Free Snow by Ronald Malfi Page B

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 andNan, 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