Hard Ice, Dead Hands

The frozen surface of Darkmoon Pond never melted. Even in the height of summer its black mirror face, overshadowed by an honour guard of dark pines, remained solid and cold. Big enough to be a lake, the townsfolk of nearby Pilgrim’s Rest, only spoke of it to warn others away from its icy shore. It was unnatural, they claimed: an abomination. No footpaths or hunting trails led to its paralysed waters; no maps marked its location. It was a dark secret that made people shudder when they thought of it, as if touched by its depths.

*

Sarah Mortimer thought little of the water as she drove along the winding forest road, the radio blaring out country music, her boyfriend Daryl reading a magazine in the passenger seat. Her father’s repeated and earnest warnings to not wander far from the family lodge had already slipped to the back of her mind as she thought of the wide summer that lay ahead.

“Looks like we’re almost there,” Daryl said, looking up from his magazine just in time to catch a glimpse of the weather-beaten ‘Welcome to Pilgrim’s Rest’ sign. “Didn’t your da’ say that this was the nearest town?”

“Mhm-hmm,” Sarah said, keeping her eyes on the road. “Hey, keep an eye out for a store or something. It’ll save us a trip later.”

The car slowed as they entered the town limits. Dilapidated New England colonial houses sat back from the road, watching them. All was quiet, even as they turned onto the main street.

“There,” Daryl said, pointing to a small convenience store with a fuel pump in the courtyard. Sarah flicked on the turn signal and pulled up.

“Can you fill up?” she asked, chucking the keys over to him. “I’ll get started buying food.”

The bell jingled shrilly as Sarah entered the store. She walked around the three small aisles, grabbing things almost at random: croissants, sliced ham, several bars of chocolate, a six-pack of beer, pasta. She smiled at the old lady behind the counter as she deposited everything in front of her.

“That’s quite a spread you’ve got there, sweetie,” the storekeeper said, a friendly twinkle in her eyes.

“Just stocking up,” Sarah said. “Can you add on the gas as well?”

“Sure thing.” There were more smiles from the grey-haired woman as she punched buttons on the register. “Is that your husband out there?”

“Oh,” Sarah said, trying not to be rude and laugh. “No, he’s just my boyfriend.”

“You’re betrothed to him?” The woman’s smile faded in an instant, her lips pursed.

“No,” Sarah said, confused for a moment by the old lady’s phrasing. “We’re still early days.”

“I see.” There was steel in the shopkeeper’s voice now. She began bagging Sarah’s goods up. “Are you staying in town?” The way the question was asked made Sarah feel as though the lady hoped the answer would be negative.

“Just passing through. We’re staying in my family’s lodge on the other side of town.”

“The Mortimer one?” There was suspicion and a little bit of fear in the woman’s voice now.

“Uh-huh. That’s the place.”

The old woman dropped her voice to an urgent whisper: “Whatever you do, do not go down to the pond. It’s an evil place.”

“Okay,” Sarah said, grabbing her bags. She was eager to get out of the little store and put some distance between her and the creepy shopkeeper.

“I mean it.” The woman’s hand flashed out, grasping Sarah’s wrist with surprising force. “Avoid that place as if it were your own grave.”

Sarah pulled herself free and marched out of the shop without another word.

“You can drive the last bit,” she told Daryl, throwing herself into the passenger seat. “Let’s get out of here.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah. Shopkeeper was just a bit weird, that’s all.”

Daryl shot a look at the store’s window as he drove off. The old woman was peering out through the glass, watching them.

*

Nostalgic memories of childhood summers flooded Sarah’s mind as Daryl parked the car outside the lodge. It was a beautiful spot, nestled inside a sunlit clearing, ringed with tall trees. Made of logs with a stone chimney, the lodge looked simple from the outside, but its spacious interior was luxuriously furnished. It had running water and its own generator. Originally a single storey, a second floor had been added by the previous owners, containing a master bedroom and en-suite. The whole scene was like something out of a postcard or film.

“What a place,” Daryl said as he got out of the car.

“Yeah, there are perks to dating me,” Sarah said. “Let’s get everything unloaded.”

While Daryl sorted out the food and explored the downstairs, Sarah busied herself with unpacking their clothes in the master bedroom. She had seldom spent time up there; it had always been her parents’ room when they had visited in her youth, so opening the door was almost like seeing it for the first time.

It was a homely space. The large bed was covered in quilts and throws, and paintings of wildlife scenes covered the walls. Sarah hardly noticed these things; her gaze was immediately drawn to the wide window on the far side of the room. She had never noticed how the pine trees parted, like stage curtains at the start of a show, drawing the eye down towards Darkmoon Pond. It transfixed her like a hypnotist’s watch, its frozen surface shimmering as the sun peeked in and out of high drifts of cloud. Sarah did not notice, but her breath slowed and her skin rose in goosepimples.

“Sarah?” Daryl clapped his hand on her shoulder, making her gasp.

“Huh?” She found it strangely difficult to turn away from the window.

“I’ve been calling you for ages. You zone out or something?”

“Oh. I guess I’m just wiped out from the trip.”

“Or spooked by that crazy old bat at the convenience store,” he joked. “Come on, let’s have a drink. A cool beer will sort you out.”

She followed him downstairs, but not before casting a longing, backwards glance at the dark face of the lake.

*

“Look what I found,” Daryl said, kneeling down to reach inside an old kitchen cupboard. Sarah sipped at her drink as he pulled out an ancient pair of ice skates. The leather of the boots was worn and faded, the blade orange with rust.

“Weird,” Sarah said. “We never skated when we came up here. There isn’t really anywhere to do it.” Even as she said it, her mind went to the water. She had a sudden urge to snatch the skates and run out into the forest. “Can I take a closer look?”

“Sure.” Daryl passed them over and picked up his own beer.

“Damn they’re old.” Sarah turned the old things over in her hands. “Ah, shit!” She dropped them as one of the blades nicked her thumb. “Sharper than they look.”

“You okay?”

“I’ll live.” She sucked the small pool of blood from her thumb. “I’ll go check the bathroom for a band-aid.”

*

They spent the evening drinking and eating before falling into the large, quilted bed not long after the summer sun reluctantly dipped below the horizon. Daryl passed out immediately, but Sarah found herself wide awake, her mind fixated on Darkmoon Pond. She could feel its perfect, frozen surface calling out to her through the night. With a sigh, she shut her eyes, and tried to think of nothing.

It only felt like a second had passed when she opened them to find herself on the shore, her bare feet crunching amongst the pebbles. There was a full moon overhead, its face reflected in the frozen ice, turning the pond into a massive, blind eye the colour of curdled cream. Sarah shuddered, her nightgown flapping around her in a shrill wind. Looking down, she noticed the ice skates beside her feet. She began to put them on.

Her first steps out onto the lake were nervous, tottering ones. She had never skated before, but the boots fitted perfectly, and before long she found herself gliding further and further out onto the ice. The moon hung overhead, its reflected face criss-crossed with slashes as Sarah moved back and forth. It was exhilarating. She had never felt such elation, such freedom. The ice sang beneath her feet as she arced towards the centre of the lake.

The moon passed behind a thick black cloud, its mirror image vanishing. Thrown into darkness, Sarah stumbled. Then, with a sickening crack, she fell, hitting the ice.

She had never felt such cold. The pond bit her, its frozen surface sticking to her skin. Moaning, she rolled onto her front, her ankle screaming in red pain, the rest of her body aching numbly. A pair of eyes stared up at her, looming through the ice.

Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. A second pair of eyes snapped open beside the first. Then a third. And a fourth. A sliver of moonlight cut through the clouds, illuminating the depths. A mass of bodies floated below her, their skin puffy and blue, their eyes maggot white. They shifted beneath her, a crawling swarm of bloated flesh. Frostbitten hands pressed against the bottom of the ice, broken nails scratching at black glass. Sarah felt tears escape her eyes and freeze halfway down her cheeks. She shivered, suddenly aware of the deathly cold that surrounded her. It was impossible to look away, like staring into a mirror that showed your own rotting reflection.

More dead eyes opened every instant. The water seethed with frozen death, every lost soul writhing against the others, pushing to get closer to the tiny island of warmth emanating from Sarah’s panicked heart. She tried to scream but found that her voice was frozen too. Darkmoon Pond let out a strange, hollow, echoing sound as the ice began to crack beneath her.

*

Daryl started awake.

“Hey, Sarah,” he said, rolling over. “Sarah?”

The curtains had been flung open, bleak moonlight drifting through. He peered out through the forest. Someone was down on the lake. With the moon reflected in the ice, the figure’s shadow looked like a fly drowning in a bowl of milk. An irrational terror gripped Daryl and he found himself racing down there, pulling his clothes on as he went.

The pair of ice skates lay abandoned on the pebble shoreline. Daryl examined them for a moment and then discarded them. The figure, who he knew had to be Sarah, was nowhere to be seen.

“Ah, shit,” he said, stepping out onto the ice, testing his weight. He cupped his hands either side of his mouth and began to call her name. He had only lost sight of the pond for a moment as he rushed down from the lodge; she had to be nearby.

The ice was perfectly smooth. No cracks marked its surface, no blade marks blemished the moon’s reflection. Daryl shuddered as he shuffled further out, arms held wide for balance.

He heard a muffled thunk come from below him. As he looked down, a scream escaped his mouth in a voice that he did not recognise as his own. Sarah was banging on the ice, huge bubbles of air pouring from her nose and mouth as she yelled to him for help. Before Daryl could react and start pounding on the frozen lake, a dead hand reached up from the hidden depths, and clamped down over Sarah’s mouth. More hands followed the first, grasping at her arms, pressing against her face, searching for an inch of flesh to hold. Daryl flung himself away, slipping and sliding as he ran towards the shore.

He left the lodge without packing, driving through Pilgrim’s Rest at double the speed limit. From her apartment above the convenience store, the old woman shuddered as she heard the engine, and began to quietly pray.