The Cold (An Easy English Story): Part 9
Priya holds my hand with one of hers while she drives. The streets are as silent as ice.
After we arrive at the mall, I tell Priya, “Wait here. If I don’t come back in an hour, call the police.”
“What are you talking about?” she asks. “I’m coming with you.”
My eyes fill with tears. They sting. “Thank you,” I whisper.
Priya and I walk up to the mall’s main entrance. Of course, the mall is locked at 2 a.m., but we wanted to try. “Let’s try the back entrance,” Priya says. We walk around to the back of the cafe, near the trash. That door is of course locked, too.
I begin to shiver with worry. What if Dad is in the freezer in that cafe? What if he is slowly dying, and I can’t get through the door?
I walk around the mall, trying every door to see if someone forgot to lock it. Priya stays by the cafe, pressing different numbers on the lock. Maybe she can guess the password.
We try to get in the mall for an hour, and it does not work. My fingers are frozen, and my heart is heavy. I begin to say, “Let’s go home,” but hear an engine. It’s getting louder. Priya and I hide behind the bushes next to the cafe entrance. A red light shines through the leaves and gets brighter.
A large, white truck is backing up right next to the cafe.
The driver steps down from the truck and throws open the back door. Three more men climb out. They are wearing medical masks and gloves. The driver drops his keys, and another man picks it up and throws it gently toward the driver. They laugh.
Priya and I crouch lower. The men begin unlocking the door. But it is not the cafe door. It is the door next to the cafe.
After a few minutes, the men come out, pushing a large metal box on a cart. They lift it into the truck. They go back inside and get another box. And another. And another. They stack the boxes on top of each other, like coffins. One of the men sits down on the back of the truck, tired and breathing heavily. He says, “I wish I were them now,” and the other men laugh.
The three men climb into the back of the truck, the same as before, and the driver shuts the door. Priya and I look at each other and nod. It looks like they have ice bodies. We have to follow them.
When the truck begins driving away, Priya and I run to the other side of the mall and jump in her car. The truck goes down a long road around the mall. Priya keeps her car’s headlights off and follows them. When the truck gets on the highway, Priya turns on her lights and slows down. “I want to get farther from them,” she says. “They can’t know we’re following them.”
There are sadly a lot of trucks on the road in the early morning. Priya changes lanes on the highway. The white truck is always a quarter mile ahead. After 20 minutes, the truck turns off the highway. Priya and I follow.
We drive for 30 more minutes. The rushing sound of the highway grows quiet. We drive past cow fields. Their eyes shine under our car light.
Finally, we reach a large building. It is gray and has no windows. There is one entrance for people and one entrance for trucks. Neither entrance has a sign. The truck parks next to the big entrance. The driver gets out, opens the door, and drives the truck inside. The door closes with a loud bang behind them. Priya and I drive past the building. We don’t want them to think that we are following them. We stop the car down the road, behind a wall.
Priya and I sit quietly. Then Priya claps her hands together. “I don’t care if we get in trouble. It’s time to call the police.”
I nod and take out my phone. My hand shakes. A woman with a calm voice answers. “911, what’s your emergency?” I tell her about the truck and the metal boxes. I even tell her about the ice that I saw in the old cafe. I hear the woman typing my report down. She then says, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but fifteen people called us today. They all said that they can help find the ice bodies. I know you want to help, but our police are so busy.” She sighs. “But I’ll send a police officer to see you. He’ll be there in about half an hour. You’re pretty far away from the station.”
In half an hour, Dad could be dead. If he is still alive…
I turn to Priya. “I don’t want you to get hurt, and this is about my dad, so it’s my responsibility. I’m going to that building before the police get here.”
“Ari,” Priya grabs my hand. She is adventurous, but I know that she is scared now. Her cold fingers squeeze my palm. “Those boxes… I think they’re coffins. If your dad is in there…” She shivers.
“I might see his dead body.” I finish Priya’s sentence.
“Why don’t we wait for the police? They have guns, and they can ask them to open the boxes. They can save your dad better than you can,” Priya whispers, “If he’s alive.”
I put my head in my hands and wait to hear the police sirens.
Fun for Fluency! 