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Lost in a Storm: Part 3

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This is the third and final part of this story. I hope that you’ve enjoyed reading it so far.

Links to the first two parts:

Part 1 is here.

Part 2 is here.

“This is Ghost 232; I see the guy. Hey, you don’t need to be so upset. Look,  I found him again half a mile from the crate. He was in the road and someone picked him up.”

He was quiet for a minute to allow the man on the other end to start muttering again.

“Calm down. I can see the truck ahead. I’m right behind it. My GPS says that there’s a town farther down the road. I’ll catch up to him there and everything will be on track again, alright? Next time drop them somewhere more convenient.”

He hung up before a reply could come through and approached his snowmobile. It was mostly white, and would have blended in with the snow if not for a dark black padded seat. He eased himself into the seat and tucked his boots under the stirrups. The stranger reached back and grabbed the helmet which rested between his shoulders and pulled it over his head.

His eyes were focused on the rear lights of the truck as it moved down the snow-covered road. The engine purred quietly as it started, and within a few seconds he was rushing through a length of deep snow that ran parallel to the road. The machine was notably quiet and remained undetected.

Inside of the truck, the passenger was continuously questioned as to what happened before his arrival in the wilderness. The ride went on for almost an hour before the countless trees faded into scarce buildings. Isolated cabins marked the sides of roads, and as large signs indicated, the distance to town was decreasing.

“Here we are,” the trucker said as they pulled into a rest stop. A large bright sign stood up at the edge of the road, and a row of other trucks mingled in the parking lot. Every window was lit with a warm glow, and another person was watching their approach from the motel’s porch.

As they exited the truck and moved toward the front doors, the man noticed a snowmobile tucked into a corner. Shadows from a sub-roof nearly hid it in darkness.

After a few minutes, the man had been escorted inside. The trucker was generous and helped him buy a room for the night. The lobby was large and fairly empty for the number of vehicles outside. He glanced around and saw a small crowd gathered at the bar.

“Big game tonight or something,” the receptionist commented idly.

“I’ve been here a few times. I’ll see if I can get you a ride to Anchorage. Try to sleep tonight, get warm, and let me know if I can do anything else for you. I’ll be in my truck.”

“You’re too kind, even to a total stranger.”

“I don’t usually find people sleeping in the road. You still didn’t tell me who you are.”

The man froze for a few seconds and stared the trucker in his eyes. He quickly glanced through the window at the frozen parking lot, then over to the receptionist who was distracted by a book. She seemed bored and only looked up when there was a noise from the bar.

“John,” he said finally. He tried to hold a straight face, and noted the trucker’s skeptical expression before continuing. “Sorry, my mind is still a bit slow. I’m not used to this climate.”

“You shouldn’t go missing during the winter months then,” the trucker suggested. “If you need to, call me Travis.”

“Could I get a meal or something?”

“Yeah, sure. Just head in the bar and they’ll fix you right up,” she said with another glance up from the pages.

“I might join you,” the trucker added. “I’ve been driving all day.”

 

Outside, the Ghost watched their movements through a window. As he watched, the sound of other people trudging across the parking lot became audible. He ducked into a shadow and waited for the two newcomers to pass into the lobby. In addition to their two sets of tracks, they dragged a third person along with them. The third man’s shoes scraped along the asphalt and left two small dips in the falling snow.

 

Inside, John and the trucker sat at a small table and watched a large wall-mounted television. A radio or jukebox played somewhere in the room but was too quiet to be clearly understood. The voices of other people drowned it out.

John stared blankly at his drink and tried to block out his surroundings. He silently considered the best way home, and what he would do upon returning. Some thoughts completely rejected the idea of returning to New York. He could hear the trucker’s voice in the back of his mind but was too deep in thought to listen or respond. The inner silence of his thoughts was soon broken by a distressed voice.

“Does anyone in here have medical training?”

He was startled from his thoughts and almost knocked over the glass in front of him. He turned from the bar and watched as two men, accompanied by the lobby’s receptionist, dragged a third person inside and to the middle of the floor.

A shadow passed by the side of John’s vision and he felt something sharp poke his hand. He jerked around and pulled his hand away from the counter. There was nothing in sight, and without giving it a second thought he took a quick sip from his drink before turning back to the gathering crowd.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Is he breathing?”

“Did anyone call an ambulance?”

“Yeah, it’s on the way.”

 

As John stood and watched the people encircle the man on the floor he felt his forehead suddenly become warm. He reached a hand up and rubbed his face while grabbing at the edge of the bar’s counter for support. Unexpected dizziness took over his motions and made it hard for him to remain standing.

“Does he have any ID on him?”

“I checked the pockets and all I found were these.”

One of the two who had dragged him inside pulled a fistful of wrappers from his pocket and held them out.

“Only stuff he had.”

John recognized the wrappers, and still had one or two identical ones in his own pockets. He felt sick at the thought, and muttered something to the trucker. The older man turned and asked if he was feeling alright.

The following ten minutes were a blur to him. Blurred colors mixed together in his vision as he was slowly led from the room and into the lobby. Voices sounded distant, and his own walking felt like he was moving his legs through water.

His head pounded as he felt two hands guiding him up the carpeted stairs and through a hallway. The ceiling lights were now painful to his eyes, so he kept his head down and tried to remain upright.

“Exhaustion finally catching up with you?”

The trucker received no reply, so he helped John move the last few feet to his room. John slumped against the warm walls and waited as the door was unlocked for him. The interior looked comfortable enough, but his attention was on the bed.

He struggled with a few more steps and collapsed on the inviting covers. A muffled voice said something from the doorway and he heard the door click shut. With no more distractions, he gave in to the growing feeling of exhaustion and passed out.

His relaxation was broken by a loud knock on his door. He made no attempt to move, and remained still as another knock continued to disrupt him. After another knock and distant voice he groaned and rolled off of the soft covers.

John walked to the door and opened it in a daze. Two officers stood outside. One held a notepad and was in the process of writing something down.

“Sorry to disturb you. We’re getting statements from all who were in the bar at the time of that man’s arrival. Several witnesses have confirmed that you left the room shortly after.”

“Yeah, I felt sick and tired. I’ve been traveling all day.”

“We have been unable to identify the man. Have you seen him before?”

“No, I haven’t. I left because I felt sick.”

“Where were you before the incident?”

“I was getting a ride from a trucker…Travis. He should still be around if you want to talk to him.”

The speaking officer looked to the other and continued writing.

“I think we will. I’ll let you get back to sleep, then.”

John began to close the door, but the officer looked up and asked for one last thing.

“Could I ask you to write your name out? Right here.”

John hesitantly took the pen that he was offered and quickly wrote something out.

He handed the clipboard and pen back, and watched as the officer read it. The officer frowned slightly and showed the board to his partner.

“Well, I’ll be back up if I have any further questions, Mr. Doe.”

He looked at John skeptically before turning away and walking toward the staircase. John sighed and closed the door to the hallway. His head was feeling clearer now, and a chill went down his back.

A flake of snow flew through the space of the rented room and passed by his face. His daze was further interrupted as a cold draft blew in through his now-open window. He hurried over to it and gripped the wooden frame before firmly pushing it shut.

He shivered for a minute and looked wildly around the room. Within a few seconds the atmosphere of the room had changed.

“It’s about time they left,” a stifled voice commented. “I think they’re starting to suspect you of something.”

John looked around but found the room to be empty.

“I’m not going to waste time like those other guys. Their failure has cost us enough already.”

As the voice continued from an unknown location he inched toward the door. He reached carefully for the handle and felt his heart rate increase as the sound of muffled laughing reached him. Without thinking he forced the door open and fled into the hallway. He looked back for half a second to see what looked like a man watching him from his doorway.

His hands brushed the carpet as he tumbled forward and scrambled toward the staircase. He reached the top of the stairs and caught himself on the banister. Several officers stood around the lobby, and one pointed at him.

“Quick, he’s trying to flee!”

His heart was the only other thing he could hear as he continued running. He couldn’t tell what was behind him, and only saw one way of escaping. A green metal door at the end of the hallway called to him.

He almost tripped over an employee as he ran, and collected the broom that he had dropped. At the end of the hallway, he yanked the green door open and quickly stepped up into a small stairwell. He paused to pull the door shut and carefully used the broom’s handle to hold it closed.

The officers reached the door as he turned to continue running. At the top of the stairs he tripped and desperately tried to grab the railing before slamming into the landing. He didn’t like the sound of the impact, and pushed himself up to keep moving.

He forced another green door open and froze where he stood. Snow covered the entire rooftop, except for a few sparse areas where hot air was visibly being pumped out. He started to shiver again, and was almost blinded as a flurry of snow hit his face.

“You were easy,” the voice said again. “I thought I might need to do something else in order to get you up here.”

John now saw the dark figure standing several feet away. He appeared to be in a dark suit that covered his entire body. A black helmet shielded his face and muffled his voice.

“Who are you, and why do you want me up here?”

“That other guy wasn’t as lucky as you. You were strong, and able to actually get somewhere. I think you’ll do well with us.”

“You did that?”

“No; the idiots at drop-off did. I told them that it would take a while longer to reach the site. Both of you got out before I could make it.”

“So what happens now?”

“That’s entirely up to you. However, I’m taking you with me no matter the outcome.”

“I won’t go unless you tell me what this is for.”

“That’s not something I’m authorized to say. Even if I could tell you, there’s the fact that I don’t want to. This is just another job for a Ghost.”

John quickly surveyed the ground around him, and small something narrow partially buried in the snow. He tried to keep his gaze on the other man while he crouched to retrieve it. Someone had abandoned a crowbar, and now he held the icy metal in his bare hands.

“Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

“Answer me,” John ordered.

Before he had time to prepare the stranger drew something from his side and shot it at John’s leg. He raised the crowbar and threw it as a flash erupted. He felt a sharp pain surge through his body. The crowbar was thrown to low and only managed to knock the device from the Ghost’s hands. He felt his legs go numb and fought to remain standing as the Ghost approached.

The Ghost watched John’s strength falter as he fell backward into the snow. A blue light appeared on his arm, and the Ghost began to talk into a device.

“232 here. I’ve captured the target. My estimated arrival time is in 80 minutes.”

“We’ll see you then,” another voice crackled back.

He moved forward to the point where he was stood directly over his stunned opponent. As he was about to reach for something else, a metallic thud distracted him. He listened, and looked at the stairwell door.

“They’re coming up,” he stated.

John’s breathing quickened as he attempted to recover control of his body. He ground his teeth and tried to shift his leg as the Ghost looked for another small object. With a grunt he slipped his arms behind his back and pushed himself upward. He lost all balance and struck the Ghost’s waist. They both moved ungracefully toward a warm vent, and John was first to recover. He struck the side of the Ghost’s helmet with his fist and tried to knock him onto the ground.

The Ghost matched his advances and was able to grip John’s arms. He forced him around and kicked the middle of his back. John rolled through the snow and felt its cold touch all over his body. Irritated, the Ghost stormed toward him and brought a boot down on his upper leg. His right arm brushed snow aside as he tried to reach for anything that could help. John tried to kick weakly with his other leg but could only watch the Ghost draw something like pistol from his side.

“You’re really pushing this. Don’t say I didn’t offer you an easy way around this.”

As the Ghost aimed and made a final comment about the situation, he felt his fingers wrap around the cold handle of the previously dropped object. He swung his arm out of the snow and shot blindly at his pursuer.

The Ghost’s voice indicated pain as he took a few steps back and glanced around the rooftop. With a surge of adrenaline, John again rose from the cold rooftop and charged into the stranger.

The Ghost yelled something as he fell backward and hit the edge of the rooftop. His boots caught on a narrow rim, but John continued to push into him with the last of his strength. He watched the dark shape as it dropped two stories to the cold area behind the lodge. There was an audible thud as he hit the ground, and John watched the motionless figure until a louder thud assaulted the inside of the stairwell door. Before moving, he quietly spoke to the cold air and falling snow.

“I hope that one day people know what you’re doing.”

Hoping to avoid conflict, he moved along the edge of the roof and slipped over the side. He eased himself down onto the roof of a parked truck, and then down to ground level. The voices of the officers were barely audible as he walked toward where the Ghost had fallen.

“He’s not up here. I want men down on the ground searching around the lodge. Check the rooms and find him as soon as you can.”

John breathed a sigh of relief, but knew that he’d have to leave. Nobody would believe his story without proof, and leading them to the Ghost could only complicate things. He decided that after checking the body he’d leave the man there for the officers to find.

His thoughts were interrupted as he stepped around another vehicle and arrived at the site. He felt his insides drop as he stared at the empty impression in the snow. He could see a vaguely human imprint, but saw no footprints leading away from it other than his own. As he watched, the falling snow began to fill the impression and erase his only evidence.


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