CRASH!
The porch cover came down. Amy screamed, pointing outside. The blackness was heading to the house, spreading along the driveway, the lawn, and front walk.
“Come on!” Logan vaulted over the backseat through the open tailgate. He reached and helped Amy get through.
Jenkins tried to open his door, but somehow the dark snow had it sealed closed. He looked at April, then at the Plexiglas partition between the front and back seats. He reached and slid the small door as wide as it would go. He glanced down at himself. He knew there was no way he would fit through that opening. She saw it in his face.
“You better get!”
“How are you gonna get out?” she said breathlessly.
“Don’t worry about me! Just go!”
April stepped on the seat and he shoved her through the small portal in the plastic wall. It scraped her hips, yet she managed to squeeze to the other side and fall into the backseat. From there, Jeff grabbed her hand and got her upright. He tugged her again, desperate to get her out of there. She wouldn’t budge.
“He needs help!” she pointed to Jenkins.
The windshield curved in. The glass fragmented into minuscule shards. It held its integrity, but April knew it wouldn’t hold long. The officer stared, mesmerized.
“Jenkins! Come on!” Jeff shouted.
“No!” he waved without turning, studying the black crisscross patterns in the windshield. The ceiling caved in even more. The entire front cab dropped three feet. The SUV pitched like it was going off a cliff.
“Yes!” April reached through the partition and clutched his jacket collar. She knew she couldn’t pull him into the backseat by herself. She tried, anyway. Jeff crawled over and helped, grabbing one hand while she took the other. Jenkins alternated between them both, pleading with his eyes as they struggled with his girth. He wasn’t an obese man, but large enough.
The windshield popped, bowing in more and more. April thought it would burst at any moment. Jenkins groaned. His sides scratched against the sharp plastic edges. People, especially a man of his size, weren’t meant to go through that little hole. That was painfully clear. But, with April and Jeff yanking on his arms, they managed to get him halfway.
The windshield collapsed with a CRASH! Shattered glass inundated the front cab, a mist of sticky, dark ooze. A large cluster of black snow fell in, covering the steering wheel, the dashboard, the seat, and Jenkins’s legs.
“NOOOOO!” his agonized cry made April tighten her grip. He stiffened in her hands, making tight fists and clenching his jaw, while squeezing his eyelids closed. She remembered McCullah. He had the same paralyzed look, as if in a state of extreme pain, yet not able or willing to express it.
“Pull dammit!”
“Guys,” Jenkins was emotionless.
“Work with us,” Jeff ignored him. “Come on, Jenkins, push!”
Jenkins jerked back. “Guys,” his tone remained stoic.
Jeff pulled with even more desperation. “No, goddammit! You’re not giving up! NO!”
The stench overwhelmed April’s throat, forcing her into a coughing fit. She swallowed hard and pushed the burning down, but only for the moment, only long enough to see Jenkins’ face, pressed against the Plexiglas. His dead stare went right through her.
“Run,” he squeaked.
“No!” she rejected his order. “We won’t let you go!”
He clenched his teeth. “Get out!”
Jeff shook his head, his jaw hanging. Then the cop slipped out of their clutches. Amy screeched through her hands. The kids were peeking from behind the front door.
Jeff barked, “Get inside!”
The Blazer rocked violently as Jenkins vanished. A blood-curdling cry sliced through the frigid morning. Immediately, shudders blasted down April’s spine.
She put her hands on the divider and tried to look up front. The sweltering smoke and terrible smell made her head spin. She had to lean back to keep from passing out. Black snow crept up the back of the driver’s seat, given a path by the flakes pouring in through the shattered windshield.
Jeff pulled the Plexiglas door closed.
“I-I think he’s gone.”
“NO! Jenkins!”
A dark mass slammed against the plastic, driving both April and Jeff back the seat. April shielded her eyes, but still had to look. She hated what she saw. Jenkins looked worse than McCullah. The top of his head had been sheared off, leaving his cranial cavity exposed, a thick, greyish-pink discharge quivering in the gaping wound. It looked like Jell-O slipping from its mold. His arms were still intact, mostly. He had no fingers on the left hand. A thumb, no fingers. His right hand looked fine, clinging to the partition, gripping the round ventilation holes. His mouth twitched open and closed, forming words, but not making a sound beyond a faint gurgling. Then a rippling streamer of blackness caught and pulled him into the fog again, smoldering with the stench of death.
The metal ceiling began to cave, crunching and crinkling.
SMASH!
One of the rear windows burst inward. Then another. Slivers of glass peppered both Jeff and April, bringing in the black snow. April saw steam rising from Jeff’s jacket. The creature’s rancid digestive juices went to work. She knew he needed to get the coat off, but they had to escape the vehicle before the whole thing collapsed on them like a soda can.
Dark clumps fell in through the broken windows, landing on the seat next to them. Heavy snowfall came into the vehicle from every direction. When the flakes landed, blackness hurried to overtake them, using the accumulation as a pathway.
He pushed her through the tailgate. Logan helped her get out. Amy stood in the doorway, shell-shocked.
“I told you, GO INSIDE!” Jeff screamed.
Logan was defiant. “No WAY! I’m helping!”
Jeff gave up and offered April and Logan his hands. They each took one and pulled. The blackness closed in, using the thin layer of snow building up on the backseat. It attached to his steaming coat, blistering through the outer layer of tough, tan material. By the time they had him on his feet, his jacket was mostly eaten away. Eyes wide, he took a startled breath and reached to peel it off.
“Don’t touch it!” April was too late.
He grabbed the collars and pulled.
A sickening sizzle, like frying an egg. Then the stench. Jeff dropped the jacket and stood motionless, staring at his hands, his fingertips smoldering. April examined the damage. It was bad, fingers charred to a crispy mess, skin crumbling and exposing a pink and white layer of fat and muscle. He shivered, holding his hands close to his chest.
Then the dark snow fully engulfed the Blazer and began sliding it toward the house.
“Come on! Get inside!” she forced Jeff in and Logan slammed the door.
“Dad! What’s wrong! Dad!” he reached for his father’s hands. Jeff growled and pulled them even tighter to his body, breathing fast and heavy. Logan looked at April. “What happened? Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine,” she said.
A terrible Crash! forced them away from the door. Logan looked out the window at the porch.
“Logan! Get back!” April commanded.
Jeff managed to tear his focus from his wound. “Goddammit! Logan! Get away from there!”
“It’s gone!” Logan ignored them. He pointed. “Dad! It’s gone! The black snow’s gone! So is the police truck—and half the porch—it’s all gone!”
TWENTY-NINE
APRIL GOT READY TO RUN when Jeff opened the door, but it looked exactly as Logan had described. The porch cover and two support posts had been ripped into several broken, jagged pieces and scattered throughout the snow-covered grass. The police 4X4 was missing. No trace left. Most surprising of all was the complete absence of black snow, as if the thing didn’t exist. The only sign of its presence was the grayish, churned-up frost. It had a slightly darker tone to it, and it looked like a dump truck had driven through. Clearly, though, the deadly entity had moved on.
“It did the same thing before,” Logan pointed out. “When it attacked me and Amy, it just stopped and went away.”
“But it was following Sadie then,” Amy’s voice trembled.
“Who’s Sadie?” April asked.
Amy stared at her. “My dog. It ran lured the monster away. We told you this.”
April rubbed her temples. “Sorry. Everything’s going so fast. It’s hard to keep up,” she looked at Jeff’s seared fingers. “We really need to take care of that. Logan? Do you guys have a first aid kit?”
Logan looked at his father.
“In my bathroom. Under the sink,” Jeff directed him. The boy took off up the stairs.
“What are we gonna do?” Amy held herself, staring out at the frozen front yard.
April closed the door and bolted the lock. “We’re going to get out of this—alive. That’s what we’re going to do,” she turned to Jeff. “Where are the keys to your pickup?”
Jeff shivered. “You’re not thinking about going out there, are you?”
“We have to. Look,” she pointed at the windows. A light frost covered the glass on the outside, collecting in the corners, catching the crevices and edges. “There’s snow all over. The windows, the walls, the roof. All over the goddam place. You saw what it did to that Blazer. Ripped it apart.”
Logan sprinted back downstairs, a small white box in his hands.
April got Jeff to the kitchen and used all the burn packs in the first aid kit on his blistered fingers. They weren’t burnt quite as bad as she’d first thought, though they were pretty well-done in places. Despite having absolutely no medical training beyond what she’d seen on House, she managed to bandage him up like a pro.
He smiled as she finished wrapping the final finger. “You sure you’re not a doctor?”
She smiled back. “Nope. A journalist. Born to be one. And I’ll tell you, this is the story of the century.”
“Yeah, if we survive to tell it,” Logan watched from the breakfast bar.
April glanced at him and nodded.
“Maybe we can get out of here,” Jeff tested his gauzed fingers. Flexing, bending. “Maybe that thing is…distracted with Jenkins right now. We might make it if we hurry.”
April crumpled the bandage wrappers and threw them in the trash. A nervous habit. “Then we’d better hurry.”
“We’re outta here…shit!” he lifted his right hand. The clips for the gauze had come off. The dressing was coming undone.
April corrected it, wrapping the bandage all the way to his wrist, and replacing the spiked metal fasteners. After she finished the second clip, she glanced outside and stopped breathing. Jeff noticed, too.
“SHIT!” he stepped back. April wanted to move away as well, but her legs didn’t oblige. The creature in the snow had taken over Jeff’s entire backyard. The lawn was big, at least two acres big, and black snow concealed everything. Complete dark. Over trees, on the grassy field. It came up to the back porch and inhabited the snow on the steps, the shrubs, the patio table, everywhere.
April was amazed. “It’s bigger.”
Jeff stepped next to her. “It’s…growing.”
Logan ran to the large sliding glass door and flicked the lock.
“Get away from there!” Jeff pulled him toward the center of the kitchen.
The window over the sink crackled. Just like in the Blazer, the darkness began to skulk upward, using the ice crystals as a conduit to the top, to the left, the right—until the entire pane was shrouded in black netting. The glass buckled, then shattered into tiny shards. April threw up her hands, expecting to be showered by the toxic substance. That didn’t happen.
“It can’t get in,” she caught her breath as the dark snow bubbled inside the windowsill.
“It’s double paned. There’s no frost on the inside,” Jeff said. “Not yet, at least.”
“Then there’s not much time,” she said.
Jeff snatched a keychain from a metal hook and hurried into the garage. “I park the truck in the pole barn,” he pressed a button on the wall—the automatic opener. “It looks like that thing’s in the back. We can go out this way.”
He stood and waited as the large, metal door lifted open by itself, the electric motor humming. April noticed shadows, dark areas shifting and crawling toward Jeff.
“Jeff! Look out!”
The door kept rising, bringing with it small clumps of black snow. Pieces dropped in front of his feet, mixing with the flakes floating in from the blizzard outside.
Jeff rushed to the wall and grabbed a shop broom with his bandaged hand. He began sweeping hard. It looked like he was trying to clean up wet sand. As he pushed, the broom head broke off into the black ooze. He nearly fell, but caught himself with the broomstick.
When the garage door reached the top, April’s jaw nearly came unhinged. The black snow had surrounded the house, extending in all directions. She blinked and blinked, trying to take in the sheer scale.
“It’s a lot fuckin’ bigger!” Logan screamed.
Jeff gave him a stern look. “Get back in the house!” he tossed what was left of the broom into the dark pool. “Back down in the basement, everybody!”
“What now?” April swallowed her fear.
“The only thing we can do. Wait,” he pulled the emergency release and the garage door came down fast on its tracks, crashing to the floor, trapping a section of dark snow inside. April covered her nose at the immediate aroma. In that enclosed area, the disgusting odor became unbearable.
“Shouldn’t we do something about that?” she sneered at the blackness, bubbling and popping on the floor.
“I’ve got an idea,” he rushed to a metal cabinet and pulled open a large drawer. Inside, he found a thin, gray and black canister with one end shaped similar to a gun.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“A blowtorch. I use ‘em all the time,” he turned a knob and flicked a trigger with his index finger. Whoosh! a blue flame shot from the nozzle.
“What are you, a handyman?”
He chuckled under his breath. “Yeah, something like that. When I can get the work.”
He adjusted the knob until the flame intensified, then pointed it at the concrete, sweeping wide and walking forward. April couldn’t believe it. The black snow melted into puddles of murky water. It didn’t churn or bubble or show any signs of life at all. Harmless.
“It’s working!” she declared.
“I think it is,” he focused the torch on a thick, dark clump. It liquefied on contact, steaming and flattening, joining the rest of the melted puddle. The remaining black snow reacted to the attack by retreating from the blowtorch. Cut off by the garage door, it had nowhere to go. He kept the flame blazing, melting it into lifeless liquid.
Someone in the basement screamed. April raced into the kitchen, then downstairs. She heard the cry again and didn’t know if it was Logan or Amy. It didn’t matter. When she reached the bottom floor, both kids were in terror, and she quickly found out why. Every window was covered in black. Some had been broken. She could tell right away they didn’t have double panes like the kitchen windows, and blackness crept around the jagged shards of glass. Bits of dark snow were sizzling into the leather couch and eating a hole into a throw rug. The kids huddled together in the small kitchenette, shouting. Before April could say anything, Jeff bounded down the stairs, running into her. He clutched her waist and yelled at the children.
“What?”
Logan pointed at the steaming clusters of stained snow on the couch.
“Shit!” Jeff hit them with the torch. The snow melted, but the couch caught fire. “Shit!” he took a small blanket from the loveseat and smothered the flames.
“Dad! Look!” Logan called his attention to some black clumps blistering the throw rug. Jeff shot that with the blowtorch and then snuffed out the fire again. Then he checked the damaged windows near the ceiling and stood on the couch to torch the broken glass. The contaminated snow
melted, but as soon as he dissolved one layer, another layer formed, reinforced by the constant snowfall.
Crash!
Small pieces of glass from another shattered window fell onto the ceramic tile flooring, transporting more bits of dark snow. Jeff climbed down to hit them with the flame.
April knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long. “Jeff! Let’s go!”
He didn’t respond. Crazed, he darted from one broken window to the next.
“Dad!” Logan tried to get a response. “Get away! It’ll kill you!”
Jeff paid no attention. As he swept across the wall with the torch, he clipped a piece of paper, a crayon drawing of a forest scene with a snowcapped mountain surrounded by trees. It caught fire and the flames reached a nearby shelf. It went up fast.
April pulled Jeff toward the stairs. He fought her, trying to grab the blanket he’d used earlier, but this time Logan joined in. Amy did, too. All three of them had to carry him as he cried out, “No! I’ve gotta put out the fire!”
“We have to save ourselves!” April shouted into his face. He stopped struggling and looked at her, then at his kid. Then, still carrying his blowtorch, he took the lead sprinting upstairs.
The walls shook. From overhead came a dreadful sound. It started subtly, then avalanched into awful crackling and splintering. It seemed an earthquake was threatening to bring the entire house down. White dust cascaded from the ceiling above the staircase. Picture frames banged against walls. The light fixture over the stairs swayed and lost a piece of glass. It came down at them, missing Logan by inches and smashing against the wood floor.
Jeff stopped, forcing the rest of them to pause with him. He looked downstairs, almost as if he wanted to go back.
“What’s happening!” April screamed over the crashing and rumbling.
“I don’t know!” knees bent, he put his free hand over his head and continued up. In the kitchen, black snow had begun to work its way up in narrow stems on the windows, thousands of them, filling the view with veins of darkness. The cellar below was becoming an inferno, and the roof above sounded like it wanted to plummet onto their heads.
Bitter Cold Page 19
