Ronald Malfi - Snow

Todd guided the Cherokee to a stop, then shut down the engine. He winced inwardly at the clunky mechanical whine it made before dying. He could feel Fred’s breath heavy on his neck as the older man leaned forward to stare at the carshaped hillock of snow.

“That your car, Eddie?” Todd asked, leaning over Kate’s lap to grab the flashlight he’d tossed in the glove compartment.

“Oh, sure,” Eddie said coolly from the backseat.

Todd climbed out of the Jeep, his boots crunching on the ice, and slowly approached the open car door. The interior light was dead, so as he crossed around the side of the car he could see nothing inside that narrow, black maw. Again, his mind summoned the image of the dead little girl strewn like a broken doll in the backseat, blood speckling the upholstery. He chased the thought away as quickly as possible, but not before it caused a cool sweat to overtake his entire body. Steeling himself for what he might find, he took a deep breath, then crouched beside the open car door. He clicked on the flashlight and emptied the soft yellow beam into the front seat. He remained like that for some time before rising and turning the flashlight off.

Then he turned and called back to the Cherokee, “Send him out here.”

Fred’s door cracked open and the older man got out. Eddie Clement followed him, wrapped in one of the scarves Todd had also purchased back at the airport. He seemed to be walking somewhat steadier now. Perhaps his muscles had had time to warm up in the Jeep.

Todd crooked a finger at Eddie. “Come here.”

Without a word, Eddie shuffled over to where Todd stood before the open car door, Fred Wilkinson right on his heels. The stranger kept his head down as he closed the distance and only looked up when he’d stopped walking, just two feet from Todd. His eyes simmered like cooling embers.

“Is this really your car?” Todd said.

“I told you that it was.” None of that deliberate elusiveness he’d displayed only a moment ago back in the Jeep. His voice had come out in an approximation of a growl, his head lowered just enough that he peered straight at Todd from beneath the Neanderthal crenellation of his brow.

“This car’s been here for more than an hour, Eddie. More than two hours, if I had to guess by the amount of snow it’s buried under.”

“It snowed hard,” Eddie said, his tone unchanged.

“Not that hard.” Todd clicked the flashlight back on and directed the beam to the steering column. “Where’s the keys?”

Eddie blinked.

“Where’s the keys, Eddie?”

“Ain’t they in the ignition?”

“No.”

Eddie went through the motions of patting down his pockets. Never once did he remove his eyes from Todd. When he slipped his hands back into the pockets of his flannel coat, he rolled his shoulders almost imperceptibly and said, “Guess I lost ’em.”

“How come I don’t see any footprints around the car? Not a single set, Eddie. Not yours, not your daughter’s.”

“Because of the snow, ” Eddie said. “I told you about how hard it was coming down, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Todd said, his voice nearly sticking to his throat. Back by the Jeep, Kate and Nan were standing in the glow of the remaining headlamp, huddling together to keep warm.

“What are you getting on about, anyway, buddy?” Eddie said. “I got a missing daughter out here somewhere and you’re quizzing me about where I last saw my goddamn car keys.”

He doesn’t mean it, Todd thought then. He’s only saying that because that’s what he thinks he should say. I’m looking in his eyes right now and I can tell he doesn’t give a shit about any missing daughter, if there even is one to begin with.

“I don’t think this is your car,” Todd said flatly. “And I don’t believe your story, Eddie. Something’s wrong here.”

“I feel it, too,” Fred piped up from over Eddie’s shoulder.

“Now I don’t know what game you’re trying to play, but you better find someone else to play it.”

Eddie blinked his eyes and took a hesitant step backward. He looked over at Fred and then at Kate and Nan before swinging his eyes back around to Todd. There was something different in them now, Todd noticed. Something muddy. Hidden.

“What’s wrong with you people?” And now Eddie’s voice did come out in a growl. “I need help out here and my daughter needs help, and you’re going to gang up on me, accuse me of…of…well, fuck, I don’t know what you’re accusing me of…”

“What’s the license plate number?” Fred said.

Both Eddie and Todd looked at him at the same time. Eddie managed a weak, “What?”

“The license plate,” Fred said. “If it’s your car, tell us the license plate number.”

Atta boy, Fred, Todd thought. That’s thinking, my man.

Eddie sucked his lower lip between his teeth and made a mssk-mssk sound. Again, his steel-colored eyes narrowed. Todd could almost hear the gears working in his head.

“PLO-744,” Eddie said after several empty seconds. “Louisiana plates.”

Fred trudged around to the front of the snow-covered vehicle, taking his time stepping up and over the jagged mounds of freezing snow, then paused at the front of the car. With his boot he swiped a trench through the snow down below the front grille, in the approximate place where the license plate should be. Todd only watched him for a moment, uncomfortable keeping his eyes off Eddie for too long. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he heard Fred Wilkinson sigh.

“What’s the score, Fred?” Todd called to him.

“PLO-744,” Fred answered. “Louisiana plates.”

Eddie Clement remained expressionless. If he felt any vindication, he was smart enough to know now was not the time to show it.

“All right,” Nan called to them. “Enough of this nonsense. We’re wasting time out here. We should get to that town and let the police know there’s a little girl lost out here somewhere.”

“That radiator won’t hold up too much longer, either,” Fred added, climbing back over the ridge of snow on the shoulder of the road. “We should get a move on.”

Eddie remained silent. His eyes were no longer boring into Todd’s; he’d turned them away and was gazing down the road in the direction they had come. There was moisture in their corners.

“Get back in the Jeep,” Todd told him.

Wordlessly, Eddie turned around and marched back to the Cherokee. Again, Todd saw the twin tears at the shoulders of the man’s coat. When Eddie climbed into the Cherokee’s open door, one of the tears parted like a mouth and Todd caught a glimpse of white flesh beneath.

CHAPTER FIVE

“There’s nothing here,” Kate said, leaning closer to peer out the windshield. The Cherokee’s remaining headlight did very little to illuminate the world around them, but what it did illuminate did not look promising. “There’s no town here. There’s nothing. ”

“Relax,” Todd said, easing the Cherokee around the bend and down a ribbon of frozen blacktop. Dark pines loomed on either side of the road. Up ahead, where they had all been anticipating the soft glow of civilization was nothing but darkness. “There’s bound to be someone. We took the right exit.”

“Maybe it was an old sign,” Fred said from the backseat. “Maybe Woodson doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Stop it.” It was Nan, her voice cold and on edge. “All of you, just stop it. You’re giving me the willies.”

The Cherokee shuddered and the dashboard lights flickered out. Todd felt the steering wheel grow rigid and uncooperative in his grasp.

“Did the car just die?” Kate said.