Snow(70)

“Roger,” Kate said, nodding. Bruce had also shown her where the shotguns and shotgun shells were kept in case of an emergency. He’d shown her how to load and charge the weapon.

Brendan and Molly hugged. Bruce tousled the kids’ hair. From the doorway, Kate smiled at Todd. He winked at her and said, “Don’t look so disconsolate,” and Kate laughed and covered her mouth with one hand as tears welled up in her eyes.

They left.





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE



By the time they reached the entrance of the woods, a light snow had begun to fall. The three men cast wary glances toward the heavens and held their breath, each one wondering if they were about to be attacked. But the snow just fell, covering their tracks and powdering their clothes.

Their gear weighed them down. Walking along the culvert from the sheriff’s station down to the main road hadn’t been too difficult, but by the time they reached the edge of the woods, they were sweating and breathing heavily. Todd’s muscles ached and the wound on his injured leg throbbed with a dullness that was almost nauseating. They paused only once, leaning against trees while Bruce distributed cigarettes to each of them. They smoked and kept their eyes peeled for movement in the road above. They saw nothing, saw no one.

The climb down into the woods was steeper than Todd would have imagined. Bruce untangled a length of rope from his belt and tied one end around the bole of a sturdy tree. “We’ll go down like mountain climbers rappelling down the face of a cliff,” Bruce said.

Brendan went first, inching his way backward down the steep and icy decline, a flag of vapor smoldering from his lips. As cautious as he was, it took him a good seven or eight minutes to reach level ground. Exhausted, he collapsed against a tree to catch his breath.

Todd went next, descending in a similar fashion. Hand over hand, he fed the rope up and out while his booted feet were careful not to trip over each other. Halfway down, his heel struck a partially buried tree stump and he lost his grip on the rope. He fell backward but managed to spin halfway around in the air, so that he struck the sloping ground on his right side. The wind was knocked out of him as he started sliding toward the valley floor. Below, Brendan scrambled to his feet and stood like the goalie of an ice hockey team, his legs far apart and bent at the hips, as if to catch Todd on his way down. Luckily, though, Todd managed to snag a tree root and arrest his descent. His breath whistling from his throat and his nose running into his mouth, he glanced up at Bruce, who stood peering over the precipice seemingly a million miles above him, and smiled weakly.

Bruce must have seen the smile, because he raised a hand in return.

At the bottom of the incline, Todd approached Brendan while making sure all his gear was still secured to himself. Brendan clapped him on the back, his cheeks aflame from the cold. As Todd watched Bruce begin his descent, tears streamed from the corners of his eyes and froze midway down his cheeks.

When Bruce finally joined them on level ground, the sheriff’s deputy was panting like a bloodhound. The top of his head had gone a bright crimson.

They continued into the heart of the woods, crunching through previously undisturbed snow. “Have you noticed?” Brendan said at one point. “Not a single squirrel or bird, not even a deer. Listen.” They all stopped to listen. “Everything is totally quiet. I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything this quiet before.”

“Maybe they got to the animals first,” Todd suggested. The thought troubled him in ways he couldn’t quite understand—herds of zombielike deer galloping along a snowy countryside, attacking their brethren in fitful rages, impaling other animals and possibly people with their antlers.

“Haven’t seen any animals,” Bruce said as they continued through the woods. “Maybe they sensed this all coming and they skedaddled before the shit hit the fan. Like how farm animals always know when a tornado’s approaching.”

For some reason, that thought didn’t make Todd feel any better.

Ahead of them, Brendan stopped suddenly. Todd nearly walked into him, catching himself at the last minute. He began to say something but Brendan quickly shushed him. Then Brendan pointed off into the distance, where the trees crowded together like soldiers trying to keep warm on a cold winter’s night.

“What is it?” Todd said, whispering now. “What are you pointing at?”

“There.”

It took a few seconds for Todd’s eyes to adapt and relate to his brain what he was seeing: two children dressed in tattered, soiled clothing, the hair on their heads beaded with frozen clumps of ice.

They had no faces.

“Jesus,” Bruce said from behind Todd. “Jesus, will you look at that?”

Todd’s hands clenched. “What do we do?”

“Just stand tight for a minute,” Bruce told him. “I don’t think they see us.”

“I don’t think they can see us,” Brendan said. “My God, how in the world do you think—”

Behind the two children the trees seemed to disassemble themselves, until Todd realized that much of what he’d thought were trees were really just more faceless children, their skin the color and texture of bark, their clothes muddy and earthen in hue. They seemed to float right out of the trees like battlefield ghosts, each one’s face a blank bulb of flesh-colored putty. Todd counted twelve, thirteen of them…