Frozen Past Read online

  Frozen Past

  Richard C. Hale

  Richard C. Hale

  Frozen Past

  Part 1

  Prologue

  Stewy Littleton had stayed out too late. He didn’t know what happened or why he’d lost track of time, he just knew his mother was going to kill him. That was a certainty. In the whole of his twelve year old life, he’d never been this late.

  His costume was torn at one shoulder and the bag of candy he carried was much too small for all the time he’d been out, so he knew his mother would know what he’d been up to. He would have some serious explaining to do.

  This was his last Halloween, the last time he would be allowed to roam the neighborhoods scaring the little kids and loading up on free candy. He was getting too old. He had wanted to make it the best Halloween ever. Now he’d had too much fun and was going to pay for it.

  He grinned to himself even though he knew he was in trouble. It had been worth it. His black outfit and white mask had made him almost impossible to see on the moonless night, at least until he’d wanted to be seen. The best part had been when he’d jumped out from behind a tree and made the little five year old kid dressed up as Spiderman pee his pants. A grown man probably would have screamed.

  The eggs he’d stolen out of the fridge hadn’t lasted very long, but Old Lady Whitney had gotten splattered by one when Stewy plastered her door as she opened it. The little kids waiting for her to give them candy had screamed and sprinted off. He laughed so hard he thought for sure she had heard him.

  Now, as he made his way through the dark empty streets, he tried to come up with an excuse. Everything his little mind thought of would not stand up to his mother’s questions and he began to realize he’d just have to live with whatever happened. He’d probably get put on restriction for a couple of weeks with no TV and no friends. Hopefully she would let him keep the candy.

  “Help me…”

  Stewy froze. The sound came from the bushes to his right. He waited and listened. It was so quiet. Nothing moved or made a sound. Maybe he had imagined it. As he took another step toward home, the voice came again, a little louder.

  “Help me…”

  Stewy knew he wasn’t imagining now. Somebody was definitely there, but it was so faint. The voice was weird and he couldn’t tell if it was a girl or a boy. It was like a whispered croak. A whispered croak of pain.

  “Who are you?” Stewy said softly, bent over, trying to see into the gloom of the hedge.

  “Help me…”

  The voice rasped the two words together like dry paper. Stewy shivered as a cold finger of fear ran up his spine. The voice was directly in front of him, but he could see nothing. He looked left, right, and then licked his lips not sure what to do. He waited a whole minute frozen there but nothing happened. His whole body listened, trying to hear the faintest sound, straining against the darkness and silence that pressed up against him.

  He finally said, “I can’t see you. Where are you?”

  The voice didn’t answer. Nothing moved, nothing made a sound. Stewy stood up straight, looked left and right again, and was about to take a step when the voice came again.

  “Help me…please.”

  Now the voice sounded different. Not so much in pain, but maybe a little like it was making fun of him. Stewy did not like it. In fact, he wanted to run.

  “Please…help.”

  “I can’t help you if I can’t see you,” Stewy said, his voice shaking. “Where are you?”

  “Right here.” the voice said, louder, a little titter of laughter trailing off at the end. Stewy frowned in puzzlement and he leaned in closer to the hedge, taking a step toward it. An arm shot out from inside the bushes and grabbed him by the hair. It yanked him hard into the hedge as a searing pain shot through Stewy’s scalp. He opened his mouth to scream but a large sweaty hand clamped over it, smashing his lips against his teeth, his scream a muffled gag as he was pinned to the ground. The hand came away and was immediately replaced with a rag that covered his mouth and nose. It smelled like some chemical. He didn’t want to breathe, but he couldn’t help it. The world he knew began to spin and then Stewy’s last Halloween blinked out like a switch.

  Chapter 1

  Luke Harrison knelt and packed the rectangular block of snow tightly against the previous block, making the wall he was building about six feet long.

  “That’s enough, isn’t it?” Luke said.

  “Yeah. That should do it,” Jimmy Besner said. Jimmy was the oldest of the three teenage boys and it usually fell to him to make the decisions.

  Jimmy’s brother, John, looked it over and said, “I don’t know? Looks lopsided over here.”

  “It’s fine,” Jimmy said.

  “I can’t make any more anyway,” Luke said. “My hands are freezing.”

  “Start making snowballs, then,” John said. “We didn’t have near enough last time.”

  “Why do I always have to make the snowballs, you guys never make ‘em.”

  “You’re the youngest. You make the snowballs,” Jimmy stated matter-of-factly.

  Luke cursed under his breath, but did what he was told. He also knew he was the best at it and this was why he always got the job.

  He could barely feel his fingers, even with the mittens on, and he blew into his hands trying to get some feeling back. It had been an unusually cold winter for Annandale, Virginia, but the plus had been lots of snow, and lots of snow days from school. Ninth grade was a pain and Luke hated it, so any chance to get out of it was the best thing that could happen.

  John came and knelt next to Luke and began making snowballs with him. Jimmy stood watch. The attack would be coming soon. They needed to be ready.

  The three of them had been in a constant war with the kids from Willow Branch Court, two blocks to the north. It was their turn to defend and so far the contest was tied. Two battles apiece. The problem was the kids from Willow Branch outnumbered them five to three. Luke didn’t care, he was better at throwing than all five of the attackers put together. They never even considered it unfair; it was just the way it was.

  The pile of snowballs grew to a decent number, but Luke knew they needed more. He hurried to make as many as he could, but then Jimmy yelled, “Here they come!” and jumped down behind the wall. He began forming snowballs and adding them to the pile as quickly as he could.

  Peering over the top of the wall, Luke got a good look at their opposition. He cursed. “Crap! They have a wagon full. We’re gonna get killed.”

  “Just ‘cause they have more doesn’t mean they’re any better than last time,” Jimmy said. “Now get down and make more.”

  Luke started forming snowballs as fast as his frozen hands would let him.

  “Do we make the special ones?” John asked.

  Jimmy paused for a second and said, “No. Paul got stitches last time. We fight fair.”

  The ‘special ones’ were snowballs with ice in the middle. They were very fast and highly accurate, but could put a serious hurt on someone. Namely, Paul Bannon. Paul started it by getting the Willow Branch kids to make a few and Jimmy was hit in his throwing arm, causing it to go numb. Luke, Jimmy, and John lost that battle.

  To get back at them, Jimmy made some for the next battle, and the three targeted Paul with the special snowballs. One nailed him right in the face. Paul ran home screaming with blood running down his chin and had to go to the emergency room where he received seven stitches. It was agreed upon after that, no one would use ice balls any more. This was supposed to be fun, after all.

  Luke peeked over the wall again. “They’re splitting up.”

  Jimmy stood and watched for a second. “Alright. Enough. We don’t have time for more. The wagon and three of them are moving towa
rd our left, so John, you cover the right side, and me and Luke will cover the left. Make ‘em count.”

  The rules were simple, the team with the most hits won. If you were defending, you were not allowed out from behind your barrier. If you were attacking, you could basically do anything you wanted. There were no referees, so the teams had to agree upon the winner after the battle, and this sometimes resulted in a shouting match over who the victor was. The honor system worked for the most part, but kids will be kids.

  If you made a kid cry, the battle was over automatically, and the team with the crybaby lost. Because of this rule, both teams worked hard at making somebody bawl.

  Two premature snowballs sailed over their heads and Luke grinned at Jimmy. “They suck!”

  Jimmy laughed as he hefted two snowballs in his hands. “Ready?”

  Luke nodded. “Yep,” John said.

  “Now!”

  All three stood as one and picked their targets. Luke saw Patrick Pemberton struggling with the wagon in the drifts of snow and aimed for his face. The first shot went wide right, but his second caught him in the neck. Patrick abandoned the wagon and ran for cover behind a tree a couple of feet away.

  “One!” Luke yelled.

  A snowball whizzed over his head, and he ducked down and grabbed two more. Jimmy knelt down and was hit in the top of his head as he grabbed for more. The other team yelled, “One!”

  John yelled, “Two!” and then a second later, “Three!” and started laughing.

  Snowballs were flying in all directions and it was hard for Luke to stay up for more than a second or two. Jimmy was whipping his arm in a frenzy, and John couldn’t stop laughing. Luke caught a slushy one in the chin. His face stung but he didn’t care. He pegged Patrick twice more and he and Jimmy hit Alan Grimes at the same time. They both yelled “Twelve!” together, then Luke grinned and yelled “Thirteen!”

  The pile of snowballs was shrinking and Jimmy told Luke to make more. The wagon the other team had was still half full but lay in the open, stuck in the drifts. The other team had to break cover to get to their hoard, and every time they did someone would get pelted. Luke’s team was leading thirteen to seven.

  Luke started scraping the ground. Dirt was showing in places and Luke couldn’t leave the cover of the wall for more snow. He shifted over to the right to dig deeper and began frantically scraping snow into a pile.

  “I’m out!” John yelled.

  “Take some of mine,” Jimmy yelled, tossing his brother a few. “Come on Luke!”

  “There’s hardly any snow left!” Luke said. “I’m trying!”

  A snowball bounced off the top of the wall and skipped into Luke’s hair. He didn’t even notice. He was forming snow into balls as fast as he could and when his pile was gone he knelt next to John and started digging near the right side of the wall. The Willow Branch boys were gaining on them and he heard them shout out ‘Eleven!’ as Jimmy cursed and spat snow from his mouth.

  “Damn that hurt!”

  Luke reached out beyond the wall and scooped snow into his side. A snowball whizzed past his head. He scraped another armful and something caught his eye. It looked like tan carpet or somebody’s discarded dirty coat buried in the snow. He scraped another armful toward him, uncovering more of the buried object, which now looked like fur and what Luke thought might be a red collar. He stopped and stared, not sure what to do. The battle seemed to fade into the background as his arm took on a life of its own, reaching toward the matted, dirty fur. He carefully scraped away some more and then stood, horrified. A snowball smacked into the side of his face and then he vomited all over the white snow as Patrick Pemberton yelled, “Twelve!”

  Chapter 2

  Eliana Pemberton cried into her pillow wondering when the ache in her chest would stop. Bentley, her two year old poodle mix and best friend in the world, was missing, and no one in the neighborhood had seen him. She put flyers up on every lamp post, knocked on every door, and searched relentlessly in all the places she knew he loved. He had disappeared, and she blamed herself.

  Two years ago, it had taken quite a bit of begging and pleading for her mom to finally give in and let her have the dog. She promised no one else would have to take care of him, swearing she’d be the one to housebreak him, cleaning up after his messes. Her mother actually said she was proud of how Eliana stuck to her promise, even when Bentley was sick and having diarrhea, even when he cried at night the first week, and especially when her brother threatened to drown the dog after he chewed up his favorite shoes.

  Eliana paid for new ones herself with her babysitting money. Two weeks of cleaning up after the Harris’ twins had been a nightmare, but Bentley had been worth it.

  And now, one little lapse in attention, one moment of laziness, and everything she’d done in the past meant nothing. All the devotion and attention wasted and tossed away because she hadn’t wanted her feet to get cold. She hated herself and sobbed even harder as she thought of the last time she had seen him.

  The snow had just fallen new and white, and Bentley needed to go. She had just gotten her pjs on when he whined at the back door.

  “Bent, no. You just went. It’s cold now,” she said, and he cocked his head the way he always did at the sound of her voice, but then scratched at the door and whined again. She sighed and walked over as he wagged his tail and yipped at her, seeming to smile. He was so cute it was hard for her to stay irritated at him.

  “Alright, but I’m staying in. It’s too cold and I don’t have any shoes.”

  He cocked his head again, his ears perking up as she unlocked the back door and held it open. He took a few steps into the icy night and then stopped, waiting for her. He never went out by himself.

  “No-you go. I’ll wait right here. Now hurry up.” She shooed at him with her hand and he got the point. She watched him make his way through the snow and ice, sniffing here and there, but taking his time.

  “Bentley, come on! Hurry up! It’s freezing!”

  He looked up once as she hugged herself against the cold and shivered, then he trotted off around the corner of the house into the dark as if on a mission.

  “Bentley, no! Stay in the back yard! Bentley!” That was the last time she ever saw him.

  They searched for over an hour with flashlights, but found nothing. It was as if he just up and vanished. They followed his footsteps in the new fallen snow to the front of the house where they disappeared into a row of bushes and never emerged again. Her mom couldn’t figure it out. It was as if someone picked him up and flew off with him. She waited all night by the back door so that when he found his way home, she would be there for him, but he never came back and she eventually dozed off sitting up against the door.

  Now, as she cried harder, she hated herself for abandoning him. If only she’d put her shoes on and gone out with him on the leash, she’d be hugging him to her right now while he licked her face and rolled over to get his tummy scratched. She missed him so much.

  She heard the front door slam shut and then her loser brother, Patrick, yelled up from the bottom of the stairs, “Ellie! I found your stupid dog!”

  She couldn’t believe her ears. “Bentley!” she shouted as she jumped up from her bed and bounded down the steps. Her brother stood at the base of the stairs with a wicked grin on his face, but she was too excited to question it. “Bentley! Where is he?”

  Her mom came into the hall from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. “You found the dog?” she said to Patrick.

  He nodded, still grinning.

  “Where is he?” Ellie asked, almost pleading.

  “He’s over on Cotton Court,” Patrick said.

  Ellie made a move for the door, but her mother grabbed her arm. “Hold on a sec’, hon. Why didn’t you bring him home?”

  Patrick’s grin grew and he glanced at Ellie and then his mother. “I couldn’t move him,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” his mother said warily.

  Ellie felt some
thing in her stomach lurch. She grabbed her brother’s arm tight and said with a voice that sounded far away, “What’s wrong with him?”

  Her brother continued to grin but said nothing. Ellie bolted for the door, bursting out into the morning cold and snow in just her PJ’s and socks. She ran as fast as she could, her feet numb from the snow and tears streaming back into her hair as she fought back the panic rising in her throat. Her mother’s voice chased her down the street, but Ellie was too fast and nothing would have stopped her anyway. Cotton Court was up ahead.

  * * *

  Jimmy and John stood staring at what was left of the dog while Luke scraped snow over the vomit with his shoe. He didn’t want to look at the headless dog anymore even though he had little left to throw up. He’d seen worse in his short life and it wasn’t that he couldn’t handle some cut up animal, but he knew this dog and knew its owner. In fact, Ellie Pemberton was someone very special to him. And Bentley had been pretty cool, too.

  “Crap,” Luke said. “Why did someone do this to Bentley?”

  Jimmy and John knew the dog, too, and shook their heads slowly in unison, like they were watching some demented tennis match.

  “I want to know WHO did this,” Jimmy said. “’Cause when I find out…” His voice trailed off as his fists clenched and unclenched in his gloves. It was so quiet, the leather squeaked as his fingers squeezed.

  The other boys had left and Patrick Pemberton had gone home to tell his sister. Luke had seen the glint in his eye and knew he would not be gentle with the news. Had Luke known exactly what Patrick was going to do, he would have never let him go alone. Luke couldn’t understand the huge difference between Patrick and his sister, Ellie. It was like night and day.

  Luke caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see a harried and distraught Ellie lurching through the snow toward them.