The Ghosts of Winter

by Christopher Coleman

  I watched the remaining creature as it slowly faded away, feeling almost sympathy for it now despite its continued desperate bounding leaps toward me. In minutes, we were back at the cabin with the doors locked, and before we began our discussion of what to do next, the five of us collapsed into a huddle on the living room couch and cried.

  CHARLOTTE AND I TRADED shifts for the rest of the day and into the night, six hours on and six hours off. We even included Emerson in two two-hour stints, just to allow us a bit more sleep, of which neither of us got much. Employing Emerson was more than just a patronizing role, however; if the world was on the verge of deterioration, or if it had already reached that point (a fact that I was beginning to accept more and more with each hour that passed), our daughter was going to have to grow up fast. She was a teenager, smart and reliable as far as girls her age went, and though I granted the point to Charlotte that she should have been staying up late and talking to her friends on the phone about the boys in her class or whatever, that was no longer to be her lot in the world, just as mine wasn’t to live in sunny retirement in the Keys twenty years down the road.

  The tension was high throughout the night, but morning eventually arrived, and there had been no signs of the Corrupted. Ryan came out twice during the night, both times on my shift, startling me on each occasion. He was having trouble sleeping, of course, but eventually sleep found him, probably a little after midnight. Nelson, on the other hand, had no problems, as few five-year-old boys do, though I doubted his dreams were pleasant ones.

  “David, come here.” Charlotte’s command from the kitchen, whispery, urgent.

  I looked at my watch—just after seven. I had been on the porch for several hours, well after the end of my shift, staring out at the lake. I knew sleep was best, but the rising sun told me to just stay up and face the day as it arrived. “What is it?” I called in through the screen door, the first words I’d spoken in hours.

  “Just...come here.” The tone of defeat was now present in Charlotte’s voice. Dread.

  My heart sank and I jolted from the chair, quickly arriving in the kitchen where Charlotte stood in front of the open refrigerator, her eyes directed toward the floor. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Look.”

  I walked beside her, to get the same vantage point, and I saw it immediately. The inside of the refrigerator was a wall of darkness.

  At some point during the night, while the house was asleep and the lights dimmed, we had lost power.

  I quickly rushed to the light switch and flicked it. Nothing.

  “I already tried, David. It’s out. There’s no power. This is it.” She looked up at me, pleading with her expression. “Right?”

  I looked around the room, unconsciously searching for Emerson or Ryan, not wanting them to see the buildup of anxiety which might cause them to spiral into the feeling of panic that I was experiencing. “Okay, listen, Charlotte. It’s going to be okay.”

  “Okay?” Charlotte’s voice teetered, and a single tear appeared at the junction where her cheek met her eye.

  I strode to her and put my arms around her, pulling her in close to me. “It is okay, Charlotte. Really. Considering. We expected this, right?”

  Charlotte pulled away from me, aggressively, her stare burning into the lenses of my eyes. “Expected this? No, David, I didn’t expect this. Jesus Christ, I...” She turned to the main area of the house, just as I had seconds earlier, searching for signs of children, and, finding the room empty, she turned back, her voice lower this time. “I killed two people today, David. Ran them over like I was in some post-apocalyptic movie from the 70s. And I was glad to do it. Thrilled. I felt a rage in my belly that I have never felt. That I didn’t even know was possible to feel.”

  “They aren’t people, Charlotte. You know that.”

  “I do? I know that? How? I mean, they were people at one time, right? We’ve all seen that video a thousand times, and yet no one ever admits it. ‘No proof,’ they always say. Sure. We know. Those were once people, and I mowed them down like—”

  “What difference does it make?” I shrugged, raising my eyebrows, encouraging her to give me an honest answer.

  Charlotte shook her head, as if she wanted to argue further but didn’t have the energy. “I don’t know. I...I don’t feel bad about what I did. I would have done that if they were people and would probably feel the same as I do now. I just...I can’t believe how fast it got to this point. The point where I don’t even care. I mean, I was driving Emerson to softball practice less than a week ago and worrying about how I was going to tell Brianna that I wouldn’t be available to work the fundraiser. And now we’re here.”

  I nodded, taking in the full value of Charlotte’s observation. I had already gone through my own version of the transformation in my mind, but Charlotte’s verbalization had brought the concept to a starker reality. “It is where we are,” I said. “And in case you’re having any doubts, or guilt, we were right to leave when we did. Just us. And I think you know it as well as I do. I think you and I both knew we’d be coming here eventually the day we saw that drone footage all those months ago.”

  Charlotte glanced at me and dropped her eyes again.

  “And when I said, ‘We expected this,’ I meant about losing power. I wasn’t hoping for it—obviously—but I think we both knew it was inevitable. Let’s just keep the fridge closed until it’s time to prepare a meal, and we’ll eat as much of the food in there as we can over the next few days. You guys got a lot of stuff at Drew’s today—and we brought plenty from home—so we’ll be okay for a couple of weeks, if necessary.”

  Charlotte nodded pragmatically. “And then what?”

  I was trying to stay hopeful, but there was no use trying to spin everything toward the positive, at least not with Charlotte. Any understatements I would save for the kids, and maybe then only for Nelson. “We’ll check the store again. Not tomorrow, but maybe the next day, and we’ll get everything that’s left, including fuel. And then we’ll add it all up and see how long things will last. But, yes, eventually we’ll run out of food and have to leave—we can’t just stay here and starve—so we’ll have to plan for that day over the next couple of weeks.” I saw a glimmer of hope in Charlotte’s eyes, and I allowed it to shine there for a moment, loving the warmth of it. And then I asked, “How much is left in Nelson’s inhaler?”

  Charlotte turned away, again angry at the question.

  “I’m sorry, Char, I know he hasn’t had an attack in a while, but it’s a thing we need to deal with.”

  This seemed to sober Charlotte, if only for the moment. “A month’s worth, maybe. Depends on how often he needs it. Last week was good, and so far this week. But who knows now?”

  Ryan had been diagnosed with mild persistent asthma only four months earlier, and I was still wrapping my head around what that meant in terms of his activity level and how to treat him. His doctor held off on prescribing any daily medication—thank goodness—but Ryan did have a rescue inhaler in the event of any flare ups. So far, they had been mostly rare and sporadic. “Okay, that’s good. But that will be another motivating factor, you know?”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that food is one thing, but it’s not the only thing to worry about. We’re going to have to make some decisions over the next couple weeks about fuel. Medicine. And not just albuterol. We have aspirin here, I think, but not much else.”

  “I brought just about everything we had from home. There’s plenty of Pepto and Neosporin and more Band-Aids than you could use in a year.”

  I nodded. “Okay, that’s good. But, honestly, I was thinking of more than just over-the-counter stuff. Antibiotics, for example.”

  “Really? Antibiotics? Do you have a stack of prescriptions that I don’t know about?”

  I scoffed lightly. “If there’s a pharmacy anywhere that is still up and running, then none of this discussion will matter. But we both know that’s not the case. You heard the messa
ge on the radio, Char.”

  Charlotte held her gaze on me and shook her head, an ironic grin creasing across her face. Despite her realization of how quickly we had arrived at this point, she was still trying to process it all.

  “And there’s another thing: at some point, we’re going to need to keep warm. Winter is still a couple months away, I know that, but we’ve never been here this time of the year, and it might get cold sooner than you think. And I’m guessing we didn’t bring our winter gear?”

  Charlotte closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead, a weary move to trigger her memory. “A bunch of sweaters, maybe. I don’t...I guess not.”

  I paused, building up the courage to say what came next. “Okay, so listen, and please don’t argue until you hear what I’ve got to say.”

  Charlotte’s eyes filled with pain as she prepared herself for the proposal.

  “I’m gonna make a run into Sprague.”

  “What?”

  “There’s a drugstore there. And a Wal mart. It’s still only been a couple days. We need to think about stocking up as much as we can, and the longer we wait, the less chance we have of doing that. If supplies aren’t gone already, they will be soon.”

  Charlotte squinted in disbelief, angry. “You’re seriously planning on leaving us?”

  “I’m not leaving you. I’m going to Sprague for supplies.”

  Charlotte shrugged, as if the answer to the debate was obvious. “Well, then we’re going with you. There, that’s settled.”

  “Charlotte, no. Even if—"

  A cry erupted from one of the bedrooms. Ryan and Nelson’s.

  In a moment, we were at the threshold of the room staring at Nelson, who was sitting up and facing the foot of his bed as he wheezed in panic, trying to get the air of the bedroom into his lungs. He looked to his mother and me, but Charlotte was already on the move, and within seconds, she was beside her son, placing the inhaler in his mouth.

  “Okay, okay. Just breathe. You’re okay. Shh shh shh.” Charlotte looked at me, her eyes soft now, a tacit acknowledgment that perhaps a supply run wasn’t the worst idea.

  Within moments, Nelson was breathing normally, and he hugged his mother. I walked to the bed now and sat beside my son. “Nelson? What happened, my man? What got you so excited?”

  Nelson lingered on his mother’s shoulder a few seconds more before he finally broke away and sat propped against the headboard. He stared at me.

  “What is it, Nelson? Did you have a bad dream?”

  Nelson took several deep breaths and then swallowed. He shook his head.

  “No? What happened?” I turned to Ryan now, who was also sitting up, still in the haze of sleep. “Did something happen, Ryan?”

  He shrugged.

  I looked to Nelson again, preparing to position him back into his bed to continue sleeping, but he had turned toward the window and was focused on something outside. “They were there.”

  Charlotte immediately stood and backed away from the bed, staring at the window as if it were poisonous. She moved in again and pulled Nelson from the mattress and then backed across the room to Ryan’s bed, sitting him there. I immediately rushed to the window and placed my forehead against the glass, cupping my hands around my eyes to kill the glare of morning. I anticipated seeing a group of them out there, resting on their haunches, perhaps a gang loitering in the small garden in front of the house, others atop the SUV, lurking and waiting the way they had back at the gas pumps.

  But there was nothing, only the light movement of shadows cast from the sway of the trees above. I sighed and then lifted my eyes, gazing beyond the yard to the serpentine driveway that ran from the house to Campbell Farm Road, in the area where the overgrown gravel began its bend at the large maple.

  And there they were, not the Corrupted, who, as far as we knew, were still in the beginning stages of taking over the world, but a pair of men, barely detectable behind the trunk of the tree at the road’s elbow, uncorrupted by the new definition of the word, but with postures suggesting they embodied the old meaning.

  5: The White Ones

  I watched as the men approached the house, slowly, insouciantly, as if they were returning from a fishing hole on a Sunday afternoon, in no hurry to return to the daily routine of home.

  “What is it, David?”

  “I don’t know. Can you get my binoculars for me?” I tried to keep my tone level, but there was no hiding the strain from Charlotte.

  “David?”

  I kept my eyes on the men. “Please, Charlotte.”

  Charlotte retrieved my binoculars from the top of the gun locker and brought them to me, and within seconds of focusing on the two faces, I recognized one immediately. Lee, co-owner of Drew’s convenience store.

  The second man I didn’t recognize, but he looked as if he could have been Lee’s brother. “It’s Lee,” I said. “And another man.”

  “Lee?” Charlotte replied. “As in ‘Lee’ from the store.”

  I nodded, my eyes still ratcheted into the eyepiece of the binoculars.

  “What...what do you mean? Why?” Charlotte stood, leaving Ryan and Nelson on the bed together, and then she joined me at the window, watching as the men strolled toward us. “Who is the other one?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is that a gun behind him?”

  Lee had what appeared to be a hunting rifle slung across his back. “Looks like it.”

  As we assessed the scene further, in silence, the opening and slamming of the front door suddenly jolted us.

  Emerson.

  I rushed to the front of the cabin and opened the door, and it was indeed Emerson, now standing on the porch at the top of the stairs, frozen as she watched the two men approach. I stood beside her, matching her posture.

  “I...I was just coming to get something from the car,” she said, not turning; it was almost an apology.

  “It’s fine, Em.” I rubbed the top of her arm. “Go back inside.”

  Emerson nodded once and then backed her way past me, finally turning and heading back into the house.

  I stood tall at the edge of the porch and watched the men continue forward, and when they reached a point where they were about fifty yards away, within earshot, I called, “Can I help you gentlemen?”

  At the sound of my voice, they stopped, Lee a few paces ahead of his friend or brother. “Howdy, Mr. Willis,” Lee answered. “It’s Lee, from Drew’s.”

  “What can I do for you, Lee?”

  “Yeah, well, we had a little trouble down at the store recently. Wondering if you can help me out.”

  Lee’s words sounded tainted with sarcasm and aggression; his understatement of ‘a little trouble’ at his store an indication of deceit. “Yeah, I noticed that yesterday.”

  There was a long silence. “So, you were there?”

  “I was,” I called with no trace of defensiveness. “It looked like a twister touched down inside. I paid for my gas and left money for the food we took. Thought the place was abandoned, Lee. There wasn’t anyone there.”

  “Uh huh. Well, as I said, we had some trouble.” Another pregnant silence. “The thing is, Mr. Willis, I’m gonna need back that food you took.”

  I knew the demand was coming, and I had already decided that if the food was all they wanted, I would compromise and give it to them, at least some of it. I had left forty dollars on the counter, that was true, but the amount we took was almost certainly worth more than that. Thus, to be fair, he was at least entitled to the surplus. “No problem. Wait right there if you don’t mind and I’ll bring it out to you.”

  “Mind if we come inside?”

  Charlotte and I already had the discussion back at the overlook—or at least Charlotte had decided for us. We minded very much. No one was coming inside. “’Fraid now’s not a good time, Lee.” I changed the subject. “That said, don’t think it’s a good idea for you boys to be out on the road. Where’s your truck?”

  “Dad took it three days a
go. Into Sprague. Haven’t seen him since.”

  I looked down and to the side with reverence. “I’m sorry about that.” I looked up. “You do know what’s happening, right? I mean, you must. It was all breaking the other day when we were in your store.”

  I could see Lee nod. “Yeah, I know.”

  I nodded back, feeling like, at least for the moment, I had held them to a stalemate, maybe even have talked the men down from whatever criminal decision they had made on their way to the cabin. “Well, anyway, I can’t invite you in, but I will be back with your food.”

  I paused a moment longer, staring at the men, my chin high and my chest extended, ensuring they held their ground. Finally, when neither man moved, I stepped back inside and immediately opened the gun locker and removed the shotgun.

  “What’s going on?” Charlotte asked breathlessly. “David, what do they want?”

  “The food we took yesterday. I need you to get together as much as you can and bring it to the door.” I loaded the shotgun with two shells from one of several boxes on the upper shelf of the locker. “We’re gonna give back as much as we can afford to. Not the stuff in the fridge though; they’ll have no use for it anyway.”

  “Is that gonna be enough? Oh, god, David, they’re not trying to come inside are they? They can’t come in.” Charlotte held her eyes on me, daring me to go against our agreement.

  I shook my head. “They’re not coming in. But let’s just do this as fast as we can. The quicker we get this over with the better.”

  “Did you see them?” The voice came from waist level. It was Nelson.

  “It’s Mr. Lee, Nelson. From the store. It’s okay, I’m talking to him right now.”

  Nelson shook his head. “No, did you see them? The white ones?”

  The White Ones.

  I stopped breathing for a beat and then set the shotgun on the kitchen table. I stooped to Nelson’s eye level and swallowed. “You saw them? Outside your room? Is that what scared you?”