Josh raised the bottle. When his friend went to grab it he yanked it away. “Look who’s talking, asshole,” he said. “And besides, I’ll hog it if I damn well please. I’m the one who went out and buried Mister Mac. Not you.”
Jessica Lure spoke up from the back of the room. “But you said you didn’t want anyone to come along.”
Josh dropped his shoulders, closed his eyes, and offered the bottle to Colin. He didn’t pull it away this time.
“Sorry,” he said.
“S’okay,” replied Colin. “I mean, I guess…forget it.”
Colin walked away. Josh removed his hat, tossed it on top of his jacket, and made his way through the still-staring crowd until he found a free chair. He turned it to face the boarded window, plunked down, and wrapped his arms around his chest. Once more he closed his eyes, this time listening to the rattle of his lungs when he breathed in. Perhaps he was getting sick, too.
Gentle hands fell on his shoulders. “I know things are hard for you,” said Kyra, her voice sweet and dripping with compassion. “Let me help you.”
He shook his head. “No. You can’t. It has to be me.”
“You don’t have to be a martyr.”
He thought of Sophia, so young and full of life six months ago; now, her body would be slowly decomposing along with the rest of the world. “Yes, I do,” he said in reply.
Her hands lifted off him. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll let you have this.” Her face appeared over his left shoulder, her green eyes blazing as she stared at him. “But you’re going to talk to me. Sooner rather than later. This is not negotiable.”
Josh nodded.
She gave him a kiss on the cheek and left him alone, though it brought him no comfort. He heard the murmurs behind him and realized he couldn’t be truly alone any more, possibly ever again. This thought caused his chest to tighten. Tears threatened to roll from their prison. He sucked them back in with a curl of his lip.
Andy and Francis appeared. They approached him tentatively, as if he was a bear trap that might suddenly snap shut.
“What’s up guys?” he asked.
“We just wanna know,” asked Andy, “if you wanna play cards.”
He shook his head. “Not today. Not now.” Why can’t you all just leave me be? He snorted and shot up from the chair. The two boys uttered small shrieks at his abrupt movement.
“You know what? I’m going to bed.”
He heard no cries of protest, only sniffles and moans that drifted through the sticky air. He did hear Kyra try to comfort Francis, however, and this caused his ever-present guilt to beat its chest. You’re an asshole, Josh, it said.
“I know,” he groaned.
He went to the secluded spot in the corner of the cabin that he and Kye had claimed, took off his pants, and slid beneath the sleeping bag. It reeked but he didn’t care. Getting in the bag meant it was time to get unconscious, and for Josh, with the harsh reality of his new life bearing down on him, he’d take unconscious over just about anything.
* * *
That night, for the first time in God knew how long, he dreamed not of terror, but of her.
In the dream he strolled through a field of wildflowers with the girl from his past. A hot sun shone down on them. He felt his heart beat with a slow thump, thump, thump. A wide smile stretched across his face.
“Marcy,” he said, turning to the girl beside him. “I’ve missed you.”
She nodded. Her shoulder-length brown hair bobbed. Her eyes were alive and sparkling, her lips full and sensuous. The wind blew and the sundress she wore hugged her tall, slender frame. She’d never looked prettier.
Then, quick as a blink, she disappeared. His hand held nothing but air. He snapped his head from side to side, searching for her, but could see only grass and wildflowers. The sky developed a purplish hue when the light retreated, as if someone drew a shade over his vision.
He panicked and ran away from the darkness. His feet pounded up a hill, his soles digging into the soft, wet grass. In an instant he crested it. Just as he was about to sprint down the other side he stopped.
At the bottom of the hill, a few hundred feet away, he saw a blanket. It was red and checkered and spread out on the ground. On top of it, with a glutton of food before them, were two female figures. One was Marcy. She sat cross-legged and hunched and appeared to be speaking with the other young lady, who he did not know. He stared at them. An odd sort of warmth eased its way beneath his skin. The darkness descending over the landscape quivered behind him as if held back by an invisible force field, allowing the valley to be bathed in light. The one who was not Marcy glanced up at him and waved.
He started down the hill. The grass tickled his feet. When he reached the two ladies the smaller one stood up and bowed.
Up close, the girl’s features were startling. She was beautiful, with high cheekbones and strawberry-blonde hair. She wore, as did Marcy, a pair of shorts and a tank top. The girl looked to be in her early twenties, though there was a peculiar sort of innocence in her sea green eyes that said she could’ve been much younger than that. She spoke his name and the sweetness of her voice stunned him. Yet there was strength beneath that sweetness, a rough undertone.
“Oh my God,” he whispered. “It’s you.”
She nodded.
“Where have you been?”
Isabella’s mouth pursed and her brow furrowed. Still she was gorgeous. He had never seen her face before, at least not really. All he’d been privy to were glimpses, notions placed upon concepts maintained by supposition. To see her now, in full view and sparkling in the brilliant sunlight, he understood why he’d been so drawn to her in the first place. Her physical appearance matched her aura. It radiated splendor.
“I did not leave you,” she said. “I know you think I did, but it is not true.”
She took his hand. Her skin was smooth and untainted. “Well, um,” he began, finding it hard to concentrate. She swept a lock of hair from in front of his face and he regained his composure. “Where’d you go? Why didn’t I hear from you for so long?”
“I was forced to change course for a time,” she replied. “There were others who required my attention.”
“Oh.” He glanced at Marcy, who still sat on the blanket as if there was someone across from her. She never raised her eyes to look at him.
“And what about you?” he asked.
Marcy didn’t answer.
He bent over and waved his hand in front of her face. Her expression never changed, her mouth never closed, her finger, which had been pointing ahead, never lowered. She was locked in a moment.
“What the hell’s wrong with her?” asked Josh.
Isabella blinked and covered her mouth with her palm. Her eyes widened in apparent surprise. “Oh, goodness,” she said. “I did not think of that. This must be difficult for you.” She placed her hand on the top of Marcy’s head and the woman he regretted pushing away faded.
Panic clenched his throat. “No!” he yelped. “Stop it! Don’t make her go away!”
It was too late. Marcy’s outline hovered over the blanket for a few short seconds, flickered, and disappeared. He swiped his hand through the spot where she had been. It felt warm, but even that warmth was fleeting.
“Why’d she go?” he muttered.
“This is not the place for her,” said Isabella. “I only wanted you to see she was safe. In a way I think she wanted that, too. But fret not for her. She is protected.”
“How so?”
“She has called from the ether for help, and that cry was heard. This means you can ease your worries for now.”
Josh slouched, still staring at the spot where Marcy had been. He squeezed his eyes shut and balled his fists. He was about to scream but a soothing hand feathered his back and his anxiety passed.
He opened his eyes to find himself on the blanket, sitting across from Isabella. She smiled at him, warm and caring. He blocked his vision with his hand, half expecting her to disappea
r the moment he removed it. When she didn’t he nudged her crossed legs with his knuckle.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said.
She nodded.
“No, I don’t think you get it. You’re here. You’re real. Last time I saw you, so long ago, you were…kind of there and not there at the same time. What changed?”
“I am growing stronger. Things are progressing,” she replied.
“In what way?”
“The way they are supposed to.”
He shrugged and said, “And this is a good thing?”
“Yes. Very good.”
“Good.”
For a few moments there was silence between them. They simply stared at each other from above the blanket’s checkerboard pattern. The strange sort of calming influence she seemed to have over him wavered. His pulse quickened, his cheeks flushed. Isabella frowned.
“It is always over too soon,” she said.
“Why is this happening?”
“The other is in motion. He scours the netherworld. It is not safe for me to be here with you. We must part ways now.”
Josh rolled his eyes. “So this is it? You appear to me, stay for all of fifteen seconds, and then you’re off again? That’s fair.”
“It is the way it must be.”
The blackness from above started to descend. It crept over the hill like a stalking predator. The light around them condensed and became brighter. That seemed to at least slow its momentum.
“This is it,” said Isabella. “There is no more time.”
Her body flickered, much like Marcy’s had.
“But wait!” Josh cried. “You have to tell me something!”
“Quickly,” she said. Her appearance grew solid again.
“I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do.”
She shook her head. “No one can tell you that, Joshua. Only you can do what comes next. I know where events will lead, but not how they get there.”
“Can you at least say something?”
“Very well. Do not lose confidence. This is all I can offer. There will come a time where you must make a difficult decision. Use that confidence to make it. Do not hesitate. If you do, you risk everything. And always remember that sometimes sacrifices are necessary.”
“That’s all you got?”
She closed her eyes and touched the center of her forehead with her index finger.
“That is all,” she replied.
Josh awoke. He found himself face-down outside the cabin, naked and shivering. The sky had taken on the crimson sheath of dawn and snow was falling again. He rolled over, wrapped his arms around himself, rose to his feet on a pair of clacking knees, and staggered up the rickety steps, heading for the front door. He hoped everyone would still be asleep. There was no telling how the others would react to him strolling in at this hour with blue skin and his penis dangling, and he didn’t want to find out.
He cracked the door and peered inside. All he heard were snores. He spotted Kyra, curled up and fast asleep in the far corner with little Megan Stoddard in her arms. That explained why she hadn’t noticed his disappearance.
Gently, he eased the door open, wincing when it creaked, and stepped in. He made his way quickly to his sleeping bag, slid beneath it, and tried to will the cold from his bones. He couldn’t stop thinking of Isabella, and the more he thought of her the more he started to hate her. She’d come back, and for what? I know where events will lead, but not how they get there, she’d said. All Josh wanted was a clue. Was that so much to ask?
With depression bearing down on him and his fellow survivors starting to wake, he curled into a ball and pulled the covers over his head. That was the way he fell asleep – despaired, adrift, and completely alone.
* * *
A deep sadness washed through Kyra while she watched the children play. They ran around the packed snow outside the cabin and laughed, yet there was a hollow tinge to it. They haphazardly played with each other, often segregating themselves, forming pockets of two or three. It seemed like they were pretending to be happy and carefree, as if it was a new sort of game. The snow was again falling and she couldn’t help but think their time in the cabin resembled the snow globes her Nana used to collect, a sad representation of real life trapped forever in a never-ending cycle, at the whim of whomever it was whose hands clutched the glass ball.
She ran her gloveless fingers down the seam of her coat and let them wander inside the zipper. They slithered beneath her sweater and fell upon the bare flesh of her rapidly swelling belly. She gently kneaded the bump, humming as she did so. The contemplation that this child, this miracle of miracles, would come into the world not knowing happiness was something she couldn’t bear.
Jessica Lure passed through her sightline. Little Zachary was at her side, his tiny hand in hers. He gazed at his mother as she bent over and traced in the snow with her index finger. His eyes widened, a smile spread across his lips, and he plopped his body down. He proceeded to giggle and thrash his arms and legs. Jessica watched him, grinning. Soon the other children joined in. There they all were, in one place, and this time the laughter was real.
Kyra nodded when Jessica looked up. Ever since that night on the front porch the young woman had become the closest thing to a best friend she’d ever had. It seemed every day there were moments like these, times when she felt disoriented and crestfallen, ready to give up, only to have Jessica arrive by her side with a smile or a gesture or a few kind words, and even with all the horror they’d seen and experienced, for that moment, everything was all right.
Again her thoughts turned to the child inside her. She wanted to be a good mother. She needed to be one, if for no other reason than to prove worthy of the gift she’d been given. And Jessica, the sweet young thing she’d been jealous of in her previous life, was as good a role model as any. Her only regret was Josh. If only he’d been in a better place then perhaps he could share in the excitement with her.
But he wasn’t, and she held her ground. She would tell him when he was ready, or when she became too large to hide it any longer.
“It’s you and me, kiddo,” she whispered, and patted her belly.
The afternoon sun broke through a cover of clouds. The snow had ceased, at least for the time being, and the sudden light was blinding. Kyra shielded her eyes with her hand and watched as Yvette Kilty, looking like the abominable snowman in her oversized wool coat, scarf, and hat, called the children in for lunch. The little ones, still joyful, sprinted past her and into the cabin, even though they all must have known only a can of corn niblets awaited them, at best. Kyra admired their fortitude.
She was so entranced by the scene that she almost missed the sight of a cloaked figure slipping out from behind the shack. It darted across the short distance between the structure and the trees that surrounded it and disappeared behind a wall of evergreens. Her first thoughts were of Justin, her former husband, and the way he’d stalked her at the bar, the way he played games with her periphery before smashing through the rear window of The Pit. She jumped to her feet and glanced around. She was the only one outside.
Her feet drove into the snow as she pushed her way to the front door. She threw it open and dashed inside. Startled yet somewhat flaccid faces turned to her. She scanned them all and came to rest on Colin’s. His expression was drawn out and somber. His lips pouted.
“Where’s Josh?” she asked. Luanda rolled her eyes from her position at the back of the room.
“He’s not here,” Colin said.
“Uh…where’d he go?”
“Not sure. Didn’t say much. Just took off.”
“But I didn’t see him leave.”
He jabbed his thumb behind him. “Probably ‘cause he’s been sifting through the pile of stuff out back for a while now.”
“Oh.”
Yvette tilted her head and creased her brow. “Why’d you come running in here like that?” she asked.
Kyra sighed. “Oh, it’s not i
mportant. Thought I saw something. I guess it was nothing. I’ll be back.”
With that she turned on her heels, exited the shack, and walked to the rear of the cabin, where their food and supplies had been stored beneath a tarp, burlap sack, and heavy blanket. The sack was long gone, having been used to wrap up Frank McKinley’s corpse. It joined their other excess blankets, finding a resting spot with their deceased loved ones beneath the earth.
Now only the tarp remained. She knew what that meant.
Josh had more digging to do.
She followed his footprints. The sun withdrew and the snow picked up again, so intense she could only see a few feet in front of her. A gust of glacial wind pummeled her face. She shoved her hands in the waistband of her pants, using her nethers to keep them warm. A yip escaped her throat when her fingers pressed too close to the source of that heat.
Beneath the wind she heard screams. She started to jog, shoving her way through the thick branches blocking her way. Her foot struck a rock buried in the snow. She tumbled, twisting her body to the side as to not cause any damage to the sensitive package residing in her abdomen. Snow covered her face. She blew away the flakes in disgust.
Rising to her feet, Kyra moved more cautiously this time. The screams were gone, replaced by a dog’s muffled whimper. She ducked beneath a large branch and entered a clearing. She hadn’t been this far from the cabin in months. What she saw there caused her heart to sink.
There Josh stood, his back to her, leaning against a shovel. The blanket he’d taken was beside him, wrapped around what she assumed was the cadaver of the walking dead man he’d told them about. There was a fresh layer of white powder on the ground. Four large stones had been positioned with care to his right. She could see letters etched crudely on them. FM, TG, TL, MG. She didn’t need to think any more about it to know what those letters meant.
I’ll take care of it, Josh had said at the time. She’d admired his strength in being able to deal with horrors such as dead children, and yet felt more than a little concern over his outward flippancy in regards to the subject. The sight of him there, surrounded by their graves while his body shook, afforded proof that he was anything but.
Dead Of Winter (The Rift Book II) Page 14
