the roof. Her palms hit the cold slushy snow and she slides down onto her knees, the wetness seeping through her jeans and sending a chill through her entire body. There’s already at least three or four inches of snow accumulated on the roof. The freezing air hits her like a slap to the face as tiny particles of ice ride the snowflakes and tickle her eyes. The flakes are so big and blowing about with such ferocity that she cannot see more than a few feet in front of her. Above her, patches of black sky slip through the curtains of snow, reminding her again how dark it’s become. She scrambles up into a crouch and tries her best to get a look at the roof. It’s not terribly large but is cluttered with other vents and utility units. Hunched over, she hurries along the center of the roof toward the next closest structure; a large vent she quickly realizes is a heating duct, as hot air leaks from it in a steady wave. It makes perfect sense. If one were to hide up here under such conditions, this is the logical choice, perhaps the only choice where one could survive the elements.
Trying to remain low as possible, Greer moves carefully around the sizeable vent, squinting through the snow and pawing at her eyes as she circles around it. Just as she reaches the backside she hears a quiet high-pitched grunt followed by a flash of something dark coming at her through the snow and darkness.
It isn’t until it makes impact with her chest and vaults her away and onto her back that she realizes someone wearing a fairly rugged boot has kicked her. She lay in the snow stunned and trying to catch her breath, the flakes tumbling down at her like beautiful swirling razors. She feels her hair becoming wet, and bits of icy snow sliding along her neck. Her hands are cold and stiff, but she remembers the knife Doc gave her, and as she rolls over onto all fours, she grips its handle.
Through the storm, Greer sees a small female figure stumbling across the roof toward the lower, longer roof in the distance that runs the length of the units. She can’t call out, but knows if she doesn’t stop her she may never get another chance to save her. Visibility is bad wherever he is too, she thinks, and risking it, Greer stands and breaks into a full run, determined to catch Kit before she drops off this roof and onto the other.
She knows she won’t make it. “Wait!” she calls out, hoping her voice carries far enough to reach her but not enough to reach the lot below.
Kit staggers to a stop near the edge of the roof and looks back with equal parts terror and confusion.
Greer holds her hands up. “Stop,” she says breathlessly, chest heaving. “It’s OK, it’s—I promise it’s OK, I’m not—my name’s Greer. I’m here to help you.”
Kit’s face hints at relief, or perhaps it’s only disbelief, Greer cannot be certain. She stands in the whirl of snow, hands at her sides, looking drenched and freezing, her eyeglasses dotted with moisture and smeared with snow.
“There are two others down in the office,” Greer says. “Come with me. Please, we can’t stay out here. He’ll see us.”
Kit nods hesitantly, as if she doesn’t quite understand but comprehends enough to know she needs to listen. “He killed Carlin,” she says in a small voice.
“Please.” Greer reaches a hand out. “Come with me. Now.”
“He…killed him.”
Greer closes the gap between them with two quick strides and takes Kit’s hand. It’s cold as ice. “Come on, honey, it’s going to be OK but we have to get off this roof.”
Kit nods again. “I…I know, I…OK.”
Behind her, Greer sees something moving in the snow. At first she can’t be sure what it is because it’s a distance away on the roof of the units, but within seconds she can see that it’s moving fast.
A silhouette running toward them…duster flapping behind him…
Greer tightens her grip on Kit’s hand. “Run!” She turns and bolts back toward the vent, dragging Kit along
Trying to remain low as possible, Greer moves carefully around the sizeable vent, squinting through the snow and pawing at her eyes as she circles around it. Just as she reaches the backside she hears a quiet high-pitched grunt followed by a flash of something dark coming at her through the snow and darkness.
It isn’t until it makes impact with her chest and vaults her away and onto her back that she realizes someone wearing a fairly rugged boot has kicked her. She lay in the snow stunned and trying to catch her breath, the flakes tumbling down at her like beautiful swirling razors. She feels her hair becoming wet, and bits of icy snow sliding along her neck. Her hands are cold and stiff, but she remembers the knife Doc gave her, and as she rolls over onto all fours, she grips its handle.
Through the storm, Greer sees a small female figure stumbling across the roof toward the lower, longer roof in the distance that runs the length of the units. She can’t call out, but knows if she doesn’t stop her she may never get another chance to save her. Visibility is bad wherever he is too, she thinks, and risking it, Greer stands and breaks into a full run, determined to catch Kit before she drops off this roof and onto the other.
She knows she won’t make it. “Wait!” she calls out, hoping her voice carries far enough to reach her but not enough to reach the lot below.
Kit staggers to a stop near the edge of the roof and looks back with equal parts terror and confusion.
Greer holds her hands up. “Stop,” she says breathlessly, chest heaving. “It’s OK, it’s—I promise it’s OK, I’m not—my name’s Greer. I’m here to help you.”
Kit’s face hints at relief, or perhaps it’s only disbelief, Greer cannot be certain. She stands in the whirl of snow, hands at her sides, looking drenched and freezing, her eyeglasses dotted with moisture and smeared with snow.
“There are two others down in the office,” Greer says. “Come with me. Please, we can’t stay out here. He’ll see us.”
Kit nods hesitantly, as if she doesn’t quite understand but comprehends enough to know she needs to listen. “He killed Carlin,” she says in a small voice.
“Please.” Greer reaches a hand out. “Come with me. Now.”
“He…killed him.”
Greer closes the gap between them with two quick strides and takes Kit’s hand. It’s cold as ice. “Come on, honey, it’s going to be OK but we have to get off this roof.”
Kit nods again. “I…I know, I…OK.”
Behind her, Greer sees something moving in the snow. At first she can’t be sure what it is because it’s a distance away on the roof of the units, but within seconds she can see that it’s moving fast.
A silhouette running toward them…duster flapping behind him…
Greer tightens her grip on Kit’s hand. “Run!” She turns and bolts back toward the vent, dragging Kit along
Similar Books
