Frostbitten: The Complete Series (11 page)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
DIVINE INTERVENTION

Jalene ended up being fined for breaking her restraining order. Tanner and Jacob were still completely ignorant to who the crying woman was—they simply remembered her as “the crazy crying lady”.

The next day, a tall slender white man with a thick moustache showed up at Jalene’s door. He discreetly showed her a police badge, and politely asked her to get into his car. The undercover cop didn’t want to make a scene, and he didn’t want to embarrass the disgraced mother.

Jalene refused to go with him. The cop begged her to be civil for her own sake. “I don’t want to have to use the cuffs,” he said. “I don’t want this to be embarrassing.”

“Where are you taking me?” Jalene asked.

“Mrs. White—I’m afraid you’ve broken the conditions of your working Visa. You’re being deported.”

“But—But I’ve only been here a few months. I established residency,” she said.

“You’ll be able to reapply for another Visa in five years, once the restraining order expires.”

“Please—I spent ten years getting this Visa. Please don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, Mrs. White. It’s not my decision.”

“My children—I just want to see my children.”

“The sooner you get home, the sooner you’ll be able to apply for re-entry into the country. Now please—I need you to understand that I’m trying to be nice here. If you are charged with resisting arrest, you might never be able to see your kids.”

Jalene wished a bolt of lighting would strike her in the head. Reluctantly, she went with the officer, without resistance. The two got into the officer’s discreet undercover car.

“You will have to arrange for your things to be picked up and sent back to you,” the officer explained as he came up to a red light. “I’ll give you a list of movers who can do…”

Bam!

Before the undercover officer could finish his sentence, a speeding 1969 Mustang Mach 1 struck the car from behind. The undercover cop’s car slid across the whole intersection—six lanes. It finally stopped as it was struck by another car travelling in the other direction. The officer slammed the back of his head against his car seat, and the front of his head against the steering wheel when the air bag failed to launch.

Jalene hit her nose against the dashboard, but was otherwise okay—aside from some painful whiplash.

The officer was knocked unconscious, bleeding badly from the top of his head. Jalene was quick to act—She opened up her door and stumbled out of the car. There were half a dozen other cop cars behind her, as well as the ’69 Mustang. Smoke billowed out of the muscle car, with a large dent in its front bumper, and a bent hood.

The cops seemed much more interested in the Mustang than they did in Jalene—so she started to run. She didn’t stop running until she was in the centre of town, where she hid inside of the town’s historic clock tower.

She spent a week inside of that cold clock tower, only leaving briefly to buy small bags of chips and bandages from a nearby drug store.

Divine intervention.

That’s what she called it. “The Lord wants me to have my children,” she told herself. In her mind, there was no other logical explanation for the accident.

On the day of Tanner’s thirteenth birthday, she watched the Clarkson house for hours, waiting for the boys to leave. Once they did, she followed them and waited for the perfect chance to make her move.

“Jacob? Tanner?” she said, tapping the two boys on the back, a few houses down from the Clarkson’s house.

Jacob and Tanner spun around swiftly.

“Who the hell are you?” Jacob asked.

“I’m here to take you away—to bring you back home,” she said. Her dirty old clothes were still covered in the blood from her broken nose. She looked like an insane person.

Tanner and Jacob laughed, realizing that it was the “crazy crying lady” from the store.

“Screw off lady,” Tanner said.

“Please—You need to come home now. Come home with mommy.”

Tanner and Jacob laughed again.

“She’s freaking insane,” Tanner said to his brother.

“Tanner—don’t be a dick,” Jacob said.

“What? It’s true.”

“Boys—Please. We need to hurry,” Jalene said. “I’ll explain it all later.”

“What are you talking about, lady?” Jacob asked.

“I’m your mother—your real mother.”

“Our mother?”

“I can prove it,” she said, reaching into her pocket. With her, she had photos of her and Russell, with the brothers when they were just babies. Then, she pulled out her driver’s licence, which read “Jalene White”.

“Is she lying?” Tanner asked Jacob. “She’s lying, right?”

“W—Where did you get this?” Jacob asked.

“I told you—I’m your mother. Really—I am.”

“Jacob—Tell her she’s insane. Please tell her that she’s insane. Why aren’t you telling her?” Tanner was becoming frantic and nervous.

“It’s okay, Tanner. It’s going to be fine. You’ll be happy.”

“Jacob?” Tanner said.

Jacob was completely silent—in too much shock to reply.

“Jacob—Tell her she’s insane,” Tanner said. Tears were forming in Tanner’s eyes.

“You just left us—You just left…” Jacob said.

“I didn’t have a choice. They made me leave. They wouldn’t let me take you with me.”

“Why?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Why?” Jacob yelled, quickly becoming angrier.

Jacob pushed his mother aggressively.

“Hey!” Mr. Clarkson yelled, witnessing the act form the front steps of his house. “What are you doing here? I’m calling the police!” He immediately recognized the disgraced mother.

Jacob backed off from his biological mother and stared her in the eye. “You should be ashamed of yourself,” he said.

Jalene handed her son a note. “I can explain everything,” she said. She tried her best to hold back her tears.

Noticing that Mr. Clarkson was on the phone with the police, Jalene started to run away.

“Jacob?” Tanner said. “She wasn’t really our mom, was she?”

“I think she was, Tanner.”

The note simply read, “I’ll be waiting at the clock tower.”

The next day, Jalene was found dead in the clock tower.

She’d been stabbed repeatedly in the lower abdomen. Her blood was frozen to the ground, and the police had to chip her off of the ground in order to bring her in for an autopsy.

It was a nasty mess.

The investigation led police right to the note, with Jalene’s fingerprints on it. They found it in the boys’ bedroom.

Police they weren’t able to find the murder weapon. They did, however, find traces of blood on Jacob’s sleeves, and his hands. Jacob argued that his mother already had blood on her when she visited the previous day—which was true.

But it wasn’t enough for the police.

Unfortunately, all of the evidence pointed towards the White brothers—so they were convicted and sent to juvenile hall.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
TRUE INTENTIONS

There were still a couple of minutes before class started, as the song on the radio was just coming to an end.

Kane watched as his fellow classmates walked into the warm building from the cold winter night. He watched as Brittany, with a frustrated look in her eyes, walked up to the door. She aggressively shoved it open and entered.

“I guess the limey wasn’t so good in the sack,” Kane muttered to himself as he watched the young dark-skinned girl disappear down the school hallway.

“You’re listening to KISM, 102.5—Snowbrooke’s only Classic Rock Radio,” the night time radio host said. “I’ve got a great show lined up for you tonight, with Rush, April Wine, Led Zeppelin and many, many more classics. We’ll be playing nonstop blocks of classic rock all night, but first—some headlines...

“Police aren’t releasing details of yet another homicide that happened in Snowbrooke’s West End last night. Police aren’t even commenting on whether or not it was another ‘vampire’-like murder. In a press conference earlier today, Constable James Rice said…”

The host played a clip from the press conference. “We’re trying our best to get to the bottom of this most recent murder, as well as the others. We have leads, which we are following up on. No—I’m not going to comment on whether we think that this murder was related to the others. At this time, we aren’t releasing the name of the victim. But I want to urge everyone to please stay inside at night—and stay close with your friends and families. If anyone has noticed any suspicious activity, please let us know. You can do so in person, or over the phone anonymously.”

The radio host returned. “This most recent murder brings the death toll in the past month up to eleven, and it comes just a single day after the last. Stay inside people! Whatever your reason for going out at night—It’s not worth your life.

“We’re expecting another fifteen centimetres of snow overnight, with temperatures reaching below negative forty.”

Kane looked down at the clock—it was a single minute before class. He looked back up.

Hanna was walking up to the school. As she approached, she wiped the last of the blood off of her face. Kane watched her closely as she looked around and then entered the school.

There was something about Hanna… Something suspicious.

Kane turned off his car and made his way to class.

Wade Fenner stared down at his attendance list, and then he looked back up at the class. Kane walked in right on time, once again—late, as far as Wade was concerned.

Wade let out one of his characteristic deep groans. “I shouldn’t have to remind everyone, on our second class together—I will not tolerate latecomers.”

“I’m right on time,” Kane said.

“If you aren’t five minutes early, you’re late.”

“Right—sorry, I forgot,” Kane said.

Connor ran into the room, panting for air, with a copy of Tale of Two Cities in his hand. “Sorry I’m late,” he said between breaths.

“It’s fine—Just sit down right there,” Wade said, pointing to a seat next to the door, on the other end of the room from Hanna.

Wade groaned as he walked over to the whiteboard. “We all read the first three chapters of Tale of Two Cities. Today, we’re going to talk about…” Wade walked up to the board and picked up a marker. He began to write, in large letters, the word—“Themes,” he said.

Everyone watched as Wade fumbled to put the lid back on the marker.

Brittany giggled at the struggle.

Wade snapped his head back up. “If you read the assigned chapters, then you know about one theme already—You,” Wade said, pointing to Andrew.

“Me?”

“What’s your name again?” Wade asked.

“Andrew.”

“What theme am I referring to?”

Andrew thought for a moment. “Um,” he said.

“Did you read the chapters?” Wade asked.

“Yeah. I read them.”

Wade rolled his eyes, assuming Andrew was lying to him. “The biggest thing you need to learn from this class is respect.”

Wade scanned the room, looking at the faces of his students.

“If you respect your teachers, your teachers will respect you. When your teachers respect you, there’s a relationship—learning becomes easier. Learning is a relationship. Learning is respect. Respect. Life is all about respect.”

Brittany scoffed.

“Is something funny?” Wade asked.

“No,” Brittany said.

“See? No respect,” Wade said, walking over to Brittany. He looked down at her. “Maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation if you showed your last teachers some respect.”

Brittany looked up at Wade, unimpressed and offended by his assumption.

“Maybe,” Brittany replied sarcastically.

“Had anyone actually read the book, they would be able tell me at least one major theme in the book.” Wade looked at Connor. “You.”

“Um,” Connor thought—having not actually read the assigned work.

“Well?” Wade asked. “Did anyone read the chapters?”

“Water,” Kane said.

Wade looked over at Kane and stared at him for a silent moment. “Did you look that up on your phone?” Wade asked.

“No.”

“Oh,” Wade said, not expecting the answer to come from Kane, of all people. “Yes, that’s right. Water.”

Wade began to pace back and forth. “The sea did what it liked, and what it liked was destruction,” Wade quoted. “Water, in Dickens’ book, is…”

Wade opened the whiteboard marker again and began to write, in very big letters, another word on the board. “Sym-bo-li-sm,” he said as he wrote on the board.

His letters became smaller and smaller as they reached the edge of the board. “Ism” curved down almost perpendicular to the rest of the word in order to fit on the board. He put the cap back on the marker and turned to Andrew.

“You,” Wade said, pointing to Andrew.

“Yeah?”

“What’s your name again?”

“Andrew.”

“Andrew—Give me an example of water as symbolism in A Tale of Two Cities.”

Andrew thought for a moment. “Water is destruction.” Andrew smirked.

Wade groaned. “A different one.”

Andrew thought for a moment.

“You didn’t read the chapters, did you?”

“Sorry… I skimmed them. I was really busy last night.”

“Well then I might just skim an f onto your final grade. I’m a pretty busy guy myself..”

Andrew’s smirk dissipated.

“I want everyone to open up their notebooks and write down the definition of a symbol, and why they are important in literature. Two pages, double spaced. You have one hour.”

Wade, partially defeated, sat down at his desk and groaned. He opened up a book of his own—The Cat’s Cradle, by Kurt Vonnegut, and began to read. “Spelling counts, and I’ll be checking your work. I want examples from the book in there,” he said, not looking up from his own book.

There were audible sighs within the classroom as notebooks were flipped open and pens began to scratch against paper.

Andrew looked over at Connor. “Is everything alright?” he whispered.

“Yeah, why?” Connor replied.

“You took off in a rush last night. You seemed stressed out.”

“Oh—Yeah, that was all good. I just forgot about something I was supposed to do.”

“Things got pretty wild after you left.”

“Really?” Connor asked.

“Yeah. It was probably a good thing that you left when you did.” Andrew laughed. He leaned in close to Connor. “You—um—you like that Hanna girl?” Andrew whispered very quietly.

Connor looked over at Andrew. “She seems nice—why?”

“I like you Connor, and I don’t like talking about people behind their backs…” Andrew started.

“But?”

“But I like you—I do. Just be careful with her, okay?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m hesitant to even say anything, because I don’t usually buy into gossip—but there used to be some pretty freaky rumours.”

“I’ve heard the rumours. It’s just kids with wild imaginations.”

“Well—when I heard about it, I thought it was just kids with wild imaginations too. But then it made the news—and there was a pretty big investigation.”

“Into what? What happened?”

Kane was sitting just close enough to hear Andrew and Connor’s quiet conversation. He pretended to write the assignment on his borrowed piece of paper while he listened carefully to the faint whispers from the gossiping men.

“Look into it yourself, and don’t make any assumptions—but they thought that she killed her dad. A lot of people still think she did it.”

“What?”

“It sounds insane—I know. You wouldn’t believe it, but they had some pretty convincing evidence. Just be careful, okay? Maybe look into it yourself.”

“But she wasn’t found guilty, right? So it turned out not to be her… Right?”

“The case went cold. They never had enough evidence, but she was the only suspect.”

Kane looked across the room at Hanna, who was writing silently in her notebook, with dried blood still on the edge of her lip.

After class, Kane returned to his old rusty ’69 Mustang. He threw his schoolbook into the backseat, and then he popped the trunk of the car. He looked back at the door to the school, and watched as his classmates trickled out.

He looked around, making sure that no one was watching, and then he opened up the trunk of his old muscle car.

Inside of the trunk was a large stash of weapons—Unusual weapons: Steaks and mallets, crossbows and handguns, crosses and holy water.

Kane was armed to the teeth to hunt vampires.

He looked back up just as Hanna walked out of the school.

Kane had a hunch that Hanna was a vampire. Kane had a hunch that Hanna was who he came to Snowbrooke looking for.

Kane reached for one of his smaller, more discreet weapons—a small crossbow. Carefully, he tucked it under his pea coat, and then held his jacket tight to his body. He closed the trunk of his car, and began to follow Hanna from a safe distance.