Silverweed

by Dorlana Vann

  The last drawer was a junk drawer with sticky note pads, a loose key, pens, paper clips, and lots of scattered index cards. Curious, he picked up one of the cards and read it: ginger root, salt, beets … a recipe.

  He shut the third drawer and went back to the first one. Shrugging his shoulders, he grabbed a pair of white tube socks, one with a blue stripe and one with a red stripe, and stuffed them in his pocket. A couple of long, frayed pastel scarves were also in the drawer. He grabbed those, too.

  After he removed his jacket, he pulled the sweater he had found in the closet over his t-shirt. He wrapped two of the scarves around his head, making sure to cover his ears, and he put his jacket back on. “There.”

  He stuck the key to the rental car in his front pocket and slid his cell phone into his back pocket. Not wanting to alert Diesel and Scarlet, he unlatched and then tugged open the window. The snow and icy wind blast him in the face, and he hesitated, rethinking his decision. But anything had to better than being trapped in the house with murderers.

  He jumped out the window, and his feet immediately sank into the deep snow. He fought to get the window reclosed, having to jump a bit to reach it.

  After he had the window closed, and he turned around, he fell to his knees. He struggled back to his feet and finally managed to get out of the drift by the window and walk, heavy-footed, to the car.

  It looked as if someone had built a car out of snow; he didn’t see anything metal or glass. A snowcar. All it needed was a hat and a pipe.

  The wind blew straight through Aiden’s borrowed clothes as he held his breath and dug the key out of his pocket. He’d brushed the snow away from the car door with his hands and was searching for the keyhole when he heard a loud clanking noise.

  Turning his head to the left, he saw something move in front of a shed in the backyard. He squinted against the wind and snow, walking closer. It was Diesel, and he was hunched over a snowmobile.

  “Are you serious?” Aiden said. Diesel had a way to get help the entire time and kept it to himself. They were planning on killing him and taking off. Well, maybe not murder him, but Scarlet had probably convinced Diesel that the best thing to do was to leave him there.

  Diesel moved, and Aiden stepped back and around to the front of the house. “What am I going to do?” He looked at the snow-covered driveway that climbed up to the road and at Scarlet’s snowcar stuck at the bottom, blocking his way out. He shook his head. Not a chance he would be able to leave in the rental car, even if he did defrost it somehow.

  He heard the snowmobile start up, and he peeked his head around the corner of the house.

  Diesel walked inside the shed.

  Aiden took a breath, as if courage could be inhaled. Now was his only chance to get the hell out of there.

  He fought the blinding and deep snow to the backyard and climbed on the snowmobile, thinking: How different from a motorcycle can it be? Automatically, he twisted the handle to give it gas. When nothing happened, he found a black lever on the right handle. He pushed down with his thumb and the snowmobile lunged forward. Startled, he let go of it for a second. He pushed it more gently the second time and smoothly rode off.

  He was almost to the cars when he heard Diesel yell at him to stop, and Aiden worried for a second that his cousin would catch up with him at the hill. Fortunately, the snowmobile managed the incline quite easily. Once he reached the top, he turned right, glancing over his shoulder to see a blur of Diesel at the bottom.

  The snow now felt like tiny rocks against his face and hands. His vision was almost nonexistent, but he kept a steady pace. He thought about what he would tell someone once he found a house. My cousin is trying to kill me or ... trying to make me take the rap for killing my grandmother. Oh, how did she die? They dressed her up like a wolf and then shot her. That’s right. Why? They’re crazy. That’s why.

  When he rode under a canopy of trees, the snow fell softer and wasn’t as accumulated on the road. He was able to wipe snow from his face and take a breath. A moment later, however, once the tree shelter ended, he was pelted by a waterfall of snow. The snow depth on the road was a lot higher also. He tried to slow down and keep the wheel straight but couldn’t keep from veering to the right, heading toward a thick tree. When he thought to let off the gas, it was too late.

  The snowmobile made impact, and Aiden flew, hitting the tree on the left side of his body, and fell face first into the snow. He lay there for a second, wondering if death was cold, but finally accepted that he was still alive. When pain shot through his left arm, he rolled over and held his elbow. The snow had no mercy as it spit in his face.

  He sat up, wiping his eyes and breathing in the now-painful cold. He lifted his hand away from his hurt arm when he felt wet warmth. A hole in the sleeve of his jacket revealed a gash in his skin. Blood covered his fingers.

  After the chore of standing up, he staggered over to the snowmobile, which had fallen on its side. The engine made a high-pitched clatter, the sleds were mutilated, and the headlights had been fatally smashed. If it had been a horse, Aiden would’ve had to shoot it. He turned it off.

  Aiden looked down the sheltered path that led back to his grandmother’s house and then turned toward the white, hellish path to uncertainty but possibly to help.

  He wrapped the scarf around his face and took the socks out of his pocket, slipping them on his bloody hands and ignoring the pain of his arm.

  Even though he felt dizzy and exhausted, he stuck his hands inside his pockets and walked. Glancing behind him, but only for second, he crept on with cold, wet feet to what he hoped was a neighbor’s house.

  Chapter 12

  What Big Eyes You Have

  Scarlet sat on the couch snuggling under the blankets and reading from the book Aiden had left on top of the television. It was nice to get lost, if only for a moment, in another reality. Diesel had restarted the fire earlier, before saying something about trying to repair his broken-down snowmobile, but he hadn’t apologized. She thought he owed her an apology for blaming her for everything, although she had already forgiven him. After all, it wasn’t her fault. Diesel had needed to lash out at someone, and she happened to be there at the wrong time.

  Hearing a humming roar coming from outside, she jumped up. “He got it started!” She was pulling on her boots when the front door slammed open and then slammed shut.

  When Diesel walked into the living room, all Scarlet could see were his eyes, the rest of his face was covered, but they revealed enough on their own. He wanted to kill someone.

  Diesel yanked off his hat and scarf, turned, and punched the wall under the banister. The blow was muffled because of his gloves, but the point had been made.

  “Whoa. What happened?”

  “I finally got it to start, and he jacked it. What the hell?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I turned around for one second, and that backstabbing ass jumped on my sled and took off.”

  “Huh.” She laughed. “I didn’t know he had it in him.”

  “This isn’t funny.”

  “I didn’t say it was funny. It sucks! He picked a fine time to grow a pair. I guess we’d better come up with a story for when the cops get here.”

  “There’s no gas, Scarlet! I was getting the hose, so I could get gas out of the cars when the idiot stole it.”

  “Oh. Shit. He’s going to be stranded out there, isn’t he?”

  “Stupid ass.” Diesel removed his coat and gloves and walked in front of the fire.

  Scarlet sat on the couch and watched Diesel warm his hands by the fire. Why did the thought of being alone with Diesel make her nervous? “We should go look for him.”

  He didn’t turn around.

  “We can take some gas with us and bring the snowmobile back. No harm done. Not really.”

  Diesel huffed. “I’ll go; you stay here.”

  All Scarlet could think about was, what if Diesel didn’t come back? Worse than being alone with Diesel, would
be being all alone with a dead person in the Creepy Anderson’s House. “Oh, no. No way I’m staying here by myself. I’m coming, too.”

  They saw the snowmobile tracks as soon as they reached the top of the hill. If Aiden’s plan had been to go to the closest house, he had ridden in the wrong direction. Scarlet looked at Diesel, and he shook his head in disgust.

  Even though Scarlet had bundled up like they were going to trek across Alaska, including a pair of mud boots she had borrowed from Diesel, the clothes were no match for the snow that was being blown sideways by the continuous gusts of wind. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d walked in such deep snow. She had to bring her feet and legs up high for each step. By the time they arrived at the canopy of trees, she was exhausted, and her hands and face were numb.

  When Diesel started running, she did her best to catch up in the big, floppy boots. She saw him on the side of the road, after the break in the trees, and ran over to him.

  They both stared down at the wrecked snowmobile.

  Diesel was quiet and calm, which meant he’d reached his limit. He dropped the gas canister and turned back around, like he was going to go back home.

  “Uh-oh,” Scarlet said when she saw drops of red blood in the white snow. “I think he’s hurt.”

  Diesel was now under the trees.

  “Where are you going?” She hollered and ran after him.

  “Home.”

  “He’s bleeding; he’ll die if we leave him out here.”

  “He should have thought about that before he stole my sled,” he shouted.

  “He just freaked out,” Scarlet said. “Hell, in his situation, I might have done the same thing. Come on, help me look for your cousin. You said you didn’t want anyone else to die.” She stopped chasing him, and Diesel kept walking. “Fine. I’ll look for him myself.” She turned around and trudged through the snow. She wasn’t worried, though. Diesel just needed to cool off. He was ridiculously loyal to family. Even if Diesel disliked his cousin, she knew that it wasn’t possible for him to let him die. Besides, even if she was wrong about Aiden, Diesel would never abandon her.

  When she arrived back at the snowmobile, she located Aiden’s footprints and occasional drops of blood that zigzagged down the road.

  “At least he left a trail,” Diesel said from behind her.

  She smiled, grabbed his hand, and they headed down the snow-covered road.

  “I change my mind. He doesn’t deserve to live.” Diesel mumbled after they found Aiden sitting on a fallen tree trunk, phone in hand, hugging himself and shivering.

  Scarlet squatted down to meet Aiden at face level. “Aiden? Can you hear me?” The wind whipped. She had never been so cold. She could imagine how cold the boy from Texas was in his Spring-thin jacket and without real head protection, not to mention his loss of blood.

  “Move,” Diesel grumbled.

  Scarlet stood up, and when she turned around, Diesel’s eyes had a glint, an orangish glow, that gave her a start. Maybe it was from the sun reflecting off the snow; what else could it be?

  Diesel didn’t seem to notice her scrutiny and nudged her aside. He grabbed Aiden under the arms and threw him over his shoulder.

  Aiden grunted but didn’t protest.

  Diesel carried Aiden in the direction of the house.

  Scarlet considered how easily Diesel had picked up Aiden. She loved that about Diesel; he was so strong. But now she wondered if he had always been that strong. Would he have been able to toss Aiden up over his shoulder like a ragdoll the day before? You would have to have some sort of superhuman strength to carry a teenaged guy on your back after walking, she figured around an hour, in the blinding snow and freezing temperatures.

  She trailed a couple of feet behind the boys, the distance widening the longer they walked. Diesel didn’t look back but kept the same stride.

  When they finally arrived at the top of the driveway, she looked down to where she knew her car was located but couldn’t really tell it apart at all from the lumpy drifts of snow. She felt a bit anxious as she thought about going back inside the house. Even though it offered shelter, she wasn’t all that sure it offered any security.

  By the time she was making her way down the hill, the boys had walked inside the house. Diesel poked his head around the corner after a minute, and then walked, meeting her next to the cars. He wrapped his arm around her and they walked inside to the warm living room where, thankfully, the fire still burned.

  Scarlet pulled the wet shoes off Aiden, who was curled up in a ball on the couch, and draped the blanket over him. “Do you think he has hypothermia?”

  Diesel got in Aiden’s face and yelled, “Aiden! Can you see me?”

  Aiden gave a slight nod.

  Diesel yanked the quilt off Aiden and grabbed his hand. “What the hell are you wearing?” He shook his head, pulling a sock off Aiden’s hand. “Hey, touch your thumb to your pinky, like this.”

  Aiden did what was asked of him.

  “He’s fine.” Diesel walked over to the fire. He grabbed the poker and played with the logs.

  Scarlet rolled her eyes at Diesel’s casualness. She looked at Aiden’s pale face, white hands, and dried, red lips. He shivered unmercifully. That’s when she noticed she was pretty cold herself. She removed her gloves, coat, and then boots before climbing on the couch beside Aiden, pulling the blanket over both of them.

  “I think the worse of it will be chapped lips,” Diesel said as he turned around. After seeing them on the couch under the cover together, he cocked his head to the side and opened his mouth slightly.

  Scarlet dropped her gaze to the blanket. Usually his jealousy gave her a rise, but this time it felt uneasy and eerie. “He’s freezing,” she whispered. “He needs to warm up fast.”

  “Does he?” Diesel asked. “I’ll tell you what he needs; he needs someone to kick his ass.” He held the poker and used it to point. “He crashed the sled, your only ride out of here …” his face lost intensity, and he whispered, “before dark.”

  Scarlet felt a sudden warmth dance along her neck up to her face.

  “I don’t know what we’re going to do now, but I do know if my cousin here pulls another stunt like that—”

  “I won’t,” Aiden whispered, hoarsely. “I panicked. I’m sorry.”

  “Panicked? That’s your excuse? We should have left your ass out there. Would have been one less worry. We can’t babysit you all the time.”

  “You’re right. It was stupid.” Aiden shifted and gave a low grunt.

  “Your arm,” Scarlet said. She looked up at Diesel. “We should see about his arm. Diesel?”

  “Not now,” he barked and stormed out of the living room to the foyer.

  She didn’t say anything until she heard his bedroom door slam. “Probably just as well,” she said to Aiden. “Do you think you can take off your clothes?”

  Aiden met her eyes with a puzzled look.

  She shook her head. Boys! “I mean your coat and shirt so that you can see about that arm. But you’re going to have to bandage it yourself. I’m not a nurse, and I don’t think you want Diesel anywhere near anything vulnerable.”

  Aiden nodded.

  “I don’t know what they’ll have around here to dress it, but I’ll look.”

  She hadn’t found anything earlier when she had searched for the first aid kit for Diesel, but she remembered Diesel saying something about an ointment his mom had made and kept in the pantry. Perhaps the bandages were in there, too.

  When she left Aiden in the living room and went into the kitchen, she tried to push what Diesel had said to the back of her mind, but it wouldn’t stay there. Before dark.

  Suddenly lightheaded, she sat down at the kitchen table. Except for the moment when she had seen the bite mark on Diesel’s neck, she hadn’t allowed herself to be scared. She hadn’t allowed herself to believe. Not really. Until now. His eye color and strength. Before dark. What if Diesel turns into a monster?

  Aide
n hadn’t even been able to defend himself against a feeble old lady werewolf. They wouldn’t have a chance against Diesel. She trembled. How would they defend themselves? The dart gun. Still, she had her doubts about her and Aiden’s ability to use it against Diesel in full werewolf mode.

  She roused herself by shaking her head and stood up. The thought crossed her mind that perhaps Aiden had the right idea. Maybe the southern boy couldn’t make the journey in the cold, but she was used to the snow. She could make it. No, that was a stupid idea. The truth was, she was still chilled and beat from earlier.

  As she walked inside the pantry she had another idea: If she couldn’t get out of there, maybe Diesel should leave. He was strong and knew how to protect himself from the cold. But how to approach that subject? The look he gave her for trying to be nice and warm Aiden told her he wasn’t playing. There was a serious jealousy there. If she asked him to leave, he might get the wrong idea, and he wouldn’t need to turn into a werewolf to show his teeth.

  She half-mindedly looked over the shelves of Mason jars, but as she examined them closer, she saw that they were full of different things like herbs and powders. She picked them up one by one and read the hand printed labels.

  “Hmmm,” she said as she read one of the jars. “Perhaps there is more than one way to make Diesel leave.”

  Chapter 13

  The Wolf Appeased His Appetite

  Diesel sat in the recliner. Aiden was on the couch next to Scarlet. They each had a wooden TV tray holding a plate of spaghetti sauce over pasta, which Scarlet had prepared. They drank warm red wine from tall, fat wine glasses. Aiden would have preferred a soda but wasn’t about to complain when a meal was set in front of him. No one spoke a word; the warm fire was the focal point.

  Even though Aiden had taken a hot shower and put on dry clothes, including a wool sweater Scarlet had given him from Diesel’s closet, he still hadn’t been able to lose the chill. His arm had a minor gash but was more bruised than anything. His chapped lips and pain from his injured arm didn’t bother him as much as his embarrassment over the entire ordeal.