Night Chill

by Jeff Gunhus

  She shook her head, still angry, but reached out and took his hand as they walked. “You’ve been through a lot. Maybe this thing shook you up more than you thought. You know, dragged out some old demons.” Jack didn’t meet her eyes. “They said you were screaming?”

  “I wasn’t screaming.”

  “They said—”

  “I told you. When I saw him, it just brought the experience back. It was like a hallucination. I panicked. Now it’s over.”

  “O.K.” She squeezed his hand. “We are going to talk more about this, but it can wait. Let’s just get home.”

  Together they walked out of the hospital and hurried to catch up with the girls already climbing into Lauren’s Volvo station wagon. Jack remembered with a groan that he had to get a rental car the next day and call the insurance company about getting his car repaired. As he went over the mental list of the next couple of days of errands ahead of him, thoughts of Nate Huckley, car accidents and kidnapped women faded into the background. And that was exactly where he wanted those thoughts to stay.

  “I’ll drive,” he said. He appreciated that Lauren didn’t hesitate but tossed him the keys without comment. After making sure the kids were buckled up, he started the car, shifted the automatic transmission into drive and wound his way through the parking lot.

  “Lights,” Lauren reminded him.

  Jack grinned at her. “Got it under control.” He flipped on the lights. “Let’s go home,” he called out.

  The man watched closely as the Tremonts left the hospital. They’d left later than he planned but he wasn’t worried about the delay’s impact on his schedule. Everything was still a go.

  It was an interesting turn of events, the involvement of this Jack Tremont character. He hadn’t been on any of his lists until the accident but Tremont had the man’s interest now. It was still too early to tell, but the man felt that finding Tremont might turn out to be stroke of luck. And it was about time he caught a break. After months of reconnaissance, he was getting impatient for action.

  The man exited his car. The dome light of course had been disconnected so as not to draw attention to his vehicle. He zipped up his black windbreaker and jogged across the parking lot. On the slim chance the security guard had deviated from his usual schedule and was walking the perimeter, the man had chosen his wardrobe to make sure he fit the part of a casual jogger. Right down to the arm band iPod and worn black sneakers. But there was no guard in sight so the man turned and sprinted across the hospital lawn.

  He made it across the wide lawn and leaned up against the hospital’s brick exterior. Well conditioned, his breathing was calm and measured even after the sprint. He worked his way along the side of the building, using the bushes for cover. There were some exterior lights but no cameras that he could see. He was reasonably sure he had not been detected. Reasonably sure was as good as it got in his profession.

  He turned the corner of the building and came to the old fire escape on the north side of the building. The metal walkways and ladders were part of the original hospital construction back in the 1920s and the man wondered if the hospital kept them in working order. He knew that instead of paying for the rusting structures to be removed, some old buildings just welded the ladders together once modern fire-suppression systems were installed. He spotted the drop ladder suspended high above the ground but could not tell if it was functional.

  Three quick steps and the man launched himself into the air. He planted his right foot on the wall, then pushed off hard, arching his back and fully extending his arms over his head.

  The man easily reached the end of the ladder and grabbed it with both hands. Even with his weight, the ladder held in place. Welded shut. That alone did not present a problem as the man easily pulled himself up onto the first platform, but he worried that if the ladder was welded shut then the entrances to the floor might be obstructed as well.

  The man checked the window that opened to the second floor. With a little pressure it started to open. He closed it back tight and filed it away as an escape option. The man checked for movement in the parking lot down below. Seeing none, he grabbed the ladder and started toward his objective.

  The third floor window was also unlocked. He checked the hallway, then slid the window open and crawled through. It took him three tries before he found the right room. Luckily the first two were empty, although he moved quietly enough that he doubted he would have disturbed anyone. The man didn’t have the abilities of his brother, but when he opened the door to room 320, he felt Nate Huckley in the room.

  He strode into the room and leaned over the prone body, peering into the face partially covered by air tubes. Huckley’s pale flesh took on a ghoulish cast in the yellow hospital lights and his usually immaculate hair was greasy and pasted flat to his scalp. The man placed a hand on the blanket over Huckley’s chest, careful not have any skin-on-skin contact.

  “Don’t die on me now.”

  The man crossed the room and returned to the door. No lock. He dragged the cushioned visitor’s chair from the side of the bed and braced it against the handle. Satisfied he would not be disturbed, at least not without warning, he pulled off his thick black sweater and threw it on the floor. He wore no shirt and the cool air in the room gave him a chill as a thin sheen of sweat evaporated from his skin.

  The man reached back and untied the string that held back his hair. Once he worked it loose, a great mound of black hair fell down across his shoulders and upper back, laying on thick muscles that twitched in expectation. He left his faded blue jeans on but removed his shoes and socks. From his back pocket he removed a small black pouch and a length of braided leather rolled into a ball.

  The man’s rib cage heaved as he forced air into his lungs. Pressing his forearms against his diaphragm and bending at his midsection, he exhaled the air completely. Slowly straightening, he refilled his lungs to their capacity. Like a free diver preparing for a challenging depth, the man repeated this exercise for several minutes.

  Finally, the man felt he was prepared. On the last great inhalation of breath, he held his lungs full and let only a small amount of air escape his lips in a steady stream. His lips began to move and form words. Then a sound rose from deep in his throat, a bass tone that fluctuated in a steady rhythm.

  He tugged on the strings of the black pouch and poured the contents out into his right hand. Once the pouch was empty, he closed his right hand into a fist and with the other hand, replaced the pouch into his front pocket.

  The chant became louder as the man moved to the corner of the room and kneeled down on the floor. Holding out his fist, he relaxed the bottom two fingers and allowed a tiny flow of black sand trickle onto the floor. Clenching his hand back into a fist, he stopped the flow and moved to the next corner where he repeated the action.

  Only once all four corners were complete did the man move to the bed. He unrolled the leather braid and placed it on Huckley’s torso, one end just below the neckline and the other ending at his waist. The man looked to the first corner and saw a barely perceptible line of rising smoke. The powder was working.

  Soon, smoke columns filled each of the four corners of the room and gathered on the ceiling as a gray odorless haze. The man raised his hands over Huckley’s body and started his incantation. He tried to focus on the ritual but he found it hard to block out the nagging voice in his subconscious, the voice that wondered if what he was doing was crazy. Part of him thought so. Part of him hoped so. But deep inside he knew he was fooling himself. The nightmare was real and it was just getting started.

  NINETEEN

  Fire everywhere. The forest around the Tremont’s house was blazing. Tongues of red and orange shot out toward the sky, spun into desperate pirouettes by the gusting wind. Bright swaths of yellow stuck out among the dark blotches where the fire had already devoured this year’s fuel. The crackle of dry leaves being crushed under four pairs of hiking boots provided the soundtrack to the inferno.

  The kids
ran ahead through the fall foliage, somehow running full speed and still managing to kick every pile of leaves in their path. Days like this were the reason they had bought the house. Their real estate agent knew how to do her job. She’d asked them to postpone their house hunting trip by two weeks so they would hit the peak fall foliage. They hadn’t stood a chance. Autumn in western Maryland, as far as Jack and Lauren were concerned, was one of the miracles of nature.

  The first time they drove down the long, winding driveway through the property’s fifteen wooded acres, a family of deer wandered into the road in front of them. Unafraid, the deer took their time to move to the other side, even waiting at the edge of the woods as the car passed to check out the passengers inside the car. By that time the house on the property could have been a two bedroom shack instead of the five thousand square foot custom home listed in the ad and they wouldn’t have cared. It was a perfect place to start their new life. A perfect place to heal. They made an offer that day.

  A few of their Orange County friends had come to visit, each one commenting on the beauty of the place and how much they envied them for having the luxury to move somewhere so secluded. Jack took it all in with a smile. His friends all had money to move out of Orange County but they never would. He knew full well they thought he and Lauren were crazy living out in the sticks and that it would only be a matter of time before they would be tired of it all. His old business partner Jason Reid had said, “Jack, it’s like going camping. All the back to nature crap is fun for a while, but pretty soon you need a rubdown at the Pacific Club and a nice restaurant where the menus aren’t made out of plastic.”

  But the move was good for them. He and Lauren needed time to work things out, time to take care of old wounds inflicted during years when professional pursuits were put above family needs. And it was working. Jack had never felt more connected to his family than he did now. And Lauren admitted it was the same or her. Thanks to technology, she was able to stay involved with her research life and run a small practice in town, mostly doing pro bono work for the area’s poorer families. It’d been just over a year since they’d moved, and he and Lauren were better than ever. Taking long walks through the forest around their property was one of their favorite things to do and it had never felt more needed than the morning after returning from the hospital.

  “Becky. Sarah. Don’t get too far ahead,” Lauren called out.

  “They’re getting so big,” Jack said.

  “Before we know it there’ll be boys over here. Can you imagine them dating?”

  “Sure. I won’t have a problem with that.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure. I figure when they’re twenty-five, they’ll have the right to do whatever they want.”

  “Twenty-five!” Lauren laughed. “In your dreams.”

  “It’d be nice thought, wouldn’t it? Be nice to keep them this age for a while.”

  “This is a great age. It’s funny but—”

  “Shhh. Did you hear that?” Jack cocked his head to the right side of the path. The rustling of leaves. A sharp crunch. Then sticks breaking.

  “What is it?” Lauren whispered.

  The noise stopped for a few seconds, then started again, louder this time. It sounded like a rock rolling through the trees. The thick undergrowth slowed down whatever was coming toward them, but it didn’t stop it. The bushes and small trees nearest to them shook. Jack felt Lauren’s hand tighten around his. The noise stopped and the forest was an eerie quiet. Jack felt as if something was staring him down, something hidden by the mesh of vines and bushes.

  Jack put his fingers to his mouth and let out a loud whistle. Lauren jumped. The thrashing in the woods started again with even more energy than before. With a final lunge, a yellow beast cleared the tree line and ran at Jack and Lauren, its tail wagging.

  “Buddy, what are you doing? Did you get stuck?” Jack bent down and picked off the leaves and thorny twigs snagged in the yellow Lab’s thick coat. Buddy seemed to smile as he panted with his mouth open and sat patiently while they cleaned him off. He licked their hands whenever they came close enough to his face.

  “You’re supposed to be watching the girls,” Lauren chided him as she rubbed his ears. “Go get ‘em. Go on.”

  Buddy remained sitting and looked over to Jack for permission. Jack waited to make sure Buddy stayed until he gave the signal. Then with a slight nod up the trail he whispered, “Go.” Buddy tore off up the path, his wagging tail raised in the air like a periscope on a cartoon submarine.

  Lauren and Jack laughed at the dog. Of all of them, Buddy enjoyed the change from the concrete and asphalt of California to the forests and streams of Maryland the most. Jack had always believed dogs were meant to be in the outdoors, chasing squirrels and digging holes, not confined to living rooms and small patches of grass. The move had been good for all the Tremont’s, both two legged and four.

  “Did you ever get a hold of Stanley?” Jack asked after they walked for a while.

  “Yeah, finally.”

  “How’s the girl doing?” Jack knew his wife was worried about this new patient of hers, Felicia Rodriguez. Spending the morning at home with him and the kids had been hard for her to do. If anyone other than Dr. Stanley Mansfield were watching over her, he guessed she would have been tempted to drive to Midland hospital to check on her patient.

  “Fine. Stanley sent blood down to the CDC. They told him it could be a week, maybe even longer, before they get back.”

  “So long?”

  “They’re overloaded. Felicia’s stable and there’s no sign that whatever she has is infectious so…”

  “For once, you’re low man on the totem pole.”

  “Pretty much.”

  They walked along in silence. Ahead, they heard Buddy bark. The girls screamed and then laughed as the big dog raced through the leaves.

  “How are you doing?” Lauren asked. Her tone made Jack understand it wasn’t a casual question. A simple ‘fine’ wasn’t going to cut it. As if by some unspoken rule, neither of them had discussed Nate Huckley since they’d been home.

  “The way he came after us, it was crazy. Like he hated us or something. But what’s bothering me is how fast it all happened. I mean, one minute everything is great, the next there’s a maniac trying to kill the kids. I guess stuff like this happens, it’s just…”

  “It’s not supposed to happen to us.”

  “Something like that.”

  “No one ever thinks things will happen to them. I’ve been around enough trauma rooms to know that. I’ve seen the look on people’s faces when they come in. It’s not pain or fear. Usually it’s disbelief. Shock that something that bad could actually happen to them.”

  They crunched through the pile of leaves in their path. Lauren leaned into him and took his arm. “Is there any way you could have misinterpreted what happened?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, maybe Huckley was trying to help. He got offended when you told him to get away. Maybe he was drunk, I don’t know.”

  Jack stopped walking. “Lauren, the man tried to break into the car while I was in it. He tried to run down our kids.” His voice was rising. “There was a kidnapped woman in the trunk of his car for Christ’s sake. What else do you need?”

  “Don’t get mad at me. I’m just trying to figure this all out. I believe you, Jack. I do. But I just don’t understand how the girl’s body could disappear.”

  Jack turned away and laced his fingers together behind his neck. He took a few deep breaths to calm down.

  “Could it have been the shadows?” Lauren asked carefully. “Something that looked like a face?”

  Jack didn’t turn around. “She was right in front of me. There was no mistake.”

  Lauren looked up the trail. “Did the girls see her?”

  Jack turned around and shook his head. “I don’t know. It was so dark.”

  “We’ve got to encourage them to talk about it.”

>   “I thought they told you about it in the hospital. What’d they say?

  “They asked me about the bad man.”

  “What’d you tell them?” Jack asked.

  “That he couldn’t hurt them anymore. And that he was very sick and in the hospital.”

  “They didn’t mention the girl before but maybe if we talk to them again. We just have to be careful. Kids can have false memories if something is heavily suggested to them.”

  “You’re the doc. It’s just that they act like nothing happened. I hate to drag them back through it.”

  “They may act like nothing happened but something did happen. We need to make sure they deal with it and not internalize it.”

  “I guess you’re right. When should we do it?”

  “Sooner the better.”

  “All right. Let’s head back. Let’s find out what they saw.”

  TWENTY

  “Pancakes are served,” Lauren said as she carried the steaming plate of hot cakes from the kitchen to the breakfast table.

  The girls scrambled to their chairs, hungry from their morning walk. The pancakes disappeared quickly, chased down by frothy glasses of chocolate milk. Becky burped after gulping the last half of her milk and Sarah laughed until tears ran down her cheeks. Jack and Lauren, not wanting to encourage the behavior, tried to contain themselves, but they found the girl’s laughter too infectious and were soon laughing along with them. When the girls slowed down a little, Jack added a burp of his own and they all busted up again.

  After the plates were cleared they sat at the table together. “Girls, we want to talk to you about last night.” Jack said.

  “About the crash?” Becky asked.

  “Yes, about the crash. Your mom and I want to make sure you girls know that it’s O.K. to talk about it.”

  “If you feel scared or anything, you can talk to us,” Lauren added.

  Both of the girls looked down at the table. Lauren and Jack exchanged looks. Jack spoke up. “I’ve got to tell you, I was scared.”