Ronald Malfi - Snow

“Check,” Nan said, hopping off the Coke cases and dodging down one of the aisles.

“I’ll go with you,” Kate said, pulling off her own coat now.

“Not a chance. I can do this.”

“What, do you think you’re suddenly on Survivor or something?” Kate said, pulling back her hair. “Didn’t we already have the ‘nobody goes off alone’ talk, buddy? Or do you need a refresher?”

“Here you go,” Nan said, handing Todd a screwdriver.

Todd climbed back up on the stack of soda cases and began unscrewing the ventilation grate.

“I can bitch and moan with the best of them,” Kate said, her arms now folded obstinately across her chest.

“Fine, fine. We’ll go together. Now grab something we can use as a weapon.”

With the vent cover off, the ventilation shaft looked smaller than Todd had originally thought. Standing on the cases of soda and peering into the opening, he could see that it cut sharply to the right. It would be a narrow squeeze. Although he wasn’t claustrophobic by nature, the idea of getting stuck in there suddenly terrified him.

He thought of Justin fast asleep in his race-car bed, the flannel blankets tucked securely under his chin. Glancing down at his watch, he saw that it was only ten minutes past midnight. With some uncertain emotions, he wondered if Brianna was still up waiting for him.

Kate and Nan returned with armfuls of supplies: plastic bags, rope, broom handles, two more flashlights, and a couple of long, serrated kitchen knives. Shawna hobbled over and handed Kate a pair of makeshift sheaths for the knives, made out of Bubble Wrap and electrical tape. “Stick ’em to your belt,” Shawna explained, “and those knives will slide in and out.”

“We’re like a couple of accidental warriors,” Kate replied, trying hard to sound upbeat.

“Use this so you won’t break your neck, Todd,” Fred said, carrying over a four-foot stepladder. “Those cases of Coke are starting to buckle.”

Todd nodded and clapped a hand on Fred’s shoulder. A brief father-and-son moment passed between the two men. Then they both became embarrassed and the moment was gone. Men are often their own worst enemies, Todd thought, setting up the stepladder beneath the ventilation opening.

“You sure you guys don’t want to take the rifle?” Fred asked.

“No. You hold on to it. We’re breaking into a gun store; we’ll have all we need right at our fingertips.”

“Just be careful, Todd.”

Again, Todd nodded.

“Look.” It was Nan, standing in the center of the store, looking out the plate-glass windows. Fresh snow was falling outside.

“I used to think that was so beautiful,” Shawna said. The saccharine tone of her voice sounded very unlike her. “But now I find myself distrusting it all.” She shot a worried look over at Todd. “That could be them. They’re the snow.”

Kate took a deep breath and moved one step closer to Todd. Instinct kicking in, Todd nearly reached out and took her hand, just barely catching himself at the last possible moment. Instead, he offered her a wan smile, which she returned with equal enthusiasm.

“Merry Christmas,” he said. “It’s after midnight.”

“It seems like we’ve been here a week already.”

“You ready to do this?”

“Yes.”

“All right. Let’s move.”

CHAPTER TEN

A serrated steak knife affixed to his belt in its Bubble Wrap scabbard, Todd climbed the stepladder and hoisted himself up into the ventilation shaft. His legs kicked out behind him and it required much more strength than he had expected to drag himself forward those first few feet. The shaft itself was about as wide as a coffin—and the comparison did very little to settle Todd’s nerves. His breath reverberated off the aluminum, echoing back into his ears.

He crawled a few feet farther, then paused while he listened to Kate follow him inside. She was a tough chick, Kate Jansen, although he knew there was a softer, more emotional side beneath the surface of her tough, self-reliant exterior. He had caught brief glimpses of it this evening, particularly out by the bronze statue when they’d first come across what looked like the guts of some large animal—or possibly a human being—strewn about in the snow. She was similar to Brianna that way. But of course, just look how all that had turned out.

The divorce wasn’t Brianna’s fault, he thought now, breathing warmth into his cupped hands, his shoulders pressing against the ceiling of the shaft. Brianna wasn’t the one with the problem. I can spend the rest of my life blaming her and hating her, but that won’t change the truth. And it won’t fix the future.

“Okay,” Kate whispered behind him, her voice echoing up through the aluminum chamber. “I’m good.”

Todd began to crawl along on his elbows, feeling the flimsy metal beneath him buckle slightly beneath his weight. It was foolish to have two people in here; their combined weight risked collapsing the structure. Then where would they be?

They continued crawling. Todd hoped to see moonlit slits spilling into the shaft from the ventilation grate on the gun shop’s side, but he could see nothing. Temporarily arrested by panic, he paused and wondered what the hell they’d do if the ductwork wasn’t connected. His heartbeat vibrated against the aluminum.

“You okay?” Kate said, very close behind him. He felt one of her hands graze his ankle. “Is it your leg?”

“Yeah,” he lied. “Just give me a sec.”

Coward, he thought, then pushed on.

He didn’t realize he’d had his eyes pressed shut until he finally opened them and saw those moon-colored slats of light issuing through the gun shop’s ventilation grate. Relief burned through him like a fever. “Up ahead,” he muttered.

“Now we’re cooking,” Kate returned, some humor in her voice.

He reached the grate and pressed his palms against it. It was identical to the one in the Pack-N-Go. The screws would only be accessible from the other side; he’d have to bang this one out of the frame to get it off, and only hoped that it wouldn’t make too much racket.

Before he did so, he pressed his nose to the slats and peered down into the gun shop.

The place looked as quiet and undisturbed as an ancient tomb. Moonlight spilled through the front windows through the twirling snow, casting a bluish-silver haze over the whole place. At that moment, he could have been convinced that he was the only living person on the planet.

“What do you see?” Kate whispered.

“Place is empty.”

“Are you…sure?”

“As sure as I can be, sitting up here in the crow’s nest.” He turned and tried to make out her features in the darkness. “You ready?”

“Let’s go.”

He fisted his hands and proceeded to bang them against the grate. It made less noise than he had anticipated, which was good, but it also felt sturdier than he’d thought, which was not good. It took a good minute to bang the grate out of shape enough for Todd to slip the blade of the knife between the grate and the drywall, and saw away chunks of the Sheetrock. The shaft quickly filled up with floating particles of drywall.

“Try not to breathe this shit in,” he told Kate.

“Just hurry up.” Her voice was muffled, as if she were speaking through the fabric of her shirt pulled over her mouth.

Finally, another two strikes against the grate, and the panel popped off the wall and clattered down to the floor below. Neither Todd nor Kate moved right away, listening to see if the noise had alerted anyone—or anything—else. But all remained silent. Todd pushed himself forward and was soon hanging upside down from the opening in the wall. Kate gripped hold of his ankles and helped ease him forward, but her strength wasn’t enough to combat his weight; she lost her grip and he went crashing to the floor.