Bone Snow

by David Haynes

  Sam didn’t want to go upstate with his dad. He didn’t want to leave all his friends behind. They were tied together, linked by the invisible and bloody thread of their friend’s murder. Moving out of the area wasn’t going to help, it was going to make it harder to deal with. He loved Michelle; not in the boyfriend-girlfriend way, but as a friend. His best friend. One of only a few who understood.

  At the funeral, he’d watched the other kids being hugged and kissed by their moms and dads. Sam’s dad hadn’t even gone. He’d been working and couldn’t get the time off, or so he said. The truth was something different. He was drunk.

  Oliver’s funeral was the second one he’d been to and the first he remembered. The first had been his mom and he’d been a baby then, just two days old. He never knew his dad before she died, but he always hoped he’d been a different man to the one he was now. He wasn’t a bad guy, he worked hard and said and did the right things. Mostly. But he was empty somehow. A void. Sometimes when Sam looked at him, he thought the guy might be a robot. Or dead. The truth was somewhere in between. When your wife dies giving birth to your son, life takes part of your soul and chews it up like a bad cut of meat.

  The first thing he thought of when Kenta grabbed Michelle was that he was going to kill her. He’d frozen. He was scared. Worse than that, he could see how frightened she was and that hurt more than anything. He’d grabbed her, held onto her arm. It was to keep her close to him. To try and stop anyone hurting her. He’d failed Oliver but he wouldn’t let that happen again. Not to anyone.

  Sam walked behind the counter.

  “What are you doing now?” she asked.

  He tapped a few keys and the register popped open. Mr. Newman had allowed him to ring things through before. All the free snacks he’d given them over the years must have cost him thousands, but he never complained. Not even when it was obvious the guy was struggling to make ends meet. There had been a time when a constant stream of customers had flowed in and out of the store. Not anymore. The mall, the derelict buildings, the over-priced empty apartments, they all contributed to the decay. It was sad. The store was as much a part of his childhood as school.

  He slid the tray out of the register and found what he was looking for. Kim had put Kenta’s knife in the drawer when he handed it over. It would be safer in his pocket than in there.

  “What the hell are you going to do with that?” Michelle asked, standing up. “Sam!” She never used his first name unless she was pissed at him.

  “Put it back!” she hissed, glancing down toward the storeroom.

  He slid the knife from the black sheath and pushed his fingers through the grips. It was a vile thing, cruel but also mesmerizing. It wasn’t for chopping vegetables or slicing up prime cuts. It had been designed for one purpose: to push into another human’s body.

  He slammed the register’s drawer. “You coming?”

  She walked to his side. “Please don’t do anything stupid. Please, Sam!” She grabbed his arm. “Promise me.”

  He smiled. “I promise. Now bring the lamp so we can see what we’re doing.”

  “What are we doing?”

  “Nothing, just making sure those guys don’t try anything.”

  “With a cop and Mr. Newman? Are you kidding? They wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  “Probably not, but it won’t hurt to have an extra set of eyes keeping watch.”

  She sighed, but Sam knew she’d go with him. There was no way she’d want to be alone, and that suited him just fine. He wanted her right beside him. That way he could make sure nothing happened to her. He wanted her to know she was safe with him.

  They walked through the storeroom and waited at the top of the basement stairs.

  “Feels cold,” she said.

  He nodded. A faint, smoky light trickled out of the basement. He took the first couple of steps and stopped. It wasn’t smoke, it was ice. There were ice crystals in the air. Through the leather sheath, he could feel the cold steel blade of the knife on his hip.

  “Can you hear them?” Michelle asked.

  He turned around, putting a finger against his lips. He could hear voices, but not what they were saying. It sounded like one of them was speaking Japanese, calling out. He took the final few steps and turned into the basement.

  At the far end he could see Kim holding the lamp. The others were standing around her, looking into the corner. There was no sign of Sota’s body, but the icy mist was definitely denser where they were standing.

  He gestured toward them with his head. Leo, Kim, Chris and Ookami were facing into one of the alcoves but he couldn’t see Kenta. Then the man’s voice called out, as if hearing his thoughts. He was in the corner, behind the wall. What were they all looking at?

  “Is that creepy woman down here?” Michelle whispered. “It’s freezing.” He felt her grab his forearm and squeeze.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered back. “Turn off the lamp.”

  “Don’t go any closer,” she hissed. “They’ll see us.”

  But he kept moving forward and Michelle came with him. He squinted; the frigid air was making his eyes water. Was there a breeze blowing down here too? Weird. He worked his way up behind the others, staying as close to the other wall as possible. He didn’t want to think about how big the spiders might be down here, scuttling around in the darkness. He shivered as much from the cold as the thought.

  Kenta shouted again and then everything went quiet. Sam moved faster; something was happening. He wanted to see.

  “Close enough!” Michelle squeezed his arm but harder. “I’m not going to look.”

  But he was. They stopped a few yards behind Ookami. Michelle pulled herself away, standing behind him. He peered around the big man.

  Sam had only seen the woman once, and that was a fleeting glimpse when Mr. Newman brought her inside. He hadn’t seen her face then, just her tiny hunched figure and a glimpse of long, jet-black hair.

  He could see her now. The lamp gave her an ethereal look, especially with the ice crystals floating around her, weaving through her hair. Her eyes were beautiful, dark pools of syrupy molasses. He couldn’t see the baby but he knew that what she was holding; a small child that was so tiny it had to be newborn. She looked scared as Kenta loomed over her.

  Was this how his mom looked before she died? Cradling him, holding him close to her, knowing she was going to die at any moment. Knowing she would never see her son again.

  “Mom,” he whispered. He felt tears roll from his eyes and then sting as they froze to his cheeks. He flicked them away.

  “Baby,” she whispered. Her voice was soft and gentle, but it carried to his ears as if she were sitting beside him.

  “What? What did she say?” Leo asked. They were all oblivious to both his and Michelle’s presence, even though they were just a few yards away from them.

  “Baby,” Ookami said. “She said baby.”

  She started to unfurl the blanket, to lift her arms and to raise the child toward Kenta.

  The sound of a thousand breaking twigs cracked through the air like gunshot. It came from behind them, in the alcove on the opposite wall to the woman. Ookami dropped to his knees, turning and reached for something shiny and black beneath his jacket. Kenta drew his own gun.

  The noise was deafening, the flash from Kenta’s gun dazzling. People were shouting and in the midst of all that chaos, he heard Michelle grunt. Yet he couldn’t take his eyes from the woman. She was holding the infant out to Kenta, her eyes pleading, but he was looking away, pointing his gun into the darkness. The snow swirled about her, about Kenta’s feet and ankles, pulling at his legs, tugging at his pants. He glanced down at her and then sprang forward toward the source of the breaking sticks.

  “No! No! No!” Leo roared.

  10

  Leo rushed past Sam, shoulder-charging him to get to Michelle. The kid was in a trance, staring down at the woman, just as he had been a few seconds ago. He hadn’t heard either of them come down here.
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  He dropped to his knees. Michelle had slid all the way down the wall, her eyes wide with pain and fear.

  “She’s hit!” he shouted.

  Kim was beside him, pushing her firearm back into its holster. “Where?”

  There was a loud grunt. He had time to register Chris falling beside him and then the sound of smashing glass. The lamp went out.

  A few more muffled grunts echoed and then Kim’s cell flashlight flicked on.

  “Oh Christ!” Leo cried. “No, no, no, no!”

  There was a neat black void on her cheek. It welled with blood and then spilled over, running freely down her jaw and onto her chest. He put his fingers to the wound but the blood ran around them, working through the lines and indentations on his skin.

  Michelle opened her mouth, raised her eyebrows and then fell forward into his arms. The wall behind her was a tangle of hair, bone and gore.

  Leo roared, screaming, cursing, gnashing his teeth together. He wanted to punch the wall, drive his fist right through it and keep going, punching until his knuckles were a smashed and bloody pulp. He roared until his voice cracked and his throat screamed out in pain.

  He held her, pulling her as close to him as he could. He sat that way, in silence, for an age. There was no sound except for his ragged breaths and the wind outside. Why had this happened again? Why? Why? Why?

  He kissed Michelle’s icy forehead and leaned her gently against the wall. Then he stood slowly, gathering his thoughts, his strength.

  Sam wasn’t even looking at her. He was still staring blankly at the woman. Leo grabbed him and spun him around. “Why?” he yelled. “Why did you come down here? Why did you bring her? We told you to stay upstairs! I fucking told you!”

  The kid looked like he was in a trance. His mouth was open and his eyes blank. Leo shook him, then again, harder.

  Sam blinked, closed his mouth, licked his lips. “Mr. Newman? What…” His head darted from right to left. “Michelle?” He looked at Leo again, his eyes questioning.

  He had no idea what had happened. Had he smoked some weed maybe? No, that wasn’t it. He didn’t smell of it and wouldn’t do that in the store. No way would he do that.

  “You shouldn’t have bought her down here!” Leo shouted. He wanted to hit the kid, knock him down, make him understand what he’d done.

  “Michelle?” he said again.

  Leo kept hold of Sam for a second, before releasing him. The boy collapsed to the floor and started wailing.

  Kenta appeared from the alcove out of the swirling snow. He held his gun down by his side. He looked from Ookami to the girl and then back again.

  “Is she…” he started.

  Ookami screeched something in Japanese, snarling and cursing.

  Kenta shook his head. He looked as confused as Sam had. “I heard a gunshot,” he said. “Someone shot at me. I heard them!”

  Ookami yelled again, gesturing around the room.

  “I heard a shot!” Kenta yelled back. “I heard…”

  He didn’t finish. Leo hit him like a train, driving him back into the alcove. He heard the wind go out of the man as he drove his fist into his gut. Kenta’s gun rattled against the brickwork as it fell from his grip.

  Kenta raised his knee, striking him in the chin. He felt his teeth jar together, almost shaking loose. He tasted blood and straightened, dodging a couple of wild haymakers. He didn’t see the kick coming though. It struck him in the side of his face, snapping his head around. If Kenta was going to fight with his legs, Leo was going to have to get in close to neutralize the threat.

  He blocked another kick, slipped inside a straight right and delivered a left cross to Kenta’s chin. He didn’t go down, although lesser men had with such a punch, but a right hook to his temple sent him crashing against the wall.

  Leo grabbed his throat and then drew back his fist. The punch smashed Kenta’s cheek. Blood sprayed outward, dotting the snow with sparkling crimson jewels. He was aware of cold breath, lingering, tickling the back of his neck but the rage was too strong. He thought of nothing but killing Kenta.

  The man threw an ineffective punch of his own. It hit Leo on the ear but he felt nothing. He drew back his fist and smashed it into Kenta’s mouth. He felt teeth separate from the gums. Kenta spat blood in his face.

  The icy breath was stronger, freezing the air on his cheek. He could feel her beside him. She was standing to his right; the cloaked blanket slid back. He could see her in silhouette. The sight made him pause as he drew back his fist again. It must have been the shadows, the frigid, swirling air. She was no longer the beautiful, vulnerable young girl they had all been transfixed by. She was old, ancient, a crone. She reached out to touch Kenta’s cheek. His eyes widened and he shrieked. Was Kenta seeing the same thing he was?

  “My baby,” she whispered.

  The click of a hammer being pulled sounded in his ear. It was followed by the pressure of a barrel being pushed against the back of his head.

  “I can’t allow you to kill him,” Ookami said.

  She lowered her head, her face slipping beneath the cover of the blanket again. It was a trick of the light. That was all.

  “He deserves it!” he shouted. “He killed Michelle.” He shuffled his feet, aware of the snow that drifted over his boots.

  “I understand. But this is not our way. I can’t allow you to take his life.”

  The pressure on the back of his head grew as Ookami made his point.

  “And I won’t allow you to shoot Leo,” said Kim. She pulled back the slide on her Glock and pointed it at Ookami.

  Leo heard the man sigh. The pressure on the back of his head lessened, just slightly.

  “Then we are at an impasse,” Ookami replied. “I don’t want to shoot anyone, only to encourage Mr. Newman to leave my nephew for me to deal with. That’s all.”

  “He doesn’t deserve to live!” Chris shouted. Leo caught sight of him moving toward the alcove. He paused and bent down to pick up Kenta’s discarded gun.

  “Chris!” he shouted. “Hold it there!”

  Leo felt the rage subsiding. It wasn’t fear for his own safety, but fear of more death. A shootout in a space as confined as this would lead to nothing but more spilled blood. He relaxed his grip on Kenta’s throat. He coughed and spat out a tooth into the snow.

  “I told you I’d kill you if you touched those kids!” Chris yelled. He lifted the gun and pointed it at Kenta.

  “No!” Leo shouted. “This has to end. Now!”

  “I agree,” Ookami said. He was outnumbered, outgunned and outflanked yet his voice betrayed no emotion, no recognition of that fact. He was the calmest person in the basement.

  He lowered the gun from Leo’s head, moving it smoothly toward Chris. “The police officer will shoot me,” he said. “But not before I’ve shot you and then you, Mr. Newman. Then there will be three more bodies in your store. That will make…five in total, I believe?”

  He was including Oliver in that figure. The shooting wasn’t exactly a secret, but why would Ookami concern himself with it? It was obvious why he spoke of it now. Guilt. He was loading guilt onto Leo in the hope he would defuse the situation.

  “Put the gun down, Chris,” he said.

  Chris glanced at him and then back at Kenta. “Motherfucker.”

  Kenta mumbled something that might have been in English or Japanese. His words were slurred, spoken through a mouth missing a couple of teeth. For a split-second he thought Chris was going to shoot. Although Kenta’s words were unintelligible, the sneer was still there. Instead Chris shook his head and lowered the gun.

  “You’re one ugly bastard,” he said.

  Ookami was next. He slid the gun back inside his jacket and turned to Kim.

  “You’re still going to shoot me?” he asked.

  She held the gun on him for a moment and then lowered it. Ookami took hold of Kenta’s arm and pulled him clear of Leo and the alcove. Leo remained where he was for a moment. His head swam. The wom
an was no longer beside him. She was sitting where she had spent most of the night. Had she been there at all, beside him? He couldn’t clear his thoughts properly. She rocked backward and forward, humming a tune that was unrecognizable. He looked away. Stress and the shadows were playing tricks on him. They had to be. And where the hell was all this snow coming from?

  Sam was still holding Michelle, cradling her face, kissing her blood-matted hair. He was bawling, weeping loudly, saying her name over and over again.

  “He’s in a bad way,” Kim said. “Really bad.”

  Leo rubbed his head. Beads of icy sweat flew between his fingers. “How did this happen?”

  Kim shook her head. “I don’t know. We were trying to talk to her and then…and then... it sounded like gunfire.” She seemed confused too, almost as if she were coming out of a dream. She looked toward the woman and child, shaking her head.

  “I…I’m not sure,” she said.

  Chris walked into the other alcove. He still had Kenta’s gun in his hand. “You better come take a look at this,” he called.

  “I’ll go,” Leo said to Kim. “You stay with Sam.”

  Ookami was supporting Kenta, holding him up upright against the wall, moving his head from side to side. His voice was harsh and threatening.

  He found Chris standing over Sota’s body. Or what was left of it. In the twenty minutes they had been down there, something had happened to the corpse. A metamorphosis of sorts.

  “What the hell happened?” Chris asked. “Look at him.”

  Leo didn’t know what to say. They had placed Sota in the corner, propped up against the wall. Now he was lying on the floor, his legs and arms bent at angles that could never be achieved with an intact skeleton. Everything was twisted, warped, turned around. It was grotesque.

  “I think we know where the gunshot came from,” said Leo. “It looks like every bone in his body has been broken.”