The Frozen Man

by Lex Sinclair

  Tom sighed loudly. Then he lowered himself down again, rolled the cadaver over so it faced him and held it by the crusty cranium. He pried the right eyelid open, peered inside. Much to his revulsion, the pupil had sunk beneath the eyelid, but the eyeball itself was white and moist, like a normal eye belonging to a person asleep - not dead.

  ‘That’s strange,’ he muttered.

  ‘What is?’ Charles wanted to know.

  Tom either didn’t hear his question because the cadaver had his full attention or he chose to deliberately ignore the old man.

  Charles jaw slackened when he saw Tom gently prodding the white of the lifeless eyeball, and then retracted his index finger and stared at it. His fingertip glistened in the burning light. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

  ‘My finger is wet,’ Tom said.

  Charles didn’t know what he meant by that comment immediately - then it finally dawned on him, ‘Oh shit.’

  ‘Oh shit.’ Kate echoed. ‘Oh shit, what?’

  Tom looked over his shoulder at Charles and said, ‘Help me get this thing in there, now.’

  Charles nodded.

  Tom stood by the creature’s head and Charles gripped it by the ankles.

  ‘On three,’ Tom said. ‘One... Two...’

  The creature seized Tom’s exposed neck and squeezed with inhuman strength...

  16

  Kate screamed at the top of her lungs, and this time the awesome wind didn’t drown out the awful high-pitched noise.

  Charles was too stunned to react for a couple of seconds. Then he stamped on the creature’s abdomen as hard as he possibly could. Sharp, needle-like pain sang through his arthritic bones. Fear overrode the agony in his marrow, and to his surprise, the creature grunted from the fierce impact. However, it didn’t release its taut, killer grip. He continued stomping frantically on the creature and yelled to Kate at the same time, ‘Get me a knife or something! Quick!’

  Kate threw herself off the springy mattress and darted to the kitchen. She took a knife out of the top drawer (the same one Charles had armed himself with a couple of weeks ago), and hurried back to the living room. Careful to avoid the creature’s reach, she handed the large bread knife to him. He took it off her and rammed the stainless steel blade into the creature’s chest, and was relieved when it let out a guttural, dying gasp. It released its grip from Tom’s throat instantly, and with its weakening hold, held the handle of the knife that had punctured its black heart. It tried in vain to pry the blade from where it protruded, but lost consciousness for the second time.

  Tom staggered to his feet, clutching his throat, terror-stricken, breathing heavily and coughing wildly. The creature’s sudden attack had terrified them all to silence. Charles collapsed in his recliner chair. The colour in his face drained, and he became light-headed in his shaken condition.

  ‘Is... it... dead?’ Tom choked.

  ‘I thought it already was,’ Charles muttered.

  ‘Haven’t you got a gun under your bed or somewhere close by?’ Kate cried.

  Charles shook his head and caressed his chest. ‘No. I’ve never liked guns.’

  ‘What’s wrong with your chest?’ Tom said, looking at the old man, anxious.

  ‘My heart’s beating like a drum,’ he said. ‘I’m too old for all of this excitement. Are you all right?’

  Tom gave him the thumbs up gesture, appreciating his concern. He was far from being all right, but he’d live. ‘I say we throw this thing in there.’ He pointed to the fire, ‘while we still have the chance...’

  ‘What if it attacks us again?’

  ‘The sooner we get it into the fire and watch it burn the less likely that’ll happen. Agreed?’

  Charles shrugged. ‘I guess so, Tom. Just lemme catch my breath for a sec.’

  Tom could see the old man looked dreadfully pallid and unwell.

  ‘Kate. Grab the ankles. We’ll haul it in the fire.’

  ‘No!’ Charles yelled. ‘I said I’d help you. Just give an old guy a chance to get his strength back, for Christ sake.’ With that said, Charles heaved himself out of the recliner and back onto his weary legs, crouched down, took hold of the brittle ankles, lifted the corpse off the carpet and waddled his way with Tom toward the crackling fire.

  ‘When we let go of him,’ Tom said, huffing once more, ‘remember to turn away from the back draft, okay?’

  The corded veins in the old man’s neck and face surfaced. They swayed the corpse back and forth, building up steady momentum and then let go, instantly turning their backs to the fire as the dead body flew through the lashing flames and crashed on top of the logs.

  They stepped back far enough so they could observe the fire and not feel the spitting ashes. Kate came and stood between them, and watched as the grey, twisted, brittle monstrosity burned to its final embers. Observing closely the way they were, expecting the corpse to come alive once again and leap from the fireplace and assail them, was almost hypnotic. Not one of them uttered a word or turned away for a second. Their eyes were fixed on the Frozen Man.

  The lively flames lapped up the corpse and savoured every last piece.

  ‘Is it over?’ Kate said, breaking a long silence which had fallen.

  Tom glanced at Charles, who stared straight ahead, and said, ‘Yeah. It’s over.’

  Could it ever be finally over? Charles pondered. Is that the last we’ll have to cope with it? Will the Frozen Man mythology leave us in peace for now and for ever? He sincerely hoped so. However, he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about what had happened to his dear friend, Carlton. If poor Carlton had in fact died in his sleep, suffering from a massive heart attack, it made the old man wonder what it was that had induced his untimely fatality. Young men who were as fit, lithe and vibrant as Carlton, didn’t die of a coronary thrombosis because they had a nightmare. That sort of thing didn’t occur without good reason. In spite of the recent events since January, Charles found it terribly difficult to believe it was all over and finished with. Perhaps he was just being paranoid.

  Tom nudged him gently in the shoulder, interrupting his thoughts, and said, ‘It’s over, Charles...’

  Charles peeled his eyes away from the blaze, met Tom’s eyes. ‘I hope so.’

  ‘I know so,’ Tom assured him and grinned.

  ***

  For the remainder of the evening they put the TV on, kept a close eye on the fire, sparks flying, smoke puffing up where the cadaver was laid to rest and talked about anything and everything else, except dead bodies, Carlton’s death, and anything else that could be construed as a melancholy conversation.

  Although, the presence of the corpse, now burning to bones, continued to make them wary throughout the evening.

  Charles took a bottle of whiskey, which he kept out of view under his bed for emergencies, and opened it. After the funeral earlier today and tonight’s terrifying events, he desperately needed something to strong to drink. Tom and Kate joined him for a couple of glasses. The old man was way ahead of them.

  He gulped down five glasses prior to them finishing their second glass. Tom rested his hand on Charles’ knee and spoke softly, ‘Take it easy, man.’

  The old timer felt a catch in his throat making it difficult to swallow.

  ‘Hey, hey,’ c’mon,’ Tom said, bringing his face closer to him. ‘Why so sad?

  We killed it. You should be delighted.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. It’s just... so much has happened today, I haven’t even had chance to get my head around it all.’

  ‘I know,’ Tom said.

  Charles regarded the skeleton resting in the fire, licking flames bursting out of the eye sockets and through the cracked, charcoal mouth. Before sunrise the bones would begin to disintegrate until there was nothing left except ashes.

  ‘We have comm
itted murder,’ he muttered under his breath. However, both Tom and Kate heard him clearly.

  ‘Kill or be killed,’ Tom said as a matter-of-factly; trying to justify what they had done. And although he was correct, it still didn’t free Charles of the worry and the remorse of their actions.

  ‘Doing what we did may come back to haunt us,’ Charles said.

  ‘If we didn’t do what we done, it would’ve killed us. Never mind about this supernatural bullshit, Charles. We had a real-life motherfucker of a problem on our hands not so long ago that would have come back to haunt us, trust me. If we hadn’t destroyed that evil thing,’ he said nodding to the carcass, ‘and Kate and I left you alone with it, just like before... You were damn fortunate to have escaped the clutches of death last time. You probably wouldn’t have been so fortunate a second time around. I didn’t exactly have a blast myself carrying a dead body, being nearly strangled to death by one, and then throwing one in a fire - but there are some things in life that have to be done for a reason. Nobody likes doing them, but it still has to be done.’

  Charles frowned at him. ‘I don’t want to argue, Tom. But how can you say “supernatural bullshit” when it was the paranormal that killed our friend?’ Tom didn’t have an answer. ‘A lot of things happen in life which are unexplainable,’ Charles went on, challenging Tom’s beliefs, ‘but this doesn’t stop it from actually happening, does it?’

  Tom’s throat was still sore from earlier. ‘No. I guess not,’ he said, morose.

  ***

  Kate and Tom slept in the old man’s bed later that night while Charles occupied his comfortable recliner chair, which he’d dozed off in more times than he could recall. Also, he wanted to sit close to the crackling fire in case something out of the ordinary cropped up while they were in their slumber.

  By the time the first light broke though and slanted through the living room window, the cadaver had started to crumble and break away into separate, charred pieces.

  After only an hour and forty five minutes of sleep, Charles blinked his heavy eyes open. He glimpsed the clock on DVD: 6:23a.m. It was still very early to be getting up. Yet Charles didn’t feel like dropping off again, even if it was possible. To his surprise he wasn’t the slightest bit tired. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Tom and Kate slept peacefully. Good for them. I wish I could sleep. Just gazing at them laying in his bed, close together, they looked so adorable and right for each other. It made the old man wonder what his life might have been like if he had met a terrific woman and they’d fallen deeply in love. Perhaps it would be him still asleep in bed this morning sharing the bed with his wife or girlfriend.

  A profound melancholy swept through him. He was too old, too tired to find love now. Instead of drinking his youth away, maybe he should have woken up to all the possibilities he had ignored when he was in his physical prime. Life was too damn short, he thought. Here he was in his mid-fifties with bad arthritis and other bodily pains and discomforts, all because he’d abused his body with smoking, drinking and brawling. He sat in his recliner, staring at his two trustworthy friends, envying what they had: love.

  Love changes everything.

  Because of him, their wonderful life together had been turned upside down.

  He wasn’t about to let that happen again. No way. Burning the cadaver had been the right thing to do. Tom was right. Now, Charles wanted more than anything else, to see his friends truly happy and not to be bothered by any more frightening tales about colours in the sky and being assaulted by a hideous creature from another world.

  For the next hour and a half Charles sat in his recliner reading a paperback novel. The book was about real-life ghost sightings.

  When Tom and Kate awoke Charles put the kettle on, then made them all some toast. It was a chilly morning. Kate remarked how she could smell the sweet, refreshing aroma from the pines on the hilltops. Tom used a shovel from the shed to break up the fragments of skeleton, so that it eventually burned away a lot quicker the next time the cavernous fire was used.

  After breakfast, Kate packed their belongings into the car when it was time to take their leave. Charles stood on the doorstep, resisting the urge to let the tears escape him, as they drove down the dirt road to the front gate, and then onto the meandering road leading off the mountains away from his home. Because Carlton had passed away so unexpectedly, Charles wasn’t certain he would see his other two friends again, either. They’d promised to keep in contact, and he knew this time they both meant it more so than previously - but there was no guarantee about anything any more, not after what had transpired last night.

  If the dead could come back to life then they could certainly die in their dreams, too.

  It had happened to Carlton; therefore it could happen to any one of them.

  17

  The grey, twisted, brittle, monstrosity sat atop the garden wall in the dead of night staring at her with an unflinching dead-like gaze. She wondered where she was for a moment. Then she studied her surroundings and realised she was standing on the lawn in the back yard, wearing only her flimsy, transparent nightgown, shivering, her skin crawling with gooseflesh.

  What am I doing out here all alone? Why is there a corpse perched on the garden wall, sheathed in silvery, sinewy hair looking at me? None of it made any sense. Yet it didn’t make the corpse disappear, or the turn night into day, or cause any other alterations. It must be real!

  The gentle breeze fluttered her flimsy nightgown, chilling her skin.

  The back door was closed. She saw her reflection in the dim glass of the kitchen window. Her pale flesh seemed to glow in the darkness. Where was Tom? she wondered.

  Terrified at the sight of the corpse sitting on the garden wall facing her, Kate hurried to the back door, only to find it was locked, much to her despair. She rapped on the glass panel, cautious not to crack the glass and waited impatiently for Tom to open the door for her. She pressed her ear against the glass and listened intently for the sound of footfalls approaching, but all she could hear was the thudding of her heart. Then she rapped on the glass, not caring if the panel smashed to fragments, much harder and shouted, ‘Tom! Tom! Answer the door! It’s me, Kate!’ Although the handle wouldn’t budge as the door was locked from the inside, Kate tried it again, growing more fearful by the second.

  ‘C’mon! C’mon!’

  Yet still there was no reply from inside. Surely, Tom must’ve heard me knocking and shouting? Any louder and I’ll wake the whole damn street, if I haven’t already.

  ‘Answer, damn it!’

  Where the hell was he? Tom wasn’t a known deep sleeper. In fact more often than not he had a lot of trouble getting sufficient rest at the best of times. Their bedroom window was directly above the kitchen. He couldn’t possibly have slept through the din she had made. Could he? Then a thought came to Kate and made her squirm. Maybe Tom wasn’t even in the house. She wasn’t, after all. It must have been passed midnight, because as far as Kate could see there were no lights on in any of the neighbours’ homes. Tom might well be outside, like her.

  If so, what were they both doing standing outside in the middle of the night when they ought to be tucked up in their bed like everyone else? What had caused them to be outside at this late hour?

  ‘Kate,’ a hoarse voice said, loud enough so she could hear.

  She very slowly turned around, dreading what she might see.

  The voice which spoke her name was unknown to her. The voice could have belonged to anyone, and even though she’d never heard the hoarse voice until tonight, she was perfectly aware of who - or more correctly - what had called out to her.

  Kate shrieked at the top of her burning lungs.

  She saw that the rotting corpse no longer sat atop the garden wall. Instead it had climbed off, while she’d been banging on the back door and shouting - and now stood on the lawn a few yards
in front of her. Kate’s cries would not do her any good now. She could smell the pungent scent emanating from the walking corpse and gagged. When she looked at it again, Kate noticed the shape before her had moved closer, within touching distance. The shadowy, silhouetted shape opened its shiny, blue eyes and regarded her. Kate clapped a hand over her mouth, cutting off her scream, gaping at the grotesque creature roaming its attentive eyes up and down her. It reached out a hand, and she instinctively recoiled.

  ‘Trust me, Kate,’ the hoarse voice said.

  With that said, Kate’s hand dropped away from her open mouth, astonished.

  ‘You know my name?’

  The corpse nodded.

  ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘Nothing,’ the corpse said. ‘I am here to grant you a wish.’

  Kate looked perplexed. ‘A wish?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What kind of wish?’

  ‘Any wish that you ask for.’

  The breeze whipped her hair into her face. She swept it back out of her eyes with her trembling hand and asked, ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you saved me,’ the creature told her.

  ‘Saved you? Saved you from what?’

  ‘Perpetual misery,’ it croaked.

  ‘What are you?’

  A broad grin crept across its face, causing flaky bits of flesh to crumble and fall to the soggy ground. ‘I am... the Frozen Man!’ The whites of its eyes shone in the night.

  ‘We saved you?’

  Again the corpse nodded. ‘What is your wish?’ it asked.

  Kate smiled nervously. She could hardly believe she was being granted a wish by a walking, talking corpse. But after all the other surreal events since the New Year, nothing seemed impossible to her any more.

  ‘I’m not sure what to wish for.’

  ‘Look deep inside your heart and find the one thing you have been longing for, then you will know your truest, deepest desires.’

  Kate lowered her head, closed her eyes and contemplated hard about what the one thing she would want more than anything else in the whole world. When the answer finally came to her, she wasn’t at all surprised by her choice. In fact it was pretty obvious what she wanted. She raised her head and fixed her eyes on the Frozen Man. ‘I want a baby of my own.’