I had witnessed Bob Ballard try the same thing on Mia in the basement of the house in Woodhaven. How he held the fact that she'd killed Billy—the father of her unborn child, who was infected at his time of death—over her head. Rather than let his mocking and taunting get to her, Mia, for the most part, owned up to it.

  The wraiths, however, had apparently opened a wound from a decade or so before, and it had shaken Mia to the core. She was tough, tough as hell, but the baggage of what happened to her childhood hamster must’ve weighed heavily on her mind for years. And who wouldn’t get upset about that?

  There are few things in life we hold as dearly to our hearts as the pets we grew up with. For me, it was my grandmother’s one-eyed cat; for my mother, it was the black Lab she wrote about in the short story I committed to memory and carried around in my wallet for years. So I didn’t blame Mia one bit for crying.

  But, as it turned out, her tears flowed over something other than the hamster.

  Later that night, before Mia told us the real reason for her sadness, we were gathered around the fire, sitting in warm silence.

  Ramsey had lugged a couple of plush benches from the lobby into the cafe. When he told us he was hitting the hay, he pushed them together and grabbed a few pillows and blankets for Mia, and then he crashed on the floor in the corner of the room and fell asleep almost instantly.

  The rest of us continued our silence after that. Mostly out of respect for Ramsey, but partly because, I think, no one felt much like talking.

  Stone spun around in a computer chair from the manager’s office; every so often, he’d roll to the window and peer out from behind the coverings. Ell and I, we were perfectly fine on the floor, cuddled up together by the warmth of the flames and listening to the occasional crackle of a burning log. Chewy, of course, opted for the luxury of Mia’s plushy benches. He nuzzled against her socked feet (she had proclaimed that the swelling prevented her from being comfortable in her boots, which I didn’t think was a good idea—in case we needed to flee—but, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, it’s best not to argue with a woman who’s very pregnant), and by the time Mia cleared her throat and said, “I wanna talk about…you know, what you guys might’ve heard the wraiths saying about me and why I was cryin’,” Chewy was already snoring away.

  Stone stopped spinning. He had found a sudden interest in the dirt beneath his nails.

  I looked up at Mia, channeling my inner Eleanor. “You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about.”

  I was glad to hear her voice, though. It beat the wind’s screeching, and Ramsey’s unconscious mutterings mixed with the occasional yelp for good measure.

  “Grady’s right,” Eleanor said.

  “No, I have to.” Mia scooted. Bringing her knees up to her belly, she accidentally bumped Chewy, who snorted and continued on snoozing like nothing happened. I swear her stomach seemed bigger than it had an hour or two before. Any movement, no matter how small, made me fear she would go into labor, and part of me wanted that just so it would be over, while another part dreaded the moment. No matter what, we weren’t prepared for it—because, in those days, with the snow and the monsters, you couldn’t exactly get prepared.

  “It was my mom out there,” Mia said. “She was talkin’ to me.”

  Stone arched an eyebrow. “Yeah…and?”

  That was when I realized what had shaken her up so much, and a sharp pain sliced through my heart.

  Eleanor understood too. “You poor thing. I’m so sorry.”

  “What? I don’t get it—” Stone began before Eleanor cut him off and politely asked me to hit him for her.

  Now, I may be dumb, but I ain’t dumb enough to disobey my girlfriend. There was enough cold out there already; I didn’t need the cold shoulder on top of that. So I punched Stone in the arm.

  “Ow! Christ!” he hissed. “You guys abuse me! If the world ever gets its shit together, I’m getting a restraining order.”

  Ramsey stirred, kicked his boot heels together, and rolled over, but he stayed asleep for the time being. I figured the knock on his head was a big part of that. Hell, I was surprised he hadn’t clocked out earlier.

  I lowered my voice. “Dude, her mom, she’s…you know.”

  “Oh fuck,” Stone muttered. His face grew serious after that news, and he scooted his computer chair toward Mia’s benches. “Yo, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Mia.”

  Mia waved his apology away. “It’s not like I didn’t expect it or nothing. Most everyone’s dead, aren’t they?”

  None of us answered, which was probably an answer enough.

  “It’s funny,” Mia continued, looking at Eleanor, “because I was just talkin’ to Mikey about this. He said he treated your guys’ mom bad, and then she was gone that very same night. I told him it was all right, that we all say dumb shit to our parents when we’re teenagers, you know, stuff like that. Now I’m here on the other end of that conversation, and I know that advice, those ‘words of comfort,’ are worthless.” She slammed her hands on the table to her right, and then dropped her head on top of them.

  As you know, the wraiths—the monsters—often presented themselves as our loved ones in an attempt to get us out in the snow. The one constant in those sinister manifestations? Those loved ones were always dead.

  But I thought of the helicopter and gunfire I heard while outside the tunnel that led into the trailer full of car batteries. That was new, just as the werewolf we’d seen back in the Woodhaven hotel had been new when it almost ripped our throats out. If those incidents had taught me anything, it was that we knew fuck-all about these things. None of their abilities were set in stone.

  I decided to share this logic with Mia and the others, hoping it might cheer her up.

  “It’s not for sure,” I said. “Your mom might still be alive.” I went on and explained my reasoning. Mia thanked me for trying, but I could tell I had failed to cheer her up.

  Truth is, it was hard to get happy about much of anything then.

  While on watch, as I sat at an uncomfortable angle in one of the cafe chairs, half-asleep and staring at the dying embers in the fireplace, I thought I heard a whispering voice in the wind. The voice spoke no intelligible words. It sounded as if they had a hand clamped over their mouth, or socks stuffed down their throat.

  I sat up, alert, with my blood feeling like it was going to burst from my veins. I waited a few moments. I don’t even think I took a breath as I strained my ears for the whispers. Nothing came from outside but silence. I told myself I must’ve imagined it. I was so exhausted and scared that my brain had played a trick on me.

  But then I heard something else nearer, only a few feet from where I was perched on the edge of my chair, and I knew this was no trick.

  It was a grunt of pain followed by a short, sharp scream.

  Mia.

  She writhed beneath the blankets, her eyes narrowed. Her hands hurried to her belly, clutching as she rolled and curled up on her side.

  For a long moment, I didn’t know what was happening. I thought she was having a vivid nightmare, or maybe a seizure. Then it hit me. How stupid could I be?

  That was no nightmare or seizure.

  No.

  Mia’s labor had begun.

  Hundreds and hundreds of movies and television shows had filled my head with false expectations of what happens when a woman goes into labor. I thought there would be a puddle on the floor, and Mia shouting, “My water broke! My water broke!”, and at least one of us men would pass out in shock. However, none of that happened. I mean, the dudes even managed to stay upright.

  Mia’s screams roused everyone awake. Ramsey rolled away from his corner and assumed what he called his battle position, which consisted of him looking more like a linemen preparing to sack the quarterback than someone engaging in a fight with an unseen enemy. Stone, lounging in his computer chair, fell forward and hit the floor. Luckily, the blankets wrapped around his body softened the blow; still, I don’t think it was a pleasant way to be woken. Chewy, scared and alarmed, dashed from Mia’s bench and ripped off a steady stream of barks.

  Eleanor rose the gentlest of us all. Sleeping on her side, she pulled herself up into a side plank, mouth hanging open. A large red splotch and several indentations were on her face, and her hair was everywhere.

  Mia’s lips formed a tight “o” as she sucked in sharp breath after breath. Ell, Stone, and I rushed to her. Eleanor grabbed her hand, but as Mia’s grip tightened and a few of Ell’s knuckles cracked loudly, she quickly realized this was a bad idea.

  I was so focused on what was going on inside, I had forgotten the muffled talking I heard outside only moments before Mia awoke. If the wraiths were calling our names, we wouldn’t have heard them over Chewy’s growls and barks, which had revved up in intensity since Mia’s initial screams.

  “Help me get her on the floor,” Ell said to us. Her voice sounded calm, serene. I didn’t know how she could be like that at a time like this. I remember being almost as shocked at her serene smile and warm but firm eyes as I was about Mia finally having her baby. Later, Ell would tell me she felt anything but calm on the inside, but her mother, who was a believer in meditation and all things zen, often reminded her that cooler heads prevailed. Me, on the other hand, pretty much forgot I had a head in times like these.

  “Ow-ow-ow-ow-ow-OW!” Mia moaned as we eased her off the benches. “Shitfuck-shitfuck-shitfuck!” She got a hold of Stone’s arm. Her fingers raked down the fabric of his jacket.

  “Shitfuck is right—damn, woman!” Stone said. “You’re gonna rip my shoulder out of its socket!”

  “Don’t you ‘damn, woman’ me, you motherfu—OWWWW!”

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” Ell cooed. “Deep breaths. Just take deep breaths. You’re just having a contraction, but it will be over soon.”

  Mia hunched over and cried out again. Tears traveled down the sides of her face. Her brow shined with moisture. For a moment, the beads of sweat on her forehead made me think I was in a dream. There was no way anyone could get hot enough to sweat considering how cold it was, unless they hung around in the Battery Box for too long, but that was on the other side of the theater.

  Ramsey peeked out one of the windows, and Chewy, his body now pointed toward the cafe’s far side wall, barked his head off and snarled. The hackles stood high on the back of his neck.

  Eleanor was right, though. The contraction passed, and Mia relaxed with relief. She fell from her reclined sitting position to flat on her back, her head propped by a rolled blanket. Ell grabbed the zipper of Mia’s jacket and pulled. Her belly sagged between her open legs. A strip of pale flesh showed beneath the hem of the hoodie she was wearing. Ell leaned over her, and with a t-shirt, she daubed the mixture of tears and perspiration from her face.

  As much as I wished I had been dreaming, I wasn’t. This was real, and it would only get worse.

  Case in point, what Ramsey pointed out next.

  “Guys,” he said, “we got company…” He slouched, his lips quivered, and he looked like he was on the verge of tears.

  “What do you mean?” Stone asked. “They’re back?”

  “Them, or some of their buddies.” Ramsey held a finger over his lips and shushed the room. “Listen.”

  “I can’t hear shit with the dog barking like that!” Stone argued.

  “Chewy!” I whispered sharply, patting my thigh. “Get over here!”

  He obeyed, bowing his head and peering at me with big, watery eyes as he limped my way. I felt like a jackass, but it was important that we were able to hear what was going on.

  And we did.

  Mumbling shouts in the wind cut through the new silence, the same sound I thought I heard before Mia’s contraction. I couldn’t make out the words, but the sounds brought an image to my brain a lot like the one Ramsey had described earlier.

  Now I knew why he seemed so shaken.

  The wraiths were back, yes, but they weren’t disguising themselves as our dead loved ones or acting out scenes of war.

  They had become the Thumbprint People.

  For a long moment, no one said anything. Chewy didn’t bark, and Mia didn’t scream or grunt as we listened to their voices grow closer.

  Then it was Stone, per usual, who shattered this quiet spell. “Are you fucking kidding me? Now? Right fucking now?”

  The seal broken, Mia uttered a soft cry. I turned and saw her tough external image break like the surface of a still pond beneath the pelting raindrops of a thunderstorm.

  “Breathe,” Ell said. “Just breathe, Mia. It’s gonna be all right. Didn’t I promise you that?”

  Mia nodded, but she spoke in the soft voice of a frightened child. “It…it hurts so bad, Ell. I don’t think I can do it.”

  “You can. You’re strong. Stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

  “Yeah,” I added, “how many people, let alone pregnant women, do you know who could brave this terrible weather and supernatural stuff for so long?”

  Mia offered us a slight smile, but the fear persisted beneath it. I asked if I could get her anything. She told me she’d like some cold water. I said I’d get it, motioning Ramsey my way under the guise of him showing me where he kept it. True, I didn’t know where the water was—though all water was cold then—but I could find it, no doubt.

  Once the door closed behind us, I turned to him and asked, “How many did you see?”

  “More.”

  “More than earlier?”

  Ramsey shook his head and looked down at the floor. “More than I’ve ever seen at once.”

  “What? Really?”

  “Yep.”

  “We’re gonna have to use the Battery Box again.”

  “That’ll make a dent in ‘em, but I don’t think they’re gonna give up so easy. We done pissed ‘em off, Grady. They’re gonna want a fight.”

  “Good,” I said. “I’m ready for a fight.”

  I came back with water for everyone. Mia gulped hers down in a matter of seconds, so I handed her another and she did the same.

  “Third time’s the charm?” I asked, holding out bottle number three.

  She took it but only sipped.

  Stone was sitting on the plush bench, leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands. He looked dazed. Chewy was lying under him, curled up and shivering.

  “We’re going to the Battery Box,” I said, tossing Stone a water bottle. He caught it, ripped the cap off, and chugged down half of it in one go. “You okay staying here?”

  His stubble-going-on-beard didn’t do enough to cover the sudden blanching of his dark skin. “Yeah, hurry up, though.” He glanced at the nearest window where, outside, something scratched against the glass, the sound louder than that of the mumbling Thumbprint People.

  As I started gathering supplies for my run to the Box, Mia screamed again. I turned and looked at her. Teeth gritted, face red, she inhaled and exhaled. It had only been ten or fifteen minutes since the first, but she was already in the throes of another contraction.

  My knowledge of women’s labor was spotty, at best. I learned a few things in school and in various EMT courses, but this didn’t seem right. The contractions were too close together to constitute early labor. I was about to ask Ell what the ETA on the delivery was, saw she was breathing along with Mia, and decided it best to leave her to it.

  Bending, I reached down by my chair and grabbed the bug spray and lighter. I gave it to Stone. “Just in case.”

  “In case what? Damnit, man, you can’t be saying shit like that. It puts a bad, I don’t know, juju or something on us.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Wait, one more thing.” I dug in my pocket, and as soon as I saw Stone’s gaze follow the descent of my hand, I pulled out my middle finger.

  He snorted. “That’s a good one. I’ll give you that, Grady.”

  “Grab Chewy from under there,” I said, pointing beneath Stone’s feet. “You guys can comfort each other—since you’ll be completely useless to Ell and Mia.”

  Stone gave the middle finger right back, but he wasted no time in scooping Chewy from the floor and hugging him against his chest. The two clung to one another like long-lost lovers.

  Ramsey and I headed toward the door. I hung back at the threshold and waited for him to lead the way. He didn’t move.

  “You okay?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know, man. Shit, I’m scared. Those fuckin’ things, when they look like the Thumbprint People—”

  “I can lead,” I said, “but I can’t work the batteries. I need you with me. Otherwise I think I’d blow us all sky-high.”

  Ramsey took in a deep breath, grimaced, and then his face smoothed out. “Okay, let’s go.”

  I led the way.

  Near the corridor connecting the theater to the Box, the outside air seeped through the tunnel’s thin steel walls, my clothes, and into my bones.

  This close, the mumbling voices were at their loudest. They called Ramsey’s name, sounding as if they were talking through mouths the size of pinholes, yet somehow their voices were loud, defying logic. Of course, most everything about the monsters defied logic. As did the summer snowstorms.

  I went through the door, careful to stay as far away from the walls as possible. Ramsey followed at my heels. We stopped at the locked trailer door, and he struggled to pull the keys from his pocket, but he was shaking so badly they fell from his grip and hit the concrete with a soft clink. He hesitated to bend and pick them up, so I did instead. Time wasn’t our friend now. The longer we mucked around in here, the better chance the monsters had of getting inside—and with Mia in labor, that was something we absolutely couldn’t allow.

  As soon as I touched the icy metal of the keys, a thump rattled the tunnel wall to my right. The lamp hanging above us from a scuffed orange extension cord flickered with the force of the hit, and when the first thump was followed by a series of half a dozen more (these on both sides), the lamp fell and shattered, extinguishing all light in the blink of an eye.

 

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