I’m Dreaming of a Whiteout

 

 

 

 

“When are we going home, Kai?” Dad asked.

Again.

It was the fifteenth time in the past hour. I know because I counted.

Both me and Mom knew when we were going home. It was the same as every trip to the cabin.

“Soon, Jim,” Mom answered. It was her fifteenth time as well. I know that because she says it every time he asks, even if I’ve already answered him.

We smiled at each other across the cabin. Knowing, patient smiles, filled with a mix of pain and love for the ghost of the man who sat in the front room with me.

“Why isn’t Max here yet?” she asked me. I was hoping to get through my first coffee before she brought him up.

“I don’t know, Mom,” I tried to make my reply sound absent, disinterested with the topic. But Mom was always good at picking up on subtleties except when it came to me and my love life. She got better at it over the years, mostly because she let go of her biases. While I was in college she was all over me. If it wasn’t my major, it was my grades. If it wasn’t my major or my grades, it was my love life.

That was a lot of fun.

I’d hidden the fact that I was gay from my parents throughout high school, even dating a few girls to throw them off. But leaving to attend the University of Washington delivered freedom on a level I didn’t think was possible. Not only was living in Seattle a hell of a lot better than living in the small town of Centralia, two hours down the road, but the people of the city and the campus itself were much more open and accepting of its gay, lesbian, and trans members. It was the first place in the world where it was okay to be anything but straight. I could have stayed there forever.

Some of my excitement about this new identity liberty slipped through in a text to my mother during my freshman year. I don’t even think I was into my second semester when I mentioned finding someone attractive. It was at a party. In my drunken stupor (or was it courage?) I told my mother the secret I’d hid from her my entire life. She didn’t reply. When a few weeks passed and I still hadn’t heard from her, I knew we’d crossed a threshold that redefined our relationship.

That’s how conservative families operate. The expected blowups and accusations, yelling matches filled with painful comments from parents not yet ready to deal with having a gay kid, followed by months, if not years, of silence. We didn’t start healing until I came home after that freshman year. I guess it was a lot harder for them to ignore or reject me when I was standing on their doorstep.

To her credit, Mom came around. Who said you couldn’t teach old dogs new tricks?

Dad … well, he never changed, not until that decision was taken from him.

By the time I returned to Seattle the following September, she was at least convinced I wasn’t torturing small animals in my spare time. Before long she was even ready to meet my boyfriend. Dad had a serious aversion to thinking about his son planting a hand on a man’s ass the same way he’d done to Mom my entire life. He seemed fixated on the image he’d created. Back then, the hypocrisy of straight people infuriated me. After too many years, even after college, and too many screaming matches, I gave it up. If he didn’t care about the true me, I wasn’t going to care about what principles grounded his opinion.

I was okay with that; time was on my side. He was the older one, the parent who was missing out on his child’s life. The weight of it bothered him, even if he tried to never show it. At least he tried to deal with something.

We almost ended up being a decent family.

Sitting here, with him, I grimaced at the memory of us. The family we never quite became.

“What’s that about?”

“What?” I put the mask back on.

“That look?”

“Oh,” I laughed. It was fake and I knew she’d notice. “Nothing.”

“Hmmm, okay. Well, I hope Max gets up here before the storm,” she commented as she washed the last of the dishes. I breathed again. “I don’t want him getting caught out in it. He’s a city boy, after all. You might want to get into town and grab him.”

This time my laugh was real. I loved when she talked like this about people from cities as if we were mountain people. We were as ‘trashy white’ as everyone else in Centralia, a decent-sized town in its own right. But in Centralia, we were as satiated with the comforts of modern living as someone from Seattle. The only difference? Seattle had mass transit.

“We’re city people too,” I reminded her, glancing away from the book I was reading long enough to smirk at her.

She flicked her soapy fingertips at me. “You’re a brat.”

“And you’re a snob,” I said, being playful. I set my e-reader down in my lap. “But, I promise, I’ll head into town in a bit.”

She glanced out the window that exposed the Pacific Northwest’s majesty. A shadow passed over her face as if she saw something out there. “You should call him. If he’s not close, tell him to turn around.”

I didn’t like her change of tone or her suggestion. Lifting myself off the chair, a challenge since I’d draped my legs over the arm, I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my cell phone, wagging it at her. “Kinda hard to do without reception, Mommy.”

Now she flicked a spatula covered with soapy water at me. “Don’t say that,” she chided. “It’s gross. Plus, I can’t help that you’re addicted to that darn thing. Use the house phone.”

I laughed. “It’s not about being addicted,” I groaned. “It’s about being connected. You know? To the world? The big, round globe we live on?”

I stopped immediately. That was a stupid thing to say. What happened with Dad wasn’t her fault. Mom’s face blanked. “I’m sorry.”

But she only shook her head, concentrating on that small, soapy pile of dishes and utensils from the night’s dinner. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t. It hurt. I should have been more sensitive. I crossed the small living area to the kitchen. Mom continued washing the dishes. Putting my arm around her, I leaned my head until it touched hers. She softened immediately. “Does he still do it?”

All Dad seemed worried about was that stupid desktop globe. It had to be everywhere he was. Mom kept one at the cabin, convincing him it was the same one from the house. He didn’t know. But he needed the globe, Mom said. It helped him feel grounded because his way home was illuminated in the lights in the globe.

It didn’t have lights.

But Dad saw them. Ever since the accident.

Going home. He always worried about going home. Even when he was home.

The accident really fucked him up.

The soapy water served as a wonderful distraction for her. After a moment of silence, we shared a look at Dad. He sat in the rocking chair facing the tall windows. Back to my middle school years, I could remember him enjoying the view, almost at an unhealthy level, like he had some deep connection with this part of the world that went beyond normal. But now, decades later, it was the only thing that brought him out of his vegetative stupor. And that only happened on rare occasions. Maybe that was why Mom brought him up here so often. Maybe that was why we were spending Christmas here at the cabin, instead of back at the house in Centralia.

Below us, the dark green canopy of western Washington forest darkened with the oncoming winter evening. It was four in the afternoon. Night came early in this part of the world. The night promised our first snowfall of the season.

“Yeah,” her soft reply was barely audible above the sound of running water hitting the dishes under her hands. She stole a glance at my immobile father.

“It’ll get better,” I served up the platitude with practiced ease. It wasn’t going to get better, we both knew it. It hadn’t since the accident that took my father from us and replaced him with that shell sitting in the living room. He’d been in the Olympic Mountains when it happened. No one was with him; Dad had so few friends out here. A steep grade on a mountain, a misplaced foot, we guessed, and the man we knew tumbled from the world, replaced by this reserved and incomprehensible person. Rumors from town about an ancient evil being responsible for Dad’s disappearance filtered out to the cabin, out to Mom. People said inconsiderate things, ridiculous things. Blaming some ancient creature. Spreading stories of how it terrorized the region and that Dad was its latest victim. Irresponsible things. How many times had she called me in tears because of the stupid things uneducated people said? I hated that she came up here with Dad. I hated that she stayed here when he disappeared. I hated the people in town for tormenting her like that.

And I hated myself for not being there for her. For them.

But Dad proved them wrong, wandering to safety after days of being lost.

How it didn't kill Mom, I’ll never know. When he came back though, he wasn’t the same. He never was again.

Docility easily switched to rage with this new man. After the medications mutated his brain’s pathways, he started disappearing for hours at a time, getting lost in the neighborhood where he’d spent his entire life. It caused Mom endless heartache. But she stood by him. Even when he’d wander off during a dark period when Ember Lake was terrorized by a serial killer a couple years ago. Every year since the accident, he’d disappear on her. Most of those times were up here, too far away for me to help. She was alone in more ways than one. When most people would have broken, she stayed strong.

“I know,” Mom said, just as false as I’d been with her. I imagined she was distracted by visions of what her life was like before the accident and subsequent drugs filled her husband’s head with hallucinations. “It’s starting to snow,” Mom broke my thoughts, gesturing with a butter knife toward the windows. “The first snow. The white night is coming. You need to get going, Kai. No two ways about it. Go. Get Max. It’ll be time to feed your father soon. I want you home.”

She was right; flakes danced in swirls outside the windows.

“Okay, okay. I’ll head into town,” I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.

The side of her mouth curled up. Did my coming out here make her happy? I hoped so; she had so little happiness in her life these past few years. “Good. Get going,” she counseled, her tone lighter now as she gave me a tender shove. “I don’t want you and Max caught out in it. You’re bad enough of a driver and he’s never been up here. Don’t make him do it on his own. You know how it can be.”

I did. The road going into town was a tight two-lane with no shoulder. All the roads around Ember Lake were slivers cutting through the forest. Even on summer days, it was perilous. Winter made it worse. Driving them in the snow, for someone who’d never driven up here? I didn’t want to do that to Max.

Even if we’d been fighting.

Even if he was being a complete asshole.

“Don’t dawdle,” Mom smiled, draining the sink. “We’ve got nowhere to go until the Montmore’s party tomorrow. But I want you back soon. Then we can all have a nice, relaxing weekend. You two have been under a lot of pressure lately.”

We had.

I kissed her cheek one last time and headed down the short hall toward the room I was going to share with Max. If he ever got here. Snagging my North Face jacket, I made a quick exit and got the car warming. Refusing to sit and wait for it, I headed back inside to let Mom know I was leaving.

She sat next to Dad in front of the windows. Their gray-haired heads peaked over the chairs. Mom’s knitting sat in her lap and Dad was asleep. He slept a lot these days. Mom put a finger to her lips, shushing me. I noticed her other hand was on his. Knitting had given way to a connection between the lifelong partners.

My chest swelled. After all these years they still had intimacy. She’d lost so much with him, time and memories, but she hadn’t lost that at least.

I winked at her and headed out. Even if the car was cold, I’d start toward town and give them some quiet. Half of me ached that they didn’t have many other people in their lives. But I was relieved to be away. I loved my father, even though he never came to peace with who I was. Maybe that’s why seeing him like this bothered me so much. It was a reminder that I would never get his acceptance.

I drew a breath. The past couldn’t be changed, and I had to take care of me now. That meant keeping my remorse over what happened to him balanced with healthy things.

Things like having Max near me.

The night sucked the warm glow from the cabin windows into the growing darkness as I drove toward town.

Toward Max.

A half hour passed before I turned onto Main Street, the main thoroughfare cluttered with every business required to satisfy the immediate needs of a mountain community. On the left, beyond the shops, was the Inlet. The right, a few houses scattered across the uneven hillside, reaching away from the road.

In Ember Lake, all life happened on Main Street.

Max and I had agreed to meet at Smithy’s, the local coffee and ice cream bar. A single car parked in front of the building betrayed Max. He was late again.

I pulled in and headed inside for coffee and an overdue conversation. In all honesty, I was sort of glad Max wasn’t here yet; it would give me time to catch up with a lifelong friend.

Smithy made the best damn coffee in Ember Lake; it didn’t matter that Smithy’s was the only place in Ember Lake that served coffee except for the gas station. Plus, the gas station was technically outside the village limits.

“Hey, Kai,” Smithy greeted me with a perpetual warm smile. “Chocolate Mocha?” Smithy knew my drink even after almost two years since the last time I saw him. Some people had bartenders who knew everything about them. I had Smithy and his knowledge of my inclination toward sweeter blends. This wasn’t about fitting gay stereotypes; this was about enjoying the beautiful experience of a perfectly roasted mocha.

“Yes, sir,” I beamed back, giving him a quick hug over top the counter. He had to stretch; his stomach had grown since I’d last seen him.

Smithy was in his 50s and had owned the shop as long as I could remember. He was also the sole employee of the shop. Smithy never got away. That’s why everyone considered him an icon in town. The man was a rock. As I hugged him, his bulbous shoulders were solid, his grip, crushing. Smithy still shaved his head. I don’t think he ever had hair. Most amazing of all about Smithy, for a man who ran a coffee and ice cream shop, was the fact that he had the most gorgeous set of teeth I’d ever seen on anyone. They were straight, square, and bone white. He was handsome for an older man. If I was into men his age, he’d be a target.

I stood at the counter while he made the drink. I was the only customer in the place except for a woman who sat in the corner, typing away on a laptop. She didn’t look like the type of hardened person who lived in a place like this. It takes a certain level of fortitude to be a mountain person and she wasn’t carved to fit that mold. A professional blogger? Her midnight hair was straight and fell well past her shoulders. She was slim and fit. Her skin was dark. Whoever she was, she definitely wasn’t someone I expected to see in Ember Lake.

Smithy steamed my coffee, stirring it before moving to the back bar and adding his custom cream design, which was nothing more than the shop’s iconic logo. He did it all within seconds, perfect and clean. Every single time. “Thanks,” I said as I took my mug. “How’s business been?”

Smithy smiled. He always smiled. “Decent enough,” he answered. Waving at the empty room, he continued, “Little slow right now, but it’s offseason and getting close to the evening. You know folks aren’t going to be out past dark. Especially with the first snow supposedly rolling in.”

“Yeah, it’s rolling in behind me,” I commented. “That’s why I came into town today. My boyfriend is coming up and I’m going to meet up with him. Wasn’t planning on it, but Mom wanted me back at the cabin before the storm hit.”

Smithy nodded, his smile tightening. Something was wrong. “Was it snowing already up at their place?”

“Yeah.”

Now the smile slipped completely.

“You need to head on back to your cabin, son.” He nodded at the woman, “I’m about to tell her to start packing up too. You and I? We can catch up after the white night.”

This wasn’t like Smithy at all. Throughout my teens when I bought coffee and ice cream—I was a boy who could eat anything—I’d routinely stay past closing time. He never minded. But people changed and Smithy wasn’t getting younger. Maybe he was just tired?

“I swear your sign said you closed at 6?” I asked.

Smithy stepped back from the bar, running a hand over that slick dome of a skull. “Yeah, I need to get that changed. Just don’t have time to get down to Olympia to get it done. Figure it’s easier to tell people.”

I was confused but tried to not let it show. I didn’t want to interrupt the woman from whatever she was working on. This was Smithy’s store; he could do whatever he wanted, even if it meant closing early and losing out on business. It’s not like my four-dollar cup of coffee was going to make a difference in his ability to feed himself tomorrow. The only issue was Max.

“How much longer are you going to stay open?” I asked. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend. We agreed to meet here.” The woman on the laptop stopped typing; I felt her eyes on me even without having to look at her.

Smithy almost looked sad, his smile turning into a slight frown. “Soon, son. I’m sorry, but it’s the first snow.”

“First snow?” I watched him. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

Smithy paused and then nodded toward the front windows of the store, out where my car was parked next to this woman’s. Beyond that, the street was quiet. No one was walking. No vehicles passed by. I hadn’t noticed it on my way in because I was focused on Max and my family. But the way Smithy was acting made me feel uneasy. His need to close early had me imagining all sorts of apocalyptic scenarios.

But this wasn’t the apocalypse; this was a mountain town with mountain people who worked hard and spent most of their time at home with their families. I figured since this was Christmas week that’s exactly what everyone in Ember Lake was doing.

“I’m not sure what you’re —” I started as I turned back toward Smithy, only to notice he was no longer behind the bar but making his way around it, toward the front window. The black haired woman now watched him unashamedly. He stood in front of the window, arms crossed, checking as much of the sky as his shop’s awning allowed.

“First snow. The white night is coming,” Smithy said. It was a dark comment, full of foreboding.

Or maybe misery over the coming months of cold, I thought. Ember Lake’s warmer weather meant a fatter bank account. The cold months had to be tight for his wallet.

“Can I stay here until Max shows up?” I asked.

Smithy didn’t turn around. Erect, he kept standing there, arms crossed. Whatever had his attention, it had it completely. I began to think he was going to ignore the question. This wasn’t the Smithy I used to know. If I left, I could drive around town finding a cell signal. It was an option, but one that would deprive me of catching up with a friend I hadn’t seen in too long.

Smithy shook his head back and forth, not saying a word. I couldn’t tell if he was shaking his head in answer to me or at this strange revulsion over some snow.

Smithy then shocked me. Without looking at either of us, he told the woman, “I’m going to need you to pack up your things. Going to close up shop.”

The woman scowled but began gathering her loose notes spread across the small table.

I moved closer, leaning in to whisper, “What’s going on, Smithy? Is everything okay?”

He squared up to me. When I looked into his eyes I saw an abyss. “First snow is comin’ and you best be getting home. Get inside. Stay inside. It’s going to be a dangerous one. No one needs to be out when the white night comes. Even you.”

“Smithy, I need to wait for Max. I get it if I can’t stay here, I’ll head over to the gas station. I’m not going home. But I’m more worried about you. Are you okay?”

One sharp shake of his head. “Don’t head to the gas station, don’t head anywhere. Get yourself home, son. And ma’am,” he turned and acknowledged the woman, “same goes for you. Wherever you’re going, get there. And get there soon. I failed both of you.” He returned his gaze to me. “Failed both of you, I did. Now.”

“Smithy,” I laughed, “what are you talking about? You didn’t fail us. And, in case you forgot, I’ve been up here in the winter before, you know that. Remember how Dad used to make me drive in the snow to get used to it? I went off the road into your front yard. Tore up your bushes. Remember? A little snow isn’t going to be a problem for me.”

Smithy stared at me. The woman was done packing her things up and turned sideways to get by me, out the door. I watched her go. She fumbled with her car fob, dropped it, and disappeared behind her car as she bent to retrieve it.

I turned to Smithy. “See what you did? You made a nervous wreck out of her. She’s probably going to drive like hell out of town, back to wherever she came from. She gets in an accident, that’s on you.”

Smithy nodded. “Better an accident away from Ember Lake than sticking around here. You need to get going, son.” He turned away and mumbled. “Before the evil wakes.”

I shook my head, unsure if I’d heard him correctly. “I’ll go, but I would rather you tell me you had some hot date lined up. No need to be acting all weird.”

Smithy moved behind the counter powering down the signs, lights, and equipment. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew what was coming.”

“What? What’s coming?”

Still distracted by closing down the store and collecting his cash drawer and receipts, Smithy shook his head, not making eye contact. “The white night son. Things—things happen in Ember Lake. Have been for the last couple years. No one knows how or why, but that doesn’t change this or that.” He fumbled the cash bag, dropping it. Disappearing below the counter to retrieve it, he slapped the bag on the counter in frustration when he reappeared. His stare made me fidget. “There’s an ancient evil coming, Kai. Always does on the first snow. You need to get somewhere safe, son. And this coffee shop isn’t it. Go.”

I zipped up my jacket. “Okay,” I said, not trying to push him. Smithy looked frayed. “I’m going. I don’t imagine you’re going to be open tomorrow, with it being Christmas. So have yourself a good one, Smithy. I’ll see you again before I head out of town.”

Smithy stopped. “I mean it, Kai,” his stern voice removed all ambiguity. “Call that boyfriend of yours and tell him to turn around and head back to Olympia or wherever he’s from. And if he insists on making it out here, you get in that car of yours and go right back down the mountain, stopping him on your way if you have to.”

I would have laughed but this wasn’t a joke. Not to Smithy. I didn’t think it was funny either. It was time to leave.

A brutal chill in the air struck me as soon as I pulled open the door. The temperature had dropped since I left my parent’s cabin. The sharp smell of snow, stinging and chilling, hung in the dying day. It seared into my nostrils. The storm would be here soon.

“The first flakes,” Smithy gasped, suddenly at my shoulder. I could smell the fear on him.

Then he shoved me into the storm. I turned to see Smithy shivering, his eyes wide. “Call your boyfriend and get back to that cabin! Get back before it comes,” he shouted through the door.

I stood outside watching him run behind the counter, tuck the cash bag under his arm, and dash into the back of the store. “Crazy,” I shook my head before stealing a second to smell the air. There’s nothing as satisfying as the brisk smell of winter air that hinted at the arrival of snow.

I was in the middle of setting my phone in the carriage suctioned to the front window when Smithy’s pickup truck surged up the incline of the driveway. Without yielding, he pulled into the road. These weren’t the actions of a reasonable man. It was snow. Nothing more. He was a damn native.

But he wasn’t reasonable, was he?

Smithy’s behaviors made me think of Max. He wasn’t a native. His world was one of cultivated roadways and mass transit, not narrow mountain roads and black ice. Throw in the oppressive darkness of the night sky without city light illumination, compound it with the driving snow, and it would be nearly impossible for Max to make his way into town. Max wasn’t made that way. He’d never make it to the cabin, not without us having a huge fight when he did arrive. I should have told him I would see him after Christmas, but I missed him as soon as I pulled away from our apartment and wanted to be together for the holiday.

I pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the grocery store. There were a few cars parked there. People doing last-minute grocery runs for their Christmas meals. I could wait him out in here.

But the doors didn’t open when I stepped on the mat. I moved off it and tried again. They remained closed.

“Shit.” I peered inside. Sparse security lights illuminated strategic parts of the store. Closed, even though the sign said it would be open for another five hours. Like Smithy’s. Now I was going to have to figure out where to meet Max. With my options narrowing, I might have to drive down the mountain to catch him on his way up. But doing that would keep me out in the weather. At least I could squeeze in another episode of my favorite thriller podcast, Subject: Found.

Two voices sounded from around the corner of the building. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but nothing about the evening was normal.

Faced with a slew of unattractive options, I decided I was going to see what I could find out from whoever owned those voices.

Two employees, a woman and a man in their early 20s, strode out a side door. They stood close together. The female was busy locking up while her male counterpart hung close, watching her while taking quick glances around the parking lot. My appearance startled him.

“Jesus!” he exclaimed. His tone frightened the woman. She screamed, spinning, her eyes wide. The man held a hand across his chest. “Fuck man, you scared the shit out of me.”

I held my hands up in apology. “I’m sorry about that. Are … are you closed?”

The two glanced at each other before she answered, “Yeah. What … what are you doing out?”

Their expressions made it clear this wasn’t something to laugh off, even if her question sounded ridiculous. What the hell was going on with everyone? “I’m meeting someone and was hoping I could wait for them here.”

The man looked at me like I was standing in the cold, naked as the day I was born. “We’re closed, dude. Remember? The first snow?” He made the last comment sound like it should explain everything.

“Yeah, I get that,” I answered. This was probably the last chance I was going to get tonight to get any help with waiting for Max. It wouldn’t hurt to at least ask. “Any chance you’d let me do some shopping?”

“Are you crazy?” the woman asked. “You need to get the hell out of here.”

“Why?”

The man’s lips moved wordlessly as if I’d stunned him. Turning to the woman, he said, “Janie, we need to go.”

“I know.” Janie finished locking up.

The window of opportunity was closed.

The man turned to me, his tone bordered between male aggression and hidden vulnerability. “Look, dude, I don’t know what your deal is, but you need to leave. Go back down to Olympia, or Tacoma, or wherever the hell you came from. I don’t really care. But leave us alone. We’re not to gonna get caught out here. Not for you. Not for no one.”

Janie, for her part, was more sympathetic. “You’re not from here, are you?”

The man moved to his car. He paused at his open door. “Janie, come on. Seriously.” His voice shook.

When the woman named Janie looked at me again there was a marked sadness in her eyes. I knew I only had seconds of her attention left. “Please, I don’t know what’s going on, but … my boyfriend is coming up. We were going to meet him at Smithy’s, but that got weird … he kicked me out and closed early. If you’re closed too, I—”

She looked on the verge of crying. “You shouldn’t meet him here or anywhere. The —” she lowered her voice, “the first snow is coming.”

What the fuck was everyone talking about?

“The white night.” Tears filled her eyes. Stunned, I wanted to tell her I was sorry even though I didn’t know what I was apologizing for. But she was already racing to her own car. Her coworker saw her running and hopped into his, slamming the door and peeling out of the parking lot. Within seconds, her car joined the race, kicking up loose clouds of snow and leaving me alone on the side of an empty grocery store with no clue what was happening.

“The white night?” I headed to my car, checking my cell phone signal, hoping for a sliver of a chance to call Max.

There! Two bars. Enough for a call. I launched my phone app and punched in Max’s name. I don’t think I breathed until I heard the phone ring.

“Hello?” Max’s quivering voice was distorted by noise. Wind, maybe?

“Hey babe, is everything okay? I wanted to call you—”

“I can’t get through. They’re making us turn around,” Max whined. The urge to save him from everything was overwhelming.

“What? Who?”

“Fuck if I know. State troopers? Sheriffs?” His anger was a facade for his fear. “I was going to try to get back into the Hoodsport and see if I could get enough of a signal to pull up my GPS. See if there’s a way around.”

I sighed. There wasn’t, and I told him so. Turning around would only take him farther away from me.

“What you want me to do?” Max bit. I let it pass.

“Can you ask them to let you through?”

A battering of strong wind cut off his reply. Something else, a piercing sound, lay in the deep background, well underneath the interrupting sound of wind.

“Max? Are you there?”

When I heard his voice again, it sounded scratchy, distant. Only broken phrases came through. “Not likely … Closed … An accident … Cops …”

“Max?” I shouted as if that would make it easier for him to hear me. “Max, are you there?”

“Messy … Something … Flying … Telling us … Abandon …”

Abandon? Abandon what? “Max? Are you there?”

“Running … Oh, my God!”

And then he was gone. The phone, dead. I still had two bars.

“Max? Max!”

I looked around the parking lot as if it was going to provide me with the guidance I needed. Max sounded panicked. Frightened. And what was he talking about? What was he supposed to abandon and what was that comment about running? Without an idea of where he was or what he needed, I was helpless.

And I was alone. The entire town felt vacant. No stores opened. The dark interiors of the houses on Main Street sent clear signals that my troubles weren’t welcomed. Under normal conditions, it was thirty minutes to my parent’s cabin. Tonight, with the snow rolling over the area, it’d be an hour, at least. They couldn’t help.

Max was out there alone, and I was helpless. The possibilities of what might be happening to him chilled my skin more than the freezing night air.

Fuck the storm. I could drive in the snow, even with my sports coupe. I would have to be careful, but Max needed me. That was the only thing that mattered.

 

***

 

Ten miles outside of town, the snow blanketed the frozen landscape around me. The conditions forced me to take it slow, though my heart pushed me forward faster. The lack of tire tracks on either side of the road was disorienting, making the winding road over the mountain difficult to navigate. As difficult as navigating my way through a struggling relationship. The indented layer of snow to my right informed me of the ditch hidden there, a cautionary guide. Without a shoulder, I had little room for error. Night had fallen. The cloud-covered sky spewed millions of snow pellets curving toward my windshield. I stayed near the middle of the unmarked road to remain safe. But mile after mile, with no traffic coming the other way, my fear grew. What I was seeing was an aftermath of the events of that phone call.

Another fifteen minutes I wrapped around the mountainside and saw red and blue dancing off the snowscape. Pulling my foot off the gas, I drifted to a stop. Those lights belonged to police cruisers. An accident?

My throat seized when I came around the bend.

Two police cruisers barricaded the road, crisscrossing the narrow lanes to prevent traffic from getting through. There were no cars in front of me so I was able to pull up to them as close as I dared. For some reason, I felt safer being in their presence.

Until I got out of the car.

The night held an uncomfortable weight, urging me to turn around and head back to my parents’ cabin. A sense of growing dread sank into the pit of my stomach. Those lights flashed blue and red in an alternating silent dance. Shadows flashed across the hillside to my right and against the trees to my left, where the hillside dropped away toward the lake.

The cruisers stood alone. No accompanying cops.

“Hello?” I called out. Only the wind answered me and it wasn’t willing to help. “Can you hear me?”

Dread washed over me as the snow hit my face. It wasn’t icy and harsh like it had been when it started falling, but wet and cold. The flakes were getting bigger; that meant a true storm was rolling in off the ocean. And when storms hit, Ember Lake shut down. I needed to find Max and get the hell back to the cabin.

But it was hard to keep my cool when it felt like I’d stepped into a dead world.

Shielding my eyes against the snow, I approached the police cruisers. The flashing lights prevented me from seeing much of anything. The world beyond them was pitched into complete darkness. I shielded my eyes to make out as much as I could. It was too quiet here. Too devoid of life. When I got within a few feet of the cruisers I wish I’d never had seen anything at all. I should have stayed in my car or even listened to the two employees at the grocery store. Or Smithy. I should have never left the cabin.

The passenger side door of the nearest cruiser was open. The dome light was out, pitching details into obscurity. What I could see made me thankful to be as blinded as I was.

A police officer’s limp body slumped halfway through the open door window. Dead.

“Oh my God,” I groaned. A dark pool of blood shadowed the bottom of the door.

Putting a hand to my mouth, I glanced at the other cruiser. Two police cruisers meant at least two officers. One wouldn’t allow the other to suffer like that.

Unless something happened to him as well.

Moving backward, one methodical step behind the other, I kept an eye on the dead officer. The irrational part of my brain watched for signs of reanimation. Nothing about this entire experience was rational.

Fortunately for me, not the cop, he didn’t move.

I glanced over my shoulder as I backed up. Snowflakes reflecting red and blue lights weren’t helping. I was exposed. Vulnerable. I couldn’t see anything beyond what was immediately in front of me. But if whatever had killed the cop was out there it could most likely see me. The only thing that stopped me from scurrying to safety was the fact that Max was out there, beyond those cruisers.

It was the thought of Max that held me together.

Until I saw the second cop.

Vomit curled in my throat at what remained of him. Strewn across the hood of his car, a half torso, identifiable as a human only by the torn uniform. A display, a testament to the evil lurking in the blackness. I gulped for oxygen as I began crying. I’d never seen a dead body ever before. In the last minute, I’d seen two.

But this … this was beyond imaginable.

A human body torn in two?

Unsure if I was trying to satiate my morbidity or not, I looked at the ground in front of the cruiser for the officer’s lower half.

“Max …” I groaned a reminder. I needed to get to Max.

My instincts screamed against my sudden decision to go back to the officer slumped through the cruiser’s window. I thought I saw a holster on him. If he had a holster, he might still have his weapon.

Fortune smiled through the black. His right side was exposed, the holstered weapon still there. I reached out with a shaking hand I couldn’t control. When my fingers wrapped around the pistol grip I gave it a yank, ready for his cold hand to slap down on mine.

Somewhere in the blackness, a horrendous screech ripped through the storm, a pitch outside the human range. A screech from the depths of hell.

I pissed down my pant leg.

The holster refused to release. I yanked harder. My chest heaved with exertion and a primal plea to flee.

Then I saw it. A leather strap between the grip and the hammer held the gun in the holster. Stupid. With a simple snap, I pulled the gun free, blindly aiming it into the darkness. I had no idea where that screech came from, no idea even what I was aiming at.

The gun felt heavier than I imagined it would. This was the first time I’d held one and didn’t know how to aim the damn thing. I saw people on television closing an eye when they shot but I never knew what they were actually looking at when they did that. This wasn’t the time to learn either. I’d aim the best I could because I had to.

I moved through the narrow gap between the cruisers. I wanted as many obstacles between me and the thing that had done this as possible.

A long line of cars stretched down the hill. The traffic that Max was tied up in. Was he in it, waiting to get to me? But Max wouldn’t do that. He was stubborn but he wasn’t stupid. Something had happened to those cops and Max wouldn’t have waited around to figure out what it was. The bravest thing he’d ever done was agree to move in with me, and that took a year of effort. The driver’s door of the first car in line was open, the dome light illuminating the empty interior. A popular rap song thumped from the speakers.

The next car was also empty. It’s engine, like the one in front of it, still running.

Car after car, I made my way down the line. Each vehicle was running as if their drivers were expected to return soon. My hope for Max grew. His car wasn’t in the line. I passed at least forty vehicles without seeing his. Each vehicle, empty.

But that feeling crumbled toward the end of my search. Max’s Infiniti sat near the end of the line.

Empty.

I scrambled to it, searching the back seats, hoping he was sleeping. I knew better, knew I wouldn’t find him. But I searched just the same. It was futile.

How had everyone disappeared into the night? Did the deaths of those two cops have something to do with the disappearances of so many people, including Max?

Wait. Not finding him meant he was alive, didn't it? Besides the shredded cop and his limp partner, there were no signs of struggles around any of these other vehicles. So everyone must have fled after word spread down the line of what happened to the cops. And the narrow road didn’t give them space to turn their vehicles around to flee. They would have been forced to run. So, if Max’s car was in this line, I could take solace in the fact that he was out there in the night, somewhere.

Then I heard the screech again. My heart stopped beating.

I didn’t think it through. I didn’t mean to abandon hope of Max. But I was out in the open and there was something unnatural above me in the black night sky. I was alone.

I turned and sprinted back toward my car.

I was halfway up the hill when it rang out again. My skin prickled and my spine went rigid with a sharp tingle. Distant, that sound still pierced my psyche. Nothing from nature sounded like that. My thighs burned, the accumulating snow on the road making the uphill sprint difficult. As it deepened, my footing slipped more often than not. I almost fell on my face, catching myself, stinging my hand in the process.

The dancing red and blue lights beckoned me forward, encouraging me when I didn’t need it. Somehow I knew, whatever made that sound was responsible for the disappearances of all these people and the deaths of those two cops.

The screech cut through the night, this time much closer. I spun, raising the gun into the blackness hidden behind the driving snow. Above the trees, a rhythmic beat that sounded like a single bass drum being struck in time. At first, it was low, barely audible behind the wind, but second-after-second, it grew in volume and density. It wasn’t a drum.

It was … wings.

Massive wings. Flying toward me.

The screech sliced through the night, this time above me. I fell to the ground, covering my head. The tree branches shook. From my new vantage point, the world had grown larger. The cars now provided more shelter from the storm as I lay in the snow, wishing I could disappear.

The wings beat on, passing by as if the thing was surveying the area beyond just this part of the mountain pass.

I needed to make a break for the car. I could use these vehicles as shelter. The close mountainside protected me, ignoring the reality that something had frightened all these motorists into the night and they had been in the same situation as I now was. My car was another hundred yards away. I needed to get to it. It would get me to town and a stronger cell signal. Worse case, I’d have to call Max when I got back to the cabin.

I refused to acknowledge my cowardice.

Without another thought, I stood and sprinted uphill. Fifty yards. The thumping was growing again. That demon in the sky was coming back. It called out, the high-pitched screech mixing with an animalistic growl.

Thirty yards.

The beast swooped down close enough to beat air against my face. I glanced up but couldn’t see it.

There was something besides the beating of the wings.

Rushing of air.

Something fell out of the sky toward me. I dodged the blackened shape, barely moving before it hit the road with a wet thump.

A carcass.

I retched right there in the middle of the road, staring down at the remains of a human being. I couldn’t tell if it was male or female. There was no head, both feet were missing, and the chest cavity was ripped open. Bones encased in chunks of meat jutted out in a grotesque proclamation of a feast enjoyed. The open chest looked emptied of its organs.

Tearing my eyes away from that obliterated corpse, I ran, slipped, and got to my feet again. My thighs felt like knives were being thrust into the most vulnerable weaves of sinew. Between the physical exhaustion and mental terror, I couldn’t catch my breath. Slipping again, I tried to focus on my only hope for escape. My car.

The wind howled as it split around the mountain, a burst weaving its way down the tight confines of the road. Tree branches cracked in protest as the night howled its rage. I didn’t notice the cold anymore.

The screech sounded, moving away. In that sliver of hope, I found renewed energy. Ignoring my burning muscles, ignoring the thick queasiness below my rib cage, I surged ahead, dashing between the police cruisers. There was a brief respite when I yanked open my car door and jumped in the driver seat. The car roared to life, blaring Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer into the tight interior. Panicked, I ignored it as I backed up to a driveway marked with reflective light sticks. I aimed for the smooth white lane between those two markers, trying to suffocate the anticipation of hearing that screech again.

Seconds sludged by, urging me to move quicker, but I denied the temptation. I tried focusing my thoughts on my family and the love of my life. They anchored my fading sanity.

How many more times would Dad ask Mom when we were going home? Did she even feel alive with him anymore? Would Dad’s innocent repetition distract her from worrying about why I wasn’t home with Max yet? Where was Max? Was he someplace warm? Safe? My poor mother. She would be an angel if angels were real. Poor Max. Putting up with me. Loving me like he did. Does.

Thinking about them helped me keep an even, safe speed heading back into town. Haste would put me in a ditch, forcing me back out into the night, exposed to that terror in the sky.

I tried to stave off the tears for Max. There was no way I could help him if I was stranded or worse, but that didn’t do much for the pain of knowing he was out there, lost and freezing.

Hopefully, he stayed with the other motorists.

Hopefully, he had someone to help him where I couldn’t.

The streets in town were completely empty. The houses that hugged the road were dark. My familiarity with the town was the only thing that made navigating the streets possible. The deepening snow blanketed everything, covering the road, making it indistinguishable from the sidewalks. The soft orange glow from the streetlights made this all the stranger.

Keeping a firm grip on the wheel, I pulled up my phone, hoping against hope that I’d get a break and a signal. The indicator displayed two bars again. I swallowed. Careful to avoid putting myself into a skid, I slowed to a stop, dialing Max’s number. It rang six times before going to voicemail. I called again. Voicemail.

Throwing my head against the headrest, I began crying. Even a simple phone call might have made the difference.

I tried one more time. This time I left a voicemail.

“Max, honey, it’s me,” I cried. “Please pick up. It’s me, baby. Please. I—I haven’t heard from you. Please, please call me as soon as you get this. I … I just need to know you’re okay.” I ignored how desperate I must have sounded. Desperation served the moment.

But then my thoughts were ripped from my mind. Ahead, the snow-covered road exploded, a cloud of white erupting into the air. I put the car in reverse in case I needed to make an escape from whatever was happening in front of me.

An escape to where? half of my broken mind laughed. A dark form emerged in that cloud as the snow settled.

The creature was hard to make out between the street lights and heavy snow, but I could see enough to tell that it was over eight feet tall. Its long arms reached well past its knees, past thighs three times thicker than its calves, twice as thick as a human’s torso. The creature’s legs would have reminded me of a mountain goat’s legs if they weren't so massive.

As the cloud surrounding it was blown away, the monstrosity became clearer. It shook itself, clumps of snow falling off in small frozen pieces. Then, straightening its back, the beast stretched out its massive wings.

Something inside the car whimpered.

I was still alone.

The wingspan of this monster was at least 30 feet.

I didn’t think to move. I didn’t think to back up and try to race away. There was no way to get away from something like that, not in these conditions. If I tried it would chase me down. I slowly reached over to make sure the car doors were locked, doubting it would do anything to stop this beast.

The gun.

Without taking my eyes off that thing, I searched the passenger seat. When my hand wrapped around the grip, I pulled the gun into my lap, feeling a sense of confidence I didn’t deserve.

The creature stepped toward me, tufts of soft snow exploded with each powerful foot it planted. All I could see was a dark outline of a demon from hell. Somehow, I knew that thing could see me.

The wind whipped around my car, howling through the tiny seams as if this beast controlled the weather too and was trying to shatter my mind.

It stopped, standing taller and beating its wings as it tilted its head towards the sky and loosed a horrendous screech. Even at this distance, through my sealed vehicle, I winced. The sound was so loud, so clear, it was as if I was standing outside next to it.

Covering my ears, I refused to let go of the pistol. The pain was excruciating. My teeth rattled. It felt like someone was prying into my ear canal with a stake.

The screech went on and on.

And then it was gone, cut off as quickly as it started.

For a brief moment, I heard nothing but the promise of a truce. It had left. I shivered, just me and the power of nature as the first snow blew through Ember Lake.

I’d survived. The thing had let me live.

My car shook in rhythm with the thumping of the demon’s wings. Pulling my hands away from my ears, I risked a look up. The creature had lifted itself off the ground. There, in the middle of Ember Lake’s Main Street, this beast of hell hovered ten feet off the ground, facing me. Behind its darkened face, I imagined it examining me. I felt violated. As if it wanted me to watch, the beast turned and flew into the night.

I waited as the thumping of its wings faded. Sitting in my car for what felt like an eternity, I was unable to think or move. What was that thing and why did it spare me?

When it had killed others.

Had it spared Max too?

Whatever the answer, I was alive and it was gone. But it might be back. I had to get to safety. But where was safety?

Then I remembered what Smithy told me. He told me to get inside, to get out of the white night. He knew! He knew what was going to happen and instead of explaining the horrors that waited in the storm, he served cryptic warnings to save himself. Was the white night the same reason my mother urged me to get to Max?

My mother.

I had to get home to them. That thing might come back and, when it did, it wasn’t going to find me sitting here, a sacrifice.

Putting the car in drive, I gunned the engine; the tires spun. For a second, I thought I was stranded. Maybe the demon anticipated that. That was why it left, to go kill more difficult prey, saving me for later because it knew I was stuck?

Throwing the car into first gear, I tried again, breathing once more when the familiar sound of snow crunching under tires told me that I’d succeeded. The car jerked when I reached the place where that thing launched itself into the night. Its powerful flapping had cleared a broad swathe of snow from the road. In fact, as far ahead as I could see, the gray surface of blacktop carved through the white world around it.

Within a few minutes, I was driving up the mountain, the town—and Max—falling behind me.

I felt guilty about leaving Max, but there was nothing I could do for him. Not with my car, not with this small pistol. Once I got back to the cabin I would try to call him. Even if Max didn’t answer, I could take Dad’s truck and his guns. I’d be ready and capable of saving him then.

I had a plan. There was something I could do.

So why was I bothered?

Then: clarity.

A disturbing thought no more.

The road was clear of snow except for the fresh dusting falling from the sky. Completely clear. From the spot where that monstrosity faced me down in the middle of town to all the way out here.

Just for me.

It made no sense. The town bunkered down against the storm. Only me and that thing were out in the elements.

It had cleared the road.

Why?

I couldn’t deny what I was seeing. Blacktop cleared of all but the newest dusting of snow. I picked up speed, dismissing the obvious problem in my urgency to make sure my parents were safe and to prepare for my search for my boyfriend. Urgency required speed.

Gripped by fear, I pushed the gas down and pushed myself through the apprehension of being too risky. I was less than a mile away from the cabin when I noticed the end of the cleared road. It stopped just behind my turn-off. The demon was done doing me any favors.

It didn’t matter; I was almost home.

Using the trees that lined the road as a guide, I navigated up the path to the cabin.

Halfway up, the car got stuck. The only way I was getting to my parents was on foot. Mentally exhausted, I got out.

As I opened the door that horrific screech filled the night air again.

This time I didn’t cower. My parents needed me.

The creature was here. Close.

“No!” I pulled the pistol up and aimed at everything and nothing at the same time. This far out into the mountains there was no artificial light. Here, the world was untouched, untainted by mankind. The night was at its blackest. I couldn’t see anything except the few feet in front of me. The single light glowing in the living room was my only guide. The blackness cloaked the demon.

I found the energy to slip and slide my way up the driveway. I couldn’t hear anything over top of my breathing, but once I bounded up the stairs I noticed how silent the night was.

Too silent.

Branches cracked back down the hill. I spun, aiming the gun where I thought I’d heard the noise.

Nothing moved on the ground, but the night sky was alive with malevolence.

Close, but distorted by wind cutting through the forest, the thumping of the creature’s wings filled the night. Slow and methodical, they beat against the cold air.

It was here and it was on the other side of the cabin.

I reached out for the door handle. It seized up and my mind imagined all the horrible ways I was going to die at the hands of this beast. My chest relaxed when I cranked on the handle and it spun. The door popped open, rubbing against the uneven floor. I jumped inside, slamming and locking it.

My mother sat in the same chair I left her in, staring at me as if I was a madman.

How had she not heard anything going on? Why wasn’t she half as frightened as I was? “Mom,” I huffed, “are you okay?”

She smiled, setting her knitting aside. “Of course I am, honey. But you look like you’ve seen the devil.”

Had I?

“Mom, something, something happened. Is the back door … the windows … are they locked?”

A quizzical, half-humored, look passed over her face. “Heavens no, honey. Why?”

How could I tell her about the horrors I’d seen? Dad’s accident had robbed her of more than her share of a normal life. I dashed across the cabin to the back door, throwing the deadbolt. A sense of security came with the pleasant sound of the metal cylinder sliding into the lock. My heart stopped thudding so forcefully that it no longer moved my rib cage. Taking deep breaths, I tried to control my heavy breathing. Mom didn’t need to be upset. She didn’t need to know. I would stay up all night if I needed to, making sure my parents were safe. In the morning, if we survived, we’d leave. No matter how much snow the white night dumped on the world.

The door had six small windows framed in it. I backed away, feeling too exposed. Standing inside the cabin meant that whatever might be out there could see me and I couldn’t see it.

Something thudded on the deck. The window in the kitchen next to me rattled. The lump in my throat caught.

Another booming thud.

The creature was outside.

Reaching as far as I could without moving in front of the door, I flicked on the deck lights …

… and stared into the face of a demon.

Its black, leathery skin was wrinkled and hairless, matching the utter absence of color of the night. The creature stood taller, as it had when it faced me down in the street, filling my view through the door. Its wide mouth opened. I swore that it was smiling. Looking at its gaping maw, its pointed teeth were covered in blood. I whimpered. Chunks of pink meat were caught between some of the teeth. Even without horns, this thing looked like something out of the depths of hell.

It stepped closer, ponderous footfalls splintering the deck, reaching out with its ridiculously long arm. Its fingers were knuckled and jointed in at least three places. Graceless, black nails—claws—extended three inches beyond the ends of its fingers. The nails scratched the iron door handle.

I backed away, raising the gun at the creature, looking into its eyes.

It’s intelligent eyes. Familiar eyes.

Almost human.

The gun shook loose from my grip, thumping to the floor.

Mom called out from the front room. She sounded annoyed, like when I was little and interrupted her shows with my playing. Or all those times since Dad’s accident when he asked her the same question over and over about going home. “What are you doing, Kai? Don’t lock the back door. Your father will be home soon.”

Dad would be coming home? From where? He didn’t go anywhere alone; she didn’t let him. He couldn’t. He hadn’t driven since the accident in the woods. Since his first disappearance. How would he get around? He couldn’t be walking around in the storm; he’d get lost, like all those times before when …

Mom answered my unasked questions as the realization struck. My father never came back out of the mountains after his accident all those years ago.

Something else had.

She said, “He went out to get a bite to eat.”

 

END