The woman with the rifle said nothing. She went around peering through all the windows, then headed to the back of the store where she proceeded to load another round into the rifle.
Todd stood shivering in one darkened corner, his eyes volleying from the corpse out in the street to Fred and Nan and, finally, to Kate. Kate was sitting on the floor between two overturned racks of canned food and potato chip bags, her legs drawn up against her chest, her whole body vibrating from the cold. She was staring at the body that lay sprawled over a fallen crate of soda—the body Todd had glimpsed while shining the flashlight into the store moments earlier. Two dead bodies: one out in the street, one in here with them.
Todd frowned. “You gonna answer me or just hold us hostage?”
The woman looked up at him. “You wanna go out there again, be my guest.”
“What about the power? The electricity?”
“Dead.”
“And the telephones?”
The woman leveled her gaze at him, clearly showing her displeasure in answering such mundane questions. “Dead. One of those things must have cut the lines.”
Todd caught a look from Kate. Her skin looked nearly translucent in the moonlight issuing through the store windows.
“Who’s this guy?” he said, acknowledging the body bent over the crate of soda.
“Jared.”
“Can we cover him up with something?”
“There’s some trash bags on one of the shelves,” said the woman.
Rubbing his hands together for warmth, Todd walked down the aisles until he found a box of trash bags. He tore into the box and pulled out a number of bags, then carried them over to where the body lay in one corner. Its head was split open like a ripe melon, the innards frozen and nearly sparkling. Todd draped the body in the plastic garbage bags, trying to not look at it too closely.
“Thank you,” Todd said after he’d finished.
The woman shrugged. “Not my trash bags.”
“I meant about what happened out in the street. I guess you saved our asses.”
The woman set the rifle down on the counter…then, looking over the rest of them, must have thought better of it and picked it back up again. She went around to the rear of the counter and produced a case of bottled water. She heaved it up onto the countertop. “This water’s fresh. If you’re thirsty.”
“Christ, yes,” Kate said, getting up. She looked to Fred and Nan, both of whom nodded, and she approached the counter. It was obvious she was keeping her distance from the woman with the gun.
“Eat whatever you want, too,” said the woman.
Kate screamed and staggered backward, her hands over her mouth. She was looking down at something on the floor. Todd couldn’t see it; the rows of junk food blocked his view.
“What is it?” Fred asked, his voice hard.
“Another one,” Kate practically groaned. “There’s…there’s blood all over the floor.”
Todd stepped into the aisle to see a second corpse—this one much more mangled than poor Jared, whom he’d just covered up with trash bags—strewn like roadside garbage against one wall. It was nearly impossible to discern any sense of humanity from the black, glistening heap. A dark smear of blood trailed behind it like the tail of a comet.
“Jesus,” Todd breathed.
“That’s Mr. Farmer,” said the woman with the rifle. “He used to own this place.”
Kate looked up at her. “Did you kill him, too?”
“He wasn’t Mr. Farmer when I killed him.”
“What’s your name?” Todd asked, pulling fresh plastic bags from the box. He moved closer to the glistening heap on the tile floor. Glancing down, he could see where the blood was beginning to congeal and where ice crystals had started forming along the sections of exposed white flesh.
“Shawna Dupree.”
“You from around here, Shawna?”
“Spent my whole life in Woodson.” Then, as if it were a humorous observation, she added, “Might die here in Woodson, too, you know.”
“What’s going on?” Fred asked from across the room, as Kate, all too anxious to get away from Shawna and the mangled corpse on the floor, brought him and Nan bottles of water.
“It started earlier this week,” Shawna said. “They came in with the snow.” She seemed to consider this, then added, “They are the snow.”
“Who came in with the snow?” Todd asked, draping plastic bags over the thing that had once been the proprietor of this little convenience store. “What was wrong with that guy out there in the street? He looked about ready to kill us.”
“He was,” said Shawna.
“Why?”
“Because he wasn’t himself,” she said. “He was one of those things.”
“What things?” said Kate.
“Whatever came out of him when I shot him,” Shawna said. “Didn’t you see it?”
“What was it?” Todd pressed.
Shawna Dupree took them all in, as if deciding what to do with them. Finally, she propped the rifle over one shoulder and headed around the counter. “I have to pee. I suggest you all keep that door locked.”
When she was gone, Nan sighed and looked down at her hands. She said something to her husband about their daughter Rebecca.
“Here.” Kate handed Todd a bottle of water, once he’d finished covering up the second body.
“I guess we’re lucky it’s so cold in here,” he said. “Otherwise these two would be stinking to high heaven.”
Kate grimaced.
“Sorry,” he said, popping open the bottle of water.
“Your leg’s still bleeding. Let me see.”
“It’s fine.”
“Let me see.”
“Fuck.” He hunkered down, his back against a freezer door. He tried to roll up his pant leg but it would only go so high before it caused him too much pain. “I can’t.”
“Take your pants off.”
“Miss Jansen, you’re engaged.”
“Ha. Very funny. I’m being serious.”
“Just let it be. It’s not that big a deal.”
Fred appeared over Kate’s shoulder. “Let me have a look.”
Todd managed a pained smile. “You gonna put me out of my misery?”
“You should be so lucky,” Fred said, bending to his knees with some difficulty. Todd noted that maybe the old guy wasn’t in as good a shape as he’d initially thought. “I can cut the pant leg or you can take them off. It’s up to you.”
“Christ. You two should buy me dinner first.” He unbuttoned his pants and managed to worm his way out of them, until they were bunched up at his ankles. He didn’t bother looking down at the wound.
“Not so bad,” Fred said, leaning over him. “How’d you do it?”
“Chasing that son of a bitch Eddie through the woods. I think a tree limb came out and took a bite out of me.”
Fred told Kate to seek out some implements from the shelves—adhesive bandages, rubbing alcohol, gauze pads, whatever else she could find. When she returned, she was juggling a bunch of boxes and had a bag of pretzels under one arm.
Fred unscrewed a bottle of peroxide and emptied it over the wound. It fizzed and burned slightly. Todd glanced down and saw a lightning bolt tear along his right shin, perhaps three inches long. Blood ran in muddy tributaries down his leg.
“Pretzel,” Fred said, as if requesting a scalpel from a nurse, and Kate popped a pretzel into his open mouth. As he crunched, he blotted the wound with a sanitary napkin, then proceeded to dress it in a gauze wrap.
“Some bedside manner,” Todd commented, and Fred chuckled.
A shadow moved out from the darkness. It was Shawna, looking younger and smaller than ever without her rifle slung over one shoulder. “Hey,” she said to no one in particular. “You think you could help me, too?”