The Winter People

by Bret Tallent

  As Hayden pulled on it, an enormous gust caught it and forced it inward, followed by feral flakes of snow. The cold was numbing and bit right through their clothes. There was a five foot drift in front of the door and what little Hayden could see beyond it did not look good. The immediate area was an alien landscape, reshaped and changed by the snow and driving winds. In the few places that he could distinguish depth and reality, Hayden could see drifts of ten or fifteen feet. He forced the door shut against the onslaught of snow and wind, using his body weight and strength to finally shut the portal.

  Hayden turned to Nick and Mike, "I think the Suburban's out of the question!", he had to half-yell above the yelps of the wind, "Can you guys ride a snow mobile?!"

  "Yeah!"

  "Uh huh!"

  "Good!" Hayden pushed past them, "We've got a couple here." There was urgency in his step and both men noticed it. It may have just been all things combined, but Nick didn't think so. He'd seen the way Hayden was looking earlier, trying to hide his concern. Nick and Mike gave each other a questioning glance then hurried along behind Hayden.

  They followed him past the dispatcher's station, a far corner of the front room with a radio set, chair, and phone, and into the hallway beyond. Hayden looked back over his shoulder, "The storm. She may not be in at all.” he stated flatly, noticing their questioning looks as they passed the empty chair. The radio cracked and popped as if to acknowledge Hayden, and then let out with a soft, high pitched whine. The three of them passed it and continued down the long dark hallway.

  It was painted pastel green and reminded Nick of the VA Hospital in Albuquerque. Or any other aging government office, he suspected. Only every third light was illuminated, to conserve energy and electric bills, Nick surmised. This, combined with the dark of the storm about them, made the hallway feel like a crypt. It didn't bother Nick at all to be hurrying down this corridor.

  They went through two sets of double doors and emerged in a large garage. The bang of the heavy wooden doors closing echoed through the near empty room. Three large bay doors stood before them and rattled indiscriminately with the wind. The air was much cooler in here and Nick could see his breath, hanging heavy about his head. Although it was brighter than the hallway, it did not abate the feeling that they were in a tomb. Nick looked around the room.

  There was very little in it. A cluttered workbench with a four drawer chest of tools on top of it stood along the far wall to the right. The top of the red box was hanging open and tools were scattered about the bench. Next to this was an acetylene torch with its two cylinders of gas on a rolling dolly and the hoses draped haphazardly around them. From there the wall continued unbroken to a small access door in the corner near the first bay door.

  In the center bay sat two Polaris snowmobiles, the rest of the room was empty. Hayden headed straight for them, his footsteps heavy thuds on the concrete floor. Every noise was amplified in the vacant space, exaggerated to some degree. Even so, it was all nearly drowned out by the raging storm outside. It hammered the doors and screeched all about the outside walls in malcontent bursts of fury.

  Hayden ignored it and began to pull the front of the first Polaris' skis around to face the door. They grated reluctantly against the concrete floor in protest, but Hayden muscled it around anyway. Nick and Mike followed his lead and began to tug on the other machine. Mike was amazed that it was taking the two of them where Hayden had managed by himself. Although not without some difficulty, Mike consoled himself. 'He's a real bull", Mike thought.

  Hayden wiped a line of perspiration from his forehead with the back of a gloved hand. His breathing was heavy but not labored. Nick and Mike were beginning to sweat as well. Hayden then looked down at the gas gauges of both machines, and satisfied, let out a sigh. He adjusted the choke on the machine he had just manhandled then yanked on its starter rope.

  Nick did the same to the Polaris he and Mike had assumed possession of. After about three pulls both machines coughed to life and began to idle high. Their exhaust quickly began to fill the large room and it made Nick gag. He coughed twice and could feel the fumes begin to burn his eyes and nostrils. The smoke from the two exhaust pipes was thick and blue and hung around them, giving everything a surreal, hazy glow.

  Mike took a quick step to the bay door and pulled hard against the rope next to it. It rose against his force, though reluctantly at first. He had to raise the door nearly seven feet to clear the drift that had formed against it. He let it slide open about eight inches above the top of the drift and could feel frigid air assault him through the crack. It carried with it particles of snow that hit the floor and melted, leaving only tiny damp spots to mark their existence.

  The acrid clouds quickly dissipated and the temperature in the room dropped as well. Hayden was satisfied and looked over at Nick and Mike, "You two wait here, I'll be right back!" he barked above the din outside. He didn't wait for any reply but turned instead and bounded off through the double doors they had just come through, his echoing footfalls fading quickly.

  Nick and Mike just stood their waiting, not really wanting to raise their voices above the combination of the wind and two-stroke's whine. In a few moments Hayden returned carrying a bundle in his right hand and something else draped over his left. As he neared them, Nick could make out three pairs of goggles in the one hand, and a revolver and holster draped over the other.

  Hayden extended his right hand and offered the other two its contents. Nick and Mike took the goggles and donned them. Hayden sat his down on the seat of the nearest snowmobile and strapped on his revolver. Nick and Mike watched him intently. Hayden noticed them and stated flatly, "Just in case." He then donned his goggles as well. Then all three of them pulled their masks back up, resembling mutant insect bank robbers from the old west.

  Hayden walked over to the wall of snow before them and raked into it with his gloved hands. The white fluff fell into the garage and burst upon the floor around his feet. The others joined him and before long had a channel cleared into the drift. The rubble from it formed a rough ramp of sorts in the bay. The wind took advantage of the gaping hole and forced its presence on them, stinging the exposed portions of their faces.

  Hayden straddled the first Polaris, gunned the engine, and moved it jerkily out the hole. It climbed the steep incline of the drift and topped it, its engine screaming even above the wind. Nick took the second machine up and out as well, leaving Mike to struggle with it on foot. He turned to regard the door then looked at the other two. Hayden pulled a box from his pocket, aimed it at the door, and pushed the button. The huge door began to slowly lower and finally close. Mike turned to him and shrugged. Hayden smiled under his mask and motioned Mike to get on behind him.

  ***

  Bud had never felt a sense of urgency more than he did right now. It was a real thing that ran its icy fingers up his spine and caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end. Along with it was the unmistakable feeling that they were being watched, pursued. He'd had the sensations before, but never to the point of near panic. Yet that was what he was feeling now. His heart was racing and he was sweating despite the cold.

  All around them the wind had reached a fevered pitch. It seemed a sentient being, intent on forcibly removing them from their snowmobiles. Its howl was distant and close at the same time, carrying with it mixed emotions in its sound. Particles of snow and ice traveled with it, a stinging accompaniment to the wind-song. It buffeted them constantly as they moved slowly down the recently plowed roadway, doing a mocking dance upon them.

  Bud couldn't be sure how long ago the plow had passed this way, but he knew it couldn't have been too long because the road was still fairly passable. Visibility had steadily been getting better but it was still only about thirty feet so he didn't dare go any faster. He didn't dare. As much as he wanted to press his thumb all the way in on the throttle, kick up a snow rooster tail behind his machine and sprint into town, he knew that he couldn't. And it was so difficult to
fight the urge, the need.

  But he was straining as it was, straining to see the road before him. He was straining so hard that his eyes ached, a dull pain that started in the center of each eye and fanned outward in an ever increasing spiral that included his cheeks, brows, and temples. Now his chest ached as well, a sharp pain in contrast to the one in his head. Bud attributed it to the huge volumes of icy air he was taking in. Though his neoprene mask warmed it considerably, it was still cold. The outside of his mask around the nose and mouth was caked with ice exemplifying the fact.

  Suddenly, Bud's thoughts turned to Sarah. If it was this tough on him, what was she going through? He turned his head and looked back over his shoulder, his concern for her outweighing the need to keep both eyes on the road. Sarah was little more than a dark shape around a headlight in the haze. Visibility was worse than Bud had realized, or it had suddenly gotten worse.

  He glanced to his left, then to his right, trying to find a landmark. But all he saw was a wall of snow and fog, clouds that had come down to rest upon the earth. Finally Bud decided that they must have entered the flats of the valley they were in, about two miles from the ranger station, and ten or twelve from town. At the rate they were moving, it seemed like a hundred. And with no natural breaks for the wind, it would slow them down even more.

  A terrible sinking feeling came over him then and he began to lose hope. They were too far away and it was too late. Whatever had been watching them, he felt was now terribly close. They were going to die out here and he was to blame. He'd failed. He'd failed his niece. He'd failed his brother. He'd failed Clayton, and he'd failed himself. Bud Boscoe was doing something he'd never done before, he was giving up.

  ***

  The sky was dark and brooding and hung so low that Nick felt he could reach up and touch it. But the thought of doing that scared him somehow. The snow had been lessening since they had left the station, but the day was still incredibly dark and sinister because of the clouds pressing in on them. Out here in the open, on the snowmobile, Nick felt completely exposed.

  It was like needing to have your back in the corner when you sat in a large open room, too vulnerable. Only this was much worse. This was an alien landscape where Nick could gain no purchase on reality. The town blew by him on the wind, unrecognizable as a town at all. It was frosted in ill-formed shapes of whites and grays. Hazy shadows of things that were. It was a dead place out of a dream. A dead place.

  Nick concentrated his gaze upon Mike's back and followed Hayden down what he assumed to be the street. He decided not to let his attention wander too much to his surroundings, he felt more comfortable that way. More secure. Before long they began to slow and eventually stopped. Nick looked up past Hayden and saw that they were in front of a large A-frame house nestled between two others of similar design.

  He couldn't see one, but Nick imagined a white picket fence around the chalet-looking home and a squared hedge between it and the neighbors on either side. All along the fence would be colorful and fragrant flower beds spilling over into an incredibly green full lawn. The whitewashed house would stand out pleasantly but not overwhelmingly against the grass. There would also be cool and welcome shade cast across the porch swing from the huge old tree that stood between the driveway and front walk, in front of the living room window.

  Nick could easily see Hayden sitting on that swing in a gentle breeze, sipping on a beer. He'd be rocking gently back and forth, with speckles of light broken through the leaves of the oak tree splashed haphazardly across his face. His wife would be beside him and together they would sigh and breathe deeply smelling the fresh cut grass and wild flowers. Together they would sit and watch the world go by, just watch contentedly.

  Nick could imagine all he wanted, but what he really saw was a dead place, just like the town. A tomb encased and distorted by snow. He used to love the winter, with its pristine touch on reality, and the cleanliness of its cold. But now its association was with death. It was a heartless killer and was killing this town even now, twisting its surface into grotesque shapes of mummified humanity. It was encasing it in white shrouds that would eventually suffocate it. This town was going to die, Nick could feel it.

  ***

  Hayden paused only briefly at the curb in front of his house, surveyed the area, then gave the machine beneath him a little throttle. It moved ahead slowly and easily traversed the hill of snow that was his fence in the summer months. Behind him he could hear the whine of the other machine as it followed. Hayden pulled the Polaris to a stop somewhere on the porch near a mound he knew to be his swing, and killed the engine. The other Polaris fell silent as well, somewhere off to his right and slightly behind him.

  The stilled engines allowed the wind to assault them anew. It lashed out at them and ridiculed them with its forlorn cry. It had become a force against them once more. Barely noticeable on the snowmobiles, there was no doubt of its presence once they had stopped. Yet, above that wail that reverberated through the porch, Hayden heard a muffled cry of alarm.

  Evidently Mike had heard it too for he was also turning to find its source. Behind the two men who were still astride their snowmobile, stood Nick, or at least the shoulders and head of Nick. The rest of him was buried in the drift he'd stepped off into. Nick had missed the porch by several feet and when he'd climbed off the Polaris, he stepped off into fluff.

  Hayden and Mike burst out into wild laughter hard enough that Mike almost did a nose dive to land beside Nick. The snow on the porch was a couple of feet deep and the porch itself was a good three feet above the yard. The area that they were on was relatively smooth, so Nick was standing in about five feet of snow. He only looked up at them, embarrassed.

  The laughter ebbed and Hayden climbed off his Polaris onto the porch and trudged through the heavy snow toward his front door, shaking his head and laughing to himself beneath his mask. Mike looked at Hayden then back at Nick, shrugged then followed the path that Hayden had just made. Nick watched them both, exasperated. And, seeing that he was on his own, he began to pull himself out of the winter bog by the rear end of the other machine.

  Hayden punched a gloved fist into the white snow drift next to his front door. He pulled it out and came away with a shovel handle. The snow offered mild resistance against his strength but gave into it feebly and allowed him to pull the blade free. Hayden thumped the snow shovel's head with his fist to knock loose any snow and attacked the drift. Within a few moments he had made a pathway which allowed them to open the door freely. Mike only stood idly by while Hayden labored, he felt useless.

  Nick took a few moments to brush himself off and followed the trail made by the others, all the while mumbling to himself and shaking his head. He came up beside Mike and stomped his feet several times on the freshly cleared area of the porch. Whatever resilient bits of snow still clinging to his pants fell away then and were lost in the wind. Nick looked up at Mike and could see by his narrowed eyes beneath the goggles that he was smiling.

  He knew that smile too, big and toothy. It was Mike's infamous grin. It was a dopey smile that stretched from ear to ear and was accentuated by his nearly perfect, ultra-white teeth. Nick loved that smile. He smiled then too and they both chortled. Mike clapped Nick on the shoulder and shook his head. Hayden only cast them a sidelong glance, but beneath his mask he was smiling as well.

  Hayden stuffed the shovel back in the snow next to the door and opened up the screen door. The creaks of its protesting hinges were lost in the howl of the wind. The front door was not locked and opened easily, assisted in part by the gusts that surrounded the three. They came into the house and Hayden pulled the door closed behind them. Instantly their goggles fogged up and the room was a darkened blur.

  Hayden removed his goggles and allowed his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit room. As he turned toward the coat rack to the side of the door he quickly scanned the room. It was comfortable and familiar. The air was scented with an interesting blend of lemon furniture polish and fried
bacon. A brief smile touched his lips as his thoughts drifted toward Barbara. She was in the kitchen, he knew, even before the occasional clank of dishware filtered back to him.

  Hayden looked over at the others, embarrassed, realizing that he'd been standing there entirely too long. The big man cleared his throat in that awkward moment then pulled off his coat and hung it from a wooden peg on a board mounted on the wall. He then kicked off his boots and laid his goggles and mask atop them. Hayden cleared his throat again.

  "I hope you boys are hungry." his voice boomed in the quiet house, "I radioed Barb from the station and let her know you were coming. And I've never known her to cook anything less than enough to feed an army." he explained.

  "I could eat." Mike said matter of factly.

  "Ditto.", Nick added. He slipped out of his coat and gear, and Mike followed suit. "Smells like some tasty eats, that's for sure."

  "Chow.", Mike agreed, nodding.

  "Sorry boys, it's probably just jaw-meat and mountain oysters, raw. Hayden said smiling as he brushed his unruly hair back with his hands.

  "Mmmmm, maybe a little road kill on the side?" Mike offered, head slightly tilted to one side. "I've seen some mighty tasty looking fur patches this trip."

  Hayden chuckled and Nick nodded in agreement. Then Hayden turned and began padding toward the far doorway in his stocking feet. Nick and Mike followed in single file, their footfalls soft muffled thuds on the polished hardwood. Its slick surface caused them to exercise caution as they walked. Barely noticeable above the cantankerous cry of the wind, Nick noticed that Hayden creaked a little as he walked. It made Nick smile.