The Frozen Man

by Lex Sinclair

  ‘What about the pub?’

  ‘What about it?

  Derek didn’t have an answer.

  Am I making the right decision? God, I hope so, for Rhian’s sake as well as my own. She wasn’t supposed to say yes to his crazy proposal. And now that she’d accepted, he couldn’t very well turn her down. He would feel a lot safer with Rhian by his side in his terrified condition... but not if her it meant his actions put his daughter’s life in mortal danger.

  ‘Then it’s settled.’ His voice quavered noticeably.

  25

  The front door to the pub had a CLOSED sign on it and another identical one in the front window.

  Derek had clambered off the mattress, finished the can of Coke, then refilled it with water and took a banana and an apple out of the fruit bowl before returning to the cottage. He could do with something solid in him; with a bit of luck it would help settle his unsettled stomach. Rhian had got behind the wheel and waited for him to lock the back door, when it crossed Derek’s mind that he may never see his home ever again.

  Stop it! For God’s sake, that’s how losers think .And you’re not a loser and neither is Rhian.

  He checked the door was locked. Satisfied, he stepped down off the doorstep and made his way to the idling Skoda. He opened the back door on the passenger side and laid the double-barrelled shotgun on the seat, and then slammed the passenger door shut behind him, put his seat belt on, and bit a large chunk out of the succulent green apple and chewed.

  Rhian looked at him. ‘Are you sure you wanna do this?’ she asked, hoping he’d change his mind.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I just wanna make sure I haven’t gone completely mad.’

  Rhian patted his knee and reversed the car out onto the deserted road. As they began moving forward, picking up speed as they drove further away from their home, Derek made a silent prayer.

  ***

  Rhian switched the engine off outside the cottage once the front of the vehicle faced the dirt road in case they needed to make a hasty getaway. ‘You want me to come with you?’

  Derek didn’t appear to be listening. He was too busy looking left to right over both shoulders and checking the rear view mirror and the wing mirrors for anyone who might be lurking around the side of his friend’s residence, ready to assail them. When he saw no one in his vision, he said, ‘No. Just stay put. I’ll know where you are at all times then.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be safer if I came with you, rather than risk being stuck in here?’

  ‘You said you’d stay in the car,’ he said, alarmed.

  ‘I know I did. But if you go inside and that thing comes out here, I’ll be on my own. I won’t be able to drive off, because you will be left stranded.’

  ‘Goddamn it!’ he snapped. The frustration filled his cheeks a scarlet hue.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ she said, resting her hand on his shoulder. Derek winced. ‘Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise you were hurt.’

  ‘I’m not. It’s just where it gripped me, that’s all. Sends shivers down my spine.’

  ‘All the more reason for me to come with you - be the eyes in the back of your head, in case it creeps up on you.’

  Derek rubbed his furrowed brow. ‘We’ll just have quick look around, and then come straight back out and go home, ‘kay?’ Rhian nodded. She didn’t want to be out here any more than he did. ‘Don’t touch anything, and I mean anything.

  And whatever you do, don’t you dare wander off under any circumstances.’

  She removed her seat belt, took the keys from the ignition and then stepped outside, shut the door, but didn’t lock it.

  ‘Stay behind me at all times,’ Derek said.

  Derek retrieved the shotgun from of the back seat, checked to make sure the weapon was loaded and that he had more ammunition in the top pocket of his plaid shirt prior to removing the safety switch and begun moving stealthily towards the front door tentatively, which was now shut. The fear quickened with every step, unable to control the jackhammer beat of his heart. He gestured for Rhian to keep silent. Then he reached out, grasped the handle, turned the knob and eased the door open, cringing at the creaking noise it made, which gave their position away to anyone inside.

  The sun cast a dim glow in the gloomy interior. They scanned the room, hearts thudding in unison. The living room/bedroom area seemed to be void of all evil and ominous presence. As Derek turned his head to the left hand side of the room, he spotted the ancient, leather-bound tome lying on the floor. He must have dropped it when the hideous creature had startled him. He regarded his daughter, signalled her to follow him under the archway into the kitchen. Rhian had also seen the book on the carpet, and realised her dad’s story was even more authentic than she first believed.

  Seeing the book he told her about with her own eyes made the situation eerie. She continued to look behind her, watching her dad’s back as they crept further into Charles’ silent, empty home. The bathroom and kitchen were both empty. It appeared that they were the only two people inside. Derek didn’t relax one iota, though. He had made that mistake once today already. He wasn’t about to make the same near-fatal error again. They skulked through the living room/bedroom area to the entrance, crossed the threshold back outside without closing the door behind them.

  The recognisable sight of the scenic mountains and the meandering road they’d travelled gave them both a touch of comfort they craved. Being outdoors in the sunlight as opposed to the stygian interior helped ease their nerves.

  However, neither Derek, nor Rhian assumed they were out of harms way, not yet.

  Derek’s clammy finger covered the trigger. He kept seeing his finger, in his mind’s eye, slip and inadvertently squeeze the trigger. They moved with extreme caution to the side of the cottage when they heard a faint clunk of something falling from inside the cottage. Rhian whirled. Derek did the same.

  His heart jolted when the back of her head was in the line of fire.

  ‘What was that?’ she whispered.

  Even in the sunlight he could see the colour had fallen out of her face. ‘I don’t know,’ he said.

  Rhian moved out of the way and allowed him take the lead. She wanted to run for the car, but wasn’t sure that would be a good idea. ‘It came from inside,’ she whispered.

  Derek didn’t look at her, but he nodded.

  How come we didn’t see anyone inside? It didn’t matter right now.

  Derek began edging back his way they came towards the entrance. He signalled for Rhian to stop and to be silent. Then he peeked around the doorframe, mentally preparing himself for the ghastly sight he’d seen earlier on.

  He pointed the business end of the gun through the doorway. He squinted into the gloom and repressed his growing irritation when he saw nothing amiss.

  ‘C’mon you fucker,’ he cursed under his breath. ‘Show yourself. Come on.’ He swallowed twice, trying to get rid of the catch in his throat.

  Derek didn’t believe the corpse walked out of the cottage after he fled from there earlier and disappeared into the environing woods... although that was a possibility, he supposed. Its gait was slow and clumsy, like a zombie in an old film he’d seen a couple of times late at night. They circled the sturdy stone building, listening intently and scanning the area meticulously before Derek put the safety switch back on his gun and lowered it. He shook his head. ‘I don’t understand it,’ he muttered. ‘How could it have disappeared?’

  Rhian didn’t know what to say. She stood by her father’s side, beginning to doubt his story, in spite of the fact that she wanted nothing more than to believe him.

  Derek kicked the stones on the dirt patch. Dust puffed up around them. ‘God damn it!’

  ‘Dad, relax. It’s probably better we didn’t see it, don’t you think?’

  He nodded. ‘Yeah... you’re r
ight. It’s just that you don’t believe me and neither will anyone else. At least not anyone who’s sane, anyway.

  Rhian chuckled.

  ‘It wasn’t meant to be a joke,’ he said.

  ‘I know.’

  He turned and faced the cottage once again. Then he pointed to the doorway.

  ‘You saw the book I told you about, though?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She was serious again.

  ‘Shall I get it, as proof?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘When you call the police and tell them that Charles is missing, this is the first place they’ll come. They’ll see the book on the floor themselves. But if you tell them about the book prior to them finding it for themselves, then they’ll think you’re talking crazy. You should also reconsider telling them the whole truth, as well.’

  Derek frowned. ‘Why?’

  Rhian rolled her eyes. ‘If you tell them you came up here and went into his house, you’ll automatically become a suspect.’

  ‘Aw, shit!’

  ‘They won’t believe the ‘Frozen Man’ theory, no matter how convincing it is.

  But they will believe that you had come up here killed Charles and then got rid of his body... or something along those lines.’

  Derek gritted his teeth. ‘You’re right. Perhaps I shouldn’t call them at all.’

  ‘I dunno,’ she said, ‘that’s your choice. But I reckon we should get outta here before we’re seen and decide how to proceed when we get home. If we start closing the pub all day long and act suspicious, people will think we’re up to no good.’

  He was glad he informed his daughter what had happened earlier and brought her along with him. Her intelligence in this stressful situation would more than likely make things a whole lot better than if he’d kept the dilemma to himself.

  They headed home just in time to open the pub as a few tourists dropped in for meal. Derek poured the drinks and Rhian cooked the food. Their jobs distracted their thoughts of Charles’s disappearance or transformation (depending on what you believed) and gave them something else to consider for a short while. Once the meals were cooked, Rhian took over behind the bar and let Derek saunter off upstairs for a much-needed shower. When he dried off and got changed into fresh clothes which weren’t stinking of sweat, he went downstairs to the kitchen and made himself a snack.

  Derek continued to deliberate on what he should do. Should he call the police and make it official? Or should he wait? Wait for what, though? What the hell did he think would happen if he waited a while longer? Charles to return as if nothing had happened? Or his carcass to turn up at his front door and order a drink? Maybe when he hit the sack tonight, he would wake up tomorrow and realise it had all been a terrible dream. Yeah right! The truth was, if Charles did walk into the pub tonight or tomorrow like nothing had happened, he would almost certainly faint, or die of fright.

  What did that hideous creature mean when it said “it’s me,” he wondered?

  Derek turned the TV on and lay on the end of the bed with his glass of orange juice, his packet of crisps and his pork pie, regretting going to his friend’s house earlier on.

  26

  The front door had been left open. He listened vigilantly in advance to getting out from his secret hiding place. He’d been very lucky not have been caught when he had made the sudden noise. When he heard the car driving off away from the cottage, he had waited another five minutes as a precaution, just in case it was a trick. Then he climbed down the chimney stack, covered in soot and rolled off the kindling logs, which he’d inadvertently kicked and made the noise that nearly cost him his second life. He grunted as his back hit the floor.

  Then he got to a vertical base, went to the front door and closed it shut, this time drawing the bolt.

  Being cramped up in the chimney above the fireplace for such a long time made his muscles scream and his bones ache. The creature entered the bathroom and studied his reflection in front of the sink and leapt back toppling over the rim of the bathtub.

  I am a monster! A creature from Hell! No wonder Derek looked panic- stricken, and ran away as fast as he could.

  He placed his splayed, frail skeletal fingers to his charcoal-burned features, watching as he raked and bits of ash crumbled into the washing basin, staining the porcelain. He cried out. The mirror cracked like a massive spider’s web, collapsing into tiny shards of glittering glass in the light. A hundred images of his gruesome-self stared back at him with huge, familiar eyes. He bent down and picked up the largest piece, held it up to the rotting, dead face - his face - only then understanding what he now was.

  The police would be here soon, he thought. They would come armed and ready, snooping around the place just like Derek had done. He needed to flee this place and take to the forest. In the forest he could hide, and go unseen by the police. If he stayed here, they were sure to find him. On first sight they’d more than likely shoot him. They would shoot to kill, too. For any chance of survival he had to leave the cottage. On second thoughts, though, did he actually want to survive? He wasn’t sure if he wanted to look like a burned carcass for the rest of his days. Then he thought of the others who had been unharmed while he’d suffered mans’ greatest loss - life. Hatred and rage ran through him like an unstoppable express train. He wanted vengeance. Why should he suffer (metamorphosis in mind and body), when the others lived in perfect harmony?

  He exited the bathroom and stared at the tome lying on the floor beside the recliner. He went over to the book, picked it up off the floor and riffled through the pages until he came to the story of the corpse found by the narrator in the graveyard sitting atop the headstone on a scorching hot summer day. That’s what I am - a twisted, brittle, grey monstrosity.

  A smile spread across his features.

  He stepped out of the cottage through the back door and ascended the knoll to the fringe of the forest. Darkness was his ally. It enveloped him. The trees made hissing sounds in the wind as he moved between them. He continued moving through the woodlands, keeping out of sight. The powers he now possessed were beyond his comprehension.

  ***

  Derek wiped the counter with a wet cloth, then put the coasters down and poured the customers their drinks. A group of backpackers had stopped by for the night. They had come all the way from London on a camping expedition.

  There were four of them in all: two boys and two girls, no more than twenty- years-old. They were occupying one of the booths, chatting amongst themselves and watching the Tennis match on the TV.

  Derek sat behind the bar nonchalantly cleaning the glasses. He was glad that he’d been kept busy during his shift. He still hadn’t made up his mind yet on whether or not to phone the police and inform them on Charles’ eerie disappearance. He wanted to make absolute certain he made the right decision, rather than do something in haste, which he would later regret.

  An hour passed rapidly. The group asked Derek where the trail was that would lead them to the log cabin. He gave them directions. He told them to stick to the trail and not wander off as it was pitch black and easy to get lost. They heeded his advice and thanked him for his help, put their backpacks on... then headed outside. The landlord stood at the front door and pointed them in the right direction. Once they’d found the trail, they turned and waved before being swallowed by the dark. Derek went back inside, poured himself a drink, and then watched the deciding set of the tennis match.

  He checked the clock on the wall - 7:56p.m. He sighed.

  What am I supposed to do? What’s the right thing to do?

  The pub was empty, so he took the opportunity to phone Charles’ house again.

  ‘Come on. Answer. Please.’ His intuition told it was no use. Yet he tried anyway. Perhaps he had imagined it, like Rhian said (although that was just wishful thinking).

&n
bsp; He slammed the phone down after twenty rings. He’d try once more in the morning and then he would finally succumb to call the police. Enough was enough. Furthermore, he still couldn’t get that awful image of the creature clasping a hand on his shoulder. The handprint had washed off but only after he’d scrubbed at it, vigorously in the shower until his skin was raw.

  ***

  The creature had trekked a few miles and could now see the meandering road which led to the dimly lit Travellers Pub. He decided to walk to the pub by using the trail leading to the log cabin where he would remain unseen. He crossed the deserted road into the dense forest. By the light of the silver moon, he could just about see ahead of him.

  Soon enough he would reach the spacious pub and shock the interfering landlord with his unexpected arrival.

  Derek had been calling all day. Now he would answer his call.

  The creature halted when he thought he heard inaudible voices amidst the trees.

  Had he imagined those voices? For a short while all he could hear was the sound of his own heavy breathing and the birds overhead. Then he heard a laugh reverberate through the innumerable pines. In the near distance he could just make out the log cabin ahead. There were toilets inside, a map on the wall, a water fountain and a first aid kit.

  Where exactly had that laugh come from?

  The creature jogged to the log cabin, leaping over fallen trees, hid behind the cabin wall and listened intently. The voices grew louder as they drew near.

  Panicking, he dashed into the log cabin, hurried to the men’s toilets, found a cubicle and locked it behind him and detected the stink of bleach from the bowl.

  Then he put the toilet seat down, got on it and hugged its decomposing legs close to his chest, sliding back until his back came to rest against the cistern... waiting, pleading that the people would walk on by and not notice his presence.

  He couldn’t let anyone see him. Not like this. There were too many of them. At the back of his throat, tiny feet scurried. He stifled a cough by straightening his hand out flat and reaching down, until its twig fingers pinched the kicking legs and retracted his claw from his orifice and gawked at the black cockroach, its mandibles clicking to be freed, that had found a way into his putrefying shell.