Whiteout (Book 2): The Dark Winter

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Whiteout (Book 2): The Dark Winter Page 3

by Maxwell, Flint


  He was talking in what seemed like a low whisper, saying the same tired shit about the dark and the midnight, and I was pissed that was going to be the last thing I ever heard. Even more pissed that his face was going to be the last thing I ever saw, that terrible lipless grin, the yellow teeth and the bloody socket of where his incisor used to be.

  What a fucking way to go out.

  I was defeated, so I let go and waited for death to come.

  I heard the rushing sounds of waves, and like how it was when I’d fallen into Lake Prism, a dream-like sun warmed my skin.

  Or maybe I’d gone to hell.

  “Grady!” a voice called. “GRADY!”

  My eyes fluttered open. Was that—?

  Standing over me, like a shadow, was Stone. He limped toward the man, who was still pinning me down, and someone else was behind him. A flash of auburn hair hung out from beneath the person’s hood, dangling over their brow. I’d only ever seen one other person with that color of hair.

  Eleanor.

  She and Stone were here. Somehow they had followed me through all the snow and the darkness and the threat of the wraiths, and here they were.

  Stone, still limping on his crooked legs, held something with both hands. I didn’t realize what it was until it plunged through the grinning man’s back and out of his chest, half a foot away from my face. It was one of my ski poles I’d left by the door when I first entered the store. Its sharp metal tip dripped with fresh blood.

  The man looked down at it protruding out of him with a mixed expression of curiosity and horror on his face, and all the strength in his fingers disappeared. He brought his hands to the wound, touched the pole gingerly, and raised a bloody finger to his eyes, which crossed as they focused.

  I watched this all with spotty vision. The man then looked at me. He was different than before, normal, the same way Ed had been after I’d shot him.

  “What have I done?” he whispered. “You h-have t-to ignore t-their v-v-voices—” But that was all the man managed to say before he fell to the side with one hand resting on the pole’s end, no longer smiling.

  Whose voices? I wondered. Still wonder.

  I scooted away, my mind still in a haze. Stone knelt on the ground in front of me, breathing hard. Eleanor was staring wide-eyed at the whole mess.

  “Are you—are you guys real?” I asked, my voice hoarse and serrated. Just those few words brought on a burning pain deep in my throat. I rubbed at the spot the man had choked me. The skin felt raw and ragged. Bruised.

  Eleanor grabbed Stone’s crutches, came over to him, and helped him to his feet. Slowly, I was regaining my senses, and for the first time since my friends saved the day, I noticed how shaken Stone looked.

  I rolled over on my side, careful to avoid the blood currently leaking from the dead man less than a foot to my right, then slowly got to my knees. Eleanor offered a hand, which I took. I was glad to feel her solid flesh. Beyond relieved she wasn’t made of shadows.

  “Yes, we’re real,” Eleanor said. “Are you okay?”

  I rubbed at my throat, spared a glance at the man and the mess, and nodded. “Think so. Wouldn’t have been if it wasn’t for—”

  The rest of that sentence never left my mouth. Eleanor slapped me. Hard.

  Bringing a hand to my cheek and sucking in air through my gritted teeth, I mumbled, “What the hell was that for?”

  “You idiot!” Eleanor shouted. “Grady Miller, you absolute dumbass!”

  Her yelling caught me by surprise, so much so that I forgot she’d slapped me altogether.

  “What the hell were you thinking going out by yourself and not telling anyone?! Jesus, Grady, I’m honestly at a loss for words. I can’t even begin to tell you just how stupid that was!”

  “Oh, I think you’ve gotten the point across pretty well,” I said, looking to Stone for some help. He was obviously in a state of shock from just having killed a man, but he looked at Eleanor and then back at me and gave a slight head shake, as if to say This is all your problem, buddy. I could tell exactly what was on his mind, too. Glad I’m not standing in Grady’s shoes right about now…

  I turned back to Eleanor. Her eyes were wet, and a couple of tears were rolling down her cheeks. “Ell, I’m sorry—”

  Again, the rest of that sentence never left my mouth, because Eleanor wrapped her arms around my middle and squeezed me so tight I lost my breath. Once I got control of my breathing, I hugged her back. It was great. Then she stood on her tiptoes and kissed me on the same cheek she had slapped only moments ago. That was even better than the hug. If I told her what I was thinking, that a kiss from her was worth nearly getting murdered, she probably would’ve slapped me a few more times.

  “I’m glad you’re alive, Grady,” she said, “but if you ever do that again, I’ll kill you myself!”

  “Duly noted,” I said. She parted from me, and I went over to Stone, who was back in his lackadaisical state, staring fixedly at the body on the floor. “Buddy?” He didn’t answer. “Stone?” Just as I was about to tell Eleanor to give him a slap, he shook his head and blinked at me a few times.

  “Huh?”

  “Thank you,” I said. “You saved my life, Stone.”

  “I did? Oh, yeah…I did.” He flashed me a smile that wasn’t exactly normal. “So much for slowing you down, huh?”

  “Dude, I didn’t mean it. I was just trying to protect you.”

  “My, my, how the tables have turned, Grady.” He crutched a few steps toward the front counter, leaned on it, and crossed his arms over his chest to add to the effect. “It was I who saved you.”

  I nodded, limped over to him, and gave him my own version of a lung-crushing hug.

  He patted my back. “All right, all right, don’t get all gushy on me, Grady.”

  I let go of him. “Sorry.”

  “Next time I’ll just let the bastard choke you to death.” He laughed, seemingly back to his old self, but the charade didn’t last too long. A few seconds later, he was staring blankly at the dead man again.

  Eleanor and I exchanged a worried look. It seemed those were the only types of looks being exchanged in this frozen wasteland.

  “Stone?” I said in a comforting voice.

  “I killed a guy,” he whispered. I barely heard him over the wind whistling through the broken front door. “I actually killed a guy. I’m a murderer. I should be in prison.”

  “No, you saved Grady’s life. You’re a hero,” Eleanor said.

  Stone started tilting his head back and forth, weighing her words. Then he looked up and grinned a fully authentic Stone grin. “You’re right. Huh, a hero…I could get used to that.”

  Eleanor rolled her eyes. “What have I gotten myself into with you guys?”

  “I don’t even know,” I replied, and we all shared a good laugh. To say we needed that would be the understatement of the century.

  I was still in pain, cold as hell, beat up, with a dead guy a few feet away from me, when Eleanor nodded to the bags I’d dropped by the door. “I see you were doing some shopping.”

  I scratched the back of my head and tried not to meet her eyes. I promised Helga I wouldn’t tell them about her little lie. So to preserve the lie, I’d have to do a little lying of my own.

  Let me just say, I am a terrible liar. Hell, I can’t even tell a convincing fib, but I tried my best.

  “Yeah, a little shopping.”

  “Ell,” Stone said, “don’t give the man a hard time. He just almost died.”

  Sighing, Eleanor turned and said, “Helga told us about the current food situation. She said you already searched through the closest houses a few days ago.”

  “She did?”

  “Yeah,” Ell said. “When we woke up and you weren’t there, Helga came clean. Said she told you about this place.” She shook her head. “You’re crazy, Grady. You know that, right? And not in a good way.”

  “Is there such a thing as a good crazy?” Stone asked.

  I
jerked a thumb toward the dead guy. “Well, there’s certainly a bad crazy.”

  “Good point.” Stone’s gaze focused on our now-deceased friend. “What the hell was that about, anyway?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know, man. I was getting ready to leave, and I saw him standing in the back, half hidden by the shadows. He was grinning like a maniac. I think he was watching me the entire time. I don’t know how I didn’t notice. Guess I was a little more concerned about the wraiths and the pile of dead bodies outside.”

  “Think he did that, too?” Stone asked.

  Eleanor, surprising us both, nudged the guy with the toe of her boot. He flopped on his back, the ski pole skewered through his stomach propping him up. “Judging by those old bloodstains, I’d say yeah…he definitely had a hand in it.”

  “Another good point,” Stone said.

  “We should get going.” I motioned toward the door, but as my eyes saw the gray sky outside, the idea of going out there now left my mind. The sun was on its way down. I didn’t need to check my notes to realize this whole scuffle with the crazy guy had set me back. Majorly.

  “Be my guest,” Stone said. “I just practically rowed a mile in the snow to come save your ass. I need some rest.” He looked around the store. “You know, why would I ever leave this place anyway? We got everything we need right here. Food, shelter, water, a bathroom.”

  Eleanor glared at him. “Everything except for my little brother and Helga. And heat.”

  Stone nodded. “Right, yeah.”

  I crossed the store and opened the employees-only door, peering into the semi-darkness. “Looks like we’re staying a bit longer.”

  Once my eyes adjusted, I saw there were piled boxes along the back wall, a lone desk with a very ancient Dell computer sitting on top of it in the corner, and a calendar pinned to a cork board to the right of the computer. The calendar was from 1997 and looked like it, too. March showed a picture of a beagle puppy frolicking through a field of flowers, but the image was faded, no longer glossy, and the pages were curled at the top. It was eerie, if I’m being honest. My eyes flicked from the calendar to something on top of one of the boxes. I walked back there and grabbed it. It was a see-through plastic sheet. Not exactly my first choice, but it would have to do.

  Back in the front of the store, I said, “Ell, help me get this guy out of here. Stone, look for something to barricade the door and the big window.”

  Stone nodded as Eleanor and I rolled the guy up in the sheet, mostly to stop him from leaking all over us, and then dragged him outside. We left him next to the pile of the bodies. Didn’t seem right leaving him with his possible victims.

  When we came back inside, Stone was dragging out the desk from the back, one arm crutching, the other pulling. He struggled mightily but remained determined. Eleanor and I helped him. It was heavy as hell; moving it took us much longer than I expected.

  By the time we had it in front of the door, I was gasping for breath. The door was blocked, though, and that was good. I added a few of the boxes from the back (also heavy as hell) for extra support. The wind whistled through the cracks because the desk didn’t fit perfectly, but it helped block out most of it. For the window, we piled up a few more of the boxes. Soon after, the inside of the store was darker than it was outside.

  I got to cleaning up the blood from the floor with a dingy rag I found behind the front counter, noticing another old flashlight that looked like it definitely didn’t work. Once I realized I was just smearing the blood around and not really cleaning it, I gave up.

  Stone was crutching along and scanning the aisles. Eleanor sat on the floor, her back against the cigarette and scratch-off lottery case.

  I grabbed a couple of Cokes and handed her one.

  “Mind if I sit?”

  “Be my guest,” she said.

  I cracked open my drink and knocked it against hers. “To still living.”

  She did the same. “To still living.” We each took a big gulp.

  The cold had turned the Cokes into mostly icy slush, but it went down smoothly and refreshingly, although a hot chocolate or fresh coffee would’ve really hit the spot.

  Eleanor winced. “Ouch. That burns.”

  “You make it sound like it’s whiskey,” I said, laughing.

  “No. I can kinda handle whiskey. Soda…not so much. Never been a big soda drinker.”

  “Pop,” I corrected.

  “Oh, right. Forgot you Ohioans take that so seriously. Down south, most of us just call any old carbonated drink ‘Coke,’ believe it or not.”

  “Weird.”

  “We live in a weird world, Grady.”

  I knocked my bottle against hers and took another swig. “I can drink to that.”

  We didn’t speak for a while after. We just sat in silence, sipping our icy Cokes and waiting. Stone hummed a tune from the other side of the small store, something I didn’t recognize. Then Eleanor got up, set her drink down on the counter, and spoke. I could tell she still wasn’t exactly pleased with me.

  “Why didn’t you ask for help?” She walked to the fallen bags and began putting the cans and boxes that had tumbled out back inside. “We’re a family, right? You said it yourself. And families stick together.”

  Stone laughed and added, “She’s got you there, Grady.”

  “I know,” I said, getting to my feet and helping her gather the stuff I’d dropped. “I just thought I could get here and back before you guys woke up. I’ve been studying the sunlight patterns the last few days and figured it’d only take a few hours.”

  “That’s bold of you to think,” Eleanor said. She set the bags on the counter next to her Coke. “Especially when it took us nearly an hour to get across the lake.”

  “There wasn’t food involved that time,” Stone said as he crutched over to us. He had a deck of cards in his hands he must’ve gotten from one of the aisles. “And, you know, food’s a great motivator.”

  Rolling her eyes again, Eleanor said, “Nope, no food…just our, you know, lives.”

  “She’s full of good points today,” Stone said. “But c’mon, let’s forget it. We’re here and we’re alive. That’s all that matters.” He turned to me. “Grady, how many hours until we can start moving again?”

  “About four,” I said. “Three, if we’re lucky.”

  “Gonna be a long four hours.” He tore the plastic wrap from the deck with his teeth. “And it’ll feel longer if we’re trying to figure out the level of Grady’s dumbassed-ness.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but thought better of it.

  “Let’s just agree that it’s too high to put into an actual figure,” Stone said. “Now let’s play some cards. Preferably in the back. Where there’s no windows…”

  I nodded and looked at Eleanor. “I’m sorry, okay? Never again.”

  “You promise?” she said.

  “Yeah, I promise not to get myself killed without you guys.”

  Cracking a half-smile, Eleanor nodded and gave me a kiss on the opposite cheek. “Fine. Let’s play cards.”

  She sauntered off toward the back room. Even in her puffy coat and heavy snow pants, I couldn’t stop myself from watching her.

  Because I was falling in love with Eleanor Hark. I was falling pretty damn hard.

  3

  Surviving the Dark

  Have I ever been in love before?

  That was a good question. I guess because I can’t give you a definitive answer, I most likely haven’t. Unless, of course, you count the huge bikini-wearing Carmen Electra poster I had pinned to my bedroom wall from the ages of fourteen to fifteen. Our relationship didn’t last long, but it was certainly…passionate. Eventually, Miss Electra was replaced by Jessica Simpson, who in turn was replaced by Megan Fox. Still, I’ll always have a soft spot for Carmen.

  I think it’s safe to say that those relationships, however odd and disturbing they may have been, don’t count. Plus, I’d rather not talk about the dark days of my adolescence. />
  So no, I haven’t been in love. I have, however, had a few girlfriends. Nothing too serious, though. I never left my toothbrush at their apartments, never was a date to one of their siblings’ weddings, and I certainly never met their parents. The opportunity was there, sure, but I am quite proficient in the art of self-sabotage.

  Whenever a good thing comes along, you can count on ol’ Grady Miller to fuck it up.

  There was Melanie Boardman, when I was nineteen and she was twenty-two, a senior at Kent State University not far from where I lived. I met her at the local gym I played basketball at every Monday and Thursday. Noontime games with a bunch of semi-retired guys who were either rich enough to not care about being in the office or on their extended lunch breaks.

  Mel worked the front desk. She signed me up for my membership, and even took the photo they printed on my pass. We got flirty, then I got brave and asked her out. Next thing I knew we’d been dating for three months, spending all our free time together. She even started recording The Bachelor on my DVR, and I was completely okay with it. I never told Stone or Jonas about this—they would’ve given me a ton of crap—but I actually got into the show. I knew all the contestants' names. I even made predictions on who was going to get the rose and who was going to be sent home. It was a really dark time in my life.

  Then Melanie said she loved me and I didn’t say it back. If I’ve learned anything from the romance movies and teen dramas her and I often marathoned together on a rainy Saturday evening, it was if your partner tells you they love you and you don’t say it back, your relationship is pretty much screwed. Which was exactly what happened to our relationship.

  After a few awkward dates, one of which consisted of watching an episode of The Bachelor in complete silence, she broke it off. It hurt—not heartbreak hurt or anything like that—but I moved on. It was all I could do.

  Then there was a girl named Gina a few years later. We met at a bar, had sex that same night, and continued to do so for the following three or four weeks. We were never officially boyfriend and girlfriend, so when I found out she’d been sleeping with not one, but four other guys during those weeks, I guess I wouldn’t officially call it cheating. Suffice to say I felt the need to break it off and go get an STD test, which came back clean, thank the heavens.

 

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