What Waits in Winter

What Waits in Winter

By: Emily Chancey

Pure white snow embraced the world beyond Katherine’s isolated ranger station, each flake a silent trespasser. She stared into the dense woods, a memory nagging at the back of her mind; a tale the older rangers told of voices on the wind, carried in by the first snow. A trick of the cold air, they had said. The radio crackled to life just after midnight, breaking the six hours of dead silence just as the season's first snow began to embrace the world beyond the windows. The sound came suddenly, startling her . Her heart slammed in her chest as she made her way from the window to where the radio sat on the counter.

“H-hello?” The sound of static was eating into the feed. “Is any – there?”

Her hand trembled just above the receiver, the voice spilling from it. It was subtle, but the voice seemed to shift oddly between tones, as if sampling different pitches, before settling into a man’s pained cries.

“I need -- bleeding badly,” intense bouts of static warbled the message, the crackling cutting off entire sections of speech. “Something’s out - - me. Please! Someone hel-”

Katherine hesitated, usually this time of year was empty, the snowfall a repellant to the visitors. The very first snowfall of the season usually drove the campers away without fail, leaving this time of year quiet. Aside from that, the warnings that had been issued all throughout the week for an upcoming snow storm would’ve guaranteed the trail's desolation. It was strange that someone was even out here. Usually, there’d be two rangers at each station, but with her partner at his daughter’s wedding and the upcoming snow, management assured her it would be an easy weekend. She was beginning to doubt their judgment.

“Hello? This is Ranger Hill at Station 7,” her voice even and calm. “Can you repeat the nature of your emergency and the last trail marker you saw?”

She waited for the response, a cold sweat broke out across her brow. She was nervous. The long pause before the reply held an icy grip on her, biting through the cabin’s warmth. The station's equipment had been glitchy since the recent lightning storm, yet maintenance wouldn’t fix it until after the forecasted snowstorm.

“I’m - - to marker 7. Please I - - help. It hurts-- marker 7!” Panic seemed to have set in for the man. “-- so much blood.”

Katherine’s throat felt dry, a subtle sense of unease spreading through her. Marker Seven wasn’t far from the cabin; it was almost close enough to see the warm glow emanating from the station, especially in the cold dark air of winter. If it was that close, why was the transmission like it was coming from another world? Something wasn’t right.

“Alright,” she said, glad her voice didn’t betray her nerves. “Stay where you are. If you have a light, leave it on to make it easier to find you. Put pressure on the wound and try to remain calm. I’m coming to get you.”

Quickly, Katherine picked up the bright red phone wired into the wall. A handwritten label taped below it read “DISPATCH”.

“Dispatch, this is Hill from S7, Please have emergency services on standby, possible trail injury, maybe animal related, just called in by radio. I’ve got a possible location that’s pretty close by, I’m going to attempt a rescue.”

The sound of smacking gum assaulted her ears, the speaker in the phone working too well.

“Oh, Katherine! First responders in this weather, wow,” a nasally voice. It was Shelly, an older woman with an inability to read a situation.

“Okay, Hun. But I suggest you take your time, not like they’re going anywhere in this weather,” She snorted, pleased with her own joke, “Anyway, Sweetpea, you be careful now and make sure to bundle up, that snow is really starting to come down.”

Katherine rolled her eyes and confirmed to Shelly the beginning time of her search. 12:23 AM. It would take her no more than 3 minutes by ATV to make it to the location given by the man over the receiver, and if the bleeding was bad enough to cause such a distress call then she had no time to waste. She hoped the snow hadn’t built up enough to hinder the ATV, the last thing she wanted was forcing an injured man to try and walk back to the station with her.

She made her way to the door, swinging the emergency response bag across her back and hooking the radio into her belt. She grabbed the keys from the hook next to the door and stepped through the threshold.

The moment the door closed behind her a dreadful silence washed over her. A shiver, not fully related to the chilling air, snaked down her spine. The only sound was snow crunching underfoot as she hurried to the ATV. She swung her leg over the seat and was comforted by the roaring sound of the engine. Its volume enhanced by the crisp cold air.

She glanced at the dense tactical watch clinging to her wrist. 12:26. She was making decent time. Her mind echoed the scared voice battling the static as she pressed the throttle and raced into the trails.

This area had been her territory for five years; the trails within should’ve been familiar. Yet now, illuminated by weak yellow stabs of light, it felt absolutely alien to her. The shadows seemed to reach out like gnarled hands trying to grab her. Low branches and hanging vines swiped at her like the arms of long dead corpses.

Just after marker eight, the radio burst to life, startling her and causing the ATV to wobble dangerously on the snow.

“Please! He -- me!” The voice was almost a wail, wracked with fear and pain. “-- it’s out he -- with me!”

Katherine reached for the radio while keeping her eyes on the darkened trail.

“This is Ranger Hill. I’m —”

The ATV hit a ridge of snow, jarring her hand from the radio button. A split second later she saw a massive shape across the path ahead.

A large diseased tree laid across the path. Katherine hit the brakes, the back end of the ATV swinging around wildly before slamming into the half decayed trunk of the massive thing. Sharp branches pressed into her, ripping her jacket in several places and a few well placed limbs even piercing skin. She groaned, adrenaline dulling the searing pain. The voice over the radio replayed in her mind, over and over. The fear was palpable.

She freed herself from the grasp of the dead branches and assessed her situation. One of the ATVs front wheels was flat, skewered by a thick branch. She looked left and right, greeted only by dense underbrush - no way around but over. With no choice left, she began clearing a path through the branches.

She was close by, if she triaged correctly she’d have enough time to devise a way to get the injured hiker over the felled tree and onto the ATV. She ran, a thick flashlight illuminated the path ahead, the sharp white light clashed with the dark woods, allowing the foliage to cast strange and malicious shadows. Before her, the glint of the reflective trail sign ignited a flicker of hope in her chest. She almost skidded to a stop on the frozen earth in front of the sign.

“Hello?” She called out, her voice traveling well in the crisp night air. The silence almost assaulted her. She swung the light around.

“Park ranger! Hello!” The words broke against the wall of silence. Her voice swallowed by the snow that consumed all sound. The wind had gone still.

The air temperature dropped suddenly, frost crystallizing on her eyelashes despite the absence of wind. Her flashlight beam dimmed, then brightened, then dimmed again, pulsing like a heartbeat. When she exhaled, her breath clouded oddly, curling back behind her instead of hovering in the still air around her.

Behind her, a branch cracked. She jumped, whirling around, fear washing through her. Nothing moved, not a sound was made. Was it a prank call? Some well executed hoax? Is that why the transmission was so rough? It felt like the forest was closing in around her. She tried to steady her breathing. She pressed the call button on her radio.

“Dispatch, this is Hill. Something’s not right out here. I’m at Marker 7 but—”

Only static answered her. She tried again, adjusting the frequency. Nothing but the same hollow static that infected the earlier transmission.

“Hello,” a distant voice. It was the same man she heard on the radio, utterly calm with an unsettling edge, almost monotone. Every instinct warned her to turn back, but she pictured someone alone, bleeding out in the snow. Maybe the old rangers tales had made her jumpy, she couldn’t abandon a potential victim. Clutching her radio tighter, she cautiously moved forward, overtly conscious of the weight of the holster on her thigh.

“Hey! This is Ranger Hill, where are you? I’m here to assist,” she tried to sound confident and helpful, but that odd tone deeply unsettled her. She heard the voice again, somehow farther away.

“Over here,” it called.

She hesitated, if the hiker was injured how was he getting farther away? She took in her surroundings, her breath hitched in her throat at the sheer uniformity of the forest around her. It had only been a few steps yet there was no hint of the trail. Not even a glimpse of the reflective sign. A heavy weight settled atop her shoulders, not of snow, but of something unseen.

Instinctively she glanced at her watch. 12:32. Her lungs seemed to freeze, the realization stealing the air from her. There was no possible way she had gotten so deep in the forest in such little time.

“Hello,” she called weakly, silently hoping there was no reply.

“Katherine!” Full of life and nasally. Familiar yet foreign. Dripping with that same strange undertone. It was notably closer.

Her body knew the danger before her mind did. Muscles locked, skin prickled with cold sweat, her pupils dilated against the darkness. Ancient instincts screamed danger from every cell in her body. She unholstered her pistol, the weight of it steadying her shaking hands. Training tried to take over as she flicked off the safety and held it alongside her flashlight, sweeping both in half coordinated movements across the forest. The familiar procedure a brief comfort.

Her eyes scanned as she tried to process. The same strange undertone she had heard from the injured man on the radio was the same in the voices she heard here. Distant, alien and wrong. As if human speech had been filtered through something that had never possessed a human throat.

Katherine forced herself to think. Standard protocol: establish location, and find bearings for safety. She looked up, searching for stars to orient herself, but a thick canopy and falling snow left the sky dim and blank. Her flashlight reflecting off identical trees in every direction. She frantically patted her pockets, remembering too late that her compass, along with her other survival basics, was still attached to the damaged ATV. She considered retracing her steps, but snow had already begun to fill her footprints. Hopelessness was beginning to flood her veins.

With horrid realization, her mind decided there was no injured man. It had been a trap. She had been lured to the depths of the remote. Isolated, away from warmth. Away from hope. Katherine remembered the tales, the voices that came with the first snow. Not just tricks of the cold air as the codgery rangers had said. Not just a story to scare the rookie rangers.

Suddenly another sound shattered the silence, and she turned wildly, breathing heavily. A new voice rang out, lower and gravely, like a voice unused for a lifetime.

“Katherine,” it drew her name out sickeningly. Like a bully taunting a child.

A whimper escaped from her lips. The fear she felt overwhelmed her. The beam from her light shook, matching the trembling of her hands. Crunching footsteps sounded from an indiscernible direction, thrashing Katherine with inhumane amounts of dread. She swung the light around, a weak attempt to ward off the solid darkness.

The footsteps stopped and the silence hung heavy in the air. Her ragged breathing was the only sound for miles. Her heart pounded so hard she believed a broken rib was inevitable.

A brittle snap, a rush of air tickled her skin, and her flashlight flickered pitifully. Horror overcame her as the light died, allowing the opaque night to consume her. She stood frozen in the spot, terror rooting her there. She fumbled for the backup light in her pocket, fingers numb with cold and fear.

It sputtered to life - a weak beam that illuminated nothing but swirling snow. Then movement at the edge of the light; a shape that seemed to be circling her. She turned, attempting to track it, but it revealed nothing but misplaced shadows. For one heartbeat, the light strengthened and glinted against the gravel edge of the main trail.

She saw it, just yards away. Safety. Katherine lunged forward, boots finding purchase on the fresh snow.

The light died again. Absolute darkness. A sound came from behind her - not footsteps but something sliding across the snow. A hot damp breath fanned across the back of her neck, rustling her hair. A quick, gritty whisper caressed her ear.

“Katherine!”