Snowblind II: The Killing Grounds

by Michael McBride

  He remembered the other picture. The one of the silhouette through the trees. The image he’d printed because he thought the missing teens might have inadvertently filmed their killer.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  Dayton snatched the pictures from Avery and sorted through them until he found it. The silhouette was indistinct. It was blurred by a combination of motion and the blowing snow.

  Or perhaps long fur flagging on the wind.

  * * *

  Avery didn’t need to see the other pictures. He’d seen more than enough already. The image of Michelle had captured a woman he’d never seen before. His girlfriend had never been without a smile and a playful twinkle in her eye. She’d been vibrant and beautiful and had carried herself in a way that made her seem to possess an additional dimension that the world around her lacked. This girl. The one in the picture. She was more animal than human. It wasn’t just the dirt and blood smeared on her face or the mucus running from her nose or her cracked lips. It was her eyes. They were flat and emotionless.

  Lifeless.

  She had known she was going to die.

  He was overwhelmed by a crippling physical sensation of hopelessness. Michelle was dead. The love of his life, his reason for living, had been dead from the start. All of the years of searching…they were all for naught.

  Avery’s legs gave out and dropped him to floor. He leaned back against the wall and stared blankly into the room where Michelle and her friends had huddled around the fire, while whatever hunted her lurked outside, just as it did now. While he was working a shift he couldn’t bring himself to miss at a job of no consequence, she was running for her life. And while he was sleeping comfortably in his nice warm bed, she was dying in this awful place. Terrified and alone.

  “Get up, son.”

  Avery rolled his eyes upward toward the sound of the voice. He couldn’t seem to focus on the sheriff. His body felt so cold…and he could hear his pulse…

  Thump…

  Thump…

  Thump…

  Thump…

  Zeke barked in the other room. High-pitched. Frenetic.

  Dayton glanced toward the dog, then back again. He grabbed the printout from Avery’s hand, crumpled it up, and cast it aside.

  “You think she would have wanted you to throw away your life for her? That’s precisely why she made the recording. So you wouldn’t. Do you hear me?”

  The sheriff’s voice seemed to come from far away and sounded every bit as hollow as his words.

  Woof-woof-woof-woof.

  Dayton grabbed him by the shoulder of his jacket and jerked him up maybe four inches before he fell back to the ground.

  “She wanted to live, damn it! More than all of the others. She risked everything to live. For you. You owe her the same. Don’t you think that’s what she would have wanted?”

  Avery looked away. Nothing mattered now. Soon enough he’d know exactly what happened to Michelle, and then he could be with her again. There was nothing in the world he wanted more.

  Woof-woof-woof-woof.

  “For Christ’s sake!” Dayton holstered his sidearm, grabbed him by the front of his jacket, and hauled him to his feet. He pinned Avery to the wall with his forearm and got right in his face. “You listen to me and you listen good. At this very moment there’s a Search and Rescue chopper heading this way and I’ll be damned if both of us aren’t going to be on it. I don’t give a rat’s ass what you do from there, but I’m sure as hell not going to let what happened to your girlfriend happen to anyone else. So you pull your shit together and help me figure out how we’re getting out of here.”

  He bounced Avery off the wall for emphasis and stormed out of the room toward where Zeke was braced with his front paws up on the remains of the crumbled roof, barking up into the snow.

  Woof-woof-woof-woof.

  Avery followed as though in a trance. His legs were numb. His whole body was, save for his exposed skin, which positively burned from the bitter wind blowing straight through the decomposing building.

  The sheriff was right and he knew it. Michelle never would have wanted him to throw his life away. She would have wanted him to live, to find a way to carry on without her. The problem was he simply didn’t want to. There was no life out there for him. He’d been fortunate enough to find his one true love, his soul mate, a miracle for which most people spent their entire lives praying.

  He skirted the center of the main room, where Dayton moved silently around the perimeter of the snow accumulated on the floor, sighting down the hole in the roof from the relative protection of the shadows.

  Zeke’s barking faded to a growl. His lips writhed over his bared teeth.

  Beneath the sound, Avery heard something else. A creaking sound. Coming from somewhere overhead.

  He looked up. Across the room.

  The roof sagged ever so slightly.

  Creak.

  He struck the lighter.

  Schick-schick.

  The dust falling from the ceiling glimmered in the dim glow.

  Again, the planks bowed and a cascade of dust shivered from the rafters.

  “Something’s up there.”

  Avery stumbled backward so quickly he extinguished the lighter and nearly fell into the pit. He sidestepped it and backed into the wall beside the front door. Something metallic crunched underfoot. He glanced down and saw the antenna where he’d dropped it, both horizontal wires broken, and the monitor with the small red beacon, which passed through the inner ring toward the crosshairs.

  Creak.

  Zeke released a fusillade of barking.

  Woof-woof-woof-woof.

  Avery snapped the lighter again.

  Schick.

  He couldn’t even hear himself think over the frantic barking.

  The roof sagged. Closer this time. Dust sparkled as it descended.

  He looked down at the monitor. The beacon was even closer now. Looked up again. Saw the roof dimple and dust—

  A flash of light from the corner of his eye and a hole appeared in the roof.

  The report hit him a split-second later.

  His ears rang as the world came apart around him.

  * * *

  Dayton fired again and again.

  The roof splintered and the room filled with gun smoke and dust, through which thin columns of light streaked.

  He had to force himself to stop firing before he wasted the entire clip.

  Zeke continued to bark, although the sound was nearly drowned out by the residual ringing in his ears.

  He watched the hole in the roof, his pulse pounding so hard his peripheral vision constricted in time with it.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  The falling dust settled all around him. He held his breath in an effort to keep from coughing.

  A clump of snow fell from one of the pine branches. It sprung back upward, free of its burden.

  There’d been something up there. He was certain of it. He’d seen the rotting boards buckle under its weight. Was it possible he’d hit it?

  Dayton stepped sideways. Slowly. One step at a time. Circling the accumulation in an effort to change his perspective. To see anything at all through the branches and the storm.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  Avery said something, but he tuned out the kid’s voice. He had to focus. His Smith & Wesson M&P9 held seventeen shots in the clip and one in the breech. How many shots had he fired? Three? Four? And how many back in the clearing? Another five, maybe?

  There was nothing up there. Nothing moving anyway.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  Avery grabbed him by the shoulder. Dayton shrugged him off and watched the ceiling for any signs of transferred weight. For the resultant dust.

  Nothing.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  Avery stepped in front of him. It was all he could do not to instinctively fire. The kid thrust Seaver’s tracking device into his face. The little red lig
ht glowed brightly. Nearly right in the center of the crosshairs. Slightly to the northwest. And moving. What was the scale? Five, maybe ten feet?

  A metallic crunching sound.

  Clung-kle.

  Zeke slowly climbed down from the weathered timber and turned to face the short hallway at the back of the room.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  The snow descended through the rusted aluminum roof, alighting on the bare branches of the aspens.

  Clung-kle.

  The corrugated sheet dimpled.

  Dayton advanced toward it. Slowly. His pistol raised, finger tight on the trigger. His head throbbed. Was he holding his breath? He released it in a cloud.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  Something eclipsed the hole and a shadow fell upon the ground.

  Dayton resisted the urge to fire. He needed something to target. Anything at all. He couldn’t afford to waste any more bullets.

  Clung-kle.

  Zeke slipped around his legs and walked in front of him. Every bit as slowly.

  The shepherd’s body trembled.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  The shadow crept across the snow and a pair of feet descended from the hole.

  Dayton targeted the right foot, which was followed by a lower leg. Then a knee. A thigh.

  Someone was easing himself down through the rusted roof. Trying to sneak up on them from behind.

  Clung-kle.

  The silhouette suggested whoever it was wore jeans. And a jacket. But his left foot. His left foot was bare.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  Dayton was nearly to the aspens. Close enough to see the foot. And the droplets of blood dripping from the toes. Dotting the accumulation with a gentle plat…plat…

  He studied the roof. The distinct indentations where something heavy stood on top of it. He targeted the more pronounced of the two down the sightline of his shaking barrel.

  Blew out his breath.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  Pulled the trigger.

  The bullet punched through the aluminum. Even over the report he heard a thunderous roar.

  “rrrrrrRRRRRaaaaaAAAAHHHHHhhhhrrrrrrr!”

  The body plummeted through the aspens, cartwheeling from the branches. It hit the ground on its side. Made no effort to rise.

  Dayton caught just a glimpse of what was left of Seaver’s face before he heard a loud cracking sound behind him.

  He glanced back and saw the bottom half of the board over the front window buckle inward.

  Movement from the corner of his eye. Low to the ground and streaking across the bedroom from the open window.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  He grabbed Avery and shoved him toward where the ranger’s body bled the snow red. Shot at the source of the motion. Turned and ran.

  The hole near the base of the wall in the dry storage room. He remembered it clearly.

  Another cracking sound and the remains of the board over the window clattered to the ground behind him.

  Dayton hurdled Seaver’s corpse, plowed through the trees, and dove toward where Avery’s legs disappeared into the wall. Dragged himself inside. Spun around. Fired through the hole.

  Listened.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  The space was small and dark and smelled of earth and mildew. The air was cold and crisp. Zeke’s barking was deafening in the confines.

  Woof-woof-woof-woof.

  “Shut him up!”

  He needed to be able to think. They were in serious trouble. He had what? Four? Five shots left? He couldn’t remember.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  He scooted back from the opening. Rolled over onto his chest. Aimed his pistol across the ground toward the front door.

  It was so dark he could hardly see a thing. The outlines of the aspen trunks. The ranger’s body, perfectly still. A lump on the ground from which the jacket’s stuffing bloomed. The front door remained barricaded. The snow gusted into the room through the open front window. He didn’t blink for fear of missing the slightest hint of movement.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  Why weren’t they coming? They had them cornered. Trapped.

  Why the hell weren’t they coming?

  * * *

  Zeke struggled to break free from Avery’s grasp. He had his arm around the shepherd’s neck and was using his body weight to pin the dog’s head to the ground to keep him from barking.

  He felt cold stone against his shoulder and the sensation of the ceiling not far above him, although he could see little more than the vague outline of the stones beside the lone entrance. Dayton blocked his view through the hole.

  Zeke’s body trembled. His chest swelled and vibrated with a growl.

  “Good boy,” Avery whispered. “It’s all right.”

  “See if you can find another way out of here,” Dayton whispered.

  “I can’t see a thing.”

  “Use the lighter?”

  “You sure?”

  A long pause.

  “Yeah. We don’t have a choice. Just be quick about it.”

  Avery cautiously released Zeke. He half-expected the dog to round on him and snap at his face, but he just lay there, trembling.

  The lighter was in Avery’s front pocket. He had to roll over and sit up to reach it. His head struck the ceiling and his vision filled with sparks. He swore under his breath and struck the flint.

  Schick.

  Schick.

  There was barely enough butane left to produce a tiny blue flame. They were in a root cellar of some kind. Or at least that’s what he thought it was. The walls were composed of stones and packed dirt. The bare, earthen floor was as cold and hard as ice. There were large dark splotches of discoloration that looked like frozen mud and clumps of dry, brittle hair everywhere. It was the same kind of hair Michelle had hidden in the hole with the camera. And beside Dayton, near the lone egress, were white chips that looked like teeth and fragments of bone. He was about to point them out when he saw the wood around the orifice.

  And the words carved into it.

  Not just words. Names. Dates. Some of them were so old they’d nearly faded into the grain. Others were new enough that curls of wood still clung to the ends of the strokes. And above them all, a single sentence. Deep and precise, as though honed by each of those who squeezed their names onto the wooden canvas.

  THEY COME AT NIGHT.

  Avery forgot all about looking for a way out when he saw the date that haunted every aspect of his daily existence.

  12/12.

  December 12th.

  Just over seven years ago.

  He tried to stifle a sob to no avail.

  “What is it?” Dayton glanced up at the carvings. “Jesus.”

  The world tilted under Avery as he read the names beneath the date.

  Tamara Withrow

  Jeremy Varner

  Amy Douglas

  Dylan Moore

  Michelle Jenkins

  Avery stared at her name. Just one of the many that stretched back more than a century. Had all of these people lost their lives in this very place?

  The flame died.

  Schick-schick.

  He recoiled when the wheel burned his thumb. Blew on it. Tried again.

  Schick-schick-schick.

  The flint sparked, but showed no sign of lighting. A quick shake beside his ear confirmed what he already knew. The lighter was empty.

  A sniffing sound.

  He wrapped his arms around Zeke in the most reassuring manner he could manage. They needed to keep him quiet.

  “Shh,” he whispered into the dog’s ear.

  Again, he heard the sniffing sound.

  It wasn’t coming from the dog.

  He listened harder, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. Several interminable seconds passed in the cold darkness.

  There it was again. The sniffing.

  This t
ime he heard it clearly enough to tell that it was coming from behind him.

  On the other side of the stone wall.

  * * *

  This was all his fault. Dayton had been presented with the opportunity to end this nightmare before it even started. At least for him. He’d recognized the names the moment he glanced up and saw them carved into the wood above the small entryway.

  Joel Vigil

  Blaine Shore

  Todd Baumann

  William Coburn

  November 20, 2012

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  He wanted to cry. He could only imagine the sheer force of will it must have taken not only to survive such a terrifying ordeal, but to fight his way through the blizzard and these treacherous mountains to reach town.

  William Coburn had staggered into the restaurant with the proof of this tragedy under his jacket, thinking he’d finally reached safety. He’d been half-blind, fully delirious, and malnourished to a life-threatening degree. And Dayton had shot him at point-blank range.

  If there was indeed such a thing as cosmic justice, this was undoubtedly how it was meted out.

  “Do you hear that?” Avery whispered so quietly he could hardly hear him.

  Dayton didn’t dare look away from the opening. Something was still out there. He could feel it.

  He heard the dog sniffing from somewhere behind him, but that was all.

  “It’s coming from behind the wall,” Avery whispered.

  A shiver rippled up Dayton’s spine.

  Thoosh-thoosh-thoosh-thoosh.

  How in the name of God could it have gotten around behind them?

  “Do you still have the tracker?” he whispered.

  A long pause.

  “No…I must have dropped it.”

  Dayton edged closer to the hole. The snowflakes settled to the ground right in front of him. Beyond the trees, the world was filled with shadows animated by the blizzard, which raged unimpeded through the gap where the front window had been.

  More sniffing from behind him.