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Wind Chill
Last Updated : 2021-09-06
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Synopsis
What if you were held captive by your own family? Emma Rawlins has spent the last year a prisoner. The months following her mother's death dragged her father into a paranoid spiral of conspiracy theories and doomsday premonitions. Obsessing him, controlling him, they now whisper the end days are finally at hand. And he doesn’t intend to face them alone. Emma finds herself drugged and dragged to a secluded cabin, the last refuge from a society supposedly due to collapse. Their cabin a snowbound fortress, her every move controlled, but even that isn't enough to weather the end of the world. ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing Everything she knows is out of reach, lost beyond a haze of white. There is no choice but to play her father's game while she plans her escape. But there is a force far colder than the freezing drifts. Ancient, ravenous, it knows no mercy. And it's already had a taste...
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Prologue
Latest chapter
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
Last Updated : 2021-09-06Wind 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
Last Updated : 2021-09-06Wind 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
Last Updated : 2021-09-06Wind 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
Last Updated : 2021-09-06Wind 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 str
Wind Chill Little Red Vest
LITTLE RED VESTKathy Sullivan groaned in tune with her car’s engine.Come on. Oh, come onnnn . . .Her hands tightened around the wheel while she pushed the Lexus to the nearest space on the side of the road. The vehicle barely squeezed in before sputtering its death rattle. Karen’s head banged agains
Wind Chill Bang!
BANG!Richard swayed in time with the piano music seeping up to him through the roof. The vibrations tickled his feet through the soles of handmade Italian shoes, as did the conversations of the diners still inside the restaurant—and their heartbeats. Elongated ears trembled at the sound of the door
Wind Chill The Fear Merchant
THE FEAR MERCHANTThe Jack-o’-lantern on Roy Wallace’s porch was in desperate need of a Botox treatment. A mere week after Halloween, rot was already hard at work on the toothy grin. The corners of its mouth had drooped into a grimace, and the gourd reeked of sweet decay and old smoke. His face twist
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