weight he bore on his shoulders heavier than it had been before. He had been so close. So damn close to finding his nephew…

  “Did you…?” The girl’s voice trailed away, understanding it was worthless to ask.

  Alex shook off the excess snow that covered his body, adding a small pile of damp in front of the door. He untied the rope and examined its end more closely this time. “Something cut Cody loose.”

  Tears pricked the girl’s eyes. “How can you be sure?”

  Alex ran the frayed threads across his gloved hand. “This is a strong rope. I’d be surprised if it broke of its own accord. Something was out there with him. They hacked away at the rope without his knowing. He’s out there with them now, I’m sure of it.”

  “Is he…?” The girl failed once more to finish her sentence.

  Alex took a long breath, his eyes grown dark as he lost himself in thought. A cough came from the other room, the sound of a geriatric, life-long smoker fighting the build-up of tar in his respiratory system. Alex gritted his teeth, allowing helplessness to take him.

  The girl surprised Alex by wrapping her arms around his waist. She pressed herself into his chest and cried.

  “I’m scared.”

  Alex cocooned the girl in his arms. He looked over her head to where Damien hovered near the big kid. His collective tribe of misfits. How had it come to this? A man who had spent most of his growing years avoiding the chains of parenthood, choosing instead to invest his time in creation, travel, and friends, now the sole guardian of two teens and a child—one teen clinging onto the brink of life in the heart of the storm…

  “Me, too.” He sighed. “Me, too…”

  A creak from above, followed by a soft thud. Unmistakable. He glanced up the stairs to where the sound had come from.

  Alex encouraged Sophie into the other room, teasing her arms from around his waist. He took the rifle from his shoulder.

  “What is it? Is it one of them?” Sophie asked.

  “Close the door,” Alex said. “Wait with your friend. If you hear anything other than a gunshot, run.”

  “Run? Run where?”

  Alex started his ascent, the wood bowing under his weight. The step protested, groaning loudly as he took to the second, the third.

  Upstairs had fallen strangely quiet, and now each step up alerted possible intruders of his position. There was no way to remain silent, but he didn’t need silence with a rifle in his hands. He only needed to discover the source of the sound, which he was certain had been more than the language of the shack.

  Shadows danced ahead of him. A single room without a door. It may once have been a bedroom, but it had been a long time since anyone had slept here. A four-poster bed had collapsed in on itself, with only one post remaining. The floorboards were swollen and uneven, moth-bitten curtains trailing in the steady breeze that rolled through various cracks and holes in the wall. It was a wonder the glass had lasted this long, considering the spider-web cracks that littered their surface.

  Alex swept the rifle
around the room, preparing himself for the worst. In his mind he saw wendigos and vampires and werewolves, denizens of the night and of myth, coiled and ready to spring at the new arrival. Instead, he found nothing. Just an abandoned room, without even the trace of the ghosts of its former owners.

  Alex shook his head, wondering if he had been hearing things. The night had been full of stresses, and he was no stranger to what this kind of stress, adrenaline, and a tired mind could do to its host. He wandered over to the bed and peeked beneath, emulating the fearful child he had once been, terrified of finding the Bogeyman or some multi-limbed creature waiting to gnaw at his foot as it hung limply outside of the safety of the covers. In his infantile mind he had once sworn to his parents that he had seen the beast wink at him, two orbs of colossal size in the darkness like jaundice moons staring back from infinite space. One eclipse becoming the intelligent wink that snatched his sleep for the next ten nights.

  But Alex was older now, past those prepubescent years of imagination and devilish wonder. From beneath the bed he could make out the shapes of decaying boxes and reams of cobwebs. Nothing moved down there, unless you counted the gentle vibrations of his breath on the dusty gossamer.

  A click from behind. Alex spun, staring into face of young girl, as pale as a lily, tinged with a hint of ice-blue. The blinking eye of the barrel of the gun pointed directly at his nose.

  “Are you a monster?”

  Her voice was as soft as petals blown by a summer wind. Alex was taken aback by this sudden apparition, unable to comprehend where the girl had come from. She seemed so out of place here, her bright neon pink boots attempting to draw the eye from the imminent threat of her pistol.

  “No. I’m not a monster.”

  “Are you a friend?”

  “I’d say I’m a stranger in this situation.” Alex matched the girl’s volume, fearful of drawing attention to the kids downstairs in case they rushed to his rescue and scared the tender doe.

  “Mummy said not to talk to strangers. She calls it ‘stranger danger.’”

  “I bet your mummy also told you not to go wandering through the streets at night. Where are your parents?”

  “I don’t know.” The gun lowered, slightly.

  “Are they here? Were they in this house with you?”

  The little girl shook her head, her curtain of dark hair brushing over her face. “I’m Alice.”

  “I’m Alex.”

  Alice giggled softly. “They sound the same.”

  “They do.” Alex shared none of her mirth. How could he, when there was still a very real possibility of a bullet desiccating his body? “Alice… Please put the gun down? There’s nothing to be afraid of here. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Alice considered this, the smile fading from her face. “But you have one.”

  Alex glanced down at the rifle clutched limply in his hand. He placed it flat on the floor and placatingly held up his hands. “Not anymore. See?”

  Alice allowed the pistol to slip from her grip and thump on the wooden floorboards. Her eyes lowered. “Alex…?”

  “Yes, Alice?”

  “I don’t want to die.”

  The sadness in her eyes brought on a dull ache in his heart. No young girl should have that amount of pain in their eyes.

  “Are you alone in this house?”

  Alice sawed her nose with the back of her arm, eyes flickering momentarily to the ceiling. “Yes.”

  “Is this your house?” Alex felt he knew the answer but didn’t want to presume. Alice confirmed his suspicions with a shake of her head.

  “Where are your parents?”

  Alice kicked at the floor, unable to meet Alex’s eyes. “The monsters came.”

  Alex swallowed, trying not to push the girl further than she was comfortable. “And how did you find your way to this house? How did you make it through the storm alone?”

  “I walked.”

  Alice offered no other explanation, yet an idea burned in Alex’s mind. If a little girl such as she could walk across Denridge and find her way to… wherever this place was… then wouldn’t that mean they could all walk back together? If a six-year-old could survive the journey, then surely they could too?

  “Do you remember which direction you came from?” Alex shuffled closer, forcing her to look at him. “Do you remember how you got here?”

  “No.” She stared into Alex’s eyes. “I heard voices downstairs.”

  Alex’s eyes narrowed. Yes, there were people downstairs. But how would she react to the state of the big kid? Should Alex expose a teen on the brink of death to a girl barely old enough to pick out her own clothes?

  He reached for the pistol by Alice’s boot and took it before she could realise what he was doing. By the time it was in his hands, she had taken a step back, eyes growing wide in fear. “No! I’m sorry… Please, no!”

  Alex shoved the pistol hastily in his pocket and raised his hands once more. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you, I promise, okay? Alice… Calm down.”

  Alice stumbled backwards, her face a mask of fear. Alex didn’t know what to do. He could hardly chase her, could he? He took a tentative step towards her, thankful when a friendly face appeared at the top of the staircase.

  Cody’s friend looked between Alex and Alice, brow furrowed as she examined the girl cowering against the far wall.

  “Where did she come from?” There was a hint of accusation in her voice.

  “I don’t know,” Alex said. “But she’s here now, and she’s one of us… aren’t you, Alice?”

  Alice stared at Alex for a long moment, mistrustful and afraid. It wasn’t until Cody’s friend stopped at the top of the stairs and said, “Alice? That’s a pretty name. Why don’t you come a little closer so we can say hello? I don’t bite.” Alice’s shoulders softened. She tentatively stepped closer.

  “What’s your name?” Alice asked.

  “Sophie. Are you alone, Alice?”

  I’ve already asked her that…

  Alice nodded.

  “She doesn’t know where her parents are,” Alex said. “She says the monsters came for them.”

  Sophie’s face hardened. “I’m sorry to hear that. We’ve had loved ones taken by the monsters, too. Why don’t you come downstairs with the rest of us and tell us all about it? We can all help each other get out of this mess, if you like?”

  Alex’s jaw clenched. “We don’t have time for talking. Cody is…”

  Sophie shot Alex a ‘Shut up for a second,’ look, and he silenced.

  She placed her arm around Alice’s shoulder and guided her to the staircase. “We can all work together and figure this out, can’t we? You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

  Alice’s eyes trailed to the ceiling before she nodded her confirmation. Alex watched the pair descend the stairs until they were out of sight. When they were gone, he examined the rest of the bedroom, only pausing for a moment to stare up into a curious hole he discovered in ceiling of the built-in wardrobe. For a fleeting moment he wondered if Alice could have been hiding up there, but he shrugged the thought away. There was no way anyone could comfortably climb up or down into the hole without making some kind of racket...

  3

  Tori Asplin

  Tori returned to the window. The same place that had consumed her attention ever since Naomi had shown her the strange spectacle outside.

  It was enchanting, the neat line of wendigos standing in formation as though they were waiting for something to occur, creating the barrier to the forest. On either side of the line the snow fell at its full force yet, where the wendigos stood, the powder came in gentle drifts, forming a gulley where, for the first time that night, Tori could see beyond the reach of her arm. At the farthest reaches of her vision, the first of the forest’s jack pines loomed.

  She nursed the coffee that warmed her hands, taking advantage of its heat between sips. Naomi and Oscar bustled around downstairs, raiding Donavon’s stores for more eq
uipment to arm themselves with. By the sounds of what Naomi was declaring, they were going to war.

  Tori didn’t feel the same fire in her stomach that Naomi did. Tiredness had caught up with her, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in the nearest bedroom and sleep. Close her eyes and imagine that all of this was over.

  But, how could she? This night was far from over. As she studied each of the pale white sentinels in turn, her mind played over each incident of that night where they had played the starring role. She had seen the insides of a man tonight, had seen the product of their work. They had claimed Karl and turned him into one of their own, nothing more than an obedient slave to their hidden agendas. She couldn’t understand it, couldn’t work out what they wanted or how to make it stop. All that she knew was that stepping out of this house meant destruction and, while they remained under this roof, at least for now, they appeared to be safe.

  Movement caught her eye. One of the sentinel’s knees buckled. Under the weight of the gather snow, it folded onto one knee, then the other. Finally, it collapsed onto its front, unmoving, still.

  The others showed no sign of recognition nor care for their fallen brethren. Instead, a curious thing happened. As if they had known that such a fall was coming, another unmasked wendigo—one resembling more of a human form than that which had fallen—strode from the forest, through the snow, and took the wendigo’s position.

  Tori cocked her head, digesting this information as an ornithologist might study a parakeet. It seemed so surreal, the whole notion of what she was seeing was impossible.

  But was it?

  “Are you ready?” Naomi stood at the top of the stairs, her face hardened, Donavon’s tampered skull hooked under one arm.

  Tori shook her head. Sipped her coffee. “No. You?”

  Naomi’s lips thinned, as if the very idea of showing an ounce of fear was blasphemous. “We have to try.”