They Came With The Snow (Book 3): The List

by Coleman, Christopher

  Danielle could only stare in frightened disbelief over the steering wheel, fearful not only of her current predicament, but of how much she still didn’t understand about this enemy with whom she shared a world. She had yet to witness this exact behavior, despite her almost daily study of them.

  The Mazda was still in drive, and Danielle slowly felt the car begin to drift. The movement snapped her back to the moment, and she quickly moved her foot to the brake, pressing on the pedal as if she were trying to push it through to the street below.

  She turned and looked frantically over her left shoulder, then her right. The ghosts were everywhere, about eight feet apart from each other, perhaps twenty feet or so from the car.

  The crabs were crouched in their familiar way, subtly bouncing and swaying as they studied their target, their disconnected eyes never shifting an inch.

  “Screw it,” Danielle said aloud. “I’ve got four thousand pounds under me. That’s enough to crush all you fuckers five times over.”

  She lifted her foot up from the brake and eased the car forward, testing the reaction of the crabs in front of her. Nothing at first, so she continued drifting further until she was maybe nine feet or less from the ghost directly on path, the one that would first feel the front of the car’s grill if it didn’t move.

  Another yard and the ghost finally hopped a step back, though not to the side; it was a motion that seemed almost a taunting gesture, Danielle thought, as if it were leading her like a matador. Danielle already knew the creatures had at least a primitive instinct for self-preservation—she’d seen it on the roof of the dealership and the previous night at the jewelry store—but their behavior here was something else. Danielle would have expected them to fear the car, or at the least be suspicious of the large rumbling machine. But they seemed neither.

  “This is why I don’t come out at night,” Danielle scolded herself.

  That was a mantra she’d stuck to since her arrival at the bar. Don’t come out at night. There was plenty of time during the day to do whatever task was on the agenda. There was too much that could go wrong at night. And this night was a case in point.

  Had they been waiting for her? she thought. Maybe the arrival of Davies and McCormick had led the creatures to her location. Lord knew the soldiers had been loud enough.

  Or maybe it was the two that had tracked her and Davies down to Bigg’s Jewelry. And then, once she killed the last one with the shotgun, the blast alerted a horde of them and they simply awaited her return to the area. Patiently. All night. Relentlessly.

  Danielle lowered her foot on the accelerator for just a half-second, revving the engine so that the RPM gauge shot to the right, and as the car lurched forward, the ghosts in front scattered, with Danielle nearly clipping the legs of the crab by the right fender. It wasn’t her goal to hit them—she didn’t want to start damaging the car for no reason—but if she was forced to run a couple of these bastards over, she was perfectly willing to do that.

  She checked her mirrors again and could now see that the ghosts behind the car were following, and Danielle thought for sure now that they were tracking her, hoping she would lead them to her home.

  No chance, bitches.

  Danielle gave a firm press on the accelerator now, and, in a matter of seconds, the car was past the front crabs and cruising steadily away at forty miles an hour. Another few seconds and the crabs were out of sight and Danielle was on the edge of the small downtown area.

  She turned left at Dimon Avenue, the last cross street before Franklin turned to Frederick and the row of commercial buildings began to transform into residential homes.

  Once on Dimon, she drove at a jogging pace, winding up and then back down the small city streets, taking each one to its dead end before snaking back and then reversing the route. She did this for several minutes, hoping the crabs had continued to follow her, not comprehending that they could never keep up with the car on foot, yet still unable to resist the compulsion to chase.

  After ten minutes or so of doubling back several times, all the while marking a few of the shops she thought worthy of further investigation, potential sources of supplies, just in case the whole escape plan fell through, she turned back toward the Flagon, taking Annandale around to the east end of the alley.

  She parked the car so that it was blocking the side street and then did a quick scan of the area, the sunlight of dawn finally making its presence felt on the day, penetrating the clouds which had begun to thin. The streets were clear, and Danielle quickly exited the Mazda, easing the door closed, and then sprinted toward Raise the Flagon.

  At the top of the stairwell, she checked the landscape one last time and then lifted the particle board and descended the steps to the bar. She opened the door and backed in, and when she turned around, she shrieked at the voice that broke through the darkness.

  “Thought you’d abandoned me.”

  It was McCormick. He was sitting at the bar drinking what appeared to be a glass of dark soda; it could have been whiskey or rum, Danielle supposed, but she doubted it. His legs and arms were free of the restraints, and the rifle and shotgun were still resting in their respective spots, yards away from McCormick, right where Danielle had left them.

  Danielle’s eyes flickered toward the weapons, and the soldier noticed.

  “I’m going to help you, okay. Or at least I’ll do the best I can.” McCormick shrugged, indicating that was the only thing he could think of to say. He looked at his ankles. “But it’ll be a lot harder with my ankles taped together.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that,” Danielle quipped, “I’m sure you understand.”

  McCormick rested his drink on the bar top and hopped to the floor. He looked at Danielle sheepishly and gave a sad grin. “Actually, I don’t understand. Not really. If it had been me, and you were one of the people who’d been keeping me captive in this hellhole for the past...what, four or five months? I would’ve pumped a shot right into the middle of your chest before you had a chance to blink and then taken my chances going it alone.”

  McCormick turned and pointed at the list above the bar.

  “And then I would’ve made a nice thick mark across goal Number 4.” He smiled brightly and then dropped his eyes in shame. “So, please, don’t apologize. It only makes me seem like more of a villain.”

  Danielle nodded several times, considering how to respond. “Okay, I won’t then.” She then contorted her face to a squinted grin and shook her head in a quiver. “I was just saying it to be polite anyway.”

  McCormick chuckled and nodded. “Good.” He held Danielle’s eyes for several seconds, studying her face. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Really? That’s strange because...oh, wait, that’s because I did see a ghost. Almost literally. A couple dozen of them, in fact.”

  “Jesus. Where?”

  Danielle took a deep breath and rolled her eyes in exhaustion, and then she walked past McCormick to the bar. She reached over the counter and, with one trained hand, grabbed the bottle of Dewar’s and a shot glass. She then ambled to the table where the shotgun lay and sat.

  “I think you might have drawn them out,” she said, pouring the Dewar’s, not bothering to measure the perfect shot, erring on the heavy end. “And in our direction. You and...Davies.” The memory of Davies slicing his neck open flashed in her mind, and she frowned. “By the way, I am sorry about him. I don’t know if you two were friends or not, but—”

  “Don’t be. He was going to—”

  “I know. I understand what was going to happen. Still, he was a person and probably not a bad one in most areas of his life. I’m sure he had a family and friends who will miss him. Anyway, I could tell he was conflicted about what’s happening in here—and it sounds like maybe out there too—the same way you are.”

  McCormick nodded. “Maybe not the same way, but yeah, you’re probably right. But what gives you reason to think that? Did he say something to you?”

  Daniell
e locked eyes with the soldier and then considered for a moment retelling the events in Bigg’s Jewelry, about the way he had changed so quickly after being injured by the crabs. And about his subsequent suicide, a gesture Danielle would always believe was done to protect her.

  But the story was a little much for her to speak about in the moment, especially considering the attack she’d just escaped, and it was probably too much for McCormick to hear.

  “Maybe another time,” she said.

  McCormick nodded again, seeming to understand that the magnitude of whatever was on Danielle’s mind required the subject to be put off for the night.

  “So then is it true?” Danielle asked. “Is this...event happening everywhere? Davies said there have been other cases. That crabs had shown up outside the cordon.”

  McCormick’s eyebrows twitched up reflexively. “That’s the report, yes. And apparently, it’s been confirmed. I haven’t seen it with my own eyes, but yeah, let’s just say there’s concern. And, due to that concern, they’ve begun ramping up efforts to clear the last of the Internals.”

  “And thus, why you’re here right now.”

  McCormick closed his eyes in a long, rueful blink. “Yes.”

  “How many of us are still inside?”

  McCormick shook his head. “Not many. A handful, we think. But we really have no way of knowing.”

  Neither spoke for a few minutes as Danielle relished her drink. Finally, McCormick said, “Crabs, huh? That’s an interesting term for them.”

  Danielle chortled. “Yeah, but it’s not mine. And I go back and forth between that one and ‘ghosts.’ Not mine either. But both seem to fit.”

  “I like it. The military calls them ‘corrupted.’”

  “Of course they do.”

  McCormick smiled.

  Danielle shot the last of the Dewar’s and held the bottle up as an offering to McCormick, who held up his palms, declining.

  “You might want to reconsider. It could be the last drink you ever have. Come this afternoon, if you’re still coming with me, we’re heading toward the cordon. And if things go well, outside of it. With what you’ve said, about ramping up efforts to clear us out, I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

  McCormick nodded. “I agree. And leaving that soon might even give us an additional advantage.”

  “How’s that?”

  McCormick gave a nonchalant shrug of the shoulder. “Now that the contamination has spread beyond the cordon, even though it’s only been a couple of cases and they’ve managed to extinguish them quickly, the brass is starting to reconsider their tactics. They’ve been able to keep the press under control for the most part, but that can’t last forever. Leaks are beginning to occur. People—soldiers and others on the inside of this thing—are starting to feel the pressure of their consciences. Anyway, let’s just say those in charge are getting concerned.”

  “So how does that help us?”

  “For one, they’re having to expand the cordon to account for the spread, which means a wider perimeter and fewer resources at any one spot. And second, we don’t have the time or resources to debrief every soldier that shows up at the cordon. It’s battlefield promotions out there. So when you and I approach the gates, there won’t be a whole lot of questioning about where I’m coming from or what I’m doing.”

  “Approach the gates? Is that what you think the plan should be? That might be true about not interrogating you, but don’t you think they might have a question or two for me, some random woman rolling shotgun?”

  “They won’t see you. You’ll be in the trunk of that car you mentioned.”

  “There won’t be questions if you come out in a Mazda?” Danielle asked.

  McCormick shook her off. “It’s not unprecedented. It’s a good way to transport the dead ones out without risking infection of our own vehicles.”

  Danielle nodded slowly, suspicion creeping into her eyes. “Well, it was a few blocks away, but now it’s parked down at the end of the alley.”

  “Perfect.”

  “But before we leave, we have to make a stop first.”

  McCormick lifted his eyebrows. “A stop? Like to pick up a gallon of milk?”

  “No.” Danielle didn’t crack a grin at the joke.

  “Well...that’s probably not the best idea. They already have eyes on this place and—”

  “I thought you were the eyes.”

  “Yeah, well, they have eyes on the eyes. At least I think so. But here, in this bar, at this time of the morning, this is as hidden as we’re gonna get. They wouldn’t have sent another team in yet. Plus, you moved the car when it was still dark, so even if there were other soldiers surveying the area, it’s not likely they would have noticed until later in the day. The time is now. It’s not going to get better than this.” And then, as if he were the one in charge, McCormick snapped, “No stops.”

  Danielle cocked her head quizzically at the soldier, as if suddenly realizing some misjudgement she’d made about the man. She didn’t appreciate the way he’d flopped the command onto the end of his opinion, and she was now a bit wary again.

  “You can go back alone then soldier,” she stated coldly. “Like I said, I have a stop to make, and I’m going to make it.”

  McCormick held up his hands defensively and gave a conciliatory nod. “Okay, I was just trying to give us the best chance. But if this errand of yours is a must, then I understand.”

  Danielle gave the soldier another leer as she brushed by him. “So glad you do.”

  4.

  Danielle and McCormick walked quickly to the top of the Flagon steps and stood watching the dark alley for several seconds, each scanning the length of the narrow road, allowing their eyes to adjust to the day.

  Nothing.

  They looked at each other and nodded and then sprinted to the car.

  Danielle took the driver’s seat and the instant the passenger door closed, she shifted the car in gear and sped toward the Jenkins’ residence. Within minutes, she was parking the Mazda next to Scott Jenkin’s pickup truck, which appeared not to have moved since her last visit.

  “Please be here,” Danielle whispered; they were the first words spoken by either person since they’d left the bar.

  “What are you hoping to find here?” McCormick asked.

  “Not what? Who?”

  McCormick’s eyes grew wide and he tilted his head, confused. “Wait...we can’t bring anyone else out with us. You know that, right. There’s no way.”

  “We’re going to try.”

  McCormick put his hands over his face. “Is that what we’re doing here? You think I can get two people out? You’re kidding? Getting you out is going to be hard enough.”

  “Why? The trunk is big enough for more than one person.”

  McCormick scoffed loudly and seemed ready to throw a fit.

  Danielle gave the soldier another cold stare. “Like I said back at the bar, Mr. McCormick, you don’t have to be a part of this. Just give me a head start, that’s all I ask of you.”

  “You won’t make it by yourself.”

  “I guess I’ll have to hope the resources are spread out like you said, and that my marksmanship is up to snuff.”

  “Marksmanship? So now you’re ready to shoot someone again? I thought that wasn’t a goal of yours anymore.”

  “Didn’t say that. I said I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to.”

  McCormick stayed quiet for a few beats and then asked, “What makes you think the guy is here anyway. Or that he would come with us?”

  “What guy?”

  “What?” McCormick wrinkled his brow, bemused.

  “You said, ‘the guy.’ How do you know there’s a guy here?”

  McCormick cocked his head and glared. “Really? Look at the size of that truck.” He pointed to the pickup rising above the Mazda, the bottom of the passenger door nearly as tall as the Mazda’s roof. “I don’t mean to come across as sexist, but that truck belongs to a man.”
<
br />   The inference about the truck was sound, but if it were Danielle inquiring, she wouldn’t have asked about ‘the guy.’ She would have asked about ‘the people;’ that seemed the more natural phrasing. Her antennae vibrated just a bit more.

  But she didn’t continue with the line of questioning; if McCormick was lying and knew more than he was saying, and then Danielle boxed him into a corner with her interrogation, she wasn’t in the perfect position to fend him off.

  She turned to the back and grabbed the shotgun off the seat, and as she did, McCormick reached for the rifle resting beside it.

  Danielle snatched the shotgun up like a gunfighter and held it on the soldier, leaning back against the door as she did, her eyes wide and taunting. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she asked breathlessly.

  McCormick stared at Danielle for a few seconds and then, slowly, he tilted his head back and put his hands toward the roof. He then shook his head slowly, exasperated.

  “You still don’t trust me?” he asked. “Are you kidding? If I’d wanted to kill you, I could have shot you the second you walked through the bar entrance. Christ, lady, you’re going to have to give me a break.”

  Kill a Soldier. She hadn’t done it yet, but that goal was still on the table.

  “The rifle stays here. You don’t need it. Just stay near me and you’ll be fine. No need to go in like the Marines. I know this house. I know who’s inside.”

  Danielle was careful not to reveal too much more, but she saw a flicker again in McCormick’s eyes, one she couldn’t quite decipher. Might just be bad instincts again, she realized, but she catalogued the look just the same.

  Danielle waited for McCormick to exit the passenger side of the Mazda first, and once he did, she followed, keeping her distance from the soldier as she directed him to the side of the building and around to the back.

  “Why are you going down here? Why not through the front?”

  Danielle ignored the questions, and when they reached the back gate, Danielle opened it from the inside and then stepped into the yard. She held the shotgun high in the air with her right hand, a demonstration that she was coming in peace. She thought back on Scott Jenkins’ temperament when she’d left him last—not exactly the model of stability—and considered the possibility that, by now, he had lost it entirely.