Suffer the Children (6 page)

“What do you think happened?” Ben asked David. “Some type of terrorist attack?”

David shook his head. He had no idea. “We should get home.”

“Why? Whatever it is, it’s not here in Michigan, right?”

Nadine squeezed David’s hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She said nothing, staring over his shoulder. He followed her gaze toward the front door of the restaurant, where a dazed woman stood alone.

David watched her ball her fists and scream, silencing them all.

Hour of Herod Event

Doug wished he had a shotgun in his hands.

He pictured himself deep in the woods, doing some hunting.

The skaters flowed clockwise around the outdoor ice rink. While some parents skated with their kids, most sipped coffee and smiled from the sidelines.

He stood apart from the crowd in the hope nobody would approach him to engage in banal small talk. None of these people were his friends. He couldn’t say he really had any. Acquaintances, sure. He had lots of those. Guys he worked with and husbands of Joan’s friends with whom he was occasionally forced to socialize.

He didn’t mind; he wasn’t much of a social guy anyway. He considered himself related to the cave bear. His family was everything to him. If you weren’t in his tribe, he didn’t care much about you and had a hard time faking it.

Doug checked out the moms, but even that got boring. This babysitting was for the birds. He didn’t understand these “breaks” Joanie needed every once in a while. She’d wanted kids; he’d given her kids. Taking care of them was her job. His job was to work ten hours a day, plus overtime, doing hard, dirty work to keep a roof over their heads. His job was to fix what needed fixing around the house. Hell, he needed breaks too. A little
me
time.

Like hunting. Sitting in a tree enjoying nature, with a thermos of hot coffee to keep him warm. The deep silences. Last year, he’d shot a doe and put a lot of meat in the freezer. Venison was good eating if you cooked it right. Roasts, stews, burgers.

Nate skated to a halt at the edge of the ice. “Is that hot chocolate, Dad?”

“Yup.” Doug handed it over.

His son poured a cup, gulped it down, and gasped for air. “Jeez, that’s really hot.”

“Warm you up good, kid.”

“I got invited to a game of shinny later. Can I play, Dad?”

“Sure. Just keep an eye out for Keith.”

“I will,” Nate grumbled.

Nate loved playing pickup games of hockey, but Keith McDonald always got carried away and reefed the puck, sending it flying above the ice among kids without protective gear. Normally, Doug wouldn’t say a word; he wanted Nate to learn how to handle these things for himself. But he was in charge today, like it or not, and intended for both his kids to give their mom a glowing report card for Daddy.

“And get home before dark, understand?”

“Okay, Dad.”

“Daddy!” Megan yelled. She trudged along the ice in her bulky snowsuit and helmet, pushing her bright orange training aid. “Look at me!”

“See you, Dad,” Nate said as he sped away.

“You’re doing great, princess,” Doug told Megan.

“I want you to come with me as I go around, Daddy.”

“I will in a minute.”

She ground to a halt in front of him and promptly fell on her butt. He laughed.

“No,
not
in a minute,” she groused. “Right
now
.” She grabbed two handfuls of snow at his feet with her pink mittens and flung them over her head. “Dad-deeeee!”

“I will in a minute. Promise.”

“You have to chip in, you know,” Megan added in a perfect imitation of her mother.

Definitely the same blood there
.
The apple doesn’t fall far and all that.

Nate tested boundaries like any other kid but otherwise didn’t give his old man lip. Doug had never hit his kids and never would, but his size was naturally intimidating. Megan, on the other hand, was turning into the mother-in-law he’d never had. A real nag, but he was totally fine with it. Little Meggie could do no wrong in his book.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he told her. “Daddy’s trying real hard.”

“Okay.” Megan returned to skating along her slow circuit. “Bye, Daddy!”

He watched her go, noting with pride how she got right back up after falling.

And he thought:
My life is pretty fucking good.

As always happened, once he gave up thinking about what
he
wanted to do and resigned himself to focusing on the kids, he loosened up and began to enjoy himself. Sometimes playing along. Other times, like now, just watching.

One of the children took a nose dive onto the ice, producing gasps and a little laughter among the other kids.

Doug winced.
That had to hurt.
Several of the older kids and adults gathered around and gawked. Doug’s eyes flickered to Nate and Megan to make sure they were still trucking.

“Hey, partner.” Coral’s husband, Earl, sidled up to him, hands buried in the pockets of his jacket. He wore an absurd plaid winter hat with floppy earflaps. “I thought I’d find you here. Girls’ day out, eh? How you been?”

“Peachy,” said Doug. He cupped his hands to light a Winston.

“What’s in the thermos?”

“Hot chocolate. For the kids.”

“Nothing stronger, huh?”

“Nope. Don’t drink.” He watched the crowd grow around the fallen kid. It looked like somebody was going home with a sprained wrist or worse.

The parents buzzed along the edge of the rink.
Concussion
, Doug heard.

“Eh, too bad. I could really use a boost right about now.” Earl wiped his nose with the back of his glove. “Man, I wish I was off on my own today.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

“I’ll tell you what I’d rather be doing. You got yourself a snowmobile?”

Doug resisted the urge to laugh in the man’s face. “No, Earl, I don’t have any snowmobile.”

“Me and Coral just bought one. It’s a cross-country model. It’ll take you
anywhere
. Fuel-injected four-cylinder engine, easy steering, adjustable rear suspension. You know where Route Twenty-Three wraps around the lake?”

“Yeah,” said Doug. “Hey, what’s going on over there, you think? That kid’s hurt bad, from the looks of it.”

“There’s a little road about a mile before the evergreen farm,” Earl kept on, wrapped up in his petty boasting. “Takes you right into some fantastic open country where you can cut loose with some off-trail sledding. I’m taking Peter out there next weekend.”

Doug grunted his irritation. Earl worked in heating and cooling and took home about as much money as Doug did, but he and Coral spent everything they earned, and then some, on themselves and their kids.

Not Doug, though. He remembered the red-faced old regulars he’d seen huddled around the bar at Cody’s Bar so many years ago, slowly drinking their pension checks. They’d always talk about how things were better back in the day. Those old farts had worked factory jobs with union wages. All gone now. Times were tough all over. These days, a lot of folks in Lansdowne had to work two, even three jobs to put food on the table.

Maybe Earl and Coral had the right idea, though. If you were screwed, why not borrow as much as you could, blow it having fun, and declare bankruptcy? Ten years later, you could be back on your feet. Doug pictured himself riding a snowmobile next weekend with Nate. He had a credit card; it was really that simple. They could have it all, at least for a while.

But that wouldn’t be fair to the kids. Doug had a deep drive to see them do better in life than he had. Maybe Nate and Megan wouldn’t necessarily have a better future, but at least Doug could say he’d given them a fighting chance. And that meant putting every extra dollar they had away for college.

Another kid, this one a little girl, fell face-first on the ice. She didn’t get up. Earl didn’t notice, blathering on about his snowmobile.

“Something’s not right,” Doug murmured.

“What’s that?” said Earl.

A small boy’s knees buckled. He went down hard. Doug saw blood squirt from his nose on impact. Somebody screamed.

There’s something wrong with the ice
.

“Megan!” he called. “Nate, come on over here now.”

Parents crowded the edge of the rink, shouting out names. Three more kids fell all at once. The parents swarmed onto the rink. A flurry of panicked shrieks rent the air. Doug stepped onto the ice, almost lost his footing, and pushed through the crowd shouting for his kids.

He slipped and fell hard. Pain flared in his hip. He hauled himself to his feet.

“Megan! Nate!”

He found his little girl sitting on the ice, crying into her mittens. The training aid lay on its side. Nate knelt behind her, arms locked around her body in a protective hug.

Doug fell hard again. The thermos rolled away. A boot slammed into his head. He rose to his hands and knees with a groan and crawled.

“Dad!” cried Nate.

Doug enclosed his children in his arms. Was this enough to protect them? He glared at the people swirling around, ready to knock anybody flat if they so much as even looked at his boy and girl. His heart leaped in fear at the sight of bodies on the ice. Everybody was screaming. He couldn’t think. His head ached.

“What’s going on, Dad?” said Nate. “Dad!”

The ice is bad! Get them off the ice!

He scooped the kids under his arms and glided across the ice until he reached the edge. He kept on going toward the parking lot, leaving the path and cutting through a snowy field.

Halfway across, he set them down to check on them.

“You all right?”

Megan uncovered her face and yelled at the crowd behind: “
Stop.
”

Doug sighed with relief. His kids were fine.

He’d saved them from something, but he didn’t know what.

Nate sniffed the air. “Somebody’s toast is burning.”

Doug looked at him. “What?”

Nate fell backward. His body thudded into the snow.

Doug stared in disbelief. “Nate?
Nate!
”

He crouched over his son and shook him. “Wake up. Come on, stop kidding around.”

Nate didn’t move. His eyes were open. Glassy and staring at nothing.

“Daddy, what’s wrong with him?”

Doug spared a glance at Megan. “Nothing, princess.”

He’s dead.

“He’s
fine
.” He shook the boy again. “Come on, wake up. Wake up!”

“Daddy, my head really hurts!”

“Hang on, princess. Daddy has to—” His body tingled from his heart to his fingertips. He wheeled. “No,
no
,
wait
,
wait
,
WAIT GODDAMN IT—
”

Megan fell onto her side. Her foot jerked several times. Then stopped.

“Kids,” said Doug.

He picked up Megan and hugged her. He felt numb. He couldn’t breathe. His vision swirled with dots of light.

“I’ve got you,” he said. “Come on. We got to get you to a doctor. We’re going to fix this.”

Megan’s head flopped against his shoulder. She felt much heavier than when he’d carried her this morning. He’d tossed her laughing in the air like she was nothing. He picked up Nate’s limp form with his other arm. Dead weight.

He stumbled toward his truck in a daze. He didn’t make it. He fell to his knees with a long, primal cry of anguish. Behind him, panic had given way to shock and grief, the park quiet now except for intense sobbing and the odd scream.

Across the entire park, not a single child was still alive.

Hour of Herod Event

Ramona had reached the end of her rope.

The mall was hot, dry, and overcrowded. Josh wasn’t feeling well and had to be carried. He pestered her with a revolving list of demands:
Let me walk by myself, take me to the LEGO store, I want a piece of gum.
The promise of meeting Santa couldn’t compete with these needs
that took on massive importance as soon as he thought of them. Every time she said no, he flew into a fresh rage.

Screaming: “I don’t like Mommy anymore!”

“Josh, stop this right now.”

“I want to go to Joanie’s!”

Good idea!
thought Ramona. Monday, the start of another dull, grinding workweek spent in a fluorescent office, sounded perfect right about now.

She tried once more to draw him out. “I love you even though you’re mad at me.”

He wailed against her shoulder, leaving a smear of snot. The shoppers milled around her. She caught fragmentary glimpses of people’s faces, expressions of amusement and pity.

“Josh.” Her voice hardened. “If you don’t stop right now, I’m taking you home.”

He continued to cry and kick his legs.

“All right.” She clenched her teeth. “That’s it. We’re not going to see Santa. We’re going home.”

“No! No! I’ll stop crying.”

He trembled in her arms. Ramona sensed his struggle to put a lid on his emotions. It reminded her he was four and this was what four-year-olds sometimes did. They threw tantrums. They lost control.

“Hey, little man. It’s Santa’s castle. We made it!”

He looked for himself and grinned at what he saw.

Ramona wiped his face. “Do you want to see Santa?”

“Okay.”

“Then no more yelling at Mommy. That is
not
acceptable. Okay?”

Josh looked down. “Okay.”

The display was massive. Santa sat enthroned on a stage in front of a backdrop representing his workshop on the North Pole. Brilliant Christmas trees, giant bow-covered boxes, and piles of cotton snow completed the scene. A cute teenage girl dressed in an elf costume ushered a little boy onto Santa’s lap, where Santa spoke the magic words in his booming voice:

“What’s YOUR name? Robbie? Well, Robbie, what do YOU want for Christmas?”

Ramona thought the mall’s management had picked the perfect Santa—naturally rotund, and even the beard looked authentic. He had a kind, jolly face. The line of parents and their children snaked down the ramp onto the floor of the mall, where another elf greeted them.