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Chapter 6
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Wind Chill Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7Emma paced her room.If I can’t figure something out and get away with it, I’ve got four months . . . four fucking months . . .Looking around, she realized she didn’t even have a calendar to mark the days. Instead, the paranoid titles of her father’s books whispered to her about the hours yet to pass. She kicked the bug-out bag to the corner. Frustration staunched the welling tears before they could drip to the floor.No phone, no computer, no movies. Not even a poster, for Christ’s sake!The window rattled behind the metal barrier. Echoes of a high-pitched gust tingled in Emma’s ears, raising the fine hairs on her arms. She rubbed the limbs, trying to subdue the sudden outbreak of gooseflesh until the noise passed.Damn, Dad. I really wish you would’ve at least let me grab my iPod.Shivering, Emma snatched the blanket off the bed and wrapped it around herself like a cloak. She scowled, drawing deeper into it.And it’s fucking freezing on top of it. Location, locatio
Wind Chill Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8“How’d you sleep?”Emma watched her father’s hopeful smile wilt under a well-aimed glare. Clearing his throat, he turned his attention back to the eggs cooking on the stove.Emma took a sip from the cup of coffee waiting for her on the table. Her mouth puckered at the drink’s bitterness, but she ignored the sugar and creamer at her elbow.“That stupid wind kept me up all night.”Her father reached for the bag of bread on the counter and pushed two slices into the toaster. “Winters around here are usually pretty harsh. It should start calming down in a couple months, though.”Emma rubbed her eyes and took a long draught of her coffee.Great.The eggs sizzled while she again took stock of the kitchen. While it had fewer rooms, each part of the cabin appeared larger than its counterpart back home, making her feel even shorter than usual. Every cabinet seemed out of reach.“Where did you find this place, anyway?”Her father scraped the eggs off the skillet with a spatul
Wind Chill Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9Emma woke to wind.The whistle filled her ears, flooding her skull until her brain threatened to freeze solid. She tried to block the sound, but her hands rose in fitful spasms from where they were buried in the snow. They numbed to rigidity before they could go higher than her chest.“H-h-he . . . ”The word stalled on Emma’s tongue, garbled by the clicking of her teeth. Every muscle in her body clenched, tightening harder while the gusts picked up. Her eyes closed under the blasts of frigid air, ice forming on the lids while the ebb and flow of the gales gave way to one massive roar.The sound hit Emma like a brick wall, rattling her bones. The sinews in her legs stretched as the force snatched her from the snow, wrenching hard enough to drag out a scream when her knees popped free of their sockets.“God!”She pried her eyes open just wide enough to see the landscape thirty feet below her, the smoke from the cabin’s chimney wafting past her face. She coughed on the f
Wind Chill Chapter 10
CHAPTER 10Emma closed the door to her room, the tiny click of the latch causing her incisors to draw fresh blood from her lip. Something between a mad giggle and a sob caught in her throat while she wiped her mouth.He lied! He lied to me!This time, she did laugh, soft and tittering.And why did you think he wouldn’t? That the deal was legit? He drugged you to bring you here, for God’s sake!Emma held her palm to her head, suddenly dizzy. Her last vain hope for her father’s sanity shriveled into a little black ball. The thing throbbed inside her skull, synchronizing with the echoes of the hammer blows.There’s no way out now. There’s no phone, no car. No neighbors. The best I’d be able to do is run for it.The wind whistled past the window, dredging the overwhelming cold of her nightmares back into her bones. She clenched her teeth, trying to fight the shiver coursing through her.Don’t give up! There has to be something. Think . . .The harder Emma tried to come up with som
Wind Chill Chapter 11
CHAPTER 11“Dad!”Emma regretted calling out the moment the word left her lips. The thin trees swayed in the rising wind as if in response, the low-hanging branches whipping at her face. Through the boughs, she saw the sun was all but gone, making long shadows of the wood around her. They swam around her feet like black snakes—like the tendrils she’d seen writhing in the movie theater in her dream—waiting to ensnare and infect her. From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw one flick toward her ankle.Emma turned and ran, breaking through the twigs and branches her father had been so careful to avoid going in. Scratched and bloodied, she fell into the snow, throwing one backward glance at the spreading darkness before dashing for the cabin.When she reached the shelter, she slammed the door shut behind her, securing every one of the locks before retreating to the center of the room, the rifle raised in her hands. Her own breaths felt like they were strangling her before common
Wind Chill Chapter 12
CHAPTER 12Emma stared through the sparks, willing the space inside the doorframe to glow a bright, molten red. Sweat slid down her forehead and past her eyes behind the goggles, blurring her progress. She didn’t stop until the torch’s nozzle began to sputter. Turning it off, Emma lifted the goggles and wiped away the perspiration to observe her handiwork.Not bad, but I better make this quick. If that metal cools off, I’m screwed.She picked up the sledgehammer resting at her feet, adjusting her stance to accommodate its weight before taking a swing at the door. The faux-wood veneer split under the blow, the metal behind it denting. Emma stumbled back, aiming her next shot. The glow inside the door was already starting to dim.Man, I better make this count.She huffed, reared back, and struck out with everything she had. When the hammer connected, the door flew open, crashing into the wall on the other side. Straight ahead of her, a desk rested against the far wall, her father’s
Wind Chill Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13Emma took a seat on the floor after another few hours of scouring her father’s personal effects. A mess of open books and printouts littered the floor around her. The clutter of literature and ramblings had yet to shed any additional light on the situation.Emma’s fingers dug into her stomach, the tightness in her gut making her wince.Crap . . . I only had a couple bites to eat all day, didn’t I?She slunk back downstairs and into the kitchen. The room seemed darker than the day before, and each groan of the appliances sent her fingers fumbling for the pistol at her side. Guilt tightened around her heart like a noose when she saw the table still waiting to be set and the empty skillet sitting on the stove range.He was here just this morning, wasn’t he? Cooking for me. Trying to do something nice for me. And where the hell was I when he needed me?Emma rubbed her head, the image of her father working the stove shifting to the one of him hammering the car’s alternator
Wind Chill Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14Emma glowered at the sea of remaining paper waiting for her in the desk drawers. Sifting through the contents, she collected everything that seemed pointless and set it aside with the rest of the refuse on the floor.Okay, fuck the DIY and paranoid stuff. Let’s focus on the really weird shit.Left with only her father’s collection of folklore, Emma dug in. It took a conscious effort to take the material seriously, and she found her eyes rolling at more than one of the entries. Every ridiculous creature and legend she’d seen on TV seemed present and accounted for.Thunderbirds, the Dover Demon . . . goat . . . men? With axes? Seriously?A chuckle started up in Emma’s throat and died when she thought of her father painstakingly gathering all the information before her now, trying to put a name to the thing that had festered inside his wife. Inside him.My father, the monster killer. My father, the monster. Jesus . . .Her mood continued to sour into disquiet the further
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Wind Chill The Last Great Effect
THE LAST GREAT EFFECTClyde Reynolds pushed his foot down on the accelerator so hard his knee began to ache. He gritted his teeth, dodging around traffic and ignoring the profanity aimed his way through open windows. Reggie’s voice again drifted into the car via Bluetooth.“Clyde? You still there, man?”Clyde winced as yet another horn blared behind him. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m here. You just stay with me, okay? Just keep talking.”A sigh blew through the speakers. Tired. Dreamy. Clyde cringed deeper into his seat, feeling as if a precursor to his friend’s death rattle were blowing into the car like a dry Autumn breeze.“I’ve had an awful lot of pills. An awful lot. I’m sorry about all this.”Oh Christ!Clyde held his breath and blew past a red light. His hands throttled the wheel when the sign for Reggie’s street came into view. The car nearly tipped when he spun into the turn.Almost there. Keep him talking.“It’s okay! I’m your friend, remember? It’s been that way for thirty years
Wind Chill The Deconstructionist
THE DECONSTRUCTIONISTAndy Harper drank in the world he’d wrought. The spires of massive skyscrapers pierced the clouds and gouged the ionosphere. Far below, the tangle of glass and steel stretched across the landscape. The streets that had once connected the buildings were no longer necessary. The roads had simply been swallowed up as the structures grew, the bulk of each tower melting into the next until all were united. Vacant, the rows of buildings stood sentry over what few patches of bare space remained below. All was silent until Andy’s mutter of disgust.It’s gone stale? Already?He waved his hand and let it all dissolve. As the structures had been built, they vanished, their outlines shimmering while the molecules composing them lost their solidity and came apart. Dozens of miles of metropolis were reduced to a vacant lot in a matter of seconds. Only a few places that held the essentials of life were allowed to remain behind. Andy sat and rested his narrow chin on his knuck
Wind Chill The Skin Trade
THE SKIN TRADECarl Hanson nursed his whiskey and soda at the hotel bar. He observed the man reflected in the polished wood under his elbows, his free hand unsure whether to smooth the streak of gray hair resting near his temple or hide it. Carl grimaced, sharpening all the little lines in his face he was learning to hate. The smooth, hungry faces of the others he’d met at the conference leered through his memory.Young Turks as far as the eye can see. Probably snickering behind my back as soon as I got off stage. Or just planning how to gun for me. Well, I may be getting a little gray and overweight, but I’m not dead yet, kiddies.Carl downed the rest of his drink. Setting the glass down, his eyebrows raised when the bartender gave him a refill without prompting.The young man looked at Carl over his shoulder while returning the bottle to its spot on the shelf. White teeth flashed a conspiratorial smile in his tan face.“Courtesy of the lady at the end of the bar, sir.”Carl lea
Wind Chill Jump Cuts
JUMP CUTSEllen Harris sleepwalked through town. Reflex lifted her feet with the February drifts, the whiteout in her mind even more complete. Her slow pace through the snow on the ground offered up no sound to wake her from the daily trance while her subconscious gorged on winter scenery, storing the skeleton fingers of white trees for future dreams and nightmares.A truck sped by her, the spraying of snow under its tires breaking the spell chanted by the wind. Ellen wiped the moisture from her face.Was that ten minutes I’ve been walking? She squinted in search of a landmark. Twenty?Ellen hid her face deeper inside the collar of her coat and picked up her pace, desperately trying to return to the dead zone in her head. She strained to find the emptiness, but it was too late. The past coughed the dust from its lungs and whispered to her instead. A different void began to creep inside her, and this one didn’t offer the comfort of oblivion. She glared at the taillights disappearing
Wind Chill Shadowplay
SHADOWPLAYCaleb Hunter rested his elbows on his desk. The small white carton of pork lo mein that rested between them had been empty for almost fifteen minutes. As usual, the remaining portion of his lunch break was spent looking out his office window.He sighed and rubbed his fingers against the streaks of gray encroaching on his temples. Across the street below, children frolicked, screaming while they chased each other and clambered over the playground equipment erected in the park. One young boy sat atop a large rock on the outskirts. His sneakered feet swung back and forth, heels striking the plaque bearing Caleb’s name amongst the donors. Each unheard thud against the metal reminded Caleb of the beat of a younger, healthier heart.How old was I the last time I hung upside down on the monkey bars until I got lightheaded? Or played kickball? Or had any actual fun?The laughter below dredged Brian’s grin from the depths of his memory, a lopsided assortment of gaps and baby teet
Wind Chill Little Red Vest
LITTLE RED VESTKathy Sullivan groaned in tune with her car’s engine.Come on. Oh, come onnnn . . .Her hands tightened around the wheel while she pushed the Lexus to the nearest space on the side of the road. The vehicle barely squeezed in before sputtering its death rattle. Karen’s head banged against the wheel.A year and a half since my last vacation and the car dies on day one. Of course. Why not?She got out and slammed the door behind her. The ivory paint reminded her of the dealer’s bleached teeth.Like brand-new, ma’am. Full package. Very reliable. She banged a fist on the roof. Asshole!Kathy fished for the cell phone in her purse, praying AAA had someone close by.Just stay calm. You can get a cab to get you to the hotel. Big as this city is, there’s got to be a mechanic around who can get that piece of junk running again by the time this little trip is over.Realizing she would need to give the person who answered her call a location, she looked around, but nothing
Wind Chill Bang!
BANG!Richard swayed in time with the piano music seeping up to him through the roof. The vibrations tickled his feet through the soles of handmade Italian shoes, as did the conversations of the diners still inside the restaurant—and their heartbeats. Elongated ears trembled at the sound of the door opening below. He grumbled in tune with his stomach at the sight of the couple walking out arm in arm.Wonderful. Another pair of bloody lovebirds.Richard pulled a silver pocket watch from its place in his vest.There are only four people left inside and dinner service ends in fifteen minutes. His stomach growled even louder than before. If I have to skip another meal, so help me . . .Five minutes passed before fresh footfalls sounded below—the remaining patrons all leaving the same table. He waited while they exited to the sidewalk and said their goodbyes. Two cars roared to life and buzzed down the street. Aching from the cacophony, Richard’s ears still picked up the click of high
Wind Chill The Fear Merchant
THE FEAR MERCHANTThe Jack-o’-lantern on Roy Wallace’s porch was in desperate need of a Botox treatment. A mere week after Halloween, rot was already hard at work on the toothy grin. The corners of its mouth had drooped into a grimace, and the gourd reeked of sweet decay and old smoke. His face twisting into the same mask of displeasure, Roy didn’t know what to blame: the odor or the house across the street.DiStefano . . . how am I supposed to compete with that prick?He considered ending his creation’s torment with a boot through the face as he looked upon the parade of children passing through his neighbor’s door.Damn, they’re still going over there? The line looks even longer than it did an hour ago.Roy hissed out a sigh to match the one blowing through the dead leaves on his doorstep.I haven’t seen those piled up in twenty years.He could almost feel DiStefano rubbing his nose in them.Fucker got his first visual effects Oscar the same year I washed out of FX school. Al
Wind Chill Epilogue
EPILOGUEEmmett Kinley kept his eyes on the road.The lush spring greenery made him want to raise the windows until the car was an airtight box. Even cloistered inside the vehicle, he fancied he caught a whiff of wet grass and lilac. His finger stabbed the button for the windows. The pressure didn’t ease until the cabin appeared in the distance.No choice but to suck it up now. I don’t know why I keep comin’ back here.No sooner had the thought passed his mind than he felt like hitting himself.Because he was your boy, damn it. And he deserves to be remembered.Emmett punched the wheel hard enough to activate the horn.I told him winter was gonna be bad that year. The worst in a century, I said. I told him to pack heavy to cover him and that drinkin’ buddy of his when he insisted on goin’. I told him not to risk traipsin’ outside when it got that damn cold. Why the hell didn’t he listen?He took a deep breath, then tried to snort out the scents he imagined he’d sucked in.I ju
