Snowball

by Gregory Bastianelli

Shelby hugged herself. “I’m not sure. Just wondering when we’re going to get out of here.”

  “We’ll get out eventually,” Clark said, trying to reassure her.

  “But what’s taking so long? Why hasn’t anyone tried to come by? In either direction? Isn’t that odd?”

  “They must have shut down the highway.”

  “But wouldn’t they think people would still be on it? It doesn’t make sense.”

  Graham knew she was right, but understood Clark’s attempts to reassure her. It wouldn’t do any good for any of them to panic. “I’m sure there are lots of rescue personnel out taking care of lots of emergencies. They just haven’t gotten to us yet. I bet the power is out everywhere. We know the cell towers are all down, so communication is an issue. There are probably accidents, not to mention the elderly to look after. The authorities must be busy as hell.”

  “Someone should have been by,” Joy said, letting go of her husband’s arm and pushing aside the curtain to look out the window. “I mean, there is literally no one out there.”

  “We’re okay as long as we just sit tight right here,” Graham said, wishing Shelby had fallen asleep in the bedroom with her kids.

  “But what about the people in the car in front of me?” Shelby asked. “Shouldn’t we see if they are okay?”

  “And the truck driver,” Mason added.

  “We’re the ones who wanted to seek refuge here,” Graham said, trying to calm the others. “And the Volkmanns were nice enough to offer. The trucker chose to ride it out on his own, and that’s fine.”

  “And the people in the hatchback?” Shelby questioned.

  Graham looked at Clark for help, seeing the concern on his friend’s face. “We don’t need to worry about them.”

  “Why not?”

  Graham hesitated, trying to think of an appropriate answer, and he could tell from Shelby’s look that she saw something in his pause that caused her to know something was wrong.

  “What is it?” she demanded, leaning forward.

  Graham didn’t want to look at Clark, because he knew his friend’s look would try to prevent him from saying what came out next.

  “They’re dead.”

  Shelby gasped, bringing a hand up to her mouth in shock.

  “Hey!” Joy yelled, still looking out the window, and Graham was grateful for the interruption. “There’s a light out there!”

  Everyone clambered over to the windows to look. Graham nearly pressed up against Felker’s shoulder, absorbing a noxious stench from the man, whose sweat had festered inside the heavy wool of his Salvation Army coat. Graham pushed aside the curtain and peered out.

  He saw nothing except darkness and the falling snow.

  “Where?” he asked, keeping his face to the window.

  “Through the woods,” Joy said. “There’s a light in the distance.”

  The trees along the edge of the highway were thick, branches dipping from the heavy burden of snow. There were only shadows between the trees as Graham’s eyes scanned the horizon. Then he saw it. Deep in the woods, a faint light glowed.

  “I see it.” He turned to look back at Clark, who was still on the bench seat comforting a visibly distraught Shelby. “Take a look at this,” he said, gesturing.

  Clark released Shelby’s hand, offering her some comforting words and then patting her arm. He came to the other side of the RV, leaning over Graham’s shoulder.

  “There,” Graham said, pointing to the spot in the woods.

  “I don’t— Oh, wait, yes, there it is.”

  His friend stared in silence, eyes squinting.

  “What do you make of it?”

  Clark shrugged. “It looks like a light from a house.”

  “Of course,” Joy said, still looking out on her side of the table. “It has to be.”

  “How far?” Graham asked.

  “Hard to tell,” Clark said. “Maybe half a mile, or more.”

  “But if it has electricity….”

  “Could be candlelight.”

  “But it might not be. If they have power. We could try to reach it.”

  “Maybe they have a generator,” Mason offered.

  True, Graham thought. Lots of people had generators these days, especially since the ice storm of 1998 that left parts of the state without power for weeks.

  “Even if they have power,” Clark said, “and I’m not saying they do, it doesn’t mean they have phone service.”

  “So what are you saying?” Graham asked.

  “Say we try to hike out there to the house, through the snow and those woods, and we get there, and even if they have a generator giving them some limited power, there’s no guarantee they have any phone service or way to communicate.” Clark looked down at him. “We’d be no better off than here.”

  “But there’s some hope,” Joy pleaded. “It’s something.”

  “Might be a trap,” Felker said, staring out the window.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Joy said, her voice tinged with anger.

  “Things aren’t always what they seem to be.”

  Graham ignored Felker. “Might be worth a shot. If line crews are out trying to restore service, that house is bound to get it eventually. And that’s more than we’d have sitting here.” He looked back out the window. The snow still fell steady and thick, but it wasn’t swirling around as much, which meant the winds had died down. That was good. “The storm looks like it’s slowing down. It looks better out there than it did when we went out earlier.” He looked back to Clark. “We could get some rope, tie everyone together.”

  Clark glanced toward Shelby, and then back at Graham. “You think those kids will be able to trudge through this snow? Some of those drifts are taller than them.” He paused and Graham could tell his friend was thinking. “If we try, it should just be a couple of us.”

  Graham thought for a moment. He was remembering something. Something from earlier tonight. “Hey! Wait a minute. I just remembered. That young couple’s car. There were two pairs of snowshoes in the hatchback.”

  “Then it would be just the two of us.”

  Graham looked around at the others and saw signs of hope amid the expressions of exhaustion.

  “Let’s give it a go.”

  As they suited up once again in the snow outfits belonging to the Volkmanns, Graham couldn’t help but be glad Clark was the one who was about the same size as Francine and had to wear her powder-blue outfit. The woman’s jacket and snow pants detracted from the heroic task Clark was about to undertake with him, and it brought a smile to Graham’s lips. It helped assuage the nerves that tightened inside him as they prepared to head back out into the maelstrom.

  Shelby stood before Clark, assisting him in getting his gear on, wrapping a scarf around his neck and tying it.

  “What happened to them?” she asked him, and Graham knew who she meant.

  “Carbon monoxide poisoning is my best guess. The exhaust on their car was blocked with snow.”

  Shelby nodded, as if satisfied by the explanation. “And the trucker?”

  “He’s okay as far as we know. We asked him to join us, but he said he wanted to stay with his truck.”

  “All right,” she said, somewhat satisfied. “And the snowplow driver?”

  Clark glanced over at Graham.

  “We don’t know,” Graham shrugged, pulling Werner’s knitted snow cap down over his ears. “He’s missing. He may have tried to walk out after getting stuck. I have no idea.” Of course you do. That’s why you didn’t mention anything about the blood covering the seat, the floor mats, and dripping out of the vents. No, don’t tell her that part, because she would get hysterical and right now it’s necessary to remain calm. Besides, Graham didn’t want to think about the blood, didn’t want to think about Felker saying the highway
behind them was no longer there. Felker was mad anyway, he thought, and reeked of alcohol. The man was most likely delirious. But that didn’t explain the blood in the plow truck. None on the ground outside it, just inside the truck cab where the driver sat. What the hell had happened to him?

  Graham didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to get on with their task. The light in the woods offered them some hope, and anything would be better than sitting around in this rig with this motley lot. Having an objective made him feel useful. He just hoped Clark was up to it. He had almost lost his friend the first time they ventured out in the snow. The guy just wasn’t used to this weather, having spent too many years living on the West Coast. Even though he’d redeemed himself when they’d gone out the second time to gather the survivors, Graham still had reservations about him. But Clark had always been a tough, athletic guy, so he knew his friend had it in him. He would have to, because they were both going to need each other out there, even though the blizzard seemed to have subsided. It was still going to be a harrowing expedition.

  He watched as Shelby stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on Clark’s cheek, the little bit of his face that was exposed between the snow cap pulled down to his eyebrows and the scarf pulled up over his chin.

  “Be careful,” she said to him, and then turned to Graham. “You too.”

  “Thank you,” Graham said. Werner Volkmann handed him a flashlight. They went to the door, turning back to look at the others. Hopeful expressions gripped most of their destitute faces. Only the Volkmanns smiled.

  “Godspeed,” Francine said.

  Once outside the safety of the RV, Graham felt alone, despite the fact Clark stood beside him. He thought of Natalie and his girls at home, worrying out of their minds about his whereabouts. They probably had no way to contact the police, no way to contact anyone. Just sitting at home, maybe with no power, wondering where he was. That was why it was important to get to that house in the woods and try to reach someone – anyone. They needed help, because it was Christmas morning, and no one knew where they were.

  The wind had died down, but the snow fell steady with fat flakes that would soon bury them. Drifts piled up around the RV and Graham led the way as they waded through them, sometimes pushing the peaks of the snow aside with his arms. It was easier breathing outside this time around, without the ferocity of the wind sucking the breath out of their lungs. He glanced back at Clark, who gave him a thumbs-up with a gloved hand.

  Graham nodded and looked ahead, seeing the snow-covered outline of Shelby’s minivan. It seemed long ago that they had come to her rescue, coaxing her and the kids out. Well, not so much little Luke, who was the only one of their lot who looked at their snowbound status as an adventure. Maybe that’s the attitude he needed to take, Graham thought. Give this excursion some context. He was doing a heroic task, something they would probably write about in the paper, maybe even on the television news. How proud his wife and daughters would be, knowing he’d stepped up to the challenge and took charge.

  Beyond the minivan, he spotted the hatchback. It was just a lump of snow in the middle of the highway, a mogul he might have skied over to catch some air to show off in front of his family. He would have smiled at the thought if not for the realization that it was now a tomb for its unfortunate occupants. The truck driver had told them all to keep their exhaust pipes clear of snow. Why hadn’t the kids paid attention? Young fools. Such a shame. He remembered looking at the young woman’s naked body, the curves of her flesh. It made him hunger for his own wife’s body, back home in their bed, waiting for him. I’m coming, Natalie, he thought. I’m trying to get home.

  They reached the hatchback, Clark coming up aside him as they both began brushing the pile of snow off the glass of the back window. Graham tried to find the release for the hatch, but couldn’t locate anything.

  “Try finding the release inside,” Clark hollered, though it wasn’t as necessary without the intense wind.

  Graham stumbled as he tried to walk around to the driver’s side of the car, while Clark continued brushing snow off the back. He grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, having to tug hard to push the snow that had built up against the door. The dome light came on, exposing the interior of the vehicle. He didn’t want to look at the back seat and see the bodies of the young couple. When he had forced enough of a gap, Graham leaned in through the opening, looking for the hatch release.

  “I found it!” he said, pulling on it.

  There was a whoosh of air as Clark lifted the hatch and climbed into the back.

  Graham was about to back out of the car when he looked at Clark, who had one pair of the snowshoes in his arms. A strange expression had come over his friend’s face, a look of consternation as Clark glanced down into the back seat.

  “What’s the matter?” Graham asked.

  At first Clark didn’t respond, but reached down and peeled back the blanket that covered the young couple’s bodies.

  “How long have we been here?” Clark asked, his face drawn and pale.

  Graham peered over into the back seat, to see beneath the blanket the skeletal remains of the young couple.

  Interlude

  Silent Night

  The transient huddled beneath the stone arched bridge knowing no matter how much junk he shot up, there would be no comfort from the cold dank night, no sleep before the break of dawn. He had followed the path to the bridge guided by the trail of the beast whose tracks lay before him. The man (if he could still be considered a man) was weary but wired at the same time. His insides felt like a tug-of-war was trying to rip his body apart.

  There was no way to tell when the beast had last come this way. The transient huddled against the cold stone surface as sleet fell beyond both sides of the bridge. He watched the icy pellets, mesmerized by the increase in their rhythm as they began in a slow drizzle before intensifying into a deluge.

  But he was dry for now beneath the bridge. And he was away from the others, especially the one who cast him out. How many days had he wandered? Time had no meaning. Just the fix, which was all that had mattered. Because he knew what it would take to face the beast. He couldn’t do it on his own. That was a sign of his cowardice. But he had found some courage in the needle and he tasted grit in his mouth.

  A cry in the night signaled his destiny. It was coming. Far off in the distance, and it was heading this way, just as he knew it would, just like it always did. Now he would be ready for it. He rose from his spot, discarding his satchel with his meager belongings. This was what his life added up to, a sad sack indeed. He wouldn’t need it any longer. Not where he was going.

  And where was that? Someplace better than this. Anywhere but this.

  The beast roared.

  He stood in its tracks, ready to take it on. Time to get it off his back.

  I am not afraid, he told himself, for I have the power within me.

  The beast bore down, charging toward him. It blared its roar.

  Did it see him? Did it know he was waiting for it? Did it even care?

  The transient held his ground, determined to take on the beast full force.

  But his body began to tremble. He thought he had taken enough to not make him feel, but there was never enough. There was always a need for another. And another.

  And now he wasn’t sure if he was ready for the beast. Maybe he wasn’t strong enough. The beast roared again, sparks spewing from its mouth as it screamed, its cyclopean eye bearing down on him. Too late to move, he thought. His legs strained to hold him in place. But they wouldn’t work to run. He was at the end of the line and the beast looked hungry.

  It screamed, sparks blew out as it exhaled its fetid breath.

  He cried out at the last second, knowing he was no match for the beast, before the hulking creature bore down on him and swallowed him whole.

  Part Two

  Not
A Creature Was Stirring

  Chapter One

  Clark didn’t want to look back at the highway as they left it, but he couldn’t help glancing behind him. Somehow they had gotten lost in this storm and he wasn’t quite sure where they’d ended up, but something had gone seriously wrong. Looking at their vehicles, now just so many mounds of snow-covered heaps, he felt a cold that had peeled away the layers of his skin beneath the protective clothing and settled inside him shivering.

  Where are we? he wondered. And how did we get here?

  After seeing the skeletal remains of the young couple, Graham and he didn’t say a word to each other. What could they say? The shock had driven them mute. All they could do was focus on the task and push forward, whatever the consequences of the madness they stumbled into.

  Maybe that was it. Maybe the snowbound state had driven them mad with cabin fever. Just like the Iceman trapped inside his cabin with his mother’s corpse. He and Graham had suffered some shared delusion, like highway hypnosis. Is that what had driven that man to strip off his clothes and run naked down the turnpike? It was as good a reason as any.

  So was the light from the house in the woods real? Or were he and Graham marching through the snow on some fools’ errand? He looked at the hulk of the RV and wondered if he’d ever see any of them again. He thought of Shelby. God, he wanted to run back there to her, make sure she and the kids were all right. He missed her already, and he barely knew her.

  But if any of them had any hopes of getting out of whatever mess they had become immersed in, then he and Graham needed to do this. The others were counting on him. Shelby was counting on him. He wouldn’t let her down.

  The snowshoes were a blessing, helping them clamber across the drifts covering the highway. Once on the other side, the ground sloped up to the woods, and Clark took the flashlight from Graham and started up the embankment. The wind had started to pick up again (figures) and he tried to shield his eyes from the snow whipping into his face. The blowing wind stirred up a white mist that blanketed everything like a thick fog. The flashlight was useless trying to cut through it.