Mark Lukens: Ancient Enemy

He turned back to the garage. He needed to hurry; he could see the digital numbers from the microwave oven (bomb) counting down in his mind.

He hurried through the snow to the garage doors which were already partway open from when he’d entered the garage days ago. But he would need to push the doors open even wider to drive the snowmobile out.

And what if it doesn’t start? What if the battery is dead? What if that thing has known about the snowmobile the whole time and destroyed it already? What if it has known about your plans the whole time?

Cole pushed these thoughts away. He had to try. What else could he do?

He pushed at the other wooden door with his hands and immediately he felt the sting of the cold through his gloves. He pushed against the door, but it wasn’t budging. He leaned into it more, driving with his legs, trying to find some traction in the scattering of snow on the concrete of the garage and the gravel of the driveway in front of the doorway. One last push, and he nearly screamed with effort as …

… the door broke free with a crackling of ice; the garage door let out a wail of protest into the freezing air as he slid it all the way open until it thumped to a stop.

That might have woken Stella, he thought.

He hurried into the darkness of the garage. It was like entering the mouth of a cave. He thought about looking for a light switch somewhere on the wall; if the electricity worked in the cabin, then it must work out here. But he didn’t want to waste time with a search for the switch; he had to hurry. The flashlight should be enough to light his way. Besides, he knew exactly where he was going in the garage.

He turned on the flashlight, its beam knifed through the darkness and he could see the clouds of his quick breaths in front of his face. He moved forward through the pathways of boxes, crates, shelves, and junk. He came to the tarp over the snowmobile – it was just how he had left it, with a few boxes toppled down on top of the blue tarp.

Cole set the flashlight on a nearby shelf, and he tried his best to angle the light beam down onto the tarp. He pushed the boxes to the side and he ripped the tarp away; it made a loud crinkling noise when he stuffed it down between some boxes. He could see tiny ice crystals and dust floating in the air through the light beam.

And right where he’d seen it before was the snowmobile. He checked it over quickly, it was an older model, maybe ten years old he guessed, but it looked well-maintained. Living out here in the woods and mountains, this snowmobile would be someone’s (Tom Gordon’s) lifeline if a blizzard hit, and that person would take care of it; the snowmobile would need to be operable at all times.

He shoved his hand into his pants pocket and even though his fingers were beginning to go numb, he could feel the keys to the snowmobile. He grabbed the key and stuck it into the ignition. He twisted the key gently, he didn’t want to start the snowmobile, he just wanted to see if the electrical system still worked and wanted to see how much fuel was in it.

The lights of the snowmobile lit up when he twisted the key, and he could see the fuel gauge – almost full. He twisted the key to the off position, took it out of the ignition and pocketed it. He didn’t want to start the snowmobile yet – there was something else he needed to do, the other reason he was in the garage.

He grabbed the half-full gas can from the floor and ran for the open garage doors, he ran for the dark blue rectangle against the pitch black garage that was the open doorway. He almost expected Frank or Jose to step into that dark blue rectangle. He could see Frank’s head cocked to the side in his mind; he could see that plastic smile. “Where are you going, Cole?” Frank would ask in his pleasant but gurgling and grave-cold voice.

Or maybe Trevor would step into the doorway.

Cole pushed the thought of Trevor away.

No one stepped into the doorway and Cole ran out of the garage and right to the cabin.

Frank and the others would be coming now, Cole thought. They would be coming when they saw what he was doing.

You’re not following instructions, his mind whispered.

Fuck the instructions, Cole thought.

He ran through the snow as fast as he could and the gas in the plastic can sloshed as he stomped through the snow. His lungs were burning and his muscles were already aching from the run through the deep snow. He ran right up to the corner of the cabin, the same corner where Trevor had hopped over the porch railing down into the snow to check the back of the cabin the first day they were here – it seemed so long ago now.

Cole pulled off the plastic cap on the nozzle of the gas can and he tossed it into the snow; he wouldn’t need it anymore, he was going to use every bit of this gasoline. He sloshed the gas all over the logs of the cabin. He ran down the side of the cabin, drenching the logs as he went.

He hurried around to the back of the cabin and he continued to douse the wood with the gas. But now he saw something in the darkness. Two figures stumbling through the snowy back field, stumbling right towards him. It was difficult to make out the details of the figures, but just by the awkward way one of them moved through the snow, like the pieces of his body were shifting against each other, and the tatters of clothing were hanging from the frame, he could tell it was Trevor.

Cole didn’t watch them approach, he had to keep his mind on what he was doing, on his task at hand. The digital numbers were counting down in his mind. He rounded the corner of the cabin and ran as fast as he could through the snow, still dousing the logs on this side of the cabin with the gas he had left. He was afraid Needles and Trevor would catch up to him. He was afraid that he would feel cold dead fingers grabbing the back of his neck soon, afraid that he would hear his brother’s now-raspy voice.

The gas in the plastic container was almost gone when Cole got to the front corner of the cabin by the porch. He looked back behind him; he could see his tracks through the snow, but he didn’t see the two figures anymore.

You know who they were, his mind whispered to him. They were Needles and Trevor. You know that; don’t try to pretend that you don’t know who they were.

Cole ignored the whisperings in his mind that seemed to be getting louder and louder. He splashed what little gas he had left all over the logs and then he threw the gas can into the snow. He climbed up onto the railing from the snow and he clamored over the railing and dropped down onto the floorboards with a thud as snow spilled off his pants legs and boots. He got to his feet and he was about to bolt to the front door, but a voice stopped him in his tracks. It was Frank’s voice – this monster’s mouthpiece.

“What are you doing, Cole?”

Cole looked out at the field and he saw Frank standing in the snow. Same Frank. Same clothes. Same smile. Same hollowed-out body. Only this time Frank had someone else with him – Jose, and Jose held an ax.

“You need to kill the boy, Cole,” Frank said.

Cole took a step towards the front door, and then another, yet he still kept his eyes on Frank and Jose.

As Cole took a step closer to the front door, Jose took a step closer to the cabin.

Cole couldn’t see Jose all that well in the darkness, but even from what he could make out, he could tell that there was something wrong with the way Jose looked, something wrong with his body, his neck, and his face.

Cole took another step towards the front door; he was only about six or seven long strides away from it.

And now Jose started running towards the cabin through the snow. He raised the ax up in his hands that were way too thin – almost skeletal.

Cole ran for the door. His boots clomped down on the floorboards and snow flaked off of his pants and coat. He reached his hands out for the door handle as a thought raced through his mind.