Bone Snow

by David Haynes

  “Hey!” he shouted. “Did he hurt your baby?”

  He could see her shadow. He watched her raise the little bundle toward him. Kenta had been messing around with her. He’d probably hurt her as well as the child.

  “You sick bastard!” he shouted and released the blow. Kenta saw it coming and ducked out of the way. Chris tried to grab hold of him, taking a fistful of his jacket, but the guy was slippery. He wriggled free and ran, skidding for the stairs.

  “You want to stay and ask her. Stay and fucking ask her!”

  “My baby!” The voice was pleading, wretched and desperately unhappy. He looked from Kenta to the girl. Kenta could wait. If he’d done what he suspected, nobody would be able to stop him, not Ookami, not Leo or Kim; he’d kill the guy with his bare hands.

  “I’m coming back for you,” he snarled at Kenta and then turned once again to the shadowy figure. He squinted into the fragmented darkness.

  “On my way,” he said. Did she understand any English? How would he understand if she wanted to tell him what Kenta had done? He stepped toward her, feeling the ice beneath his shoes. He’d know. He’d know if Kenta had touched her.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked. The snow felt strange under his feet, not like the snow on the street. Where the hell was it all coming from anyway?

  She was sitting on a small mound of snow, elevating her above him. It was piled under and around her. He glanced at the ceiling. How could that be? The wind must have blown it in through some broken brickwork at the back of the basement. Leo would have to get that fixed.

  “What did he do to you?” he asked. He tried to keep his voice as soft and level as he could. It was difficult to do; his teeth were chattering their way loose from his jaw.

  He managed to scramble up the mound so he was looking down on her again. He felt the snow beneath his fingers and cringed. It had a sandy quality. She really was beautiful. Her eyes were so dark and beside her pale skin, they looked as if they were tunnels that stretched all the way to her soul. He smiled at her and kneeled in the snow.

  “You can tell me. That guy’s a…a…”

  “My baby.” She looked down at the baby and then pulled back the blanket. “Help us.”

  The light was inadequate, but what he saw made him pull back with revulsion. The baby was dead and had been for some considerable time. Its face was riddled with black spidery lines and blooms of something that might have been mold. Its head was withered, the flesh pulled tight across the exposed bald scalp.

  “Shit,” he hissed. “I…I can’t help…”

  He looked up at her again and froze, his words stuck fast in his throat. Where was the girl he’d seen a moment ago? The beautiful and exposed creature he’d come to help.

  An old and haggard woman peered at him; her eyes set deep in her skeletal skull, her skin a patchwork of blackened and spindly scratched and exposed pale bone. He wanted to pull back, he wanted to get up and run, to scream and to wake up because this had to be a nightmare.

  “Help us,” she repeated.

  He felt her icy touch on his cheek. Her hand seemed to slide under his flesh and touch his skull. He felt her fingers curl around his bones, squeezing and injecting ice into the structure of his body. He felt his bones splintering like thin twigs under her touch. His breath crystallized, cutting great ravines through his lungs, through his throat and mouth, his blood nothing more than a long-dead glacier.

  He heard her voice again. Crackling and ugly.

  “My baby.”

  *

  Kenta watched from the foot of the stairs, transfixed by the spectacle. This was truly something from one of his grandmother’s books. Chris had no idea what he was dealing with. He watched the Yuki-onna reach out and touch his face. From that moment he was undone by his pathetic need to help, a need that was missing from Kenta’s own soul. He smiled to himself as Chris finally collapsed, his body turned to an icy wasteland. The same place Yuki-onna herself lived.

  The storm raged about her, swirling, rising to the ceiling and then spinning around and around to cover herself, her baby and Chris with snow. The white crystals advanced further into the basement, covering the floor of almost half of the room now. The light from the cell went out, the cracked screen capturing a final jagged image of the Yuki-onna; evil, haggard and hungry.

  He turned and ran up the stairs to the storeroom, grabbing an empty cardboard box, unfolding it quickly and hiding beneath it. He’d seen bums do it on the streets. It would keep him hidden if nothing else.

  He waited, holding his breath, expecting at any time for her to come and offer her baby to him. Would he be able to refuse her touch, repel the icy blood that ran through her veins?

  Minutes passed, time filled with only the sound of men and women sleeping in the next room. Did anyone else know about Yuki-onna? Ookami perhaps? Had he been told the same stories as a child? Even if he had, he wouldn’t believe what had just happened. What she had done to both Sota and Chris. He’d seen it himself and yet his mind wanted to reject it, push it away as just a nightmare. How could he make Ookami believe it? The man would think him crazy. Especially with their relationship in the state it was now in.

  As for the others, unless they were experts on Japanese culture then they wouldn’t have a clue either. Michael upstairs might, but he was brain damaged now. He only knew how to speak nonsense.

  He pulled back the cardboard and scanned the basement. No sign of her, no snow, no storm and no soul-sucking baby. Maybe she wouldn’t come up here. In the stories, she lived in the snowy, barren wastelands and never ventured from her domain. If she did, it was to follow a man of such integrity and honesty that they were obliged to marry and live as husband and wife.

  There weren’t many men like that around anymore. If there ever had been. Men were not honest or filled with some high notion of integrity. They were dishonest creatures, selfish, without care or thought for others. They couldn’t afford the luxury of looking out for anyone else but themselves. That’s how men like Ookami took power, how they kept it. They were cruel and selfish. That’s how it worked. Those were the lessons Uncle had taught him.

  He listened to the snoring grunts coming from the other room. Maybe it was about time he showed Ookami exactly what he had learned. Other than luring him down to the basement, he wouldn’t have to lift a finger. The Yuki-onna would do the rest. The grotesque, malformed thing she called her baby was insatiable. Its need to feed was eternal and as long as they fed on the souls of men, it would remain that way. The barren, snowy wastelands of her domain would grow, extending into the building like a cancer.

  Where had she come from? What was it that brought her here, tonight? She was responsible for the others that had died – not tainted drugs, not any rivals, not drink. It was Yuki-onna. What was it that brought her to the East Side, to this block? Had she come for someone in particular? Ookami perhaps?

  Well if she had, he was going to help her find him. He pulled the box back over his head. It might even serve his purpose if they were to know exactly what the name Ookami meant? That might cause a few problems. He closed his eyes as a smile crept over his face.

  14

  “Huh?” Leo blinked a few times as Kim gave him a gentle shake. He knuckled his tired eyes and yawned. He didn’t need a flashlight to know his breath turned to icy vapor as soon as it left his mouth. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Forty minutes, I guess. Where’s Chris?”

  He looked to his left where Chris had been when they sat down. The space was empty.

  “I don’t know,” he replied. He looked over at Ookami. Kim shone her cell at him. The man turned his head slowly.

  “You see where Chris went?” Leo asked him.

  He shook his head and closed his eyes. “Bathroom, maybe?”

  “He’s not in the bathroom,” Kim said. “I thought he might be but unless he’s got some serious stomach issues, he’s not in there. I’ve been awake for ten minutes.”

  Sam was as
leep beside her. He shifted his position and then groaned.

  “You want to go look for him?” Leo asked. He’d finally managed to get a little warmth into his body, and moving again would leach that heat from his bones in a matter of seconds.

  “I think we should, don’t you?” She nodded toward the storeroom. The meaning was clear. She trusted Kenta as much as he did.

  “I guess. What about him?” He glanced at Sam. “Do you think leaving him is a good idea?”

  “You want to go look for your friend, go,” Ookami said. “If the boy wakes up, I’ll shout you, but judging from the last hour, you’ll hear him anyway.”

  Leo didn’t like leaving the boy, not after what he’d been through. He hesitated.

  “Your opinion of me is low, I understand that, but harming children is not something I would ever do.”

  Kim looked down at Sam. “He’s sleeping,” she said. “Deeply.”

  Leo nodded and eased his body off the mattress. He nodded at Ookami. It frustrated him that he still hadn’t got a bead on the man, didn’t fully understand him or his motives. Yet. He would do.

  He walked to the storeroom and stopped. Kim lifted the lantern toward the heap of cardboard in the corner.

  “Made himself at home, I see,” she said.

  He could see Kenta’s legs poking out from beneath a flattened-out box. He walked over and pushed them with his feet. “Kenta!”

  The box moved and then shifted, revealing the bleary eyes and a badly swollen face. A slight sense of guilt passed over Leo.

  “What do you want?” he asked. “Come to finish me off, huh? Kill me while I sleep.”

  The guilt passed quickly and was gone. “Just shut up. Have you seen Chris?”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Where is he?” Kim asked.

  “How the hell should I know?”

  It was difficult to say for sure, but was there a grin playing at the corners of Kenta’s mouth? Leo dismissed it. He had to. If he thought he was playing games, he might just lose control completely. It was just his trademark sneer, that was all.

  “I’ll check the bathroom,” Kim said.

  “I just want to know if you’ve seen him, that’s all,” said Leo.

  He heard Kim knock on the bathroom door. “Chris! You in there?” Her question was greeted by silence. The door creaked inward as she looked inside.

  “I’ve been trying to sleep,” Kenta said. “How about a blanket?”

  Leo stood up. Whether or not Kenta was telling the truth, he wouldn’t get a straight answer out of him.

  “Not in there,” said Kim.

  Leo glanced toward the punch bag and the dark abyss of the stairway to the basement. “He probably went upstairs. Got talking to Alison, or something.”

  Kim nodded but she didn’t look convinced.

  They took the stairs quickly, following the indistinct flicker of the candlelight. Leo didn’t want to call out and risk waking Alison or Michael, but he need not have worried. As soon as reached the top of the stairs, he saw them both. They were standing at the large expanse of window looking out, shadows playing on their backs in the hazy light of the guttering candles.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Alison half-turned, gave them a quick, half-hearted smile and then turned around. They were holding hands.

  Leo was shocked to see the man standing. Only a couple of hours ago, it looked doubtful he’d make it through the night and now he was out of bed. He raised his eyebrows at Kim.

  “Good to see you up and about,” he said, walking over to the window. An eerie and pale light drifted up from the street as if the snow were luminescing. Michael didn’t move, just kept staring down at the street.

  “Pretty bad out there, huh?” Leo said.

  From the back, Michael looked normal. There was nothing about his body language that made him look anything but ordinary. The fact that he hadn’t acknowledged Leo or Kim was understandable, he’d been through a bad accident.

  Yet when Leo reached him, he knew something was amiss. His face, his expression, they were both wrong. Kim came up beside him with the torch. He heard her force down a swallow.

  The swelling was enormous, almost impossibly large, the size of a baseball. It pulled the skin tight over the left side of his face, lifting his lips at the corner, giving him a grotesque lopsided grin. But it was the right side of his face that was worse. Where the left side was pulled tight, the right dropped, almost as if the skin were melting off his bones. A line of spit ran from the corner of his mouth and tears rolled in a perpetual stream from his right eye. In the gloom, the eye looked black, like a void. Just like the woman in the basement.

  “How long have you been out of bed, Michael?” Kim asked.

  “Oh, about an hour,” Alison answered.

  “Michael?” Kim persisted.

  If Michael heard, he gave no signal. He stared out of the window but it wasn’t at the street as Leo had first thought. It was at his store, at the windows above the store where they had gone looking for the woman.

  “Can you hear us, Michael?” he asked.

  Again, there was nothing.

  Kim turned to Alison. “Has he said anything?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “No, but he’s walking now. He made it here without any help from me. Just got up and walked right on over here.”

  “And he’s been like this ever since?” Kim asked. Leo could see the concern on her face. Somehow, this was worse than when he’d been in bed. He might have been up and even managed to get over the window, but he was a very long way from being anywhere near okay.

  Leo took Michael’s arm. “Come on, Michael, reckon it’s about time you got back in bed. Don’t you?”

  Michael didn’t exactly resist but neither did he allow Leo to guide him away from the window. He just stayed where he was.

  “Leave him,” Alison said. “He’s happy here. He wants to keep an eye on the store, make sure nothing happens to it while he’s not there.”

  “I think he’d be better in bed,” said Kim. “It’s cold and…”

  “Get away from him!” Alison shouted. “Leave him the fuck alone!”

  Leo saw Kim flinch, pulling back. The outburst was completely without warning and seemed to be utterly against Alison’s previous demeanor.

  “Hey,” Kim said. “We’re just here to help. We don’t want anything to happen to Michael, that’s…”

  “He’s fine,” she said. “I don’t need anyone else to take care of him, I can do it myself.”

  “I wasn’t implying you couldn’t,” Kim replied. She looked at Leo and shrugged.

  “Alison, listen, we’re just checking in, that’s all. You need anything, you just…”

  “She’s coming.”

  All eyes turned to Michael. His speech was distorted, as if it were coming through a gallon of molasses.

  “She’s coming,” he repeated.

  “Who, honey?” Alison asked. “Who’s coming?”

  He didn’t answer, just continued staring out of the window as if he’d never spoken at all.

  Alison lifted his hand and kissed it. “You’re getting better,” she said. She looked at Leo. “It was English.”

  Leo nodded. It seemed an odd comment to make. But then again, what was normal about any of this?

  Michael said nothing for a minute. The only sound was the wind outside and the dull, gentle thud of the snow on the window.

  “Have you seen Chris?” Leo finally asked.

  He waited a moment before repeating the question. “Alison? Have you seen Chris?”

  She turned slowly, as if she were coming out of a deep sleep. “Chris?”

  “The guy who helped us with Michael? The tall one, blonde hair?”

  She shook her head. “Nobody’s been up here except you two.” She glared at Kim.

  “Not even to use the bathroom?” she asked.

  Alison turned back to her vigil. “No.”

&nb
sp; “She’s coming,” Michael said again.

  “Who?” Kim asked.

  Leo noted the look Alison gave her. It was chilling.

  Michael lifted his free hand and pointed across the street, to his store. “She’s coming.” His voice, although slurred, had an aggressive tone to it. It was laced with anger.

  “What does he mean?” Leo asked. “Who is she?”

  Alison said nothing, her brow creased.

  “She’s coming!” Michael screamed. The sound was hideous, like an old vinyl record put on the wrong speed. His hand remained raised, finger still extended.

  “Alison?” Kim shouted. “He needs to be back in bed!”

  Alison opened her voice to argue but as she glanced up at her husband, she closed her mouth again. He looked distressed, frightened even.

  “Help me,” Leo said, looking at Kim.

  This time Michael wobbled, rocking to and fro, humming what sounded like a lullaby.

  “Come on, Michael.” Leo spoke softly, encouraging him by taking his arm, lowering it and guiding him toward the bed. Kim took the other side but it was awkward as Alison still had his hand, unwilling to relinquish her hold on him.

  They lifted him onto the bed and then let Alison move him. Never once did he take his eyes off the window or the spot across the street. Even when he could no longer actually see the window above his store.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Leo asked Alison. “You have any idea what got him so agitated?”

  “He was scared,” Kim said.

  “Scared?” Alison whispered. “You don’t know anything about him. He’s never been scared of anything his entire life.”

  “Everyone’s scared of something,” Kim replied. “Every human has fears, even if it’s just…”

  “You have a big mouth,” Alison snapped. “You should learn to keep it shut.”

  Kim stepped toward her. “What the hell has got into you? I’m…we’re doing our…”

  “I know who you are,” she spat back. “What you are.” Her face was contorted, vicious.