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Nash Lendan, a field biologist, was huddled in front of a crackling fire in what was seemingly the middle of nowhere. He wasn’t even sure why he agreed to go on this stupid trek. He felt like he was freezing from the inside out, and the fact that no one was within one hundred miles of the region didn’t exactly lift his spirits. A chill suddenly ran up his spine and he tensed. It feels like something is watching me… Nash thought, eyes darting around the cave in which he had made camp. Abruptly Nash noticed the complete silence of the Alaskan tundra that was broken by the crack of breaking ice nearby. With his heartbeat thundering in his throat, Nash turned to see a pair of two gleaming eyes in the darkness, and then felt extreme pain and cold at the same instant in his chest. Gasping for breath, he dug at the source of the pain, finding only a deep gash attaching his left shoulder to his right side. Looking around in vain for something to stop the bleeding and the pain, his search was rudely interrupted by the hissing of his fire. He watched, intrigued, as something was burned in the flame, but the only evidence he could find of the object was a stream of water that was trickling from the lowering blaze. In the faint light, Nash saw a humanlike figure sauntering out of the cave into the snowdrifts of the icy tundra. Blackness began crawling into Nash‘s vision, and his soul slowly began to leave his body.
“Can we please rest?” Hewitt said, gasping for breath. “This is beginning to get heavy.” His hood had fallen down, revealing a shock of white-blonde hair.
Minda thought about the request, heaving her pack from shoulder to shoulder. “Okay. I think we’ve earned it. Odakota, would you please tell us a good place to make camp?” Odakota, a native Eskimo, had been hired for their guide in this desolate state. His black eyes scanned the terrain briefly, and he silently raised an arm to point at a flat area. “Thank you, Odakota,” Minda said, and strolled over to the designated area to throw down her pack heavily. Hewitt followed suit, sighing in relief as his shoulders and back were freed from the burden. He took out one of the tents and laid it out, watching the other two as they did the same.
When the tents were set up, Minda sat on her cot, deep in thought. She had closed her brown eyes to help her concentrate on the subject at hand. So far a Canadian murderer had been tracked to the border of Alaska and Canada, but then the trace of the killer had been lost. If this is what it looks like, she thought, it could be another vestige of the killer. Grimacing at the thought of his other vestiges, she crawled into her sleeping bag and fell into a restless sleep.
“Shut up!” His mother slapped him so hard his head felt like it would fall off his neck. “If you back talk me again, you’ll have no food tomorrow,” she spat at him, unable to take away food that day since she already had. Hewitt could feel tears at the back of his eyes, but if he let them out, she would just hit him again.
"Yes ma’am,” he muttered with his eyes downcasted to the floor, and, despite the pain, walked to his room without looking back. He could hear his brother getting his punishment for stealing, which was a lot worse than the slap he had gotten. Suddenly his dad appeared, holding a belt, and he tensed, hoping it wasn’t for him.
“Get out of the way.” His dad shoved him against the wall, and trudged past him, while Hewitt nursed a bloody nose. Regaining himself, he walked to the garage, the "bedroom" he and his brother shared together. Lying on the floor with a thin blanket, he watched the door, waiting for his brother. Abruptly the door opened and his brother was pushed in roughly by their father, and he landed with his face inches from the pavement. Their father slammed the door and Hewitt could hear him stomping off. He looked in concern at his bruised and cut brother, and helped him up.
“Why do they do this to us?” Terrian yelled, tears streaming down his face. “It doesn’t make sense. We’re their kids!” Sobbing, he threw himself into his brother’s arms. “I wish they would just disappear.” Hewitt could hear the muffled voice of Terrian over the sobs.
Silent tears were running down Hewitt's face, but he roughly brushed them away. Why did he have to become a murderer? he asked himself, thinking about his brother. Our parents were sent to jail. Why did he have to take his anger out on people he didn’t know? Even though he was asking himself this, he already knew why. He had read somewhere that people that have been abused normally became more violent as they got older. Another sign was how Terrian had dropped out of high school.
A snort and the rustling of blankets from a nearby tent shook him from his reflections and he set out to the fire pit. Gathering some wood, he grabbed some of his matches and lit a pile of kindling. Getting out his portable refrigerator, he waited for whomever it was that snorted to get up and tell him what to do. Minda's tent flap opened and she came out wearing a fur jacket like Hewitt, but, despite the hood, it was obvious that her brown hair was a mess.
“What do you want to eat?” Hewitt asked her, pointing to the refrigerator. “I brought some milk and orange juice.” He opened the top part of the refrigerator and gestured to some ice. “There is also ice… even though I doubt we’ll need it. I only brought it because last time I was here I found a need for ice, despite the temperatures.” Smiling, he closed the freezer.
“I’ll just have some fish,” she said, eyes landing on some of the fish they had caught the day before. Grinning widely, she continued, “I think I’ll have some orange juice as well, but I have to pass on the ice.” She then quickly speared one of the fish and began cooking it over the open flame. Hewitt followed the action briskly and began to prepare it as well.
Another rustling of sheets showed that Odakota had woken, and his dark face was barely visible through a fuzzy fur coat’s hood. Without a word, he took a fish for himself and began roasting it. In complete silence the group baked their salmon, ate, and cleaned up their mess.
Finally Minda broke the silence. “Well, I guess we should go to the cave now.” She sighed, thinking about the possible outcomes of what they were to see. She quickly took her boots and began to slip them on her heavily socked feet. Carefully she avoided the blades that were on the bottom of the boot as she began lacing it up to about her calf. Odakota had said that the blades were used to find a grip on the ground, since sometimes the ground was so frozen over that it was almost complete ice. Sort of like extreme soccer cleats, she thought. Standing up, she began trekking up the hill to the cave’s opening. She could hear the crunching of snow as the others followed her up the foothill. Flicking on her flashlight, she started advancing into the cavern, and gasped as she saw what was left of Nash. Scavengers had taken bites out of the carcass, so it was almost impossible to tell what had caused his death. Behind her she heard two more gasps as the others saw her finding. Deftly Minda took her gloved hands and began probing the body.
As she had become accustomed to, she began talking to herself about her discoveries. “Hmm… He probably died at least three days ago, considering the amount of frostbite and scavenger damage there is. I’m guessing about a week or so… Oh!” she exclaimed, noticing the surrounding items. His tent wasn’t up yet, but there were remains of a fire. The strange thing, however, was that there was a puddle of frozen water next to the ashes of the fire. Hmm… Maybe he put the fire out before he was killed, she thought, pondering the strange puddle. Going back to the corpse, she dismissed all the bites and the frostbite as happening after the initial attack. A horizontal gash across his torso instantly drew her attention. It seemed to begin at the left shoulder, and it ran down to his right side. At the shoulder it was deep enough to expose his shoulder blade, but it seemed to get shallower the farther it went. It was deep enough to see his heart, lungs, and ribs, so it was obvious that it was a fatal blow. The strange thing was that ice seemed to line the mouth of the laceration. Around the cave there were many scratches that dug into the ground. So, whoever did this probably was wearing these boots, or ones like them, she thought, remembering that Odakota had given them the boots. “Interesting,” she said, staring at the signs of the killer.
“I don’t think it happened long ago,” Hewitt said, crouching down next to her. “At least, I don’t think it happened when I was here a week ago.” When Minda looked at him, he shrugged. “I was brought here last week to help look for my brother.” Nodding, Minda went back to pondering the subtle hints that were sitting in front of her.
“Okay,” she said, getting up and rubbing her knees to regain some warmth from kneeling on the cold ground. “I guess that’s all I can do here. We should bring him back for a burial. Hewitt, can you please get the stretcher?” Hewitt sighed and a few minutes later had the stretcher in tow. They all helped lower the cadaver onto the frame and carefully brought it to camp. Minda quickly paged the airport to send a helicopter to get to Juneau, which was where the man had lived. The helicopter arrived in about ten minutes, which gave them just enough time to pack up camp.
During the journey Minda thought about who could have killed Nash, and, right before she got to the airport, she figured it out. Once the body was taken to his family, the group of three was taken to the police office.
“Did Terrian kill him like we thought?” the chief asked, turning to Minda. He held a pen and a notebook to jot down notes just in case.
“No,” Minda took a seat in front of the officer, and crossed her legs. “It wasn’t Terrian.” She folded her hands and looked at the cop calmly.
Staring at her impatiently, he began to tap his foot on the floor. “Then who was it? Was it another person? Do you even know who it was?”
“It was Hewitt," she said simply. Hewitt's eyes widened as two officers burst into the room, quickly handcuffing him.
“How’d you figure that out?” the sheriff asked, intrigued. He had grabbed his pen and looked eager to be able to write something about the murder.
“Well, considering the evidence, it was obvious that Nash was killed with an icicle. This quickly eliminates Terrian, since he has only killed with bullets and has left self-evident clues at each crime scene. It’s sort of easy to figure that out, considering he didn’t even get into college. At the scene I also saw that there were marks on the frozen earth that suggest the bladed boots that we had to wear to keep from slipping. The only ones that had those were the three of us. Nash didn’t even have a pair. Also, Hewitt was the only one that had a freezer with him, which would be a perfect way to make a sharp icicle and hide it. Hewitt also said that he had been at the scene a week earlier, which makes the time frame a match to when Nash was killed.” She sipped her coffee casually, watching as the pen in front of her zoomed across the page.
“Well, I really don’t know how to thank you.” He said, getting up and shaking her hand firmly. “But it was really too bad that you didn’t get a chance to catch Terrian… But at least you caught an equally dangerous criminal.”