Icy remorse

The frozen lake cracked beneath his feet. Brad Patterson halted and winced. His headache, receding until that moment, reared up and throbbed with renewed vigor. He squinted in the partial darkness and surveyed the moonlit shoreline. Then, mindful of his own plight, Brad scanned the white powder unblemished by his footsteps, spreading before him like an open field.

Lake Winnipesaukee would not experience ice out until April, if this year were like any other. Yet, no weather pattern guaranteed safety on the ice. Brad Patterson, a year-round resident of a shoreline cottage inherited from his parents, respected the lake’s mercurial dangers. In fact, he was more than mindful.

Somewhere beyond the trees, a pair of high-pitched engines whined. Lights bobbed for a second and vanished. The noise abated, perhaps muffled by the trees and hilly terrain. Brad wheeled and scanned the opposite horizon. A fishing derby meant all manner of visitors were braving the ice, with trucks and shacks dotting the darkened skyline of the other shore. Only a few bob houses could be seen from his vantage point. They hugged the far-distant shoreline, before a finger of land jutting onto the lake obscured further view.