When Winter Comes | Book 2 | Buried

by Willcocks, Daniel

  “You sure you remember how to use that thing?” His smirk was alarming, contrasting spectacularly against the grim aura that she felt in the air. “It’s been a long time.”

  Naomi’s face hardened. If she had once loved a man, it hadn’t been this vision in front of her. Donavon had been kind, generous, dependable… until his hands found the bottle again. The formative months of their son’s life had been some of the most haunting she’d thought she’d ever experience.

  Little did she know what was to come.

  “I remember.” Her voice was flat. Outside, the storm raged against the windows, thick flurries whipping across the side of the cabin. She had lost sight of the woods some time ago. The Drumtrie forest. A constant reminder of their visit inside, all those years ago. “I remember a lot of things. I remember who you once were. What you became.” Her eyes flickered to the skull on the wall.

  “I was never that monster. You know that. I’d never leave you like that.”

  But did Naomi truly believe him? That was a question she had struggled with in the eleven years since his passing. As their beautiful son sprouted and grew before their eyes, her mistrust in their final days had never truly been shaken. She had woken up and he was gone. No explanation. No truth. No way to ever discover what had happened in the places where reality bent into the shadows and faded.

  “You know I wouldn’t leave you. I’d never leave you. I loved you too much.”

  But you fucking left! Naomi screamed inside her head while she kept her composure on the couch. She stared at her whisky and took a long sip, wincing as the amber liquid burned her throat. “How the hell did you use to drink this stuff?”

  “Practice. How the hell did you deliver an angel?” Donavon stood by the framed picture of the three of them, a time in eons past. They were all so young, alive in a different lifetime. Oscar swaddled in his new-born blankets, Donavon with a virile glint in his eye and Naomi…

  Naomi, before her hair had greyed and her innocence had abandoned her.

  They stayed a while in silence, Naomi wondering how long it would be until the ghost decided to dissipate. She had seen him before, but only on those rare occasions where her grief revisited like an uninvited guest and tore open the closet where she had stuffed her feelings. On those occasions she had succumbed, forsaking the common sense of parenthood to disappear into her own bottles so that she could escape for just a few hours from the madness, sleep for less hours than she could count on one hand, and then wake to an energetic child who would never understand the hurt that weighed her down like tombstones strapped to her back.

  A child who would never know what it meant to have a father.

  “Why are you here?”

  Donavon had taken to the large window which faced out towards the woods, his fingers laced behind his back as though he were at the top of a skyscraper, looking out over the world. “Because the truth is coming, Naomi. The answers you’ve been seeking for a decade and more, they’re here.”

  Naomi rose to her feet. She tried to pinch the tiredness from her eyes but failed. The rifle hung in one hand as she crossed the other tightly over her chest in a bid to cover the naked flesh spilling out of her gown. She loved her husband, but this was a stranger to her now. He deserved no part of her body.

  She joined him at the window. He glanced at the sky. To the place where only a few hours ago the Aurora had pulsed in shimmering crimson. “The final cut has been made. The shackles broken. The lunatics will have their time running the asylum, and it’s on you to ensure that you survive.”

  Naomi refused to look at Donavon, choosing instead to track the passage of the giant bullets of snow as they belted past the house and hit the window, each one feeling like a personal attack as they collided inches from her face. “This is a dream.”

  Donavon let out a small exhalation, a wry smile on his face. “You know that’s not true.”

  “Then what’s to come? You were never this cryptic in life.”

  Donavon’s face hardened. “I promise you that I’ll be with you, Naomi. Every step of this journey, I’ll be here. The truth that you’ve been seeking has come right to your doorstep, and with them comes your answers.”

  Naomi shuddered, her eyes betraying her with tears. The last delivery that had been signed with Donavon’s name had been a disfigured skull on her doorstep—his disfigured skull. She glanced at the morbid art piece tacked above her mantelpiece and a sob escaped her lips. Over the years, friends and family had asked her the meaning behind its placement in her house, and the only answer she’d ever given had been, “A reminder.” The truth was that she had never been sure of why she had placed it up there, it just felt right, somehow. Silent forces moved in this world and sometimes you couldn’t explain them, sometimes it was best to run with the wind and go where it may take you. That skull had marked something important, she just didn’t know what. And now, as she stared at the skull and pondered her husband’s words, she felt the time had finally come for the weight of the unknown to shift from her shoulders, and to finally embrace the truth.

  She adjusted her grip on the rifle, the only thing since her husband’s passing which offered any comfort. “You promise you’ll be with me?”

  Only silence.

  Naomi turned back to Donavon, but all she found was her own reflection in the glass.

  2

  Tori Asplin

  The glove that clamped over her mouth was the most warmth Tori had felt since she’d been forced from her home.

  The material was soft and damp, resisting her efforts to bite through the cloth and inflict pain on her captor. She wrestled in his grip, thrashing her head around in a desperate attempt to escape this nightmare, growling and fighting back tears until a voice whispered in her ear.

  “Shut the fuck up. You’ll bring them right to you.”

  Tori softened at the sound of the voice. It was desperate, but there was a soothing quality to its tone.

  “I’m going to remove my hand, now. Promise you’ll keep calm.”

  Tori nodded.

  The hand lifted. Tori turned and looked into the dark blue eyes of a man that she didn’t recognize.

  A stranger?

  That nugget of information disturbed her most, considering that Denridge wasn’t the biggest place in the world, and anybody who had lived there for some time knew everyone else just by face, at least.

  A rash of dark stubble leaked out from the material that covered the bottom half of the man’s face. There were small wrinkles bunching at the corner of his eyes. An older man?

  “Are you okay? You must be freezing?”

  “Those… Those things…” Tori managed, the weight of her attack and sudden flight overwhelming her now that she’d had a brief moment to stop. “They… Oh God… Stanley…”

  A whimper escaped her lips. She sobbed and felt the gloved hand cover her mouth again. The Winchester rifle fell from her hand and was claimed by the snow. She couldn’t see the man through the blur of her tears, but she could feel affection there, and that was enough for her to let go. He cuddled her closely to his chest and let her ride out the tears until a cry came from somewhere nearby, another animal shriek of either triumph or despair.

  “We can’t stay here,” the man whispered, brushing her hair from her face. “Come on, we need to get you somewhere safe. Which direction did you come from?”

  Tori thumbed behind her, wiping the tears from her eyes. “That way. My house isn’t too far from here.”

  “Shit.”

  “What?” she asked, her sense beginning to sharpen again as the snow and wind buffeted between the houses. “Wait, who the hell are you?”

  “Alex. Though, we can do full introductions later. If they’re back where your house is, then we’re fucking surrounded.” He sounded exasperated. Whoever this man was, it sounded like he’d already dealt with these creatures before. At least she was with someone who understood the monstrosities she’d witnessed spraying Stanley’s blood in h
er home. At least she wasn’t alone anymore. “Come on. Someone around her must be able to take us in, have some weapons. Where’d your gun go?”

  Tori noticed the missing weapon for the first time. She patted herself, as though the firearm might be hiding on her persons, then spotted the soft impression left in the snow. She dug down through the depths of fresh powder and retrieved her father’s rifle. “Here.”

  Alex held out a gloved hand. “Would you mind?”

  Tori clutched the rifle. In that moment, all that mattered was that she was safe, and in her bid for safety, the rifle was her ticket. If she yielded her weapon to this man… Alex… then what would she have to protect herself with?

  But I’m so cold. I need my arms to warm my chest. What use is there in holding the one thing that can keep us both safe if my fingers are too numb to shoot?

  Reading this debate in her eyes, Alex pulled off his gloves and offered them to Tori. “Here. Get warm. I’ll keep us covered.”

  Another screech, closer this time.

  “Let’s get the hell out of this blizzard,” Alex said. Tori did not argue.

  Tori followed behind Alex, comforted by the warmth of the gloves as Alex teased his head around the corner and scanned for the creatures. Satisfied that none were immediately present, he came around to the front of one of the houses and knocked on the door. Each knuckle rap sounded like a thunderclap to Tori who kept her eyes peeled on her limited view of the street around them, terrified of spotting a black shape approaching.

  “Come on… Come on…” Alex muttered, but no answer came. Upstairs, a light switched off. “Sons of bitches are hiding.”

  “Can’t say I blame them,” Tori said.

  They tried two more houses and met the same result. Each time Alex knocked on the door and there was no answer, Tori felt a spike of fear plough through her. How sensitive were these creatures’? Could they smell fear? She had read about monsters over the years, watched Netflix shows about werewolves, vampires, and ghosts, but never before had she encountered something like this. She had no frame of reference for the malnourished ice demons who broke through her windows. Her knees knocked together, her skin turned pink, her mouth ached from the constant chattering of her teeth.

  “Fuck,” Alex growled, his own fists clenching to fight off the cold. He banged on the door with the fleshy underside of his fist, refusing to stop until someone inside answered. Another light switched off upstairs as the residents who lived in this home refused to acknowledge their noisy neighbours in the middle of the night.

  Tori let out a soft moan. Concern grew in the depths of Alex’s eyes as he spotted the pinks of her skin, noticed how much she was shivering. He shook his head, about to raise another fist to the door when it opened wide and a squat, balding man stood in front of them, a double-barrelled shotgun in his hands as he stared down the sight at the pair of them.

  “What’s the meaning of this?” Harvey Dutton bellowed, his one open eye bloodshot and milky. “It’s the middle of the goddamn…” He spun the gun from Alex to Tori, his demeanour immediately softening at the sight of her. “Tori? Dear God, girl. What are you doing out in the middle of a blizzard dressed like that? You must be freezing.”

  Tori nodded, arms wrapped tightly around her. “I am, Mr Dutton. Please. Can we come inside?” She looked at him in earnest, feeling a sense of shame at disturbing his slumber. Harvey Dutton and his wife owned a clothing store a short distance across town, the one place which Tori frequented multiple times a week when she could. In the past she had engaged in heated discussions with the pair, begging for the latest fashion trends to find their way to Denridge, working her way through almost every item of clothing they had so she could showcase them to her thousands of followers. Never in a million years would she imagine running into them like this, looking the mess that she did.

  Harvey eyed Alex suspiciously, as though he had been the one to drag her out in these conditions, then ushered them inside. “If you could please keep it down, Damien is sleeping.” He closed the door and the howling wind was shushed. Warmth flooded over Tori, her skin tingling as it began to thaw. “What the hell is going on out there? I hear wolves howling, people shouting. It’s like there’s a riot breaking out in the middle of a storm.”

  Alex opened his mouth to answer when Harvey’s wife, Sherri, emerged at the top of the stairs, wrapping a dressing gown around her waist. “Harvey, who is it? What’s going on?” Her eyes met Tori as she padded halfway down, her gaze lingering on the dark blood stains on her trousers. “Tori? What’s happened to you? Is that… blood?”

  Tori put a hand to her mouth to stifle her sob. Her knees wobbled and Alex moved to her side, holding her around the waist to support her. “Please, sir… madam… There’s something out there in the snow. Strange things.” He pulled the dart from his pocket and held it up to show them. “They shot this at me, and I think they attacked Tori. I don’t know what they are, or what they’re here for, but it sounds like bad news.”

  “A dart?” Harvey took the dart and studied it. “That’s practically primitive. Who uses darts anymore? I haven’t seen anything like this since that documentary of natives in the Amazon.”

  Tori let out a fresh wave of sobs. “They… They… Stan… Oh…” Harvey guided her to the couch where she sat and dabbed at her eyes with tissue offered by Sherri. When she calmed enough to speak, she said, “They killed Stanley, Harvey. They did something to him. It’s… They ripped out his chest and… They…” She took a calming breath, feeling another burst of sobs threatening to take her as the whole horror of the situation hit her in full force. “They’re monsters. They’re not human. Not animal. I saw them. They broke into my house and they… ate Stanley.”

  Sherri put a hand to her chest. “Oh…”

  Harvey shook his head. “Stanley Miller? No. Can’t be. He’s one of the toughest men we’ve got out there. It would take a hell of a beast to bring down someone like Stanley. I’ve seen him wrestle a moose and come out the victor.”

  Sherri shot him a look.

  Tori rose to her feet, her fear turning to anger. When had she last ridden a rollercoaster this emotional? When had she last felt her emotions switch at the touch of a button? She pulled at her damp trousers, showcasing the blood that stained her leg. “This is his blood, Harvey. What, you think I’m making all this shit up? You think I’d be out there in that fucking blizzard because I fancied a midnight stroll? No. They ate him, dammit. Their mouths were stained with his blood, and they came for me, too. They came for me with hungry eyes and wanted a taste. I ran…” She collapsed back into the chair and fell into Alex. “I ran… I ran…”

  Alex held her tightly. Harvey looked at him as if to ask if what she was saying was true. He shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. Something’s out there. I’ve seen them, but only through the snow. Not a clear look. They came for me, too. I can’t tell you what I’ve seen, but if you’re hoping to survive the night, I suggest you arm yourselves.”

  As if to punctuate his point, a gunshot sounded from somewhere in the distance.

  Harvey sighed, only just truly realising that he wasn’t going to get any rest tonight. He handed the shotgun to his wife and rose to his feet. “I’ve got a few more where that came from. Hold on, let me go fetch the cavalry.”

  He left the room through a door at the back of the room as another gunshot echoed somewhere outside. A pregnant silence followed, with Sherri sitting upright and watching Alex with interest as he held Tori. “Is she going to be okay?”

  Tori sat up and rubbed her eyes dry. “Yes. Thank you, Sherri.” She shuddered and wrapped her arms around her again.

  “Oh, dear. You must still be freezing. Hold on, let me find something to warm you up.” Sherri shuffled towards the stairs, hobbling on every other step, her arthritic knee buckling slightly. She was halfway up the stairs when she spotted the young boy blanketed by the darkness. “Mummy? What’s going on? There are people outside making loud noises. I saw so
me outside my window.”

  Sherri turned back to Tori and Alex who were already on their feet, the gun cocked and ready in Alex’s hands.

  3

  Cody Trebeck

  Kyle made it past the padlock, the dead weight now discarded to one side. But now he fumbled with the main locking mechanism of the door, his shaking hands barely able to hold his tools still as he prodded inside the mechanism. Cody, Sophie, Amy, and Brandon couldn’t pull their eyes away from the door where the creatures’ hands fought against the door and the snow, feeling their sense of urgency rise as they closed in on the school.

  The creatures had given up on the darts, unable to get the right angle to shoot their projectiles at the kids, and now they clutched at the inch gap in the door, stretching fingers as black as night and as sharp as talons as they strained and attempted to pull the gap wider.

  Where Cody and the others had failed, they were succeeding.

  “Hurry!” Sophie bellowed, her eyes fixed on the scrambling fingers, reaching through like the vines of inky plants seeking entry in the hall. “Kyle, come on!”

  Something clicked. Kyle let out a brief triumphant cry as he struggled to his feet and turned the handle. He opened the door and was the first to dash through, forsaking even Amy as he rushed inside, tugging the unconscious body of Travis behind him.

  Sophie waited for Cody to go, but he pushed her through. The last one to enter, he closed the door firmly behind him. “Kyle, you need to lock it back up, man.”

  “Are you kidding?” Kyle said. “We need to get as far away from those things as possible.”