Frostbitten: The Complete Series (57 page)

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE
BACKFIRE

“Stop right there!”

Tanner froze before he could pull himself into the attic space. He’d been caught. Peeking over his shoulder, he could see the gas clerk standing with a shot gun—raised and armed.

Tanner became a deer in the headlights—a child in the sights of a shotgun.

“Get down,” the clerk demanded.

Tanner was too afraid to move. He’d been in a lot of trouble before, but he’d never looked down the barrel of a shotgun before.

“I said get down!” the clerk said again.

Tanner remained still. He was overwhelmed and absolutely petrified. His brain and his body had both shut off.

The clerk stepped into the room, holding his shotgun still and confident. “I’m going to count to three,” the clerk said. “One…”

No matter how badly he wanted to, Tanner simply couldn’t move. His head was spinning and his gut was turning.

“Two…”

Slam!

Before the clerk could reach the end of his count, a heavy pipe pinged against the side of the his head. The force of the blow was so powerful, it rippled through his whole body, breaking his cheekbone and dislocated his jaw. The blow reverberated through his brain, and knocked him completely unconscious.

The clerk fell to the floor, dropping his shotgun.

Kane stood over the clerk’s body, hands trembling as they held a long rusted pipe. He watched as blood began to trickle out from the clerk’s ear.

“Kane?” Tanner said, still frozen in place.

“Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here,” Kane said.

“Is—is he dead?” Tanner said.

“Get down from there and let’s
go
,” Kane said again.

Tanner stepped down from the filing cabinet and walked over to the clerk’s body. He held the security tape tightly in his hand.

“Come on,” Kane said again, getting louder as he grew increasingly impatient with the nervous young boy.

“He’s alive,” Tanner said. “He’s breathing.”

“I know, Tanner. Let’s go before he wakes up!”

“I don’t want to go back to juvy, Kane,” Tanner said.

“Then let’s get the fuck out of here!”

“They’ll know it was us.”

“You’ve got the tape. They don’t have any evidence.”

“Kane…” Tanner said, looking back down at the body. “He’s not dead.”

Kane opened his mouth to yell at the child again, when he realized what Tanner was saying.

“He—He’s not dead,” Tanner said again. “He didn’t see you, but he saw me. He stared me right in the eye.”

“Y—You aren’t suggesting…”

“I don’t want to go back to juvy, Kane. I don’t want to be put in that Chair.”

“You won’t get The Chair…”

“Bullshit! You know I will. He didn’t see you. The police aren’t even looking for you. Besides, if they find you, grand theft auto won’t even get you two months. You’re fine.”

“Petty theft won’t get you more than one month. Let’s just go.”

“They think I killed my mom, Kane! You saw the news—they think I killed Kyle, too,” Tanner said, looking back down at the motionless body of the gas clerk on the floor.

“But you didn’t kill your mom. You didn’t kill Kyle… You know that.”

“They don’t care what I know. They just care about what they want to care about! I’m fucked, Kane.”

“You’re not a murderer. Don’t become a murderer just to cover your tracks. We’ll get away—they won’t find us.”

“They might not find us—but they might. And if they do, it isn’t you they’ll care about, and you know it.”

Kane stared into the young boy’s eyes—the eyes of a boy who had been dragged through the mud over and over again. Even good men can be pushed too far. Tanner looked down at the shotgun on the floor. He leaned down and picked it up.

“Tanner…” Kane muttered.

“Go wait in the car.”

“Don’t do this. Please.”

“Go wait in the car.”

“Tanner…”

“Go wait in the car!” Tanner screamed, his eyes filling with tears.

Then, Kane made the most regrettable decision he’d ever made in his entire life: He left the young boy alone, with the shotgun and the gas clerk. It was the one moment that Tanner needed Kane the most—Kane let him down.

Kane covered his face as he walked out into the snowstorm. He got into the running car and he waited—and he waited, and he waited.

Each passing minute was an hour of agonizing torture. Every minute that passed was one more minute he could have intervened—but didn’t. Every minute was another lifelong regret.

A tormenting ten minutes passed.

Bang!

Tanner stepped out of the gas bar. He slowly walked towards the Mustang and stepped into the passenger seat. He had spattered blood on his face and hands. His eyes were completely dead. He didn’t mutter a single word as Kane pulled away from the scene of the crime. Tanner—a once innocent young man, was now a cold-blooded murderer.

CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND SIX
RIDING OUT THE STORM

With every passing minute, the roads became icier, more buried. Tanner and Kane were right outside of the mountain pass when the road became indistinguishable from the ditch, and the cliffside. The engine of the old Mustang was beginning to groan and overheat as it pushed its limits through the dense, unplowed snowy roads.

A dim orange light glowed through the opaque snowfall. Inching slowly down the highway, Kane watched the light draw closer and closer, until it was next to the car.

For the first time in nearly two hours, Tanner opened his mouth to speak: “Why are you stopping?” he asked as Kane brought the car to a stop.

Next to the Mustang was an opened gate and driveway, which pointed towards the orange glow.

“It’s a house,” Kane said. “They have power.”

“What? So?” Tanner replied.

“We can’t go any further. The car won’t make it—not in this weather.”

“Yes it will. Just try. Go.”

“It’s suicide.”

“It’s fine,” Tanner said.

“I’m not going any further. Not tonight.”

Without any more discussion, Kane cranked the wheel of the Mustang, turning into the snow buried driveway. The boys inched towards the glowing light. The light began to take the form of a beautiful country home. Warm orange lights glowed through the windows of the house—as well as a prominent porch light above the front door, which pointed towards the treacherous highway like a lighthouse on a stormy night.

Kane put the car into park.

“You aren’t serious, are you?” Tanner said.

“The car won’t go any further. We’ll freeze if we sleep in the car. So, unless you’ve got any better ideas…”

Tanner was silent—he had no better ideas, and Kane was in control—calling all of the shots.

“Clean yourself up,” Kane said, tossing Tanner an old rag. Tanner took the rag and started to wipe the speckles of blood from his hands and face.

The two boys stepped out of their car, braving the storm towards the modest country home. The cold wind burned their exposed flesh as they stopped at the doorstep, pressed the doorbell, and waited for the owner of the home to heed their call. A frigid blast of arctic wind nearly knocked both of the boys off of their feet.

The door opened.

“Hello?” Their saviour was a woman in her mid-forties. She was a pretty woman, with a kind face. She was dressed in pyjamas, but her hair and makeup were still neat.

“Hello miss,” Kane said, covering his ears with his painfully bare hands. “We’re having car problems. Is there any chance we can use your phone?”

“Come in! It’s too cold out,” the woman said, stepping aside for the boys.

Kane and Tanner entered the warm house: A beautiful family home, open-concept, with comfortable-looking furniture, tall natural-wooden beams, pictures of family, and a cozy wood-burning fireplace, surrounded by beautiful river rock. A child’s toys were scattered throughout the whole open space: Dolls, Legos, and pieces of an EZ-Bake Oven set.

“I’m sorry it’s such a mess in here,” the woman said.

“It’s not—not at all,” Kane said, smiling.

“I’m afraid the phone lines are down,” the woman said—Kane already knew. “I’ve been waiting for the lines to open myself.”

“Oh,” Kane said. “Our car is burnt out. I don’t think it could go another mile, not in this snow,” he said. “Do you know if there’s a motel or something nearby—maybe we could walk.”

“Don’t be silly. There’s nothing around for miles. Besides, you’d be crazy to walk in this weather. Worse than crazy, you’d be dead!”

Tanner looked around the house. He’d never seen anything like it; It looked so
happy
—a quality he’d never seen in a home.

“I don’t know when the lines will be back up, but you’re welcome to stay here until they are. Might be a few hours, might be all night. By the looks of it, I’d say you’re in for the whole night.”

“We wouldn’t want to impose,” Kane said.

“It’s nothing. As a matter of fact, you both look hungry. I have some leftover stew I was about to stick in the freezer—you’re both welcome to some.”

Kane looked at Tanner. “Really, Miss. We don’t want to impose on your family.”

“Oh—shush already,” the woman said. “Come have a bite to eat. You aren’t going anywhere until this storm is through.”

The woman asked no questions. She was kind, and welcoming. She sat Kane and Tanner down at a homey hand-carved wooden table and made sure they were both well fed. Kane ate modestly and politely. Tanner ate like a starving dog. With his head down, he ate three whole bowls of the delicious, warm stew. He would have eaten more, but he cleaned out the remainder of the pot.

“Oh my,” the woman said when she noticed Tanner’s third empty bowl. “If you’re still hungry, there’s some leftover pot-pie in the fridge I could heat it up.”

Tanner looked over at Kane. He still hadn’t spoken a word since the two walked into the house.

“He’s fine,” Kane said. “He just really loves a good stew. Thank you so much for the food.”

“Really—Don’t mention it,” the woman replied. “I don’t think I caught your names.”

“William,” Kane said with a smile.

The woman looked over at Tanner, and Tanner to Kane.

“Carl,” Tanner said.

“William and Carl,” the woman repeated, committing the names to her memory. “My name is Paige.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Paige.”

Paige smiled. “You both look so young—too young to be out driving, especially on a night like tonight.”

“We get that a lot.” He laughed. “People always tell me I’ll be happy when I’m older.”

“How old are you? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Eighteen,” Kane lied, adding three years onto his real age.

“Wow,” Paige said. “Oh my—Where are my manners? You must be freezing in those wet clothes. Let me get you some of my husband’s clothes. I’ll throw yours in the wash.”

“That’s really not necessary,” Kane said.

“No, please—I insist.” Paige turned around and walked up the stairs towards her bedroom to retrieve some clothes for the boys.

“Let’s get out of here,” Tanner said.

“Why?” Kane said.

“I don’t like this. She knows. She’s setting us up,”

“You’re being paranoid. She doesn’t know anything.”

“She’s being too nice. Something is up. No one is this nice.”

“She’s a nice lady. Some people are nice,” Kane said.

“Not this nice,” Tanner said.

Tanner’s pupils were as wide as a frightened feral cat’s. It was sad—Tanner’s unfortunate life led him to believe that no one should be trusted, that everyone had some sort of sinister agenda. The poor kid couldn’t believe that people could be nice; he didn’t believe that altruism was a real quality.

Paige walked back down the stairs with a stack of clothes. “They might be a bit big on you guys,” Paige said. “But at least you’ll be comfortable for the night.”

“Thank you,” Kane said, accepting the stack of clothes from the lovely woman. “Your husband—Is he home?” Kane asked.

“No. He should be home soon though. He might be stuck at work because of the snow. It happens from time to time. You know how it is out here.”

Kane smiled as he scanned the beautiful home again. “And your kids?” he asked.

“I have a daughter—a five-year-old. She’s upstairs sleeping.”

“We’ll be sure to stay extra quiet,” Kane said.

“Don’t worry about her. She’ll sleep through a hurricane.” Paige smiled as she walked towards the window. “I’ll toss your stuff into the wash. We have a guest room that’s all set up—if you don’t mind sharing a bed.”

“Oh—I don’t—”

“—Ah,” Paige interrupted as she looked back outside at the whiteout. “Again, I insist. This storm hasn’t let up even a little bit. Doesn’t look like it will until morning.”

Paige showed the boys to the guest room. “There’s a bathroom here, and another one down the hall. You’re welcome to use either—feel free to take a shower. There are plenty of clean towels.”

Paige’s unrelenting kindness was eating away at Tanner’s psyche. There were two possible scenarios in his mind: Either Paige was conspiring against him, or Paige was a legitimately kind mother, the kind of mother he never had.

The little guest room had a little en-suite bathroom, with a little sink and a little shower.

Tanner sat on the edge of the comfortable guest bed, staring at a blank wall as he relived the gas station crime over and over again.

“You should take a shower,” Kane said.

Tanner sat motionlessly, as if he hadn’t heard anything from Kane.

“It might be a while before we see another one.”

Tanner continued to stare at the wall in an uncomforting silence.

“Tanner?”

“I heard you,” Tanner barked.

Kane stared at the tormented child. “Well, if you aren’t going to take one, then I am. Okay?” Kane asked, growing impatient with his young accomplice.

Tanner didn’t respond, and Kane didn’t have the patience to wait for a response. Kane went into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, leaving Tanner alone in the silent guest room, with his disturbing memories eating away at his brain.

The image of the gas clerk was stuck in his mind: His eyes slowly opening as he finally returned to consciousness, the blood trickling out from his broken jaw. The final moment of his life: he stared up into Tanner’s eyes, and then down into the barrel of his own shotgun.

Bang!

It was the most horrid thing Tanner could possibly imagine. It was real; it really happened. Tanner took another man’s life away.
And for what?
To improve his odds of escaping capture?
Who was he to escape imprisonment?
Prison is where he belonged—he was a killer—a cold-blooded murderer.

The memory was too much to handle. He stood up and began to pace the room, desperately trying to exchange the images stuck in his mind for something else—anything else.

He stepped out into the hallway, eyes welling up with tears. He walked up and down the hallway, his heart-rate increasing rapidly as the reality of his crime became clearer and clearer. Tanner was a monster—any dream or aspiration he’d ever had in his life was now long gone. He would have no legacy. At best, he would be forgotten. If he was caught, he would be remembered as a vile creature—a cancer within the human race.

Tanner stopped and wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. If he did get away, if he made it to the border and got to the other side: Then what? What did that say about the world he lived in? Good innocent men are killed violently, their murderers live long lives—long lives in nice warm places.

If he was caught, there was some salvation for humanity—some hint that whatever God was in the sky was not a complete monster.

Tanner closed his eyes and took a breath. As he opened his eyes, he noticed something on the wall: A family photo. Paige, her husband and their young daughter stood together on the beach, holding hands, smiling.

Tanner would never have such a photo.

Tanner noticed something else; the most devastating thing he could have ever imagined: Paige’s husband was the gas clerk.

Tanner’s weak body stumbled as he nearly collapsed to the floor. Tanner wasn’t just a monster—he was much worse that that. What could be worse than a monster? Even The Devil himself didn’t seem like an appropriate title. Tanner had killed the husband of the kindest woman he’d ever met—the hard-working father of a young girl.

His throat filled with a lump the size of his fist, his stomach began to turn with dizzying nausea.

Next to the beach photo was a photo of the clerk as a younger man—rolling on the floor, playing with a big dog. A young, pregnant Paige was in the background of the photo, laughing joyously.

“Who are you?”

Tanner spun around, his tormented eyes bloodshot. A little girl—the very same little girl from the photo, stood feet away from Tanner, holding a big teddy bear in her arms.