Creatures of Snow

  Creatures of Snow

  by

  Teresa Carlson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  © 2014 Teresa Carlson

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

  This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations.

  Dedication

  Tim, this is for you, ask me why, and I might tell you…te he he.

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to all of you who have given me your time, knowledge and patience. Rick, Angie and Kerry – a special thanks goes out to ya’ll. You have been my biggest supporters and I never would have gotten this far without all of you!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter One

  Skyden Regan never considered himself much of a dreamer. Everything about him was pretty straight forward - from his slouching don’t-care posture, to his achievable, sub-standard goals. Most days he would be ranked above slacker, just under go-getter, and always miles away from a dreamer.

  He sat with his head down and his hood up. The transport was nearly empty as it rattled on with only a few stiff-suited businessmen and a trio of rowdy teens. He had been riding the same route almost all day, to the end of the line and back again. Every time Driver Calhoun would glance back at him Sky just went on staring out the window, waiting for the transport to lurch back onto the road. He had started the ride with the intention of putting distance between himself and reality. He needed space to think about his impending future, but for all his effort, all he could seem to conjure was the past.

  He remembered her voice, soft and light, like the song of a bird. What would you do if you could really touch the sky? The clearest memory he had of his mother was one of the last.

  It was almost ten years ago, they couldn’t have been more than six - he and his brother had been playing on the back-lot, just beyond the stream. They hadn’t fought once that day and his mother brought fruits and sweets as a surprise. He could still feel the cool earth under his bare feet as he tasted the sweet chocolate and tart berries. He could still picture the soft breeze, full of the rich scents of autumn, sending the grasses of the valley in to a wild dance of undulating waves.

  He reached a hand up against the blue of the sky wishing he could catch the moment, telling his brain to forever remember that instant when the worlds were quiet and his short, whirlwind of a life was finally perfect.

  “What would you do if you could really touch the sky?” Her voice floated up behind him.

  Even at his young age, he had been through the jump-gates twice, he had seen the depth of space. “That’s impossible.” He laughed at her. “The sky is an illusion. It’s just…empty space.”

  She smiled and smoothed back his riot of black hair. “Not everything is what it seems, little one.”

  “I wouldn’t want to touch the sky, mommy.” His twin brother, Soulen, said between mouthfuls of cake, “I’d be afraid I’d break it, and it’s so beautiful.”

  Oh, how she laughed and smiled. She was like the sun, making them feel warm and loved, “My beautiful boys.” She hugged them tightly, “My Soul and my Sky.”

  A jab against the back of his seat jarred him back into the present. He clenched his jaw, along with his fist. So far he had successfully controlled his instinct to start a fight with the three jerks behind him, but they were really, truly pushing it.

  “Look, scrapper kids,” One of the punks announced, hitting the window with a fat fist. “Come on. Let’s get off here.”

  Sky glanced out the window and saw the two skinny little kids hawking some homemade jewelry by the transport stop.

  The three thugs pushed their way towards the front of the transport, none of them gave him a second look, but he couldn’t help but stare. The ringleader must have been the reserved one with the zit-covered face that slithered along behind the two more brutal looking guys.

  He took another look out the dusty window at the unsuspecting scrapper kids; they wouldn’t stand a chance against the older boys.

  Sky hesitated and tapped his finger lightly on the seat. He didn’t have to go. No one would even know, or probably even care, that he could have stopped a couple of little street rats from getting pummeled by a gang of trust-fund punks. He didn’t have to do anything but keep riding the transport.

  He pulled at his hood and pushed his head back into his seat, trying to forget the faces of those two, scrawny, little kids. But, he was a slave to his more primal instincts, and sprang to his feet.

  “Skyden.” Driver Calhoun swung the door back down just as Sky got to it. “This isn’t your stop.”

  “I’ll catch the next one home.” He needed to find a route where the driver wasn’t friends with his dad.

  Driver Calhoun pursed his dry lips and shook his head. “You have a choice, you know.” He said softly, “You can just sit back down.”

  “I need some air.” He shrugged and held his ground with his feet pointed straight at the door.

  Calhoun sighed with an exaggerated hum and slapped the controls, sending the door up in a rush of unfiltered air.

  Sky paused on the ledge, looking down at the road. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” He said and jumped down to the street, not daring to look back and see the disappointment on Calhoun’s face.

  After a few steps he realized there was no sign of the three thugs or the little scrappers.

  He looked back the way he had come, and then further down the street, wondering where they could have gone. Pushing his hands into his pockets, he hunched his shoulders in the slight defeat, but wasn’t ready to give up quite yet.

  A yell caught his attention and sent his eyes searching the dingy sidewalks through the scattered crowds. Just as he began to doubt what he had heard (mainly due to the total lack of response from those around him) the sound came again – a small yell of anger and fear.

  They couldn’t be far.

  He took off down the side-walk and passed two alleyways before he saw them – two little kids against three big bullies.

  He assessed his enemy - Meat Head, the bulky one would probably be slow, but would certainly pack a big punch. The shorter, muscular one, Crew Cut, looked tough and was wound tighter than a spring. Their leader, Puss Face stood back
from the other two, letting them do the dirty work.

  “Hey!” Sky yelled with as much anger as he could muster and was pleased with their startled surprise.

  Puss Face was the first to turn towards him, a look of annoyance clearly presented on his lumpy face. “You, huh?”

  “Leave ‘em alone.” Sky walked towards them, pulling down his hood and pushing his shoulders back.

  Crew Cut let out a big laugh with a good mix of phlegm behind it. “Is this kid serious?”

  “These little scrap turds were engaging in illegal activity.” Puss Face cocked his head to the side and shrugged, “We’re just trying to clean up the streets for all the decent folk in this city.”

  “So you’re gonna beat up little kids?” Sky growled.

  “Me? No.” Puss Face shook a head full of greasy hair, “They are.” He gestured over to Meat Head and Crew Cut and gave a little nod.

  Meat Head pulled back his arm and the bigger of the two scrappers pulled the other one behind her.

  Sky lunged, pushing Puss Face out of his way as he ran towards Meat Head. It took a bit of effort, but he was able to wrap his arm around the wide middle of Meat Head’s massive body and use his momentum to pull them both down to the ground. He only had an instant to jump back up and regain his balance in order to shove Crew Cut back and away from the kids.

  “Run, idiots!” He yelled at the scrappers.

  They obeyed with little more than a nod of thanks and dashed off towards the light of the street, not looking back.

  The rest of the fight was over before it really began – Sky managed to get both Crew Cut and Meat Head on the ground, groaning and moaning with just a few hits. The two of them were most likely used to dealing with smaller, weaker victims, not someone with years of school yard brawls under their belt.

  A giggle sliced through the thick air. Sky turned to see Puss Face standing with a creepy look on his bumpy face.

  “What are you laughing at?” Sky demanded as Puss Face’s giggles turned into outright laughter. “You’re next if you don’t get out of here!”

  “You can’t touch me.” Puss Face’s smile spread like a disease. “Skyden Regan.”

  Sky tensed. Do I know this guy?

  “You’re as stupid as they say, aren’t you?” Puss Face boldly stepped towards him. “I was a year ahead of you at primary school, I’m Joshua Harmos.” Puss Face paused, expecting some sort of reaction, but only received a blank stare in return, “My father owns Astrodeli.”

  More blank stare.

  “He’s one of your dad’s biggest clients.”

  “Ohhhhh.” Sky still had no idea who this punk was. “So what.”

  “So, unless your dear old daddy wants to lose over half his business you better turn around and never breathe a word of this to anyone.”

  Crew Cut and Meat Head clamored to their feet, each one sporting nasty smirks.

  “Yeah,” Meat Head laughed, “Run home to daddy.”

  “And then try to explain this!” Crew Cut swung an upper-cut at Sky’s jaw.

  But he wasn’t susceptible, not even to cheap shots. He caught Crew Cuts fist and crushed it with as much force as he dared. A simple twist of his arm brought Crew Cut to his knees.

  “Funny thing-” Sky started, knowing that he shouldn’t enjoy the squeals of pain reverberating off the gritty walls as much as he did. “My dad’s company, Fortuna Freight, well they just landed a pretty big contract that’s gonna have ‘em busy for quite a while. In fact they’re probably not even gonna have time to deal with, what was it called again, Ass-load-dilly?”

  Meat Head’s face twisted up in a rage, “Let him go!” He bellowed.

  “No.” Sky laughed and twisted Crew Cuts arm a little more, just enough to make him scream.

  “Stop!” Meat Head lunged at him; swung and missed to which Sky answered calmly with a palm into the center of his face.

  Out of respect for Meat Head’s efforts, Sky let go of Crew Cut and backed up a few steps. “You’re a coward, Pu…Joshua.” Sky pointed an accusing finger towards him. If only he would make a move, if only he could hit that nasty little face, but Sky fought with only one rule – he would never throw the first punch.

  “Oh, please. As if I should care what you think. Do you know what this uniform represents?” Joshua gestured specifically to the embroidered emblem on his dark blue suit jacket.

  Sky honestly hadn’t noticed it, but now that it was literally pointed out to him, he knew exactly what it meant.

  “This represents knowledge, wealth, and superiority – all the things you’ll never know or have.” Joshua’s beady little eyes sparkled with arrogance. “It means that to the world - I’m the victim here, and you’re the monster.”

  Sky stepped back, his world spreading out beyond the alley and into the noises of the street. People were walking and moving all around them. No one had interrupted them yet, but it was only a matter of time.

  “No one is going to believe that a street-punk like you was attacked by a couple of clean-cut REALM Academy students.” Joshua crossed his arms with a confidence only an arrogant jerk could master, “And look, there isn’t a scratch on you - only the blood from poor Anthony’s nose.”

  “We could ask those kids you were bullying, I bet-”

  “Those kids won’t say a thing, you know why?” Joshua stepped up to Sky with a straight back and high chin. “Because, unlike you, they understand how things work and they know who I am.”

  Sky felt his jaw tighten and his fist clench harder, a rage he reserved only for the rarest occasion began to bubble in the base of his guts.

  “Skyden.” A familiar voice called out behind him.

  The breath he’d been holding escaped in an annoyed sigh, “You’ve got terrible timing, Al.” He looked back over his shoulder to see his best friend, Allen Kane standing near the mouth of the alley.

  Al only shook his head at him.

  “Well, you know what, Joshua Harmos,” Sky turned slowly and walked towards Al who had probably just saved them all from a bloody mess, “from now on,” he crooked his head just enough to let a nasty smile of his own be seen by Puss Face. “I know who you are too.”

  He didn’t wait to see Puss Face’s reaction; he just turned back around and walked away, past Al and out into the street.

  Chapter Two

  Al kept pace beside him as he hurried down the sidewalk, which was quite a feat considering he was at least a head and a half shorter. Sky didn’t want to look down at him yet, Al’s silence was proof he was mad.

  “Are you kidding me?!” Al finally snapped once they were out of ear shot from the alley. “Of all the days for you to go around and get into another fight!”

  “Sorry, mom.” Sky’s eye roll didn’t go un-noticed and was answered with a cold glare. “You must be taking lessons from your uncle Zero, your angry face is getting scary.”

  “Maybe you forgot, but today was sort of important. You’re missing your own party, you know.” Al shook a head full of floppy, lemon colored curls. “The one day I get to stay out past curfew and you make me waste it tracking you down!”

  Al had been Sky’s best friend as long as he could remember. Al’s uncle Zero was the co-founder of Fortuna Freight along with Sky’s dad, and Al’s father was an old friend of the family.

  They had reached the transport stop and according to the schedule in all its backlit glory, they would be waiting awhile for the next one to come by.

  Al sat down inside the stops shelter with an exaggerated sigh. Sky hesitated sitting next to him – not wanting to invite another sour look. He opted instead to lean against the thin wall of the stop, trying to look calm, cool and unbothered by Al’s glowering mood.

  “How did you find me anyway?” Sky sulked, rubbing away some of the blood on his hand.

  Al’s eyes were as hard as the metal bench, “I was waiting for you at the crossroads.” He shook his head and curled his lip, “When you didn’t show up I went to the transport stop
.” He shrugged and looked away down the road. “Word travels fast amongst the drivers.”

  As the light faded away from the only bit of visible sky, projected advertisements came to life above them in a vivid haze of manipulation and subjugation.

  “I’m sorry, Al.” Sky shoved his hands into his sweatshirt and his chin into his chest. His own rave blue eyes caught his attention momentarily in the clear glass that lined the back wall. He looked pathetic – his ragged mess of hair framed a blood splattered face that had missed one too many nights of sleep. He wiped the crimson spots and streaks away with his sleeve, glad to have chosen the dark blue hoodie over the yellow one.

  “Why? Why couldn’t you just go home? You know your dad’s been planning this party forever.” Al’s angry face had melted away to a look that best resembled something much worse – disappointment.

  Sky sank down to the bench, letting his head drop even lower. “I know.” But he wouldn’t have to face what was really happening if he didn’t go home.

  “I know it’s scary, and a really big change, but you’ve got to grow up sometime.” Al spoke softly, a tone of understanding in his steady words.

  Sky huffed and sat up annoyed. They were both fifteen, they were both leaving Primary school behind and moving on to Secondary. What right did Al have to act all grown-up and mature about it?

  “I’m not scared. I’m just angry. No one ever listens to me.” That was somewhat true. “I didn’t even want to go to Secondary school.” That was stretching the truth. “I’d be happy just working for my dad and taking over the business. What’s wrong with that?” That was an outright lie.

  “The Academy of Arche is a great school, and hard to get in to. You should be proud to have been accepted.”

  “Zeph’s the founder, of course I got in.” But that was a lie too, wasn’t it.

  He had passed the exams and survived the physical trials of the Arche Academy with ease. In fact, it was a great fit for Sky – a school that thrived on those with a strong mind, will and body. The catch was its strict discipline and military-like rule. Even Zeph, who was like an uncle to him (like, the crazy uncle that you only admit relation to when absolutely necessary), had warned him to consider his application very carefully. But really, what choice did he have?