Ronald Malfi - Snow

“Stop it,” Kate said. Her eyes were on her shoes now. “Please. No more about this.”

Tully shrugged, the bottles jangling in the Superman backpack, and lit a cigarette. He didn’t offer one to either of them.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Todd had glimpsed the sheriff’s station from the church bell tower last night: it was a squat, square building made of brick, with very few windows, at the end of a winding, icy road. It sat between the fire hall and a run-down gas station that had probably looked just as run-down before any of this madness had come to the town of Woodson. Partially concealed by black firs, the station was hidden from the main road on three of its four sides, making it a good place to set up camp.

Tully led them to the large double doors—the kind of doors one would find on a gymnasium—that stood beneath an alcove of slatted wood. Metal trash cans stood like guards on either side of the doors; they were empty but reeked of kerosene. There was a shield fixed to the bricks, which read WOODSON SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT. Tully paused just before the doors and consulted the collection of keys dangling like gypsy charms from his belt. He quickly found the one he was looking for and shoved it in the lock, turned it. Then he looked over his shoulder at Todd and Kate while one hand unzipped his camouflage coat.

“They’re gonna want your shirts off,” he told them. “Sorry, ma’am.”

Inside, the place was as dark and as quiet as the surface of the moon. A tiled hallway stretched off into the distance, the tiles alternately black and white like a checkerboard. There was a bulletin board on the wall in the entranceway, crammed with papers that fluttered in the wind. Tully shut the doors and wove a heavy chain around the handles. He clamped it shut with a padlock, then pulled off his wool cap. Tight black curls sprouted from his head.

A light came on farther down the hall, from one of the offices. Tully made a whippoorwill noise and the silhouette of a head appeared out of the lighted doorway.

“That’s Brendan,” Tully grumbled, pulling his coat off. The tone of his voice suggested a distasteful attitude toward Brendan.

The man called Brendan exited the room and hustled quickly down the hallway toward them. He carried the light with him in the form of a halogen lantern. Halfway down the hall, Brendan called, “Who you got there, Tully?”

“Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck,” Tully retorted.

“Don’t fuck with me,” said Brendan. “I want to see your shoulders.”

Tully removed his bandolier and unbuttoned his shirt. The grim look he gave Todd and Kate suggested they follow his lead. Todd immediately began tugging off his shirt, while Kate moved a bit more reluctantly.

As Brendan drew closer, Todd could make out his features—pale, gaunt, vaguely studded with beard. His hair was a mop of unruly black coils and his eyes swam behind the lenses of thick glasses. He stopped a few feet in front of Todd and Kate, the lantern held up close to their faces for examination. Brendan licked his lips like a reptile.

“Let’s see,” said Brendan, shifting his gaze to Tully. Tully bared his exposed shoulders, which were loaded with pimples but otherwise normal, then climbed back into his shirt. Brendan turned back to Todd and Kate. “Both of you, too.”

Todd removed his shirt and turned around so that Brendan could examine his back.

“And the lady,” Brendan said, addressing Todd, for some strange reason. For the first time, Todd noticed a revolver poking out of Brendan’s narrow waistband.

“Better do it,” Todd told her.

Kate turned around and lifted her sweater over her head. Brendan held the lantern closer to her, illuminating the cuts and scrapes along her back. He reached out and hesitantly touched a particularly angry cut just below her right shoulder.

“She’s obviously fine,” Todd said, his tone suggesting Brendan remove his hand sooner rather than later.

Brendan’s hand snapped back and he clutched the lantern in both hands. He had a nervous, bouncy quality that made Todd want to strap him to a chair. “Where’d you two come from?” he wanted to know. “Ain’t from town.”

“Their car broke down outside of town last night,” Tully answered for them. “Their friends were killed.”

“Oh. Shoot.” Brendan’s voice wavered. “I’m Brendan Parker.”

Todd and Kate introduced themselves.

“Where are the others?” Tully asked Brendan as he continued down the hallway. Todd and Kate followed, while Brendan skirted ahead of them to keep up with Tully.

“Bruce is still fucking with those laptops,” Brendan said, “and Molly and the kids are downstairs in the basement. Did you find out what that fire was last night?”

“The church burned down,” Tully said.

“St. John’s? No shit? Damn.” Brendan eyeballed the Superman backpack still flung over Tully’s shoulder. “What’d you get?”

“Make yourself useful and get these two some warm clothes,” Tully said, ignoring the question. “And give me the lantern.”

“You got it,” Brendan said, handing over the lantern to Tully. Brendan nearly collided with Kate as he spun away and took off down the corridor.

“Jumpy little beanpole,” Todd commented.

Tully offered something that approximated a chuckle. “A week ago I wouldn’t have said two words to that squirmy little weasel.”

“Do you smell something?” Kate muttered to Todd.

“Yes. Smells like…”

“Hot dogs,” Kate finished. Grinned.

They walked past a large room filled with desks and empty holding cells. Todd could see that the windows had been boarded up and all cracks and creases secured with industrial gaffers tape. Tully kept moving, not stopping until he came to a second set of doors bathed in shadow at the end of the hall. Again, he produced a new key and unlocked the deadbolt. A resounding clang! echoed through the corridor.

The door was opened and Tully maneuvered himself down a narrow flight of stairs. Calling back over his shoulder, he said, “Watch out. Handrail’s gone.” Then Tully sank down into the murky depths of the stairwell, like a man wading out into the middle of a lake.

Todd went next, Kate’s hand suddenly appearing on his right shoulder. Beneath him, the stairwell swayed and creaked and threatened to collapse under his feet. He wondered just how far down they were going. All of a sudden, he was overly aware of the handgun at the small of his back. If this were some sort of trap, he’d have to be ready. For Kate’s sake, if not his own.

His shoes touched down on warped floorboards. Behind him, Kate almost stumbled but squeezed his shoulder for support before falling on him. Todd reached out and grabbed one of her hands.

“Thank you.”

He couldn’t see her face but she sounded extremely relieved.

Illuminated by the halogen lamp, Tully’s bright orange face hovered in the darkness before them like a harvest moon. “Hold this,” Tully said, handing Todd the lamp.

Bit by bit, the basement of the sheriff’s headquarters took on appearance: slatted wooden bookshelves drooping at angles over wood-paneled walls; a potbellied stove in the center of the room, around which someone had set a bunch of folding chairs; rows upon rows of rifles standing in a large shelving unit. There were unlit Chinese lanterns on bits of wire hanging from the exposed ceiling rafters, and a card table was erected in one corner, playing cards scattered on it. Toward the far end of the room, an enormous hulking furnace stood—dark and defunct.

Tully’s eyes looked like rat’s eyes in the lamplight. “Listen,” he grumbled. “You two wait here. Molly and the kids are still a bit jumpy. Let me tell them you’re here before you storm in on them. Otherwise, you’re liable to get your heads blown to bits.”