A Memory of Zero Degrees

Chapter 9: The Hollowing (2)

Arthur stared at the number on the screen. It was more money than he had ever possessed at one time in his life. It was also, in the grand scheme of what he needed to build, woefully inadequate. A proper bunker, the kind that could withstand a multi year ice age, would cost ten times that amount. He needed to cut corners, bypass bureaucracy, and move faster than the dying world around him.

He reached for his phone. There were contacts he hadn't spoken to in years old associates from the construction projects he'd worked on with his foster father, a man who had built his modest fortune on concrete and steel. Arthur scrolled through the list, his thumb pausing over names that belonged to a past life.

Suppliers. Fabricators. Welders.

He started making calls.

The Voice of the Serpent

He was navigating a rented van through the mid afternoon traffic, heading toward an industrial supply depot on the outskirts of the city, when his phone buzzed against the dashboard mount. The screen lit up with a name that made his blood run cold not with fear, but with a frozen, crystalline rage that had been simmering beneath his calm exterior since the moment he woke up in his old bed.

Rivan.

Arthur's hands tightened on the steering wheel. The leather creaked under his grip, the stitching straining. He could feel the faint, ghostly echo of Rivan's blade tracing lines across his bare chest. He could hear, as clearly as if it were happening now, the sound of Sera's laughter mingling with the howl of the freezing wind.

Breathe.

The voice in his head was his own, but it was the voice of the man who had died in the snow. Cold. Patient. Utterly devoid of mercy.

You are not the same man they knew. Play the part. Let them believe the mask is still in place.

Arthur exhaled slowly, forcing the tension from his shoulders. He reached out and tapped the answer button, bringing the phone to his ear. When he spoke, his voice was warm, casual, laced with the easy familiarity of a lifelong friendship.

"Yo, Rivan. What's up, man?"

"Arthur! My man! Where the hell have you been hiding, brother?" Rivan's voice flooded through the speaker, rich and smooth, the voice of a man who had perfected the art of sounding like your best friend while secretly sharpening the knife behind his back. "Sera and I have been trying to reach you for two days. You fall off the face of the earth or something?"

Arthur's jaw tightened, but his voice remained light. "Nah, just been swamped. Got some new business ventures I'm trying to get off the ground. You know how it is."

"Business ventures? Look at you, Mr. Entrepreneur!" Rivan laughed, a sound that was meant to be disarming but now rang in Arthur's ears like the scrape of a blade on bone. "Listen, Sera and I are at the usual spot that café downtown with the good espresso. She's been asking about you non stop. Says she misses you. You should come by, have a drink with us. It's been too long, man. We miss our favorite third wheel."

Arthur's free hand, resting on the gear shift, curled into a fist. Favorite third wheel. He had been the third wheel in his own relationship. The provider. The fool who paid for their meals, who drove them places, who listened to Rivan's endless complaints about his dead end job while Sera gazed at Rivan with eyes that should have been reserved for her boyfriend.

"Wish I could. Seriously. But I'm buried right now. Rain check?"

"Yeah, yeah, of course. But hey don't be a stranger, okay? You're my brother, Arthur. My ride or die. You know I'd do anything for you, right? I mean that. Since college, man, you've been the one constant in my life. The one person I can always count on. I don't say it enough, but... I love you, man. You're family."

The words were honeyed poison. Arthur could almost see Rivan's face as he said them the earnest, slightly emotional expression he had perfected over years of manipulation. It was the same face he had worn when he convinced Arthur to co sign a lease on an apartment Rivan had no intention of paying for. The same face he had worn when he borrowed money for "emergencies" that never seemed to get repaid.

And now, Arthur could hear something else beneath Rivan's voice. A faint, rhythmic sound. The rustle of fabric. A soft, barely audible hitch of breath that wasn't Rivan's.

"I appreciate that,. Really," Arthur said, his voice steady. "You've always been a good friend."

"The best," Rivan corrected, and there was a smugness in his tone now, a self satisfaction that Arthur recognized all too well. "Anyway, hang on. Sera wants to say hi."

There was a shuffle, the sound of the phone being passed. And then her voice.

"Arthur? Hey, baby."