The Snow: A Supernatural Apocalypse Novel Page 3

Ed’s lake house had a deck coming off the back of it, so long that it almost hung over the water. It wasn’t exactly good for crutching, either, but that was okay. I just helped Stone back up the bank, which wasn’t as steep as the one by our lake house. At the crest, Stone crutched his way to the few steps leading to the deck. He looked over his shoulder at me with a slight grimace on his face.

  “All good?” I asked.

  “I got it, I got it,” Stone replied.

  He walked over to the table in the middle of the deck, rubber stoppers trundling over the smooth wooden boards. It didn’t look easy. Few seconds later, he sat next to an empty seat I’d eventually take and grabbed and popped open another beer.

  I followed suit. I guess I was a thirsty man that night.

  As I sipped on the beer, I saw that the party down the shore, the one with the young crowd, had mellowed. They were no longer playing music from wireless speakers or their iPhones or whatever, and the laughing slowed, though when they did laugh, we heard it loud and clear from Ed’s deck.

  I saw thin silhouettes huddled around a low burning campfire. Someone rang out all the wrong chords to a John Mayer song I could barely identify. One thing didn’t change with the years, I guess. No matter the era, there was always that guy who took it upon himself to bless (or curse) his friends and acquaintances with an acoustic guitar, usually out of tune and played the wrong way. But hey, I guess that was part of being young.

  Jonas plopped down across from me. The light carrying out from the inside of Ed’s lake house caught his eyes. They were bloodshot and watery. He held a full beer in his hand, and I made a mental note to cut him off after that one.

  I forgot, but only because things have a way of slipping from your mind when you’re having a good time. Can’t blame me for that. We were certainly having a good time, and I needed it more than ever at that moment. Suicide, though I can’t say for sure I would’ve resorted to that, was a word constantly kicking around in my head. I don’t know if there’s an afterlife, or a Jesus or a God—I’d like to think there is—but logically, I can’t bring myself to really believe that. Logically, I think there’s nothing. I think our hearts stop beating and everything goes dark. And it was that concept of darkness, of nothingness, that spoke so strongly to me. I wouldn’t have to worry about any bad thoughts. I wouldn’t have to struggle to get out of bed every morning. I wouldn’t have to worry about money or health or relationships. I wouldn’t have to worry at all.

  The sliding door to my left opened. A puff of air-conditioned air followed the four people that stepped onto the deck. I recognized two of them: Ed and his son, Mikey. The other two were strangers. Both women. One was closer to Ed’s age, and even a tipsy-going-on-drunk me could figure she was his wife. She was tall and thin. Her hair was the thickest part about her, a dark brown as smooth as silk. The young woman behind her had the same type of hair, but it was auburn. Quite possibly the prettiest color I’d ever seen, attached to quite possibly the prettiest girl I’d ever seen.

  Stone leaned over and whispered, “Might wanna close your mouth, brother, before a mosquito flies in there and lays eggs or something bad. Malaria ain’t no joke.”

  His voice snapped me out of whatever spell I had fallen under. With a jolt, I clamped my jaw shut and smiled, hoping I didn’t look too much like a serial killer, though it certainly probably seemed that way. She barely gave me a glance. That wasn’t exactly something new, but I couldn’t blame her. If I came out to a bunch of drunk strangers sitting on my back deck, smiling at me like I was a piece of meat, I’d avoid any and all eye contact, too.

  Ed set a couple of boxes of Honey Maid graham crackers down. One of them wobbled and leaned against the umbrella pole sticking out of a hole in the middle of the table. “Get that fire going, son, will ya?”

  “Yeah, Pop.” Mikey grabbed a box of long matches and a few logs stacked in one corner of the deck. His face was beaming with anticipation. That look in the kid’s eyes was the same one that started hundreds of fires throughout the year. This thought inevitably led to the apartment building boy, but for the first time in weeks, I pushed it away and focused on the moment.

  Progress.

  “Angie, these here are our current neighbors,” Ed said, waving our way. I stood up and shook Angie’s hand. Jonas and Stone did the same.

  “It’s so nice to meet y'all,” Angie said in a slight southern accent that reminded me of the movie Gone With the Wind, a VHS tape my grandma and I watched so much when I was a boy that the film deteriorated. She passed a long time ago, but we spent a lot of time together. She told me a million stories about my mom and showed me a billion baby and grade-school era photos. But I digress again.

  “And this here’s my daughter,” Ed said. “Eleanor.”

  Eleanor stepped forward and shook my hand, then did the same with the other Musketeers.

  “She’s in her last year of nursing school,” Ed said. He put an arm around her and kissed the top of her head. “Makin' her daddy so proud!”

  “Dad, come on!”

  “Aw, you ain’t ever too old to give your pops a hug.”

  Eleanor kept quiet, but judging by the look on her face, she thought that ship had sailed a long time ago.

  On the other end of the deck—like I said, it was a big one—was a circle of high-back chairs. In the middle of this circle was the fire pit. Mikey lit one of the stove matches and a spout of flames erupted from the pit, bathing us all in much-needed heat. With the new light, I saw how Eleanor was more beautiful than I’d first thought. It was hard not to stare at her.

  She noticed, too, because she set her gaze on me. Normally, when the person you’re staring at catches you staring at them, you’re supposed to quickly look away or hold your wrist up and act like you’re checking the time. Well, I wasn’t wearing a watch, and I didn’t look away. Our eyes met for half a heartbeat before she smiled and brushed a lock of hair behind one ear. I can’t say it was love at first sight for her, but I’ll be damned if it wasn’t for me.

  We gathered around a fire for the second time that night. We made s’mores. We laughed and we enjoyed ourselves. Once the Harks and us got comfortable and the conversation got rolling, I never once thought of the dead boy or how I had failed to save him. I didn’t hear his screams, I didn’t hear the crash of the ceiling falling all around us. I felt nothing.

  I was just living in the moment.

  Ed drank another beer with us, but this time he didn’t crack it open and down it like a frat boy; he sipped like a gentleman. His wife and daughter opted for wine coolers, to which Stone so wittily said, “You got any more? Grady loves ‘em.”

  I whispered, “You’re lucky there’s women and children present, Stone.”

  He winked.

  Eleanor said, “There’s nothing wrong with a guy liking wine coolers. When you don’t care about what others think of you, when you’re confident—well, that’s attractive.” She was looking at Stone as she said it, but her gaze wandered my way. I felt my cheeks burning, glad the fire painted all our faces a reddish-orange.

  “No, there ain’t nothin' wrong with that,” Ed agreed, “but the fact of the matter is that fruity crap don’t do much of anything for us.” He was smiling. “Ain’t that right, Grady?”

  I nodded halfheartedly, mainly because I wasn’t really paying attention. I was replaying that smile Eleanor flashed my way. I knew I could never get sick of that smile. I knew that if I had the worst day humanly possible, I could come home and see that smile and all would be right in the world again.

  “Exactly,” Ed said. He leaned forward. There was a smudge of chocolate in one corner of his mouth. “You look like a whiskey man to me, Grady. Yeah?”

  “I do like my whiskey,” I agreed.

  “How ‘bout we break out the good stuff?” He cast a hesitant eye to his wife. “I mean, in honor of the Fourth and all, I think we got to.”

  Angie shrugged. “I’m not the boss of you, Ed. You do what you want.”

>   He put an arm around her and kissed one upturned cheek. Angie’s smile was just as pretty as Eleanor’s.

  “She says that,” Ed said, “but she knows she wears the pants in the family.”

  “I’d say,” Mikey mumbled.

  “There ya go, Mike.” Ed pointed. “You understand that early on and any relationship you have’ll be smooth sailing.” He scooted his chair back and rose. “C’mon, Grady, I’ll show you the good whiskey. Wash that taste of Wild Turkey outta your mouth.”

  As much as I wanted to stay by the fire—and its warmth—the temperature had dropped lower in just the half-hour or so we’d been sitting on the deck. But I knew my manners, so I got up.

  “I’ll come, too,” Stone said. “I never pass up the chance for free booze.”

  Ed laughed. “I like you fellas.” He nodded at Jonas. “How ‘bout you, J? You want in on this? Can I mark ya down for a glass?”

  Jonas shook his head and waved his arms. “Better not. I think I’m whiskey’d out for the night. Any more and I’ll be spending the Fourth on the bathroom floor, hugging the toilet. Just can’t knock them down like I used to.”

  “Aw, you sure?”

  “Yep, thanks, though. Maybe next year.”

  “All right. More for us then, huh, boys?” Ed led the way into the lake house. The inside smelled of roses. It came from a bouquet on a kitchen counter. I was studying them as we walked past. “Yeah, got those for the ol’ ball and chain. We just had our twenty-eighth anniversary a couple days ago! Whew, does time fly.”

  “Very sweet,” Stone said. He was talking with a bit of a slur. I didn’t know if more booze was in his, or even my, best interests—but hey, it was almost the Fourth of July. And though we didn’t know it then, this was probably the last time we’d get to celebrate anything.

  “Whoa,” Stone said suddenly. I looked behind me, saw he wasn’t there. He had wandered off to a different room. A den with a grand fireplace. The faint smell of smoke drifted out from inside. I guessed this was Ed’s man cave. “What’s this?” Stone asked. His head was craned up at something above the mantle.

  Ed wasn’t in the room; he was pouring a couple glasses of whiskey at a bar in the den. Good stuff, like he said. I could tell just from the decanter it was in. I swear it was made out of diamonds, it sparkled so bright. Now he came our way and handed the drink to me. I followed.

  What Stone was looking at was a rifle. I don’t know much about guns, but it seemed like the kind of rifle you wouldn’t hunt deer with. More like elephants…or Godzilla.

  Ed took a drink. There was a gleam of pride in his eyes. “That, my friend, is the gun my own pops gave me years ago. Bagged my first buck with it. It’s now officially been retired to my personal hall of fame. Ain’t it a beaut?”

  “It is,” Stone said. “You still hunt?”

  “Oh yeah,” Ed said, “whenever I get the chance. Been tryin' to get Mikey to come out with me, but”—he shook his head and took another drink—“this generation of kids have all gone soft. I hate to sound like an old geezer, but goddamn, what the hell’s with all these veggie burgers and selfies? I ain’t ever gonna understand it.”

  “Amen, brother,” Stone said. “I like to think I’m somewhat hip, but when it comes to all the Snapchats and Tik Toks and Instagram stuff, I’m clueless. First of all, why the hell would someone care about what you’re eating for dinner? And, unless you’re a chef, why would you take a picture of it in the first place?”

  “Yup. Food’s meant to be eaten, last I checked,” Ed said. “Cheers to that.” He held up his glass. We toasted and drank. The whiskey went down smoothly, tasted good. Like money.

  “Took me too long to master Facebook,” Stone said. “Now I gotta learn all this other crap? No, thank you.”

  “Just the other day,” I said, “I was at the grocery store and some teenagers ran into my cart. You know what one of them said to me?”

  Stone shook his head. Ed waited.

  “He said, ’Sorry, sir.’ Sir. He called me sir. I couldn’t believe my ears. Am I so old now that I’m a ‘sir?’”

  Ed laughed as he sat on the fireplace. “Wait till you get to be my age, then you’ll get the more than occasional ‘Watch out, Grandpa.’” He took another drink, gritted his teeth. “Those damn kids better stay off my lawn.”

  We all laughed.

  Then, after we settled, Ed stood and brushed the barrel of the mounted rifle. “She was a good gun,” he said, “but far from my best. I got a whole mess of ‘em in a cabinet down in the basement. Used to lock it when the kids were just tykes, but never do now. You know why? ‘Cause I’m hoping Mikey’ll take it upon himself to pick one up and ask me to go huntin’ with him. Sad, ain’t it? Y’all wanna see?”

  I was about to say yes when the glass door slid open and Angie’s voice drifted in. “Eddy, can you grab me a jacket from upstairs? It’s getting chilly out here.”

  “Sure thing, hon!” Ed arched an eyebrow. “Raincheck, fellas. Duty calls, you know how it is. I’ll meet you out there.”

  So we went back outside. Eleanor caught my eye and said, “Showed you his guns, didn’t he?”

  I chuckled. “Almost.”

  “Count yourselves lucky,” Angie added. “First it’s the guns, then it’s the trophies and ribbons from his competitions, and he’s got enough to keep you busy for hours. Next thing you know, he’s signed you up as his partner for a shooting tournament.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad,” Stone said. “Never shot anything more than an air-soft rifle before, but I’ve always fancied myself a gunslinger.”

  “‘Fancied’ being the operative word here,” Jonas added. He was playing cards with Mikey. War, a fitting game for a former soldier like himself.

  “It doesn’t sound so bad,” Mikey added, “until he’s making you get up at a quarter of five in the morning for practice.”

  “And when Ed sets his mind on something,” Angie said, “he doesn’t let up, God bless him.”

  “Okay, I guess it sounds a little bad,” Stone agreed.

  Ed came back out holding a couple of jackets. He gave one to Angie and the other to Eleanor. It was more than chilly out; it was downright cold. I wished I had a jacket myself. Even around the flames, my skin broke out in occasional goosebumps. I didn’t check the temperature. No thermometers around, and my phone was back at our lake house. Service was spotty at best out here anyway, but I’d guess it was in the low sixties at the time and falling.

  “Were y’all talkin ‘bout me?” Ed said, looking at us with narrowed eyes.

  “Yes, but only about how you’re the greatest husband and father in the world,” Angie said in her fakest sweet voice.

  “Yeah, yeah, honey, flattery’ll get you everywhere,” Ed said. “Keep it up and you might get lucky tonight, doll.”

  “Blahhhhh,” Eleanor said, covering her face and leaning away from the table.

  “Yuck! Dad, c’mon, you’re gonna make me barf!” Mikey added.

  It was a bit after midnight when we headed back to our lake house. The wind wasn’t quite howling at that point, but it was blowing hard.

  “Nice people,” Stone said.

  “Very nice,” I agreed.

  Jonas, very toasted, said, “Hot daughter, too.” Stone and I stopped halfway up the walk to the porch and gave him a sidelong look. “What?” he went on. "We were all thinking it.”

  “Yeah, but you’re married,” Stone said.

  “Hey, I was just pointing out the obvious. I’m no cheater. Besides, even if I was, I’m pretty sure Grady’s already got dibs on her.”

  “No, no—” I began.

  “True,” Stone said. “Don’t even deny it, man. You were practically drooling.”

  “I was?”

  If that was the case, then that was bad. I tried hiding my obvious attraction to Eleanor, but the booze must’ve once again gotten the best of me. Or maybe I’m just bad at that stuff.

  “No, man, we’re fucking with you,” Jona
s said. “But hey, I say go for it. Why not? You never know what could happen.”

  Jonas was right. You really never knew what could happen.

  But what happened was far from anything any of us could fathom.

  I went to my room and laid down, not even bothering to change out of my clothes. Exhaustion hit me pretty hard, but I resisted. Usually, when my head hit the pillow and the darkness took over the room, my mind wandered to the apartment building and the dead boy.

  That night, it did not.

  Instead, I was replaying all the good times we’d had already. It was going to be a great weekend.

  Not long after, I fell asleep. There were no nightmares, no dreams at all that I can remember. I was grateful for that. Had Stone not woken me up a couple of hours later, it may have been the best sleep I’d gotten in a long while.

  But as I was sleeping soundlessly, the wind howled and the first snowstorm began to fall.

  2

  The Storm

  Like I said, it wasn’t the wind that woke me up. If I’d gone to sleep sober, maybe it probably would’ve been. It sounded like jet engines right outside of my window.

  I was dead asleep when my bedroom door opened and Stone shook me. “Grady! Grady! Dude, wake up!”

  I moaned and waved him away, now half-awake. Stone sat in his chair on the right side of my bed. A ghostly white light lit up his face. It took me a moment to realize it came from his cell phone.

  I blinked.

  The clock on my nightstand read 2:19 a.m., but it felt like it was much later, like I had slept for hours.

  “What?” I said, my voice hoarse.

  “Dude, you gotta go look outside.”

  “Why?” I rolled over and propped myself up on my elbow. “It’s the middle of the night. I’m too old to be up this late.” My hand went to my brow and rubbed. I was only dimly aware of how cold my fingers felt. “And I’m already starting to get a hangover.” I reminded myself to never drink again.