Snow(31)

Todd fired the pistol at it but the bullet passed right through it. In his head, he heard Shawna saying, They’re like smoke.

That silvery filament grew brighter just as the semblance of an arm began to form. Once again, Todd could make out the curling blade of its arm…and he could see it grow into solidity right before his eyes.

This is where we die, he thought. We die now.

Then suddenly Kate was gone. He turned in time to see her legs being pulled inside the open door of the church.

Rolling onto his side, Todd thrust himself forward and through the doorway of the church. He struck the marble floor with enough force to knock the wind out of his lungs. Directly behind him he heard the massive door slam shut. And a moment after that, there came the sound of the creature’s bladed arm striking the wood. The sound was like a gunshot.

Todd Curry passed out.





CHAPTER ELEVEN



“Can you see them? Where’d they go?” This was Shawna, leaning against a magazine rack for support. Both Fred and Nan were peering out the windows, trying to locate exactly where Todd and Kate had gone.

“They went up that road,” Nan said, pointing. “Where does it go?”

“To St. John’s,” said Shawna.

“I don’t see them anymore,” said Nan. “It’s too dark.” She turned away from the window, a weakened expression on her face. “There were people chasing them.”

“Those weren’t people,” Shawna said.

Clutching the rifle, Fred turned away from the window and strode across the store toward the checkout counter. “They had guns,” he said, digging around in the ammo box again. “I could see them. They’ll be okay.”

“Will they?” Nan protested. “Will they really? You don’t know that.”

“They’re both quick and they’re both smart. With guns, they’ve got a good shot.”

Nan seemed to tremble. Shawna braced herself against the magazine rack and worried that the woman might actually explode.

“Stop it!” Nan shouted at Fred. “Stop lying to me! Stop telling me things will be all right when they’re not!” Tears burst from her eyes and spilled down her pale face. Her whole body trembled. “Just stop it!”

The outburst caught her husband off guard. “Nan…”

“I’m tired of it! I can’t pretend to believe you anymore!”

Without saying a word, Fred rushed to her and gathered her up in his big arms. Nan struck him once with a small fist, but there was no power behind it. He held her tighter and the sight of their embrace caused something vital to weaken inside Shawna. Then she looked up at the opening in the wall above the freezers that led to the ventilation shaft. Cold dread overcame her.

“Fred…Nan…”

They both turned to look at her.

“Look,” Shawna said, and pointed.

Like sparkling confetti, a light snow fell from the ventilation shaft and drifted down in front of the freezer doors. The snowflakes did not collect on the floor, however; they seemed to remain buoyant, as if by some invisible force, and they hovered in midair.

Fred slowly released Nan. He took a few silent steps backward, toward the checkout counter where he’d set down the rifle.

The cloud of snow coiled and twisted. Almost imperceptibly at first, a billow of snow bulged from the mass like a bud blossoming on a vine. Then, as quick as a lightning strike, the tendril of snow shot out and struck the rifle, knocking it down behind the counter.

Nan shrieked and staggered backward behind an aisle of canned goods. Fred froze, uncertain what to do next. The mass of snow began to clot, to become solid, while simultaneously encircling Fred as if in an embrace.

“Don’t let it touch you,” Shawna warned. She, too, had backed up behind an aisle of goods…only she already had her eye on a can of bug spray at the edge of the shelf. She reached for it, never taking her eyes from the swirling cloud of snow.

Fred seemed to be in a trance. He stared up at the swirling mass before him, eyes wide like those of a child. Almost hesitantly, he brought one hand up and actually grazed the snow; his fingers passed through the trembling snowcloud, leaving grooves in their wake. A look of absolute awe fall across Fred’s face.

“Don’t be fooled by it, Fred,” Shawna said. She had made her way closer to Fred, the canister of bug spray down at her side, hidden.

The distinct shape of a head peeled from the snowcloud and swung around to face Shawna. It was the face of a ghost, with dark, sightless pits for eyes. The longer she stared at it, the less tangible it became.

Fred slowly withdrew his hand from it, bringing it back down at his side…which was when the snowcloud became dense and sprouted overlong arms tipped in curling blades. A sound like a train squealing to a stop emanated from the creature. Nan screamed and knocked over an aisle of canned goods. The creature flickered briefly into nonexistence, then appeared again, this time facing Nan Wilkinson, its bladed arms raised like swords to strike.

“Fuck you!” Shawna screamed, and aimed the bug spray at the thing. As she depressed the trigger on the can, she brought up a Bic lighter and thumbed a flame into existence. The result was a makeshift blowtorch. A dazzling yellow pyre closed the distance between herself and the creature. The thing screamed in pain—a sound like a million windows shattering at once—as the heat from the flame forced the creature into solid form. In the firelight, Shawna could make out its humped, pale-skinned back and the vague nubs of its spinal column pressing the flesh taut. The flame ignited half its face, too, and it glared at her like a skull on fire. Its single eye burned like a fiery ember.