Bonechiller (27 page)

My gaze goes right to where the tunnel entrance should be. But all I see is the unbroken face of the rock wall. Maybe a good thing. At least, it’s not already out, waiting for me.

I do a U-turn on the snowmobile, aiming its headlight toward the gap and the lake. Then I pry my hands from their death grip on the bars. They’re so stiff my knuckles pop as I shake them out. Getting off the seat, I leave the motor idling, its low grumble comforting. I’m not going to be one of those horror-movie retards who can’t get the engine started.

My breath catches as I see a flicker of movement across the clearing. I strain to make it out in the murky shadows. Then I recognize Ash and Pike stepping through the cleft, and I can exhale.

I wave. They wave back. Taking a few steps away from the snowmobile, I scan the wall for the tunnel mouth.

I pull my cell phone out and dial Pike. Across the clearing I hear the faint echo of his ring tone.

He picks up. “Any sign?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s probably waiting for the temperature to drop.”

Pike’s right. Howie showing up means the beast is ready for its next victim.

“Any ideas?” I ask.

Before he can answer, I hear rocks tumbling. Staggering back, I search the wall for any shift in the darkness. It still seems solid.

A shower of gravel rains down from above, followed by the sound of a dog whining. I look up and see the pale phantom of Mason waving down at me. I wave back.

“That’s just Mangy,” I tell Pike. “He’s in position.”

“Okay. Hope he doesn’t land on me when he comes crashing down. Danny, how about you get a little closer to the wall. Give it a sniff of you. Let it know you’re here.”

“You think this thing can smell through rock?”

“Howie says it can sense you guys somehow. Smell, psychic vibrations, whatever. You get close enough, it’ll feel it. Give it a shot.”

Great idea! I’ll just stick my head in the lion’s mouth, see if it bites.

“Me and Ash are going to wait behind the boulder, okay?”

“Right. Thanks for the backup.”

What am I doing? Did this ever sound like a good idea? Or am I just so punch-drunk from lack of sleep I never thought about it till now?

Too late to turn back. Give it a sniff? I guess the reek coming off me just might penetrate solid rock.

My brain and body are telling me to run, but I move toward the foot of the bluff.

I don’t get three steps before I hear more rocks tumbling. Shooting a glare up in Mason’s direction, I catch movement straight ahead of me. A chunk of the wall is shifting.

I stumble in reverse, not taking my eyes off the widening shadow. My phone clatters to the ground. I nearly fall on my butt when my heel trips on one of the snowmobile skids.

I turn to get on. Get the hell out. But my knees lock up, so sudden I almost topple over. It’s like they’re stuck in invisible concrete.

I feel a shiver inside my skull. Icicle fingers reaching in, freezing me in place.

I swing my head around to see the beast emerge from the tunnel. Stretching to its full height, it towers against the rock face. It fixes me with the glimmer of those silver eyes.

Panic pounds through me. I bend back and bang my fist against the back of my right knee. It’s so stiff I have to punch twice more before it gives.

I lunge across the seat of the snowmobile, flailing for the handlebars. Grabbing on, I pull myself forward on the seat and squeeze the accelerator.

With a jolt that almost throws me, the Yamaha roars to life and lurches ahead. I gun the motor, aiming for the gap onto the lake and forgetting about the slant to the ice. I fly down the hill, going airborne for a second before hitting the ice. My chest slams forward against the bars, but my right hand keeps squeezing the accelerator. Swerving left, I zoom across the lake beneath the looming bluffs.

The noise and shudder of the Yamaha rattle my brain, blocking any thoughts that aren’t my own.

The bluffs drop away to low hills at my side. I risk a glance bàck.

I can’t believe it! Fifty feet away, coming on impossibly fast, the beast is in a full galloping sprint, sure-footed on the slick surface. Gusts of steam blow from its nostril slits.

I make myself face forward and bend low to lessen the wind drag. The skeleton of the ice factory flashes by. I pick out the marina lights. My finish line. Way,
way
too far away.

The snowmobile is going full throttle and I’m keeping a straight aim. But that thing is just too freaking fast. I take a quick peek back.

It’s gaining!

My fist is cramping up on the accelerator, like I can squeeze more speed out of it by brute force.

But the marina might as well be on Mars for any chance I have of reaching it before the beast takes me down.

My rifle is strapped to the seat. I can feel it bumping my calf. But it’s useless against that thing.

I can’t keep myself from looking back.

Closer! A charging white blur. Not tiring. Could probably run all night.

Out of nowhere, I see something sticking up from the ice directly ahead. The headlight flashes off an orange buoy, frozen in the ice.

Only a fraction of a second to avoid a head-on collision. I pull to the right. Just as I’m about to fly past the buoy, I see where the ice has buckled around its base.

Too late!

The front ends of the skids catch on the bumps and twist the Yamaha around. It’s like a giant hand reaching out to spin me.

I fight to keep my grip on the throttle as the darkness whirls around.

Can’t stop! I stop, I die!

With the rear end still fishtailing wildly, I gain some traction and buck forward. Suddenly, a white bulk appears dead ahead, racing toward me out of the dark. I swerve to
avoid it and flash past the beast. It strikes out at me, claws whipping by my head, inches from taking off my ear.

I pick up speed, flying over the ice. I search desperately for the marina lights.

They’re gone. Snuffed out. My heart seizes up. Where’d they go? I’m driving blind.

It takes a moment to find the shore, a gray blur.

But it’s on my right now. I’m going the wrong way, back where I just came from. Gotta turn!

Glancing over my shoulder I see the beast on my tail, ready to jump.

Coming up on my right are the bare bones of the ice factory.

On the open ice, I’m dead.

I cut hard to the right and climb the shoreline with a teeth-cracking bounce. The steep incline threatens to flip me, but I make the top, hanging on for my life.

The factory towers up.

No time to think.

Plunging into the ruins, I dodge between pillars where the walls used to be. The ground is covered in ankle-deep snow. Good for the snowmobile skids but bad for what might be hidden beneath, waiting to wipe me out.

I have to slow to squeeze through openings, avoiding fallen timber, ducking under beams. I twist and turn in this rotting maze. Parts of the path I take are too tight for the beast. Buying me time.

But I can’t just hunker down and hide in here. It’ll get to me. So I keep on, nearly getting decapitated by a low beam.

A crash behind me, the sharp crack of wood breaking.

My headlight jitters down what must have once been a long hallway, now stripped to its framework.

I hear a splintering sound.

I glance back through the bare ribs of the hall. The beast sweeps its arms to chop through two-by-fours like they’re toothpicks, making its own path through.

I see an opening on my left and swerve, shooting out into the open again. I grip the accelerator tight and whip past Pike’s car, almost clipping the open back door.

I race into the hills, back to the clearing. My only chance is to get to Ash. She’s got the firepower, maybe enough to scare it off. Make a stand.

I climb the first hill, close to flipping. Just as I reach the top and start down, a noise rips through the night. The blast of Mason’s air horn, sounding from the peak of the bluff. It goes on and on. He’s spotted me—spotted
it
on my tail.

I skirt the edge of the next rise but then have to climb up to the cleft in the bluffs that leads to the clearing. I can’t slow down, can’t look back.

I push the snowmobile up … up!

Taking the peak of the hill at full throttle, the snowmobile launches into the air, flying through the cleft and out the other side. One skid clips a rock and the Yamaha throws me.

I tumble through the air. And hit hard. Feels like my chest has caved in.

I’m rolling down an incline, skidding to a halt at the
bottom. My face rests on the ground with snow in my mouth, in my eyes. I spit out slush and suck in a breath of air.

I try to look around, deafened by the endless blare of the horn echoing off the bluffs. Then I make out something else.

“Danny!” Shouted from close by.

I push myself to my knees, searching.

“Danny! Over here.” Ash.

She’s moving toward me, shotgun in one hand, the other clamped around Howie’s wrist. He’s struggling with her, weakly. I concentrate on getting to my feet. I make it halfway up, then Ash is there to lean on.

She shouts something I can’t understand over the scream of the horn. Then the noise cuts off and I make out what she’s saying.

“Where is it?”

I turn to look back.

Stepping through the cleft into the clearing, the beast locks on to us.

A riot of barking erupts from the huskies on the bluff. The beast doesn’t even glance up. Slowly it makes its way down to the floor of the hollow, nostrils flaring. Tasting our fear.

Howie’s straining in Ash’s grip, trying to break free and go to the beast.

“Hold him!” Ash pushes him at me.

I grab on to Howie.

Ash lifts her shotgun, pumping a shell into the chamber. But before she can shoot, a blast of gunfire splits the air. The
beast flinches at the impact, swinging its head around to find the source.

I spot Pike just outside the tunnel, his shotgun on the beast.

Ash gets off a shot, peppering its thick torso with buckshot.

The pellets bounce off like hailstones. All that did was piss it off more.

In a freeze-frame moment, we realize we’re screwed.

Then Pike yells: “Move! Here! Down the tunnel!”

Down the tunnel? That’s crazy! But we’re cornered.

“Go!” Ash pushes me and Howie forward. “Go!”

Pike fires off another round to cover us.

Flanked by Ash, I drag Howie across to the opening in the rock face. The entrance gapes like the mouth of a tomb.

Ash leads us into the inky black. I rush to join her, with Howie in tow.

“Stay on the left side!” Pike runs to meet us. “Left side! Left side!”

A white light flares to life ahead. Ash with her flashlight, showing the way.

“I’ll take him.” Pike reaches out.

I hand Howie over and start down the tunnel.

“Stay left!” Pike barks. “The mines are set just before the cave.”

Down and down and down, we stumble through the dark. Ash’s light jumps around in crazy arcs.

I keep moving in a dazed panic, wondering if we’ve taken
a wrong turn, plunging lost into the guts of the earth. My legs go on automatic, carrying me deeper. I focus on the swinging light. Don’t lose her. Don’t want to be alone down here.

Ash skids to a stop. I pull up, my shoes skating on the slick surface.

“Hold on,” she says, breathless.

“What?” I pant.

“We’re here.”

I see the blue glow and the curve in the tunnel.

She gives me a hard stare. “Slower now. Eyes on the floor!”

I nod. The shivers running through me aren’t from what lies ahead, or from the cold. The freeze can’t touch me anymore. What I’m feeling goes deeper. Under my skin, inside my head. Ghost whispers.

I know Howie’s hearing it sharp and clear.

Pike emerges from the gloom, half carrying Howie.

Ash disappears past the bend in the rock and I follow.

She hugs the left wall, her back brushing along the rock, moving as if she’s on the edge of a cliff looking at a thousand-foot drop.

But what she’s staring at are two black shadows, positioned at center and right on the tunnel floor.

The
twins
. Duct-taped, wire-tangled bundles of death.

The floor is black ice and smooth rock. I focus on Ash’s path, walking an invisible tightrope.

It takes only seconds. But seconds stretch down here in the dark. Making me sweat.

Finally, she’s clear.

“Go, man.” Pike hurries me. “Go!”

My left foot skids on a slick patch. Keeping my spine pressed to the wall, I shift my right foot over to join it.

A salty tear of sweat blurs my vision. I blink it away, and it runs down the side of my nose to hang on the tip of my nostril.

My heart skips a beat. Below me sits enough TNT to vaporize me. How much pressure to set it off?

I sniffle at the sweat, trying to suck it in. As my nose twitches, the drop falls.

Slow motion rules my world. I can see exactly where it’s going to land.

Right dead center.

I watch the drop trickle over the metal surface of the trigger. And … nothing.

Keep moving. I shift my feet along.

My stare is locked on my shoes when Ash takes my arm and pulls me to safety.

I look back at Pike leading Howie past the mines. He’s safe in the cave before I can blink.

“Take the right side,” Pike tells us. “I’ll take left. Stay low!”

Ash pulls me with her.

Pike takes up position by the mound of bones hidden in the fog.

He drops Howie beside him and grabs a handful of shotgun cartridges from his pocket. Ash is doing the same, the brats going into combat mode. Me and Ash are farther from the entrance. Over her shoulder, I see the beast’s discarded
shell. I keep my eyes on it for a second to make sure that’s all it is. But it sits motionless, like a gargoyle, staring at us with those empty sockets.

When I look over at Pike, I gasp.

Howie’s broken away from his side and is stumbling toward the entrance. “Howie!” Pike drops the shotgun and launches himself in pursuit. But Howie’s closing in on the mouth of the tunnel. Pike’s shout echoes off the walls.