Werewolf Suspense (Book 2): Outage 2 (The Awakening) (2 page)

Tom bit back his emotion and walked the remaining steps toward the circuit breaker. He shined the flashlight and pulled the lever. From upstairs, he heard the creak of a floorboard—probably Lorena waiting for him. Her uneasiness transcended the space between them. He tucked the flashlight under his arm and reached for the light switch.

A
thud
emanated from the backyard.

What the hell?

Tom paused. He swiveled toward the rear of the house and listened. All was still. He waited a second, then reached for the light switch. The thud came again. He grabbed the flashlight and shined it at one of the rear windows, looking for the source of the disturbance. Snowflakes drifted past the small pane. The window was at ground level; the lower half was obscured with white powder. He could barely see outside.

Tom crept across the basement toward the window, leaving the light off.

"Lorena?" he hissed in the direction of the stairwell.
 

Nobody answered. The noise came again. It was definitely from somewhere out back. Tom kept his eyes glued to the small window, afraid to look away, afraid he might miss whatever it was. Was it a burglar? Was someone trying to break in?

He thought of his gun—upstairs in the bedroom, tucked in the closet.
 

It was two floors away, much too far away to get to it quickly. But he wouldn't panic. Not yet. He'd see what the sound was before alarming Lorena. It was probably something normal, something explainable.
 

He didn't want to frighten his wife unnecessarily.
 

He stole past his tool bench until he'd reached the basement window, then stood on his tiptoes and peered over the windowsill, aiming his flashlight. When he looked above the snowdrift, he was surprised to find the yard was illuminated, even in the middle of the night. The moon crept stealthily from behind the clouds.

He never recalled seeing the moon during a storm.

That's strange,
he thought.

The backyard was a white replica of the one he knew. Snow decorated the trees, the yard, and the deck. Nothing was out of order. No animals. No intruders. He scoured the landscape. After a minute, he located the cause of the disturbance. Two medium-sized branches had fallen in the yard. Snow and leaves clung to the sides, making impressions in the white-covered ground. The limbs must've broken off with the weight of the snow.
 

It was strange, but explainable.

Relieved, Tom returned to the light switch and flipped it. The room brightened. At the same time, the furnace kicked on with a rumble, filling the basement with sound. Lorena's footsteps arose from upstairs.

It was as if restoring the power had returned everything else to normal.
 

Tom sighed with relief and flicked off his flashlight. Before heading to the stairs, he stole one last glance out the window, watching quiet snow flit past the pane.
 

He sighed and headed back upstairs.

Lorena was waiting for him by the kitchen window. The kitchen light was on. She stared out into the backyard, her eyes locked on the landscape. She spun as he entered. She must've seen the concern on Tom's face. She frowned.

"Everything okay with the power?" she asked.

"Yeah. Everything's fine. I heard some tree branches falling in the backyard, that's all. They startled me."

Lorena pointed out the window. "I know—I saw them. Another one just fell in the woods."

Tom nodded. "It's because of the early snow. It must be weighing them down. I don't recall ever having a storm like this in October. It's very strange."

Lorena lowered her gaze.

"You all right, Lorena?" he asked.

She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. He knew what she was thinking about, because he was thinking the same thing.

"I wish you didn't have to work," she whispered. "The roads are only going to get worse."

Tom took his wife's hand. "Don't worry, I'll be careful. I'll be home before you know it. I need this job, honey. Once we get the place updated, once we get the contractors in here…"

They'd talked about moving for over a year. Their plan was to go down south. After Jeremy had died, the house had become a mausoleum, a place to hang their coats and eat their meals. Nothing more.

"Let's head back upstairs and get some sleep," Tom suggested.

He turned on the hall light and snapped off the light in the kitchen, then led his wife to the staircase. They climbed the stairs and reached the hall, making their way into the master bedroom.
 

The alarm blinked twelve o'clock. Tom set the time and put on his work clothes. Then he placed his boots near the bed. He climbed beneath the sheets, where Lorena was waiting. She reached over and took his hand, giving it a squeeze. He doubted she'd be able to sleep. He wouldn't, either.

He'd have to get up for his shift soon, anyway.

The generator pulsed from the garage. Tom wondered how his neighbors were making out. One or two had generators, but not all of them did. There was a possibility one of them would come to the house in the morning.
 

If so, that was fine with him.

Tom closed his eyes and let his mind drift. Every so often, a branch cracked and fell outside, but he ignored it. A car started outside. Then another. He assumed his neighbors were leaving to get somewhere warm. He ignored that, too. He needed to get rest; otherwise he'd be exhausted for his shift.
 

He contemplated what he'd do after work. When he got home, he and Lorena would spend the day together. They'd make the best of the situation. They'd make hot chocolate and watch television, and he'd blow snow. Someday, someday
soon
, they'd leave the house behind and move. They needed a fresh start.

A scream wrenched him from his thoughts.

Tom bolted upright in bed and flung the sheets aside, heart knocking.

"What was that?" he hissed.

Lorena stirred beside him. She reached out and touched his arm, as if she were afraid he'd vanished. Tom swung his legs off the bed, the floor cold against his socks. He climbed from bed and started for the window, his pulse climbing. He parted the shade and looked outside.
 

What he saw made his body tremble.
 

In the middle of the road, something he couldn't identify—a furred animal, a
creature
—was tearing into one of his neighbors. Tom's blood froze. Whatever the thing was, it was larger than a man.

"Oh, my God…" he whispered.

"What is it?" Lorena breathed from across the room.

"Lorena, get the gun!"

Tom stared out the bedroom window while Lorena ran to the closet. His legs felt rooted in place. The man in the street was Desmond Smith, his neighbor. Desmond was being mangled. His stomach was torn open and he was screaming. The beast had its back turned, but Tom saw bits and pieces of its visage—hands that resembled claws, a gaping maw; a snout larger than any animal he'd ever seen.
 

"Lorena! Hurry!"

Tom lunged for his boots. He frantically put them on. Behind him, Lorena threw the closet door open, rifling through objects to get to the gun. Tom let go of the shade and ran for his wife. He saw her shadowed form making its way back to him. She had the gun. Tom reached out and took it, staving off the panic that filled his stomach. He'd never used it before.
Not for something like this.

Tom clicked off the safety and raced back to the window. Desmond had stopped screaming. His carcass lay motionless in the snow, his remains strewn across the snow-covered street. The creature loped in the other direction, making its way toward Desmond's house. Tom saw flashes of movement through the open doorway. Another creature—identical to the first, only larger—was already inside. A scream erupted from the top floor. Probably Tori Smith, Desmond's wife. Further down the street, another creature burst through a window, spraying glass into the snow.
 

The things were everywhere.

Lorena came up beside him and clasped her hand over her mouth, stifling a scream. Tom spun her away from the window just as a series of bangs erupted from downstairs. He swallowed as he recalled the open garage. It was only a matter of time until one of the things burst into the mudroom, then the kitchen. He didn't even have any idea what
they
were, what might be happening, but he knew he had to react. If he didn't, he and Lorena would die.

"Come on!"
 

He grabbed his cell phone off the nightstand and raced to the bedroom door, glancing frantically around the room. He considered pushing the bureau in front of the door, but the screams outside told him it wouldn't make a difference. The house felt like a cage with four walls, a trap rather than a place of safety.

The basement…

If they could get down there, maybe they could lock themselves in the furnace room. Call the police. The door was sturdy. Maybe he'd push the shelves in front of it.

"Downstairs!" he hissed.

Tom aimed his gun as they crossed the bedroom threshold. He peered down the stairs. The house suddenly felt dark and foreboding,
menacing
. He was suddenly certain one of the things was already inside, waiting to pounce. He kept the lights off. Anything he did might draw their attention.
 

They crept down the stairs one at a time, staring at the front door. Lorena gripped his arm as if she were falling off a ledge, her nails digging into his skin. The glass windows beside the door were frosted with ice. With each step, Tom saw a blurred piece of the street—houses and yards, snow whipping past. When they were halfway down, Tom caught sight of Desmond's body. The man was flat on his back, his carcass covered in gore. His wife, Tori, was sprawled next to him. She was already dead.

One of the creatures must've dragged her outside.

Tom shuddered and took another step, peering right and left up the street. The neighborhood was a replica of similar scenes. Opened doors, shredded bodies.
They're dead
.
All of them.
 

Even without seeing his neighbors, he knew, the same way he'd known Jeremy was dead when the police knocked on his door. And he knew they'd be next if they didn't hurry.

"Come on!" he hissed, urging his wife downstairs.

They'd just reached the landing when something slammed against the front door. Tom and Lorena froze. A fur-covered hand raked the glass. Tom glanced back at the staircase, contemplating running back up to the bedroom. The porch creaked with the weight of the creature. He could sense the thing on the other side of the door, just as he was certain it sensed
him
.

He aimed his gun as a red eye pressed against the glass.

"Stay still," he hissed to Lorena through clenched teeth.

Lorena stiffened next to him; Tom's breath caught in his throat. The creature's breath fogged up the window. Tom saw the glint of teeth, a black, snarled face. After a few seconds, the beast vanished.
 

Where was it?

Tom and Lorena took another step. A roar escaped from the other side of the door—a terrifying, primal sound unlike anything Tom had ever heard.
 

And then the door buckled.

"Go!" he shouted.

They raced from the foyer into the dining room, skirting chairs, passing the dining room table. Tom's boots slipped and slid on the hardwood, as if the house itself was conspiring to kill them. Adrenaline coursed through his body, propelling him faster. He moved by muscle memory alone, darting through the kitchen without the assistance of the lighting, each step enveloping him further in darkness.
 

Behind him, the front door caved.
 

Lorena lost her grasp on his arm, but stayed right beside him as they reached the basement door.

He'd just grabbed hold of the door handle when a window shattered in the den. Lorena screamed. Feet pounded from the rear of the house, crunching over glass.
They're inside! The things are inside!
Tom flung open the basement door and stared into the darkness, ready to forge down into it. But a voice in his head stopped him.
 

Don't go down there.
 

The thought hit him with such force that he reeled backward. They couldn't go down to the basement. If they did, they'd never leave.

"Come on!"

At the last second, Tom changed direction, pulling Lorena with him. Her panicked gasps echoed through the kitchen. He groped the kitchen counter in search of the keys, finding them right next to the microwave where he'd left them. He snagged them as he ran to the mudroom door, clawing at the lock. He'd opened the damned door a million times before, but between the adrenaline and the terror, his fingers felt numb and useless.
Come on!

"Hurry, Tom!"

Something bounded through the kitchen behind them. Tom unlocked the door and flung it open, barreling through it and into the mudroom, Lorena almost toppling him over. Tom spun, trying to pull the door closed. But the creature was already at the threshold, pawing the air. Tom raised the rifle and fired.
 

The blast echoed through the doorway.

The gun shook in his hands; the creature toppled sideways. It slammed against the kitchen counter, scattering several dishes onto the floor. Tom could barely make out its features in the darkness.
 

But it wasn't dead. It kept coming.

"Go!" Tom screamed.
 

They bolted through the next door and into the garage, almost falling down the steps. They were immediately hit with a blast of white. Between the light of the sky and the falling snow, the garage was bathed in an ethereal glow. The generator spat loudly from across the bay. There was just enough room to get the SUV out around it.

"Get in the car!" Tom shouted.

He ran to the driver's door of the SUV and squeezed the unlock button on his keychain. He ripped the door open and leapt inside. As he inserted the key in the ignition, he prayed the vehicle would start. It did.