"Snow, Cold, Darkness and Death"
Dec. 9th, 2024 12:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"Snow, Cold, Darkness and Death"
1/21-1/22/2013
I.
By midnight, three inches of wet heavy snow had fallen and more was coming down. On the deserted back roads of the north end of Long Island, a dark massive form stomped along doggedly. Even through the clouds, enough moonlight penetrated to see by. At a crossroads, headlights cautiously approached from behind. The dark figure stopped as a big white SUV slowed to a halt. A power window slid down and a man' voice called out, "Hey buddy, get in! I'm going your way."
A second later, the huge form reached the SUV and unexpectedly yanked the door open. A huge gnarled hand clamped down on the driver's arm and hauled him violently out. Getting a glimpse of a horribly twisted white face from the back glow of the headlights, the helpful man barely took in breath to scream before his neck was broken and his body thrown effortlessly ten feet off the road into the bushes.
The giant bulk squeezed in behind the wheel, pulled the door shut and started the vehicle forward at reckless speed. Through the still open window, a surprisingly mellow and polished voice said, "Thank you ever so much, my good man."
II.
At eight-thirty AM, Haley Lawson stepped out the front door of her house while her mother was enjoying a second cup of coffee. The seventeen year old was prudently wearing boots, heavy sweat pants, her bright blue down-filled coat and black gloves. It wasn't that cold out, just under freezing, but she had pulled her auburn hair up under a wool ski cap.
It looked like the roads had been plowed well enough. She faced the patio and fifteen feet of driveway. Haley's green eyes were bright enough with the pupils contracted from the glare off the snow, but the glee in them added to the effect. The snow shovel remained untouched in the garage where her mom's car was safely parked.
This was going to take some concentration. Under her coat and sweater, the ancient Air Gem was fastened securely to a choker around her neck. Haley visualized what she wanted to summon, nothing too dramatic or violent. Part of her mind reached out through the Melgar talisman and summoned warm arid air from New Mexico. The snow began visibly melting, sinking down and running off, leaving a patch of the driveway exposed. The Windcatcher kept at it, bringing more warm air to expose the entire driveway and patio. She satisfied herself that the asphalt was dry and there wouldn't be any ice forming from moisture refreezing.
Placing her hands on her narrow hips, Haley beamed with self-approval. The whole process had still taken maybe ten minutes but was easier than shoveling. She went back inside the snug cozy kitchen, plopped down ungracefully on a chair and began unlacing her boots. "All done," she announced.
Lisa Lawson did not much resemble her daughter. She was shorter than Haley's five feet seven and had black hair and darker green eyes. They had the same sassy grin though. Putting down her cup, she said, "And it was a lot easier than it was getting you OR your sister to do it the old-fashioned way."
"Maybe I should go around the neighborhood, clearing off everybody's walks and stuff," Haley said. She started gathering ingredients for some Shredded Wheat, including a plastic bowl big enough for a chef salad. Almond milk, sugar, one of those bananas on the windowsill...
"Honestly, I don't think that's such a great idea," her mother said. "This isn't an emergency. Only four inches on a Sunday morning and people can handle it without the Windcatcher. I think the danger is that if you start doing feats like that, everyone will quickly come to expect it from you. And then you'll be caught in an obligation."
"Hmm. Yeah, you got a point." Haley brought her cereal over to the table and began to shovel it down. Slender and coltish, she had the teenager's gift of being able to eat constantly without putting on weight. After a few mouthfuls, she went on, "When you had the Air Gem, did people bug you to help them out alla time?"
"No, because we didn't start. We used our Gems sparingly. I've told you what happened when I tried to break up a thunderstorm and just made two separate storms that were worse. That's a great power you're fooling with, young lady. You can't catch mice with a hand grenade."
"Got it. Lesson taken to heart. I still think it's totally weird how casual everyone is about my flying over the town and everything. They're so, well, blasé. It's crazy."
Lisa folded up the local paper and handed it over to her younger daughter. "It was the same with us. Midnight War scholars think that's a side effect of the Gems. Their gralic effect sort of dampens everyone's curiosity. What did you say you were doing today again?"
"Oh, Gina's been texting me non-stop about a big Mysterious Mystery. A man's body was found out on Van Broek Road and his car was found miles away. She's all excited. I think she's been watching too many Unsolved Crime shows and sees us as genius detectives."
Lisa got up with her coffee cup and saucer and, seeing that her daughter had finished the cereal, took the bowl with her to the sink as well. "I know, I know, telling you to be careful is like telling a stone wall...."
"Mommmm," complained Haley. "I can summon tornadoes and fly. What could happen to me?"
III.
"Dad says I have to get back home by five," Gina said at a red light. "He wants to go to Home Depot and pretend he knows plumbing repair." The same age as Haley, Gina Giacomo did have her day license and was allowed to use the family's Accord within reason. In popular student consensus, she was one of the prettiest girls in their high school. Italian on both sides, small and curvy, she had a wild mane of thick black curly hair she took great pains to maintain. At the wheel, with the car's heat on, she had unbuttoned her long black cloth coat and taken off her thin leather gloves.
Seated beside her, Haley Lawson examined her own cuticles critically. She did not spend half as much time on caring for skin, hair and nails. Sometimes, when sitting next to Gina, she felt rough and unfinished. "It's too much hassle to fly in this weather. I can't wear my cloak, and that makes balance tougher to maintain. And I'd have to surround myself with warmer air at the same time. It's a lot to do all at once."
"On the other hand, if you DID fall, you might land in a snow bank," Gina laughed, showing impeccable teeth of amazing whiteness. "Butt up in the air, probably."
"Probably," Haley agreed. "How do you know about the guy whose body was found, anyway?"
"It's all social media. I have got more friends online than a pop star. I know ALL the gossip."
The Windcatcher went on, "So, someone told you that the cops found a corpse by the side of Van Broek Road this morning, then?"
"Yeah. We're coming up on it now. You know Bradly Coogan, right, his older brother is a cop and he told Bradly they found a dead man ten feet off the road. Neck broken. The man's been identified, his wallet was on him, his car was found eight miles up Scheffel Lane, abandoned."
Haley made a noise that indicated she was interested.
"Oh, and you know what? This is cool. They know he died before one in the morning. You wanna know how they know that? Huh?"
"Because of the amount of fallen snow on the body, I bet."
Gina took her eyes off the road a bit too long for prudence to grin at her friend. "That's right. Hey, you're sharp. You didn't have to think about it."
"I have been reading SO many books on criminal science and forensics and all that," Haley admitted. "Sometimes it gets me down. I have to watch cartoons for an hour to cheer up again."
"There's the spot!" Gina swung the yellow Accord over to the side of the road and the two girls hopped out. An area twenty feet across had been trampled thoroughly by dozen of footprints.
"Well, drat," Haley muttered. "Look at that mess. I guess my brilliant deductive reasoning processes aren't going to get a chance. It looks they held a dance here!" Despite her discouraged words, Windcatcher walked up and down the road, studying the scene and frowning.
"I hope we don't have a winter like last year," Gina said irrelevantly, hands jammed in her pockets. "Remember that ice storm?"
"Gina, do you remember if the cops said the man had been thrown off the road? Those exact words?"
"Well, that's what Bradly said, anyway. I can ask him. Why?"
Haley started moving back toward the car. "I was just thinking, your average guy couldn't throw another man twenty feet. If the police said the victim was dragged, that'd be more realistic. But thrown...?! Maybe this is Midnight War after all."
Pulling out onto the road again, Gina asked, "Where do you wanna go next?"
"I guess we should see where the car was abandoned. That's suspicious. If it didn't go into a ditch or run out of gas, I don't why the perp didn't just keep driving to the next town or whatever." Haley shook her head. "Everyone says this is like doing jigsaw puzzles, you move the pieces around until they all fit together."
IV.
Cane in one hand and Browning automatic in the other, Warren Breck came slowly down the stairs from his bedroom. His back hurt so much that he was in a mood where he hoped a burglar was there so he had an excuse to shoot someone. Not even sixty-five yet and the damned arthritis was crippling him. A small thin man even in his prime, Breck was dried into a fragile scarecrow bundled in a thick wool robe.
Sure enough, light poured out into the living room from the open kitchen door. Whoever had broken in was either bold or had no common sense. Breck made his way forward as quietly as he possibly could. The Browning's safety was off and there was a shell in the chamber ready to punch a hole in the fool. Breck peered into the kitchen and his heart missed a few beats.
Ripping apart a rotisserie chicken with his hands was a raggedly dressed man whose head scraped the ceiling and whose bulk was wide enough for a normal person to hide behind. He was incredibly deformed, one arm longer than the other, oversized white-skinned hands gnarled with taut sinews. The flat-topped head had lank dead black hair hanging down, one eye was larger and bulging, the nose was a mere peg above a mouth that curled up at the left end from a scar. There was still snow clinging to the tattered suit jacket that was a full size too small so that the thick forearms were bare.
What accident could have happened to make this poor soul look like this?
Then the intruder raised that misshapen head and spotted Breck. In the most ironic tone possible, he quietly said, "Boo."
"I know you. By God, I know you. Quilt! You're Quilt."
"I am generally regarded as a mere urban legend," said the monster in his polished way. "You are an enlightened host."
Stepping into the kitchen, lowering the pistol, Breck went on. "I was sixteen. Lancaster, Pennsylvania, that hotel fire that took one hundred lives. Someone had jammed the exit doors. My family lived nearby, we watched the horrible tragedy in our pajamas in the middle of the night. And I saw you! Away from the crowd, under a tree, laughing as people burned to death."
The creature ripped off a drumstick and began gnawing at it with broken, yellowed teeth. "Ah, you have a good memory, sir. Although I am admittedly easy to recognize."
"What ARE you? Why have you been killing people for God knows how long?"
"Please have a seat, sir. That gun won't even annoy me, you know." As the old man pulled out a chair and gingerly lowered himself into it, Quilt said, "I have been called the Patchwork Zombie, a garish term but accurate. By Darthan sorcery, body parts of seven executed murderers were fused together and given this semblance of life. That was more than a century ago."
Breck unconsciously placed his gun on the table, staring at the creature with appalled fascination. "You... you're a sort of Frankenstein Monster?"
That twisted face scowled. "Unfortunately, the comparison seems inevitable. I wish I could say I inspired the novel, but it does predate me. My Darthan sorcerer may have had Shelley's story in mind, he never got a chance to say. He left this life abruptly."
An uneasy silence held as the brute finished off the cold chicken. "I don't actually need to eat, you realize, but I enjoy it once in a while. As much for the flavors as anything else. How is it you're not babbling in terror and either shooting at me or running for your life?"
That made Beck laugh. "Look at me. I couldn't run from a turtle. And I know shooting you is useless. What else am I supposed to do?"
Quilt studied the man thoughtfully. The monster's mismatched eyes made his expression difficult to read. He examined the chicken for scraps a little more before continuing, "It's been years since I could have an actual conversation with anyone. Always all the begging and crying and shrieking...! Very tedious."
"I assume you're on the run?"
"Quite an understatement," Quilt chuckled. "Nothing official. There is no FBI reward for my capture. No police departments are circulating my photos. Public panic, you understand. But, using code words and roundabout descriptions, the authorities have been hunting me for decades."
"Stay here for a few days. Rest. If I drive you back to Manhattan and let you out at night, there will be no stolen cars that the police will be looking for."
"True. True. Bridges and tunnels are a nuisance to cross. I have to break into delivery trucks or eighteen wheelers to be undetected. I like your suggestion, sir. You don't play chess, by any means?"
"I'm rated 1800."
"A worthy challenge! Very well. Think of me as an house guest."
Breck's withered face bent in a smile suddenly as malicious as that of the monster. "And as long as you are staying here, perhaps you might even do me a favor. You enjoy killing, don't you?"
"I was made from seven murderers, after all!" roared the monster in sudden glee.
VI.
At midnight, Haley came down from her room. She turned on a low-watt lamp in the living room before heading to the door. This was the signal she and her mother had agreed on to show Windcatcher had gone out. As soon as she returned, Haley always switched the light off again.
Lisa Lawson was far from happy with this arrangement and thought about going back on the agreement frequently. Every time she woke up and saw the thin line of light under her bedroom door, she knew she would not be getting back to sleep again. But she admitted that she herself had been even younger than Haley when she had fought in the Midnight War with her family as the Heirs of Buliwyf. She told herself that if she did lay the law about no more night adventures, that Haley would sneak out anyway and there would be constant fighting between them. Her friend Jeremy Bane had accepted Haley as an applicant to join the Kenneth Dred Foundation in a few months. That was small comfort.
Outside in the chilly air, Haley pulled down the black ski mask that she usually wore up as a hat. She was well bundled up. Before leaving, she double-checked her fully charged phone was in her zipped-shut pocket. There was also a burner phone, a powerful Maglite and some first aid items. She relaxed her mind, reaching out mystically through the Air Gem and contacted a tornado in Western Australia. Winds in excess of two hundred miles per hour swept her up off the patio and over the rooftops of her neighborhood. She straightened her body like a diver, arms ahead of her, leveling off to soar parallel to the ground.
Stretching out below her in the moonlight, the snow-covered town was so peaceful and immaculate that it gave her a twinge. In June, she was supposed to move to Manhattan to join the KDF. What a change that was going to be. As excited as she was at the plan, a certain trepidation still made her uneasy. But then a lot of her classmates were moving off to different colleges, too.
Haley found her way to Scheffel Lane, where the stolen SUV had been found. According to Gina's gossip sources, the police were going on the assumption that the killer had abandoned the vehicle and kept walking. So they were concentrating their efforts on the area beyond, which including the residential Serenity Park. But Haley wasn't convinced. It had occurred to her that a devious criminal might have left the SUV and then headed back the way he had come from, precisely to send the cops off in the wrong direction.
The tornado winds were a little weak tonight and she felt wobbly. Best results were during late summer when the storms were found all over Texas and Kansas. Losing confidence in her flight, she let herself descend and made a very neat landing by the side of the road. She would walk for a while. Part of her subconscious would continue to search for a suitable tornado to latch onto.
Trudging along a dark country road with woods on either side, late at night in winter, Haley Lawson wondered not for the first time if she was a little crazy. She knew some kids were having a beer party at Webster's house. Or she could join Gina and Bentley for Netflix and junk food. Or she could even, God forbid, be snoring happily in her warm clean bed.
The houses out here were really nice, all new and well-kept with long stretches of undeveloped land between them. She imagined all those areas would fill up with new houses soon. As she walked, Windcatcher wished for some warm dry air and was immediately surrounded by a bubble of some. It felt like maybe 45 degrees and low humidity. Haley had a vague intuition that the air was coming from the Southwest, Arizona or possibly New Mexico. Exactly how the ancient gem responded to her thoughts and how it instantly siphoned masses of air thousands of miles was beyond her. Gralic sorcery of the highest order.
To her right was an interesting split-level house with a deck, all made of redwood. A bright blue light over the front door showed a car that was running with only its parking lights on. Haley glanced over casually, then froze motionless in mid-step. What the Hell...? A giant dark shape was straightening up beside the driver's side. The top of the car barely came up to his waist. Windcatcher realized she was holding as still as a deer caught in the headlights. Suddenly alarmed, she faded back behind some trees and peered warily out.
Low ominous laughter rumbled from the huge man in black. He swung around and shambled clumsily along the plowed driveway toward the road. His awkward gait seemed to derive from one leg being slightly shorter than the other, but he moved with quick determination. As the brute swung right in the road, Haley caught a glimpse of a deformed white-skinned face that was split by a maniacal leer. Then he stomped off into the night.
That was a monster, she thought. Not some serial killer or mob hitman or anything, but a real no-fooling Midnight War monster! Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel a tightness in her chest.
Haley saw he was out of sight and sprinted across the road and up to the idling car. As soon as she looked in the driver's window, she felt vomit in the back of her mouth and choked it back. It had been a woman. Long white hair. Nice fur-trimmed coat. The face was a flat red mush from which one eyeball and a tooth protruded.
Backing away, hands shaking, Haley tried to calm herself. She had seen dead bodies before in her brief career. But this one was so gruesome and so clearly in sight, not a huddled mass in the distance. It must have happened recently. It must have happened only a few minutes ago. That was what the big creature had been doing just as she had casually been strolled past.
Settle down, she yelled at herself. This is what you came out tonight to do. This is what Windcatcher is all about. Haley marched to the end of the driveway and fished around in a pocket for her disposable burner phone. This had struck her as a genius level idea at the time. She called 911 and reported what seemed to be a terrible accident at the address, it looked like a dead person. And then she hung up and pocketed the phone to dispose of it later.
Part of her subconscious fixed on a full-scale tornado somewhere. Finally. With a whoosh that sprayed snow in all directions, she shot up into the night air and tore along above the road. Fear was forgotten in the adrenalin rush.
VII.
At the kitchen table, Breck had laid out a steaming hot beef pot pie twelve inches across. He had melted strips of sharp cheddar cheese on the crust and cut off a wedge for himself. As he chewed slowly, the door opened and the massive bulk squeezed through. "That was refreshing," Quilt announced. He pulled out a chair that creaked under his weight and tore off half the pot pie for himself.
"She's dead, then?"
"She will never be more dead!" roared Quilt. "The mortician will have quite a chore making her presentable. I am known for making closed casket ceremonies necessary...." He began shoveling the hot food in his misshapen mouth.
There were four bottles of Budweiser beer on the table, and Breck pushed one over toward the brute. "I admit to feeling great relief knowing that Darlene is not longer walking this Earth."
"An ex-wife, I assume?" Instead of the deep guttural voice one might expect from such a beast, Quilt spoke with the gentle plummy tones of a BBC announcer. The contrast was surreal.
"No, no, Heaven forbid. She was shift supervisor at my job the last twelve years and she was the most abusive person I ever met. Every day, she went out of her way to hurt someone."
Quilt gulped down a chunk of pot pie that would have choked a normal Human, then considered his host for a moment. "Winter is my favorite time of year for murder. Snow, cold, darkness and death. All the ingredients I prefer for my calling."
"Any idea how many victims?"
"Oh, no. I lost count immediately. When you make a plane crash or a school bus go off a bridge, it's hard to keep track of the numbers. I must say, good sir, you seem uncommonly at ease not only at my presence but at all this unsavory talk."
Breck laughed. "I'm a bitter man, Quilt. My wife left me after I caught her cheating. When I retired, the union found an excuse to give me a reduced pension. Then there's the arthritis! Constant pain in back and legs. I'd actually enjoy seeing you rid the world of a few more local people who have annoyed me. The manager of the East Island Credit Union, for example. He turned me down for a car loan."
That hideous face studied Breck. With one eye both larger and misaligned with its mate, his stare could not be anything but uncomfortable. "Hmm. Perhaps. One more murder and then I should leave the area. As incompetent and sluggish as the police are, they do tend to turn up eventually. Tomorrow night, then. After that, drive me into Manhattan and I will have a good time there. So many places to hide..."
Breck was watching the last bit of the beef pot pie as if summoning up nerve to claim it.
"Wait!" Quilt swung his brutal head around sharply. "I heard something! Outside!" He heaved up to his full towering height and glared at his host. "If you've betrayed me, I swear you will be a long time dying, my friend."
With that, the Zombie yanked open the kitchen door and strode out into the darkness. He sniffed the air. There! By Breck's white Jeep Vanquish, it looked like a young person bundled up in winter clothing. A girl?!
"I smell gralic energy," Quilt growled. "Don't tell me you're a knight of Tel Shai."
"Who, me?" yelped Haley nervously. "I want to ask to use a phone. My phone died. My ride never showed up, and I'm freezing...."
"You're hopelessly bad as a liar," the monster scoffed, stalking closer. "Did you know screams carry further in cold air? I'll show you."
In the next second, Haley tried to summon tornado winds.. and failed. By the laws of chance, there had to be a moment now and then when there were no suitable storms on Earth. With a lunge, the Patchwork Zombie seized the front of her down-filled coat in one irresistible hand and lifted her up off the ground entirely.
Acting on reflex, Windcatcher latched onto the superheated air over an active volcano on one of the outermost Hawaiian islands. Suddenly the monster's head was enveloped in a bubble at fifteen hundred degrees Fahrenheit, his skin and hair burst into flame and he shrieked a wild unhuman howl.
Released, stumbling back and almost falling, Haley Lawson yelled, "Yeah, let's have YOU do the screaming!" She widened the aura of volcanic air around the beast so that his clothes were blazing as well. The entire yard was brilliantly lit. Haley kept backing up as she realized the monster had become a human torch but showed no signs of dying or even falling. The burning creature slapped at itself in a hopeless effort to put the fires out.
He might still get me, he might still get me, Haley thought as she backpedaled. The thing didn't seem to be coming after her directly, but the burning didn't seem to be destroying him either. Windcatcher was close to panic. She had thought her experiences in the Midnight War had made her tough and fearless but right then she felt like a little kid. She realized she wanted her mother there to take over the fight. Or their friend Jeremy Bane, HE'D beat the snot out of this creature.
A sharp crack of a gunshot sounded nearby, and this time she did lose her footing and sprawled in the snow next to the Jeep. In the open doorway of the house stood a man in a bathrobe, and he was holding an automatic with both hands. Wait. He was aiming it at her! Not at the monster. Abruptly furious rather than terrified, she flung hundred mile per hour Antarctic winds at him that reached forty below zero. Covered with frost, the man was thrown bodily back into the house.
Swinging toward the blazing creature, Haley let him have the same summoning. Even as the flames went out, ice crystals covered the seared and blackened monster and he finally fell backward with a dull thud. Haley realized she was hyperventilating and bent forward, hands on her knees, trying to take deep breaths. Before she got hold of herself, she heard a siren and saw flashing blue and red lights coming up the road. The cops! Great. Let them take over. She had been through enough. This time, she found sufficient winds to lift her quickly up and out of sight as two cruisers skidded up the snow-covered driveway. Two officers jumped out with their sidearms already drawn, showing no inclination to rush into the situation.
On the ground, the charred figure coated in ice still twitched and tried to raised a clawed hand.
As good as invisible at one hundred feet up, Haley Lawson swung around and soared back up Scheffel Lane at a good clip. She could feel her hands shaking. Maybe she wasn't ready for the real Midnight War yet. In the morning, she'd see if tomorrow's papers or local TV news mentioned any of this. Maybe she'd check with Gina if social media had any mention of all the mayhem. She certainly wasn't going to bring up her activities this night if she could help it. She would never be more satisfied to turn off the lamp in the living room of her home and sneak upstairs and get under the heavy covers.
12/9/2024
1/21-1/22/2013
I.
By midnight, three inches of wet heavy snow had fallen and more was coming down. On the deserted back roads of the north end of Long Island, a dark massive form stomped along doggedly. Even through the clouds, enough moonlight penetrated to see by. At a crossroads, headlights cautiously approached from behind. The dark figure stopped as a big white SUV slowed to a halt. A power window slid down and a man' voice called out, "Hey buddy, get in! I'm going your way."
A second later, the huge form reached the SUV and unexpectedly yanked the door open. A huge gnarled hand clamped down on the driver's arm and hauled him violently out. Getting a glimpse of a horribly twisted white face from the back glow of the headlights, the helpful man barely took in breath to scream before his neck was broken and his body thrown effortlessly ten feet off the road into the bushes.
The giant bulk squeezed in behind the wheel, pulled the door shut and started the vehicle forward at reckless speed. Through the still open window, a surprisingly mellow and polished voice said, "Thank you ever so much, my good man."
II.
At eight-thirty AM, Haley Lawson stepped out the front door of her house while her mother was enjoying a second cup of coffee. The seventeen year old was prudently wearing boots, heavy sweat pants, her bright blue down-filled coat and black gloves. It wasn't that cold out, just under freezing, but she had pulled her auburn hair up under a wool ski cap.
It looked like the roads had been plowed well enough. She faced the patio and fifteen feet of driveway. Haley's green eyes were bright enough with the pupils contracted from the glare off the snow, but the glee in them added to the effect. The snow shovel remained untouched in the garage where her mom's car was safely parked.
This was going to take some concentration. Under her coat and sweater, the ancient Air Gem was fastened securely to a choker around her neck. Haley visualized what she wanted to summon, nothing too dramatic or violent. Part of her mind reached out through the Melgar talisman and summoned warm arid air from New Mexico. The snow began visibly melting, sinking down and running off, leaving a patch of the driveway exposed. The Windcatcher kept at it, bringing more warm air to expose the entire driveway and patio. She satisfied herself that the asphalt was dry and there wouldn't be any ice forming from moisture refreezing.
Placing her hands on her narrow hips, Haley beamed with self-approval. The whole process had still taken maybe ten minutes but was easier than shoveling. She went back inside the snug cozy kitchen, plopped down ungracefully on a chair and began unlacing her boots. "All done," she announced.
Lisa Lawson did not much resemble her daughter. She was shorter than Haley's five feet seven and had black hair and darker green eyes. They had the same sassy grin though. Putting down her cup, she said, "And it was a lot easier than it was getting you OR your sister to do it the old-fashioned way."
"Maybe I should go around the neighborhood, clearing off everybody's walks and stuff," Haley said. She started gathering ingredients for some Shredded Wheat, including a plastic bowl big enough for a chef salad. Almond milk, sugar, one of those bananas on the windowsill...
"Honestly, I don't think that's such a great idea," her mother said. "This isn't an emergency. Only four inches on a Sunday morning and people can handle it without the Windcatcher. I think the danger is that if you start doing feats like that, everyone will quickly come to expect it from you. And then you'll be caught in an obligation."
"Hmm. Yeah, you got a point." Haley brought her cereal over to the table and began to shovel it down. Slender and coltish, she had the teenager's gift of being able to eat constantly without putting on weight. After a few mouthfuls, she went on, "When you had the Air Gem, did people bug you to help them out alla time?"
"No, because we didn't start. We used our Gems sparingly. I've told you what happened when I tried to break up a thunderstorm and just made two separate storms that were worse. That's a great power you're fooling with, young lady. You can't catch mice with a hand grenade."
"Got it. Lesson taken to heart. I still think it's totally weird how casual everyone is about my flying over the town and everything. They're so, well, blasé. It's crazy."
Lisa folded up the local paper and handed it over to her younger daughter. "It was the same with us. Midnight War scholars think that's a side effect of the Gems. Their gralic effect sort of dampens everyone's curiosity. What did you say you were doing today again?"
"Oh, Gina's been texting me non-stop about a big Mysterious Mystery. A man's body was found out on Van Broek Road and his car was found miles away. She's all excited. I think she's been watching too many Unsolved Crime shows and sees us as genius detectives."
Lisa got up with her coffee cup and saucer and, seeing that her daughter had finished the cereal, took the bowl with her to the sink as well. "I know, I know, telling you to be careful is like telling a stone wall...."
"Mommmm," complained Haley. "I can summon tornadoes and fly. What could happen to me?"
III.
"Dad says I have to get back home by five," Gina said at a red light. "He wants to go to Home Depot and pretend he knows plumbing repair." The same age as Haley, Gina Giacomo did have her day license and was allowed to use the family's Accord within reason. In popular student consensus, she was one of the prettiest girls in their high school. Italian on both sides, small and curvy, she had a wild mane of thick black curly hair she took great pains to maintain. At the wheel, with the car's heat on, she had unbuttoned her long black cloth coat and taken off her thin leather gloves.
Seated beside her, Haley Lawson examined her own cuticles critically. She did not spend half as much time on caring for skin, hair and nails. Sometimes, when sitting next to Gina, she felt rough and unfinished. "It's too much hassle to fly in this weather. I can't wear my cloak, and that makes balance tougher to maintain. And I'd have to surround myself with warmer air at the same time. It's a lot to do all at once."
"On the other hand, if you DID fall, you might land in a snow bank," Gina laughed, showing impeccable teeth of amazing whiteness. "Butt up in the air, probably."
"Probably," Haley agreed. "How do you know about the guy whose body was found, anyway?"
"It's all social media. I have got more friends online than a pop star. I know ALL the gossip."
The Windcatcher went on, "So, someone told you that the cops found a corpse by the side of Van Broek Road this morning, then?"
"Yeah. We're coming up on it now. You know Bradly Coogan, right, his older brother is a cop and he told Bradly they found a dead man ten feet off the road. Neck broken. The man's been identified, his wallet was on him, his car was found eight miles up Scheffel Lane, abandoned."
Haley made a noise that indicated she was interested.
"Oh, and you know what? This is cool. They know he died before one in the morning. You wanna know how they know that? Huh?"
"Because of the amount of fallen snow on the body, I bet."
Gina took her eyes off the road a bit too long for prudence to grin at her friend. "That's right. Hey, you're sharp. You didn't have to think about it."
"I have been reading SO many books on criminal science and forensics and all that," Haley admitted. "Sometimes it gets me down. I have to watch cartoons for an hour to cheer up again."
"There's the spot!" Gina swung the yellow Accord over to the side of the road and the two girls hopped out. An area twenty feet across had been trampled thoroughly by dozen of footprints.
"Well, drat," Haley muttered. "Look at that mess. I guess my brilliant deductive reasoning processes aren't going to get a chance. It looks they held a dance here!" Despite her discouraged words, Windcatcher walked up and down the road, studying the scene and frowning.
"I hope we don't have a winter like last year," Gina said irrelevantly, hands jammed in her pockets. "Remember that ice storm?"
"Gina, do you remember if the cops said the man had been thrown off the road? Those exact words?"
"Well, that's what Bradly said, anyway. I can ask him. Why?"
Haley started moving back toward the car. "I was just thinking, your average guy couldn't throw another man twenty feet. If the police said the victim was dragged, that'd be more realistic. But thrown...?! Maybe this is Midnight War after all."
Pulling out onto the road again, Gina asked, "Where do you wanna go next?"
"I guess we should see where the car was abandoned. That's suspicious. If it didn't go into a ditch or run out of gas, I don't why the perp didn't just keep driving to the next town or whatever." Haley shook her head. "Everyone says this is like doing jigsaw puzzles, you move the pieces around until they all fit together."
IV.
Cane in one hand and Browning automatic in the other, Warren Breck came slowly down the stairs from his bedroom. His back hurt so much that he was in a mood where he hoped a burglar was there so he had an excuse to shoot someone. Not even sixty-five yet and the damned arthritis was crippling him. A small thin man even in his prime, Breck was dried into a fragile scarecrow bundled in a thick wool robe.
Sure enough, light poured out into the living room from the open kitchen door. Whoever had broken in was either bold or had no common sense. Breck made his way forward as quietly as he possibly could. The Browning's safety was off and there was a shell in the chamber ready to punch a hole in the fool. Breck peered into the kitchen and his heart missed a few beats.
Ripping apart a rotisserie chicken with his hands was a raggedly dressed man whose head scraped the ceiling and whose bulk was wide enough for a normal person to hide behind. He was incredibly deformed, one arm longer than the other, oversized white-skinned hands gnarled with taut sinews. The flat-topped head had lank dead black hair hanging down, one eye was larger and bulging, the nose was a mere peg above a mouth that curled up at the left end from a scar. There was still snow clinging to the tattered suit jacket that was a full size too small so that the thick forearms were bare.
What accident could have happened to make this poor soul look like this?
Then the intruder raised that misshapen head and spotted Breck. In the most ironic tone possible, he quietly said, "Boo."
"I know you. By God, I know you. Quilt! You're Quilt."
"I am generally regarded as a mere urban legend," said the monster in his polished way. "You are an enlightened host."
Stepping into the kitchen, lowering the pistol, Breck went on. "I was sixteen. Lancaster, Pennsylvania, that hotel fire that took one hundred lives. Someone had jammed the exit doors. My family lived nearby, we watched the horrible tragedy in our pajamas in the middle of the night. And I saw you! Away from the crowd, under a tree, laughing as people burned to death."
The creature ripped off a drumstick and began gnawing at it with broken, yellowed teeth. "Ah, you have a good memory, sir. Although I am admittedly easy to recognize."
"What ARE you? Why have you been killing people for God knows how long?"
"Please have a seat, sir. That gun won't even annoy me, you know." As the old man pulled out a chair and gingerly lowered himself into it, Quilt said, "I have been called the Patchwork Zombie, a garish term but accurate. By Darthan sorcery, body parts of seven executed murderers were fused together and given this semblance of life. That was more than a century ago."
Breck unconsciously placed his gun on the table, staring at the creature with appalled fascination. "You... you're a sort of Frankenstein Monster?"
That twisted face scowled. "Unfortunately, the comparison seems inevitable. I wish I could say I inspired the novel, but it does predate me. My Darthan sorcerer may have had Shelley's story in mind, he never got a chance to say. He left this life abruptly."
An uneasy silence held as the brute finished off the cold chicken. "I don't actually need to eat, you realize, but I enjoy it once in a while. As much for the flavors as anything else. How is it you're not babbling in terror and either shooting at me or running for your life?"
That made Beck laugh. "Look at me. I couldn't run from a turtle. And I know shooting you is useless. What else am I supposed to do?"
Quilt studied the man thoughtfully. The monster's mismatched eyes made his expression difficult to read. He examined the chicken for scraps a little more before continuing, "It's been years since I could have an actual conversation with anyone. Always all the begging and crying and shrieking...! Very tedious."
"I assume you're on the run?"
"Quite an understatement," Quilt chuckled. "Nothing official. There is no FBI reward for my capture. No police departments are circulating my photos. Public panic, you understand. But, using code words and roundabout descriptions, the authorities have been hunting me for decades."
"Stay here for a few days. Rest. If I drive you back to Manhattan and let you out at night, there will be no stolen cars that the police will be looking for."
"True. True. Bridges and tunnels are a nuisance to cross. I have to break into delivery trucks or eighteen wheelers to be undetected. I like your suggestion, sir. You don't play chess, by any means?"
"I'm rated 1800."
"A worthy challenge! Very well. Think of me as an house guest."
Breck's withered face bent in a smile suddenly as malicious as that of the monster. "And as long as you are staying here, perhaps you might even do me a favor. You enjoy killing, don't you?"
"I was made from seven murderers, after all!" roared the monster in sudden glee.
VI.
At midnight, Haley came down from her room. She turned on a low-watt lamp in the living room before heading to the door. This was the signal she and her mother had agreed on to show Windcatcher had gone out. As soon as she returned, Haley always switched the light off again.
Lisa Lawson was far from happy with this arrangement and thought about going back on the agreement frequently. Every time she woke up and saw the thin line of light under her bedroom door, she knew she would not be getting back to sleep again. But she admitted that she herself had been even younger than Haley when she had fought in the Midnight War with her family as the Heirs of Buliwyf. She told herself that if she did lay the law about no more night adventures, that Haley would sneak out anyway and there would be constant fighting between them. Her friend Jeremy Bane had accepted Haley as an applicant to join the Kenneth Dred Foundation in a few months. That was small comfort.
Outside in the chilly air, Haley pulled down the black ski mask that she usually wore up as a hat. She was well bundled up. Before leaving, she double-checked her fully charged phone was in her zipped-shut pocket. There was also a burner phone, a powerful Maglite and some first aid items. She relaxed her mind, reaching out mystically through the Air Gem and contacted a tornado in Western Australia. Winds in excess of two hundred miles per hour swept her up off the patio and over the rooftops of her neighborhood. She straightened her body like a diver, arms ahead of her, leveling off to soar parallel to the ground.
Stretching out below her in the moonlight, the snow-covered town was so peaceful and immaculate that it gave her a twinge. In June, she was supposed to move to Manhattan to join the KDF. What a change that was going to be. As excited as she was at the plan, a certain trepidation still made her uneasy. But then a lot of her classmates were moving off to different colleges, too.
Haley found her way to Scheffel Lane, where the stolen SUV had been found. According to Gina's gossip sources, the police were going on the assumption that the killer had abandoned the vehicle and kept walking. So they were concentrating their efforts on the area beyond, which including the residential Serenity Park. But Haley wasn't convinced. It had occurred to her that a devious criminal might have left the SUV and then headed back the way he had come from, precisely to send the cops off in the wrong direction.
The tornado winds were a little weak tonight and she felt wobbly. Best results were during late summer when the storms were found all over Texas and Kansas. Losing confidence in her flight, she let herself descend and made a very neat landing by the side of the road. She would walk for a while. Part of her subconscious would continue to search for a suitable tornado to latch onto.
Trudging along a dark country road with woods on either side, late at night in winter, Haley Lawson wondered not for the first time if she was a little crazy. She knew some kids were having a beer party at Webster's house. Or she could join Gina and Bentley for Netflix and junk food. Or she could even, God forbid, be snoring happily in her warm clean bed.
The houses out here were really nice, all new and well-kept with long stretches of undeveloped land between them. She imagined all those areas would fill up with new houses soon. As she walked, Windcatcher wished for some warm dry air and was immediately surrounded by a bubble of some. It felt like maybe 45 degrees and low humidity. Haley had a vague intuition that the air was coming from the Southwest, Arizona or possibly New Mexico. Exactly how the ancient gem responded to her thoughts and how it instantly siphoned masses of air thousands of miles was beyond her. Gralic sorcery of the highest order.
To her right was an interesting split-level house with a deck, all made of redwood. A bright blue light over the front door showed a car that was running with only its parking lights on. Haley glanced over casually, then froze motionless in mid-step. What the Hell...? A giant dark shape was straightening up beside the driver's side. The top of the car barely came up to his waist. Windcatcher realized she was holding as still as a deer caught in the headlights. Suddenly alarmed, she faded back behind some trees and peered warily out.
Low ominous laughter rumbled from the huge man in black. He swung around and shambled clumsily along the plowed driveway toward the road. His awkward gait seemed to derive from one leg being slightly shorter than the other, but he moved with quick determination. As the brute swung right in the road, Haley caught a glimpse of a deformed white-skinned face that was split by a maniacal leer. Then he stomped off into the night.
That was a monster, she thought. Not some serial killer or mob hitman or anything, but a real no-fooling Midnight War monster! Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel a tightness in her chest.
Haley saw he was out of sight and sprinted across the road and up to the idling car. As soon as she looked in the driver's window, she felt vomit in the back of her mouth and choked it back. It had been a woman. Long white hair. Nice fur-trimmed coat. The face was a flat red mush from which one eyeball and a tooth protruded.
Backing away, hands shaking, Haley tried to calm herself. She had seen dead bodies before in her brief career. But this one was so gruesome and so clearly in sight, not a huddled mass in the distance. It must have happened recently. It must have happened only a few minutes ago. That was what the big creature had been doing just as she had casually been strolled past.
Settle down, she yelled at herself. This is what you came out tonight to do. This is what Windcatcher is all about. Haley marched to the end of the driveway and fished around in a pocket for her disposable burner phone. This had struck her as a genius level idea at the time. She called 911 and reported what seemed to be a terrible accident at the address, it looked like a dead person. And then she hung up and pocketed the phone to dispose of it later.
Part of her subconscious fixed on a full-scale tornado somewhere. Finally. With a whoosh that sprayed snow in all directions, she shot up into the night air and tore along above the road. Fear was forgotten in the adrenalin rush.
VII.
At the kitchen table, Breck had laid out a steaming hot beef pot pie twelve inches across. He had melted strips of sharp cheddar cheese on the crust and cut off a wedge for himself. As he chewed slowly, the door opened and the massive bulk squeezed through. "That was refreshing," Quilt announced. He pulled out a chair that creaked under his weight and tore off half the pot pie for himself.
"She's dead, then?"
"She will never be more dead!" roared Quilt. "The mortician will have quite a chore making her presentable. I am known for making closed casket ceremonies necessary...." He began shoveling the hot food in his misshapen mouth.
There were four bottles of Budweiser beer on the table, and Breck pushed one over toward the brute. "I admit to feeling great relief knowing that Darlene is not longer walking this Earth."
"An ex-wife, I assume?" Instead of the deep guttural voice one might expect from such a beast, Quilt spoke with the gentle plummy tones of a BBC announcer. The contrast was surreal.
"No, no, Heaven forbid. She was shift supervisor at my job the last twelve years and she was the most abusive person I ever met. Every day, she went out of her way to hurt someone."
Quilt gulped down a chunk of pot pie that would have choked a normal Human, then considered his host for a moment. "Winter is my favorite time of year for murder. Snow, cold, darkness and death. All the ingredients I prefer for my calling."
"Any idea how many victims?"
"Oh, no. I lost count immediately. When you make a plane crash or a school bus go off a bridge, it's hard to keep track of the numbers. I must say, good sir, you seem uncommonly at ease not only at my presence but at all this unsavory talk."
Breck laughed. "I'm a bitter man, Quilt. My wife left me after I caught her cheating. When I retired, the union found an excuse to give me a reduced pension. Then there's the arthritis! Constant pain in back and legs. I'd actually enjoy seeing you rid the world of a few more local people who have annoyed me. The manager of the East Island Credit Union, for example. He turned me down for a car loan."
That hideous face studied Breck. With one eye both larger and misaligned with its mate, his stare could not be anything but uncomfortable. "Hmm. Perhaps. One more murder and then I should leave the area. As incompetent and sluggish as the police are, they do tend to turn up eventually. Tomorrow night, then. After that, drive me into Manhattan and I will have a good time there. So many places to hide..."
Breck was watching the last bit of the beef pot pie as if summoning up nerve to claim it.
"Wait!" Quilt swung his brutal head around sharply. "I heard something! Outside!" He heaved up to his full towering height and glared at his host. "If you've betrayed me, I swear you will be a long time dying, my friend."
With that, the Zombie yanked open the kitchen door and strode out into the darkness. He sniffed the air. There! By Breck's white Jeep Vanquish, it looked like a young person bundled up in winter clothing. A girl?!
"I smell gralic energy," Quilt growled. "Don't tell me you're a knight of Tel Shai."
"Who, me?" yelped Haley nervously. "I want to ask to use a phone. My phone died. My ride never showed up, and I'm freezing...."
"You're hopelessly bad as a liar," the monster scoffed, stalking closer. "Did you know screams carry further in cold air? I'll show you."
In the next second, Haley tried to summon tornado winds.. and failed. By the laws of chance, there had to be a moment now and then when there were no suitable storms on Earth. With a lunge, the Patchwork Zombie seized the front of her down-filled coat in one irresistible hand and lifted her up off the ground entirely.
Acting on reflex, Windcatcher latched onto the superheated air over an active volcano on one of the outermost Hawaiian islands. Suddenly the monster's head was enveloped in a bubble at fifteen hundred degrees Fahrenheit, his skin and hair burst into flame and he shrieked a wild unhuman howl.
Released, stumbling back and almost falling, Haley Lawson yelled, "Yeah, let's have YOU do the screaming!" She widened the aura of volcanic air around the beast so that his clothes were blazing as well. The entire yard was brilliantly lit. Haley kept backing up as she realized the monster had become a human torch but showed no signs of dying or even falling. The burning creature slapped at itself in a hopeless effort to put the fires out.
He might still get me, he might still get me, Haley thought as she backpedaled. The thing didn't seem to be coming after her directly, but the burning didn't seem to be destroying him either. Windcatcher was close to panic. She had thought her experiences in the Midnight War had made her tough and fearless but right then she felt like a little kid. She realized she wanted her mother there to take over the fight. Or their friend Jeremy Bane, HE'D beat the snot out of this creature.
A sharp crack of a gunshot sounded nearby, and this time she did lose her footing and sprawled in the snow next to the Jeep. In the open doorway of the house stood a man in a bathrobe, and he was holding an automatic with both hands. Wait. He was aiming it at her! Not at the monster. Abruptly furious rather than terrified, she flung hundred mile per hour Antarctic winds at him that reached forty below zero. Covered with frost, the man was thrown bodily back into the house.
Swinging toward the blazing creature, Haley let him have the same summoning. Even as the flames went out, ice crystals covered the seared and blackened monster and he finally fell backward with a dull thud. Haley realized she was hyperventilating and bent forward, hands on her knees, trying to take deep breaths. Before she got hold of herself, she heard a siren and saw flashing blue and red lights coming up the road. The cops! Great. Let them take over. She had been through enough. This time, she found sufficient winds to lift her quickly up and out of sight as two cruisers skidded up the snow-covered driveway. Two officers jumped out with their sidearms already drawn, showing no inclination to rush into the situation.
On the ground, the charred figure coated in ice still twitched and tried to raised a clawed hand.
As good as invisible at one hundred feet up, Haley Lawson swung around and soared back up Scheffel Lane at a good clip. She could feel her hands shaking. Maybe she wasn't ready for the real Midnight War yet. In the morning, she'd see if tomorrow's papers or local TV news mentioned any of this. Maybe she'd check with Gina if social media had any mention of all the mayhem. She certainly wasn't going to bring up her activities this night if she could help it. She would never be more satisfied to turn off the lamp in the living room of her home and sneak upstairs and get under the heavy covers.
12/9/2024
no subject
Date: 2024-12-09 06:05 am (UTC)And I have reservations about Lisa allowing Haley (still a minor) to go out alone at night on these adventures. True, Lisa was a Windcatcher herself when she was fifteen but she was usually with her family. It doesn't reflect well on Lisa that she doesn't at least try to keep her kid safe at home.
The Windcatcher stories are inspired mostly by the Human Torch solo series that appeared in STRANGE TALES.
Nobody, including the police, seemed to be bothered by sixteen year old Johnny Storm fighting villains and armed crooks. But then, he was the Torch with major super-powers, it was the early 1960s and (let's face it) he was a boy. You'd think everyone would be more concerned about Haley but the entire town seems to think it's all perfectly normal. I think it's an effect of the Air Gem magic.