Part 1(Cold Death)

Syracuse, New York: Winter 2006

         The icy fingers of the outside air crept up the glass of the door, slowly fogging it over as it fought with the warmth from inside.  At this time of night there were no large crowds of bodies to release heat in combat against the winters embrace. 
         Jack shivered at the thought of having to leave the comfort of the warm interior of the building.  He still wondered why he ever left Miami.  There was happiness there, inviting warmth at all times.  The sun seemed to live there even at night when the lights of the street lamps, restaurants, and night clubs flooded the streets.  New York was so different, even in the summer it seemed cold, unfriendly.  How he wished he could return to his hometown and leave this frozen place behind.
         Shaking his head to rid himself of such unpleasant thoughts, Jack prepared to leave.  “Have a good one Bob,” He said turning to see the night watchman.
         All Jack got in response was a curt  “Hmph.”  Jack dismissed the rudeness of that of an old man more than past his time to retire, and stepped out of the building.
         The three layers of clothes wrapped around Jack’s body hardly kept the cold out.  It wrapped around him like a constrictor on its dinner.  Jack cursed himself for leaving his gloves in his car again.  They were essential to staying warm on the walk from his office building to the parking deck over a block away.  The top button on his trench coat had fallen off a day or so ago and he had to use one of his hands to keep the collar closed.  He constantly had to switch which hand was exposed to the cold, and which found solace in the warmth of his pocket to keep them from going numb.  A mental notepad opened in his mind and he began to record his to do list, at the top of which was to fix the button and to never leave his gloves in the car again.  Suddenly a sharp pain, as if being stung by a giant hornet, shot through the back of his neck.
         Legs buckled, frozen cement quickly rose to meet him.  Jack lay stunned, panic overtaking his brain.  The cold slipped away as thoughts rushed through his mind.  It was too cold for bugs and he had no allergies that he knew of.  What would cause a strong healthy man to collapse like this? 
         Jack reached for the back of his neck to see what had caused the problem.  Like a desert canyon in the rainy season, a flash flood of horror filled his mind.  His arms didn’t move.  He was paralyzed, why?  Was it fear?  Confusion?  Or something worse?
         His mouth opened to scream for help, but no sound escaped him.  Warm tentacle like fingers wrapped around his mouth, squeezing tight.  Darkness of confusion left as the sunrise of clarity filled the void, casting blood red light across Jack’s consciousness.  Those fingers were there for other purposes than to muffle any screams. 
         The world began to spin.  The view of the cement changed to that of the night sky.  The stars, however, were blocked out.  How he prayed to see those stars he took for granted other nights.  What he saw instead was a face, most importantly a set of coal black, emotionless eyes.  In the depths of these eyes Jack saw something that scared him more than his new found paralysis. Death.
         A force pressed down on Jack like none he had ever felt.  A weight on his chest no less than if a car had run him over.  His mouth opened as if to scream, but all that came out was a hot gust of breath.  Ribs cracked piercing the heart,  the body convulsed just once.  Just as the delicate white flakes of the winters first snow danced from the night sky, Jack Davis lay dead.