Ryan something.
Adam couldn’t remember the last name, but it was the guy who’d made her so upset.
The house was huge, much bigger than his own parents’ home.
He had taken Mae to his parents’ house only once before, when they'd been younger and in the throes of puppy love. He lived on the edge of an apple orchard that his parents used to run. During the autumn months, he and his brothers and sisters would staff the roadside stand, selling fresh apples and cider. As they'd gotten older, his parents had moved south, and he'd taken over the apple orchard. His parents’ house was now his house, and it was modest, but tiny and homely compared to this mansion.
Bright yellow light glowed from the windows and made the new snow glitter on the manicured landscaping. Adam couldn't help feeling a little jealous that Mae had insisted on coming here, and he hated that he would be sitting out in the car while she went inside. He felt a gnawing pit in his stomach.
"They call these things McMansions, you know," Adam said quietly, "like quick service, low quality houses you get at the drive through."
"Are you pouting?" she asked with a sly smile, and he laughed. He shook his head because he didn't want her to think that he was jealous. And why should he be? After all, they'd shared their first kiss in the mountains. Adam was her first love, and Mae was his first. She'd told him that on the drive there, and he was both happy and sad to hear it. He'd never forgotten about her, and when she'd disappeared those many years ago, he had thought she was gone forever. It was this other guy who should be jealous of him.
"You sure you want me to stay here and wait?"
"Of course." She leaned into him again and kissed him again on the cheek. He tried to hold her, to kiss her on the mouth, but she turned away.
"I'll be back in a few minutes," she said.
"Okay, hurry though."
"I will." She opened the door and shivered in the blast of cold air and snow. Adam offered his coat, but she was already gone, darting up to the front door. He watched her go, then peered up at the house again. Maybe one day, Adam thought, maybe one day soon. His investment from years earlier was about to pay off, and the payoff would be sweet. He smiled, enjoying one of his favorite pastimes of late, thinking about what he would do with his earnings.
The door opened and Adam caught a glimpse of this guy, Ryan. Ryan looked past Mae to see who was still in the driveway. Their eyes connected briefly, but Mae pushed him inside and shut the door behind her. For just a second, he could see their figures in the blurred glass window in the center of the door, and then they were gone, disappearing in the mass of house.
Adam turned on the radio. He liked classic rock, and one of his favorite songs, American Pie, came through the speakers. But after a minute of listening, he shut off the radio and fidgeted. He hated being here, waiting for Mae to finish up with another guy. The fact that she'd kissed him and promised to come back were good signs, though. Ever since seeing her for the first time since high school, he couldn't get her off his mind.
Back then, Mae had not belonged to the "in" crowd, but she was well-liked, pretty and funny. He remembered loving to hear her laugh, and the way she would look at others like she was trying to put a puzzle together. Mae was always trying to figure people out, as if she was looking for a secret she hoped was there, but more often than not, couldn't be found.
Things made a little more sense on the last day he'd seen her in high school, when her dad had come with several other people to pull her out of school. Adam had seen the guns. He remembered glimpsing the polished metal of a gun, kept hidden beneath a coat, and he remembered how his stomach had leapt and how hard it had been to breathe. For several seconds, nightmare scenarios of guns in schools played out in his mind, but then he noticed—or noticed again—that Mae's father was with these men. And the principal of their school. And the men with guns looked official, as if they were only there on business.
Not every one of the men had a gun, and those that did had done their best to keep the weapons hidden from the students. But Adam had seen them, and he knew right then and there that Mae had secrets of her own.
He'd seen the way the desks and bookshelves had moved, flung about the room as if by some invisible force. He remembered the shouts and screams as they had rushed out of the room—everyone except Mae—and she was crying, lowering herself to the floor in the center of the room as the men with guns surrounded her, and Adam had been pushed out of the room. It was the last he'd seen of the girl he'd fallen in love with in high school.
Now, Mae was more quiet and elusive than she had been in high school, hiding whatever secrets were buried inside. She looked very similar but had grown into her body and features. If she had been pretty in high school, she was beautiful now, and Adam had a difficult time not thinking about her.
Where was she? Adam peered up at the house, searching for any sign of her. He considered walking up to the front door, but that would be awkward, of course. He fantasized about popping Ryan in the nose as soon as the guy opened the door, then taking Mae's hand and running away into the night. He looked at his watch and saw that only three or four minutes had passed, and he decided that he would wait at least ten minutes before doing anything.
A movement in his rearview mirror caught his eye. He looked up and saw a semi-truck pulling onto the street, pulling a large flatbed trailer.
That's odd, he thought, wondering why such a large truck was driving through such a nice residential neighborhood. The brakes on the truck squeaked, as it pulled to a stop a few houses down from where Adam was parked. He noticed a van parked across the street and felt the first twinges of fear, reminding him of that day in high school.
A soft tap on the driver's side window drew his attention away from the truck and van. He looked to his left and saw someone in black fatigues holding the muzzle of a silenced rifle to his window. He saw a flash an instant before the first bullet smashed through the window, shattered glass exploding inward.
"No," Adam yelled. "Wait, wait!"
The second bullet caught him in the shoulder as he raised his hands to show that he was unarmed. That's stupid, he thought absently, as his body was thrown from his seat into the passenger side window. In the last instant before the third bullet was fired, he saw three—no four—more people in black fatigues with guns, running toward the house. They were after Mae.
Adam snatched something from the floor of the passenger seat of the car, realizing as he grasped it that it was Mae's bag, and chucked it through the window at the gun as it fired. The bag knocked the barrel aside, and the bullet struck the seat not inches from Adam's head. He scrambled head, under the steering wheel, and pressed the accelerator. The engine screeched, but it wasn't in gear. With his knee, he knocked the gear shift into reverse and the tires squealed as his car shot backwards. From his place on the floor beneath the steering wheel, he shut his eyes and pressed harder on the accelerator. He couldn't see, but he could feel the car speeding backwards down the driveway. Something slammed into the back of the car and crashed through the back window. He felt a spray of glass but he kept the accelerator pressed all the way down. The car jolted as it cleared the curb on the opposite side of the street and then crashed abruptly in an explosion of twisting metal and shattering glass.
Adam pushed up from the floor, pain from the bullet wound in his shoulder shooting through his arm and chest. His arm buckled and he crumpled back to the floor. He stayed there for several seconds, breathing raggedly and trying to hold onto consciousness. They were coming for him, he knew that. They would kill him this time, a bullet to the head, and they wouldn't miss. He gritted his teeth and pushing through the pain in his shoulder, pushed himself up onto the seat of the car.
Someone's hand brushed against his face and Adam almost screamed. The hand was of course connected to an arm that hung limply over the middle console, in turn connected to the lifeless body crumpled in the back seat.
No, not quite lifeless. The mangled figure w
as still breathing, but unconscious. Adam realized that it was one of the soldiers who'd been hit by the car and thrown through the back window when he'd made his escape. Adam lifted the guy’s helmet and saw blood pooling in the faceplate. His eyes fluttered and Adam dropped the helmet, which landed with a thud.
Voices carried over from across the street, then the crash of breaking glass. He had to move—they would be coming after him any second now. He tried the door, but it was jammed. The driver-side window was broken though, so he scrambled out of the car through the window and tumbled to the icy ground below. He glanced around quickly to make sure the coast was still clear. Luckily, the car had turned sideways in his frantic backwards escape, and the body of it was now hiding him from view. He heard shouts and voices, followed by gunshots and an explosion that shook the neighborhood. Adam dropped to his belly, looking across the street from under the car in time to see billows of smoke and flames shoot from the windows and doors of the McMansion. Soldiers were ducking through the smoke and entering the house, rifles raised.
Mae... A lump of panic stuck in Adam’s throat.
The fire and gunshots held his attention for several seconds, and he almost didn't see the two men crossing the street toward the wrecked car. They came carefully, as if expecting him to pull another surprise move like he'd done before. But Adam had no weapons and no way to defend himself. He heard their soft footsteps getting closer. He looked around with frenzied dread, trying to find a place to hide. They were coming for him, and they would kill him.
He crawled under the cover of snow-blanketed bushes nearby, squeezing beneath the branches and crawling as far into the tangle as possible, praying that they wouldn't find him.
When the footsteps neared, Adam shut his eyes and held his breath. He listened for any sounds that they had found him, and then thought about the tracks he must have made in the snow as he crawled under the bushes. If the soldiers searched the ground at all, he would be found.
He could hear the two soldiers behind where he lay, circling the wrecked car, their footsteps heavy on the ice and snow.
"Is he dead?"
Adam heard rustling and he pictured one of the soldiers pulling the limb body from the car far enough to check a pulse.
"Faint pulse."
"Terminate."
Adam heard snap of the silenced bullet and the thud as it punched into the unconscious soldier. The footsteps continued.
A radio crackled.
"Any sign of the kid?" a voice said through the radio, and Adam prayed that they wouldn't see his tracks through the snow.
"No. He must have climbed from the car and gotten away."
"He'll turn up," the radio voice said. "We've got the girl. Call in the clean up crew to take care of this mess."
"Roger that," the soldier said. Adam heard a shuffle in the snow and the footsteps retreated. He breathed a sigh of relief and peered out from under the bush. Across the street, the house was on fire, but figures in black were still darting inside. He watched the back door of the semi trailer open, spilling white light onto the ground outside. Several of the soldiers unloaded a stretcher and carried it into the house.
What is going on? he wondered.
The two soldiers who'd been hunting were walking back to the burning house, one of them barking orders into his radio. The other glanced back in Adam's direction and paused. He turned, staring right at the place where Adam was hiding.
"Wait!" the soldier called. "I think I see something."
Chapter Four
The explosion of light and sound knocked Ryan to the floor, his shoulder crunching as he rolled. Mae fell beside him, hitting her head on the wood floor. He lay there in a daze, unsure of what had just happened. The room was on fire and he thought he saw people coming through the front door with guns.
But that was impossible.
“Mae,” he whispered, his breathing ragged and heavy. He tried to get up, but suddenly heard a strange buzzing sound that seemed to come from inside his head. The sound, if it could really be called a sound, rattled the bones in his face, and the smell of static filled the air.
Something in the back of his mind told him that he should be smelling smoke, not static. One of the curtains at the far end of the room had caught fire, the dark smoke billowing up toward the ceiling, the off-white paint curling in the heat and turning black.
He pushed himself up on all fours and began climbing to his feet then realized that Mae was gone. She’d been right there beside him, but she was gone.
“Mae?” he said, but his voice cracked. He stumbled, still in shock at the blast that had ripped through his house.
"Ryan!" Mae screamed, and she screamed his name again and again. He saw her figure in the smoke, and then someone was behind her, lifting her from the ground by the hair. She punched backwards, kicked with her feet and pushed, but he wrenched her to the side, and she felt the burn in her scalp as her hair pulled.
"Ryan!" Mae yelled again, and he could see tears running down her face as she struggled.
The buzzing roared in his head and the smell of static grew until it was almost unbearable, like the unburned smell of the air and earth before a lightning strike. The hairs on his arms stood on end. He felt frozen in place, as if something had clicked in his brain, rendering his limbs useless.
Through the rising smoke, he saw pieces of wood and glass floating through the air.
Ryan stared at the floating objects as they began to move in a slow motion around Mae and her captor. She was crying and screaming his name, and he wanted to rescue her. He wanted to save her, to rush forward and rip that man apart, but things were floating in the air and the static in the air was debilitating.
“She’s piquing!” someone yelled, far enough away that Ryan couldn’t see who it was.
The man holding Mae’s hair kneed her in the face and she almost went slack as blood burst from her nose. The panic in her face faded, and the static in the air suddenly disappeared as if it hadn’t been there at all. The floating debris dropped to the floor.
The man yanked at Mae’s hair, pulling her to her feet, and she came willingly, crying through the blood and smoke.
“No!” Ryan screamed and charged through the billowing smoke. He leapt through the air and drove his entire body into the man who was dragging Mae out the front door. His aim was true and he felt the ribs in the man’s side crack, heard his grunt as they tumbled first into the wall, then to the ground. Ryan screamed like a maniac, losing control as he punched the man over and over again in the face, kicking and beating in a frenzy.
"Run, Mae!" Ryan shouted. "Get out of here!"
But Mae didn’t move.
The man beneath him was limp, and Ryan was turning to help Mae from the ground when he saw the butt of a rifle swing toward his face from the smoke. He ducked, but it struck him at the base of his head and he dropped to the ground with a thud.
Distantly, he heard people talking.
"She's still piquing," that same voice said. "Administer the agent, quickly now."
In a darkened daze, he saw the man whom he’d just attacked get to his feet. Ryan saw the man lift his boot and send it crashing into his gut, driving the wind from his lungs and sending a shock wave of pain throughout his body.
"Do you see her?" Dr. Whaler asked, turning his head to watch her struggle. "She's like a fish trying to breathe out of water. Administer the second dosage."
As if from far away, and through a shroud of agony, he saw them sticking a needle in Mae’s neck and pressing down on the syringe.
A man stood over her, smiling, as several others readied a gurney. They lifted Mae's limp body and set it on the rolling stretcher. Ryan wanted to get up and stop them.
Where are they taking you? he thought. He wanted to stop them, but everything was getting dark. He struggled to stay awake, fought the unconsciousness that rolled toward him. They were pushing Mae out of his house, and the flames climbed the walls and licked at the ceiling, the paint turning
black and curling before floating away like black snowflakes. The painting of the fox hunt that Mae had been admiring only minutes before fell to the ground with a crash and a burst of burning embers and smoke.
He was fading, and Mae was gone. They took her from the house.
They took her.
His vision ebbed, swallowed by darkness.
Chapter Five
The water rushed up and around her body, so cold it took her breath away. Mae dug her fingers and toes deep into the sand, trying to escape the freezing water, and her body convulsed with shivers. Tattered and torn umbrellas lined the sand, with crumpled towels and strewn beach toys in piles. Tropical trees were dark with ice, the water such a dark blue, it was almost black, outlined by the frosty white froth that capped the waves.
Mae was alone, and she was scared. The water rushed up the beach while snow and sleet fell in sheets all around her. Mae's body convulsed from the cold. Her muscles ached beneath her numb skin. Nearby, the remains of a crab washed up in the surf, mangled and frozen.
And then she saw it.
In the distance, a tall grey figure was staggering toward her, walking along the shore. The water rushed up around its feet and legs, matting the fur. At first, Mae wasn't sure what it was, only that it was very thin. As it neared her, she saw the long snout and glimmering teeth, the abnormally long legs and arms, and the mangy fur that was falling out and revealing cracked white skin beneath. Its yellow eyes glared at her as it shuffled closer, splashing through the water.
Mae's heart thudded and she wanted to crawl away from this place. The wolf that had haunted her dreams as a child, hunting her through the ages, had finally found her sanctuary. The grey wolf had entered the world she had created. Its teeth glinted in the dull sun, and slobbery mucus dripped from its snout in long strings, tinted red from its last meal. It clenched its long fingers and the sharp claws clicked together. Its bones clicked and shuddered as it grew closer. Its hot and fetid breath misting in the wintery wind.
The Snow Swept Trilogy Page 45
