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Authors: Charles Sheffield
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I hear you right?" she said. "Did you say that you had trouble walking because the snow was unbroken?"
"Yes. From our house toward Toltoona, no one had been along it."
"Well, they certainly have now. A number of people. See for yourself."
The footprints were already filling, but they were unmistakable. Four or five separate tracks led in the direction we were traveling. There was no sign of them returning. I stayed up at the front of the cruiser and watched, convinced that at some point the trails in the snow would leave the road and head away, up the hill or down toward the shore.
They didn't. They continued, all the way to the path that served the front porch of my own house.
Even then I was not alarmed. Puzzled, yes. Who would visit us at this hour, and in this weather? But I had no sense of danger.
It was Doctor Eileen who halted the ground car twenty yards from the house, and stepped cautiously out into deep snow.
"You wait here, Jay," she said.
It was too late. I had climbed out of the cruiser behind her. I could see an odd patch of white and red on the porch, just beyond the farthest point that the blown snow had reached.
I ran to it and knelt down. It was Chum, lying in a pool of blood. My miniver had been skewered through from back to belly, pinned to the rough planks of the porch by one of our own long-bladed kitchen knives.
"Jay!" said Doctor Eileen again. But I was blundering in through the front door, dreading what I might find.
At first the scene inside seemed to match my worst fears. The living room was empty, a chaos of broken and overturned furniture. Beyond it, in the kitchen, Paddy Enderton lay stretched out on the floor. His face was purple, and he was not breathing. All the kitchen drawers and cabinets had been pulled open and their contents swept onto the floor. There was no sign of Mother, or of Uncle Duncan.
As Doctor Eileen bent over Paddy Enderton, I ran upstairs. The landing was deserted. The door of the guest room, my new bedroom, was open, and it was a shambles. Everything I owned was strewn randomly around the floor. Sick to my stomach, I pushed open the closed door of Mother's room.
She was there, lying face upward on her own bed. Her coat was off, and her dress had been ripped up the front from hem to waist. Her hands were bound in front of her, a broad cloth had been tied around her mouth, and the left side of her face was swollen and turning a dull red. But when I ran to her she opened her eyes and lifted her head.
"Doctor Eileen!" I cried. It emerged as a high-pitched scream. I turned Mother's head to get at the place the gag was tied. "Mother's here. She's alive. She's hurt."
Eileen Xavier came up the stairs two at a time, and was into the bedroom while I was still struggling with the knots.
"Look out, Jay." She pushed me out of the way and cut the gag through with one quick flick of a scalpel. Until that moment I had not realized that she was carrying it.
Mother was coughing, and pushing a ball of cloth out of her mouth with her tongue. Doctor Eileen stepped back, and did a quick survey of her from head to foot. "Duncan West?" she asked.
Mother shook her head. She tried to speak, but it came out only as another cough. Doctor Eileen turned to me. "Jay. Check the front bedroom."
Thinking back, I believe that she wanted me out of the way while she examined Mother. But I didn't know it at the time, and I stepped along the landing to my old room half-convinced that I would find Uncle Duncan stretched out on the floor there.
I didn't. The room was empty, at least of people. But the mess inside was even worse than anywhere else. Everything had been taken apart—the contents of Enderton's big square box removed and smashed to fragments, dressers and desk overturned, drawers emptied out onto the floor. The curtains had been pulled down and slit along their seams. The mattress of the bed had been ripped open, and its stuffing lay scattered everywhere. Even the window had been
"Yes. From our house toward Toltoona, no one had been along it."
"Well, they certainly have now. A number of people. See for yourself."
The footprints were already filling, but they were unmistakable. Four or five separate tracks led in the direction we were traveling. There was no sign of them returning. I stayed up at the front of the cruiser and watched, convinced that at some point the trails in the snow would leave the road and head away, up the hill or down toward the shore.
They didn't. They continued, all the way to the path that served the front porch of my own house.
Even then I was not alarmed. Puzzled, yes. Who would visit us at this hour, and in this weather? But I had no sense of danger.
It was Doctor Eileen who halted the ground car twenty yards from the house, and stepped cautiously out into deep snow.
"You wait here, Jay," she said.
It was too late. I had climbed out of the cruiser behind her. I could see an odd patch of white and red on the porch, just beyond the farthest point that the blown snow had reached.
I ran to it and knelt down. It was Chum, lying in a pool of blood. My miniver had been skewered through from back to belly, pinned to the rough planks of the porch by one of our own long-bladed kitchen knives.
"Jay!" said Doctor Eileen again. But I was blundering in through the front door, dreading what I might find.
At first the scene inside seemed to match my worst fears. The living room was empty, a chaos of broken and overturned furniture. Beyond it, in the kitchen, Paddy Enderton lay stretched out on the floor. His face was purple, and he was not breathing. All the kitchen drawers and cabinets had been pulled open and their contents swept onto the floor. There was no sign of Mother, or of Uncle Duncan.
As Doctor Eileen bent over Paddy Enderton, I ran upstairs. The landing was deserted. The door of the guest room, my new bedroom, was open, and it was a shambles. Everything I owned was strewn randomly around the floor. Sick to my stomach, I pushed open the closed door of Mother's room.
She was there, lying face upward on her own bed. Her coat was off, and her dress had been ripped up the front from hem to waist. Her hands were bound in front of her, a broad cloth had been tied around her mouth, and the left side of her face was swollen and turning a dull red. But when I ran to her she opened her eyes and lifted her head.
"Doctor Eileen!" I cried. It emerged as a high-pitched scream. I turned Mother's head to get at the place the gag was tied. "Mother's here. She's alive. She's hurt."
Eileen Xavier came up the stairs two at a time, and was into the bedroom while I was still struggling with the knots.
"Look out, Jay." She pushed me out of the way and cut the gag through with one quick flick of a scalpel. Until that moment I had not realized that she was carrying it.
Mother was coughing, and pushing a ball of cloth out of her mouth with her tongue. Doctor Eileen stepped back, and did a quick survey of her from head to foot. "Duncan West?" she asked.
Mother shook her head. She tried to speak, but it came out only as another cough. Doctor Eileen turned to me. "Jay. Check the front bedroom."
Thinking back, I believe that she wanted me out of the way while she examined Mother. But I didn't know it at the time, and I stepped along the landing to my old room half-convinced that I would find Uncle Duncan stretched out on the floor there.
I didn't. The room was empty, at least of people. But the mess inside was even worse than anywhere else. Everything had been taken apart—the contents of Enderton's big square box removed and smashed to fragments, dressers and desk overturned, drawers emptied out onto the floor. The curtains had been pulled down and slit along their seams. The mattress of the bed had been ripped open, and its stuffing lay scattered everywhere. Even the window had been
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