attempting to reattach the connections that had been torn from the radio. His fingers were stiff with the cold, and he kept dropping the tool to the floor, where it slid under his seat. This time it had slid all the way back into the hold.
"What's that smell back there?" he asked as he returned to his seat. "The skins?"
"Nope," Jake said, chewing loudly. "That's Frosty."
"He's a scary motherfucker," Donny said. "Big as a grizzly."
"He's big and he's smart. Chief said he's got a high I.Q. Probably why he's so fucked up in the head."
Donny looked up from the wires he was twisting, stared out into the snow. "When you look in those eyes, it's like... it's like there ain’t nobody home."
"The poor son of a bitch can't close 'em. Lost his eyelids to frostbite."
" My God ," Donny said, dropping his pliers. "How'd it happen?"
"He led a hunting party up in the country. They got caught in an avalanche on Black Mountain. He was buried under snow for 17 days until he finally managed to claw his way out."
" Jesus," Donny said, fishing under his seat. "Didn't he starve to death?"
Jake glanced at his partner. "You don't want to know."
"What?"
Jake finished chewing before he answered. "When they found the other bodies, they... Let's just say there were a few parts missin’."
Donny stared at Jake in disbelief. Jake offered him the last bite of the candy bar. Donny curled his lip, slowly shook his head. Jake popped it into his mouth and continued.
"Even after they thawed him out, Frosty wouldn't talk. He was suffering from frostbite and hypothermia. He'd just stare."
Donny looked intrigued. "Maybe his brain froze."
Jake tossed the candy wrapper and glanced at his copilot. "At the hospital, when they tried strappin’ him into his bed, he went berserk. Killed the doctor and a couple nurses." Jake glanced over his shoulder toward the cargo bin, then spoke to Donny in a quieter voice. "They say it was savage what he did to those people. They locked his ass away in a Hospital for the Criminally Insane."
"No shit... Who the hell let him out?"
"Nobody — he escaped. That was two years ago. For a long while, nobody heard nothin'. Then they started gettin' strange reports."
"From who?"
"Inuits, mostly, and a few whites. Up in the country, in the mountains. Bodies kept showing up dead. Mangled. Pieces missing. Heads cut clean off. According to Adashek, the Inuits claim he killed thirteen people. At least... him or the wolves."
"Wolves?"
Jake shrugged. "They claim along with his tracks there were wolf tracks around the bodies."
"You mean... What're you saying?"
"I ain't sayin' nothin'. You know those goddamn Eskimos. They believe all kinds o' shit."
Donny looked at him, stunned. "Yeah... but they sure as hell know how to read tracks." He turned and stared out the windshield at the battering snow, an expression of wonder on his face. "That flesh-eatin’ Snowman’s been huntin' with wolves!"
10.
Kris Carlson sat on a folding metal chair in the carpeted confines of the ski-fitting room. She was listening to the snapping and buckling of equipment, the mumbling voices of the students, and the shouts and shrieks from the training hall next door. She picked her way through the various sounds, listening for the soft, melodic male voice she remembered so well.
She did not hear it. Instead, she heard the booming, screeching, distinctly African-American voice of Lorraine Turner, ski instructor from hell.
"Is Kris Carlson in here?!"
Kris pulled her head in like a frightened turtle. The boy sitting next to her nudged her arm. "Hey, you Kris? She's calling you."
Kris swallowed hard. "Where's my mother?" she asked.
"Where's yo' mamma? You ain't got no mamma. All you got here is Lorraine. That's me. I'm your instructor."
She was coming closer. "No..." said Kris. "I mean, I can't, not right now."
"Why, who you waitin' on? Justin Bieber?" Her voice seemed to be inches from Kris's face.
"I... need to use the bathroom
"What's that smell back there?" he asked as he returned to his seat. "The skins?"
"Nope," Jake said, chewing loudly. "That's Frosty."
"He's a scary motherfucker," Donny said. "Big as a grizzly."
"He's big and he's smart. Chief said he's got a high I.Q. Probably why he's so fucked up in the head."
Donny looked up from the wires he was twisting, stared out into the snow. "When you look in those eyes, it's like... it's like there ain’t nobody home."
"The poor son of a bitch can't close 'em. Lost his eyelids to frostbite."
" My God ," Donny said, dropping his pliers. "How'd it happen?"
"He led a hunting party up in the country. They got caught in an avalanche on Black Mountain. He was buried under snow for 17 days until he finally managed to claw his way out."
" Jesus," Donny said, fishing under his seat. "Didn't he starve to death?"
Jake glanced at his partner. "You don't want to know."
"What?"
Jake finished chewing before he answered. "When they found the other bodies, they... Let's just say there were a few parts missin’."
Donny stared at Jake in disbelief. Jake offered him the last bite of the candy bar. Donny curled his lip, slowly shook his head. Jake popped it into his mouth and continued.
"Even after they thawed him out, Frosty wouldn't talk. He was suffering from frostbite and hypothermia. He'd just stare."
Donny looked intrigued. "Maybe his brain froze."
Jake tossed the candy wrapper and glanced at his copilot. "At the hospital, when they tried strappin’ him into his bed, he went berserk. Killed the doctor and a couple nurses." Jake glanced over his shoulder toward the cargo bin, then spoke to Donny in a quieter voice. "They say it was savage what he did to those people. They locked his ass away in a Hospital for the Criminally Insane."
"No shit... Who the hell let him out?"
"Nobody — he escaped. That was two years ago. For a long while, nobody heard nothin'. Then they started gettin' strange reports."
"From who?"
"Inuits, mostly, and a few whites. Up in the country, in the mountains. Bodies kept showing up dead. Mangled. Pieces missing. Heads cut clean off. According to Adashek, the Inuits claim he killed thirteen people. At least... him or the wolves."
"Wolves?"
Jake shrugged. "They claim along with his tracks there were wolf tracks around the bodies."
"You mean... What're you saying?"
"I ain't sayin' nothin'. You know those goddamn Eskimos. They believe all kinds o' shit."
Donny looked at him, stunned. "Yeah... but they sure as hell know how to read tracks." He turned and stared out the windshield at the battering snow, an expression of wonder on his face. "That flesh-eatin’ Snowman’s been huntin' with wolves!"
10.
Kris Carlson sat on a folding metal chair in the carpeted confines of the ski-fitting room. She was listening to the snapping and buckling of equipment, the mumbling voices of the students, and the shouts and shrieks from the training hall next door. She picked her way through the various sounds, listening for the soft, melodic male voice she remembered so well.
She did not hear it. Instead, she heard the booming, screeching, distinctly African-American voice of Lorraine Turner, ski instructor from hell.
"Is Kris Carlson in here?!"
Kris pulled her head in like a frightened turtle. The boy sitting next to her nudged her arm. "Hey, you Kris? She's calling you."
Kris swallowed hard. "Where's my mother?" she asked.
"Where's yo' mamma? You ain't got no mamma. All you got here is Lorraine. That's me. I'm your instructor."
She was coming closer. "No..." said Kris. "I mean, I can't, not right now."
"Why, who you waitin' on? Justin Bieber?" Her voice seemed to be inches from Kris's face.
"I... need to use the bathroom
Similar Books
The Joy of Killing
Harry MacLean
Anybody's Daughter (Angela Evans Series No. 2)
Pamela Samuels Young
Bloodied Ivy
Robert Goldsborough
Crying in the Dark
Shane Dunphy
Dear Thing
Julie Cohen
The Story of Us
Deb Caletti
Offshore
Penelope Fitzgerald
College Weekend
R.L. Stine
The Greatship
Robert Reed
Destiny: The Girl in the Box #9
Robert J. Crane