Enter Night 《Cliff Burton》

8

              I looked outside as the blizzard raging outside grew calmer, and the loud howl of the wind reduced to a whisper. There was still snow falling, and it was dark enough to need the house lights on, even though it was only slightly past 5:30.

              "Hey Mike, can you turn the lights on?" I looked at Michael who was still fiddling with my guitar. He was playing Stairway To Heaven. I rolled my eyes. "I bet you can't play Smoke On The Water," I said. He looked up and laughed. "And you can't play Seven Nation Army huh?" He smirked, getting up and walking towards the switch. I chuckled.

              I heard Michael flick the switch on, but the room remained dark. He opened my bedroom window and checked outside, then groaned.

"This happens every damn time there's a snow storm!" He shut the window, frustrated.

"Power shortage?" I asked, knowing the answer. He nodded sadly. I swore.

               At that moment, Michael's phone began to ring. He fumbled with it, a bit startled, and picked it up. "Hello? Mom?"
I stared at him as his face went from confusion to frustration again. He frowned and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, mom."

             "What's wrong?" I asked as he hung up. He sat back down on my bed. "My mom wants me to come home. She's all alone there with the power out."

I sighed. "Go ahead then." He frowned. "In this snow?"

"You can have my coat," I offered. "And you have your jacket as well."

"Can I have mittens, actually?"

"Yeah, but I usually wear gloves so I don't think I have mittens," I said, getting up and opening my wardrobe. "Throw some light in here," I called at Michael who was still holding his phone. He came over and turned its flashlight on. I shuffled through the drawer I opened.

              I pulled out a pair of Pooh Bear mittens I wore when I was 8. I smirked. "Here ya go," I said, throwing them at him. He laughed. "No way I'm wearing that." He threw them back at me. "They're too small for me anyway."

"Those are the only mittens I have," I shrugged.

"Just gimme a glove," He said. I gave him a new leather glove I bought from my allowance money the week before. He quickly put them on, and headed towards the bedroom door.

              "Aw shit," Michael muttered as he picked up his jacket. It took me a moment to notice it was dripping wet. All the snow that was on it when he took it off earlier that evening had melted in the warmth of the house. No doubt it would freeze solid the moment it would be brought outside.

"Well," I sighed, raising my eyebrows. "Looks like you're gonna have to be wearing my jacket too."

*****

Michael smiled at her gratefully as he put Ronnie's jacket on. It was padded on the inside, so it was much warmer than his wet one. He sighed against the sweet warmth, hugging the jacket closer to his body.

              Despite the comfort he felt, he was still anxious. Anxious and determined to find out what was up with his friend. Ronnie waved at him goodbye, and shut the door.

He smiled as an idea suddenly popped into his mind.

              He took out his phone, and dialled his mother's number. The phone rang just once before she picked it up. "Mike, are you coming?"

"Yeah, mom, but I might be a little late. There's so much snow."

"Be careful, okay?" His mother said as she hung up.

              Instead of walking directly home, he walked around Ronnie's house to the back, to peek at her bedroom. He supposed this was an extremely creepy thing to do, but he didn't have a choice. There was something Ronnie was unwillingly hiding from him, and it was up to him to find out.

                He thought about Ronnie's statement about his life - and hers - being in danger. Bullshit, he thought. This was just a small county in Sweden, not a town in a typical American city. He'd read enough books to know that those that say don't do, and those that do don't say.

They never did, did they? Part of him wasn't sure, but his determination overruled his fear.

                When he neared her window, he heard voices coming from inside. Ronnie. Talking. He placed one ear next to the wall.

"Yes mom... no, mom..."

He sighed. She was talking to her mother. He was just about to leave when he heard a new voice.

"Ronnie."

              Immediately, Michael placed his ear firmly back on the wall.

That didn't sound like Ronnie's father, but it certainly was a man's voice. It sounded like a voice he heard a lot, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

              He suddenly realized this voice matched the other voice he thought he heard earlier that evening. So someone else is in the house, he thought.

He knew that wasn't why it sounded familiar, however. There was something else he couldn't put his finger on.

              What the hell is Ronnie doing in there with a guy anyway? He wondered, pressing his ear harder on to the wall. He shuffled a little closer to the window.

"Is he gone?" He heard that same male voice ask. Ronnie muttered a yes.

              Michael frowned. There was something controlling about that voice that rubbed him the wrong way. He kept listening.

"Good. But I need to check for myself," Whoever the voice belonged to said. Michael felt a shiver run down his spine, and it wasn't because of the bitter cold of the mild snowstorm that was still going on. He wrapped Ronnie's jacket tighter around his body, and retreated away from her window to hide behind a large pine tree.

               He felt an unusually chilly breeze engulf him, and shivered. He wished the jacket had a mini radiator installed in it.

After a few agonizing moments, the breeze was gone. The temperature rose up slightly once more.

              Michael waited a few minutes before tip toeing - as much as he could through the snow - back to his original position outside Ronnie's window. He could hear Ronnie playing The Call Of Ktulu again.

For a person still learning that riff, she was damn good.

Then something occurred to him. What if that was the man who was with her?

             He almost slapped himself for not realizing it earlier - of course. This was the man who was threatening her into not telling anyone about whatever the hell was going on.

He stopped to wonder again; did he know who he was? Why the hell is his voice so familiar?

              Before Michael could think further about this, the wind speed picked up again. He could hear the howl of all the trees - or what remained of the trees - around him.

The storm was loud enough to drown out any sound that came from Ronnie's bedroom, so he decided eavesdropping was pointless. He walked silently onto the road, before taking off and running his way home, trying to get there before it began snowing. He didn't want to soak up Ronnie's jacket.

                So many questions still remained. Who was threatening his friend, and why? How come his voice sounded so familiar?

He would find out. He knew he would.  Once he set his mind on something, there was no stopping Michael Kjellberg.