Bone Snow

by David Haynes

  Bone Snow

  by

  David Haynes

  Copyright © David Haynes 2019. All Rights Reserved. No part of this document may be reproduced without written consent from the author

  Edited by

  Storywork Editing Services

  Cover artwork by

  The Cover Collection

  To find out more about David Haynes and his books visit his website

  David Haynes Horror Writer

  or follow him on twitter

  @Davidhaynes71

  and Facebook

  For Sarah, George and Daisy.

  Thank you, DW – the advice is priceless.

  Thank you, KM, my trusted friend.

  PART ONE

  1

  2

  3

  4

  PART TWO

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  PART THREE

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  PART FOUR

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  Part One.

  1

  “Come on, man, give me a break. Not in front of the store!” Leo Newman stomped toward the group. Flakes of fragile snow fluttered through the air, melting as soon as they hit the ground.

  The kids stared back at him, surly and unresponsive. The smell of weed was thick in the air.

  “Listen, I don’t want to get heavy about this but…come on. I’m trying to make a living here and you guys sitting outside my door smoking weed all night isn’t helping. You’re putting the customers off.”

  “What customers?” one of them said. He stood up, his face hidden beneath a black hoodie. “Nobody came in or out in the last twenty minutes. You haven’t got any customers.”

  A couple of the other kids snickered. He was right. Cruel, but true.

  “That’s not the point,” Leo said. “If a customer walked past right now, wanting milk for example, they’d think I was running a crack house, they’d…”

  “A crack house? You’ve been watching too much TV, Mr. Newman.”

  “You want me to ring your mom, Sam? What about you, Oliver?” He looked around the group. He knew them all. “And I see you over there, Michelle. Your dad would beat the crap out of all of these guys if he knew you were here.”

  “We’re not hurting anyone, Mr. Newman,” she replied. “We’re just hanging out.”

  “And that’s fine, hang out here all you like, but you can’t smoke that shit out front. You got that?”

  A collective murmur of agreement went around the group.

  “Good. Now, if you want to come in and grab a soda or a bag of chips on the house, that’s fine, but I’m closing up in ten minutes.”

  Leo turned and walked back inside his store. They weren’t bad kids. It was Saturday night and at sixteen, they had no place to go. It was probably the same all over the country.

  They filed in one after another, making straight to the refrigerators for soda. He didn’t like giving them a hard time. Smoking weed was just about the worst thing they got up to, and half the group weren’t into it anyway. Besides, it wasn’t like they were scaring away hordes of shoppers, not at this time of night. Not at any time of the day either.

  Oliver walked over to the counter holding a bag of Cheetos. “Is it alright if I take these?” he asked. The snacks were the same color as his hair.

  “No problem. You want a soda?”

  He shook his head but stayed at the counter.

  “You okay?” Leo asked.

  “Yup,” Oliver replied. The kid just stood there staring at him.

  “Err…so you want anything else?”

  “My dad says you fought Roy Jones Junior. He said you were good.”

  “He did, did he? You’ve heard of Roy?”

  “Of course. Best pound-for-pound fighter ever was.”

  “That’s what they say,” Leo replied.

  Oliver nodded. “Said you went to the Olympics in Korea and that you got a medal.”

  Leo drummed his fingers on the counter. The other kids knew this already but Oliver had only been in the neighborhood for six months. He was new.

  “Oh, don’t get him started!” Sam walked over to the counter holding a Coke. He held it up. “This okay?”

  “Sure,” Leo replied. He turned back to Chambers. “Your dad is right on all counts.”

  The kid’s eyes widened. Sam slapped him on the back. “I told you he wasn’t bullshitting.”

  “Can I see the medal?” Oliver asked. “What happened when you boxed Roy Jones? Was it…”

  “Calm down!” Sam said. “You’ll throw a fit.”

  Leo smiled. “Look, it’s getting late and I’m about to lock up, but if you’re interested…” He looked at Sam and raised his eyebrows. “Really interested and not just trying to grind my gears, then come back tomorrow and I’ll tell you about it.”

  “I did a bit of boxing back in my old school.” Oliver winced. “Before we moved out here.” His eyes lit up again as he tapped on the counter. “I don’t suppose you’d train me? I can pay. I’d work in the store for nothing if you’d…”

  “Hold on there,” Leo interrupted. “I’m not that man anymore. I haven’t trained in years.”

  “But…”

  “Like I said, it’s late. Come back tomorrow and we’ll have a talk. Okay?”

  “Come on, man.” Sam grabbed Oliver’s arm and pulled him away. “Let’s go outside and eat those chips.”

  Leo watched the others filing out. They all showed what they’d taken. “See you all tomorrow!” he shouted.

  Outside, he could see Oliver throwing shadow-punches, weaving and bobbing around Sam. They were both laughing. Good kids.

  Leo turned his attention to the register. He opened it up and looked inside. He’d had better days. Making rent, paying off his debts and trying to feed himself might be a challenge this month. More of a challenge than normal, anyway. He should probably stop giving away snacks to the kids, but how much would that save him? A few bucks here and there, that’s all. Besides, he liked having them around.

  He lifted the tray and counted the notes out onto the counter. The door alarm sounded, making a gentle beep, telling him someone had just come inside.

  “Hey, I told you, come back tomorrow and…”

  He lifted his head. They weren’t kids – two adult men stood there. Both were carrying shotguns and both wore Halloween masks. One a werewolf, one Michael Myers.

  The werewolf leveled the shotgun barrel at him while Myers threw a gym bag over the counter. “All the cash, all the liquor and all the cigarettes,” he barked.

  Leo raised his hands. “Hey come on guys, just take it easy and I’ll…”

  “Shut the fuck up and do it!” Myers shouted.

  “Okay, okay.” Leo had a .38 Special snubnose under the counter. He slowly dragged his fingers back from the tray, trying to appear as relaxed as possible.

  “Keep your fucking hands where I can see them!” Myers stepped to the counter until the barrel of the shotgun was two inches from Leo’s face. He raised his hands in supplication.

  “Do it!” Myers shouted. He was edgy, hopping about like he had something crawling in his pants. He was skinny, about half the size of the werewolf. The big guy was hanging back, checking the door.

  Leo took the tray and t
ipped it into the bag. All seventy-six dollars and change of it.

  “That it?” Myers snarled. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, man. Where’s the rest?”

  Leo shrugged. “I look like I’ve got anymore?”

  Myers snapped the butt of the shotgun around, striking Leo on the cheek, rattling his teeth. It jolted his head to the side, to the window. He could see the kids out there, watching, some covering their mouths. Sam was on his cell. They looked scared to death. Why weren’t they running? They needed to get the hell out of here. Oliver was still holding his bag of Cheetos, his mouth agape.

  “That’s all there is,” Leo said. He could taste blood. It was like being hit by Roy Jones Junior all over again. “Take the liquor and get out of here.” His ears were ringing. He hadn’t even seen the blow coming. He was getting old.

  Myers raised the gun again, going in for a second hit, but this time Leo was ready. He ducked and stepped to the side, around the edge of the counter. What he should have done was grab the gun, put Myers between him and the werewolf, but he wasn’t a soldier or a cop. He’d once been a fighter and that’s all he knew. He threw a left hook into the side of Myers’s face and followed it with a right uppercut. He heard the teeth clap together and the man grunted, staggering sideways. To his left, the entire liquor cabinet exploded as he moved away from it. Something hot scorched across his back, the smell of gunsmoke as strong as the smell of weed outside. Myers had pulled the trigger as he fell.

  Myers tried to bring the shotgun barrel around to bring it to bear on Leo, but his mask had slipped and he could only see out of one eye. Leo smashed a right into the man’s chin. The guy was out before he hit the ground.

  He was aware that he was exposed. The mantra of fighting what was in front of him was okay in the ring, but not here. He turned just in time to see Werewolf lowering the gun at him. He stopped dead still, frozen to the spot. What good were fists against a gun? None.

  As the werewolf pulled the trigger, a dark shape hit him from the side. The spray of shot smashed into the ceiling above Leo’s head. It took him a second to register the ginger hair. It was Chambers. The kid had charged in and saved him. He was on the floor, trying to get to his feet.

  Werewolf had stumbled slightly but he was big, much bigger than either Leo or Chambers. He was already bringing the gun around, pointing at the kid sliding on the waxed floor. Leo moved quickly, his arms outstretched, reaching for the gun. He couldn’t get there, he knew he couldn’t. Not in time to save the kid.

  “No!” he roared.

  The report was deafening. Oliver’s body was torn apart. Blood sprayed upward and out, coating everything and everyone in gore. Leo yelled again, still reaching out, trying to stop the werewolf pulling the trigger again.

  Werewolf turned and growled, low and throaty, his plastic snout smeared in Oliver’s blood. He fixed Leo with a glare and then turned, slip-sliding out of the store and onto the street. The kids screamed, finally running in the opposite direction.

  Leo dropped to his knees beside Chambers. It was as if an actual werewolf had attacked him. The bottom half of his jaw had gone; a splintered and jagged bone, gleaming and white, was all that was left. The top of his chest, throat and shoulder was unrecognizable as belonging to a human, to anything that had lived and breathed just a few seconds ago.

  In the distance, the wailing screech of sirens lamented the death. They would be here in a minute, probably less, but it was too late. Too late to save the boy, too late to catch the guy who did it.

  He turned around. The other robber was lying on his back, groaning. The shotgun was beside him on the floor where it had fallen. Leo scrambled across the floor on his blood-soaked knees and pushed the gun out of arm’s reach.

  “You son of a bitch!” Leo snarled. “You son of a fucking bitch!” Something dark, soupy and heavy enveloped his mind. He felt as if he were out of his body, looking down on the scene. He saw himself crouch above the man and punch him in the face, twice, straight down on his nose.

  The Michael Myers mask slid to the side, first one way then the other. Leo grabbed it and wrenched it off. He threw it across the store, blood spraying from the inside of it. The man was oriental, Japanese maybe. He groaned, bubbles of blood popping in his wrecked nostrils. Leo hit him again. The dark shroud was everywhere, thick and velvety. He hit the man again and again until his knuckles were swollen and sore.

  “Step away from the man!” someone shouted behind him. “Move away or I’ll shoot!”

  The darkness lifted. He was back in his own body, the rage subsided. He got to his feet and took two steps backward. He turned to the cop.

  “There were two of them.” He lowered his eyes to the wrecked carnage of the boy. “One of them shot the kid.”

  The cop looked down, his Glock still resting on Leo. Two more cars pulled up outside, their lights casting a lurid red and blue strobe effect over the inside of the shop.

  “Dispatch, we’re going to need a paramedic down here. We’ve got one…” He looked at the mauled body of Michael Myers at Leo’s feet. “Maybe two fatalities here.”

  2

  The kids stopped coming to the store. Their parents didn’t want them hanging around somewhere that had been robbed, somewhere a kid had been shot and another man nearly beaten to death. The store was bad news. It shouldn’t have been that way. The whole East Side of Doyle should have come out to support Leo, to offer him help, but they didn’t. They were scared that something like it might happen again, and nobody wanted a part of that.

  Nothing had actually been stolen; the cash in the gym bag was recovered, leaving no insurance to collect on. But without customers, Leo was more or less dead in the water. The store he’d bought with the purse from his boxing days was going under. His retirement was looking bleak. A werewolf and Michael Myers had seen to that.

  “What you need, Mr. Newman, is upgraded security. Tell me, what system are you currently using?”

  The salesman was in his early twenties, fresh out of a cologne commercial. He was dressed in an expensive-looking suit with perfectly coiffured hair. The only thing that let him down, that told Leo he wasn’t as successful as he wanted or pretended to be, was his shoes. They were old, the laces frayed, and may have seen some polish a couple of years ago.

  “I don’t know what it’s called. It was in there when I bought the store.”

  “And how long ago was that?”

  “Twenty years ago.”

  The salesman’s name badge said ‘Security Consultant, Chris Priest’. He raised his eyebrows and reached out his hand. “Mr. Newman, you’re certainly in need of an upgrade.”

  Leo took his hand.

  “Why don’t we step into my consulting room and we can take a look at some options.”

  Leo sighed. He’d come in to see how much some cameras might cost. The footage of the robbery was so bad that the cops didn’t even take it. He owed it to the dead kid and his family to try and put things right. Even if it was too late. Even if all it did was make his shop more attractive to potential buyers when he was forced to sell it. He didn’t want that, of course, he wanted to keep selling chips and soda, bread and milk, toys and stationery and whatever else his wholesaler had in stock that week. That’s what he wanted. He wanted the kids to come back so he could give them free chips.

  He followed Security Consultant Chris Priest into a side room of the store and sat down across from him. On the walls were photographs of systems, of large stores and parking lots, of commercial properties, and of still images from failed robberies. The footage was crystal clear. Maybe they’d have caught the werewolf by now if he’d had something of this quality.

  Chris went through the options, pointing out which were suitable and unsuitable for his store. What he didn’t mention was the price. Not until the very end. He tapped the options into the computer and then turned the screen around for Leo to look at.

  He nearly laughed when he saw the quote. It was more than the shop was worth. He
pushed his chair away from the table and started to stand.

  “I can adjust it,” Chris said. “This is just a guide. We can tailor it to your…your specific budget.”

  “Kid, you’re going to need a big pair of scissors to cut that down to my budget.”

  Chris smiled but looked crestfallen. He started tapping on the keyboard again. Leo felt sorry for him. He was just a young man, a few years older than the Chambers kid had been when he was killed. He was trying to make his way in the world.

  “Look,” Leo started. “What about cameras and the security shutter? They look like a good place to start and I might be able to stretch to those.”

  Chris nodded. “Okay, we can work with that.” He turned the screen again. “How does that look?”

  It still looked like silly money to Leo. He’d not invested in security in all the time he’d owned the store and now, because of those two bastards, he was on the verge of losing everything and was down to the last part of his savings. He leaned back in his chair. Would this make a difference? Would having cameras and a steel security shutter make all that difference?

  He leaned forward. “When can you make this happen?” he asked.

  It might not make a difference now, but it might have done a few months ago. If he’d been able to drop down the security shutter with the touch of a button, Oliver wouldn’t have been able to try and rush the werewolf. He wouldn’t have got himself killed. The guy might have shot Leo, might have killed him, but at least he knew what he was getting into. It was his risk, nobody else’s. Just like stepping into the ring. Besides, right now he’d give a million dollars to be locked in a room with either of those two bastards again.

  Chris smiled. No, he beamed. His eyes widened. He seemed momentarily flustered as he gathered his paperwork together.

  “How long you worked here, Chris?” Leo asked.