Cold Death

by Mary Stone

Bethany licked her lips. The idea of an entire meal sounded too good to be true. She glanced at the animal’s face, and her heart sank at the pink tongue sticking out of its mouth. Its long hairless tail twitched again in his sleep.

  The meal sounded too good to be true because it was.

  “Here, take the knife. See how it feels in your hands. How powerful and strong.”

  Doctor Rotten shoved the knife into Bethany’s hand and pressed her fingers around the handle as anger filled her so full she forgot to be scared.

  No matter what he said, she knew this was wrong. He was wrong.

  Strong was doing the right thing, and the right thing to do was to leave the poor thing alone. She didn’t care if he couldn’t feel any pain for now, because what happened when he woke up? He’d be hurt and crying, and it would be Bethany’s fault, and no amount of food in the world was worth that. No matter how scared or hungry or tired she was.

  Her mama had told her to always be brave, and that was exactly what she was going to do. Brave people didn’t hurt sleeping animals, or any animals.

  The bad man sucked in an excited breath. “Yes, that’s right. Go on, do it.”

  Bethany realized he was staring at the knife in her hand and believed she would cut the poor thing. For some reason, that made her so mad she tightened her fist around the handle harder. She wound up her arm and threw the knife at the bad man, but he moved too quickly and sidestepped out of the way.

  “I won’t! I won’t hurt anything. Not animals, and not even snails, and you can’t make me, so leave me alone! I’m going to be like Wonder Woman and wait for my mama to come!”

  The bad man only stood there, waiting for her to finish. When she did, he pulled her by the hand across the floor, over to the ugly green couch.

  “I’m afraid that this is an area in which you require further education regarding the true nature of superheroes. Of course, all children want to be heroes. They have a deep, innate desire to be special. The problem stems from the belief that all they have to do is throw on a cape or drive a fast car with lots of cool features, or gain a secret power, and, presto! They can save the world. But they always forget about the price of tapping into those superpowers. Pain.”

  The bad man’s eyes gleamed when he breathed the last word, and Bethany shivered. She could tell he liked the idea of pain, instead of thinking it was awful, like a normal person. She wanted to cover her ears and block out every horrible thing he said, but he’d only rip her hands away or shove her back into the refrigerator.

  She refused to agree, though. Wonder Woman didn’t need pain to save people. “I don’t believe you.”

  Doctor Rotten smiled the tiny smile. “Don’t you? Tell me then, what happened to Batman before he decided to fight evil?”

  Bethany shrugged. How would she know? The Batman movies were too old for her. Besides, she liked Wonder Woman better.

  “His parents were murdered right on the street in front of him when he was a little boy, so he internalized all that pain and channeled it into helping other citizens of Gotham. Without that tragic backstory, Bruce Wayne would be just another billionaire, exploiting workers for his own gain. Now, what about Spiderman? Do you know if he had a happy life growing up with his parents?”

  Bethany bit her lip. She’d watched that movie and was pretty sure the answer was no. Peter Parker grew up with his Aunt May, so that probably meant his parents were dead…or bad. Plus, he’d been picked on a lot in school.

  Even though she didn’t say anything, Doctor Rotten nodded like he’d read her mind.

  “There, you see? Poor Peter.” He clicked his tongue like he was sad, but Bethany knew he wasn’t sad at all. “What about those dismal X-Men? If you’ve read the comics or watched any of those movies, you’ll know that none of them led very happy lives to start. Persecuted and locked in cages, experimented on by their own government! All for powers outside of their control. Then there’s the one you mentioned before, the marvelous Wonder Woman.”

  Bethany had been staring at the floor, but her head jerked up at that. Shut up. Shut up, shut up, shut up.

  But Doctor Rotten wouldn’t shut up. He never did. “Tell me, did your caped superhero live out her days on her beautiful, hidden home island, all safe and cozy with her Amazonian family and friends?”

  Bethany’s heart raced, and her fingers curled at her sides. She wouldn’t answer. She wouldn’t. The bad man must think she was really stupid to fall for his trick. She wished he’d just hurry up and finish already.

  “Cat got your tongue? That’s okay, I’ll answer for you. Wonder Woman was forced to leave her homeland and never return. Never see her family again. And do you know why? Because the only way for a superhero to reach their true potential is by experiencing a traumatic trigger. Without pain and suffering, they’d simply go about their everyday lives and not spend a single minute worrying about ways to help others or save the world.”

  Doctor Rotten moved closer and held out a hand. “Do you see now? If you let me, I’ll help bring out the superhero in you. Think of how much good you can do once you have rage and anger and pain to draw your powers from.”

  Bethany stared at the hand like it was a snake, except even snakes were nicer than him. “I’m not a baby. I know superheroes aren’t real. Someone wrote them, like books. They’re make-believe.” She shoved out her chin. “My mama is going to come and save me, though. Just wait.”

  The bad man clucked his tongue again. “I wish you were right, but the truth is, Katarina is no hero, super or otherwise. If anything, I’m afraid your dear mama is a villain. Would you like me to share some of the horrible crimes she’s committed over the years?”

  This time, Bethany did cover her ears. “Stop! I won’t listen.”

  But Doctor Rotten grabbed her wrists and wrenched her hands away. “Oh, but you will. Starting with when I first met your mother as a little girl. She was only two years older than you but already so incredibly bloodthirsty. Did she ever tell you how she cut up her poor adoptive parents, the Davidsons, and once she’d tired of her fun, lit them on fire?”

  Bethany’s hair whipped in the air as she shook her head. “I don’t believe you. I don’t.” But her voice came out squeaky and small when she remembered all the Zombie Apocalypse stuff Mama had taught, and his smile widened.

  “Oh, but I think you do. And if she killed someone at such a tender, young age, can you imagine how many people she’s killed since? Why, only last week, she slit her boyfriend’s throat and watched him bleed out on the floor. I believe you met him once or twice. Clayne.”

  Her stomach clenched tight. Clayne? Why would Mama hurt Clayne?

  He hadn’t been her favorite person in the world, and she’d hated the yucky old bed in his guestroom, but her mama had liked him, so she’d tried her best to be polite. “You’re lying. That doesn’t make any sense.”

  But the triumph in his dark eyes made her think that maybe the bad man was telling the truth. “Bad people don’t always make sense when they do terrible things. But one truth you can count on, my dear, sweet girl, is this…Katarina is one of the villains.”

  Bethany wanted to punch him right in the nose but settled for balling her fists. All those stories he’d told about her mama made her chest hurt, and her throat felt funny. She wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him. Whether her mama had done all those awful things or if he was trying to trick her again.

  One thing Bethany was sure of, though. Her mama would never hurt her. She loved Bethany, and Bethany loved her mama right back.

  “So, what if she is?” Bethany looked Dr. Rotten square in the eye. “Even bad guys can be good guys when they need to be.”

  17

  Branches from an overgrown section of trail clawed at Clay’s shirt as he trekked back down the mountain. He moved to the side and held them out of the way for Lucas to pass through before rejoining the descent.

  They’d spent hours traipsing along the trails already, starting close to the river where
the ranger found Lucas all those years ago. The drawings Lucas had created from his time in the cabin were tucked away in Clay’s backpack. At several points along their hike, Lucas had stopped in his tracks to scrutinize certain sections of the mountain, asking Clay to hand him the drawings to compare.

  His gaze would travel back and forth from the sketch to the landscape, sometimes for up to a minute before he’d finally nod and hand Clay the paper while pointing out the landmarks. “See…there and there.” He’d indicate the landmarks on the mountain, then show Clay where to find them on the drawing.

  Sometimes, the landmarks were so overgrown that Clay needed additional help to spot them, and Lucas would guide him closer, or to a different angle, until he could finally make the connection too.

  The kid had endless stores of patience, and a damned good eye.

  Man, Clay corrected, not kid. Not anymore. Lucas’s youth had been stolen long ago by the people who’d snatched him. He was a young man now.

  Clay had worried the hike would be too rigorous for Lucas, both physically and emotionally, but out on the mountain, the other man was in his element. What could have been a grim day turned out surprisingly enjoyable, with Lucas halting on the trail every so often to point out a squirrel, or a fox, or a hawk spiraling up in the sky, along with the best items to use to start a fire, and how to build a shelter from branches, plants, and moss.

  Only once had the other man needed assistance, and that was when they’d meandered along the river and come to a bend where boulders protruded from the flowing water like stepping-stones.

  Lucas’s eyes stuck on one stone in particular, and he’d begun rocking back and forth on his heels. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  Clay had finally calmed him down by asking for his help to identify a nearby bird perched on a tree limb. His sister had sometimes gotten stuck in a mind rut like that, and the thing that had worked the best for her was distraction.

  No luck so far in terms of finding any sign of Caraleigh, but Clay had managed to accrue an impressive number of mosquito bites. There was always tomorrow. And the day after that. Clay would spend as many days as necessary to track his sister down.

  The sun was only an orange smudge on the horizon by the time they finished hiking back down and reached Clay’s truck. He was dusty, sweaty, but most of all, starving. The power bars they’d devoured on the trail weren’t cutting it, so once they’d snapped on their seat belts, Clay turned to Lucas. “You hungry? Why don’t we find somewhere to eat? We can start searching again in the morning.”

  “Okay.”

  “Anything sound good to you? I’m sure there are plenty of places around.”

  The other man stared straight out the windshield, rubbing his palms up and down his jeans. “It’s Tuesday. They serve burgers on Tuesdays at the center.”

  He stated that bit of information in a stiff, solemn voice, like burgers on Tuesdays was an unbreakable vow.

  Clay smiled. “Burgers sound good to me. Let’s see what Yelp has to say.” He consulted his phone to search for a local spot with high ratings. “How about Billy’s Burger Barn? It’s only a mile away and has rave reviews. Here, listen to this one: ‘A real hole-in-the-wall gem of a place. If you care more about taste than fancy tablecloths and snooty waiters, then this is the spot for you.’”

  Lucas frowned. “Is hole-in-the-wall good?”

  “Depends, but some of my favorite diners and bars are tiny little spots that you’d miss driving along the street if you blinked.”

  “Okay. But that doesn’t seem like very effective advertising if you could miss seeing them by blinking.”

  Clay laughed at Lucas’s logic. “That’s very true. Also, I can see why you and Caraleigh got along so well. She used to say stuff like that all the time.”

  Of course, as a teen, Clay had often found some of his little sister’s quirks annoying. He only hoped he’d get the chance to appreciate them now that they were both adults.

  When they pulled into the crowded parking lot five minutes later, Clay whooped at the miniature barn-shaped building. The red paint peeled all over, and the last two letters were out on the neon sign. Billy’s Burger Ba. “Now that’s what I’m talking about! They weren’t joking when they said hole-in-the-wall.”

  “And that makes you happy?”

  “Yup. In my experience, they cook up the best burgers in places that look like they’ve been around for the past eighty years.”

  Lucas tilted his head as he gave the shack-like building a dubious once-over. “Do they cook up the best burgers in places that look like they’re about to fall apart too?”

  “That just adds to the ambiance.”

  The other man shook his head. “That doesn’t even make sense.” He smiled when he said it, though, transforming his face into something that could grace a magazine cover or TV screen.

  Clay’s return grin faded when he remembered that Lucas’s pretty face was likely part of the reason he’d been trafficked as an older kid. That, along with the spectrum traits that could sometimes make him seem younger than his actual age.

  Fear tugged at him as his mind veered down dark paths, calculating odds that his sister had suffered a similar fate, but for once, Clay refused to speculate. Spending the day with Lucas on the trails had gone a long way toward restoring his optimism, and for that, Clay owed the other man a debt of gratitude. Caraleigh had gotten lucky once, when she’d ended up with Lucas on that mountain.

  Maybe her luck had held.

  Like Lucas, his little sister had been whip-smart. Stubborn as hell, even difficult at times, but smart. Great with numbers and memorizing facts. She’d loved to learn, and he could picture her hanging on Lucas’s every word and acting like a little sponge while she soaked up his knowledge of survival skills.

  Who knew? Maybe the survival training she’d learned while living with Lucas had saved her life. And maybe, just maybe, Caraleigh was still putting those skills to use, somewhere out there in the mountains. One way or another, Clay would find out. Even if that meant he’d spend the next two years hiking every square mile of those woods.

  Lucas entered the restaurant first through the ancient, scratched-up red door but stopped only a few steps across the threshold.

  At first, Clay guessed the country music twanging in the background was too loud, or the number of people packed inside, but then he followed Lucas’s pointing finger to the wall behind the register. A cartoon illustration of a massive burger with eyes was next to a sign that declared Biggest Burger in the State! The print below read, If you finish the burger in 30 minutes, it’s free!

  Lucas’s eyes were round as he stared at the ad. “I don’t think I could finish a burger that size in thirty minutes.”

  Clay laughed. “Me either. Not in thirty minutes or even thirty hours.”

  “Probably in thirty days, though. Unless they left it sitting out the entire time. Then I wouldn’t because of all the bacteria. Did you know that the amount of bacteria on food doubles every twenty minutes when the temperature is between forty and one hundred and forty degrees Fahrenheit?”

  “I did not. That fast, really?”

  Lucas nodded, his eyes wide and serious. “Really. That’s why so many people get sick at buffets or barbecues, because the food is left out so long or not warmed at the proper temperatures.”

  “Good to know.”

  “Hello, welcome. This your first visit to Billy’s Burger Barn?” The pretty blonde hostess beside the podium was young, probably mid-twenties, and wearing a red-and-white checkered shirt paired with denim shorts, suspenders, and cowboy boots. Her polite smile skimmed Clay before widening to an appreciative grin on Lucas.

  Clay tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am, it is. We were in the area and in the mood for a good burger, so figured we’d give it a shot.”

  “Well, you’ll be happy you did. Follow me. I’ll get you gentlemen seated in two shakes of a lamb’s tail, so you can get on to the important stuff…eatin’!”<
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  Lucas’s brow wrinkled as they trailed her toward the rear of the packed, ramshackle space, but Clay was too busy biting back a laugh at the extra bounce the waitress added to her step to ask. When they reached the empty booth, Lucas scooted into the closest seat, so Clay maneuvered around the waitress and slid into the opposite side.

  The waitress fluttered her false lashes as she handed Lucas a menu, her mouth drooping when he grabbed the laminated page without ever glancing up from the table. Once again, Clay was reminded of his sister. On report cards, Caraleigh’s teachers often commented on how bright she was but that she could stand a little extra work on eye contact and social skills.

  “I’ll be back in a few to take your order.”

  Once the waitress strutted away, Lucas lifted his gaze. “Does ‘two shakes of a lamb’s tail’ mean fast?”

  “It does.” Clay was puzzled by the random question until he remembered the waitress had used the phrase.

  Lucas’s brow remained creased. “Why?”

  “Why does two shakes of a lamb’s tail mean quick? Well, let’s see…” Clay racked his brain and came up short. “You know what, I have absolutely no clue. We can google it later, but first, let’s figure out what we want to eat.”

  Luckily, the menu was pretty limited. Burgers, chicken strips, a couple of different sandwiches, and chili plus sides. That was it.

  Once Clay made a decision—classic cheeseburger with bacon and a side of onion rings—he set down the menu and studied Lucas. The other man was chewing his lower lip and frowning down at the page. “Everything okay?”

  “Yes.” Still biting his lip, Lucas glanced around the restaurant as if searching for someone, then hunched his shoulders. “No. Can…would you mind ordering for me?”

  Caraleigh hadn’t liked ordering at restaurants, either. “Sure, no problem. What would you like?”

  “A burger that’s cooked until it doesn’t bleed at all. With cheese but nothing else. And French fries. And maybe…” Lucas fidgeted with the menu. “A soda?”