Suffer the Children

by Craig DiLouie

  “No, not in a minute,” she groused. “Right now.” She grabbed two handfuls of snow at his feet with her pink mittens and flung them over her head. “Dad-deeeee!”

  “I will in a minute. Promise.”

  “You have to chip in, you know,” Megan added in a perfect imitation of her mother.

  Definitely the same blood there. The apple doesn’t fall far and all that.

  Nate tested boundaries like any other kid but otherwise didn’t give his old man lip. Doug had never hit his kids and never would, but his size was naturally intimidating. Megan, on the other hand, was turning into the mother-in-law he’d never had. A real nag, but he was totally fine with it. Little Meggie could do no wrong in his book.

  “I’ll see what I can do,” he told her. “Daddy’s trying real hard.”

  “Okay.” Megan returned to skating along her slow circuit. “Bye, Daddy!”

  He watched her go, noting with pride how she got right back up after falling.

  And he thought: My life is pretty fucking good.

  As always happened, once he gave up thinking about what he wanted to do and resigned himself to focusing on the kids, he loosened up and began to enjoy himself. Sometimes playing along. Other times, like now, just watching.

  One of the children took a nose dive onto the ice, producing gasps and a little laughter among the other kids.

  Doug winced. That had to hurt. Several of the older kids and adults gathered around and gawked. Doug’s eyes flickered to Nate and Megan to make sure they were still trucking.

  “Hey, partner.” Coral’s husband, Earl, sidled up to him, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. He wore an absurd plaid winter hat with floppy earflaps. “I thought I’d find you here. Girls’ day out, eh? How you been?”

  “Peachy,” said Doug. He cupped his hands to light a Winston.

  “What’s in the thermos?”

  “Hot chocolate. For the kids.”

  “Nothing stronger, huh?”

  “Nope. Don’t drink.” He watched the crowd grow around the fallen kid. It looked like somebody was going home with a sprained wrist or worse.

  The parents buzzed along the edge of the rink. Concussion, Doug heard.

  “Eh, too bad. I could really use a boost right about now.” Earl wiped his nose with the back of his glove. “Man, I wish I was off on my own today.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  “I’ll tell you what I’d rather be doing. You got yourself a snowmobile?”

  Doug resisted the urge to laugh in the man’s face. “No, Earl, I don’t have any snowmobile.”

  “Me and Coral just bought one. It’s a cross-country model. It’ll take you anywhere. Fuel-injected four-cylinder engine, easy steering, adjustable rear suspension. You know where Route Twenty-Three wraps around the lake?”

  “Yeah,” said Doug. “Hey, what’s going on over there, you think? That kid’s hurt bad, from the looks of it.”

  “There’s a little road about a mile before the evergreen farm,” Earl kept on, wrapped up in his petty boasting. “Takes you right into some fantastic open country where you can cut loose with some off-trail sledding. I’m taking Peter out there next weekend.”

  Doug grunted his irritation. Earl worked in heating and cooling and took home about as much money as Doug did, but he and Coral spent everything they earned, and then some, on themselves and their kids.

  Not Doug, though. He remembered the red-faced old regulars he’d seen huddled around the bar at Cody’s Bar so many years ago, slowly drinking their pension checks. They’d always talk about how things were better back in the day. Those old farts had worked factory jobs with union wages. All gone now. Times were tough all over. These days, a lot of folks in Lansdowne had to work two, even three jobs to put food on the table.

  Maybe Earl and Coral had the right idea, though. If you were screwed, why not borrow as much as you could, blow it having fun, and declare bankruptcy? Ten years later, you could be back on your feet. Doug pictured himself riding a snowmobile next weekend with Nate. He had a credit card; it was really that simple. They could have it all, at least for a while.

  But that wouldn’t be fair to the kids. Doug had a deep drive to see them do better in life than he had. Maybe Nate and Megan wouldn’t necessarily have a better future, but at least Doug could say he’d given them a fighting chance. And that meant putting every extra dollar they had away for college.

  Another kid, this one a little girl, fell face-first on the ice. She didn’t get up. Earl didn’t notice, blathering on about his snowmobile.

  “Something’s not right,” Doug murmured.

  “What’s that?” said Earl.

  A small boy’s knees buckled. He went down hard. Doug saw blood squirt from his nose on impact. Somebody screamed.

  There’s something wrong with the ice.

  “Megan!” he called. “Nate, come on over here now.”

  Parents crowded the edge of the rink, shouting out names. Three more kids fell all at once. The parents swarmed onto the rink. A flurry of panicked shrieks rent the air. Doug stepped onto the ice, almost lost his footing, and pushed through the crowd shouting for his kids.

  He slipped and fell hard. Pain flared in his hip. He hauled himself to his feet.

  “Megan! Nate!”

  He found his little girl sitting on the ice, crying into her mittens. The training aid lay on its side. Nate knelt behind her, arms locked around her body in a protective hug.

  Doug fell hard again. The thermos rolled away. A boot slammed into his head. He rose to his hands and knees with a groan and crawled.

  “Dad!” cried Nate.

  Doug enclosed his children in his arms. Was this enough to protect them? He glared at the people swirling around, ready to knock anybody flat if they so much as even looked at his boy and girl. His heart leaped in fear at the sight of bodies on the ice. Everybody was screaming. He couldn’t think. His head ached.

  “What’s going on, Dad?” said Nate. “Dad!”

  The ice is bad! Get them off the ice!

  He scooped the kids under his arms and glided across the ice until he reached the edge. He kept on going toward the parking lot, leaving the path and cutting through a snowy field.

  Halfway across, he set them down to check on them.

  “You all right?”

  Megan uncovered her face and yelled at the crowd behind: “Stop.”

  Doug sighed with relief. His kids were fine.

  He’d saved them from something, but he didn’t know what.

  Nate sniffed the air. “Somebody’s toast is burning.”

  Doug looked at him. “What?”

  Nate fell backward. His body thudded into the snow.

  Doug stared in disbelief. “Nate? Nate!”

  He crouched over his son and shook him. “Wake up. Come on, stop kidding around.”

  Nate didn’t move. His eyes were open. Glassy and staring at nothing.

  “Daddy, what’s wrong with him?”

  Doug spared a glance at Megan. “Nothing, princess.”

  He’s dead.

  “He’s fine.” He shook the boy again. “Come on, wake up. Wake up!”

  “Daddy, my head really hurts!”

  “Hang on, princess. Daddy has to—” His body tingled from his heart to his fingertips. He wheeled. “No, no, wait, wait, WAIT GODDAMN IT—”

  Megan fell onto her side. Her foot jerked several times. Then stopped.

  “Kids,” said Doug.

  He picked up Megan and hugged her. He felt numb. He couldn’t breathe. His vision swirled with dots of light.

  “I’ve got you,” he said. “Come on. We got to get you to a doctor. We’re going to fix this.”

  Megan’s head flopped against his shoulder. She felt much heavier than when he’d carried her this morning. He’d tossed her laughing in the air like she was nothing. He picked up Nate’s limp form with his other arm. Dead weight.

  He stumbled toward his truck in a daze. He di
dn’t make it. He fell to his knees with a long, primal cry of anguish. Behind him, panic had given way to shock and grief, the park quiet now except for intense sobbing and the odd scream.

  Across the entire park, not a single child was still alive.

  Ramona

  Hour of Herod Event

  Ramona had reached the end of her rope.

  The mall was hot, dry, and overcrowded. Josh wasn’t feeling well and had to be carried. He pestered her with a revolving list of demands: Let me walk by myself, take me to the LEGO store, I want a piece of gum. The promise of meeting Santa couldn’t compete with these needs that took on massive importance as soon as he thought of them. Every time she said no, he flew into a fresh rage.

  Screaming: “I don’t like Mommy anymore!”

  “Josh, stop this right now.”

  “I want to go to Joanie’s!”

  Good idea! thought Ramona. Monday, the start of another dull, grinding workweek spent in a fluorescent office, sounded perfect right about now.

  She tried once more to draw him out. “I love you even though you’re mad at me.”

  He wailed against her shoulder, leaving a smear of snot. The shoppers milled around her. She caught fragmentary glimpses of people’s faces, expressions of amusement and pity.

  “Josh.” Her voice hardened. “If you don’t stop right now, I’m taking you home.”

  He continued to cry and kick his legs.

  “All right.” She clenched her teeth. “That’s it. We’re not going to see Santa. We’re going home.”

  “No! No! I’ll stop crying.”

  He trembled in her arms. Ramona sensed his struggle to put a lid on his emotions. It reminded her he was four and this was what four-year-olds sometimes did. They threw tantrums. They lost control.

  “Hey, little man. It’s Santa’s castle. We made it!”

  He looked for himself and grinned at what he saw.

  Ramona wiped his face. “Do you want to see Santa?”

  “Okay.”

  “Then no more yelling at Mommy. That is not acceptable. Okay?”

  Josh looked down. “Okay.”

  The display was massive. Santa sat enthroned on a stage in front of a backdrop representing his workshop on the North Pole. Brilliant Christmas trees, giant bow-covered boxes, and piles of cotton snow completed the scene. A cute teenage girl dressed in an elf costume ushered a little boy onto Santa’s lap, where Santa spoke the magic words in his booming voice:

  “What’s YOUR name? Robbie? Well, Robbie, what do YOU want for Christmas?”

  Ramona thought the mall’s management had picked the perfect Santa—naturally rotund, and even the beard looked authentic. He had a kind, jolly face. The line of parents and their children snaked down the ramp onto the floor of the mall, where another elf greeted them.

  She tried to judge if Josh would be able to hold it together without another meltdown.

  “Santa,” he said in a reverent tone. He still rested his head, grinning, against her shoulder.

  That settled it. They’d come this far. She would have to try. The goal remained to create a happy memory for her boy.

  “Josh, do you have to pee or anything before we get in line?”

  “No, I’m okay, Mommy.”

  “Do you remember what you want to ask Santa to bring you on Christmas Day?”

  “I want a Bob the Builder tool set. And some trucks!”

  “Ho, ho, ho,” said Santa.

  Her arms and back ached from carrying his weight for so long. His body blazed with youthful heat. She was sweating in her coat. She wanted to put him down for a few minutes but was afraid of disturbing his equilibrium. He seemed better now. She wanted to keep him that way as long as she could.

  The line crawled along. Ramona rocked Josh in her arms. He began to fidget.

  “Do you want me to put you down?”

  “No.” He held on tighter.

  “Okay, let’s see . . . Did I ever tell you the story about the friendly monster?”

  “Tell me the story, Mommy.”

  If he liked monsters now, so be it. She’d indulge it. But she’d convince him the monsters weren’t scary. They were actually nice, if only you tried to make friends with them.

  “There was a monster who was tired of living all alone. He wanted to live in town with people, but the townspeople were scared and told the monster to stay away.”

  Josh, concerned: “He didn’t have any friends to play with?”

  She planted a kiss on his forehead. “Not a single friend. He was very sad. Then one day, the monster saw a little boy lost in the woods. The boy was afraid of him but was even more afraid of being lost. The monster took the boy’s hand in his big paw and took him home to his mommy. After that, everybody loved the monster and wanted to be friends with him. The end.”

  Josh looked up at her and smiled. “I like that story.”

  “I’m glad, little man.”

  “Can you tell me another one?”

  “Ramona?”

  She turned and yelped. Oh. My. God. “Oh, hey! Ross! What are you doing here?”

  He held up a bag. “Just some Christmas shopping.”

  “Right,” she said. “Um . . .”

  “I’m pretty much done, which is good, seeing as I’m completely shopped out. Thank God it’s only once a year, right?”

  “Yeah. You know, Ross . . .”

  “Don’t.” He laughed. “Honestly, we’re cool.”

  “No. No, I have to.”

  “Listen, I’m really not upset.”

  “Ross, no.” Her voice cracked. “That was the worst thing I’ve ever done to anyone in my entire career. I’m so sorry.”

  “Your kid had a medical emergency. If you’d stayed, what would that have said?”

  “Wow. You’re very nice. But it shouldn’t have happened. Not like that.”

  “You want the truth? I already had another job lined up, but I don’t start until January.”

  “Oh,” she said, processing this. No wonder he’d been slacking off.

  He shifted his gaze to Josh. “So who’s this little guy?”

  “This little guy is Josh,” she said with relief at the change of topic. “Say hi to Ross, Josh.”

  “How are you today?” said Ross. He smiled at Josh, who slowly smiled back.

  “He’s tired,” Ramona answered for him.

  “Mommy, I have to go pee-pee,” Josh said.

  “Josh, I asked you—” She stopped. Reminding him that she’d asked him less than ten minutes ago if he had to go would be a pointless exercise. “Can you hold it until after we see Santa?”

  “No, I have to go right now.”

  “We’re going to lose our place in line.”

  “Hey, listen,” said Ross. “I don’t have anything planned for the rest of the day. If you want to take him, I’ll hold your spot for you.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I honestly don’t mind.”

  “I really don’t want to hold you up or anything.”

  He gave her a shrewd look. “How about you buy me an Orange Julius on the way back, and we’ll call it even? Do we have a deal?”

  Ramona laughed. “Well, okay then. Yeah, it’s a deal.”

  They stood smiling at each other for a moment.

  Is he flirting with me?

  She again felt a little flutter of attraction, which she’d resisted more than once during the time they’d worked together.

  Except now you don’t work together anymore.

  Yeah, because she’d just fired him. Awkward didn’t begin to cover it.

  Don’t go crazy. It’s just flirting. You could use a little flirting.

  Which was true. She hadn’t been on a real date in months, unless she counted those Friday nights lying on the couch in her pajamas watching a romantic comedy and spending a little time with her vibrator afterward. She’d given up on dating for a while. Men pursued her but later ran scared from the responsibility of
playing dad to a sickly boy. It was too complicated, and after a while, they gave up.

  She wanted something more. She wanted the happiness Bethany had found with Brian. It was possible. It had to be.

  “Be right back then,” she said.

  A woman screamed.

  Ramona cringed at the bloodcurdling sound. On the stage, Santa held a limp child on his lap. The little girl’s limbs flopped loose as the old man stood and offered her to her dazed mother, who took the child in her arms.

  Dozens of shoppers froze where they stood and watched the scene.

  Ramona heard gasps as a second figure collapsed near the Gap. She saw people in their dark coats kneel around a small boy.

  In the distance, a scream. Then another. Ramona wheeled toward the sound.

  “What the hell is going on?” Ross said.

  The screams multiplied across the mall like a hellish choir.

  Josh buried his face against her chest and whimpered.

  “It’s okay, Josh,” she said. “It’s going to be all right.”

  “The kids,” Ross said.

  “What?”

  “Jesus, Ramona, it’s all the kids!”

  Ramona hugged Josh closer, her eyes wild, as the scene erupted in chaos.

  People sprinted in all directions, knocked each other down, stumbled over bodies. She caught a glimpse of children lying on the floor as if asleep. They’re dead, she realized with a sudden shock. Ross was right; something was happening to the kids. Her heart thumped against her ribs. Her vision shrank to a small circle.

  Only seconds ago, people had been milling about doing their Christmas shopping.

  “What’s happening?” she asked weakly.

  “I think we should get Josh out of here,” Ross said.

  Ramona turned toward the nearest exit as a woman smashed into her. Shopping bags crashed to the floor, where they were kicked and trampled to shreds. Ramona staggered but kept a tight hold on Josh, who howled into her coat. Ross grabbed her elbow.

  “Ramona, listen to me. Okay? We have to get out of here!”

  She saw everything clearly now, from a distance, the sound muted. People ran past in slow motion. Wrapping paper swirled around the runners’ feet. Tiny bodies sprawled on the ground amid clothes and toys. Ross stood with his arms spread, trying to protect her, his mouth moving. A man ran by holding a little girl in his arms. Blood poured from the girl’s nose and sprayed across the floor.