They Came With The Snow Box Set {Books 1-2]

by Coleman, Christopher

  “How do you know that was them?” My tone is slightly angry now, accusatory.

  Tom looks around at the rest of the group, as if asking permission to tell the story. “Their names were Gun and Kannika. Their son was Joe. I had known them since before Joe was born. Since the day they opened their restaurant over twenty years ago.”

  “Jesus. I’m sorry.” I give a flat smile, a tacit apology for my earlier tone. “But why them? Why anyone? Why did some people...change and some didn’t?”

  “Only thing we can think is that it’s because they were outside. When the blast happened, they were outside at the truck. They were dealing with a delivery, some problem with the shipment. A union issue or something, because the driver wouldn’t physically bring anything inside the store. So Gun and Joe were stuck having to bring in their supplies themselves before the driver was scheduled to leave. The blast happened just as they began, and within the hour the sirens were sounding and the emergency broadcasts were telling people to get inside. I’m sure you remember.”

  “I do.”

  “Well Gun and Joe had work to do, and Kannika started pitching in as well. Most of our customers left, but some, like Terry and Stella here, hunkered down. Probably saved themselves. Because within two hours the snow started to fall. And that was the key. If you were out on that first day during the blast and still when the snow started, you turned into...well...that’s as far as we can tell anyway.”

  “So you locked them in the store?” My voice sounds bitter, laced with disgust.

  “Didn’t lock anything. Your friend opened it just fine.” Tom pauses and holds up a hand. He closes his eyes for a moment and then stares at me. “May God bless your friend’s soul, Dominic. I can’t tell you how sorry I am for your loss.”

  I give a nod of gratitude, too choked to say ‘thank you.’ “But how...why didn’t they come out weeks ago?”

  “They can’t work doors, we reckon. When Gun and Kannika and Joe finished the delivery, they went in. Probably thought they would open for the day and it would be business as usual.”

  “Can’t work doors? They can sure climb like motherfuckers.” I don’t bother apologizing for my language. Fuck it.

  “Haven’t seen that. How do you know?”

  “Because the instant I broke a window in Warren’s student union they started building a ladder of bodies. Like ants or something.”

  Tom looks at Danielle, making sure she’s registered this new bit of intel. Danielle frowns and nods.

  “Are there others stuck inside?”

  “We think the other stores have at least one or two people inside. But most left when the warning came.”

  I shake my head and blink in disbelief. “Why were they so violent? The ones on the campus never appeared to get that way.”

  “You can’t let them get close. That’s the key. They’re curious, but they stay their distance for the most part. They’ll follow you, but they’re very apprehensive.” Tom pauses. “Until you get right next to them.”

  “What happens?” I ask, immediately appalled at my own question and Naia’s fate. I tacitly retract it. “But why?”

  “I don’t know, Dominic. But my son was the first to prove it true. As far as I know anyway. And your friend left no doubt in my mind.”

  Tom lets the impact of his words resonate for a few beats.

  “And we didn’t mean to dehumanize you by keeping you locked behind the gate. Hope it wasn’t too uncomfortable.”

  “It wasn’t the Four Seasons, but it was fine.”

  Tom smiles. “We just had to be sure, you know? Sure you wasn’t going to change into one of them and mean to do us harm.”

  “Are you sure of that now?”

  Tom gives me a long stare and I’m tempted to drop my gaze, but I steel it forward. “I am,” he says.

  I let the power of that trusting phrase linger for a moment and then I turn to the last two remaining members of group. They’ve been silent thus far, but I can feel the judgement of their stares.

  “How is it that you two came to be here?” I ask.

  They are fortyish, a man and a woman, fit and attractive, and they sit together in a way co-workers might. They could be a couple, but it’s not the sense I get.

  They look at each other, and then the woman speaks up. “I’m very sorry about your friend.”

  “Thank you.”

  Naia. In my mind, I’ve already moved past what happened to her, despite the gruesomeness of the event. I don’t see myself as a monster for feeling this way, but perhaps I should. Maybe it’s because it was her idea to leave. Had I insisted we explore past the union, I imagine my guilt would run deeper. Or maybe it’s some type of hyper-evolution, a mutation of my sensibilities that no longer allows me, in such an inhospitable environment as Earth itself, to wallow in sorrow at the loss of life.

  I, myself, want to feel the loss more severely, and I can imagine how my lack of shock and despair must impress on the group. But I won’t put on a show for the sake of decorum. I feel how I feel, and I’m moving past it.

  “So? How did you two get cast in this diner catastrophe?”

  The man grins. “We stopped in for a bite. Then the world went to shit.”

  “Stopped in? On your way to somewhere?”

  “Headed to a medical conference at the University.

  “You’re doctors?”

  “That’s right. Clinical psychiatrists. My name is Terry. This is Stella.”

  I nod as I process the introduction, and I can feel my face scrunch quizzically. “So why’d you stay? Why didn’t you leave when the blast occurred and the first news reports started?”

  The woman shrugs. “Just thought we’d wait out whatever was happening. We didn’t have a lot of gas, and we don’t really know where we are, so we didn’t want to risk getting stranded somewhere. And then the reports started to tell everyone to stay put. There was food and water here. So that’s what we did.”

  “And what about you, Dominic?” It’s Alvaro, Tom’s cook/dishwasher. “Why didn’t you leave?”

  I frown and say, “I wish I had.”

  The eyes of the group stay on me, waiting for the reason.

  “I was having an affair. With Naia. She was a student of mine. When everything started, I didn’t know what to do. So we just stayed. I panicked, I guess. Naia thought we should leave right away, but she let me decide for us.”

  “You probably saved both of your lives.” Stella adds.

  “Probably. If we had left, gone our separate ways, we would never have made it home before the snow started.”

  “So why do you wish you had left?”

  I pause and clear my throat, fighting away the lump developing there, and then raise my eyebrows and shrug. “I would have seen my wife one last time.”

  There’s a long silence and then Tom says, “We’ve all got our sins, Dominic. But it’s a new life now.”

  I stand. “Yeah, well, that may be, but it’s not one I plan on spending the rest of in a greasy spoon. No offense, Tom.”

  Tom purses his lips. “What’ll you do then? You leaving? Just like that?”

  “Maybe not ‘just like that,’ but I don’t plan to die here. Naia wanted to find civilization, not just another bunker to hole up in. I owe her at least the effort. But before I begin to restore the world, I’m going home.”

  “There’s nothing out there, sir.” It’s James, the refugee from the snows.

  “I can’t believe that, son.”

  “I thought the same thing. After a few weeks, when my parents and brother didn’t come home, I ventured out. I thought I would eventually come across something more civilized. At least something better.” James shakes his head twice. “Everywhere is the same.”

  “I know you believe that, James, but let’s be honest: you couldn’t have come from very far.”

  “Fifty miles I’d bet.”

  That was farther than I would have guessed, but it still didn’t quite span the planet.
/>   “And you heard the broadcasts like we did. It didn’t just happen here. It’s everywhere.”

  “And we’ve driven at least that far in every direction,” Danielle added. “It’s desolate.”

  I consider James’ assertion (‘It didn’t just happen here’) and his statement about the broadcasts. We had heard them, Naia and I, first from the DJs at 99.4 WBSK, and then later, when the DJs jumped overboard to some ostensible safety boat, from the station manager. But that was it. WBSK was the only signal we could get. The rest of the dial was a low, steady sea of humming and hissing.

  Where was WBSK getting its reports?

  I filed the question away for later, and addressed the accumulating defeatism in the room. “So we just stay then? Until what? Until they learn to open doors and devour us? Until we run out of food and end up eating each other?”

  “What’s your plan then, Dominic?” It was the doctor, Terry, and the question showed no trace of dismission.

  “The snows have subsided again, and seem to be coming less frequently. This box truck of yours, with the supplies, it’s probably heavy enough to get around on the roads the way they are now. I say we venture out again. Tomorrow at first light. Is there gas in that thing?

  “Hasn’t moved since that day of the delivery. Just been getting food from it as needed. Gun and Joe had barely gotten started on the thing.”

  I think back to the contents of the truck when I first arrived at the shopping center, and recall it being less than half-full. Just another reason to start planning an escape. The supplies won’t last. “Has anyone tried to start it?”

  The group glances at each other individually, waiting for any acknowledgement that this particular act has been attempted. No one assents.

  “Okay, well, I guess the battery might be an issue, but I’d say it’s a fifty-fifty shot that it will start. How about the keys?”

  Danielle says, “That’s probably why no one has tried it. The keys aren’t in the ignition. I know that much.”

  “Any ideas where they might be?”

  “Ideas? Sure. Probably with the driver. Don’t know for sure though.”

  I close my eyes, knowing the answer to my question before I ask it. “Any ideas about his whereabouts?”

  “This minute? No. But I know exactly where he was when this all started.”

  “Inside the Thai place, I’m guessing.”

  No reply.

  “So then he’s out now? When Naia opened the door?”

  Danielle shakes me off immediately. “No, it was only Gun and Kannika and Joe that came out of the restaurant. I’m sure of it. He wasn’t with them.”

  “So he’s probably in there still.”

  Danielle shrugs. “We never saw him through the storefront window, as many times as we looked through it, but I would imagine he must be. Maybe he got caught in another room when he...changed... and couldn’t get out.”

  “Or maybe he didn’t change at all and they killed him,” Stella adds. She looks up in thought, and then nods to Terry as if signalling him to consider the possibility.

  I have a million questions about that process—the changing—and since Tom lost his son to the crabs, whoever saw that atrocity certainly has more theories about what happens. Did those who were killed by the crabs themselves become one, zombie-style? What about anyone who dies from here on out of natural causes? And why were they all naked and sexless? It was as if everything that hung loose—clothes, genitals, hair—froze solid and fell to the ground.

  But now isn’t the time. Now I’ve got to find the keys to the box truck and try to make my way home.

  “So the keys are with him, then. Somewhere in the restaurant. Maybe in a pocket.”

  “They ain’t got no pockets.” Alvaro snickers as he says it, amused at my naiveté.

  I give a single nod. “I noticed that. What happens to their clothes?”

  “Clothes, cocks, nipples, ears. I don’t know, man, it all just falls off. And then whatever’s left over just closes up to white like the rest of them. You can’t tell the difference between the tops of their heads and the bottoms of their asses. It’s the craziest shit you ever heard of.”

  “Well that should make it easier. If their clothes just dissolve or something, then the keys should be on the floor somewhere. Right?” I’m trying to convince myself as much as I am the group.

  “I don’t know, man. I guess so.”

  “Why would you risk that?” It’s Terry again. “Why not just go for another car?”

  “And even if you do get the keys,” Tom says, “I don’t reckon we can just let you take the supplies. That’s plenty of food in there. We can last a long time on that.”

  This objection was inevitable. “I can’t afford getting stuck. I need the heaviest thing I can get. We can move the supplies in the truck to a few of the other cars in the lot. It will stay just as cold in the trunk of a Buick as it will in the box truck.”

  Danielle speaks. “Let’s just see if we can find the keys first. There’s no point building bridges to the next river before we’ve crossed this one. And besides, if we can get the truck started, I think we all should go. That’s just my two cents.”

  The room stays silent, and I smile and blink my thanks toward Danielle. She doesn’t look at me.

  “Well that will be a choice to consider if we get the keys,” Tom says. “But let’s see about that part first. Bridges and rivers and all that.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  There are four of us standing on the sidewalk outside of Thai Palace. Alvaro has his forehead against the glass storefront; his hands are cupped around his eyes as he peers inside, fighting the glare, struggling to see through the gap of the curtain to the kitchen and restrooms at the back of the restaurant. Alvaro was the first volunteer to accompany me to this potential danger zone, followed by Terry and Danielle. Stella seemed willing, but Tom decided four should be the number. He made some pretense of strategy, but I think he was opposed to including both women on the mission and was afraid of being called a chauvinist. Tom is a good man. Besides, if it all goes to shit, I suppose we’ll need survivors to carry on the species.

  “You catching any movement in there, Alvaro?”

  “I can’t see shit, man. It’s too bright out here.”

  “What about through the other window, over here?” I point to the front window on the opposite side of the door.

  “You got no angle to the back from this window. All you can see is the front counter and that stupid fish tank.”

  “All right, we’ll take it real slow then. I don’t expect to find anything, but we’ll take it real slow.”

  The restaurant has a classic knob-style door, rustic and opaque, with ornate bordering around the frame, presenting the customers with a certain old-world, oriental charm. I realize now that were the door of the free-swinging push/pull variety that most commercial establishments have, the crabs would have freed themselves long ago.

  “I’ll go first,” Danielle offers. “I’ve worked in this shopping center longer than Alvaro; I’ve eaten here a thousand times. And you two don’t know the place at all.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” I retort.

  “I know where the restrooms are. That’s what we’re all thinking, right? That the driver was in the restroom at the time.”

  I had thought it.

  “Oh shit!” Alvaro apparently has not.

  “I think that’s the idea.” It’s Terry, and his joke gets a disapproving glare from Danielle, who then closes her eyes and shakes her head sighing.

  “Okay, fine,” I say, “you go first, but I’m coming too. The two of us will go in together. This is my idea, so I’m at least going to be one-A through the door. Alvaro and Terry can each take a side of the dining room and follow behind us.”

  Danielle gives a whatever shrug, less eager to argue than to get inside.

  I turn the knob and pull the door toward me, at once anticipating both nothing and a flood of crab
s to pile upon us. But there’s only the musty smell of damp carpeting and grease, and of the rotting bass or carp in the fish tank framing the lobby entrance. Danielle and I pause for a moment before moving forward to let Alvaro and Terry inside. Terry eases the spring loaded door back to the jamb gently, and then we all stand stock still, listening.

  “What do they eat?” Alvaro asks, a propos of nothing.

  No one answers.

  “I mean, if that thing got trapped in the toilet, it would die right? It couldn’t live without eating.”

  “What do they eat when they’re not trapped?” Terry asks. “We know they attack and kill, but what do they do with them. Has anyone seen them eat?”

  “When I write my thesis after this whole ordeal is over,” I reply, “I’ll be sure to get all those details. Now, however, don’t much care.”

  Danielle has already moved five feet ahead of us toward the kitchen. I catch up to her and motion for Terry and Alvaro to stay back a few feet and create a perimeter. As we approach the portholes of the swinging kitchen doors, the path forks sharply to the left, leading down a corridor where, undoubtedly, the bathrooms lie.

  “Good thing you were leading,” I tease. “I’d have never found my way.”

  “Just stay close.”

  Danielle steps down the corridor toward two doors which mirror each other on opposite sides of the wall.

  “There are two doors down here. One is the bathroom—it’s a unisex—and the other is some kind of employee break room or utility closet or something.”

  “I’ll take the bathroom.” I declare.

  Danielle looks back at me and flashes a faint smile, showing a chip in her veneer of fearlessness, and then nods in agreement. “It’s pretty tight in there and I don’t hear anything, so I’m assuming if he’s in there he’s dead. But just be careful.”

  “I will. What’s the story with this other room? How big?”

  “I’ve never seen it. Like I said, it’s employees only.”

  “Maybe we shoul—”