“Julia!”
And Julia said, “Why didn’t you pick up?”
“Sorry, it’s a hairy situation here on the road. Hadda link it to my Beats first. Any news?”
“I . . . no.” Her voice sounded strangely hollow. Maybe she’d just woken up, or maybe she hadn’t been able to sleep at all. “Where are you?”
“On my way. You okay, sis? You sound weird.”
Short silence, then a sigh. “Yes.” She said, “It’s just, this storm is driving me crazy. How long will it take you to get here?”
“Um, beats me. Get this: I’m driving behind a snowplow! Only way to go up tonight.” So I tell her that after Bern the jams had finally broken up. That the roads had emptied out but that it only made conditions worse. I tell her about the weather alert, about the avalanche alarm in the mountains. Talking to Julia was good. The sound of my voice made me feel a little less alone with the orange lights flashing in my retinas and the strange, filtered wailing of the midnight storm through the noise cancellation. And, okay, a little less scared. At some point, the only reason I was rattling on was to listen to my own voice.
“. . . cuz I slid sideways across the road all the way to the shoulder before I got it under control. After that it got a bit better cuz they’re spreading salt, but they can salt till the cows come home, it’s not gonna do any good. Totally awesome, all the gear these Switzers bring out to keep their roads clear. They’re a zillion times more equipped than us, but hey, they’re Switzers, man . . .”
On the other end of the line, a clattering. A phone dropping from somebody’s fingers. And I said, “Hello?” Said, “Hello? Hello? Are you there?” Said, “Julia?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“Oh, okay. Wonder woman. Anyway, it was weird driving past Montreux cuz Nick was there today and, who knows, maybe he still is . . .” I listened. The silence on the other end was oppressive. “Hello?”
No breathing. Just soft static. As if the storm itself was breathing on the line. You read stuff like that in old books, but was that even still possible with wireless satellite networks?
Not the storm. The breath of the Maudit.
And I said, “Julia? Julia!”
“Sorry, I . . . I dropped you. Keep talking, I’m here.”
I heard a floorboard creak through my Beats. Julia was in the attic.
“I dunno, the connection keeps breaking up, I think.” I listened—seemed okay now. “Anyway, so when I finally got to the valley, what I was afraid of actually happened: the road to Grimentz was closed.” All the way from the highway, I told her. And then the whole story about me bamboozling the snowplow guy. The snowplow that just happened to drive by while I was taking out my frustrations on the upholstery of Nick’s Focus. The roadworks dude with his reflective vest, he mounted snow chains on my front wheels—that’s how I could get moving, even if it was slow. And meanwhile, this sign looms up on the abyss side of the road, its snow growth shaven off by the razor-sharp wind: vissoie 3 grimentz 11 zinal 15.
That dude, he said he could get me to Grimentz, but not via the direct route, which twisted all the way down to the valley floor and climbed back up on the fault side of the Navisence. Too dangerous. We were following the main road and turned off just before Zinal. That way was longer but lay in the lee of the forest and was less steep. I said I don’t care how you get me there, as long as I get there in time to chop off someone’s umbilical cord.
“Seriously, it’s hellacious. I think the road behind us snowed up again right away. Some of the time I can’t even see the plow’s taillights through the windshield and I’m only ten yards behind him. I was really lucky. He wasn’t supposed to go any further than Vissoie tonight, but—You still there, Jules?”
And Julia said, “Did you get to the valley yet?” As if it only just dawned on her.
And me, “Yeah. That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“Please get here quickly,”
“I’m doing the best I can, sis, but I can’t go faster than the snowplow. Eight or nine miles to go, I think. Half an hour, forty minutes tops.”
Something in her voice stilled me. In the end, a voice in your headphones only gives you a false sense of security. In reality, there was an endless tunnel of whirling snow shapes between us. My eyes stared into that tunnel till they started tearing, shooting left to right in their sockets to catch any sight of danger. To see what it was out there that was hunting you. The deeper you penetrated the mountains as a human being, the more you became a handicapped animal stalked by something with drooling jaws.
I shuddered, pushed the thought out of my head, couldn’t do it. “I tried calling Nick,” I said softly. Licked my lips, which felt like parchment. “His phone is still off.” Said, “I’m scared, Jules.”
And all of a sudden, like an epiphany, I realized that the danger wasn’t here, on this mountain road, but to the south, in Hill House.
This was way bad. And I was too late.
I whispered, “Julia . . .”
And Julia shivering, hyperventilating: “W-wh-what?”
“Julia, what’s going on? Are you crying?”
“No, I’m . . .”
“You are crying! Sis, what is it?” Two hands clawing at the wheel, cold sweat in my neck. “Did anything happen?”
“Please come, oh god . . .”
“I’m coming!” My voice caught now. “I’m on my way, you know that, but I can’t go any faster! What happened?”
And Julia said, “There are people here.”
“What?”
“There are people here.”
“Whaddya mean, ‘people’?”
“In my bedroom.”
“Whaddya mean there are people? From the village? The people from the village who came earlier?”
“No, not them.”
Julia’s voice, a choked peep. What she just said sank in only now.
In my bedroom.
A piercing shriek, a loud thud. You didn’t hear it with your ears but with your heart and soul. The floodgates that finally opened, the realization that fell into place in my brain. The shadows I’d seen at the peak of the Morose, thronging the bathroom. The echoes. Oh Jesus.
Maria’s voice, itself now an echo: They say the dead want to embrace you. That they want to warm themselves with your life. Because they’re so cold. So very cold.
“There are people here . . .” Julia peeped again. “The whole room is full of people and they’re staring at me. Oh god, Sam, they’re getting closer! Oh Jesus. They keep getting closer. Help me. Please come right away. There’s a woman and she’s staring at me, she’s standing next to my bed and she keeps staring at me . . .”
I felt all the color draining away, not only from my face but from the world. “Julia! Oh god, do they have eyes? Do these people have eyes?”
And Julia started to scream. My baby sister. My Julia. Screaming.