Werewolf Suspense (Book 2): Outage 2 (The Awakening) (9 page)

The only thing he'd held back was the bite he'd received from Colton.
 

Mark's arm burned with pain. The blood soaked through the bandage. Earlier, he'd used a spare shirt to wrap himself up, hiding the wound under his coat. He hadn't intended to get this close to his companions.
 

The last thing he wanted was to put them in jeopardy.
 

When he'd first seen them out the window, he'd been inspecting his wound with the flashlight, coming to grips with his fate. He hadn't meant to signal them. During the battle with his brother, he'd been bitten. Now, he was as condemned as Colton had been.
 

It was ironic. Mark had spent months denying what his brother told him, only to be cursed himself.
 

His plan had been to use the gun on himself. At least that way, he'd be spared the agony of getting innocent blood on his hands.
 

He'd seen what the guilt had done to Colton.

And then he'd spotted the group out the window, seen the beast coming toward them. Tom, Ashley, and Billy had been attacked so close to the building that he knew he could make a difference. He'd decided to assist them and bring them inside. His hope was to share his story, to keep them safe, and to warn them.
 

When they were safe, he'd ask Tom to end his life. He'd have Tom bury him and Colton together.

But the urges were already kicking in, overriding his senses and his body. Each time Mark tried to speak, the beast inside quieted his tongue, as if it were trying to preserve itself. The moon was like a silent foe.

And now more of the creatures—his brethren, as despicable as they were—were in the building. Even if Mark's fate were determined, he'd do his best to save his companions.
 

His head pounded from fighting the change. Sweat leaked from his brow. He recalled Colton's ramblings. According to his brother, some of the beasts were able to control themselves more than others. Colton had never succeeded in controlling his demons. He'd succumbed to depression and drink.

But maybe Mark could stave off his. Maybe he could keep his companions safe before it was too late.

His heart pounded so hard he thought it would burst from his body. His hands trembled on the rifle. A ripple of pain washed over him, pounding through his skull and extending down his arms and legs. His eyes felt like they were bulging from their sockets. It was only a matter of time until the change consumed him. Then he would be as powerless as Colton was, as condemned as the creatures downstairs.

The moon poured through the windows, spurring on his transformation.

He glanced over at Tom in the semi-darkness, but his companion wasn't looking.

Tom's focus was still on the door.

Ashley huddled in the storage room next to Billy, the smell of the dead body wafting into her nostrils. The room was a sickening mixture of grease, sawdust, and blood. She shined the flashlight around the storage room, taking in the shelving, the ceiling, and the floor.
 

The room was dank and uncomfortable. She'd rather be anywhere else than here.

But hiding out in the room, like most things in life, had become a game of patience. She glanced over at Billy, taking in his soft countenance in the glow of the flashlight, and smiled.

"How'd I do?" she asked.

"Great," he said, smiling back at her. "They have no idea."

He brushed his shaggy hair from his face. She leaned in close and nuzzled his neck. As disgusting as it was to be cooped in the room, surrounded by the blood of their brethren, it was only a matter of time until they succumbed to their true selves.
 

Once Tom and Mark were distracted, she and Billy would make their transformation. They'd spring from the closet and partake in what they'd been waiting for. In truth, Ashley had hoped for a larger crowd. But she'd settle for Mark and Tom. Her main concern was that the others might reach them first.
 

She wanted them for herself.

"Should we go out there?" Ashley asked innocently, batting a playful eye at Billy.

"Give it a minute. Wait until they're good and distracted," Billy said.

She nodded. She trusted Billy. Billy was the most logical of the pair; Ashley tended to be impulsive. If it were up to her, she would've eviscerated Mark and Tom a while ago. In fact, she would've killed Tom in the street when they first met him.
 

Ashley and Billy had killed many times in the past, but always in secret, always in remote areas. They'd never bided their time like this. That was the promise they'd made each other when they encountered Tom—that they'd wait for a better opportunity, hoping he'd lead them to other survivors. Her goal had been to get inside the shelter before turning. That way they'd have a roomful of victims to themselves. But they couldn't wait anymore.

They were going to lose their prey if they didn't act.

Somewhere deep in the building, she heard the snarls of her brethren. Footsteps pounded the last set of stairs and feral cries filled the air. Ashley felt a sensation of warmth, of rightness, in what they were about to do. It was a feeling she'd had ever since the storm started. It was a feeling she could get used to.
 

They'd all known the storm was coming. It was as ingrained in the beasts as the need to kill. But none of them knew the exact timing. Until a few hours ago, it was nothing more than a feeling in her bones, an instinct as primal as the phases of the moon or the chill of winter. A few of their kind had even moved north in anticipation.

And now the storm was upon them.
 

She looked up at Billy, admiring how far they'd come. She was so glad they'd found each other. They'd learned to control their urges over the past few years together.

They'd started with Billy's parents.
 

Dave and Sherry were always trying to keep them apart, restricting their time together, limiting their interactions. And so she and Billy had lured them out into the woods a few summers ago. When they were far enough into the wilderness, Billy and Ashley had changed, killing them and disposing of their remains.
 

Ever since, she and Billy had been inseparable.

It was moments like that one that made her feel invincible.
 

Moments like that, and the one they were about to have.

"You ready?" she asked Billy.

"You bet." He smiled.

She sucked in a breath, recalling the guns Mark and Tom had. They'd have to surprise them. But that wouldn't be an issue. Not as long as she and Billy were together. They'd get through it, like they'd gotten through everything else.
 

She and Billy held hands as they started to change.
 

Tom listened to the clatter and chaos from the ground floor of the building. The creatures scraped at walls and overturned objects. Tom imagined them falling over each other like animals in a pet shop cage, fighting for scraps, the weakest among them destined to die. But he knew that was far from the case.

None of the things were weak, and if anyone was destined to die, it was he and his companions.

He gripped the gun with anxious hands. He felt like an inmate on death row, waiting for the final walk. Animal footsteps hit the stairs below. Nails clicked on the cement. He imagined the things loping on four legs, using all their limbs to make the climb. He recalled what Mark had said earlier. There were two floors below them. His last, frantic hope was that somehow the creatures would get hung up or distracted, that they'd never make it to where they were hiding.
 

He knew the chances of that were nonexistent.
 

The creatures had gotten into the building; it wouldn't take them long to knock down less fortified entrances. Besides, they probably smelled them.

Pounding ensued on one of the doors below them. Claws scratched wood. Creatures snarled in savage, intermittent bursts. The creatures were on the second floor landing. For a moment, Tom imagined that the beasts were on the hunt for someone else, and he was merely eavesdropping. It was hard to imagine he and his companions were the targets. He prayed the lower door would hold, if for no other reason than to buy him time.

The door burst open, crashing against the inner wall. The beasts tore through the room below them. More feet pounded on the bottom stairs, a swath of creatures joining the others. The noises were louder and more amplified than before.
They're right below us. Sniffing us out.

Tom looked down, as if a set of claws might burst through the floorboards and pull him under. He looked over at Mark. Mark's body shook; he looked panicked and wild. After a few chaotic seconds, the noises changed direction, heading back for the stairs.

The creatures mounted the last flight.
 

Tom swiveled back to the door, staring at the machines and boxes in front of them as if to double the barricade's weight and size.
 

Inhuman feet scratched the staircase. And then the first, raging claw pounded against the wood fifteen feet away. The noise sent shards of fear through Tom's body. The pounding was so incessant, the growls so loud, that for a moment Tom thought the beasts were already inside the room with them. He recalled Billy and Ashley, hiding in the storage room.
Maybe they'll survive.
 

Maybe they have a chance, at least
.

He pointed his weapon at the door, keeping a steady aim. His rifle felt small and insignificant. Wood splintered. One of the machines groaned.
 

Tom's finger shook on the trigger, begging him to fire, but he held onto his bullets as if he were holding onto his last breath of air. Once he started shooting, Tom knew he wouldn't be able to stop. The beasts would keep coming, and he'd fire until he was out of ammunition, out of breath, or both.

A loud crack split the air. It sounded like the creatures were already inside. It took a second for Tom to realize the noise wasn't coming from in front of him, but from behind.
 

He spun to find the storage room door open.

The flashlight—Ashley's flashlight—spun in circles on the floor, illuminating two shadows that were emerging from the darkness. In the intermittent light, he caught glimpses of the couple they'd left behind.

Only the couple wasn't the couple anymore. It was two of
them
.
 

Billy and Ashley were changing, their shapes twisting and transforming, flesh becoming fur. In a matter of seconds, their faces went from human to animal, noses elongating into snouts, teeth enlarging. Ashley—or the beast that had formerly been the girl—took a few staggering steps forward, closing the gap between them.

"Mark! Look out!" Tom shouted.

He spun and made a grab for his companion. Only Mark wasn't Mark anymore, either.

Mark had changed, too.

Tom dove for the far side of the room. His heart beat like a jackhammer. He got to his knees, took several frantic steps back, and fired his rifle. He wasn't even sure what he was aiming at anymore. The bullet struck the far side of the room, its path indiscernible. The creatures were coming too fast.

Holy shit, I can't believe Billy, Ashley, and Mark all turned…

I can't believe I'm alone…

But there was no time to process the surprise, only time to react. Tom ran further, searching desperately for cover. The room was bathed in an ethereal white glow. He located a machine and scrambled behind it, sticking his gun out the side. One of the creatures bashed against the other side. The machine inched backward, and Tom scrambled to move with it.

The beast hurled itself against the machine again, forcing it backward, sending Tom reeling into a pile of nails and tools. He couldn't see what he was stepping on, but he knew enough not to fall. One of the machine's wheels dug into his ankles, and a spark of pain shot up his leg. He cried out and fell backward, hitting the wall with a thud. The creature growled. It leapt on top of the machine. He saw its gaping maw in the glow of the moonlight. It swiped for his face; he ducked to avoid its claw.
 

A howl pierced the air.

Another beast collided with the one on top of the machine, taking it to the ground. Was it Mark? The two of them fell, tangled in a flurry of limbs. Tom couldn't even tell who was who anymore. He'd lost track. In just a minute, Tom had gone from a roomful of companions to a roomful of beasts, and for the second time that night, he was confused and alone.

The two beasts clawed and spat, fighting each other in a rage. They slammed into the machine again and rolled in another direction, sending tools and equipment tumbling to the floor. Were they fighting over
him
? Tom sank lower in his perch, trying to make himself invisible. His only hope was to ride out the nightmare.

His chances of survival were slim. Even if the beasts destroyed each other, there were still the creatures pounding on the door. Sooner or later, the room would be overrun.

The third creature flew past the other side of the machine. Tom thrust his gun over the top and fired again. The bullet glanced off something on the far side of the room. He had no idea what he'd hit. Between the shock and his nerves, his aim was awful. He waited for the thing to come after him.

Only it wasn't coming for him. It was racing toward the others.

Across the room, the fighting continued. The two beasts ripped at each other, punctuating the air with cries and growls. They slammed against the walls, shaking the room and adding to the compendium of noise.
 

The pounding on the door continued.

The gunshots might as well have been bait for the beasts on the other side, luring the remainder of the things in. It was only a matter of time until the door caved.

Tom regrouped behind the machine, clutching his weapon. The third beast had immersed itself in the ensuing battle. It sounded like all three were in a vicious tangle, intent on shredding each other to death. Tom wasn't certain what was going on, but whatever it was had bought him time.