Free Rook: Snowman by Graham Masterton

bleating and his eyes had rolled right back up into his head, so that only the whites were showing. The woman gave him a shot of ketamine to deaden the pain. Then she said to Jim, in a matter-of-fact tone, “I used to work in Chicago. I’ve seen this kind of thing before, people getting frozen to their car-door handles or their front doorknobs. I was walking on Michigan Avenue once and I went blind because my eyeballs had frozen. If somebody hadn’t pulled me into a shop doorway I could have lost my sight.”
    “So what are you telling me?”
    “I’m telling you that if the hot-water trick doesn’t get him free, we’re going to have to cut him free. The frostbite is spreading to his wrists already, look. I don’t know how this could happen, but we have to act fast.”
    “Jesus. But his hands —”
    “I’m sorry. We don’t have any alternatives.”
    Jim shouted, “Clarence! Is that hot water running yet?”
    “Yes, sir, Mr Rook! It’s flowing right now, maximum full top blast.”

    The woman paramedic examined Ray’s eyes, and took his pulse and his blood pressure and his respiratory rate.
    “His body temperature’s way below normal. His blood pressure’s dropping and he’s going into shock.”
    “Look,” said Jim. The blueish whiteness had spread up Ray’s wrists to his forearms now, and his hands were black, as if he were wearing gloves.
    “Where’s the goddamned fire department?” asked the Hispanic paramedic, impatiently.
    “Can’t you just saw this section of the handrail off?” Nestor suggested. “Just this section that he’s holding on to.”
    The woman shook her head. “At this kind of temperature, the hacksaw will probably freeze to the rail. But we could try it.”
    “Clarence!” called Jim. “Fetch that saw up here, will you?”
    But at that moment, with a loud rubbery bang, the hose connector burst away from the handrail, and the hose lashed from side to side like a cornered snake, spurting scalding-hot water in all directions. Several students were caught by the spray, and there were screams of pain and hysteria.
    “Pipe’s busted free, Mr Rook!” shouted Clarence. “It’s all blocked up inside of that handrail, blocked up with solid ice. Going to take something more than hot water to clear that out! Look!”
    Jim looked down, and saw thick, brownish slush dripping from the severed handrail, the consistency of marrowbone. The cold inside the handrail was so intense that the hot water from the hose had started to freeze, almost as soon as Clarence had connected it up.
    Ray suddenly sagged. The woman paramedic said, “Keep him upright! I don’t want him to tear his hands off!” Jim shifted around so that he could hold him under his armsand heft him up higher. The woman paramedic said, “He’s gone into arrest!” and the man opened up his first-aid box and picked out a hypodermic. With complete calmness, he filled it with adrenalin and passed it over to the woman. She lifted Ray’s sweatshirt and jabbed the needle directly between his skinny ribs, into his heart. He convulsed, and threw his head back, but his pulse started again, and he let out a thick, cackling breath, and then another.
    The woman paramedic checked his arms. The dead whiteness had reached almost up to his elbows, and the grayish black tinge of death was relentlessly following it, like Indian ink staining a blotter. She said, “I’m sorry about this. I don’t have any choice. The speed this frostbite is spreading, we have to get him free right now, right this minute.”
    The other paramedic turned to Jim. His face was smooth and his eyes were as placid as stones. “You have to look at it this way, sir. If his hands were trapped in a fire, you’d have to make the same decision. I can’t imagine how this handrail got so cold, but we have to release this boy or else we’ll be going to his funeral.”
    Jim nodded. “Okay. Go ahead. Just don’t let him suffer too much.”
    “He won’t suffer, sir.