The Snow: A Supernatural Apocalypse Novel Page 4

“Forget all that,” Stone said. He sounded like he’d accidentally caught a glimpse of Bigfoot and was wanting to share his glorious discovery.

  “What is it, man? And why is the air conditioning so high? It’s freezing in here.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Stone said. “It’s Christmas outside.”

  I ran a hand through my hair and shook my head, mostly to get my bearings back. “Christmas? Stone, it’s July 4th. How much of that good whiskey did you have at Ed’s?” The previous evening’s escapades hung fresh in my mind, but I almost couldn’t believe it. It was as if an entirely different Grady had been there, not the one of the last two months.

  “Just look out the window.”

  “Are you sleepwalking?” I asked.

  He stopped and turned around. “Yeah, I got up, put on my crutches, grabbed my cell phone, and wobbled in here, all while unconscious.”

  “Fair point.”

  “Sarcasm, if you didn’t catch that. I’m gonna go wake up Jonas. He’s gotta see this, too. Meanwhile, go look out the window.”

  “Be careful,” I said. “Jonas never saw action, but he’ll come at you like he’s having a ‘Nam flashback.”

  Stone frowned, and like it was planned, he said, “‘Nam isn’t a joke, Grady. It was a tough time for all of us.”

  Even though it was the middle of the night and Stone was apparently hopped up about something, Christmas in July or whatever, it didn’t stop him from remembering one of our many inside jokes. This one I did find funny, no matter how dumb it may be. We were obviously too young to know much of anything about the Vietnam War besides what we learned in school and saw on the History Channel—which wasn’t much—but, and I don’t know why, we always had a good laugh whenever one of us said something like: “I haven’t been there (or seen or heard this) since ‘Nam,” to which someone else would reply: “Vietnam isn’t a joke. It was a tough time for all of us.”

  Like I said, it’s stupid, I know. But then again, what inside jokes aren’t to an outsider?

  Stone walked out of the room, shaking his head.

  I rose and planted my feet on the floor. Without socks, it felt like I was stepping barefoot onto an ice rink. Talk about a wake-up call. The temperature of the room really hit me then. My flesh broke out in goosebumps. The hair at the back of my neck and along my arms stood at attention, almost to the point of being painful. I grabbed the comforter and wrapped it around my shoulders.

  Something was off. Not in an intriguing way or anything like that, but off in the way I always imagined stepping foot into a real haunted house would feel. Of course, like I said earlier, I didn’t believe in any of that stuff then. It was all fiction, reserved for low-budget movies and cheap paperback books.

  The wind howled. A gust hit the house like a truck, rattling the glass in the windowpanes and making me think the roof might blow off. I thought of The Wizard of Oz and that great tornado that swept Dorothy off to the land of make-believe. The problem was this wasn’t make-believe.

  Another gust followed, and icy air drifted through cracks in the lake house’s walls. So bitterly cold.

  I don’t know how, but I had this feeling it was already really bad and only getting worse.

  “Holy shit!” Jonas shouted from his room down the hall. “No way this is real!”

  “It’s Christmas! I told you!” Stone said.

  “Grady!” Jonas’s footsteps thundered toward my bedroom. I was still sitting on the edge of the bed, my feet frozen to the floor, almost literally. When Jonas came in, he had the bewildered look of a man who’d just seen something completely impossible, and that bad feeling in the pit of my stomach sunk its claws in a little deeper. “Are you seeing this, dude?”

  “I—” I began, but Jonas, the meathead he is, grabbed my shoulders and yanked me from the mattress up to my numbing feet. As much as I didn’t want to see what this was, I had no say in the matter. Jonas dragged me to the window on the far wall, and with each advancing step, the temperature dropped another five degrees. Maybe I’m exaggerating a bit, but it was cold.

  Jonas swatted the curtains away. I stepped back, my eyes wide. I couldn’t see much, mostly because frost covered the glass, but even without seeing beyond, I knew what it was.

  “This is insane,” Jonas said. He scraped some of the frost away with the palm of his hand. His skin squeaked against the window. I saw clear as day. The moon was a cold crescent still shining its light on the world below, and in that light, there were ever-growing drifts of snow. It must’ve been six inches already; if the fat flakes whirling down were any indication, the storm wasn’t stopping soon.

  I couldn’t speak. My throat felt as frozen as the outside, so I nodded instead.

  “Have you checked the weather app or Facebook or anything like that?” Jonas asked Stone, who wasn’t looking out of the window but was swiping on his phone.

  “Yeah. There’s a few posts about it, but mostly I think everyone’s sleeping right through this.”

  “Their loss,” Jonas said. “I gotta snap some pictures. This is probably some Ohio record. I bet it’s never snowed in July.”

  “Not this much,” Stone said absently. His eyes were glued to his screen, then his eyebrows rose. “Holy shit! Look at this!” He turned the phone around. Here was a good-looking woman dressed in short-shorts and a tank top. She was standing in about an inch or two of snow.

  Neither Jonas or me said anything.

  “She’s from South Carolina, not too far from Myrtle Beach,” Stone said. “It’s hot as hell down there in the summer.”

  That bad feeling in my stomach turned into a physical pain. I grabbed my side and squeezed. Part of me thought I was still dreaming. That any second now, the images in my sleeping brain would change to flames and I’d hear the dead boy’s screams again, because those were the usual dreams. The worst thing, though, is part of me wished for that.

  “No way. South Carolina snow in the summer? On the beach?” Jonas said. “What the hell’s going on? Did some country drop a nuke on us, and now the mushroom cloud is messing with the weather or something?” He started pacing, the excitement deflating from his body language like air from a balloon.

  “I don’t think that’s how it works,” Stone said. He shook his head. “Whatever. I don’t know. Beside the point.”

  “See if there’s snow in Hawaii or Florida,” Jonas said.

  I turned back toward the window. The frostless part was already fogging over, but I could see clear enough.

  That was when something moved out there. I can’t say what because I’m not completely sure. It could’ve been a deer or a coyote—and most likely that was the case—but knowing what I know now, I don’t think it was.

  It moved too fast, whatever it was, and jerky, like a glitching video. I leaned in closer, cupped my hands around the glass, and peered out. Whatever I saw was gone.

  Or hiding.

  Behind me, Stone and Jonas were arguing about how a nuke might trip up the weather systems in the United States. I wasn’t listening, but I had a feeling they were both wrong.

  “Well, shit,” Stone said, and that caught my attention.

  I turned and said, “What?” My chest grew heavier, like I was wearing a weighted vest, and I found it hard to say even a one-syllable word.

  “The wifi crapped out on me,” he answered. “And I’m not getting any service out here.”

  The house had become noticeably quieter. I strained my ears for…I don’t know, something, but whatever was missing wasn’t hitting me.

  “That’s normal. The wifi’s shit anyway,” Jonas added. “Couldn’t even stream Netflix earlier. I can’t fall asleep without my Netflix, guys.”

  I suddenly realized what I wasn’t hearing.

  My room was about five steps from the kitchen, and it shared a wall with the same wall the refrigerator was pressed up against. Like most of the lake house, it was a relic of a long ago time. One of those fridges without a water dispenser or an ice ma
ker. Loud as hell, too. Its constant thrumming vibrated the shared wall. I didn’t mind it. I liked the white noise come bedtime.

  But now I heard nothing. The refrigerator was off.

  I pointed toward the switch behind Stone, near the door. “Flip on the light, Stone.”

  “Huh?”

  “The light, man.”

  His brow wrinkled, but he crutched back and reached for the switch. Flicked it. Just as I thought, nothing happened.

  “Bulb burn out?” Jonas asked.

  I shook my head. “Power outage.”

  Now both Stone and Jonas looked a little more than concerned for the first time that night.

  “We better get a fire going,” I said. “Or we’re going to freeze.”

  So that was what we did.

  Since sleep wasn’t going to happen in our bedrooms without heat, we set up shop in the den, as close to the fireplace as possible, like we were boys having a slumber party. I don’t think we could’ve slept anyway.

  Jonas opened the front door to help clear some of the initial smoke hanging around the room, and as soon as he did, a blast of icy wind sliced inside.

  “Shit, man, close it!” Stone shouted. He was currently wrapped up in both his own comforter and a faux bear rug he found in one of the closets. The latter smelled strongly of dust.

  Jonas closed the door, but only after he stepped onto the porch.

  “That man is crazy,” Stone said, shaking his head, but I saw the curiosity in his eyes. Then his hands snaked out from beneath the blankets and gripped his crutches.

  “I wouldn’t, man,” I said. The sound of my voice pretty much gave me away. I was curious, too, convinced this was all some sort of vivid hallucination and needing proof otherwise.

  “What, man? It’s just snow,” Stone said. “We’ve seen our fair share of it, and we know it can’t hurt us.” He limped toward the door, stopped at the threshold.

  “But we’ve never seen snow in July. It just seems—”

  “Wrong, I know,” Stone finished.

  But that wasn’t the word I was thinking of. That word was actually sinister.

  Stone didn’t listen to me. He went outside with Jonas, leaving me alone next to the roaring fireplace. The dead boy was the furthest thing from my mind then, and I guess I was somewhat subconsciously aware of that. The snow had become a blessed distraction.

  I wanted to keep this distraction going, too. I wanted to keep burying the nightmarish images in my head for as long as possible. So I did what anyone in my unique situation would’ve done. I guess it was the same thing millions all over were probably doing.

  I went outside with my friends. Into the summer snow.

  Pushing the storm door proved difficult because the snow was already piled pretty high on the porch, even with the awning covering most of it. The wind blew it in all directions; nowhere was safe. As soon as the first flake landed on my skin, melting nearly as fast as the one on my windshield all those hours ago had, I knew it was real.

  Still, I stepped out from under the porch, Stone’s crutches crunching as he followed me. I was wearing a pair of tennis shoes without socks. Hardly the type of footwear for a blizzard.

  “Yep,” Stone said. “It’s real.”

  “No shit!” Jonas shouted. Unlike us, he’d gone right into the dunes like an overzealous puppy. He threw a couple of snowballs our way. One hit me in the shoulder; the other banged off the den’s window.

  “Hey!” I said. “Not cool, Jonas! I’m already freezing here!”

  “Oh, lighten up, Grady. Have some fun for once!” Jonas threw another, but this time I dodged it. Suddenly, the snow didn’t seem so sinister anymore. I mean, not on a surface level. The wrongness of it hovered in the back of my mind, but very far in the back, where the apartment fire and the dead boy were, waiting for the distraction to end.

  I felt them there, and I felt the little diversion fleeting, so I scooped up some snow and hit Jonas.

  “Real mature, guys,” Stone said as he watched this battle ensue.

  Jonas spun around the back of my car and lobbed one that landed inches from my feet.

  As soon as he stuck his head out, I beamed him.

  “The world is ending,” Stone continued, “and you two are having a—”

  Just then a snowball glanced off the side of Stone’s head, dusting him in white. Underneath the porch awning, we were shielded from the worst of it coming down from the skies, but now his entire left shoulder and side of his face was covered.

  Jonas had come out from behind the car. I was standing on the edge of the porch, shivering, grinning stupidly, and watching Stone’s reaction.

  “Oh, okay,” Stone said, looking down at his shoulder at the melting flakes, “I see how it is. If that’s how you want to play it, then let’s go.” He ditched his crutches, dropped to his knees, and began rapidly gathering snow.

  “Game on!” Jonas shouted, and I whooped with joy.

  And that was how three men in their late twenties began a snowball fight in the middle of an Ohio summer.

  After the fight, which left us out of breath and covered in melting snow, we tried going back to sleep. The novelty of the odd winter storm had begun wearing off, becoming only just another few inches of snow on the ground in Ohio. Crazy to say that? Maybe.

  I couldn’t go back to sleep anyway because the wind continued its howling. The lake house was old, not like Ed’s down the way, and had only been renovated on the outside years ago. The owners, knowing they’d probably never rent the place out in the winter months, must not have cared about insulation because the cold air was sneaking inside through many unseen cracks.

  The power hadn’t come back on, either, so all we had was the fire. I laid down and closed my eyes, teeth chattering, my skin craving the heat of the flames like a drowning man craves air. I must’ve laid there for a half an hour just listening to the wind pummel the lake house before Jonas’s snoring started. I can’t say for sure how he slept so heavily, but I do believe the whiskey played a large part.

  “You up?” I whispered to Stone. He was stretched out on the couch, piled high in blankets.

  “How could I sleep with Jonas sounding like a lawnmower in labor?” Stone answered in a not-so-soft whisper that made Jonas stir on his section of the floor.

  I sat up. “Good point.”

  “Even without that, I’d still be awake. Can’t stop messing with my phone. Sometimes the signal in the corner will show 3G, but as soon as I try opening Safari, it gives me a big old X. It’s bullshit, man. What’d I pay all this money for if my smartphone acts as dumb as me?”

  I laughed. Had we gotten service or power for the wifi, we would’ve known these storms weren’t just happening in Ohio and South Carolina. They were happening all over the world. Places that hadn’t seen snow since the last ice age were now covered white; and the places that were exceptionally snowy year-round were now buried, which was quickly happening to us on Lake Prism.

  The fire’s strength dwindled. I stood, grabbed a couple of logs, and threw them in. They caught soon after, bathing me in warmth. The den wasn’t much, not when you compared it to Ed’s, but I liked it. It reminded me of those warm summer nights staying up with Stone and Jonas, talking about girls and sports and video games.

  I sat on the bricks and lowered the blanket into my lap, letting the heat roast my back. Stone was looking up above the mantle, where a big moose head had been mounted since long before we ever set foot in this place. His dad said the moose head was here first, the owners just built the lake house around it.

  I think it was then, sitting there, listening to the storm outside, that I accepted the fact I’d not sleep for the rest of the night. Not with the wind and the cold and the oddness of our situation.

  Stone looked down at his phone, swiped and tapped a few times with no luck, judging by the annoyed look on his face. “This sucks. I need my phone, dude.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, “power’ll be back on soon.�
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  I was wrong. To this day, the grid remains down. Some are lucky enough to have backup generators, but those’ll eventually die out, too.

  “Your phone having any luck?” Stone asked me.

  I shook my head. “Been dead a little after we got back from Ed’s. Never got around to plugging it in. It’s like an iPhone 5 or something. The battery holds a charge for about an hour, and that’s only if I’m not doing anything on it. Thirty minutes, forty-five if I’m lucky, when I am using it.”

  Stone pinched the bridge of his nose. “And Jonas has a fucking flip phone. Yikes, you guys really need to get with the program. It’s like you’re already on your way to a nursing home.” He laughed. “And you thought those kids calling you ‘sir’ was bad.”

  “I think I’ve accepted that. I like simple things. Books, TV with only a few stations, nice walks in the park.”

  “You’re lame, Grady, but I love you,” Stone said with a grin. “I think you’ve been a lost cause since you came to school in a pair of cutoff jean shorts that one field day in eighth grade. Remember that?”

  “It was one time. Why do you keep reminding me?”

  Stone shrugged. “Eh, ‘cause it’s funny.”

  A few seconds later, a gust of wind crashed into the house hard enough for me to think the windows might shatter. They held together. Somehow.

  Stone shot up to a sitting position on the couch, cringing.

  Another, smaller gust followed. It sounded like a hundred animals were dying out there.

  “This really is insane, man,” Stone said. “Batshit insane.”

  “Yeah. We did have a snowball fight on the Fourth of July,” I replied.

  I don’t think any of us really knew how crazy it was. Some things the mind just can’t comprehend. The summer snow was only the beginning of a long list of things we’d never truly understand.

  Stone dabbed at his brow with his blankets. “I think I’m actually getting a little toasty now.”

  Joke or not, it was the last time anyone I knew ever said that.

  Then things went quiet again as we sat there soaking up as much heat as we could, both of us deep in thought. I was staring into the flames but not seeing them. The distraction was over, I guess, because although I wasn’t seeing our fire, I saw a different one.