Heart of Ice Page 17

Chapter 13

  Ice stole into the trees and followed his earlier path downhill. He crept close enough to the boathouse to confirm Nesbitt was still inside and then set to work. Removing the handle so he could get into the garage had taken longer than he would've liked, so he had to assume Nik was now tied up.

  Ice knew he was Dale and Nik's last hope, so he'd better get this right.

  The building he'd broken into was indeed a storage area, housing two riding mowers, a truck, and an aluminum rowboat. As he'd surveyed the materials available to him, a plan began to form that Ice thought was quite fitting. After all, turnabout was fair play.

  He dropped a coil of rope on the ground and studied the surrounding trees. It'd been five or six years, but he'd performed this act many times while hunting with Dale and his dad, and Ice hoped it was like riding a bicycle. Although they'd never pursued human-sized prey, he figured he could apply the same principals on a grander scale.

  Executing his plan proved to be time consuming and the sun was sinking low in the sky by the time he finished. Only a couple hours remained before full-dark and they needed to be back in Cass Lake before that happened. The ice was marginally safe. Crossing it in the dark would be foolish.

  Still, Ice took another minute to double check his work.

  Then he climbed to the top of the hill and trudged over to the trampled pathway. Slowly he descended the snowy stairs. "Nik!" he shouted. "Dale!" The snow crunched under his feet and he intentionally let his footfalls land hard, causing the wood underneath to make hollow thumps.

  Almost immediately a metallic squeal emanated from the boathouse as the door was shoved open.

  Ice froze for a minute as terror exploded inside his chest and spread a chill through his bloodstream. Large yellow owl's eyes gleamed manically as they spied him at the bottom of the hill. Tufts of matted hair protruded from Nesbitt's tattered shirt and his chest bore brown-red stains that Ice didn't want to contemplate.

  He stood rooted in place until the creature bellowed—a long eerie howl that split the cold silence of the island.

  Heart pounding, Ice darted into the stand of trees, willing the Windigo to follow him. Driven by instinct, more animal now than man, the creature lunged in pursuit.

  Having gained supernatural strength as part of his transition, the Windigo was quickly on Ice's tail and he increased his pace, slipping and sliding on the snowy incline. He needed to draw Nesbitt on the right course if his plan was going to work.

  The creature was faster than Ice had expected. It growled menacingly, sending shivers down Ice's spine. He realized with dismay that the Windigo would be on him before he made it to the spot where he'd planned to act as bait. With the sound of Nesbitt's ragged breathing right behind him, Ice dug into the snow with his bare hands, desperate to get away and terrified as much of failure as of the creature at his heels.

  Then he heard a crash and a yelp. Sparing a quick glance over his shoulder, Ice saw the Windigo rising from the snow, its ghoulish eyes glowing with malice.

  Ice redoubled his efforts to get up the hill. As he eyed the trees and adjusted his course, his boot caught in the undergrowth and he toppled, face first, into the snow. Pulse hammering, he rolled immediately and found the Windigo nearly at his feet. The creature lunged, sinking its claws into Ice's snow pants. He felt the sharp tips slice into his skin.

  Ice yelled, jerking his leg from Nesbitt's grasp. Then, crawling sideways instead of backward, he prayed he'd made it just far enough and drew the pruning knife from his parka pocket.

  Except the Windigo didn't follow Ice's intended course. Utter panic now drove Ice upward, his breath rasping irregularly. If he was going to be captured, Ice reasoned, he might as well throw caution to the wind and do whatever gave him the best chance of stopping Nesbitt. Pausing to look up, he took two steps to the left and turned around to face the creature head-on.

  In an instant, the monster was right in front of him, his inhuman nails extended to tear into Ice's chest. Heart thumping wildly, Ice reached out with the pruning knife and slashed down hard on a rope extending from a tree.

  Suddenly there was a loud snap and then the Windigo roared in disbelief as his feet went out from under him. He slammed to the ground only to be drawn back into the air, upside down, and remain dangling there by his feet. The creature issued a howl of rage, bucking wildly and attempting to slash at his restraints with his formidable claws.

  Ice lurched into motion, locating a baseball bat he'd stowed by a tree. Waiting until the Windigo lunged upward again, Ice clocked him neatly on the back of the head. Nesbitt slumped limply in the snare.

  Recovering a jump rope, Ice secured the Windigo's wrists together and then hurried down the hill to the boathouse.

  Nik still lay on the floor, his hands bound. Ice pressed his fingers to the medicine man's neck, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt a steady pulse. Using the pruning knife, he quickly freed Nik's hands. Then he moved to Dale, frowning as he located a much weaker pulse.

  Again using the flashlight on his phone, Ice rummaged through the fishing gear until he found a minnow bucket. Tipping it upside down, he climbed up alongside Dale. He put an arm around him while he sawed at the rope looped over the hook. Ice tightened his hold as the fibers gave away, but as the last of the rope snapped, Dale's weight yanked him from Ice's arm. Ice teetered on the bucket as Dale sagged to the floor.

  Leaping over Dale's body, Ice stepped out the door, took a cursory glance to make sure Nesbitt was still knocked out, and then gathered some clean snow. He applied the snow to both Nik and Dale's cheeks and forehead, willing them to regain consciousness.

  Nik's eyes were first to flutter open. "Ice!" he exclaimed, struggling to sit up and glancing anxiously at the doorway. "Watch out for Nes—"

  "It's okay Nik. I got him. He's tied up outside."

  Nik blinked, digesting his apprentice's words.

  "Help me with Dale," Ice said. "Do you know what Nesbitt did to him?" He was half afraid to ask and even more afraid to find out. When he'd pushed Dale onto his back, Ice noted the boy's blood soaked pant leg. He was also missing a boot, but thankfully not a foot.

  The medicine man shook his head. "No, I don't know. He was hanging there when the Windigo dragged me in." He'd rolled to his knees and scooted closer to Dale.

  Ice retrieved some fresh snow, pressing it gently to Dale's face.

  Dale turned his head away and moaned. "No," he protested weakly.

  Ice drew back. "Dale. It's me, Ice. And Nik's here. We've got Nesbitt."

  Dale cracked his eyes open. He took in Ice and Nik hunched over him then tried to move. All at once, horror filled his eyes and he croaked, "Oh God, my leg! Did he take my leg?"

  "No man, it's here," Ice assured him "You've got both feet."

  Nik leaned forward. "Do you remember what happened?"

  "He took a piece of me," Dale mumbled, closing his eyes.

  Ice blanched, exchanging a look with Nik. Then he stood abruptly. "There's a first aid kit in the snowmobile," he explained as he dashed out the door.

  By the time they got Dale patched up—Nesbitt had wacked a piece off the back of his calf—and loaded the Windigo on a snowmobile, the sunlight slanted through the trees. Dale was coherent enough to hang on so he rode behind Nik. Ice drove the machine with Nesbitt strapped across the seat since he was better equipped to handle an awkward load. They took off, traveling just a bit faster than Ice would've liked, but they were determined to beat the sunset and get off the island.

  Their visibility degraded as less and less light filtered through the evergreens. They had to stop once when Ice misjudged a curve and laid the machine on its side. Finally they broke out of the trees and emerged on the southern shore of the island.

  Although dusk lingered on the open lake, the horizon already obscured the bottom of the scarlet sun. They'd be racing the sunset as they crossed the ice.

  Ice had led the way across the island, but he paused to wave Nik in front of h
im. They could go faster here in the open and Ice thought it would be best for the medicine man to set a pace he was comfortable with.

  Nik accelerated onto the lake surface, adjusted his course for the lights of Cass Lake, and then twisted the throttle. His machine jumped forward, speeding across the ice. A beat later, Ice advanced into the medicine man's tracks and followed. He glanced to his right, where the last of the day's light faded from the sky. The first pinpoints of the brightest stars were visible in the eastern sky on his left. He flicked on the headlight, hoping Nik would do the same.

  Twilight painted the frozen lake surface in shades of blue and gray. Ice glanced at his speedometer. Nik must've regained his confidence on the snowmobile; he was going a little faster than Ice had on the trip over. Suddenly Ice remembered the banked snow he'd avoided on their way to the island.

  He pictured Cass Lake and the proximity of Star Island to land. They'd just taken off from the southeastern shore of the island—on the way over, Ice had aimed for the southwestern tip. Would their current trajectory take them around the anomaly on the ice?

  Only if the rough area was far enough out from land. As they neared the shore, the way Stony Point crooked out into the water, they'd be forced to adjust their bearings. Ice figured that would put them roughly on the same course he'd been on earlier.

  He increased his speed. He'd pass Nik and lead him around the spot.

  As he shifted his course from behind Nik and off to the right, he saw the headlight on the medicine man's machine blaze to life and illuminate mounds of snow. Nik saw them too, and unaware that Ice was advancing on his right side, he veered in the same direction.

  Ice immediately released the gas and applied the brakes, but he was too close: he would smash into the other machine before he stopped. Instinctively, he jerked the skis to the left. His momentum catapulted him across the frozen lake directly toward a snow bank. He wrenched the handlebars harder, but still slammed into the mounded snow and was launched into the air. Had he hit the bank head-on, he might've had a chance to recover control when he landed. Instead, his diagonal orientation dropped the machine back to the ice on its side.

  Ice threw his arms up and pushed with his legs, hurling himself off the seat before the snowmobile landed and smashed his limbs underneath. He dropped with a hard thud that momentarily stunned him. The machine crashed to the ice, Nesbitt pinned beneath it. Ice struggled up on his elbows, his head spinning.

  Then he heard the boom.

  He was familiar with the sound of ice cracking on a lake—the same sound ice cubes make when liquid runs over them, except amplified proportionately.

  Ice tried to get to his feet and a terrific pain shot up his left leg. The buzz of the other snowmobile barely registered as he heard the frozen lake fracture again. Then suddenly the sound of shattering ice filled the night and he saw the machine shift as the surface beneath it crumpled.

  He scrambled backward like a wounded ant, watching in wide-eyed horror as first Nesbitt, and then the snowmobile, lurched into the hole while cracks continued to spider in his direction. He yelled and thought he might have heard an answering shout, but the ice under him buckled and he slid into the frigid water.

  Life is not separate from death. It only looks that way.

  Blackfoot