Short Story Sunday: Ice in Winter [Part Four: The Conclusion]

Simon opened his good eye. He was in some kind of shed. He could see sunlight creeping in under the door, so he knew it was still day time. When he tried to move, he realised he was constrained. 

There was a Perspex tube with holes along the sides keeping him upright in a steel tub. At the base of the tub were white blocks that resembled firelighters. He spotted Audrey. When he tried to call out, he realised he was still gagged.

          “So glad you finally decided to wake up, Mr Malachi.”

          She was wearing rubber gloves that went up to her elbow and her hair was tucked into a net.

          “It’s been a pleasure seeing you again. But I have decided to let bygones be bygones. There is no use in hanging on to the past and the best way for me to move forward is to put these old feelings to bed.”

          He did not allow himself to imagine that she might release him. Audrey pointed a device at him and pressed a button.

          “See you on the other side, Simon.”

          A contraption dropped from the roof and slid against the Perspex tube. It made mechanical noises as it adjusted. A buzzer sounded and Simon watched as holes in the contraption opened. They were perfectly aligned to the holes in the tube. He began to panic and the gag tightened on his mouth. Audrey pressed another button and sharp points emerged at the same time that he felt a chill. It was ice. He was nothing but Audrey’s plaything. The ice jabbed at the holes in the tube.

          “Good, it still works.” She activated another function and the points closed in on Simon. He was trapped in a vice of ice. It made his skin pucker and he thought he might pass out from fear. A ping behind him sounded and he screamed.

“Can you drive any faster, Anton?”

          “I’ll break the law.”

          “We are the law. Step on it.” It was hard to think above the wailing of their siren. The entourage of back-up stayed behind them, even when Lauffett took a wrong turn. They were heading to the countryside. It turned out that Audrey inherited a smallholding from her father and used it as her escape from the city. In fact, it had featured in the recent edition of iNSPiRE magazine as an example of how form and function collaborate to create an interesting space. Neville hated the upbeat tone of magazine articles. They gave the impression that people liked to narrate their lives in positive terms.

          “Take a right here. The GPS says we’re two kilometres from the farm.”

          “You got it.” Lauffett manoeuvred the car with a well-timed handbrake slide.

          “And you were worried about breaking the law back there. Where’d you learn to drift?”

          “Playstation.”

          The saw the farm come into view and, against the backdrop of the sunset, it seemed tranquil.

          “Kill the siren and the lights.” The voice crackled over the radio. Neville flicked the switches on the dashboard. “And slow down. We don’t want her to know we’re coming.”

          The tar road disappeared into gravel, and Lauffett reduced his speed to a crawl. “I didn’t sign up for this. It’s ruining my paint job.”

          “Go round the back.”

          The stones cracked against the side of the car. “Oh, jeez.”

          They saw a shed and heard clanging.

          “Stop the car.” Neville listened. He grabbed the radio. “Ok, guys. I think our target is the shed. We’ll storm it once everyone is in position.”

          “I’ll wait here.”

          Neville looked at his friend’s grey complexion. “Fine. If the pineapple hits the fan, call for back-up and then get the hell out.”

          Lauffett nodded.

          Neville checked the magazine of his pistol. All set. He opened the car door as quietly as possible and signalled for the others to join him as he advanced on the shed. The clanging grew louder. There were muffled cries.

          “Shut up, Simon.”

          He’d know that voice anywhere. He held up his hand and counted down from five. When he was sure the team were in position, he gave the signal and watched as they stampeded towards the shed.

          “Stop! Police! Put your hands up!”

          In the centre of the room was a man. He appeared unconscious and had multiple icicles lodged in his skin. There was the sound of air pressure being released and the icicles retreated, leaving trails of blood in their wake. Clouds of smoke wafted around the man’s feet. Neville instinctively covered his nose and mouth.

          “What is the meaning of this?” Audrey’s voice was a roar.

          “You are under arrest.” Neville’s voice was muffled by his hand. He said it again and watched as Audrey decided to run for it. She got as far as the back door of the main house when she was tackled and cuffed. They had caught her red handed, Neville thought. But if her hands actually were red, he would never know.

          “What the...” Lauffett joined him in the shed.

          “I thought you were waiting in the car.”

          “I was, but I reckoned it would be safe to come out since I saw them hauling Audrey into the back of the van.”

          Neville nodded. “I’ve never seen anything like this.” He watched the icicles, now stationary, dripping as they melted. He followed the drips to the base of the Perspex tube, which was inside a steel tub.

          “What is it?”

          “Dry ice.” Neville turned to the door. “We’d better keep that open.”

          “Why?”

          “It releases carbon dioxide. If we inhale too much, we’ll be dead.”

          “I’ll open those windows as well.”

          Neville was certain that Audrey had come up with the perfect crime. Her murder weapon was ice, which was sharp, but melted away. As it melted onto the dry ice, carbon dioxide was released and it suffocated the victim. That was a dual layer of murder: first by stabbing and frostbite and secondly by gassing. And to think she’d been wasting her time on porcelain figurines and clay whatsits.

          Simon regained consciousness and began to moan through his gag. Neville looked up at him.

          “Don’t worry, Simon. We’re going to get you out of here.”

Crispin was standing at the window in his office. Misery Lake glittered in the sun below him.

          “Just promise me you won’t let your fame go to your head, Neville. Obviously it’s good press for us that you stopped Audrey Valentine and put her behind bars, but we still need to get on with the daily grind of petty theft, vandalism and hijackings.”

          “There’s just one thing, Sarge.”

          “What’s that?”

          “I think we should rename my division. I mean, there wasn’t anything supernatural about what Audrey did. It was simply the marriage of art and science.”

          Crispin laughed. “Well, if that isn’t supernatural, then I don’t know what to tell you.”