The Cold Part One: "Death not do us part"
The Cold Part One
Death do not let us part
“The Cold” Part One:
fiction by:
Cerey E Runyon Copyright 2006
The shadows from a deep and haunted past now came to him; it was coming for him, ― creeping into. Filtering its way through―, this darkness that filled with the terrifying embrace of the chilling cold, left him naked―, un protected. The shadows were filled with livid faces, gray, unearthly and yet not unlike the darkness, ―it came with the same, one chilling intent.
The darkness and the cold came in through the open window together they mixed, swirled, entangled, and then consumed by the icy wind.
It came to him―,
It came for him―
He called for the darkness to come...a long time ago,― years ago, ― ages ago... Now, finally it has come to this
... and when it came, it came for one reason, and one reason only;
it came to devourer, ― it came to destroy, and then, when all, was consumed, the insipid darkness hungered, for more, ― it wanted all of him, it would lay to waste, not only to his soul, It would devour all. The appetite of the darkness was insatiable, it knew no fulfillment
"Please do not leave." he pathetically pleads as he looks into the thick , black void, the blackness of the abyss overtakes him...and now he cannot even utter one word,
Pain―Wrecks him, "The climb” was long, tedious and arduous yet, for a moment he manages to get the words out, again;
“Don’t leave, please don't leave."
There is a place, between seven thousand and twelve thousand feet above the sea where one can hear the "trades"; their mighty sound cannot be avoided. The "Trades" are a powerful and dynamic wind which then begins to radiate out, from behind the threatening dark mountain at his back...he moves quick, making haste―, hurling to protect her before it is too late. The wind is harsh, brutal, and cold. The air becomes thick, as the faintest smell of ozone breeches the holiness of this place. The sound of the wind reverberating laboriously loud from the enormous mass of the mountain.
From this great height it echo's ominously, bouncing off the Himalayas from the ionosphere...From the corner of his left eye, just beyond the peripheral of his vision he sees the mighty flying Albatross duck behind the brewing monster; the leviathan which awaits him will bring him to the end of his destiny.
He turns his head, to where she was standing, but she no longer there, she no longer awaits him― She has long since left―, left him there alone to die. He does not brood over his loss― even though that by saving her he too would have been saved...No, he does not contemplate the impending doom which awaits him, he is only too happy that she is safe...
"Odd" he thinks to himself.
"She was wearing only a white silk dress, how could this be?"
Had he noticed her leave, he might have seen the path. Had he seen the path, he might have saved himself, but now it was too late, too late for him to make the amends and the ambition as well as, the desire to build the shelter. To build the shelter deep within the ice packed snow― the shelter he needed to survive. To then live to tell the tale, but it is too late for this now. The approaching onslaught of minus sixty below zero, the high winds bringing the chill factor down to fatal numbers.
He suddenly and unexpectedly realizes (even though this is why he came here) that he will die here, that he would die here, alone, ― alone, without her, and without "them”.
It was only then that it finally dawned upon him that, Sophie had died at the hospice, not six months prior. "Yes, what did the Doctor said?" stage four ovarian cancers... "The pills she had been taking were flooding her liver with impossible pathogens of which her Liver could not fight. Her liver simply pumped out more antigens, thus making her condition even more fatal. This approach was drastic
Brian seriously blamed himself. He had wanted a family, a child and he had persuaded her to take the drugs, the fertility drugs that they had bought in Mexico, the drugs that were made in the Ukraine, the very same ones they bought on the "Black Market" to make her able to give him children. And this desire, this thoughtless act of love, struck her down in the prime of her life, striking her in that most sacred of places in the female body "The holy of holies" as Brian had always referred to that place in a woman's body. Often he would awaken in the middle of the night with his head rested there. His head lying gently upon her stomach. Just close enough where he could embrace the scent of her, the scent of his woman.
At first, Sophie had not wanted any part of the drugs, but her love for him was strong, and she would do anything for Brian, especially this, she had wanted children as well. Nevertheless, Sophie had wanted children for different reasons. She could just as easily be comfortable with adopting. However Brian's need to have children, especially a boy was different...
She felt is pain; She had witnessed the nightmares for too many years.
She felt his pain, but mostly she sensed the guilt that he had suffered from. from the consequences of that night so many years ago―, before she knew him
The shame that the accident had embossed upon his soul from, the accident that had happened so many years earlier.
The accident that had taken his two Brothers and Crystal, his little Sister...He was thirteen when it happened, an entire genetic code wiped out in a millisecond, a head on collision with a drunken driver on route 94 out of Connecticut....
In the end, Brian was the only survivor, his Father lived briefly after the fatal impact, just long enough to drag Brian out, from beneath, the overturned car, and he removed Brian first, removing him to safety saving him from the flames. The explosion happened just moments later, after his Father, had returned to the Ford S.U.V. to save Alice, the "old man's" wife. The explosion was so loud that it had burst Brian's left eardrum.
The other children were all dead, and they died instantly from the impact of the old Chevy Van, the van that was hauling the drugs and illegal's across the border, save for Brian and his Mother. Brian's Mother and Father were consumed by the flames from the fire, after the explosions...Twenty four years has passed and he still hears their screams nightly.
Brian came from a long line of American Indian ancestry (The Tall Tree Klan) and he was the last male child left from this Klan...If he could not have a male descendent then the Klan would perish, his particular stain of DNA would be lost. For some reason Brian felt a tremendous weight upon his shoulders throughout his life for this seemingly trivial need. However, He was Indian raised by his Grandfather...and "the Blood" did seem to run deep within him. He felt the calling of his forefathers.
