Charlotte hesitated. “We?”
“Hmm?”
“You said we can fire off enough rounds. You’re planning on taking us now?”
“You were right. At least you are now, under this new set of circumstances. I think I’m right that if we all keep quiet, they’ll eventually leave, but if they don’t, I can’t go to Sprague knowing they’re still lurking outside the cabin. Eventually they might approach, test the doors and windows. This place is secure, but it isn’t Fort Knox. Besides, if Lee showed up looking for assets, that means more stragglers might too. I doubt it—I don’t think anybody around here even knows about this place—but it’s not impossible.”
“Why wait until morning then?”
“What do you mean?”
“We still have a lot of daylight today. If the plan is to make a run for it, why suffer through the night? The kids won’t be able to sleep, and neither will we.”
“Because we’re waiting for them to move on. Like I’ve said several times now. Let’s give it a day and see.”
Charlotte shook her head, dismissing the possibility. “They know we’re here, and as long as they sit and stare at the house, they’re probably going to draw more. What if we count them today and by tomorrow there are twice the number?” She paused, waiting for my rebuttal, but I stayed quiet. “You know I’m right.”
“I don’t know—”
“If we can get to the car—if you really think we can make it—then we should go for it now. Just think of what it will look like out there in the morning. Do you really want to hear the screams of your children when they wake up and see an army of those things? Or the throngs that are now in the driveway on the porch? We need to stay proactive. We could get to Sprague before sundown if we’re out of here in the next half hour.”
My reflex was to argue further, to stick with my plan, one to which I had given far more thought than Charlotte had to hers. But as I considered both side by side, I could see she was right. There was no guarantee the White Ones would move on, and if they didn’t, ultimately they would start to move on the cottage. And, if the worst-case scenario came true and ten times as many appeared by morning, then we really would be trapped. “Okay,” I said nodding, “you’re right.”
Charlotte nodded back once. “Good. What do you need me to do?”
The Charlotte I knew and needed—the one I’d met at basic training a quarter century earlier—was now with me in full, ready to fight, prepared to do whatever it took to survive. She had begun to appear the moment Lee and his accomplice arrived in our driveway, arming herself in defense of her family. And now with her question, “What do you need me to do?” having been asked, the transformation of attitude and will seemed complete.
“Get whatever the kids need for the ride—and for a couple days more, in case we get off course.” ‘Off course’ was, of course, a euphemism for catastrophe, but any more detail from me would have been gratuitous, unnecessary. “And fill up Newton’s bowl, I guess. Water too.”
“Shouldn’t we take him? What if...you know?”
“Well, if ‘you know’ happens, that’ll be the end for Newton too. I think we should leave him. Stocked, of course, just in case something holds us up for a day or two, but we don’t need more responsibility than we already have. I’m going to load up the bag.”
I grabbed the soft rifle case from the closet and loaded it with additional weapons from the gun locker, including the second rifle and the two remaining handguns, as well as a hunting knife and a tomahawk. For good measure, I threw in the wooden fungo bat that I kept beneath the bed. I then stepped onto the porch like an Old West sheriff preparing to face off with the newly arrived bandit, and from there I stared out at the six White Ones who occupied the front of the cabin. I watched them curiously as their heads bobbed and their bodies swayed ever so slightly, seeming unconcerned with concluding their stakeout. I stood unmoving for several seconds, my fingertips still pressed against the door, holding them there until the very last moment as I slid slowly sideways. Finally, I took a half step to my right, testing the reaction. There was nothing noticeable, so I took a full stride, then another, until I was clear of the house and could measure the number of White Ones on the side of the house where the car was parked. I said a silent prayer as I turned my head around the corner, knowing if there were more than two or three—and even then it was a giant gamble—our escape plan would no longer be viable, and we would have to go with plan A, which meant waiting until morning and praying they left on their own.
I craned my neck around the corner of the house and had to stifle a gasp, one of relief. Other than the Explorer, the side of the cabin was empty. The time to leave had arrived.
As slowly as I exited the house, I re-entered, and as I walked quickly into the main living area to corral my family, I saw them already sitting in a row on the living room couch, lined up like worried students outside the principal’s office. The children’s eyes each locked on me with vacant stares of disbelief, waiting for whatever impossible plan I was about to unfurl.
“I, uh, said that you would give them the blueprints,” Charlotte said sheepishly.
I smiled at Charlotte and nodded. “Thanks for that.” I focused on the kids now, securing each one’s stares individually for a moment before moving to the next one in line, beginning with Emerson to my left and making my way down to Ryan at the opposite end. “First, I just want to tell you that it’s okay to be scared. It truly is. I’m a little scared. But being scared can be a good thing. It makes us pay attention, right? All that’s happened in these past few days is not something I or your mom ever would have expected to happen. Not in a million years. But...it’s happened, and now we have to deal with it. So, here’s what we’re going to do.” I turned and faced the door for a moment, weighing the plan once more, and then I turned back to the kids. “We’re going to leave, okay. Just for a few hours to go to the store.”
I waited for an interjection, but none immediately came.
“Mom will go first, and then, just in the order you’re sitting now, we’ll follow her. I’ll be in the back.”
I could see the doubt in Emerson’s eyes slowly come to life. “I thought you said they were going to leave? That we just had to wait them out? Why aren’t we doing that plan? And what about Newton?”
I was hoping none of the kids would have remembered the cat, but that was wishful thinking on my part. “You’re right,” I answered, “I did say that. And it’s true, they might leave. But your mom made a good point, and I think we should listen to it. We don’t want to get stranded in here if more come. We have a window now to get out, so we’re going to take it. We’re going to Sprague to look for some more supplies, and then when we come back, hopefully they’ll be gone.”
Emerson said nothing in response to that part of the answer, and I knew she was waiting for the bit about Newton. “We don’t take Newton when we go shopping at home, so we’re not going to take him now. He’ll be fine, and we’ll come back for him. I promise.”
Emerson looked down and shook her head, scoffing, but she didn’t argue further.
“Okay, so once we get outside, we’re just going to walk. Walk, okay? Not run. We don’t want to stir them up.”
“We weren’t running back at the gas station and they came after us,” Ryan reminded me.
I shrugged. “I don’t know, Ry. Maybe it was because we were isolated at Drew’s, away from home. But I was just out there now, and they didn’t make a move toward me.” I looked to Nelson. “Keep your eyes on the person in front of you, but if you happen to see something that scares you, just keep going. Calmly but quickly. Like you’re in a fire drill at school. And keep listening to what’s around you. No talking. If something needs to be said, it will come from me or your mom. Everything will be okay if you do what we say.”
I didn’t solicit questions, but I paused, giving space for them to be asked as I studied faces for any wrinkled brows of uncertainty. No one said a word, so I mo
tioned for everyone to rise. “You guys ready?”
The boys nodded; Emerson frowned and shrugged. “I guess.”
“I’ll take it. Let’s go.”
THANKFULLY, AS I USUALLY did whenever returning home, I had parked the Explorer close to the cabin, and had I been the only one making the journey, I could have leapt from the top of the porch and been in the driver’s seat within four or five seconds, fast enough that even the closest White One never would have touched me. But it wasn’t just me, and we had to be methodical in our trek to the SUV.
The five of us stood tall in a queue on the porch, Charlotte with her toes just over the edge of the top step, ready to march on my command. Ryan stood in front of me, the back of his head just reaching the level of my chest. Instinctually, he began to rotate his gaze toward the mutants, and I gently placed the tips of my fingers at his temples and shifted his head back in place, positioning his eyes straight over the top of Nelson’s head. Emerson and Nelson kept their stares straight, as instructed, but I could sense the draw of the creatures hovering beside them.
I barely twitched my neck as I shifted my eyes left, trying to measure the activity of the White One closest to the porch, the most likely candidate to be a problem once we began our march, and the one I would have to disintegrate with the .357 if it decided to attack. But, as was the case earlier, it gave no sign of interest in us, looking almost casual in its posture, unchallenging.
“All right, Char,” I murmured, “let’s do this.”
Charlotte was unarmed, deciding that my weapon would be enough for the fifteen yards or so we’d need to cover to reach the SUV. I was reluctant to agree to the decision, but she was probably right; more guns meant more potential for an accident, especially with the uncertainty of the beasts’ behaviors and the kids packed in so tightly. And Charlotte felt more comfortable with her hands free, to be able to gather any members of her flock who might panic and stray from the course.
She took the first step down, then the next, and with the third and final step, she was on the gravel surface at the northwest corner of the house. At that point, Emerson began her exodus down the steps behind her, with the next two kids following suit, hesitating for just a beat or two, remaining two steps behind the person in front. I lingered a bit longer in the back, turning in full now toward the six White Ones at the front of the cabin. With the steady movement now occurring in front of them, an indication of flight, perhaps, I fully expected them at some point to erupt from their cool surveillance into the ferocious attack from earlier. I took a deep breath and steeled my nerves, trying to envision the series of shots I would be required to make. But they simply watched us, giving no sign of aggression, and after waiting a few seconds more, I finally followed my family toward the car.
I reached the second of the three steps, and then I heard the scream.
It was Emerson; she was looking right, in the direction that I had surveyed minutes earlier and announced all clear.
My vision was still blocked by the house, but I could see Charlotte follow Emerson’s eyes, and as she met the same sight as her daughter, she gasped.
“Charlotte?” I said, my voice breaking on the first syllable.
Charlotte didn’t hesitate, and immediately she reached past Nelson and grabbed the collar on Ryan’s shirt, pulling him forward into Nelson, corralling both boys as she pushed Emerson with her free hand toward the car.
I quickly cleared the house and instantly saw the loping mutants, bounding forward on their knuckles in full primitive form. There were only two of them—thankfully—but they were already nearly upon Charlotte and the kids, whose perfectly ordered line had dissolved into a chaotic blob.
Twenty-five yards. Fifteen.
I took the first shot—a miss—and I could see from the corner of my eye Charlotte ducking reflexively at the sound of the gunshot. But she kept moving forward, keeping the kids on pace, now only steps from the car.
The errant shot had allowed the creatures to close the gap by half, three paces from the Explorer now, undaunted by the report or the bullet that had whizzed past them. I shot again, this time striking the lead White One at the top of the shoulder and knocking it sideways to the ground like a target in a shooting gallery. It lay unmoving in the grass, and I could only assume the bullet had gone straight through its arm and into its chest, piercing the heart.
The second beast had arrived at the car, and Charlotte began to scream. The back door was open, and though Ryan and Nelson had made it inside, they were exposed. I raised the gun again, but based on the configuration of bodies, I couldn’t risk another shot. A bullet, even if it was perfectly marked, could easily exit the monster and go anywhere, ricocheting off the metal of the car or the bone of the creature and torpedoing through the window to strike one of the boys, or in the opposite direction toward Charlotte and Emerson.
“Emerson!” I yelled. “Get to the roof!”
For perhaps the first time in eight years, there was no argument from my teenage daughter, and she scrambled to the hood of the Explorer and was on top of the SUV within seconds. I tucked the magnum in my belt and dropped the gun bag, and then I quickly unzipped the duffel, pulling out the baseball bat and the tomahawk.
“Dad! Watch out!”
I turned to see the monsters from the front of the yard beginning their promenade toward me, not rushing, but rather calculative in their movements, spreading wide as they came. And then I understood, finally and too late: it was a trap. It had been a trap all along, designed to lure us into a false sense of safety. The ones on the side had been hiding, knowing that we would never have risked the car had they been in plain sight. They knew I would scope out the area and make a judgement based on their presence. I presumed the six in front had been in on the ploy as well, allowing us to take our census of them and assume they alone made up the full congregation. And, finally, as they kept their calm while we stood still upon the porch, the illusion of complacency would be realized, ultimately leading to our ill-fated run for the car.
I looked back to Charlotte, who had moved around to the front of the SUV where she was banging on the hood, luring the mutant from the open back door and her sons inside. I felt tempted to call to Ryan to close the door and lock it, but my instincts kept me silent, telling me it might be better to keep it open.
Charlotte was protected for the moment by the bulk of the vehicle, and as she continued to pound the metal and yell for the monster to come for her, I could see her eyes darting toward Emerson, weighing the option to follow her daughter up to the roof. But her confidence failed her; she knew any stumble up to the hood or a slip of her foot on the glass might be the last mistake she ever made.
I checked again the encroaching monsters on my rear, and though they were still approaching, the noise from Charlotte seemed to caution them a bit, muting their speed. I had another twenty seconds before they arrived, so I focused like a surgeon on the immediate threat to Charlotte. I took three long strides toward the White Beast, which seemed either not to notice me or chose not to. In any case, it made no attempt to turn or defend itself, and, as a result, it didn’t see the swing of my arm as I plunged the thick steel blade of the tomahawk into the back of its skull.
Gravity pulled the weight of the dead creature toward the ground, but I held firmly to the weapon and dislodged it from the beast’s head with a gruesome sucking sound.
“Get in!” I yelled to Charlotte, and then I turned and faced the six monsters in front of me, which were lined up like a street gang that had trapped their quarry in a dark alley. I stared past the monsters to the weapons bag, where our guns rested innocuously inside beneath the afternoon sun, as if beckoning me to rescue them.
But the open back door was within arm’s reach, and as I turned to it, weighing the risk of making a play for the gun bag and the weapons that would carry us through this new world or simply settling for the safety of the back seat with the promise of living to fight another day, I caught the pleading eyes of my
son, Ryan, wheezing uncontrollably as he fought to pass air through his asthmatic lungs.
Charlotte was above him before I could fully process the attack, and as she plunged the nozzle of the inhaler into Ryan’s mouth and depressed the canister, she looked up at me, disbelieving. “Come on, David!” she ordered. “What are you waiting for?”
“The gun bag. It’s...I had to set it down. It’s just behind them.”
Charlotte looked to the area of the ground behind the hovering white monsters who had begun to move forward again and were now dangerously close to me, lethal if they suddenly took off in a sprint. She looked back to me again, her eyes soft now, consoling. “Come on, honey,” she repeated, this time her voice low and caring. “This doesn’t work without you. We’ll find more. Or another way.”
7: The Pharmacy
We reached Sprague in 80 minutes and didn’t see another moving car along the way. There were several vehicles littered sporadically along the side of the road, of course, empty and abandoned, some with rags in the windows indicating car trouble, most without. I couldn’t have said for certain whether the number of breakdowns was higher than on any typical drive in the past, but I knew in my heart it was.
The complete absence of traffic was certainly novel, but I considered the empty landscape a mixed bag, trying not to read too much into the barrenness. Perhaps everyone had already left town and was headed for the coasts, or to somewhere south where the promise of a shining winter sun loomed. It was even possible an update had come across the EMS advising these very notions, and we had simply yet to receive the broadcast.
I didn’t care much care though. I was done listening to advice from my government. For all I knew, they were guiding people to some specific place of their choosing, hoping to gather certain candidates to create more of the mutants, an army of them maybe, in preparation for some future, apocalyptic war. I didn’t believe that, obviously, I had seen with my own eyes the chaos at the edges of the Maripo County cordon; but the cynicism gave me an edge, a chip on my shoulder that kept my vision focused and my mind on the prize.
The Ghosts of Winter Page 6