Mr. Winter's Arc

Chapter 2 of 8

The barn doors stood open when Mr. Winter arrived. He'd watched the setup from across the square, timing his appearance for maximum effect. Inside, voices layered over music. Someone laughed too loud. He stepped through the entrance and scanned the crowd. She stood near the back corner, her head tilted toward the man beside her. Her new husband. Mr. Winter's hand moved to his coat pocket where the ring sat, the same one he'd carried that day. The platinum band felt cold even through the fabric. He'd meant to throw it away a dozen times but never did. Now he understood why — it was proof. Proof that kindness led to this. The husband said something and she smiled. That smile used to mean something different. Mr. Winter turned and walked straight to the control room at the barn's edge. The thermostat panel glowed blue in the dim space. A digital display showed the current temperature: minus twelve. Comfortable enough for the celebration. His fingers hovered over the controls. He could make them all suffer for this. Every person in that barn, every family at the festival. The cold would creep in slowly, then all at once. He pressed the down arrow and watched the numbers drop. Minus twenty. Minus thirty. Minus forty-five. The display locked at the new setting. Outside, the livestock trough near the barn entrance had already started to freeze over. Ice crept up the wooden sides in jagged formations. By morning, the whole festival ground would be uninhabitable. The celebration would end early. People would remember this day for how it hurt them. Mr. Winter walked past the trough without looking back. He'd made his choice. The ring stayed in his pocket, and the cold he'd set in motion was already spreading.