The Frozen Man

by Lex Sinclair

  The corpse nodded, as though it understood her emotions. ‘Your wish is my command.’

  A brilliant flash of light blinded Kate. And in the cloudy distance she heard a beeping noise. The beeping noise suddenly became noisy and authentic, as she departed the vastness of cloudiness and came to. The mattress beneath her moved and the beeping noise stopped abruptly.

  When she heard the yawning of a male lying beside her, Kate realised - much to her regret - that the whole incident with the putrid corpse talking to her, had been a cruel dream. Or maybe now she was only beginning to confront her pain and emptiness of not being allowed to have children. She would love nothing more than to raise a child; to love and care for him or her. The worst thing about it all was she would see women, dragging a child around the town centre, ordering him or her to ‘shut up’ or in some cases, even striking the innocent child. Those types of women didn’t really want children. They just wanted to live on welfare because they were too damn indolent to do some work. Instead they had unprotected sex with almost any man that would be stupid enough to have intercourse with them, and not care about the child’s welfare thereafter.

  Kate would never do such a thing. She would be a good mother, and Tom would have made an excellent father. He was already a good, regular provider.

  Why was life so unfair? Why did bad things happen to good people? They were probably the two oldest, unanswered questions in the history of the world, Kate thought.

  ‘Time to get up,’ Tom said. He pulled back the quilt, slid out of bed and then waddled his way to the bathroom to urinate.

  Awake, Kate sat up in bed and sighed. Even with the bathroom door closed she could hear Tom emptying his bowels. Opposite the bathroom next to the brink of the staircase was the spare bedroom - empty; waiting to be occupied by a little boy or a little girl.

  In autumn last year, Tom had cleared the bedroom of his belongings and carried them up to the attic and to the loft in the garage, specifically in anticipation of a baby boy or girl. He’d even had a cream carpet put down, cleared the room of any dust and debris, then bought two pots of paint, one blue, and one pink depending on their newborn’s gender. All their good-intentioned endeavours had been in vain. The empty bedroom was unused and a waste of space - lifeless. It broke Kate’s heart to walk by that room every morning knowing that it would never be occupied by her child. Thinking about it only brought an endless supply of hot tears to her eyes. That cruel dream she’d thought was real brought the never-ending agony to the surface along with a profound melancholy she knew would never ebb.

  The toilet flushed from behind the bathroom door.

  Sitting in bed dwelling on her loses wasn’t going to help her. She needed to get up and get on with her life. Lots of women who would have made wonderful mothers, never got the opportunity. She was just one of many. Anyway, Tom had mentioned a while ago about getting a pup or a kitten. It wasn’t the same by any means. However, it would be nice to have a pup or a kitten running about the house for her to adore and coddle.

  She wondered what Charles was up to right about now. Over the last three months she’d grown fond of his friendship, in spite of the harrowing events that took place whenever she and Tom were in his company.

  Tom washed his hands, brushed his teeth vigorously, then emerged from the bathroom, wide awake and ready to take on whatever obstacles he faced that day. Kate got dressed in her denim jeans and black T-shirt. When Tom came back into the bedroom she headed to the bathroom busting to use the toilet.

  Tom crossed the room to the window, parted the curtains and let the resplendent sun shine on him, like soft, warm hands. Although he’d slept well last night, Tom had been troubled by a rather peculiar dream he couldn’t seem to make any sense of. He dreamt the twisted, brittle, grey, monstrosity they’d encountered in Charles’s shed and cottage two nights ago, was still in the loft above the garage, still hidden out of sight behind the cardboard boxes he’d concealed it with. Unlike most dreams he’d had, the one last night had been clear and vivid, so much that even now it appeared to be as tangible as standing by the window right now, partially blinded by the radiant sunshine. He could still feel the taut grip of the corpse around his exposed neck. Or was that his memory, recalling the terrifying incident and making him remember its death- grip? He wasn’t certain.

  Anyway, in the dream, a hand seized him in the dark, catching hold of his wrist. He had yelped, and then stumbled backwards, arms flailing, tripping over his feet, losing his balance and falling hard to the floor. It actually felt as though his body shook from the shuddering impact and his head smacked the floorboards, coughing from the film of dust. Tom couldn’t recollect a nightmare that life-like, ever. In fact most dreams were a blur and hazy. Then when a day of two had passed he couldn’t even bring to mind what any of them had been about. Numerous of times he recalled saying to Kate or his mum or dad, ‘I had a dream last night, but I can’t remember what it was about.’ Yet this nightmare he could evoke as though it were something that occurred during the day while he’d been wide awake and alert.

  In his dazed state in the dream, Tom saw the flesh-decaying hand push the cardboard boxes aside and emerge from the darkness. He tried to get up, but he was still stunned from the blow to his head. Instead he had no choice but to lie there unable to flee from the rotting pungent corpse. ‘Oh, God!’ he cried.

  The creature looked even more gruesome in the gloom of the loft than it did in Charles’s shed or cottage. This horrid sight in front of him with a stolid expression scared him more than when he’d been caught in its overpowering clutches.

  ‘You’re dead!’ he had exclaimed. ‘You’re dead! We killed you! We watched you burn! This isn’t happening. It can possibly be happening. No way!’

  The putrid corpse put its rigid finger to the black, charcoal lips to silence him.

  It worked. Tom said no more. He ordered his brain to send a signal to his body so that he would get up off the floor and get out of harms way. ‘Tom... Tom, listen to me very carefully,’ the corpse said in an even voice, standing over him, a malignant force, leering. Tom wanted to ask what it wanted, but he thought better of it. He’d been kindly asked to be quiet, so that’s what he was going to do.

  Sprawled out on the floor, inhaling the dust and grime, he realised that the corpse had made him fall over and thump his head on the hardwood surface. No wonder he couldn’t move. He wasn’t even in control of his bodily functions.

  The corpse was. He felt the little hairs on his arms rise to attention at that notion.

  ‘Do you know who I am?’

  Tom tried to nod, but found that he was unable. Instead he said, ‘Yes.’

  ‘Who am I?’

  ‘The corpse we burned at Charles’s house a couple of days ago.’

  ‘Wrong.’

  Tom’s throat shrunk, taut.

  ‘Who am I?’

  Tom didn’t want to do this. He didn’t want to be lying here in the loft above the garage at this creature’s mercy, not having a clue what the right answer might be. If there was an actual right answer at all. Maybe this whole interrogation was a big game where no matter what he said would end with the same fate. And he didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what his horrible fate would be. ‘I don’t know.’ Tom visibly shook. If the creature wanted to kill him, he just wished he’d hurry up and get it over with.

  ‘Think, Tom. What did your friend Charles call me?’

  Tom couldn’t think straight, let alone remember a specific detail that may or may not save his life. He began to sob. ‘I dunno. Please... I’m sorry. The only reason we burned you is ‘cause you tried to kill Charles, and then me.’

  The corpse crouched down, bringing its ghastly face closer to Tom’s. ‘I’ll give you a clue,’ it said, completely ignoring Tom’s last comment. ‘It had something to do with my condition when you discovered me in the
forest.’

  ‘The Frozen Man!’ Tom blurted, after a few seconds passed. ‘The Frozen Man! That’s correct, isn’t it?’

  A hideous grin crawled across the brittle flesh. ‘Well done, Tom. That is the correct answer. Now, how would you like me to repay you for setting me free from the world into the everlasting?’

  Tom shook his head. ‘You don’t have to reward me. I don’t deserve a reward.

  I just wanna be left alone, so I can live out the rest of my life in peace... nothing more.’

  ‘You want eternal peace. Yes?’

  ‘I just wanna go back to leading a normal life, that’s all.’

  ‘You’re a man of simple pleasures, I see.’

  ‘That’s right. All I want is peace of mind... and I’m truly sorry for burning you the way we did. We were just afraid you might hurt us again.’

  ‘Your wish is to have a normal, mundane lifestyle and to have peace of mind?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Your wish... is granted.’

  Tears slid across Tom’s face into his ears. ‘Th-Th-Thank you.’

  ‘Your welcome.’

  When he’d awoken, Tom’s eyes were still wet, but he found himself lying in bed next to his wife, and not in the loft above the two-car garage, sobbing and coughing because of the dust. The dream had disturbed him immensely. Yet it was more than likely the cause of too many surreal incidents with dead bodies and scary stories accumulating in his mind, creating the vivid hallucination. Or was it his subconscious informing him that he’d done a dreadful deed hurling the corpse into the fire? But that didn’t make sense. He believed one-hundred percent that burning the carcass was the only sensible option; especially after his near-death encounter with the ungodly thing.

  ***

  Charles startled awake that same morning, also having had a similar dream to Kate and Tom. Although in his dream, he’d been locked in the dark shed at night when the creature extracted the garden fork from its abdomen and started talking to Charles in the same hoarse voice his two friends heard in their separate nightmares.

  At 11:00a.m, Charles decided to go for a long, brisk walk over the hilltops to clear his turmoil thoughts. He deliberated on phoning Tom and Kate and telling them about his terrifying nightmare and being asked by the creature to make a wish. But he kept thinking about what Tom said to him on the day he and Carlton went to collect the cadaver from their home.

  Kate was still doing her utmost to come to terms with the fact that she would never be able to give birth. He had no idea how much that affected the poor woman. No idea at all. The last thing they needed, especially after burning a dead body in his home, was for him to call them and report every little thing relating to the corpse or the Frozen Man myths. Tom had been right: it was time to start living like normal people again. It was time to start living everyday lives. If he’d listened to Tom in the first instance none of this would have happened. Yet it was rather uncanny and bizarre that the day after he’d told them the story of the Frozen Man, they should stumble upon one in the surrounding forest. It was almost like fate had made them discover the body in the block of ice.

  What made them all come together on the same night? What made them go through the forest the following day? What made them all decide to cut the body down and stash it in the boot of Tom’s car? In spite of his continuous remonstrations, Tom still hauled the corpse into the back of the car. But why?

  There were too many strange occurrences going on in such a short space of time. There had to be some sort of plausible reason behind it, Charles thought.

  Was it all just a humongous coincidence or did this have to do with the Frozen Man legend he’d read about? As much as he wanted to believe the former, the latter was the more probable explanation.

  Carlton dying in his sleep due to a massive heart attack, could’ve been almost anything. Yet the old man’s intuition informed him that it had something to do with the Frozen Man. If Carlton was an old man, like himself, who didn’t look after his body, then it would be much easier to conceive that the heart attack had been caused by natural causes.

  The corpse, which had fled Tom and Kate’s house, then hid itself in the back of his Jeep, confirmed everything for him. It put all his doubts to rest. Charles knew then that the Frozen Man story was true. It hadn’t been some fictional yarn made up by his father just to get him to sleep one night, like he first assumed.

  Charles recalled his dad telling him, ‘I’d never lie to you. If I did, how could you put your trust in me or anyone else that lies?’ His dad, as always, had been right. Once someone began telling lies to you, you could never fully trust them.

  Nevertheless, Charles wished now that the Frozen Man story had been a lie.

  Charles liked Tom and Kate very much. He decided as he ascended the zenith, that he wasn’t going to call them, otherwise his constant pestering would ruin his friendship with them. After all the misery they’d been through lately, Charles was surprised that Tom had forgiven him at all. He was glad he met them, though, regardless of the dreadful events which followed shortly after, and on every occasion they’d been in each others company. They were good, decent, kind-hearted people, who comforted him when he broke down at Carlton’s funeral and had given him some company, even though they were going out of their way to do so. He hoped the next time they met up, they would go for a drink or do something peaceful and relaxing and talk about everything except myths, dead bodies and Carlton’s horrendous fatality.

  He hoped.

  He could see the pines swaying to and fro in the gentle breeze and listened to the musical whisper of the branches. Going for long strolls high up in the mountains did Charles a lot of good. The clean, fresh air cleared his nicotine- contaminated lungs.

  In his nightmare, the creature asked Charles what he desired more than anything else. The old man was tempted to say an attractive glamour model type woman for a loyal girlfriend - but for some reason he knew that would wear off in time if he’d been granted that wish. Deep down, he knew he would only ever want to be with a woman if she sincerely loved him; not because he made a wish and the wish came true.

  As an alternative he wished that he had perfect health like when he was a young man. He wanted to be able to go for a jog and not be panting and wheezing after a minute. Charles wanted to be able to take a piss in the morning without it stinging like an angry wasp. He wanted to feel alive again like before; he wanted to be full of fitness and vitality, like his late friend, Carlton. He remembered the envy washing through him as he watched Carlton, effortlessly climb the towering pine that fateful day in the forest. He marvelled at how easy Carlton made it look because of his incredible, natural agility. He’d been in awe of Carlton’s athleticism ever since.

  No way on this earth in this lifetime would that ever come true, he thought.

  Charles had had his chance to take pleasure in his youth, but he wrecked it by wrecking himself into the haggard, feeble physical condition he was today.

  The air was fragrant with pine tree essence.

  Charles wondered what it would be like if he could be young and healthy again. The possibilities were endless. He shook his head and smiled. Sure would be nice, though. To go back and do the things that you missed out on.

  Unbeknownst to Charles, Kate and Tom, their vivid dreams were very real.

  Their wishes, however, would come true.

  There is an old adage that say’s, Be careful what you wish for.

  Charles, Tom and Kate would know the meaning of that adage very soon...

  18

  Tom steered his car onto the drive, and killed the engine. It had been yet another long hard, hectic day in work. But thankfully it was Friday, at long last, and now he could relax and enjoy the weekend.

  A week had passed since Tom dreamed about the creature in the loft asking him what he w
anted. Normality returned with abundance, much to his delight.

  He’d got on with his life, and put all the recent events in the back of his mind.

  Now, the only thing Tom kept thinking about was wetting his dry lips with a couple of cold beers, putting his feet up and doing nothing except read and watch TV for the remainder of the day.

  Kate’s birthday was approaching. He would have to ask her if there was anything in particular he could get her for the occasion. Or he could just surprise her with lots of red roses and expensive chocolates. She’d like that, he thought, and smiled.

  When he entered his home, Tom expected to see Kate sitting down in the living room - but the living room area was void of her presence. She must be in the kitchen. He closed the front door shut. Then put his keys on the oval table next to the phone and made his way into the kitchen. That was also empty. Tom frowned. Usually, Kate would be downstairs at the time when he came home.

  Or she would often call out if she was in the kitchen or upstairs. Not today, though.

  He stood at the bottom of the stairs and called out, ‘Kate. Can you hear me?

  I’m home, case you’re wondering.’ He listened intently. For a couple of seconds all he could hear was the quiet humming of the refrigerator, then a soft, muffled sob from somewhere upstairs. He hurried up the stairs and noticed right away the bedroom door was closed. During the day the door was left open. Only at night when they were both in bed, ready for some shut-eye and fun under the covers, did they close it.

  Tom knocked on the door, and then hesitantly pushed it open. He didn’t know what he expected to see... although it didn’t sound promising.

  His shoulders slumped, relieved when he saw Kate sitting on the edge of the bed snivelling. At least she’s not hurt, he thought. He wasn’t certain of that just yet, though. She was crying, after all. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, as he made his way round to the side of the bed.