Part 2 (1/2)

Makenzie grabbed the nearest cup, and let his face soak up the steam for a moment. 'Tell you what, I'm going to be kind today, not even let you know how wrong you got that.'

'Trouble up on Walton Mountain?'

Makenzie had to laugh halfway through blowing on his coffee. Laurie's favourite joke, now there was a woman and a kid in the Chiefs life. He stole a glance at his deputy: skin the colour of winter, long hair the colour of fall. Laurie Aldrich.

Now there sat a mistake he would gladly have made if Martha hadn't happened. Fact was that he'd been on the point of making it when he'd been called out to the trailer park, a bunch of wasters from Wawbeek creating trouble outside of Martha's trailer; baiting the Southerners.

Helping her out, protecting her and her kid, that night it had been about doing his job. Two nights later something had prompted him to swing by and check on how she was doing. Then the same thing prompted him to ask her out.

Looking after the pair of them, Martha and Amber, now it was about his life. Him and Melvin Village, living for other people, and when we're alone - well, Makenzie got by.

Makenzie Shaw had been getting by since he was ten years old. Since he was Amber's age.

Laurie was attractive and she was there every day. And she was two-thirds his age. So now he woke up to Martha's head on the pillow, all that brown hair ma.s.sed up, and he could see himself with her ten, twenty years down the road. The picture was that clear. In his head, at least, it all worked out fine.

'Hey, you know, Chief, you ever want to talk about it. Over a beer, you know?'

He'd sat quiet too long, he realised.

'Nah, ain't a domestic situation been invented I can't handle,' he beamed, then raised a Styrofoam toast. Laurie was good, and the thought of red hair on his pillow was inevitable. Where would they have ended up by now? Sitting in the same truck every morning? Picking up coffees from Hal's store? Don't even go there, Makenzie. Just a different colour to your morning. Not a big enough change to want that bad.

'Appreciate the asking anyhow.' Makenzie held a bead of caffeine on his tongue. 'So - what'd Hal have to say?'

Laurie settled back in her chair. She knew when the personal door was closed. 'He was kind of worried, Chief.

This couple came in early, stocked up on supplies for the road. The guy reckoned the weather had eased off, enough to try the journey home anyway. Said a few of the townsfolk were going to try to make a break for it along with them.'

Yeah, thought Makenzie. Not the real townsfolk. Just the ones who'd bought themselves a nice holiday home or two around here.

'What time?'

'Round seven. Hal told them he didn't like the way the storm was eyeing up the town. But the guy said his lady had been going stir crazy over in the hotel. So it was today or never.'

Makenzie shook his head, returned his cup to the dash.

'Never make promises you can't keep. Okay, well 1 guess we'd best check it out - for all our peaces of mind. They tell Hal which way their little convoy was going?'

'North. The ploughs were all along Route 109 two days ago.

Guess they reckoned on a lot of traffic before Thanksgiving, huh?'

'I admire optimism,' remarked Makenzie as he grabbed the wheel and reached for the ignition. He gunned the engine and wheeled his truck gently out into the street.

'But I'd have to side with Hal on this one. I don't like the way that storm's looking at us. Not one bit. Best check it out, bring them back in. Maybe you should have had Hal fill up a Thermos or two.'

He swung the vehicle round wide to steer them north. As he started out of town the winter, for the present, was parting to let them through.

'Maybe they had a lucky break, Chief. Maybe they made it 'Maybe.' But Makenzie's tone wasn't convincing either of Ten minutes into her walk and Amber's face still burned. It hadn't helped that she'd been near enough to the road to watch Makenzie when he rolled by on his way to work. That big important truck, with the rig of lights on the roof, always idle, and the Police badge emblazoned on the doors, as idle as the lights far as Amber knew.

Makenzie, driving down to take care of his precious town, like he was its daddy or something. Like he owned the place.

He hated her Daddy because he wasn't anything important like him. And sure, because he hurt Mom. But - hey, screw him. She was out on her own now, just her and the snow.

She could do what she liked.

Pretty soon she was marching between the trees, away from the track - which you couldn't see anyway - and after a while the sting in her cheeks was only the wind. And as she walked, enjoying the effort it took to plant and re-plant her boots in the drifts, she imagined all sorts of craggy faces carved in the silver-white bark around her. She wished she had her knife so she could carve them some angrier faces, and the idea made her laugh.

She trotted for a while to keep warm and to get her to her secret place just a little quicker. She kicked the snows and spun about, and she sang out loud, a note of triumph she couldn't have explained if she'd wanted to.

Her own voice stopped her, like she'd screamed in the middle of someone else's party. Too loud. She searched around fast for the people who must have heard her. The ones she felt sure must be watching. Except she knew - she knew - there was n.o.body up here. How could there be? She was alone on the mountain. Makenzie's mountain. - there was n.o.body up here. How could there be? She was alone on the mountain. Makenzie's mountain.

Mount Shaw. Makenzie had joked about how it was his mountain that day they'd moved in - when taking the family family for a summer evening walk seemed like a good idea. But they'd stopped close by another cabin, maybe fifty yards short, Makenzie said, of the view he'd promised them. for a summer evening walk seemed like a good idea. But they'd stopped close by another cabin, maybe fifty yards short, Makenzie said, of the view he'd promised them.

Because Amber had complained she was tired, complained until Mom took her side. Today that cabin was only a shadow on the air, but the look in Makenzie's eyes as they'd trekked back down his mountain was carved in bark.

Well the mountain was hers right now. She was alone here.

She ruled the mountain. She could do what she liked and it didn't matter who was watching.

She bent to scoop up a lovely helping of the ground. She pounded it together, thinking it was like a ball of frozen mashed potato.

Then she hurled it, full force, at the face in the nearest tree.

But she didn't watch what it did to the face. She was more interested in the way her creation broke apart in soft lumps, flying in every direction and falling noiselessly back to being just part of the ground once more.

Done standing still, Amber spun and carried on up the hill with a fresh spring in her step. There wasn't any movement in the forest; none at all. So perhaps it was the stillness that kept provoking her to glance around. There was never anything there, ever, and she didn't like feeling so stupid.

She wanted to get to her hideout already.

Gearing herself up, she turned her run into a charge for the last stretch of the slope.

She was about ready to let out another great hurrah - but as she conquered the rise, a layer of ground, huge and purest white, flew up to smother her. And trapped the cheer in her throat.

'Don't you people know any other welcome? Honestly, put a gun in a man's hands and he seems to forget all about tea and biscuits.'

Given that the air had to escape over such a wall of teeth, the power in the man's voice was phenomenal. Sufficient to command Kristal's attention, such that she hardly noticed as Hmieleski carefully plucked each tiny splinter of gla.s.s from her forearm. There was such gravity too in the stranger's face, and eyes that could stare down an owl.

'Oh, please, you'll have to excuse the substandard hospitality,' parried the Captain, his tone a poor glue for patience already snapped, 'but you and your girlfriend have just walked in on something of a situation here and it so happens you look to me like a couple of cultists.'

Oh really? And what do they look like?'

All the guns levelled at the prisoner might as well have been water pistols, although he kept his hands aloft as a courtesy. Or as an example to his companion.

'Well, the specifics I think vary from cult to cult, but broadly speaking they tend to look weird. weird. And if I put that description out to the local cops, my guess is you'd be the first suspects they bring in for questioning.' And if I put that description out to the local cops, my guess is you'd be the first suspects they bring in for questioning.'

'We generally are. Isn't that right, Leela?'

The girl - the woman - she was an altogether different fascination. Steadfastly silent, trusting and afraid, ward and guardian both to this outlandish hobo who'd barged in on the Captain's precious scene. They'd received advanced warning from Falvi and Barnes out on the perimeter, but the snipers'

report hadn't prepared anyone for the figures that walked in.