by Ronald Malfi
Then suddenly Kate was gone. He turned in time to see her legs being pulled inside the open door of the church.
Rolling onto his side, Todd thrust himself forward and through the doorway of the church. He struck the marble floor with enough force to knock the wind out of his lungs. Directly behind him he heard the massive door slam shut. And a moment after that, there came the sound of the creature’s bladed arm striking the wood. The sound was like a gunshot.
Todd Curry passed out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Can you see them? Where’d they go?” This was Shawna, leaning against a magazine rack for support. Both Fred and Nan were peering out the windows, trying to locate exactly where Todd and Kate had gone.
“They went up that road,” Nan said, pointing. “Where does it go?”
“To St. John’s,” said Shawna.
“I don’t see them anymore,” said Nan. “It’s too dark.” She turned away from the window, a weakened expression on her face. “There were people chasing them.”
“Those weren’t people,” Shawna said.
Clutching the rifle, Fred turned away from the window and strode across the store toward the checkout counter. “They had guns,” he said, digging around in the ammo box again. “I could see them. They’ll be okay.”
“Will they?” Nan protested. “Will they really? You don’t know that.”
“They’re both quick and they’re both smart. With guns, they’ve got a good shot.”
Nan seemed to tremble. Shawna braced herself against the magazine rack and worried that the woman might actually explode.
“Stop it!” Nan shouted at Fred. “Stop lying to me! Stop telling me things will be all right when they’re not!” Tears burst from her eyes and spilled down her pale face. Her whole body trembled. “Just stop it!”
The outburst caught her husband off guard. “Nan…”
“I’m tired of it! I can’t pretend to believe you anymore!”
Without saying a word, Fred rushed to her and gathered her up in his big arms. Nan struck him once with a small fist, but there was no power behind it. He held her tighter and the sight of their embrace caused something vital to weaken inside Shawna. Then she looked up at the opening in the wall above the freezers that led to the ventilation shaft. Cold dread overcame her.
“Fred…Nan…”
They both turned to look at her.
“Look,” Shawna said, and pointed.
Like sparkling confetti, a light snow fell from the ventilation shaft and drifted down in front of the freezer doors. The snowflakes did not collect on the floor, however; they seemed to remain buoyant, as if by some invisible force, and they hovered in midair.
Fred slowly released Nan. He took a few silent steps backward, toward the checkout counter where he’d set down the rifle.
The cloud of snow coiled and twisted. Almost imperceptibly at first, a billow of snow bulged from the mass like a bud blossoming on a vine. Then, as quick as a lightning strike, the tendril of snow shot out and struck the rifle, knocking it down behind the counter.
Nan shrieked and staggered backward behind an aisle of canned goods. Fred froze, uncertain what to do next. The mass of snow began to clot, to become solid, while simultaneously encircling Fred as if in an embrace.
“Don’t let it touch you,” Shawna warned. She, too, had backed up behind an aisle of goods…only she already had her eye on a can of bug spray at the edge of the shelf. She reached for it, never taking her eyes from the swirling cloud of snow.
Fred seemed to be in a trance. He stared up at the swirling mass before him, eyes wide like those of a child. Almost hesitantly, he brought one hand up and actually grazed the snow; his fingers passed through the trembling snowcloud, leaving grooves in their wake. A look of absolute awe fall across Fred’s face.
“Don’t be fooled by it, Fred,” Shawna said. She had made her way closer to Fred, the canister of bug spray down at her side, hidden.
The distinct shape of a head peeled from the snowcloud and swung around to face Shawna. It was the face of a ghost, with dark, sightless pits for eyes. The longer she stared at it, the less tangible it became.
Fred slowly withdrew his hand from it, bringing it back down at his side…which was when the snowcloud became dense and sprouted overlong arms tipped in curling blades. A sound like a train squealing to a stop emanated from the creature. Nan screamed and knocked over an aisle of canned goods. The creature flickered briefly into nonexistence, then appeared again, this time facing Nan Wilkinson, its bladed arms raised like swords to strike.
“Fuck you!” Shawna screamed, and aimed the bug spray at the thing. As she depressed the trigger on the can, she brought up a Bic lighter and thumbed a flame into existence. The result was a makeshift blowtorch. A dazzling yellow pyre closed the distance between herself and the creature. The thing screamed in pain—a sound like a million windows shattering at once—as the heat from the flame forced the creature into solid form. In the firelight, Shawna could make out its humped, pale-skinned back and the vague nubs of its spinal column pressing the flesh taut. The flame ignited half its face, too, and it glared at her like a skull on fire. Its single eye burned like a fiery ember.
The creature swung one of its massive arms, knocking the can of bug spray from Shawna’s hand. Its back and the side of its face still on fire, it whirled around and shrieked at Shawna, bearing down on her like a looming thunderhead. The smell of the thing was like burning rubber, like human waste set ablaze.
Shawna rolled into the next aisle just as soda cans exploded from the heat. She felt something sharp and unforgiving strike her right hip, then ricochet off into the darkness. Jumping to her feet, she ran to the other end of the store and didn’t look back until she’d struck the far wall.
The creature was directly above Fred, who was staggering down one of the aisles toward his wife. Those bladed arms materialized again, poised like the arms of a praying mantis. Before Shawna could react, she saw the thing plunge the twin knives of its arms into Fred’s shoulder blades. Speared, Fred jerked and floundered, his feet swinging loosely beneath him. Blood frothed at his lips and his eyes bugged out like headlights.
The fire had burned itself out along the creature’s back, leaving behind the merest hint of a charred and rubbery-looking carapace. It raised itself up on Fred’s shoulders, working its twin blades deeper and deeper into the man’s flesh. Blood soaked the back of Fred’s shirt. Petrified, Nan could only watch while cowering in a corner.
Shawna dove behind the checkout counter and fumbled around in the darkness for the rifle. Something leaked into her eyes—blood?—and for a moment she couldn’t see anything. Then one hand closed around the butt of the gun and she yanked it up off the floor. Gun at the ready, Shawna popped up from behind the checkout counter.
The creature was halfway inside Fred Wilkinson. It dematerialized into a shadow, an apparition, and melded with Fred’s body like a soul reclaiming its corpse. Fred’s eyes blinked and some bastardization of life resurfaced in his face. Like a marionette, his head swung woodenly toward Nan. The grin on his face was that of a Halloween pumpkin.
Nan cried out and tried to make herself smaller in the corner of the store.
Shawna leveled the gun at Fred and fired a single round. The bullet missed, striking one of the plate-glass windows instead, where it webbed the glass with fissures.
The Fred-thing pivoted in Shawna’s direction. For a millisecond, Shawna could see the creature riding Fred’s back, working him like a puppet, engineering the man’s movements and expressions.
“Don’t shoot him!” Nan screamed from the other end of the store. “Please!”
Shawna focused her concentration and fired a second shot. This one struck Fred in the lower abdomen, sending a fountain of blackish goop spouting out from his back. The grin never faltered from Fred’s face. He took a step toward her, his leg a bit unsteady, his body wobbly.
It’s a new body, Shawna had time to think. It’s still getting used to w
orking it.
She attempted to fire a third shot but the rifle just offered a hollow click.
Empty.
Motherfucker!
She drove one fist into the carton of ammunition and hastily loaded one round into the rifle. Fred was closing the distance more steadily now. Black strips of foam slavered from his mouth and each footstep left behind bloody prints on the linoleum.
Shawna charged the weapon, swung it against one shoulder, and pulled the trigger one last time.
Fred Wilkinson’s head was replaced by a cloud of red mist.
Shawna wasted no time—she grabbed another fistful of rounds, then hopped over the checkout counter, the rifle slung over one shoulder. As Fred’s body began to buck and tremble on the floor, Shawna slammed against Nan and shoved her toward the front door.
“Fred! Fred!” Nan wouldn’t stop screaming.
Shawna shoved her aside and flipped the deadbolt on the door. As she kicked the door open, freezing air washed into the Pack-N-Go like a tidal wave. It whipped her hair into her face, temporarily blinding her. She groped for Nan, caught a fistful of the woman’s coat, and yanked her through the doorway.
The town square was deserted. Still dragging Nan behind her, Shawna hurried across the square toward the opposite end of the street. She knew all the shops were locked up and, in some cases, barricaded. They would get no reprieve there. Instead, she dragged Nan toward the nearest vehicle—a Volkswagen Beetle with its driver’s side door standing open.
Nan collapsed to the snow, sobbing. Shawna staggered, considered leaving the old woman right there on the ground…then thought better of it.
“Come on!” she shouted at Nan. “We have to go!”
“Oh, Fred,” Nan sobbed. “Oh…”
Shawna dropped down beside her. “Please, Nan. We have to go. Please, okay? I don’t want to die out here. Please.”
Nan nodded. She swiped at her eyes with the heels of her hands, then stood up without any assistance.
Across the square, the windows of the Pack-N-Go exploded.
“Get in!” Shawna screamed, shoving Nan forward into the open door of the Volkswagen. The older woman lost her balance and went sprawling over the seat, her frail legs kicking. Shawna didn’t wait for Nan to climb into the passenger seat; she jumped in on top of her and slammed the driver’s side door shut.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Slowly, Todd’s eyes unstuck. And his first thought was, I’m blind. He couldn’t see a damn thing. He was lying down on something hard and uncomfortable, and although he was without sight, he got the sense that the darkness was expansive. Like waking up in a giant cave.
He groaned and rolled over onto his side. He heard movement in the darkness close by, which sent him into self-preservation mode. He recalled having had a gun at one point; he patted himself down but could not locate the weapon. Also, his head throbbed and he thought he tasted blood at the back of his throat.
“Who’s there?” he asked the darkness.
“Shhhh,” came a voice. Female. “You’ll be all right.”
“Where am I?”
“St. John’s. A church. You’re safe here.”
He swallowed what felt like a chunk of obsidian. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Meg.”
He felt the girl slide closer to him in the darkness. A moment later, he felt the fabric of her clothing brush against his bare hand. She sat beside him and he could smell the staleness of her flesh. Panic raced through him. He imagined the faceless little girl sitting beside him in the blinding dark, taking to him with a mouth she did not have.
A scrape of a match, the stink of sulfur, and a candle was lit. Above the flame, the girl’s face was a quilt of candlelight and shadows. She looked like a teenager, possibly younger.
“Are you okay?” she asked him.
“I think so.” He looked around and realized he was sitting up on one of the church pews. Deep in the shadows, the altar loomed atop the pulpit like a Stonehenge pillar. “Where’s Kate?”
“That lady you were with?”
“Yes. Where is she?”
“She’s getting cleaned up in the back. You can get cleaned up, too, if you like.”
“Who are you?” he asked again.
“I told you. I’m Meg.”
“I meant, where did you come from? How did you get here?”
“Our folks brought us here when it started. They said it would be safe.”
“So you’re from town? From here in Woodson?”
“Yes.” She looked him up and down. Her grimy clothes were in tatters. Her dark hair hung in unkempt coils at either side of her face. “But you’re not,” she said.
“No,” he said. “My friends and I were driving through. Our car broke down back on the highway. We came here for help.”
The girl giggled, covering her mouth with one hand. Then she quickly apologized. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh. It just sounds funny, saying you came here for help. Of all places.”
“Yeah, right,” he said, running his hands through his hair. He sniffed and smelled blood in the air. “How many of you are hiding in this church?”
“It’s just me and my brother. His name’s Chris.”
“What happened to your parents?”
The girl looked away. Her profile made her appear more adult than Todd guessed she was.
“I’m sorry,” he said, not waiting for an answer. Anyway, he didn’t think one would come. “Do you have access to a car?”
“I can’t drive.”
“But is there a car here at the church? Something we can drive away in?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so. We didn’t come in a car. We ran here.” She blew out the candle, dousing them both in darkness once again. “Chris says not to leave the candles burning for too long.”
“Where is Chris now?”
“In the tower. He can see the whole town from up there.”
“What happened to my gun?”
The girl didn’t answer.
“I had a gun,” he said. “What happened to it?”
“Chris took it.”
“Why?”
“For protection. He said we needed weapons and God provided one for us.”
“God?”
“God sent you to us for protection. That’s what Chris says.”
“Terrific. How old is Chris?”
“Twenty.”
“And how old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
Todd was startled to feel the girl’s hand slide into one of his. He was too shocked to pull away. “I think I should see my friend now,” he said.
“What’s her name? Kate?”
“Yes. Can you take me to her?”
“I can do it in the dark,” the girl said. “I don’t even need to light the candle to take you.”
“I won’t be able to see where I’m going,” he said…although he was beginning to make out the lighter shades of darkness as moonlight struck a series of stained-glass windows. Directly above the chancel, he thought he could make out panels of glass in the ceiling, though the cloud cover on this night was too great to permit the moonlight’s full penetration.
“Just hold on to my hand,” she said, and stood up.
Head back against the headrest and her eyes closed, Shawna took in great whooping breaths. Beside her in the passenger seat, Nan wept almost soundlessly into her hands. As her heartbeat regained its normal rhythm, Shawna opened her eyes to find herself staring at a windshield that was completely covered in snow. She slid the rifle between the two seats, then gripped the steering wheel, if for no other reason than to anchor herself to some tangible form of reality. She could have been in a convertible cruising down a desert highway, the sun glinting off the chrome and the wind in her hair. It was all she could do to fight off the reality of her surroundings…and she surrendered to it before too long.
Also, the fucking car stank. She shifted in the seat and heard ice crystals crunching beneath her weig
ht. Leaning forward, she could make out what appeared to be frozen blood on the dashboard and along the console. She reached up and adjusted the rearview mirror until she could get a view of the backseat.
There was something dead back there. A person. She could make out a white, blood-streaked hand.
Oh Jesus oh Christ oh fuck oh Jesus…
“Calm down,” she told Nan. She reached down and cracked the window the slightest bit. The wind that whistled in was ice cold but it helped clear out the smell. “Nan, please calm down.”
Nan swiped at her eyes. Once she got her crying under control, she stared down at her hands. Her breath came out in little clouds of vapor and fogged up the windshield. “He’s dead. He’s really dead. You shot him.”
“He was dead before I shot him,” Shawna promised. “Believe me.”
“I know.”
Shawna reached out and felt the steering column. A sudden spark of hope ignited within her as her hand closed on a set of car keys in the ignition. She turned them but the car made no sound. “Goddamn it.”
“Fred already tried this car,” Nan said, her voice so small it was practically nonexistent. “He tried every one on this side of the street. That’s when that…that man came out of the shadows and started chasing us. The man you shot.” Nan turned to look at her, but Shawna could not face her. “What are we going to do?”
We’re going to sit here and freeze to death in this car, Shawna thought. Amazingly, the thought nearly sent her into a fit of laughter. Surely that would have calmed Nan. Sitting in a car with a crazy person…
“What if we just walked back out to the main road?” Nan suggested. “We could wait for another car to drive by and flag them down.”
“We’d never make it.”
“Well, we certainly can’t sit here all night, can we? We’ll freeze.”
“I know. I’m thinking.”
“It…it became real for a minute in there, didn’t it? That thing. When you set it on fire, you made it whole.”
“I know. I noticed.” She ran a hand through her tangled nest of hair. “Those oil drums outside, the ones with the fires burning in them? That was Jared’s idea. He noticed those things tend to stay away from anything too warm. Heat makes them tangible, and when they’re tangible they can be hurt, probably even killed. I think that’s why they get inside people to feed—the warmth of the human body makes them whole enough so that they can eat.”