Whatever After #6: Cold as Ice (3 page)

The top of the mountain.

Thanks, Prince. Thanks a lot.

L
et’s go, let’s go!” Jonah urges as we try to hike up the snowy hill. The mountain is packed with evergreen trees. It feels like a maze. A snowy maze on a mountain. At least it stopped snowing.

“This would be a lot easier in a chairlift,” I pant.

“You can do it!” he says. Jonah takes wall-climbing lessons on the weekends. I do not. You might think that climbing lessons wouldn’t make a difference in this situation, since we are climbing a snowy mountain and not a wall, but it does.

I am not so good at it. Plus, my legs are half-numb.

“Step with your heel,” he says.

“I am trying to, Jonah. But I’m wearing socks! And anyway, what does that even mean to
step with my heel
? What else would I be stepping with?”

“You should have worn boots,” he says. “Or slippers.”

I narrow my eyes. Then I bend down, pack a snowball in my very cold and slightly stiff fingers, and throw it at the back of his head.

Bull’s-eye!

“Hey!” Jonah cries.

I can’t help giggling. “Sorry! It was an accident! My limbs aren’t working correctly in this cold.”

“Oh yeah?” Jonah laughs. He brushes the snow off his shoulders and then runs ahead until I can’t see him.

“Don’t you dare, Jonah!” I yell.

He doesn’t answer.

I crouch down and pack another snowball. My fingers are freezing, but it will be worth it when I win this snowball fight. “I’m ready for you!” I yell. I cautiously creep ahead.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Noth —

A huge snowball comes soaring toward me like a big white, scary football. I duck and fling the snowball in my hand.

Jonah’s snowball lands on the ground beside me.

“Missed me, missed me!” I holler.

“Abby!” Jonah says. “You hit someone in the shoulder!”

“You, I hope!” I cackle.

He comes running toward me. “No. You hit a kid!”

“What?” I ask. “Who?”

I look around. We’ve made it to the top of the mountain, I see. And a kid is standing there, and he has a dusting of snow on his shoulder. He’s about my age, with shaggy light brown hair and a pale face. He’s wearing gray pants, boots (which make me very jealous), a navy sweater, and a green scarf. And gloves. Navy gloves. Wonderful, warm, navy gloves. I’m even more jealous of those than I am of his boots. It’s all I can do not to rip them right off him. Instead, I force myself to not act like a lunatic and to apologize.

“Hi there,” I say to him. “I’m so sorry I hit you with my snowball. That was meant for my brother!”

He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he’s picking branches off the ground.

Is he going to try and poke me with one?

“I really am sorry,” I say.

Instead of answering, the boy picks up another branch and starts walking away.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jonah asks me.

I grimace. “I hope I didn’t hit him in the head and give him a concussion. Excuse me?” I say to the boy. “Are you okay?”

This time, the boy looks back toward us. But instead of looking
at
us, it’s like he’s looking
through
us.

“He has zombie eyes,” Jonah whispers, his voice trembling with excitement.

The boy totally does have zombie eyes. The irises are green, but his pupils aren’t black. They’re white. It’s very creepy.

“Flowers,” the boy says, but then he continues walking away from us.

“Huh?” I ask. “Did he say
flowers
? There are no flowers in the middle of the winter.”

“Not true,” Jonah says. “There are hellebores.”

“Huh?”

“Hellebores! It’s a type of flower! And also phlox! We learned about them in school.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true!”

“If you say so, Jonah,” I say, and look ahead to see the boy still walking. “Maybe he said
follow
, not
flower
. Maybe he meant we should follow him?”

Cautiously, we follow the boy around the trees. And then past the last tree and into a clearing. I close my eyes as the sunlight kisses my face and warms me instantly.

Ahhh. Much better.

“Wow,” says Jonah. “Look at that.”

I flick my eyes open.

Oh, wow.

Wow, wow, wow.

We
are
in the story
The Snow Queen
.

I know this because right in front of us is the ice castle.

It’s not a castle exactly. It looks more like a really wide and tall igloo. The walls are built of tiny ice bricks that glitter like diamonds in the sunlight. The roof is flat, though, with a railing made of icicles.

“Whoa. This is the coolest place ever,” Jonah says.

The mystery boy does not seem fazed by the igloo castle. He walks right through the snowy yard and through the ice-coated doors.

“Why did he go inside with a bunch of sticks?” I wonder aloud.

“Maybe he’s building a fire,” Jonah says. “It must be cold in there. No. Wait! I bet they’re arms!”

“Huh?”

“Snowmen arms! Look up on the roof!”

I look up on the roof. Standing on it are two fully built snowmen with hats, carrots for noses, coal for eyes, and branches for arms. There’s another in-process snowman that has a nose and a hat but no arms.

“And look there,” Jonah adds, pointing over to the side of the yard. There are three other snowmen, a small snow fort, and impressions in the yard that look like snow angels. “This kid must spend a lot of time playing in the snow.”

I gasp. “Jonah! I know who that kid is. It must be Kai!”

“Who?”

“The boy! From the story. Gerda’s friend! The one the Snow Queen put under her spell. Didn’t he seem like he was under a spell?”

“Definitely,” Jonah says. “A zombie spell. A snowman-making zombie spell.”

Then we hear it again.

Ruff! Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!

My heart jumps. Prince’s bark! It sounds much closer now.

“Where’s that coming from?” I ask.

Ruff!

I look up once more.

It’s Prince! He’s on the roof! He charges toward the railing, knocking over one of the snowmen as he goes.

I’ve never been happier to see his little furry brown body. And he sees us! He’s barking at us!

“Hi, Prince, hi!” I call out, hopping on my tiptoes so I can see him better.

“Can you jump down?” Jonah calls up to him.

“I think it’s too far,” I say. It’s about two stories up. “Don’t jump down!” I yell. “We’ll come and get you, Prince. We love you!”

Ruff, ruff!

Suddenly, a woman — well, more like a teenager — rises onto the roof beside Prince. Her hair is silver, long, and curly, her eyes are ice blue, and she’s wearing a long white dress and a white fur cloak. Her skin sparkles like it’s covered in body glitter.

My breath catches in my throat.

She’s the Snow Queen. She has to be. I can’t take my eyes off her. Even though she’s the queen of cold, she’s as mesmerizing as fire.

“Stop making such a racket, you mutt,” she says to Prince, her voice as cold as ice.

Her words send a pulse of fear through my entire body. Jonah slinks behind me.

“Is that Elsa?” Jonah asks.

“That is
not
Elsa,” I say softly. This snow queen is terrifying. “Where did she come from?” I wonder out loud. “Did she just magically appear?” Kai pops up onto the roof next, holding the sticks in his hand. He inserts them into the snowman that was missing arms. “Did he just appear, too?” I ask.

“No, they both came up a staircase in the middle of the roof. It’s behind Prince.”

Aha.

Ruff, ruff, ruff, ruff!
Prince calls to us. He’s jumping up and down. Exactly like he does when we get home from school. His whole body is trembling with excitement.

“Stop that yapping immediately,” the Snow Queen tells him, “or you’ll regret it.”

“Oh, no,” I murmur. It feels like the moment before a storm. The air gets heavy and dark. Something awful is about to happen, I know it.

Jonah is trying to motion with his hands for Prince to be quiet, but instead of listening, our puppy just wags his tail harder and barks even louder.

The Snow Queen steps closer to Prince. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she says. Then she leans toward him and puckers her lips. What is she doing?

“Prince!” I yell. “Run, Prince, run!”

With her lips all rounded, the Snow Queen looks like she’s blowing Prince a kiss. But it’s not a kiss. I can actually see the air that comes out of her mouth. It’s like steam from a kettle. A tiny white tornado.

Prince lifts his paws and starts to run.

The kiss hits him, and he slows down, looking dazed. The Snow Queen puckers up again and another tornado shoots out of her mouth.

“I’m scared,” Jonah says, his voice trembling.

“Prince!” I yell again.

A sad sound escapes Prince’s doggie mouth and then he freezes in mid-motion. He solidifies in place. One paw up about to take a step, his tail still on high alert. His fur gets a white glaze all over. He looks like a dog who’s been locked in a freezer for too long. He looks like he has freezer burn. He looks —

I gasp. I feel a stab in my heart.

He looks frozen.

The Snow Queen just froze my dog.

N
o!” Jonah and I both scream. “No, no, no!”

I’m too shocked to move.

But Jonah starts running toward the igloo castle. Then he slips and falls.

My heart pounds as I try to help him up.

“She hurt our dog!” Jonah calls out. “She turned him into a Popsicle! No, a
dogsicle
!”

“Is he —” I can’t say it. He can’t be dead. He just
can’t
be. I feel a lump in my throat.

“His eyes are blinking. Look! He’s still alive. He’s just frozen! You froze our dog, you evil person, you!” Jonah waves his fist at the roof.

“Shhh! Jonah!” I hiss, squeezing his arm.

The Snow Queen takes a step toward the railing. “Come here, children. Come closer. Come play with Kai. Have you ever made a snow angel?”

Kai looks like he’s in a trance. He’s now lying on his back on the roof, flapping his arms, making, I’m guessing, a snow angel.

“She’s creepy,” Jonah whispers. “Do we have to go to her?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper back. “We need to save Prince, but I don’t want the Snow Queen to put us under her spell. Then we’re all in trouble.”

“Which spell? The zombie spell or the dogsicle one?”

“Either!”

“Come on, children,” the Snow Queen says. “Come closer.” She puckers up her lips.
“MM-WAH!”
The white tornado steam shoots from her lips. It’s heading right toward us.

I take Jonah’s hand and yank him back, away from the yard. “Run! She’s blowing us a magical kiss!”

Jonah pulls his hand away. “We can’t leave Prince!”

“We have to,” I say, feeling awful but knowing we don’t have a choice. “We’ll come back and get him when the Snow Queen isn’t here! In the original story, she’s always traveling! We’ll come back when she’s out of town.”

“But how will we know when she’s out of town?” Jonah demands.

More tornado steam is headed our way.

“I don’t know. But we’ve got to get out of here NOW. We have to run back down the mountain!” I yank Jonah’s arm, and we take off.

“Follow me!” Jonah shouts. “There’s a section with no trees! We’ll slide down. It’s a straight shot to the bottom! It’ll be faster.”

I follow him, my breath catching as I run. “Slide?” I ask, worried. “Like on a sled?”

“Yes!” he calls back, still running. “Except without the sled.”

“On what, then?”

“On our stomachs!”

“No, no, no! We’ll break our noses!”

We reach the clearing and hesitate at the edge. It looks steep. Very steep.

“Can we roll?” Jonah asks.

“I think it’s safer to go on our backs. Like a waterslide.”

Jonah nods, a gleam in his eye. “See you at the bottom! Race ya!” He takes three steps back and then runs and does a flying leap down the hill.

“Oh, boy.” I hope I don’t regret this. I quickly launch myself feetfirst.

I go fast.

The ice is hard against my back, and the momentum keeps pushing my head down, even though I want to sit up and see where I’m going. The wind, ice, and snow bite at my cheeks. I have to close my eyes because they start to burn from ice pellets. I wish I had goggles. I wish I had a helmet. I wish I had a toboggan.

“Don’t hit a tree. Don’t hit a tree,” I repeat to myself over and over like a mantra.

But I admit it. If I weren’t afraid of slamming into a tree, this would be kind of fun.

Jonah certainly thinks so. I can hear him yelling, “Wahoo!” far ahead of me.

“You’re almost there!” he calls out.

I wrench my eyes open.

This side of the mountain leads to a frozen lake at the bottom. A frozen lake I’m about to crash into.

I brace myself for impact.

“Yowza!” I scream as I slide, slide, slide across the lake, spinning like a top. When I eventually stop spinning, I try to sit up but feel dizzy.

I can’t see the Snow Queen or her scary breath anymore. Does that mean we lost her? I just hope we haven’t lost Prince, too. I try not to think about how we’re going to get back up that mountain.

Now where’s Jonah?

I spot him a few hundred feet away on the other side of the lake.

“That was amazing,” he says as he glides toward me.

“If you say so,” I reply.

All right, I’ll admit it. It was kind of amazing.

“So what do we do now?” he asks me, looking worried.

Good question. I look toward the mountain. “We have to get back up there to unfreeze Prince. But we have to wait until the Snow Queen leaves.”

“But how will we know when she leaves?” my brother persists.

“Let me think.” I push myself up off the ice. In all the body-sledding excitement, I forgot about the cold, but now that I’m standing still, I feel the chill all over my body. I rub my hands against my fleece sweatshirt. I wish I was wearing two fleece sweatshirts. Or maybe a fleece snowsuit.

“Maybe we wait a few hours and then climb back up?” Jonah suggests.

“I guess so,” I say. “Although a heated helicopter would be nice.”

His eyes widen. “I would be an amazing helicopter pilot.”

I snort. “I’m sure you would, Jonah. But seriously, I don’t know how long we can stay out here dressed the way we are. If the sun goes down, we’re going to be in trouble. We’ll freeze.”

Jonah glances at his watch. “My watch says it’s one. How many hours do you think have passed since we got here?”

The sun is lower now. “It feels like around three, right?”

He nods. “So an hour at home is about three hours here?”

“Seems right,” I say. I try to calm my nerves. We’ve been gone for only an hour. My parents are still asleep. We’ll get home before they wake up. They won’t find out we broke our promise.

I hesitate. “Hey, Jonah? Maybe I should wear the watch. For safekeeping.”

He clutches his wrist protectively. “No way! It’s my Spider-Man watch, and I want to wear it! I’ll keep it safe. I swear.”

“As safe as you kept Dad’s iPhone? Or Mom’s laptop? Or your Karate Crocs game?”

In the last month, Jonah left Dad’s iPhone on the
corner
of a counter, where it fell off and shattered. Then he somehow and for some unknown reason removed the G and K keys from Mom’s keyboard. And he dropped his Karate Crocs game in the toilet.

He is not good with electronics.

“I’ll be careful,” he says. “Hey! Wanna go skating while we wait for the Snow Queen to leave?”

“Did you sneak skates through the mirror, too?”

“No. I wish. I meant pretend skating. Like this.” He attempts to skate across the ice in his slippers. “Or we should play hockey!” He pretends to run as if he’s chasing a puck. He ends up tripping and landing elbows-down on the ice.

That’s when I hear it.

A loud crack.

Oh, no. I do not like the sound of cracks. Cracks do not mean good things. Not for bones. Or for mirrors. Or for frozen lakes.

“Jonah? What was that?”

Jonah is staying perfectly still.

The ice is splintering around him.

“Abby,” he says slowly. “I think we have a problem.”

“No kidding,” I reply.

“What do I do?” he squeaks.

I try not to panic. “Don’t move! I don’t want you to make it worse.”

“But if I don’t move, how do I get off the lake that’s about to break?”

Good point. “Okay, maybe move. But can you move really, really slowly toward me?”

He stands up carefully. The ice holds.

“Now step toward me,” I say.

He takes one step. So far, so good.

I hold my breath.

He takes another step. Another.

Crack! Crack! Crack!
It sounds like popcorn popping. A spider-web of cracks spreads across the ice.

The cracks reach all the way to me.

Jonah and I lock eyes. Then …
crack!
The lake breaks, and both of us plunge into the frigid water.