Paul Curtin - Gray Snow

It wasn’t the way he wanted things to happen—the very idea made him sick to his stomach. But things needed to be done sometimes. Things he wasn’t necessarily comfortable with. He thought through the plan. It could work, but it was risky. Though not riskier than facing Michael head-on. That might get them both killed. The entire thing knotted up his stomach.

But Michael had forced his hand.

He hurried into the house without making a sound, sneaking in on his toes. His garb would make an astute mind question what was happening, but his target wasn’t all that astute. He felt bad for Kelly. She had experienced the worst of everything this whole ordeal offered and was still alive. Her life, though, would be over soon. Even if she held on a little while longer, once the food situation got truly dire, she would be the first to go. She barely weighed over ninety pounds and was deteriorating more each day. Starvation was a terrible way to die, and he was sparing her from it.

That’s what he told himself. That it was merciful.

He crept up next to her and shook her shoulder. She resisted waking at first but looked up at him after a few seconds. He pulled his scarf down and smiled at her. Pressed his finger against his lips. Motioned with his head for her to follow. She clearly didn’t understand, and so he motioned again. Kelly always expected the best in everyone. She was a sweet woman. But she was still living as if the ash hadn’t fallen—under the old code of things. She was trusting. So trusting.

She got out of her sleeping bag and followed his lead by sneaking around toward the garage door. She grabbed her coat and hat and gloves and cracked the door open. With a confused look, she went out into the cold air before him. Sean grabbed another coat from the couch before slipping through the door and shutting it behind him.

Kelly was sliding into her jacket and gloves. “Put my coat over yours. It’s freezing this morning,” he whispered. She paused, Sean removing his jacket and handing it to her. “You ready to learn?” he said, flashing a smile.

She slid his coat overtop her other one. “Learn what?”

He looked at her, dumfounded. “Michael didn’t tell you?”

She shook her head.

He sighed. “I’ve been thinking, I might not be around forever. Things happen. I think it’d be good if everyone knew how to chop wood, not just me and Elise and Michael.”

Sean pulled the other coat onto his shoulders. It was a lot thinner than his other one, but it didn’t matter. It only had to shield him from the elements long enough. Just long enough. “I should have told you myself. I thought he—I thought he told you.”

“He never told me anything.” She paused. “What’s going on, Sean?”

He blinked. They stared at one another for a few seconds, listening to the wind outside. “You need to know how to chop wood. It’s a very important—”

“I don’t want to die.” She looked down at the ground and then up to him. “I don’t.”

He smiled. Thought he was selling it. “What are you talking about?”

She looked to the side and back to him. “I’ll scream.”

He held his gaze on her and pounced. She didn’t see it coming, so by the time she could start yelling, it was too late. He sealed his hand around her mouth and peddled her back against the work bench. She screamed into his palm and coated it in warmth, the muffled sound eclipsed by the wind. She slapped his arms, but it was like taking blows from a child. With one hand, he grabbed a roll of duct tape, bit down on a corner, ripped a length, and tore it off. He stuck it to the end of the bench and looked Kelly in the eyes. Tears streamed down her face into his fingers. He said, “Please, Kelly. Stop. Kelly.”

She stopped screaming into his hand, but her body shook.

“I’m going to take my hand off.”

She nodded.

“Please don’t scream, okay? Please.”

She nodded, and he released his hand.

“Why?” she asked.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” she said, a tear dropping from her eye. “What’re you doing?”

“ I’m doing nothing. I just need you to walk outside. That’s it.”

She swallowed. “Who gave you the right to do this?”

“Do what?”

“Decide if I should live or die.”

He stopped and bowed his head before raising it. “I wish it was some other way. But it’s what seems best to me.”

“What seems best to you? That’s it? Just because you feel it doesn’t mean it’s right.”

He said nothing.

“What you feel is wrong.”

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

She blinked. More tears. “Oh, God. I’m not ready, I’m not—”

He snapped the tape from the workbench and pressed it onto her mouth. She started to scream just before he got it on, but the sound didn’t last long. She slapped at his arms, and he grabbed her wrists. “Stop. If you just do what I ask, it’ll be over quickly. Put your hood up.”

She sniffled and pulled the hood of his jacket over her head and looked back at him, her eyes red and puffed.

“I’m sorry, Kelly. You’ve been—you’ve been great to Aidan. And to Molly. I’m sorry. But everyone dies one day. Just know you’re helping Aidan—right now—listen, right now you’re helping him live as long as possible. If you just do like I ask, I promise you won’t suffer. I promise.”

Though he couldn’t keep that promise. It all depended on Michael’s aim. He puffed up the jacket on her shoulders and said, “You’re going to walk out to the stump. Put a chunk of wood on it, but don’t try to cut it. Just take the axe in your hand. Be very still and face away from the house, okay? If you don’t, I can’t guarantee the first shot will end it.”

She pleaded with her eyes.

“I’m sorry, okay? Don’t be scared. It’ll be like going to sleep.”

He picked up the rifle he had set on the wall earlier. He pulled the garage door open and tilted his head out the door, not meeting her eye. “Come on. Go.”

She listened. As she made the slow walk across the icy, dark snow, Sean lagged behind, stepping out only far enough so that his back was to the side of the garage. He slid along it away from the door, his rifle close to his chest and his knees bent. Kelly kept going. If she turned around, he would have to shoot her himself.

The thoughts came then. For a second Sean couldn’t breathe, watching her walk to her death, his own justifications growing weaker in his mind. Don’t do this. It must be done. You can still pull her back. He’ll see you. No, he won’t. Michael might kill you first. Not like this. Not like this.

Don’t think.

Sean grunted, slipped around the corner of the garage, and backtracked a few feet toward a fallen tree. Only some of it was left; he had hacked most of it for firewood, but it was a good vantage point of the backyard. And a good spot to hide behind. He planted his knees into the snow and brought his rifle over the top. Lowered his body, flipping up the two covers on both ends of his scope and positioning his phone on the log in front of him.

Kelly had the axe now. She placed a block of wood onto the cutting stump. Something was wrong. She was staying still, but every passing second made Sean wonder what Michael was thinking. He watched on the screen while Michael sat at the gun, looking down the mounted rifle scope. The shot had been in Michael’s crosshairs for a while now. Perhaps, he had overestimated Michael’s resolve. Sean kept his eyes darting between the screen and Kelly when—

A rifle popped.

Surprised, Sean ducked down below the plane of the fallen log. He knew Michael couldn’t see him, but the sudden rush blurred his reality. Slowly, he raised his head back up over the log, almost expecting to be shot. His shock waned, and he brought his eye back to the scope.