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Little Red Vest
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Wind Chill Shadowplay
SHADOWPLAYCaleb Hunter rested his elbows on his desk. The small white carton of pork lo mein that rested between them had been empty for almost fifteen minutes. As usual, the remaining portion of his lunch break was spent looking out his office window.He sighed and rubbed his fingers against the streaks of gray encroaching on his temples. Across the street below, children frolicked, screaming while they chased each other and clambered over the playground equipment erected in the park. One young boy sat atop a large rock on the outskirts. His sneakered feet swung back and forth, heels striking the plaque bearing Caleb’s name amongst the donors. Each unheard thud against the metal reminded Caleb of the beat of a younger, healthier heart.How old was I the last time I hung upside down on the monkey bars until I got lightheaded? Or played kickball? Or had any actual fun?The laughter below dredged Brian’s grin from the depths of his memory, a lopsided assortment of gaps and baby teet
Wind Chill Jump Cuts
JUMP CUTSEllen Harris sleepwalked through town. Reflex lifted her feet with the February drifts, the whiteout in her mind even more complete. Her slow pace through the snow on the ground offered up no sound to wake her from the daily trance while her subconscious gorged on winter scenery, storing the skeleton fingers of white trees for future dreams and nightmares.A truck sped by her, the spraying of snow under its tires breaking the spell chanted by the wind. Ellen wiped the moisture from her face.Was that ten minutes I’ve been walking? She squinted in search of a landmark. Twenty?Ellen hid her face deeper inside the collar of her coat and picked up her pace, desperately trying to return to the dead zone in her head. She strained to find the emptiness, but it was too late. The past coughed the dust from its lungs and whispered to her instead. A different void began to creep inside her, and this one didn’t offer the comfort of oblivion. She glared at the taillights disappearing
Wind Chill The Skin Trade
THE SKIN TRADECarl Hanson nursed his whiskey and soda at the hotel bar. He observed the man reflected in the polished wood under his elbows, his free hand unsure whether to smooth the streak of gray hair resting near his temple or hide it. Carl grimaced, sharpening all the little lines in his face he was learning to hate. The smooth, hungry faces of the others he’d met at the conference leered through his memory.Young Turks as far as the eye can see. Probably snickering behind my back as soon as I got off stage. Or just planning how to gun for me. Well, I may be getting a little gray and overweight, but I’m not dead yet, kiddies.Carl downed the rest of his drink. Setting the glass down, his eyebrows raised when the bartender gave him a refill without prompting.The young man looked at Carl over his shoulder while returning the bottle to its spot on the shelf. White teeth flashed a conspiratorial smile in his tan face.“Courtesy of the lady at the end of the bar, sir.”Carl lea
Wind Chill The Deconstructionist
THE DECONSTRUCTIONISTAndy Harper drank in the world he’d wrought. The spires of massive skyscrapers pierced the clouds and gouged the ionosphere. Far below, the tangle of glass and steel stretched across the landscape. The streets that had once connected the buildings were no longer necessary. The roads had simply been swallowed up as the structures grew, the bulk of each tower melting into the next until all were united. Vacant, the rows of buildings stood sentry over what few patches of bare space remained below. All was silent until Andy’s mutter of disgust.It’s gone stale? Already?He waved his hand and let it all dissolve. As the structures had been built, they vanished, their outlines shimmering while the molecules composing them lost their solidity and came apart. Dozens of miles of metropolis were reduced to a vacant lot in a matter of seconds. Only a few places that held the essentials of life were allowed to remain behind. Andy sat and rested his narrow chin on his knuck
Wind Chill The Last Great Effect
THE LAST GREAT EFFECTClyde Reynolds pushed his foot down on the accelerator so hard his knee began to ache. He gritted his teeth, dodging around traffic and ignoring the profanity aimed his way through open windows. Reggie’s voice again drifted into the car via Bluetooth.“Clyde? You still there, man?”Clyde winced as yet another horn blared behind him. “Yeah! Yeah, I’m here. You just stay with me, okay? Just keep talking.”A sigh blew through the speakers. Tired. Dreamy. Clyde cringed deeper into his seat, feeling as if a precursor to his friend’s death rattle were blowing into the car like a dry Autumn breeze.“I’ve had an awful lot of pills. An awful lot. I’m sorry about all this.”Oh Christ!Clyde held his breath and blew past a red light. His hands throttled the wheel when the sign for Reggie’s street came into view. The car nearly tipped when he spun into the turn.Almost there. Keep him talking.“It’s okay! I’m your friend, remember? It’s been that way for thirty years
Wind Chill Prologue
PROLOGUEJesus, Mary, and Joseph’s left nut!Eric Kinley woke up blind to the frozen world around him, but not to the grin that had followed him back from sleep. The face leered at him through the darkness behind his eyes. Pale cheeks squelched like maggots as the grin widened. The lipless mouth said nothing, the teeth inside clenching so tight the incisors cracked. Its sunken eyes lusted. The pinpoints of scarlet light at their centers roved up and down Eric’s body as if measuring every inch of him. Weighing him. Slowly, the jaws began to open, stretching until the swirling darkness within shamed the surrounding black. It took a lump of snow falling into Eric’s open mouth to make him realize he was awake. The visage finally receded into the blackness. He sputtered. Only the lights in the depths of the creature’s eyes lingered, intensifying for just a moment before finally flickering out.“Fucking nightmare bullshit!”“You okay, man?”Eric scrabbled at his eyelids, trying to scrap
Wind Chill Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1Emma Rawlins leaned back and watched a blade longer than her body flash across the screen. A gout of blood the tint of cherry Kool-Aid splashed the wall behind the victim. The final girl’s best friend went down clutching her throat. A chortle shot through Emma’s straw, the bubbling of her root beer dubbing what should have been a death rattle.“Shh!”Emma glanced around, ready to lob a handful of popcorn. The theater was too dark to identify the proper target. She spoke just loud enough to be heard over the score.“Bite me.”Attention back on the screen, the movie finally earned its one and only shudder. There was a close-up of the victim’s eyes. They stared through Emma, vacant . . . pleading. A sudden mist drifted into her mind, distorting the image into one far more familiar. Her fingers clutched the armrest as she leaned forward, whispering an apology she’d never gotten to make.“Mom, I . . . ”The effect only lasted until the camera panned back far enough to show
Wind Chill Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2Emma knew she was screwed before she could even flip the light switch. An exhale nearby destroyed the silence she’d hoped to maintain. The stink of tobacco drifted into her nose and dragged a cough from her lungs.“It’s an hour past your curfew, young lady.”Emma rolled her eyes before flicking the switch. Her father watched her from his seat at the kitchen table, the brown eyes inscrutable behind the lenses of his glasses. Smoke drifted up from the Marlboro smoking in his hand.Emma dug in her jacket pocket for her phone before holding it out.“My cell died. The stupid alarm never went off.”“Try again, kiddo.”Emma fought to maintain eye contact with her father. Her finger pressed on the cell’s POWER button, the nail tapping on the dead screen a moment later.“See?”Her father stood, his thin, six-foot frame dwarfing Emma as he approached her and took the device from her hand. She hoped he didn’t see her gorge rise and fall during the appraisal.Buy it. You don’t
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