The cold air wrapped around the van like a thick blanket, testing the new set of headlights. Adam turned on his wipers and turned up the heat to melt the frost accumulating on the windows.
“It’s a damn mist,” Rico was saying from the backseat, “and it’s freezing outside. Where the hell are we anyways, navigator?”
    Jeff smoothed out the creases on the map in his lap. “Um,” he said, looking out the passenger’s side window. “Um, um, um. Honestly, I’m not sure. I think we’re coming up on a small town called Sommerset any second now. I mean, I think we passed a sign that said it was coming up, at least.”
    Adam was about to retort when he caught the outline of a small building just off the main highway road: a Post Office. He tapped at the gas gauge dramatically to get his two friends’ attentions. “We need to stop for the night. I can’t see shit in this mist, it’s snowing outside, and we’re fresh out of gas.”
    “Yeah well I’m fresh outta money,” Rico said. “If you got the spare cash to bunk us up for the night, then be my guest."
    The clunky old van coughed hard a few times before picking back up and continuing its slide down the slippery concrete road. It seemed to breathe a sigh of relief as the town limits gave way to a well-paved lane of blacktop.
    “Okay, we need a gas station and we need one soon,” Adam stated. His hands gripped the wheel as hard as possible and he could feel the van’s engine sputtering and beginning to stall. Below, the wheels tried in vain to grip the icy blacktop of the main highway road. It was a typical Wisconsin town: bars and shops and everything else tourist and shopping-related on either side of the main road, while the houses remained tucked away in the back streets. Let the travelers gas up and buy what they need to buy and continue on their way without disturbing the townsfolk, Adam thought. No, he couldn’t remember many stops in the past that dealt with friendly small-town inhabitants.
    “I’ve got fifty bucks left,” Jeff said. “The night’s on me; I charged the lift tickets to my credit card, anyways.”
    “Tight,” Rico said. “Very smooth, Jeff my boy. Very smooth.”
    Adam reached one hand into his pocket quickly enough to feel around, then quickly placed it back on the steering wheel as the van began to veer right on the icy road. “I remember having a ten in my pocket after we stopped for lunch. That’ll get us a few gallons of gas, and that should be more or less enough to get us home.”
    The van—sensing that everything was coming together for her passengers—coughed once and died out. Adam slowly guided her to the side of the road. By now, he could see sidewalks in front of the buildings on both sides of the main road. He could make out neon bar signs almost every fifteen feet, the monotony occasionally broken up by a small sign offering a discount on grapes or vegetables. Unfortunately, he couldn’t see much more; the thick mist hid most of the details of the buildings. The van finally rolled to a stop at the start of the second block in the town, in front of what Adam guessed was a bar. Adam stared at the large neon sign advertising Leninkugel’s.
    “Shit,” Rico said. “She finally died.”
    “She’s not dead,” Adam said. “She’s just outta gas. Let’s find a gas station and then we’ll look for a Motel.”
    Jeff thumbed through the list on the back of the map. “It says that this town has fifteen thousand people. That means there’s probably a nice-sized row of buildings along this main road. Probably a few motels and gas stations. We shouldn’t have to walk far.”
    Rico check his watch and sighed heavily. “Yeah, but how many are open at twelve-thirty in the morning?”
    “Plenty,” Adam said. He gritted his teeth. “We don’t need you whining your ass off—that’s just going to make this seem a lot worse than it actually is. We’ll find a gas station and then we’ll find a Motel and then we’ll get some sleep and we’ll be home tomorrow and why the hell are there no street lights in this Goddamn town?”
    Rico climbed up to the front and peered out of the windshield. “Who gives a shit? They wouldn’t do anything in this weather anyways. Hey, is it snowing now?”
    Adam looked at the neon light in the bar window. Small flakes glistened briefly in the night before gliding to the ground. Light snow. And already a foot or snow on the ground from the last winter storm.
    “At least the bastards here know well enough to shovel the sidewalks,” Jeff offered, motioning to the clear sidewalk on the right.
    Adam allowed a small smile and instantly regretted it. His chapped lips cracked and he tasted salty blood on the left corner of his mouth. “Don’t make me smile. It hurts.”
    “Isn’t that a song by Lockjaw?” Rico asked. He opened the side door and Adam immediately felt the cold creep inside the van.
    “I think it is,” Jeff finally answered. “But who gives? All I want to know is where there’s a gas station.”
    Adam crawled to the back of the van, over the back seats and snagged his pant leg on a small wire sticking out of the beaten upholstery. A designer loop ripped, but the jeans remained intact. He continued on his way, pulling apart three small suitcases until he could reach under the back seat. Adam fumbled his hand around until he felt the plastic of the two-gallon gas canister and grabbed it. “Okay,” he said. “Everybody zip up and let’s go.”
    The three stepped into the cold night air. Adam locked the doors with his driver’s key.
    “Why even bother?” Rico asked once they began walking down the salty-wet sidewalk. “You could leave that thing parked in the Inner City of Chicago and no one would touch it. I can’t believe your dad wants two thousand for that pile of shit.”
    “I can’t believe he’s considering buying it,” Jeff chimed in.
    Adam pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket and lit one. “I need a ride. Besides, I think I can work him down to one thousand if I catch him on a good day.” He took a drag from his cigarette and felt a chill run down his spine as the nicotine slipped into his bloodstream and the cold night air ran across the back on his exposed neck.
    Rico breathed into his hands. “Damn, it’s freezing. It’s gotta be below zero. It’s just gotta be.”
    They passed another bar. Then a closed supermarket. The mist grew thicker the further they got into town, so thick now that none of the three could see more than a few inches in front of their face, and the snow had picked up to a light flurry.
    “Fucking aye,” Rico said, stopping. He spat into the ground and the three took a second to watch the spittle sink through the light layer of snow accumulating on the sidewalk. “I say we stop at the next bar and ask where the nearest gas station is. For all we know, they’re all on the other side of the street and we’re missing them!”
    Adam took a drag of his cigarette and relished the warm smoke in his lungs. His face felt numb, and his fingers shook slightly. “Okay, that sounds like a decent plan.”
They walked further, past the supermarket. Another bar came into view just beyond the supermarket parking lot. The market’s lights were out, but the bar seemed to be a flurry of excitement. Two neon Miller signs cut through the mist, and loud music blared from within the building’s thin walls. Just like every other bar they had passed so far.
    “I hear Skid Row playing,” Jeff said. “I think we should definitely stop at this bar. I haven’t heard Skid Row in so long, man.”
    Adam nodded and took one more drag of his cigarette before dropping it to the ground. “Okay let’s do this.”
    They opened the door and walked in, Adam taking the lead. Immediately, he fell back into Rico’s arms as a rush of cold air hit his body.
    “Woah, cowboy!” Rico said. “Not before we date.”
    Adam gathered himself and stepped back into the dank bar. “I kind of expected it to be warm inside.”
The bar room was dark; the only working light came from a stained-glass chandelier hanging over a pool table to the right. Next to that, against the wall, the jukebox played Skid Row. A long bar counter sat against the wall to the left, and empty tables took up most of the space on the far wall, opposite the main door. In fact, there was only one person in the bar, sitting on a stool at the counter in front of the Miller tap, his head resting on the hard wood.
    Red ice crept from the neck of the body, drizzling down the counter and hanging over the edge in the form of an icicle. The exposed skin—from what Adam could see—looked a dark blue, maybe even purple around the right side of the neck.
    “That’s not what I think it is,” Rico said. “That can’t be what I think it is, because I think that it’s a dead guy and I know that it can’t be.”
    Jeff crept closer, as though any noise would disturb the body. He checked the man’s pulse and shook his head. Then he moved around to the other side and his face contorted into a look of horror. “Shit,” he whispered. “Someone slashed his throat. Clean open, ear-to-ear. Shit.”
    “I don’t even want to look,” said Rico. “Oh man this isn’t happening.”
    Adam cleared his throat and swallowed hard. The back of his mouth felt dry; he was coming down with a cold from three days of hard snowboarding. “We need to call someone. There’s gotta be a phone here and there has to be a phonebook.”
    “Hey let’s just ask the bartender!” Rico said. “Oh, wait. There isn’t one. There isn’t a soul in this building! In fact, I have yet to see another sign of life since we got in here. I wouldn’t be surprised if some psycho didn’t go ape shit and wiped out the whole town, just like some fucked-up Dateline TV special!”
    Jeff put a hand on Rico’s shoulder and the pudgy Mexican immediately shook it off. “Get off of me, man!”
    “Just settle down,” Jeff said.
    Rico guffawed. “No, thanks.” He pointed to the dead body. “That’s a dead guy, well preserved. We need to get our asses out of here and we need to do it now. There’s no telling how old it is and whoever did it could be listening to us right now.”
    “If he is, it’s because you’re talking so loud,” Jeff reminded. Rico glared at him and for a second, Adam thought he would actually throw a punch. It would have been foolish: Jeff had at least five inches of height on Rico and twice the strength. Jeff was more or less a jock, though for some reason he felt more at home with outcasts like Adam and Rico than with the rest of the athletes. Adam respected that. Jeff was a good guy.
    “We instantly assume the killer is a ‘he,’” Adam said, changing the subject. “Though it could just as easily be a female.”
    “Who cares, man?” Rico asked. “Honestly? We need to get out of here and we need to do it now.”
Jeff made his way around the bar counter and began rummaging around under the cash register. He pulled out a phone book and began leafing through the pages.
“Let’s just try and fine someone else around here and find out what the hell is going on,” Adam offered.
    “I think he may actually have a point,” Jeff said. He rummaged under the bar and produced a cordless phone. “The phone’s dead. It could just be the weird snowstorm outside, though.”
    “Bullshit,” Rico said. “Whoever did in our little drunk at the counter probably did in the phone line. That means shit is going down here and we’re in the middle of it.”
    “Okay settle down, man.” Adam shakily pulled out another cigarette and lit it. “That’s a worst-case scenario. This could just be a murder, and for all we know the place was cleared out by the police. We could be stepping on evidence as we speak.”
    “There wasn’t any police tape outside!” Rico yelled.
    Adam grabbed his friend by the collar and pulled him close to his own face. “Listen: you need to settle down. Now.” His cigarette bounced up and down on his lower lip when he spoke. “The phone is dead, so we’d better move on. Maybe everything is okay, and until we know different, I’m gonna keep an optimistic attitude and I think you need to do the same. You don’t see Jeff acting like a little sissy, now do you?”
    “That’s because Jeff could probably take whoever’s out there,” Rico whined with a smile.
    Adam grinned, and felt his chapped lips again crack open. “Just settle down, little man. I’m sure we’ll run into someone soon enough.”
    Jeff returned to where the two stood at the entrance of the bar. They listened as the jukebox switched to a classic AC/DC hit.
    “There’s power, at least,” Adam whispered between drags.
    “What do you think, man?” Jeff finally asked, turning to Adam.
    He answered with a shrug. “I was kind of hoping you would play the leader role. I don’t really like responsibility.”
    Jeff shook his head. “We’ll make it a Democracy. Both of us have equal say.”
    “Both of you?” Rico asked. “What about me?”
    “You’ve already cracked,” Jeff stated. “You have no say.”
    Adam took another deep drag of his cigarette. “I guess we should just keep following the sidewalk. See where it takes us.”
    “That’s fine by me,” Jeff said. “This place is starting to freak me out, anyways.”
    They returned outside and continued down the sidewalk. Another half-inch of snow had already made its way to the ground, and Adam regretted exchanging his snowboarding boots for his sneakers. He looked at his friends’ shoes and knew they felt the same way.
    Another bar, and then a road. On the other side of the road, Adam could make out a bright sign with a familiar gas company name in heavy blue letter. Overhead lights could also be seen—barely—through the thick mist.
    “Finally,” Rico stated, quickly breaking into a jog across the road. Adam and Jeff followed close behind. “There’s no way this place is closed,” Rico yelled back at the two. “No way! They wouldn’t leave all their lights on if they were closed!”
    Rico seemed to be right as the three made their way to the first set of unleaded pumps. They were on, each one waiting for the customer to decide whether or not he or she wanted to pay inside or outside.
    “We need to use cash,” Adam said. The other two followed close behind as he continued across the pumping area.
    Inside, it was cold as Hell. Adam walked in first and immediately drew back into Jeff’s hard frame. “Shit oh shit oh shit.”
    A gas station attendant sat on a stool behind the counter, slouched over slightly with a large shard of ice jutting out of one eye. Frozen blood caked the young boy’s face—he couldn’t have been older than seventeen when he died—and the rest of his body was covered with frost. His icy blue skin had to have been frozen almost instantaneously, capturing the exact moment he had died. A half-finished scratch-off lottery ticket sat on the counter, a nickel frozen between the young boy’s finger and thumb. On a slow night, he had bought a lottery ticket to pass the time.
    “Damn,” Jeff whispered, almost into Adam’s ear. He relished his friend’s warm breath against the side of his neck for the brief second before it disappeared.
    “It’s like whoever came in here just caught him completely off guard,” Adam said. He couldn’t turn away from the grisly sight.
    “Shit man I’ve seen enough.” Rico walked closer to the counter and made his way around to where the boy sat. He pushed a button on the cash register screen. “I used to work at a gas station. You gotta authorize a pump before you can get gas from it.”
    Adam stared at his friend, wide-eyed. “Do you not see the dead boy next to you? There’s a killer loose in this town and all you care about is the gas pump?”
    “I’m getting us the Hellout of here!” Rico yelled. “Staring at him ain’t gonna make him more alive!”
    Jeff walked to the counter and reached for the phone cradled next to the cash register. He clicked the receiver a few times with his finger. “This line’s dead, too. I think it’d be safe to assume there’s a phone line down that’s probably affecting the entire town.”
    “Done,” Rico said. “All of the pumps are authorized. Can we please go fill up this can and get the Hell out of here now?”
    “Does nobody care that we’re staring at a dead boy right now?” Adam asked incredulously. “I mean, he’s even our own age, for God’s sake.”
    Jeff grabbed Adam’s shoulders. “Listen man. Sitting around here won’t bring him back. But sitting around here may bring us to him. You get what I’m saying?”
    Adam nodded and followed Jeff outside where they made their way—blindly—to the gas pumps. The mist was much thicker now, and the snow had picked up to a steady flurry. Adam followed Jeff in silence, opening the canister at the nearest pump and filling it up almost mechanically, though he had no memory of ever filling up a gas can before. Rico quickly led the way back to the car, humming quietly to himself.
    The van sat quietly next to the curb, just where the three had left her. Only now, Adam could no longer justify paying two thousand for the vehicle. The van’s hood was open, hoses and pipes and belts strewn about on the ground, some so deep in the snow that only the outline showed on the surface. A fresh, slick layer of ice coated the engine.
    “Oh shit,” Rico said. “Oh shit he was here. He killed your van, Adam. He must have been watching us the whole time. We’re done for! We are all done for now!”
    Adam stared at his van, unbelieving. He had taken his first date in Bessy, learned to drive in the local K-Mart parking lot with her. Feeling remorse for the metal creature seemed neither odd nor out-of-place to him.
    And then a cold feeling crept over Adam. He watched his breath dissipate into the cold mist for a moment, and then looked around slowly. They hadn’t been gone for more than twenty minutes at the most. This had just happened. “He’s still here.”
    Jeff looked at him. “Who is?”
    Adam pointed to what remained of his van. “Whoever did this. Whoever killed the kid and the man. Doesn’t anyone else get the feeling they’re being watched?”
    “I do,” Rico said. “I’ve had it ever since we stepped outta the van. And now it’s a helluva lot worse.”
“We need to find some sort of law enforcement,” Jeff stated, “whether or not the two murders have already been reported. We need to move now before whoever did this comes back to admire his handiwork.”
Adam looked at the broken pieces strewn about. It had been a hunk of junk, but it had been a sturdy hunk of junk. Some of the pieces looked too large to have been ripped out by just one person.
    “Adam, are you listening to me?” Jeff asked. Adam blinked hard and cleared his thoughts. He looked at Jeff. “We need to find help. We need to grab something from inside the van that we can use to defend ourselves with. We’ve got a couple of snowboard wrenches in the back, maybe you’ve got a crowbar or a wrench in the toolbox.”
    “What if the cops think we’re the killers?” Rico asked. “If we start walking around town with crowbars and all sorts of weapons, people are going to think we’re the killers!”
    “What people!” Jeff yelled. “We haven’t seen one Goddamn living soul in this town yet! In fact, I haven’t seen one car, one SUV, or one truck yet, either! For all we know, everyone in this God-forsaken town packed up and left! For all we know, this entire town is a crime scene!”
    “Not yet,” someone from behind them said. “But it could be soon.”
    Adam spun around and found himself staring at a thin chin, a small white goatee lining it. He looked up and saw a similarly thin face connected to the chin, deep blue eyes, and short sideburns extended from his short head of hair. His eyebrows were brown, but the rest of his hair was completely white. He looked somewhat young, and at the same time somewhat old; he could have passed for a twenty year-old and a forty year-old at the same time. He wore a grim expression on his face, which matched his black trench coat.
    Adam fell back into Rico, who fell back into Jeff. The man frowned and raised his arms into the air. One hand clutched at a very expensive-looking briefcase.
    “Relax, boys. Relax.” He set down the briefcase and smoothed out his white suit under the trench coat and Adam caught a glimpse of his frame. The man was thin, yes, but in no means weak.
    “My name is Sam Perkis," the man said. “I hold the law office on the other side of town,” he waved his hand down the street, “and I’m also the full-time mayor of this little town. Elected three years running. It’s a simple job, really; well, it’s been a simple job up until a day ago when this mist rolled in and everything went to Hell.”
    “What’s going on?” Rico asked. His voice cracked at “going” and Adam—despite the situation—had to bite his dry lip to keep from laughing.
    “I don’t exactly know,” the man named Sam Perkis admitted. “The Sheriff came into Roy’s bar last night, just like he always does when he’s making his rounds. Next thing I know—according to the first witness who found me—is the Sheriff pulls a knife to old Lenny Smith’s throat and he cuts him clean open. I would never have believed a good man like the Sheriff could be responsible, until I saw the second murder happen with my own eyes.”
    “The gas station kid?” Rico asked.
    Perkis eyed the Mexican. “Yes. The Sheriff is holding about eight townsfolk hostage in a motel just two blocks up. He says he wants the town’s year-to-date treasury and he wants it now. I’ve just come from the town hall—” he pointed to the large briefcase sitting at his feet “—and have the money.”
    “You’re just going to give him the money?” Jeff asked. “What about calling in for help?”
    “The phone lines are down,” Perkis said. “The winter storm is interfering with cell phone calls. I can’t wait for this weather to pass. I need to get those eight people out of here and I need to do it now before any more lives are lost.”
    “What about my van?” Adam asked. “If the sheriff’s holding those people hostage, then who the hell messed up my ride?”
    “The deputy is helping him for a share of the money, which totals about a hundred thousand. He’s been going on patrols with the town police car, making sure no one stops in the town. I don’t understand it all, myself. I don’t understand why two men who are so close to so many people in this town would do what they are doing. Maybe this mist has something to do with it.” He exhaled deeply and Adam was surprised to feel a cold breeze across his face.
    “We’ve been saying just how weird this mist is,” Rico said. “It just ain’t right.”
    The man smiled, his dimples wrinkling on the sides of his pale face. “I could use your help. The Sheriff won’t let me near the motel alone; he’s fired at me twice when I’ve tried to negotiate. He wants someone else to do it, and I’ve been trying to find anyone. The entire town is gone. I have no idea where any of them went. You three are the only souls I’ve seen since yesterday.”
    “What makes you think he won’t shoot us?” Adam asked.
    “Because he wants this money more than anything,” Perkis stated. “He won’t let the hostages go until he gets it. I could try and find a working car, but I’m afraid if I left to find help, the Sheriff might do something drastic. All we need to do is deliver this money, and I’m only asking. I won’t force you to play hero.”
    “We’ll do it,” Jeff said, “provided you get us a ride out of here back to our home town tonight.”
    Sam Perkis flashed a large smile. His teeth were a blinding white. “And where do you all live?”
    “We’re all from Milwaukee,” Jeff said. “South side, really.”
    “I can very easily arrange that,” Jack said. “It’s no problem at all. I’m sure any one of the gracious hostages left will take you home once this entire situation is over.”
    “Provided we pull it off,” Rico said doubtfully.
    They were silent a moment, a cool breeze picking up and circulating the mist slightly. The snowfall had again calmed down; it could only be seen near the neon Leininkugel’s sign, a few specks of snow occasionally lit up by the purple rays.
    Finally, Perkis spoke up: “All right. Then it’s settled. I’ll take us to the Motel.”
    He led the three down the sidewalk, towards the south end of the town. They passed the gas station, and Adam took the time to set the red gas canister next to the pumps. He placed his hand back into his pocket and felt warm needles prick across the previously exposed skin. The four walked further down the main road, past more bars, past more small grocery and liquor stores. Through it all, Rico refused to stay quiet.
    “I think there’s a law in Wisconsin,” he was saying to no one in particular, “about how you gotta have a certain number of bars per capita in every town. I know Eau Claire has the largest bars per capita in the entire nation. Is that true , Mister Perkis?”
    Adam looked to the mayor, who stayed a few steps ahead of them. “I’m sure I don’t know,” the man finally answered.
    “This is great,” Rico said. “We’re gonna get outta here tonight! We won’t have to waste any cash on gas or anything, and all we gotta do is deliver this money to that crazy mutherfucker holed-up in the Motel!” He blew hard into his hands and rubbed them. “The Sheriff and his dep-you-tay will get the Hell outta here and we’ll go home.”
    “This is it,” Perkis stated. “Coming up here on the right. Just past this parking lot.”
    Adam looked ahead, surprised to see the mist had cleared away slightly. The neon Motel sign became visible after a few more steps, as well as the building’s outline and a few bright lights coming from the front of the building, most likely the lobby. There were a few cars parked in the parking lot.
    Adam found himself breathing as rarely as he could, aware that the mist surrounding them might be more than meets the eye. He looked over at Jeff, who looked to be following suit.
    “Okay,” the mayor said. “The Sheriff won’t fire if someone comes with me. I can guarantee that much. I will go with this young man,” he motioned to Rico and handed him the briefcase, “and you two can stay here out of sight. With any luck, we’ll exchange the briefcase and the Sheriff and Deputy will leave immediately.”
    “I’m coming with,” Jeff said. Sam Perkis and Rico looked at him. “I’m not just standing here while my good friend goes and risks his life. I’m coming with.”
    “I think I should too,” said Adam. “I mean, the chances of him shooting such a large group seems slim to none. I would rather help out than just stand around here.”
    The mayor seemed to ponder the idea, nodding thoughtfully. “Okay, we will all go together.”
    They walked slowly towards the motel. Adam felt his legs turn to jelly when a shadow darted behind the drapes. He needed a cigarette to calm his nerves, but didn’t dare pull his hands out of his pocket, just in case the Sheriff was the nervous type.
    God, it was cold. The mist now swirled around the motel. The snow remained light, but the small flakes almost seemed warm when they occasionally landed on Adam’s numb skin. He wondered if he had any frostbite yet; his face and hands were numb to the bone. Snot ran out of his nose, down to his upper lip, and he found himself breathing through his mouth.
    Finally, after what felt like and eternity, they stood at the glass door that read, “lobby.” It was difficult to see through the thick frost; Adam couldn’t even see into the dimly-lit room. All of the windows were frosted over, but Adam could see someone looking at them from behind a curtain in one of the windows left of the door. The figure’s mouth moved rapidly, yelling something at Adam.
    “Yelling something,” Adam repeated aloud. He made to turn to Jeff, but a very strong hand rested on his shoulder and forced him forward.
    “Don’t move,” a cold voice whispered. “Don’t breathe. Don’t scream. Stand still. All three of you.”
    A pale hand reached over Adam’s shoulder and knocked lightly on the door. Adam turned his head a fraction of a degree to catch a glimpse of the man, who was no longer much of a man at all. Frost and ice crusted the mayor’s white hair. His pupils were gone, replaced by a deafening blackness surrounding the eye sockets, the complete opposite of his cold white skin. The nails on the tips of his fingers were sharp, encrusted with more ice.
    None of them moved. The door opened, and the Sheriff stood in the doorway. He was nothing like what Adam had imagined; he looked warm, inviting, with a friendly mustache and a conservative short haircut. He looked overweight, wearing a one-size-too-small sheriff’s uniform.
    “You monster,” the Sheriff stated. He was cradling a twelve-gauge shotgun in his arms. “We’re not enough then, that you gotta bring in a few strangers?”
    “They’re merely an added bonus,” the mayor whispered in his cold voice. It sounded nothing like when he had spoken to the three earlier in the evening. Everything warm about the man had since been replaced by an icy opposite. “A bargaining chip.” The briefcase flew past Adam and landed in front of the sheriff. “Open it.”
    “Hell no, Frost,” the Sheriff said. “We’re through playing your little mind games. We’re fed up with it. No more.”
    “You will open it now, Sheriff.” Adam felt the mayor lay a cold hand on his shoulder. “Or these boys will die in front of your eyes.”
    The Sheriff slowly reached his hand down and unlatched the cover, keeping his eyes just over Adam’s right shoulder. Adam could feel the warmth of the room just two feet away, inviting him in.
    The Sheriff opened the briefcase, nodded solemnly, and shut it hard. “Like I said before. You’re a monster, Frost.”
    “Your deputy was lucky to have died so quickly,” Frost whispered. “Everyone else in there will die much, much slower. So will these three boys, if you don’t give me five more people. It’s all I need. Five more people to satisfy my hunger and I’ll be gone. Give me your old, your feeble, your useless. The rest of you will all get on with your lives and you’ll forget I was ever here.”
    “You’ve already taken so many,” the Sheriff said. “I don’t trust you further than I can spit, you demon.” He raised his shotgun. “Now I swear: you let these boys go now.”
    And then Rico was screaming, high-pitched and horrible to the point that it would have been funny had Adam heard it on TV. Only when Adam looked right, he could see Rico’s screams validated; one of Jack’s hands dug deep into the Mexican’s back, two very red and very sharp icicles protruding from the young man’s chest.
    “I want four more now,” Frost hissed through clenched teeth as he raised Rico a full foot in the air to shield himself from the sheriff’s shotgun. “I need four more. You will give them to me, or everyone will die.” Rico stopped screaming, and Adam watched as the creature put an icy hand on the pudgy twenty year-old’s head. There was an extreme rush of heat, so hot that beads of sweat formed on Adam’s head in the split second it existed. Frost’s hand grew pink for a moment, matching Adam’s own skin color, and a look of pure pleasure washed over the icy creature’s face.
    “Get in here!” the Sheriff yelled. He grabbed Jeff and Adam by the collars of their jackets and quickly pulled them inside before slamming the door and bolting it shut.
    Adam wanted to ask what the hell just happened. He wanted to call out for his friend, because surely Rico wasn’t dead. Surely what had all happened had been some hallucination, maybe due to the odd mist. But those thoughts were at the edge of Adam’s mind. Adam could only think of the heat that he had felt outside for a brief moment, a perfect temperature at a perfect humidity that felt better than any drug he had ever tried.
    “What the Hell just happened?” Jeff asked, putting a heavy hand on Adam’s shoulder.
    Adam shook his head and scanned the room. There were at least thirty people in the lobby, most of them huddled around a crafty fireplace on the far wall. He could see another doorway next to the front desk covered by a large couch propped upright so that only the handle of the door could be seen. A few people stood behind the service counter, and a few more sat at a small table on the opposite wall. Adam could imagine skiers sitting at the table in the morning to drink a quick cup of coffee before hitting the ski hills peppering the area.
    “Frost,” someone in the group finally answered.
    The Sheriff nodded. “Jack Frost, apparently. Signed in here at the Motel two days ago, just in time for a snowfall to hit. Then a thick mist rolled in outta nowhere. Next thing I know, I have six hundred missing people. Everyone’s gone, and those who aren’t are reporting all sorts of mysterious occurrences. There’s a report of a murder, then another. Then more.”
    “Rico,” Adam whispered. "He said his name was Sam Perkis."
    The Sheriff continued. “I got here and found these people. It wasn’t long before Frost comes ‘a knocking. He tells us he’ll stop everything if three people come with him. Three people decide to play hero, against my wishes. Then he comes back and wants five more. We try to stop him, and Deputy Paul tries to chase after him in the storm. This was only a few hours ago.” He took a deep breath and cast a glance at the briefcase. “Then he comes back with you guys as hostages. He still wants more, but I ain’t letting anyone else go.”
    “What for?” Jeff asked. “What does he need them for?”
    “Your guess is as good as mine. You saw what he did to your friend. He gets something out of it, I don’t know what exactly. I don’t really care what he is or what he wants. I just want him out of my town.” He looked around the room, frowning at all the weary faces. “We all do.”
    “This is in our head, Jeff,” Adam droned. “It’s the mist. We’re hallucinating. Everyone is. We need to find Rico. He’s probably cold as hell out there.” He made for the door, but the Sheriff grabbed him mid-stride.
    “Don’t you get it, boy? This Jack Frost guy is the mist. He can control it, he can disappear in it. I saw it with my own two eyes. It’s how he travels. The only reason he isn’t in here right now is because of the heat. Once our reserve generator runs out of juice, he’ll creep in here and then we’re all done for.”
    “Why not give him the five, then?” Jeff asked. “I’m not trying to sound cruel, but it would seem five is better than thirty.”
    The Sheriff let go of Adam and passed him along to a man dressed in a black suite with a white collar. The man helped Adam to the table, where a woman gladly gave up her seat to let him sit.
    “Frost is a liar,” the Sheriff stated. “I don’t believe him for a second, and the next clean shot I get, I’m going to take it. We have four guns between us all. Right now, we’re trying to decide the best way to attack him. We have to.”
    Adam turned his attention away from the Sheriff. He looked instead at the elderly man in black. “You’re a priest, then?”
    The man nodded. “A pastor, actually. Lutheran. How are you feeling?”
    Adam licked his dry lips. “Warm. It feels good.”
    The man smiled. “Sit for a while. I’ll see if I can’t get you something warm to drink. We might have a little coffee left.”
    He left and quickly returned with a steaming cup of black liquid. “Here. Drink up.”
    Adam did. Slowly at first, then more quickly once his throat got used to the heat. It tasted bitter, but felt so good in his stomach that he hardly noticed. “Thanks,” he finally managed.
    “You’ve been through a lot,” the Pastor said. “We all have. The best thing you can do is sit still and calm your nerves.”
    Adam set the cup on the table and focused instead on the Sheriff, who was talking to two other men on the other side of the room. Jeff came over and put a hand on Adam’s shoulder. “You all right?” he asked.
    Adam nodded. “What are they talking about over there?”
    Jeff looked in the Sheriff’s direction. “They want to go out and find Frost. They want to try and kill him.”
    “Sounds insane.”
    “Everything I’ve heard so far tonight has sounded insane.”
    “This morning,” Adam corrected him.
    “What?”
    “It’s been ‘morning’ for almost two hours now,” Adam said.
    Jeff shook his head. “Okay. The point is that we’re trapped here like rats while that thing outside bides his time. My dad is a whiz at the auto shop when it comes to motors, Adam. I know a thing or two about them, and I know emergency generators are only built to last a dozen hours at the most. They’ve been using it for almost ten.”
    “Are you actually buying all this?” Adam asked. “Frost? Rico dead? There has to be some kind of realistic explanation for it all.”
    “There isn’t,” Jeff said flatly. “Shit, Adam. I can’t say that all of this makes sense; but it’s real, and in a few short hours that generator is going to run out of fuel. And then we’ll have no heat. Then, it doesn’t matter if we’re hallucinating, because we’ll freeze to death either way.”
    “I wish I hadn’t put down that gas can,” Adam said.
    Jeff looked at him. “Generators run on unleaded gas. Sheriff!” The Sheriff glanced back and slowly made his way over. “Sheriff, I think we can buy you some time.”
    “How so?” he asked, only mildly curious.
    “I have a full gas can,” Adam said. “It’s sitting on the corner sidewalk just a block down, right next to the gas station. Two gallons.”
    “That could run a standard generator for a couple extra hours,” Jeff added. “The can’s already filled-up. All we need to do is run out there and get it.”
    “Woah, son.” The Sheriff raised his hands in protest. “I’m not sending two kids out there to get killed.”
    “Have you tried to recover gas yet on your own?” Jeff asked.
    The Sheriff shook his head. “Too risky.”
    “Let me go,” Adam offered. “I remember exactly where I put it. I set it right next to the dumpster just off of the sidewalk. I can run there and back in a few seconds and he won’t even notice me.”
    “No let me,” Jeff said, turning to Adam. “I can run faster than you. I know you don’t want to do this.”
    “You don’t know where it is,” Adam said. “And I’ve got a good visual memory. I can picture right where I left it off.”
    “Then tell me where it is,” Jeff urged.
    “Don’t you get it?” The Sheriff asked. “Don’t you get any of this? He will notice you. He’ll notice you the second you step into that mist. He’ll feel you and he’ll come for you. You are not going out there alone. No one will.” He spoke the last part loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.
    “You need that gas,” Jeff said.
    Sheriff looked at the two. “I don’t want to lose anyone else while I’m in charge. I don’t think I could handle any more deaths. Carl! Sam! Come here for a second!” Two rather bulky men dressed in heavy camouflage coats stepped over from the desk. Each of them carried a somewhat intimidating hunting rifle. The Sheriff rested a hand on each of them. “Boys, I knew your fathers. I drank with ‘em when I was off-duty on Friday nights, and not second has gone by since this all went down that I don’t wonder what happened to them. And I sure as Hell am not going to ask you two to put your lives on the line for anything. But this boy here says he knows where there’s a full gas can, and God knows we need it.”
    The two nodded. The larger, scruffier one spoke up: “Sheriff, I think I can speak for Sam when I say we’re perfectly ready to do anything we can to get through this.”
    The Sheriff nodded. He looked at Adam. “Let these men stay on either side of you at all times.” He turned back to the two men. “If you see a clear shot, you take it. I don’t care what this bastard thinks he is, he’s gotta be flesh and blood. But we need that gas so we can take some more time to figure out how to get through this. I trust you boys.”
    Adam nodded and looked at Jeff.
    “Just get back here quick, man,” Jeff said quietly. Adam nodded.
    “You ready?” The man named Sam asked. He clutched his rifle with two pressure-white hands.
    Adam zipped up his jacket as far as it could go and breathed warm air into his hands. “Yeah.”
    “There and back, boys,” the Sheriff ordered. “Just there and back.”
    Sam opened the door and the three quickly left the room. The cold mist outside immediately withdrew from the emanating heat. Adam could feel the mist watching and wanted more than anything to call the entire thing off. But it was too late now; the other two men were already a few paces ahead, dangerously close to being swallowed by the mist entirely and leaving Adam alone at the front of the motel.
    “We need to walk quick,” Sam said once Adam caught up. He put an arm on Adam’s back to keep him in pace. “You sure it’s where you say it is?”
    “I’m positive,” Adam said. “It’s right—”
    The skinnier man, Carl, quickly put a gloved hand over Adam’s mouth. “Don’t even say it. Didn’t you hear the sheriff? He was right; this mist is a part of that bastard. It’s his eyes, ears, and nose. Don’t even say it. Just lead us to it as quick as possible.”
    Adam nodded and they remained silent as they continued down the sidewalk, though there was no sign of Frost anywhere. Surely, the creature could feel them walking through its vapor body. Surely, it could hear their footsteps crunching on the hard snow in the silent night.
    The gas station’s large sign slowly began to appear in the thick mist ahead. It looked old and the plastic was broken in some places, probably from rocks thrown by reckless teens who had nothing better to do on their Friday nights. The pumps looked relatively new, and stood out of place with the rest of the run-down station.
    “There,” Adam said, pointing to a small red can just a few feet away from the dumpster, near the unleaded pumps. He sprinted over to it and immediately regretted doing so; the cold misty air crept into his hard-working lungs and he doubled over, coughing and gagging as the icy haze tickled the insides of his lungs.
    Sam ran over and helped Adam as he slowly got to his feet, the gas can firmly in one numb hand.
    A cold wind blew past them.
    “Well, this is a surprise,” an icy voice whispered. Adam looked up to see Frost’s frame securely blocking their route home. The mist seemed to envelope him like a blanket, so that only shadows of his figure could be seen. His fingers no longer represented those of a normal man. What looked like icicles hung from the tips so they looked more like the claws of some beast.
    “Fire at that son of a bitch!” Sam yelled. He raised his gun at the same time as Carl and they fired three shots apiece at the ghostly visage. One shot seemed to graze its arm, but the figure quickly disappeared again into the night.
    Adam knelt, motionless between the two men, clutching the gas can so hard that he couldn’t even feel how cold his fingers were. His ears were ringing, and for a moment he didn’t even hear Carl screaming. It wasn’t until a refreshingly warm drop of blood graced Adam’s face that he looked up and saw three icy talons digging into Carl’s skull. Adam wanted to scream, but felt his throat constricted by the cold. He cursed himself for it, but the warm blood splashing across his face felt pleasurable.
    “Get outta here, kid!” Sam said, giving Adam a push. “They need that gas more than they need us! Go!”
    Adam took off and felt his lungs immediately slam shut as the cold mist flooded the once warm air pockets. Still he ran, heedless of the screams and gunshots behind him.
    Then there was silence. Adam slowed down once the motel’s outline came into view. The wind whispered into Adam’s ears, growing louder and louder until he could distinguish words:
    “Two more,” it said. “Bring me two more people and I’m done. I need their body heat. I need it to stave off the very cold I produce. It’s my own energy source, and my bane. It hurts, Adam. I’m always in pain; the warmth is the only thing that holds it off. Once I have enough, I won’t have to kill again for a long time.”
    Adam slowed down slightly. He was only twenty feet away now.
    “You know what I’m talking about,” the voice whispered. “You felt it when I took your friend. You wanted to save him and at the same time, you wanted to feel that perfect heat again. You know why I do this.”
    He was only ten feet away now. He could see more of the motel now, the lights shining in the windows and the canopy over the lobby door.
    “Drop the can, Adam. Drop it and let me into the motel. I’ll take two and I’ll be gone.”
    Adam tightened his grip on the can, and he continued walking. He reached the door and turned the handle, slowly opening it. Something sharp and ice-cold pierced his back in four separate places and he opened the door in time to see the mist quickly creep in, the generator’s energy depleted and the heat within barely giving any struggle to its icy enemy. Still, the mist seemed to writhe in pain as it moved through the lukewarm room, engulfing the frightened people within.
    The Sheriff, tried to shoot over Adam’s shoulder, hitting Adam’s arm in the process. Adam watched Jeff to his knees as he inhaled the mist and his skin turned a pale blue. The pastor who had been kind enough to find Adam a cup of coffee, whispered a quick prayer before he too fell over.
Adam threw the gas can to the Sheriff and watched the Sheriff attempt to clutch the red canister with two frozen hands, the canister hitting the ground and rolling a few feet before stopping, its contents secured within the red plastic. The Sheriff clutched his neck and dropped to the ground as the mist enveloped his lifeless frame.
    A tear rolled down Adam’s cheek. It froze, instantly.