Bitter Cold by J. Joseph Wright

Author:J. Joseph Wright
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-10-26T07:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

APRIL HAD ONE thing in mind—coffee. Lots of it.

She tiptoed to the kitchen, though each step sounded like Geppetto’s workshop. Old floorboards creaking and cracking. Despite the noise from the ancient house, she managed to make it downstairs without rousing either Jeff or Logan. Next mission: get a mug and fill it with hot liquid, preferably caffeinated.

Opening the cupboard, she paused at the sight of the snow falling outside, and the picture perfect scene beyond the back porch. Trees. Tons of them. Evergreens, mostly. Some leafless, anonymous varieties, too. A new corrugated metal barn sat next to an old, sagging wooden one, both behind a thin-wired fence supported by dozens of T-poles. And covering it all was a dense, white curtain. Feet of snow smoothed out the contours, making everything seem so soft, so harmless. It looked as if someone could drop from the sky and it wouldn’t hurt, like landing on a cloud. Beyond a wooden fence sat a well-kept field. It looked like there should have been horses. It just seemed like a place that should’ve had them.

She closed her eyes and remembered her great-grandfather’s farm in Beaver Creek. When it would snow, Grandpa would hitch a wagon to his old mare and she’d haul them through the pastures, whinnying and complaining the whole time. April had a million memories like that when she saw snow. They came flooding back the instant the first flakes came down, leaving her so blissful and carefree.

That all changed at the bottom of Dead Man’s Dump.

Whatever kind of mutated, abhorrent thing had crept from the bowels of the earth, she had no idea how to stop it. But she could tell the world about it. NWP knew. Though they may not have originally created it, they knew, and they were afraid of April. It was a set-up from the very beginning. Maybe they weren’t going to kill her at first. Maybe they were just feeling her out. Then the kid on the motorcycle got his foot eaten off, and that made them panic.

The kid. Dexter. He saw the creature. He had to. It ate his foot. But if NWP was evil enough to want her dead, what were they willing to do to that boy? Murder, she was discovering in the world of corporate corruption, led to more murder.

She found a cordless phone and dialed 411.

“Hello, can you tell me the number to the hospital in Longview, Washington? There are two? Give me both.”

She dialed the first number and the line rang several times. She thought no one would pick up. Finally, a hurried female answered.

“St. John’s Hospital. How can I direct your call?”

“Yeah, my name’s April Murray. I work for The Oregon Daily, and I’m writing a story about a child who lost his foot yesterday in a motorcycle accident. Do you know anything about that?”

The operator gasped. “Yes. Oh, my God, yes. I saw them bring the poor kid in.”

“So he’s there. Is he taking visitors, or is it still too early for that yet?”

A pause.

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