Rich Hawkins [Hawkins - The Cold

The Cold by Rich Hawkins

First published in 2019 by

Horrific Tales Publishing

http://www.horrifictales.co.uk

Copyright 2019 Rich Hawkins

http://www.horrifictales.co.uk

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The moral right of Rich Hawkins to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organisations, places and events are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

THE COLD

Rich Hawkins

throw roses into the abyss and say: here is my thanks to the monster who didnt succeed in swallowing me alive.

- Friedrich Nietzsche

PROLOGUE

Two men found Seth in a crumpled heap on his back, half-buried in a snow drift.

Shivering and confused, each breath a wheezing gasp from sore lungs, he looked up at the men and muttered incoherently. The pain in his bones, in his bruised and impact-softened limbs, muddled his thoughts. Encrusted blood around his left eye, from a shallow gash on his forehead, clouded his vision. His mouth tasted of metal and one of his molars was cracked. He remembered crawling from the wreck of the train to this spot near a blackened and snow-burdened tree. He smelled oil, diesel, and burnt electrics.

We thought you were dead, said one of the men. He was chubby and pink-cheeked, squinting from one puffy and bruised eye. A Batman t-shirt was visible past the front opening of his thick coat. He grimaced as the wind swept flecks of snow at his face.

Only half-dead, by the looks of him, said the other man, scratching his beard and frowning. He looked down at Seth. Anything broken?

I dont think so, Seth said.

Are you all right? the chubby man asked.

Looks fucked, the other man said.

Im okay, I think, Seth said, wincing at the low ringing in his ears as he sat up. Red bells hammered inside his head. He rubbed his aching jaw. With one hand he scraped the dried blood from around his eye then looked into the middle distance, where the trains three carriages lay on their sides in the field adjacent to the tracks. The train had obliterated several trees and cut large gouges into the snow-covered earth. Shards of shattered glass gleamed on the ground amongst scraps of broken plastic, splintered wood and torn metal. The middle of the front carriage had been ripped open.

Pale fog reduced visibility to less than forty yards in all directions.

And then there were the crumpled bodies around the wreckage of the train, the falling snow slowly softening their outlines.

Jesus Christ. Seth looked away from the devastation. Tears welled in his eyes as he stared at his trembling hands. A sob caught in his throat.

Were you with anybody? one of the men said. Seth was barely listening, but he shook his head, dropping his hands to his lap as he felt the world lurch away from him. His harsh breathing was the only sound as the snow fell against his eyes and his sore face.

The men pulled him up. He stood on watery legs and murmured his gratitude to the two men as they helped him along the ground. They passed the indistinct form of a woman lying mostly sunken in a snowdrift. Her arms were twisted the wrong way and the stiffened fingers of one hand poked from the snow like upturned roots. Before he turned away, stepping over a raggedy, half-frozen teddy bear belly-up on the ground, Seth noticed a wedding ring on her finger.

The men brought him under the bough of a wind-lashed oak. Injured people sat or crouched, huddled in blankets, nursing broken limbs, lacerations, concussions. A man sat against a pile of suitcases, bandages wrapped around his head, moaning softly to himself. A woman lay on her back upon a blanket, eyes fluttering, with one side of her face red and exposed. Beside her a young boy, with his left leg gone below the knee the stump wrapped untidily in gauze and strips of cloth passed in and out of consciousness, his mouth moving soundlessly.

Several other people milled about or tended to the wounded with meagre supplies from a first aid kit. They paid little attention to Seth. Their faces were slack with shock, their movements meandering and aimless.

At least youll be out of the snow, said the bearded man, cringing against a gust of wind and icy flecks.

Seth sat against the base of the trunk and winced as the muscles in his legs twitched and cramped. The cold slowed the blood in his veins, muddied his thoughts, and numbed his limbs.

A young woman with pale blonde hair gave him a coat to use as a blanket. She smiled sadly and, before Seth could thank her, she moved away to check on someone else. He looked out from under the tree and watched the snow fall and bustle. The sky was without definition, waxen and unending.

The bearded man crouched near Seth. It shouldnt be snowing. Its summer. This shouldnt be happening.

It came out of nowhere, the chubby man said, sniffling and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. He folded his arms and shifted on his feet, trying to stay warm. Conditions will only worsen once it gets dark. The temperature will drop.

The bearded man took a small bottle of water from his coat pocket and handed it to Seth. Whats your name?

Seth Murphy. He drank several sips then returned the bottle.

Im Miles.

My names Andy, said the chubby man.

Thank you for helping me, Seth said. The muscles of his face were slack, as though theyd been loosened by the force of the crash. I cant thank you enough.

Miles gestured to the other people around them. Were the only survivors. Fourteen of us.

Seth said nothing. He felt like crying and laughing at the same time, but he was capable of neither.

Miles looked towards the train tracks. Its been over an hour since the crash. The emergency services should have arrived by now. This place should be teeming with ambulances and police.

The snow might have blocked the roads and the railway line, Andy said. We cant even get a phone signal out here, to phone 999. We just need to wait. It must be the weather.

Of course its the weather, Miles said. Its snowing in fucking summer.

Seth fumbled in his pockets and took out his smartphone. He swiped his thumb across the screen, trying to unlock it, but hed already noticed the cracks and shattered bits of metal and plastic, and knew it was a hopeless and broken thing.

He dropped the phone on the ground and left it there.

Do you remember what happened? Miles asked Seth. Did you see what caused us to crash?

He tried to recall the bits and pieces drifting in his mind. Little fragments of the time just before the train left the tracks.

I fell asleep, and when I woke up, I saw the snow outside the windows. People were talking about the snow. Then, Im not sure what happened. I cant remember. But the memory was there. The image flooded his system with adrenaline and anxiety.