Blood So Cold

By Catherine Thomas

Welcome to Opine University, a charming old campus in the Midwest built alongside a beautiful river. Students come from everywhere to attend its hallowed halls. It attracted five young men, lifelong friends, who had been born into wealth and privilege. They weren't interested in learning, that was just something that had to happen to have access to the partying and girls. Boys who have anything they ever wanted and never heard the word no can get bored. And dare each other into some very bad things. Like murder.

A young woman walks into the life of one of these young men. She challenges him and he is fascinated. As the relationship develops, he begins to question his past lifestyle. Can her love save him from the evil he and his friends are planning? Find out in Blood So Cold, a new horror story from author Catherine Thomas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 10, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667853284

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Blood So Cold

Catherine Thomas

ISBN: 978-1-66785-328-4

© 2022. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Disclaimer

This story is not meant for people who are bothered by violence, offensive language, or vulgarity of any kind. It is not based on any factual event (or actual persons, living or dead), and if you are simple-minded and easily influenced, do not read this book to get any ideas. It is a work of fiction and not meant to be a life guide.

Contents

Halloween 2003

September 2003

September 2003

September 2003

Early August 2003

September 2003

October 2003

Halloween 2003

Chaos.

Screams.

Bloodstained creatures surround the entire area.

The drone of the idling tractor engine is overpowered by the sounds of steel piercing flesh and carving into bone.

He looks down and feels the warmth of the blood dripping from his hands. Blood mixes with the sweat on his face and slides into his gaping mouth. The taste goes unnoticed as he becomes aware of the still twitching appendage of a young woman under his foot. The rest of her body lay not far from him now. The warm, stagnant air carries the scent of fresh blood, sweat, and excrement of the lifeless scattered about. How long had this gone on? It feels like days to him.

He runs to the other side of the wagon where the sound of a young woman wailing hysterically has caught his attention. As he rounds the side of the wagon, his foot plunges into the lacerated abdomen of an unidentifiable body. He trips. As he falls, the entrails caught on his foot spew out of the abdomen, making a trail behind him as he slides across the blood-soaked grass beneath him.

Startled, he quickly pushes himself over onto his back to survey his situation. Glancing upward, even with all the horror surrounding him, he notices the clear, starlit sky and harvest moon, which otherwise would have made this an incredibly beautiful Halloween night.

Suddenly, the silhouette of a machete slices through his vision of the bright harvest moon; the reflection of the moonlight on the blade temporarily blinds him as his life begins to flash before his eyes. . . .

September 2003

Thomas walked across the courtyard between the oppressive, medieval structures that housed Opine University. He could still remember when these buildings impressed him and even gave him a glimmer of respect and pride for what they represented. That was four long years ago. Now, starting his fifth year of working towards a four-year degree, he had become hardened to their appeal. They jaded him, along with all the other mundane teachings he heard at the classes inside.

He looked up at the sunshine and the blue sky. It was a beautiful fall day—just another thing that did not impress him. It bored him to tears, and the only thing that kept him walking across the courtyard was the fact that when he got home, his friends and entertainment would be there waiting for him.

He felt the slight breeze blowing through his naturally curly sandy-brown hair. He was an attractive lean twenty-three-year-old, with light-blue eyes and a James Dean manner about him. The girls always wanted to take him in, comfort him, and ultimately change him, but one after another, they failed in the attempt and were left brokenhearted.

Thomas felt a poke in the pants from behind followed closely by, Hey, what’s up, man? He spun around quickly as his ass cheeks clenched shut.

What the fuck . . . ahhhhhhh, you little bitch, Thomas said as he delivered a quick punch to Adam’s gut.

Mind if I walk you home, pretty boy?

Not at all. As long as you keep your fingers away from my cornhole, you perv, Thomas’s hand still hovered in front of his backdoor to block any potential anal assault.

So, what’s going on tonight? Are we having that party or what?

Thomas rolled his eyes. You are such a fuckin’ stoner. It’s roommate-bonding night tonight.

Oh shit! That’s right! And it’s my turn to bring the fun. Fuck, I just finished smoking the last of my shit earlier today with Trudie. She said I could fuck her if I smoked her up.

Ass-clown. You better get some more shit before tonight or you’re gonna have to eat the smegma off everyone’s balls when you get home.

Yeah, yeah, I’m on it, you fat bitch, Adam muttered as he finished dialing on his cell phone. Hey, Paul. This is an emergency, man. I need some shit fast. Yeah? Sweet. Adam covered the mouthpiece. I’ll catch up with you later. He ran off.

Thomas nodded and walked away. Several seconds later, Adam’s voice was heard over the whistling of the breeze, You’re a fuckin’ lifesaver, man! Fuck yeah!!!

Thomas grinned knowing that only he and a few others could put up with a kid like that, let alone call him friend. Adam was a cocky wiry blonde, whose rough features and mannerisms caused most people to want nothing to do with him.

Thomas continued walking towards the house owned by the parents of one of his roommates. Why pay rent when you can just buy a place near campus for your kid to live in with his friends? Sell it later for a profit . . . it all works out for those with the money to do it. It was a large white two-story house with a deck overlooking the river, separate bedrooms for each guy in the house, a pool, a game room, a basement theater room—it added up to the perfect living situation for five young men who had grown up together, who had graduated high school together, and were now super-seniors at Opine University.

Seventh grade seemed so long ago for the young men as they finally approached their college graduation date. Yet, it was back then that their friendships truly cemented. It started as such a simple prank—one that any child of that age would be able to pull off. In this instance, something went wrong.

Ten years earlier

Jeremy was not one of them. He could never be one of them. In fact, Jeremy was no one at all. A boy. Specifically, a boy who happened to be the scapegoat and target for tween angst at the local middle school. He was picked on constantly and in return would bully peers who were physically smaller than he was. Coming from parents that could barely heat their house in the winter, Jeremy only wore hand-me-downs. He grew angry about never being able to fit into any social dynamic. So, when he was finally invited to hang out with the rich clique that Thomas ran with, he jumped at the chance.

Alright, Adam spoke softly to his friends as they saw Jeremy’s mom’s car approach. Thomas, you and Michael entertain Jeremy and set up camp in the field. The campfire will be the signal for Tony, Jake, and me.

The backfire from the exhaust was loud and clear and nicely punctuated the end of Adam’s sentence. The boys turned to see the rusty old El Camino stop and watched the smoke pour out of the driver’s-side window as Jeremy’s mother exhaled what was left of her cigarette. She casually flicked the butt out of her window and onto the driveway.

Only you can prevent forest fires. Thomas giggled as he quoted the famous bear.

Tony slapped the back of Thomas’s head and said, Ok, everyone, remember the plan?

The group of boys nodded and then divided. Thomas and Michael walked out of Adam’s front door and down the stairs to meet Jeremy. As they approached him, they could see his mother already half a block away.

Hey, Jer.

My name is Jeremy, Tom-ass.

Thomas, unamused, kept his composure. Sorry. Jeremy.

Where are the other guys?

Michael answered the query. They are already setting up camp in the field. We volunteered to wait until you arrived to bring you up there. Did you bring a sleeping bag?

Jeremy looked towards the ground as he answered, I brought some blankets from my bed and a pillow.

I think Adam has an extra sleeping bag if you need more padding, Thomas said as he motioned for Jeremy to follow. I don’t know how much sleep we will be getting tonight anyway.

Yeah, do you guys sleep by the cemetery a lot?

Oh, yeah. Sometimes we even break out the Ouija board to see if we can communicate with any of the ghosts here, Michael stated.

There are ghosts here? Have you actually seen them? Jeremy seemed cautious with the question as his eyes darted back and forth between Michael and Thomas.

Thomas took over where Michael had left off. Oh, yeah! Last week we summoned up a big guy who chased us around for hours! If that happens again, we found the best thing to do is split up. He can’t chase all of us at once.

You guys are joking.

Not at all, Michael replied as the boys continued to walk towards the campsite.

Michael and Thomas made eye contact with each other while they watched their new friend turn slightly pale. They knew that the first step to their plan had gone successfully. It was time to move on to phase two.

With the tent now erected, Michael finished pouring the diesel fuel onto the pile of wood positioned about 30 feet away from the tent. This was a common way for the boys to start their fires. There were many machines that were needed to handle the upkeep of a cemetery so diesel fuel was never in short supply.

Jeremy, Michael called out. Would you like to do the honors?

Jeremy peeked his head out from the tent and hollered back, Sure! With that he bounded quickly towards Michael. Michael tossed him a book of matches as he got close. The sun was almost completely set by now and Jeremy almost missed the catch.

Now be careful when you light that thing. It’s going to go up quickly!

Jeremy nodded at Michael’s suggestion and lit an individual match. Then, as he looked at both Thomas and Michael, he used that match to light the entire book. As the individual match heads burst into flames Jeremy tossed it into the pile of branches before him.

The fuel caught fire and lit up the darkening sky as the boys hooted and hollered, That a boy, Jeremy!

Tony, Adam, and Jake could not miss that signal as they lay in the wooded area next to the field. Their faces lit up as the flames from the bonfire licked the sky. They looked at each other and smiled. One by one their smiles disappeared under terrifying Halloween masks.

Thomas stopped yelling for a moment as a look of concern crossed his face. Wait, guys, did you hear that?

Hear what? Jeremy’s eyes began to dart around as he asked the question.

Michael played into the ruse. Thomas, you don’t think that he could still be here, do you? Shit! Thomas knew that swearing would have the most impact at this moment.

Thomas and Michael grew silent and began to look around. Jeremy said nothing and watched them. As he watched, the three shadowy figures approaching from the rear went completely unnoticed.

Thomas walked up close to one of the large monuments in the cemetery, let out a blood-curdling scream, and hurled himself behind the stone. Michael yelled and started to run to his aid. Jeremy stood motionless, terrified by what was happening around him. It was then that he felt a firm grip of fingers wrap around his arm. Jeremy panicked and began to flail. He caught glimpses of three different monsters as he stumbled backwards trying to escape.

Jake was the only one that tried running to catch Jeremy as he began to approach the fire, but his efforts only exacerbated the situation. Seeing one of the monsters run directly at him caused Jeremy to turn quickly and lose his footing, which resulted in a fatal mistake. One step after another led Jeremy closer to the raging fire. As he began to fall, he screamed. The flames temporarily parted from his mouth as he exhaled before they consumed his face.

The boys watched stunned as the burning body writhed in anguish. Not one of them ran for help. They were frozen with their eyes locked onto a body no bigger than any of theirs wriggling and then collapsing into the fire around him.

September 2003

Thomas’s mind wandered as he got closer to home. He thought about his father, Thomas Russell Sr., and decided his dad was truly pathetic. Sure, he had made a fortune in the trucking industry and worked very hard in the beginning, but now his dad sat back reaping the benefits of his employees’ hard work and tried to convince his son that hard work was necessary to get ahead and have what you want and need. Thomas agreed with getting everything you wanted in the world, but he could see by his father’s current example that it was better to get everything you wanted by someone else’s hard work. Occasionally, his dad would actually go down to the office, or pick up the phone to bitch someone out, but other than that, he did as he pleased and waited for the money to continue to pour in. His mother, Jean Catherine, had been raised in high society and normally wouldn’t have given someone like Thomas Sr. a second glance, but she was attracted to the handsome wild man back in the ’70s when they met, and the fact that her parents did not approve only encouraged her infatuation. After three years of marriage, she had begun to think she didn’t care for this living on love situation and that perhaps she had made a huge mistake. But it was then that her husband’s business started to become hugely successful, so it seemed she could have her man and get back to the wealthy lifestyle she had begun to miss. By the time Baby Thomas came into the picture, they were living very comfortably. Thomas Jr. never saw the working side of his father. He had been taught well by his mother that they deserved everything they had and the best of life was owed to them—it was as simple as that. Yes, Thomas agreed with her theory. After all, what good was his father’s hard work if not to make it possible for his son to avoid it?

He was coasting through college with a C average, fully aware that he could easily have earned As with the slightest effort. His major was English. Writing seemed like a wise career choice—he could go anywhere in the world and claim it was for research and maybe he would even write something once in a while. Everyone needs a hobby. If he looked legitimate about a writing career, his father would continue floating the money his way. Good life plan? Yes. Nevertheless, Thomas was not excited by it. It was just a scenario to rattle off to anyone who asked. The reality was that Thomas just did not care about anything or anyone, with one exception.

Nicole Russell, Thomas’s sister and three years his junior, had been living on the East Coast ever since she’d graduated from high school. She was playing the college scam just like her older brother, but her pursuit was fine art—another career that could allow one to slough and live off parents while claiming to be ambitious and working hard. Thomas was proud of her.

There was another reason Thomas was proud of his sister, and himself as well. The traumatic experience they shared in their youth would have made living a normal life impossible for most, but they had pulled through it, eventually. At one time, they had another sibling—Derek.

Sixteen years earlier

Derek was three years older than Thomas. Thomas had looked up to his big brother like no other. He followed him, idolized him, listened to every word he said and took it as gospel. Derek was popular. It wasn’t unusual for him to have all the boys in his third-grade class over to play at the same time. Thomas was never left out—Derek included him in the football games with the older boys, making Thomas the best player in his own age group by far.

September Saturdays were meant for football. All the boys gathered in the Russell front yard for the weekly game. Captains were named and teams chosen—little Nicole was playing in the leaves and occasionally watching her two older brothers when they were running with the football. She didn’t understand it but they seemed to be having fun.

It was time for the Werewolves team to punt the ball to the Transformers. Skip was their best punter, but this kick was bad. Kicked off the side of his foot, the football headed towards the road. Thomas was the closest to where the football was headed.

I’ve got it! he yelled excitedly as he ran as fast as he could, his eyes on the ball and his mind consumed with where it was headed so he would be there to catch it.

No, wait! Derek yelled when he saw a car speeding down the road. Thomas, stop!

Thomas was concentrating too hard and didn’t hear the warning shouted by his brother. Without a second thought, Derek sped to his brother’s aid. The Envoy was not slowing up; Derek was afraid he couldn’t get there in time. In the last seconds, he got to Thomas, grabbed him, and threw him out of the way, but there was no time to save himself.

Thomas was lying on the side of the road, hearing screeching brakes, a horn, and a loud thud behind him. Tears were running down his cheeks from the surprise of being thrown and the pain of his knees and hands being scraped badly from the pavement. He turned to look behind him and saw his brother in a pool of blood in front of the car. Thomas sat still, frozen at the unbelievably horrid sight of his brother dying . . . and it was his fault. How stupid could he be? He knew he shouldn’t run into the street; he was bad and now Derek was all bloody in the street. Thomas started to scream again and again . . . he had no other memories until six months later at the pediatric treatment center. A lot of nice grown-ups dressed in white would talk to him, telling him he was a good boy and nothing that happened on the September Saturday was his fault. He needed to believe it, but he didn’t. Thomas told them he did because it was what he thought they wanted to hear, and in a few weeks, he was able to go back home. All he had to do was take a tiny white pill every day to feel better. However, a tiny white pill could not replace a brother, and nothing or no one would ever convince Thomas it wasn’t his fault.

September 2003

Ducking quickly into the campus pharmacy, Thomas picked up his refill of the happy pills (as his mother called them) in case his parents checked to see if he was still taking them. The pills went just as quickly into the dumpster outside. This was the second refill that landed there. It only took him one time of hearing don’t worry about it; it can happen to anyone to understand the happy pills had a side effect he was not inclined to deal with. He didn’t need them anyway—he was fully capable of dealing with his issues on his own.

Thomas walked into the house and his first sight was one of his roommates, Michael, on the couch with his hand in his pants, sound asleep, lying on the top tier of their keg-stand stadium seating. It was a creative bit of interior design constructed at the last roommate-bonding night after finishing the rest of one of their party kegs. In front of the seating was Yorgi, Thomas’s pit bull, sleeping in a similar position to the one Michael had conjured up. Thomas could feel the rumble of the bass and the sound of a chain saw coming from the basement theater, where his other roommates, Tony and Jake, were playing video games. He decided there was no point in waking Michael up, but as he looked down, he noticed that Yorgi was already staring back at him. Thomas tapped on the side of his leg and went directly downstairs to join Tony and Jake. Yorgi followed obediently, as he had done for the last two years since Thomas had found him on the street and brought him home.

Salutations, fuckers! Thomas yelled as he walked into the room.

Grab a beer and sit down, bitch. We’ve already started, Tony replied. Tony’s beady brown eyes were fixed to the screen as he addressed Thomas. Tony was a division one athlete and one of the best divers that their college had seen. His roommates were often amazed at his ability to consume mass quantities of liquor and food, all the while preserving his slender and toned diving physique.

What we drinkin’, Shit-Fucks? Thomas asked as he opened the mini fridge between the two couches.

Colt 45 double malt. It’s a 40s night. We got two 40s for each of us and one for the dog, Jake exclaimed in a joking manner.

You know Yorgi is a violent drunk. Besides, he’d much rather have weed instead, Thomas spoke with a sneer as he scratched Yorgi on the head.

Speaking of . . . where’s Adam? We’ve been waiting all day to toke up. He better not have forgotten that shit again. . . . Yes! I win, Jake said as he slammed down the controller in victory. He then proceeded to lift his shirt, exposing a belly that had once been home to a six-pack. Clutching his stomach with one hand and grabbing his 40 with the other, he yelled something about his belly being thirsty and before anyone could stop him, he filled up his belly button with malt liquor. Jake’s randomly funny and weird nature chased many women away. However, having dark brown hair and light-blue eyes, in addition to features that rivaled a young Mel Gibson’s, he always seemed to snare more women into his web.

Jake was the type of guy who always won at video games. He just had it in his blood. It wasn’t a rare sight to see Jake and Tony in competition with one another. They were both athletic young men with the uncanny knack of becoming experts at anything they tried.

Jake turned his head towards Thomas and, with a sarcastic tone, asked, You want in on the next game here, big fella? We could always use someone else to kill.

The two boys, already buzzing from their malt liquor, began to laugh and slap each other high fives at the lame comment used as a taunt. Thomas cracked open his 40, brown-bagged it, as was the rule of the household, and flopped down in the seat next to Tony.

Give me my green controller, Thomas uttered with a look of concentration on his face. You boys have been playin’ with yourselves too much to beat me. You’re both half blind due to your past times.

The game fired up and the sweet sounds of Conker’s Bad Fur Day came to life as it resonated from the speakers surrounding them. The boys played on mindlessly as Yorgi lay down by their feet and began to lick himself.

Adam left the courtyard in a hurry to catch Paul at the University Apartments before other commitments took him elsewhere. Paul was too unpredictable for Adam’s taste. Although Adam could rarely be counted on for anything, he demanded accountability from everyone else.

He hated going to the University Apartments. They were teeming with students who actually wanted careers and cared about the future, so they were either working their way through college, getting themselves totally into debt for the sake of an education, or both. What a shame some people had to live that way, and what an even greater shame he had to deal with them to get what he wanted. If a gas leak took the entire complex out, it wouldn’t have bothered him, as long as he’d rescued any personal recreational items from the building first. And besides, it would be good business for his father to take care of the funerals that would be necessary for all those students.

Occasionally, Adam would wonder how he could have such thoughts—thoughts that normal people would consider so cold-hearted they would never entertain them for a second. Unlike other people, Adam had grown up with death, seeing bodies being brought into the funeral home, where his family lived. The embalming room was just down the hall from his bedroom and he had heard a million times that death is a natural part of life—nothing to be afraid of. Adam was not afraid of it—not for himself or for others. He had been carefree and reckless all of his life. Why not? Remove the fear of death and anything is possible while you’re alive. He would tear up the cemetery field on his dirt bike, four-wheeler, or pickup truck whenever he had the chance. He’d had accidents and injuries many times, but he had always lived and healed up again, so there was no need for a change of lifestyle. He would