Born In Ice

Brock opened the door. A blast of cold air whooshed out. The faint smell of death washed over him filling him with dread. He staggered back for a moment. The first thing he noticed was the child’s seat in the back. Empty. He drew near again and saw the driver’s seat was reclined. A body lay curled on its side holding a bundle close.

His voice gruff, he called, “Bring us a light. Luke, open the doors on the other side.”
Digger held the light as Brock leaned in to look at the bowed figure on the seat. From the person’s figure and profile, there was no denying the delicate features beneath the mask belonged to a woman. She was dressed from head to toe in a silvery grey snowsuit with fur-trimmed matching boots. Fur as soft and as gray as a dove’s wing edged her parka making her appear even more ethereal. Dark lashes brushed her face covering, similar to a ski mask, made with cut-outs for her eyes, nose, and mouth.

He carefully pulled the blanket away from the bundle and groaned at the mummified features of what had once been a child. Oh, God, no. Not a baby.