Danielle held her breath as she watched the crab stare out at the cityscape beyond the building, peering once to its left, lifting its head as if chasing the scent of Danielle, or perhaps searching for it, knowing instinctively that she must be close.
But Danielle wouldn’t wait for the monster to find her. Instead, she spun quickly around to the interior side of the door and pulled it closed, resisting the urge to raise her eyes and observe the attack, which she knew from the sound of the ghost’s scurrying feet was in progress.
The door latched closed with a thud, and Danielle was back on the landing of the interior stairway again, her back against the door as if keeping out the danger. She slowed her breathing, finally sighing with finality at having exorcised the beast to the roof. Within seconds, however, her heart was jolted to panic again as the crab hurled itself against the door from the outside.
Danielle shrieked and backed away, staring at the closed door suspiciously, waiting for the next crash which arrived seconds later.
They can’t work doors, she reminded herself, though she couldn’t imagine that skill deficiency would last forever. She considered locking the door again, just in case, but she planned to stay inside for only a moment. She still had a goal to achieve, and she wasn’t going to let a single crab discourage that effort.
Danielle focused now and descended the stairs quickly, and then she carefully gripped the barrel of the strewn rifle and pulled it from the precipice with care. She held the weapon tightly to her body like a toddler with a security blanket and then turned and walked back to the top of the stairs, with purpose now, hoping along the short route to manufacture the confidence she would need to open the door again.
She reached the top and listened as the barrage against the metal barrier continued outside. She listened for a pattern now, a sequence or span of time between attacks, something she could record to gauge when to push the door open.
After two or three minutes, Danielle hadn’t cracked any code, but she did note the delay between crashes was no less than eight seconds, and up to sixteen seconds on the high end. And they were beginning to diminish in ferocity as well, the thuds not rattling the door in the way they had in the beginning.
Danielle stopped on the third step from the top, and with the next slam, she gripped the doorknob and took a giant breath. Her palms were a sweaty mess, so she removed her hand from the knob and rubbed both palms down the thighs of her pants several times.
Another thudding crash and she re-gripped the door handle. That was it. One more and it was go time.
Bwum!
Danielle had figured eight seconds would be the right delay, gauging that the crab would linger on the door for a second or two after its assault and then turn and walk back toward the edge of the roof to begin another attempt. At that point, its back would be turned from the door, yet still close enough so as not to leave any question about the quality of Danielle’s shot.
Six. Seven. Eight.
Danielle took a breath, allowing one more second to elapse, just to be sure, and then she pushed open the door firmly (though not so quickly that it would recoil closed) and immediately put the rifle to her shoulder, aiming.
And there it was, a bit farther across the roof than Danielle had estimated, but its advancement had put it in the perfect spot for Danielle, just at the edge of the roof, its back still facing the rooftop door.
Danielle put the rifle sight to her eye, aligning the back of the monster’s head between the crosshairs, allowing her finger to rest limply against the trigger, ready to squeeze the crescent-shaped metal once she felt the aim was perfect.
Danielle let out a breath as the creature turned its head slowly toward her, the exhaustion and pain in the simple movement obvious. Its full torso followed next, displaying to Danielle the full carnage of blood and bruising that the beast had inflicted upon itself smashing against the heavy door.
They were so different now, she thought to herself (for what must have been the hundredth time since the melting). They were so much more violent than before.
She again reminisced about those first days outside the diner, when the snow on the ground still looked as white as talc and the creatures—‘Ghosts,’ the diner crowd had labeled them—first began to approach. Those beasts were reticent, docile even, and only after some unknown perimeter around them had been broken did they become violent, as when Greg had gotten so close to one he could have hugged it and was ripped apart.
But when the melting began, they began to change. And this new breed—the survivors—were nothing short of savage.
The crab (‘ghost,’ she remembered again. ‘Crab’ was Dominic’s name for the damned, not hers, so, at least for the moment, she decided to revert to their original moniker.) stood on two feet and took a step forward, hunched aggressively, its mouth open in a yawning gape.
Without hesitation, Danielle fired a shot to the middle of its chest.
The ghost recoiled several paces toward the thigh-high parapet that fortified the ledge of the roof, crashing against the wall just below its buttocks. It maintained its balance and stood tall, however, its eyes a mixture of confusion and fury.
Without dropping her eye from the sight, Danielle chambered another round and fired again, this time striking the ghost in the middle of the forehead.
As if yoked from behind by some invisible string, the ghost toppled backwards over the edge, its toes pointing straight to the sky for just a blink before it disappeared from the building.
For a second or two, the air was as silent as the ocean’s bottom, and then the unmistakable sound of shattering glass and bending metal rang out through the lot of the dealership below as the lifeless body of the ghost crashed atop the inventory.
And then came the blaring screech of a car alarm.
The police should be here soon, Danielle thought and then chortled aloud at the notion, knowing police response to a car alarm was an absurd idea even before the annihilation of Maripo and Warren Counties.
There would be no police, of course, but with the blaring screech of the alarm, Danielle assumed the ghosts would be on their way soon.
Danielle walked to the ledge and peered over, gawking at her dead victim’s crumpled torso below, which had landed draped across the frame of the windshield, its right leg wedged between the broken glass, keeping the corpse from slinking to the ground.
She looked up toward the street now and scanned the width of the city, not knowing what to expect exactly, but fearing the worst. The ghosts had the ability to hear, that much Danielle knew, but there was no indication they were attracted to loud sounds or sirens. In fact, Danielle imagined the noise currently being made by the alarm would be particularly unattractive to them, as it would be to most animals.
She contemplated once more firing at the hood of the car, to quiet the beacon, but then decided she would put the hypothesis of the noise lure to the test. If the alarm was indeed a draw, that would be new data, material to analyze, information that may come in handy one day.
Of course, there was a downside to acquiring that knowledge; if the ghosts emerged from the shadows like rats from a ship and came toward the dealership by the dozens, she would be in serious trouble, especially if this new breed could form the ladder of bodies and climb the way Dominic had once described a lifetime ago in Tom’s Diner.
Danielle walked to the western side of the roof, her thoughts wracking her nerves, and she suddenly had serious doubts about her decision to let the sound of the alarm continue to ring. She barely blinked as she scanned the distant streets for any hordes of ghosts, ready to turn with the rifle and take out the blaring siren behind her if she saw any mass movements. It may be too late by then, she knew—if the crabs discovered her location and waged an attack—and in that case, she would have no choice but to fight. She had killed three crabs already today—which wasn’t nothing—and she was more than impressed by how quickly she reunited with a rifle.
But she also possessed a limit
ed amount of ammo, and as her mind continued to race, she was beginning to develop a phobia of the roof. If they arrived en masse and surrounded the dealership, Danielle feared they would never leave. And then she would be stuck. And once the bullets were spent, she would be forced—somehow—to work her way back through the showroom and escape through the throngs. And then, even if she did make it out and through the hordes, she would still have to get home, unmolested and unseen.
Suddenly, the images Danielle conjured in her mind made the whole task seem impossible, and death now appeared the most likely outcome for the day. But a half hour passed with no sightings, and when the end of the first hour arrived without even the whisper of danger, Danielle’s anxiety began to wane. There were no packs coming for her—not on this day anyway—and almost another full hour passed before she saw the first movement of ghosts, a trio of creatures that had emerged from the rear parking lot of a Wendy’s three blocks down from the dealership.
It was a perfect scenario, exactly how she had envisioned the goal playing out when she’d first added the task to her list, with a small group of ghosts wandering alone, not too far from the sniper’s nest, yet far enough away to give her meaningful training.
Danielle ducked low and studied the group through the rifle sight, trying to control her breathing. Her palms quickly slickened with sweat again, and despite her earlier acumen in the parking lot, she was suddenly worried about the effect the perspiration would have on her shot. She stayed low behind the roof wall, though it was a move that was likely unnecessary; in her experience atop the realty building, she hadn’t once seen a ghost look up. Still though, no point taking a chance at this stage.
The three ghosts walked at a slow but even pace, their positions staggered by about ten feet or so, the middle ghost farthest behind. They moved along on all fours, resting on their haunches periodically, swiveling their heads back and forth in a spastic, anxious motion.
And though they were advancing toward the dealership, it didn’t appear that they were drawn specifically to the sound of the car alarm. Still, though, they were meandering in the direction of Maripo Mazda, getting closer with every step.
No point in letting them get too close, Danielle thought. This is as good as it’s likely to get.
She took a deep breath, freeing her lungs of the polluted air of anxiety, clearing her mind for the shot. Her whole purpose for being there was to develop the skill of killing from distance, and this was the opportunity she had been waiting for.
She steeled her body now as she took aim at the middle ghost, the one in the back and farthest away. She gauged it to be the slowest of the three, as well as the one moving least erratically.
Danielle licked her lips once and swallowed, and then she squeezed the trigger.
The ghost hit the ground instantly, but its head flailed in anger and pain, and Danielle knew immediately that it wasn’t dead. The way it had fallen flat to its chest, she had likely struck it in the thigh, or perhaps the right hip; she had crippled it for sure, but it wasn’t a kill.
The other two crabs moved away quickly, not exactly terrified by the sound of the report and their newly fallen companion, but agitated for sure.
Danielle quickly aligned the crosshairs over the head of the fallen middle ghost and fired again. This time, however, she missed the beast entirely and instead struck the pavement behind the ghost, summoning from the pewter ground an explosion of dirt and asphalt.
And then it happened.
For the first time since Danielle had begun studying the ghosts from atop the C.M. Jones Realty building, one of the creatures looked up toward the roof and directly toward Danielle.
She ducked below the parapet and sat with her back to the wall, scrunching her shoulders and neck low. Had it seen her? Perhaps not her face or even the rifle, but certainly it had seen movement, and that’s all that really mattered. Danielle didn’t know the extent of the ghosts’ intelligence, but she had seen enough of them to know they weren’t the mindless monsters of zombie films.
A sound had rung and a ghost had fallen, and its brother had then seen movement from a rooftop in the distance. There was no question they would be coming.
Danielle wasted no more time thinking and again positioned herself atop the parapet, crouched as far down as possible now so that her head barely rose above the rifle sight. She was in the posture of a true sniper, keenly aware of her position and vulnerability. She shot a third time and again missed everything but the street, and this time both unharmed beasts looked up toward her, the one on her left twitching its head like a curious beagle, its eyes like tiny black holes drilled into a white star.
That one had seen her. Or, Danielle considered, it had at least seen where the shot originated. She hid again behind the low wall of the roof, barely breathing, hoping that in the short time it would take for them to arrive, her position on the roof would wane in the minds of the creatures.
Just be still for a few seconds and they’ll eventually move on, she thought, knowing in her heart it was a lie.
Danielle counted to twenty in her head and then turned back to the ledge, lifting her eyes slowly over the wall in the direction of the crabs.
Gone.
At the pace they were moving, by now they would have been somewhere in the middle of the block where the dealership sat, though the injured ghost was likely dragging farther behind. Danielle rose to a stooping position and walked to the ledge ninety degrees to her left, searching for the troupe.
Nothing.
It was possible they had already passed the building and were at the next cross street, though it would have meant a pretty fast pace. But maybe they were scared, she considered, and had upped the pace to flee the danger.
Danielle suddenly feared the failure of her goal. If this group passed and another didn’t come again soon, she would have to leave, which meant she would have to make the trek back to Maripo Mazda tomorrow. Her nerves wouldn’t allow it, she thought, not after the encounters with the other ghosts in the lot.
She stood tall now and searched the main avenue past the dealership, still seeing nothing.
A clanging sound suddenly erupted from the ground in the area of the lot where the ghost had plummeted and was harmonizing with the car alarm.
Danielle, now on the opposite side of the roof from where the ghost had landed, spun in the direction of the sound. She put a fist to her mouth in fear, and then, as if spooked that she had taken her hand from the rifle, gripped the butt and put it to her shoulder and walked slowly toward the edge of the roof where the ghost had gone over.
She was halfway to the parapet when the alarm suddenly stopped, and the tinny banging sound that had accompanied it ceased a second later. Danielle froze in place, staring at the ledge, her throat tight, suddenly gripped with thirst. She waited for several seconds, listening, hearing only the lightest of scraping sounds below, so soft they would have gone unnoticed in any other circumstance.
She took another step toward the ledge. Then another. Now maybe fifteen feet away, trying to look over the ledge, craning her neck, standing tippy toe. But the place where the crab from inside the dealership had fallen was directly down from the ledge; she would need to get closer.
Danielle took an additional step, and as she lifted her foot to take another, the tips of four white fingers slapped atop the parapet, followed by a second set three feet apart.
Danielle screamed and raised the rifle, and as she did, the face of the ghost appeared in her sight, its eyes black and relaxed, its mouth a thin line of apathy. She shot and missed again, though the bullet seemed maybe to have clipped the thing’s ear.
The direct threat of Danielle seemed to trigger a new strength in the beast, and it lunged its torso quickly up over the parapet, followed by the swing of its legs. In seconds, it was on the roof, staring at Danielle, its body crouched and crooked, its eyes ebony beads.
Crabs, Danielle thought absently. That’s what Dominic saw.
Danielle
didn’t move her feet, but instead followed the white monster in her sight as it hopped nimbly around the perimeter. She rotated the barrel in a half turn and suddenly a second ghost appeared in the sight, near the ledge where Danielle was standing only seconds earlier.
“Shit!” she cried, firing off another round and missing badly. Reflexively, Danielle reached in her pocket for a replacement magazine
The first ghost that had scaled the building was now gone from Danielle’s view, having disappeared behind one of the HVAC units that rose from the roof like short tin soldiers. But the second ghost stayed crouched before Danielle, exposed, almost daring her to shoot. She stared at it for several beats, trying to measure its intent, and then she lifted the gun slowly and placed the sight against her socket. She was sure of her shot this time, unmissable. Danielle rested her finger against the trigger, crooking the top of the digit around the metal crescent. But before she could squeeze off another round, the beast finally reacted to the danger Danielle posed and hopped forward like a spider, brushing past her and scrambling toward a long tunnel of air conditioning vents.
Danielle shrieked and lowered the gun, watching the chalky menace disappear around the metal corridor. She drifted again toward the edge of the roof and began to quickly walk the perimeter, searching for the third ghost in the trio now, wondering if it, too, had scaled the wall somehow.
She cleared the first two sides of the rectangle, and then the second two, nearly sprinting as she went around, constantly glancing toward the ventilation system which shrouded the first two white adversaries.
The final sides of the dealership’s perimeter showed no signs of danger, which made sense in Danielle’s mind, since the last ghost was wounded, probably badly, and it wouldn’t have been able to scale the walls of the building with a shattered leg.
Danielle kept the backs of her thighs to the parapet and did a slow skulk now, taking the role of the hunter. She had the gun. She had the advantage.
Cwung!
The sound was low, like a timpani, originating from the far end of the air duct where the tubing entered the roof of the dealership. Danielle snapped her head toward it in time to see the ripple in the sheet metal where the ghost had unwittingly bumped against it. She held her breath and cocked her head toward the area, trying to align her eyes and ears to give her the perfect location of the sound.
They Came With The Snow (Book 3): The List Page 5
