Phantom Frost

by Alfred Wurr

  Brad walked over and held out his hand. “Don’t be a dork, Alan,” he said quietly, seemingly unconcerned. For a few tense moments, the two stared at each other. Alan’s face twisted, relaxed, twisted again, then smoothed for the last time. He lowered the weapon, letting it twirl around his finger by the trigger guard, and held it out so that Brad could take it. Brad slipped it into his waistband at the small of his back, then slapped Alan on the shoulder and pulled him into an embrace, pounding his back. “Let it go, bro. How would I explain you shooting them to Mom and Dad?”

  “That was harsh,” Caleb said, eyes wide, looking around as if for a bucket into which to throw up. “Totally looked like you were going to waste ’em.”

  “Not even,” Alan said, waving his hand dismissively. “Seriously,” he added, seeing skeptical expressions on the faces around him.

  “Whatever,” Brad said. “Come on, find something to tie ’em up. I’ll keep an eye on them.”

  “I’ll search their truck,” Alan said, heading for the Bronco. A few moments later, the radio went silent as he shut off the engine.

  “Caleb, I swear, don’t light that shit,” Brad said, shaking his head slowly. “I need you sharp.”

  “Just a short puff to calm my nerves,” Caleb muttered, tossing a match to the ground. A cloud of marijuana smoke drifted away on the wind. He looked at me, avoiding Brad’s gaze. “You going to keep that?”

  I glanced down and pulled the gun from my armpit by the barrel.

  “Wait, don’t touch it,” Lucy said, running to the van. She returned a moment later, opening a paper bag. “Put it in here. Fingerprints,” she explained, rolling it closed, “for the police.”

  “Shivurr touched it already,” Caleb said, taking another puff.

  “No fingerprints,” I said, holding up my free hand.

  “Lil, hon, get my camera.” Lucy pointed to the van.

  “What for?”

  “So I can take pictures of them and the scene,” Lucy said. “Evidence, people.”

  The girl returned holding a large Nikon camera. Lucy peeled off the case and snapped on the flash, and the camera whirred and clicked as she moved about. I followed, keeping out of the camera’s eye.

  “How do you know to do all this?” I asked as she laid the guns next to each other and snapped more photos.

  “Lucy loves detective shows,” Lilith said, walking to the van. “Cop shows, mystery novels. Especially girl detectives.”

  “She’s my Angel,” Brad said, walking past, holding a coil of rope that he’d pulled from the roof of the van. He smiled at her. “Looks like one, too.”

  A smile blossomed on Lucy’s face, but she kept taking pictures without responding.

  “Get a room,” Lilith said, rolling her eyes. A moment later, the pop music died as she hit the stop button on the ghetto blaster.

  The wind, crickets, and crackle of the fire mixed with the sounds of the group hustling about, securing the robbers. Now and again one of them would glance in my direction, as if expecting me to be gone like a mirage or figment of their collective imagination. I pretended not to notice and looked out over the crater, its depths lost in the inky void of the night’s shadows.

  Occasionally, flashes from Lucy’s camera disturbed the darkness as she finished documenting the scene. I half expected to see monsters in those flashes of light, skittering from the abyss to drag me and my companions back down to their lair to be devoured.

  I snorted to myself, appreciating in that moment the shock my companions must have felt when I’d first appeared, and maybe still did. I was something completely unheard of by most of humanity. Their only points of reference for me were crude, unliving idols—snowmen—sculpted seasonally by children in colder climes. The resemblance seemed weak to me, but I’d heard the comparison enough to accept that that was how they’d see me.

  I wasn’t sure whether these snow sculptures were just a coincidence or something more. Had my kind encountered primitive man ages ago? Were these snow sculptures some sort of vestigial cultural practice, or a deliberate attempt to remind their descendants of something? Whatever the answers, I didn’t know if their familiarity with snowmen allowed the kids to better cope with the seeming impossibility of my appearance or made it worse and more improbable. Whatever the case, pooled with humanity’s widely held belief that they are the only intelligent, sentient life in the universe, my appearing, walking and talking must have threatened to unravel their minds. I could only guess at what they were thinking or how their brains were working to find an explanation that they could accept.

  I thought about leaving the group now that the situation was under control. Maybe they’d explain my appearance away as some sort of collective hallucination, brought on by marijuana and the stress of being mugged. Keep dreaming, I thought, shaking my head ruefully. Leaving isn’t going to help. Besides, I was still in big trouble, and I really needed their assistance. Extra water or other beverages or a ride closer to my next destination could make all the difference in surviving the next few days, so I sipped my soda and waited while they worked. For the time being, I said nothing and hoped that they’d get used to me in time, as my former captors had after years of regular contact. I just hoped that it wouldn’t take that long this time around.

  For those at the research lab, once I had spoken English and become an expert in pop culture, I’d seemed a lot less alien and a lot more approachable. How you speak and act and what you value tends to either set you apart from or connect you to others, even more than what you look like. Sharing culture and ideas and speaking like a native diffused and confused any prejudices they had—it wasn’t enough to make them let me go, but enough to convince them to treat me better, and even for me to make a few friends like Scott, eventually allowing me to escape. Even when a new scientist rotated in, they warmed to me faster after chatting about baseball or something. A guy who shares your interests can’t be all bad, right?

  Until today, I hadn’t met anyone new in years. Seeing the kids’ astonished and bewildered expressions reminded me of what I wanted to forget: to the average person, I’m a freak that’s going to scare the shit out of them. Scared people are dangerous people—if I showed up in a public place, I knew many would either run from or attack me, not stop to chat about their favourite movie—so I needed to stay out of sight. Still, these five hadn’t done either. Instead, they’d shaken my hand and introduced themselves. Maybe we can be friends. In the few years that I could recall being alive, I’d learned that you didn’t get far without a friend or two.

  Fifteen minutes later, the two thugs were tied up with rope scavenged from the van’s roof rack. Lucy had lit a Coleman lantern, which hissed like water on a low boil, casting long shadows across the area. Alan and Caleb dragged the robbers over the dirt and leaned the goons up against the front bumper of the Bronco.

  Our captives woke up a short while later, shouting threats and insults until I stepped into view, tossing frost from hand to hand. They pressed themselves against the truck, staring at me with bulging eyes, as Alan pulled out their pockets. After a few moments of struggle, he stood holding two wallets, out of which he yanked wads of the group’s stolen cash. Lucy took the empty wallets as Alan counted the money. The pictures on their driver’s licenses identified the bearded assailant’s name as Dale Simmons and the other’s as Jack Esterhazy. We moved just out of earshot but kept a watchful eye on the duo.

  “Now what do we do?” asked Lucy, shining one of the large red flashlights that she’d recovered from the van at the ground near the two.

  “Break camp and book it back to Cali,” Brad said, shrugging. “Or do you still want to go to Vegas?”

  “We’ve got to turn them in, don’t we?” Lucy said, frowning. “They’ve probably done this before, maybe even murdered people.”

  “No duh,” Lilith said. She glanced at the highwaymen, flaring her nostrils and curling her lips.

  “There’s a sheriff’s office in Tonopah,” Lucy said. “It�
��s the closest. We can take them there.”

  “Forget that. I’m not getting in the same car with them,” Lilith said, biting her nails. “What if they get loose?”

  “You’re right,” Brad said, nodding. He puffed his cheeks, looking at the bound men. “We’ve got their wallets and ID. We can leave them here, tied up—send the police back to get them.”

  “Any chance of a ride?” I asked, coughing and holding up a hand. “I need to get to Las Vegas, if you’re going.”

  Brad looked at his friends, shining his flashlight at each of them in turn. After a brief pause, Lucy nodded, almost imperceptibly. Lilith looked dubious but said nothing.

  “Tonopah first,” Lucy said. “It’s a lot closer.”

  “Radical,” Alan said, grinning.

  “Awesome,” Caleb agreed.

  “Uh, sure,” Brad said, looking back to me. “Why not?” He strode for the nearest tent. “Okay, dudes. Let’s pack up and jet.”

  Chapter 6

  Tonopah

  We travelled northwest, headed for US Route 6, over rough backcountry roads, more dirt track than formal road. Turning left onto the highway, we continued southwest to Warm Springs, then west, heading for Tonopah, looking to find the sheriff’s office, turn in the highwaymen, and then drive south on State Highway 95 to Las Vegas.

  The van lumbered down the lonely highway as the sun rose behind us. The enclosed space was a welcome relief, trapping the icy chill that I naturally exude and creating a microclimate several degrees cooler than the desert air outside. Still a bit too warm for comfort, it was far better than being outdoors—for me, at least. The rest of our party pulled on jackets and knitted hats shortly after we got underway, once they noticed the chilling effect of my presence.

  My companions were Californians, on a three-week road trip to visit several national parks and landmarks in California, Nevada, Arizona, and Utah, and were therefore equipped for camping in the cool nights of the mountains or the warm weather of lower altitudes.

  Brad, the van’s owner, drove while his girlfriend Lucy rode shotgun. Alan, who I now knew to be Brad’s kid brother, sat in the back seat with his arm around his high school sweetheart, Lilith. His best friend, Caleb, sat next to them while I stood in the middle and leaned against the wall of the van, opposite the sliding door, and watched the desert roll past.

  “So, what happened back there?” I asked. “With those guys?”

  “They drove up about ten minutes before you showed up, while we were roasting marshmallows,” Brad said. “They acted friendly at first, but I had a bad feeling right away. The first guy, Jack, asked us where we were from, where we were going. Once they knew it was just us, they became total dicks, pulling guns, stealing our—”

  “Are you a government experiment or what?” Caleb interjected.

  “Jesus, Caleb,” Alan said, glancing at the ceiling. “Subtle much?”

  “A subject, not a creation,” I said, shaking my head. “They captured me, held me against my will, for several years.”

  “Holy shit,” Caleb replied, bobbing his head vigorously. “Seriously? I was just kidding.”

  “The less you know, the better,” I said, looking out the window as several large trucks flashed by heading east.

  “Oh, come on, dude,” Caleb said, throwing out his hands in supplication.

  “Well, I suppose I can tell you a bit,” I said, stroking my chin.

  For the next few miles, I shared enough of my story to give them an idea of the risks they were taking. I left out names and the details of my quest, saying only that I had been held in a secret facility, had escaped, and was on the run.

  Alan seemed doubtful about my claims of amnesia. “Sure, dude,” he said, snorting softly. “Don’t tell us if you don’t want to.”

  “I think that’s super sad,” Lucy said, reaching over her seat to pat my shoulder.

  “Sad, but true,” I assured her. “It’s okay, though. I’m free now and not going back, ever.”

  “Are we in danger?” Lilith asked, biting her lower lip.

  “I don’t know.” I paused, considering. “I doubt it. They’d probably question you, then let you go with some bullshit story.”

  “But we’ve seen you,” Caleb said. “Won’t they need to silence us?”

  “Once they caught me, no one would believe anything you say about me, not without me as proof. I’d pretty much have to go on network news and answer questions for an hour, and there’d still be people that would say it was a hoax. Anyway, they’ve no idea where I am now. If I keep low, it should stay that way.”

  “It’s the freaking Man,” Caleb said loudly, shaking his head. He pulled a joint from the pocket of his jeans. “Just like I’ve always been saying. Men in freaking black.”

  “Caleb, I told you, don’t smoke that shit in the van,” Brad said, glaring at his younger friend in the rear-view mirror, then looking back at the road. “You should probably ditch it all before we get there. I don’t want the cops finding it.”

  “What about your beer, dude?” Caleb muttered, slipping the joint back into his jeans.

  “I’m over twenty-one, smartass.”

  “Lucy, pass me that roll you took of those men,” Brad said. She rummaged around in her bag and passed it to him. “Is there anything else on it?”

  “No,” Lucy replied. “I put in a fresh roll. I’m not giving them my photos. Not sure about the ones I took of the stars tonight, but I got some nice ones of the crater, I think.” She looked at me. “There’s basically no light pollution out here. It’s perfect for time-lapse shots of the stars.”

  “Astronauts trained there, you know,” Lilith said knowingly, turning her head to me. “For the moon landings.”

  “Cool, I didn’t know that,” I said, even though I did.

  Smiling, Lilith blew a pink bubble with her chewing gum, popping it loudly, and hit play on her boom box. Her long hair swayed gently as she bobbed her head to the beat.

  Despite the early hour, Tonopah was bustling with activity as we drove through. Brad, the group’s apparent academic, explained that the price of silver and gold had risen a few years ago, causing old mines to be reopened. Combined with increased activity at Tonopah Test Range—near which the Bodhi Institute was located—the town boomed with activity. Automobile and foot traffic seemed heavy as the town started its day, especially after the solitude of the desert. The town had the general feel and appearance of an Old West mining camp, which, as Brad explained, was no surprise given that was how it had started out. There was an actual old mine right in town, in fact.

  “Hey, is that a bakery?” Lilith said, pointing with a hand lost in the sleeve of Alan’s too-large sweatshirt. “Can we stop there?”

  “Bakery, eh?” Caleb smirked. “Makes you think—donut?”

  Alan chuckled as Lilith rolled her eyes.

  “Later, after the sheriff’s,” Brad said, looking at Lucy.

  “Right, the sooner we report those men, the better,” Lucy added, pressing her lips together.

  “I’ve got to piss like a racehorse,” Caleb moaned.

  “Careful, Brad,” Alan said. “Caleb’s going to piss his pants again.”

  “Dick,” Caleb said, shoving his friend. “That was ten years ago. I was five years old.”

  “All right, fine,” Brad said, shaking his head. “We need gas anyway.”

  We stopped at a gas station, just past the old Mizpah Hotel, a five-storey salmon-coloured building with a large rooftop sign identifying it in large red letters. Brad gassed up the van while the others went inside to ask for directions to the sheriff’s office, use the restrooms, and stock up on drinks, snacks, and ice. I waited in the van and peeked between the drawn curtains to people watch.

  Caleb returned first, holding a full grocery bag in the crook of his elbow and a drink in the other hand. Brad, having finished pumping gas, gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder as he passed him on his way inside to pay.

  The teen slipped in th
e front passenger door, letting in a blast of heat. Putting the bag on the seat, he slid between it and the driver’s seat to get to the back.

  “Try one of these,” he said, tossing me a cold soda can with Dr Pepper written on the side, the outside of which was moist with slight condensation. “It cures what ails you,” he quipped with a goofy grin.

  “Nice one,” I replied with a nod as he sat down beside me. The can cracked open with a hiss, and I guzzled from it, moaning.

  Caleb ripped open a bag of chips and started digging in. Mouth full, he held out the bag in wordless offer.

  “Sure, why not.” I grabbed a handful, popped them into my mouth and chomped the chips to dust. “Not bad.”

  “Put these Pop Rocks in your mouth,” Caleb suggested, grinning. “Then take a sip of your drink. Gnarly, right?” he said, winking at the look of surprise on my face as the candy buzzed in my mouth. “Where’s my jacket?” he mumbled through a paste of potato chips. “It’s downright chilly in here.”

  “Yeah, right.” I plucked at the fabric of my winter jacket. “I’m freezing my nipples off here.”

  Bits of chips flew across the van as Caleb chortled appreciatively. “Man, these chips are good,” he muttered, stuffing more into his mouth.

  A moment later, the side door slid open a crack. I hugged the wall as Lucy and Lilith slipped inside, also carrying grocery bags. Alan jumped into the front seconds after.

  “All right,” Lucy began, “the sheriff’s office is on the edge of town, apparently. Caleb, if you’re holding, now’s the time to ditch it. We don’t know what’s going to happen when we get there,” she added in a motherly tone.

  “Maybe I should hang out here and you can go without me,” Caleb said, looking pained. “What am I going to do for the rest of the trip?”

  “Give it to Shivurr to hold,” Alan suggested. “He can stay in the van.”

  “You shouldn’t do drugs, Caleb,” Lucy said, wagging a finger at him. “It’s not good for you.”

  “Just say no,” Alan said, smirking.

  “Okay, Mom. I’ll give it to Shivurr,” he said, looking defeated. He dug around in his jacket and produced a transparent plastic bag with several joints in it. “Hang on to this herb for me, will you? Just don’t smoke it, okay?”