stand there, clutching the knob.
I’m stunned by the quiet. I stare at the door, panting. When I get enough breath, I yell.
“Dad!”
FOURTEEN
In the morning, I catch a ride to the hospital on the back of Ash’s motorbike. The blowing snow and black ice on the highway to Barrie keep me wide-awake and holding on tight.
Last night was endless. No chance for sleep. I’m still dazed and confused.
After a drive with dead shock absorbers, I feel a little saddle sore as we walk through the parking lot of the Royal Victoria Hospital. I was passing through these same doors not ten hours ago, after Dad raced us up here. With Howie unconscious and half frozen, stripped of his wet clothes and mummified in blankets, we all crammed into the front of Dad’s pickup. The ambulance from Barrie would have taken forever. Howie was shivering like crazy the whole way, which Dad said was a good sign—his body was trying to warm itself. Stop shivering when you’re that cold and you’re dead.
In the emergency room they wrapped him in heatingpads and started him on warmed IV saline. Around here they see a lot of hypothermia, so they had him out of danger pretty quick. He woke up for a little bit, but he just stared through us, like we weren’t there.
“It’s shock,” the doctor told us. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep him overnight. It’ll pass.”
Dad’s back at the lake now, going over the scene around the ice hut with the cops, trying to figure out why the ice gave. Me and Pike never said anything about the growling and the roar. Neither of us actually saw anything. All anybody knows for sure is Howie went through the ice. They didn’t find anything else wrong with him besides hypothermia. No sign of any attack. So I kept my mouth shut, and Pike was busy dealing with his parents.
Everybody’s just waiting for Howie to recover and tell us what happened on the lake. Everybody but me. I’ve got a pretty good idea.
Me and Ash find Howie’s room and take a peek.
The lights are off, but the glare from the snowy day comes through the window. Howie lies buried under a pile of blankets, his eyes shut.
“Still sleeping,” Ash whispers.
“Shhh,” a voice hushes us.
We turn and see Pike slouched in a chair behind the door. Guarding Howie, like always. He looks wiped out. Been on watch all night. He stands now and jerks a thumb toward the door, kicking us out.
Pike follows us into the hall. “Howie keeps waking up. Crying out. Nightmares, I guess. He just got back to sleep.”
“But he’s going to be okay, right?” Ash asks.
“That’s what they tell us,” Pike says. “My mother just went home to get him some clothes. Dad had to head out to the base.” He tries to fight back a yawn. “Man, I need some caffeine.”
“There’s a cafeteria downstairs,” Ash says.
“I’ll keep an eye on Howie,” I tell him.
“Yeah? Stay in the room. Don’t leave him alone.”
“Okay. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll just run down, then. But don’t wake him up.”
“I won’t.”
He stretches his back. “Later we gotta talk, Danny.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Ash takes Pike to the cafeteria as I ease the door shut and step quietly over to Howie’s bed. Even in this low light he looks pale.
A bare foot sticks out from the blankets. I reach to cover it up.
“Danny?”
I flinch at his voice, scratchy, barely a whisper. Howie’s eyes are open, focused on me. They’ve got this glazed, feverish look.
“Thought you were sleeping.”
He shakes his head limply on the pillow.
“Can’t sleep. When I close my eyes I keep seeing …”
I wait for him to finish, but he just lies there. The pile of blankets rises and falls slightly with his shallow breathing.
“You were there?” he finally says. “Last night?”
“Yeah. Me and Pike heard you yell. And we ran out to get you.”
“Did you see it?”
In the winter light his face is ghost white. His eyes are wide but unfocused. He’s seeing last night.
My throat has
I’m stunned by the quiet. I stare at the door, panting. When I get enough breath, I yell.
“Dad!”
FOURTEEN
In the morning, I catch a ride to the hospital on the back of Ash’s motorbike. The blowing snow and black ice on the highway to Barrie keep me wide-awake and holding on tight.
Last night was endless. No chance for sleep. I’m still dazed and confused.
After a drive with dead shock absorbers, I feel a little saddle sore as we walk through the parking lot of the Royal Victoria Hospital. I was passing through these same doors not ten hours ago, after Dad raced us up here. With Howie unconscious and half frozen, stripped of his wet clothes and mummified in blankets, we all crammed into the front of Dad’s pickup. The ambulance from Barrie would have taken forever. Howie was shivering like crazy the whole way, which Dad said was a good sign—his body was trying to warm itself. Stop shivering when you’re that cold and you’re dead.
In the emergency room they wrapped him in heatingpads and started him on warmed IV saline. Around here they see a lot of hypothermia, so they had him out of danger pretty quick. He woke up for a little bit, but he just stared through us, like we weren’t there.
“It’s shock,” the doctor told us. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep him overnight. It’ll pass.”
Dad’s back at the lake now, going over the scene around the ice hut with the cops, trying to figure out why the ice gave. Me and Pike never said anything about the growling and the roar. Neither of us actually saw anything. All anybody knows for sure is Howie went through the ice. They didn’t find anything else wrong with him besides hypothermia. No sign of any attack. So I kept my mouth shut, and Pike was busy dealing with his parents.
Everybody’s just waiting for Howie to recover and tell us what happened on the lake. Everybody but me. I’ve got a pretty good idea.
Me and Ash find Howie’s room and take a peek.
The lights are off, but the glare from the snowy day comes through the window. Howie lies buried under a pile of blankets, his eyes shut.
“Still sleeping,” Ash whispers.
“Shhh,” a voice hushes us.
We turn and see Pike slouched in a chair behind the door. Guarding Howie, like always. He looks wiped out. Been on watch all night. He stands now and jerks a thumb toward the door, kicking us out.
Pike follows us into the hall. “Howie keeps waking up. Crying out. Nightmares, I guess. He just got back to sleep.”
“But he’s going to be okay, right?” Ash asks.
“That’s what they tell us,” Pike says. “My mother just went home to get him some clothes. Dad had to head out to the base.” He tries to fight back a yawn. “Man, I need some caffeine.”
“There’s a cafeteria downstairs,” Ash says.
“I’ll keep an eye on Howie,” I tell him.
“Yeah? Stay in the room. Don’t leave him alone.”
“Okay. Don’t worry.”
“I’ll just run down, then. But don’t wake him up.”
“I won’t.”
He stretches his back. “Later we gotta talk, Danny.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Ash takes Pike to the cafeteria as I ease the door shut and step quietly over to Howie’s bed. Even in this low light he looks pale.
A bare foot sticks out from the blankets. I reach to cover it up.
“Danny?”
I flinch at his voice, scratchy, barely a whisper. Howie’s eyes are open, focused on me. They’ve got this glazed, feverish look.
“Thought you were sleeping.”
He shakes his head limply on the pillow.
“Can’t sleep. When I close my eyes I keep seeing …”
I wait for him to finish, but he just lies there. The pile of blankets rises and falls slightly with his shallow breathing.
“You were there?” he finally says. “Last night?”
“Yeah. Me and Pike heard you yell. And we ran out to get you.”
“Did you see it?”
In the winter light his face is ghost white. His eyes are wide but unfocused. He’s seeing last night.
My throat has
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