Snow(32)

The creature swung one of its massive arms, knocking the can of bug spray from Shawna’s hand. Its back and the side of its face still on fire, it whirled around and shrieked at Shawna, bearing down on her like a looming thunderhead. The smell of the thing was like burning rubber, like human waste set ablaze.

Shawna rolled into the next aisle just as soda cans exploded from the heat. She felt something sharp and unforgiving strike her right hip, then ricochet off into the darkness. Jumping to her feet, she ran to the other end of the store and didn’t look back until she’d struck the far wall.

The creature was directly above Fred, who was staggering down one of the aisles toward his wife. Those bladed arms materialized again, poised like the arms of a praying mantis. Before Shawna could react, she saw the thing plunge the twin knives of its arms into Fred’s shoulder blades. Speared, Fred jerked and floundered, his feet swinging loosely beneath him. Blood frothed at his lips and his eyes bugged out like headlights.

The fire had burned itself out along the creature’s back, leaving behind the merest hint of a charred and rubbery-looking carapace. It raised itself up on Fred’s shoulders, working its twin blades deeper and deeper into the man’s flesh. Blood soaked the back of Fred’s shirt. Petrified, Nan could only watch while cowering in a corner.

Shawna dove behind the checkout counter and fumbled around in the darkness for the rifle. Something leaked into her eyes—blood?—and for a moment she couldn’t see anything. Then one hand closed around the butt of the gun and she yanked it up off the floor. Gun at the ready, Shawna popped up from behind the checkout counter.

The creature was halfway inside Fred Wilkinson. It dematerialized into a shadow, an apparition, and melded with Fred’s body like a soul reclaiming its corpse. Fred’s eyes blinked and some bastardization of life resurfaced in his face. Like a marionette, his head swung woodenly toward Nan. The grin on his face was that of a Halloween pumpkin.

Nan cried out and tried to make herself smaller in the corner of the store.

Shawna leveled the gun at Fred and fired a single round. The bullet missed, striking one of the plate-glass windows instead, where it webbed the glass with fissures.

The Fred-thing pivoted in Shawna’s direction. For a millisecond, Shawna could see the creature riding Fred’s back, working him like a puppet, engineering the man’s movements and expressions.

“Don’t shoot him!” Nan screamed from the other end of the store. “Please!”

Shawna focused her concentration and fired a second shot. This one struck Fred in the lower abdomen, sending a fountain of blackish goop spouting out from his back. The grin never faltered from Fred’s face. He took a step toward her, his leg a bit unsteady, his body wobbly.

It’s a new body, Shawna had time to think. It’s still getting used to working it.

She attempted to fire a third shot but the rifle just offered a hollow click.

Empty.

Motherf*cker!

She drove one fist into the carton of ammunition and hastily loaded one round into the rifle. Fred was closing the distance more steadily now. Black strips of foam slavered from his mouth and each footstep left behind bloody prints on the linoleum.

Shawna charged the weapon, swung it against one shoulder, and pulled the trigger one last time.

Fred Wilkinson’s head was replaced by a cloud of red mist.

Shawna wasted no time—she grabbed another fistful of rounds, then hopped over the checkout counter, the rifle slung over one shoulder. As Fred’s body began to buck and tremble on the floor, Shawna slammed against Nan and shoved her toward the front door.

“Fred! Fred!” Nan wouldn’t stop screaming.

Shawna shoved her aside and flipped the deadbolt on the door. As she kicked the door open, freezing air washed into the Pack-N-Go like a tidal wave. It whipped her hair into her face, temporarily blinding her. She groped for Nan, caught a fistful of the woman’s coat, and yanked her through the doorway.

The town square was deserted. Still dragging Nan behind her, Shawna hurried across the square toward the opposite end of the street. She knew all the shops were locked up and, in some cases, barricaded. They would get no reprieve there. Instead, she dragged Nan toward the nearest vehicle—a Volkswagen Beetle with its driver’s side door standing open.

Nan collapsed to the snow, sobbing. Shawna staggered, considered leaving the old woman right there on the ground…then thought better of it.

“Come on!” she shouted at Nan. “We have to go!”

“Oh, Fred,” Nan sobbed. “Oh…”

Shawna dropped down beside her. “Please, Nan. We have to go. Please, okay? I don’t want to die out here. Please.”

Nan nodded. She swiped at her eyes with the heels of her hands, then stood up without any assistance.

Across the square, the windows of the Pack-N-Go exploded.

“Get in!” Shawna screamed, shoving Nan forward into the open door of the Volkswagen. The older woman lost her balance and went sprawling over the seat, her frail legs kicking. Shawna didn’t wait for Nan to climb into the passenger seat; she jumped in on top of her and slammed the driver’s side door shut.





CHAPTER TWELVE



Slowly, Todd’s eyes unstuck. And his first thought was, I’m blind. He couldn’t see a damn thing. He was lying down on something hard and uncomfortable, and although he was without sight, he got the sense that the darkness was expansive. Like waking up in a giant cave.