Free A Cold White Fear by R.J. Harlick

later.
    â€œAuntie, he’s got a gun,” Jid warned.
    â€œSo I heard. So we won’t do anything to make him want to use it, will we?”
    â€œNope, he made me come with him. I didn’t get to Will.”
    Worried he would say more, I asked, “How’s Shoni doing?”
    â€œWill, who he?” came the demand.
    â€œA friend. What are you doing with the boy?” I inserted my feet back into the snowshoes.
    â€œHe yours?”
    I wanted to say yes, but was afraid the guy would use it to his advantage. “The son of a friend. Let him go. His mother will be getting worried.”
    â€œI not stupid. He tell his mother about me.”
    â€œI won’t, honest,” Jid replied.
    â€œI no trust you, not after you bite me and try to run away. It fuckin’ cold. We go to house.”
    As an added incentive he shone the light on his gun, a menacing black revolver of the kind I was used to seeing on TV and not pointed at me.
    â€œI need to get the puppy back in the pack.” I pulled it down from the branch.
    â€œI no care. Move.”
    â€œI can hold Shoni, Auntie. She’s gone to sleep,” Jid said.
    â€œLet me know when she gets too heavy, and I’ll take over.” I slung the pack onto my back.
    â€œYou go first, woman, and then boy. No tricks or I shoot.” To emphasize the point, he waved his gun at both of us.
    I wasn’t particularly keen on returning to my house. I had no idea of the kind of reception I would receive from the tattooed man, but I doubted it would be friendly. However, with a handgun aimed at our backs, we had no choice but to walk back.
    As we moved away from the trees and into the openness of the road, I noticed that the intensity of the snow and wind had lessened, making it easier to see with the headlamp. Framed by the high banks of ploughed snow, the lane was a smooth plane except for the faint trench left by my other unwanted visitors. I followed it, hoping it would provide firmer traction for Jid.
    Half expecting to run into Professor and Larry, I kept my eye out for a dot of light coming toward us. I wasn’t certain which would be worse, meeting up with them on the road or back at my place.
    â€œHow far away the house?” the man rasped between gasps.
    Good. Pushing snowshoes through the snow was taking its toll. Maybe he’d collapse from a heart attack.
    â€œAbout half a kilometre.”
    â€œThe Injun say you an old lady.”
    â€œShe was my great-aunt.”
    â€œYou seen my buddies? They at the house?”
    â€œWhy my house? There are better places to hide out.”
    â€œInjun’s idea. Say old lady live alone. No family. No friends.” He paused. “I think you were at house. So what you doing here? You run away?”
    Big mistake letting on I knew about his friends. “Larry’s the man’s name. Call him that. He’s hurt badly and will die without medical attention. I was going to get a doctor.”
    â€œI don’t believe you. You can phone.”
    â€œThe phone’s not working. Let us go, so we can get the help Larry needs to survive.”
    He spat. “I don’t care if he die. He not important. No, you go after police. Now move.”
    â€œAre you guys bank robbers?” I figured I might as well find out who they were.
    He guffawed. “No, convicts. We escape from Joyceville.”
    â€œJoyceville?” I would’ve thought a maximum security prison like Millhaven would’ve been more appropriate.
    â€œThey move me there for good behaviour.” He laughed even louder. “Now go, or I shoot boy.”

SIXTEEN
    I went numb. Escaped prisoners had crossed my mind, but I’d rejected the idea, believing it too preposterous. Three Deer Point was too far away from the penitentiaries in Quebec and Ontario. Joyceville was located near Kingston, easily a five-hour drive away. So why in the world did they end up here?
    With the