Blake Crouch - Snowbound

The bolt slid back into the door frame and Devlin leaned against the wall beside the door.

She wept soundlessly, praying her mother wasn’t present, that she’d managed to transport herself to another place and time—a childhood memory, her wedding day, perhaps a family holiday, like the Christmas they’d spent eight years ago in Tahiti, opening presents at sunrise on the beach.

FORTY-NINE

When Reynolds had finished with her mother, Devlin crept back to room 420, and shut herself inside.

She waited for hours, huddled in a corner, out of eyesight from the peephole, watching the gray sky fade up, plateau, and begin its short return to darkness. She was hungry, thirsty. She prayed for Kalyn, her father and mother, and despite everything, just knowing that Rachael was four doors down brought her a comfort she hadn’t felt in years.

Dusk had come when Devlin decided it was time to leave the lodge and head back to the tent.

She got up and walked to the window, saw it was still snowing, the landscape gray and bleak. The long inner lake was wind-stirred, small waves lapping at the snowy shore, and the snow-bowed spruce trees stood completely white as she looked down on them from four floors above.

Devlin went to the door, glanced out the peephole, the corridor empty from her vantage. She slipped outside and ran down to 429, peeked through the peephole, saw her mother asleep in bed.

Devlin moved quietly toward the stairwell, descended to the first floor, and crept down the corridor, stopping along the way in 119 to retrieve her parka and snow pants.

She finally emerged into the lobby. It smelled of wood smoke, a fire burning in the freestanding hearth, and someone had placed candles on the newels of the staircase. Lanterns, mounted to the walls, glowed with firelight, casting strange shadows on the stone floor. Noise and more light emanated from the archway at the other end of the lobby, adjacent to the library.

She stole up to it, light and sound filling the passage, wonderful smells wafting out from the dining hall, accompanied by the voices of fucked-out, happy Texans.

Supper. Her stomach ached, but the thought of eating snow outside, that she might at least quench her thirst, spurred her on.

Devlin glanced at the front entrance but decided it would be safer to depart the way she’d come, down through the cellar, out the door under the veranda.

She walked into the library, which was empty and warm.

As she reached to open the cellar door, someone raced in, and a hand covered her mouth before she even had a chance to turn around.

“Don’t scream, baby. It’s just me.”

Kalyn let her go, and the girl and the woman embraced, Devlin flushing with relief.

Kalyn quietly closed the library door and knelt down with Devlin by the hearth, said, “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I’ve been hiding. Have you seen my dad?”

“No, honey.”

Devlin tried to reassure herself. Doesn’t mean he’s dead, she thought. She said, “My mom’s here. She’s alive, so maybe your sister is—”

“I know, I already found her.”

“Where?”

“She’s in a room on the second floor of the north wing, where they keep most of the pregnant women.”

“What happened to you last night?”

“The wolves came after me when I went outside to pee. I got myself treed. Stayed up there until first light, then finally found my way here a few hours ago.”

“You know what this place is?”

“I’d like to burn it to the fucking ground.”

“I was heading back to the tent, Kalyn. I thought I’d spend the night there, hike down to the outer lake in the morning, wait for our pilot to come so I could get help.”

“Yeah, that’s probably our best course of action.”

Devlin got up, opened the cellar door. “I came in from here. I think it’s the safest—”

Kalyn shook her head. “That’s where they keep the wolves. Come on. I know a better way.”

Kalyn led her out of the library, into the adjacent passage, and up a stairwell that branched off to the right.

Climbing, Devlin noticed blood spatters across the hem of Kalyn’s pink down jacket.

After two flights of stairs, they emerged into a short corridor lined with several unmarked doors. Kalyn glanced back, put a finger to her lips. Devlin nodded.

They proceeded to the last door on the corridor, stopping just shy of it.

Kalyn turned and whispered, “Wait here for a minute.”

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.”

Kalyn stepped forward, palmed the doorknob, turned it, and went inside, the door closing softly after her.

Devlin waited, the ceiling lights humming above her. Then the building rumbled again and the overhead lights cut out, a vacuum of silence filled only by the hiss of the lanterns mounted to the corridor walls.

The door opened and Kalyn poked her head out.

“All right, come on,” she whispered.

Kalyn took her by the hand, pulled her inside, and closed the door.

Devlin found herself standing in an expansive bedroom suite with a low fire burning in the hearth.

She didn’t notice the man until he spoke.

“How old are you, Devlin?” His voice was soft, almost a falsetto, tinged with a slight accent that Devlin couldn’t place due to the confusion and the sudden banging racket of her heart.

He set down a book and rose from the recliner beside the fireplace, removed his wire-rim glasses so he could look Devlin up and down.

“Did you not hear my question?” he asked.

Devlin looked at Kalyn, who just said, “Answer him.”

“What’s happening?”

“ Answer him.”

“Sixteen.”

The man nodded. “You favor your mother.”

Kalyn said, “So, Paul? We good?”

Devlin ripped her hand out of Kalyn’s grasp and backpedaled into the wall beside the door. She stared at Paul. His vest, wire-rim glasses, and banker’s haircut struck her as incongruous, given his apparent station in the lodge.

“What are you doing, Kalyn?” she asked.

“Are we all set, Paul?”

“We still have the matter of Gerald. He was a good man. Had been with me for—”

“You can’t hire another guard?”

“What are you doing, Kalyn?” Devlin asked again.

Kalyn looked at her, just shook her head. “I don’t have a choice here, okay?”

“A choice? About what?”

Paul said, “Okay, we’ll call it good as soon as you find Rachael’s husband and bring him to me.”

“And then you’ll fly Lucy and me out of here first thing tomorrow?”

“Weather permitting.”

“How do I know?”

“What?”

“That you’ll keep your end.”

Paul shrugged. “Guess I’ll have to earn your trust.”

Devlin reached into the pocket of her parka, fingers grazing the .357, thinking, I should’ve taken it out, made sure it was loaded earlier today. I don’t even know how to use this thing.

Devlin ran her thumb over the hammer. In the movies, she’d seen people pull on it. She tried, and the cylinder made a clicking sound, the hammer locked back.

“You gonna kill him?” Kalyn asked.

“You really wanna know?”

Before anyone had noticed, she was bringing up the .357 and aiming it at the center of Paul’s chest. She could barely see the revolver, the metal dull in the low light. It felt so heavy, smelled of oil.

Paul was the first to notice, and he said, “You stupid cunt, you didn’t frisk her.”

Devlin said, “Go stand beside him, Kalyn.”

“Devlin—”

Devlin swung the gun toward Kalyn.

“All right.”

As Kalyn approached him, Paul said, “Your first time holding a gun, Ms. Innis?”

“Why are you doing this to us, Kalyn?”