Ronald Malfi - Snow

Todd turned and looked back out the window. “Holy shit. That’s Nan and Shawna.” He went to pry open the window and call to them but the window was stuck.

“Stop that!” Chris shouted, jumping out of his chair.

“Those are my friends down there!”

“They’re as good as dead. Hey, stop trying to open that window!”

“I’m just try—”

A dull crack to the back of his head sent Todd sailing off into darkness.

Surprisingly, they crossed the town square without difficulty. In fact, it unnerved Shawna just how easy it was. With Nan close behind her, she crept down an alley between two storefronts and climbed through a wedge of pine trees on the other side. Several times she glanced over her shoulder to make sure Nan was keeping up. Each time, the older woman offered Shawna a tired smile but showed no signs of fatigue. She’s a tough old broad, Shawna thought.

“Be quiet,” Shawna said as they reached the cusp of the pine trees. Together they crouched down in the snow and peered across the street. The houses along Fairmont were just as dark and silent as the rest of the town. Shawna could make out her own home, nearly a stone’s throw away, with its dilapidated porch swing and Christmas decorations drooping from the eaves. Was this really Christmas morning? It seemed impossible.

The street itself was utterly quiet. From what she could tell from sitting in the Volkswagen, this was where those flashes of light had been coming from…but now she could see nothing but the infestation of deepening shadows. Snow still fell lazily—a sight that caused Shawna growing discomfort. I’m never going to look at snow the same way again, she thought…then on the heels of that: If I live through tonight.

“There,” Nan said, just as a white spark of light exploded on the front lawn of the Barristers’ house. “A downed power line.”

“Damn,” Shawna muttered. “I was hoping it would be the National Guard.”

“Which house is yours?” Nan asked.

Shawna pointed.

“Can we go there?”

“No. We can’t go in any of those houses.”

“Why not?”

“Because they’re not empty.”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s roughly twelve hundred people in this town. Those who aren’t dead are something else now. There are puppets in those houses. They look like people but they’re not people. Not anymore.”

“Like those people that chased Todd and Kate up to that church? And like what happened…happened to Fred?”

“No. They were something different. Those people were like socks—they serve a quick and hasty purpose. These other people…I think it’s what happens if the creatures take up permanent residence. Not just to feed, but to live among us. They act like people but they’re not really people. Real Invasion of the Body Snatchers bullshit.”

“Lord,” Nan said. “I’ve seen one. We picked him up out on the highway. He said his name was Eddie Clement and he was out looking for his daughter. And there was a daughter, and they ran off together.”

“It’s like if those creatures stay inside you too long they get stuck there. They become some strange hybrid of monster.”

“And they’re…in those houses?”

“Yes. Some of them, anyway. No way to tell which ones.”

“But if they’re still half people, we can talk to them. They might listen to us. They could—”

“No. They only look like people. They’re different now.”

Across the street the power line sparked and popped, lighting up the front of the Barristers’ house.

“We need to find a warm place to hide,” Shawna began. “I think we can make it over to—”

“Look.” Nan pointed farther down the street. “A little boy.”

But it wasn’t a little boy. Shawna knew better. The child—maybe six or seven years of age, judging by his size—stood in the center of Fairmont Street in nothing but his pajamas and bare feet. If it weren’t for the considerable distance between them and the wedge of pines that were shielding them from the roadway, Shawna would have sworn the damn thing was staring straight at them.

“What if he’s normal?” Nan said. “What if he needs help?”

“He’s not human,” Shawna assured her. “Not anymore.”

Nan was looking hard through the darkness at the boy’s frail and seemingly trustworthy frame. After a moment, she said, “Is there…there something wrong with his face?”

Shawna was busy patting down her pockets for extra rifle rounds. “Just stay back, Nan. Don’t leave the trees.”

“I think—”

Nan’s voice cut out. Shawna whipped around to see a blurry-faced figure emerge through the pines, one hand covering Nan’s mouth. The poor woman’s eyes blazed above the soot-covered knuckles. Nan’s legs kicked out as the figure dragged her backward through the trees.

Shawna lunged forward and grabbed Nan’s ankle. With her free hand, she swung the rifle around and jammed the butt against her shoulder. Aimed high. Pulled the trigger.

The pine trees shuddered. A low howl emanated from within the copse of trees. Nan’s legs were still kicking furiously, her body buried in the pines from her waist up. Shawna yanked Nan toward her but only succeeded in tearing Nan’s pants. Shawna fell back on her buttocks, the rifle thumping to the snow.

A strangled cry broke through the trees as Nan’s legs were swallowed up into the pines.

Grabbing the rifle, Shawna charged forward, pine branches whipping at her face. She cried out for Nan but the woman did not answer. She got the sense that the figure was dragging Nan through the trees just mere feet in front of her, but she could not catch up. Risking it, she raised the rifle up high and fired another shot. This one vanished into distant space. Shawna’s ears rang.

Finally she burst through the trees and spilled back out into the alleyway. Directly ahead of her, the figure was running at breakneck speed, dragging Nan behind him by her hair. Again, Shawna leveled the gun and fired two shots in a row. Both struck the figure in the back but did not slow him down.

“Shawwwwnaaaa!” Nan screamed as the figure dragged her out into the town square.

Shawna pursued, her lungs burning, her feet numb. Just as she reached the street, she saw the upper portion of the man’s body blur and lose consistency. It became a wavering shimmer of bright light and twirling snow. The figure launched up off the ground as it simultaneously became a cloud of rattling snow, carrying Nan Wilkinson with it.

Shawna raised the rifle…but there was no longer anything to shoot at…

Nan let out one final scream as she was carried off into the night sky.

“Jesus…” Shawna’s throat rasped.

The barefoot child in the pajamas appeared at the opposite end of the square. At this closer distance, Shawna could make out the smooth, unmarred convexity of flesh that made up the child’s face. There were no eyes, no mouth, no nose—just a fleshy bubble that appeared to drip down from the boy’s hairline.

Two more white moon-faces rose up from behind a parked car. Farther down the avenue, a mound of snow rose up off the ground like a missile rising up out of an underground silo.

Shawna turned and ran.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“This was Father Finnick’s stuff,” Meg said, lifting open the priest’s trunk. They were in a small room deep in the rectory, which was attached to the rear of the church. A tiny bed clung to one wall; above it hung an iron crucifix. In the closet, dark slacks and buttoned shirts hung neatly from wire hangers. On a small circular table sat a potted plant in desperate need of water.

“Thank you,” Kate said, kneeling down before the open trunk. It was filled with hand-stitched garments, embroidered stoles with gold trimming, and lavish robes made of a material that looked like silk but felt much heavier. “These are priest’s clothes.”