Werewolf Suspense (Book 4): Outage 4 (The Reckoning) (5 page)

Tom needed to find cover. He needed to distract the thing.

"Get in one of the rooms! Shut the door!" he shouted at Silas, hoping the boy would heed his words. All at once, Silas ducked into a distant room and slammed the door, his whimpering cut short by the barrier between them.

Tom darted down another hallway, leading the creature away. The creature's breathing was so loud that he was surprised it wasn't already clawing his back. Tom's throat burned as he searched for a place to hide. He reached a doorway, bashed into the frame with his shoulder, and scooted across the threshold.
 

All at once, he was blind to the room around him.

He tripped over an invisible chair, falling to his knees. Fiery pain tore through his wounded leg as he spun to make sense of his new surroundings. Claws scratched the doorway he'd just come through.

The room was large. Much larger than the hallway.
 

It was also pitch black.

Stripped of his vision, Tom's only sense of space was provided by his echoing breath. He pushed himself to his knees, his gown billowing behind him, feeling naked and vulnerable and
desperate
.
He ran. The creature cast aside the chair, smashing it against the wall. Tom collided with something but kept running, dispelling the gruesome thought that he'd trip and impale himself.

Perhaps death by the axe would be better than being ripped apart and eaten.
 

Tom's boots rolled over something crunchy. A light crackled overhead. Whether it was motion-activated or not, Tom didn't know, but suddenly the room came into focus: a salad bar in the center, shelves of dry goods against the far wall, cereal underfoot.
 

He was in the cafeteria.
 

He skated across the spilled food, avoiding the salad bar, grateful that he saw it before he plowed into it. He groped the edge of the salad bar and gained purchase. The seating area of the cafeteria was ahead. He ran for it, his only thought to get to a clear space, a room where he could maneuver.
 

He had to defend himself. He couldn't hide.

Not anymore.
 

The beast was almost on him.
 

That knowledge sparked another burst of adrenaline. Claws ripped at his gown, shredding the fabric, and Tom felt the hot breath of the creature on his neck.
 

With a shudder, he wondered if he'd ever get to the next room, after all.

Abraham swallowed a string of emotions as he returned to the hospital room. With the nurses' help, he'd searched the whole floor, but hadn't found Silas. His initial guess had been correct.
 

Silas was somewhere downstairs.

Abraham couldn't help blaming himself. It was his fault Silas was missing. If Abraham hadn't stepped out into the hall with Tom, he might've stopped Silas from slipping off. He might've noticed the boy getting on the elevator. Or going down the stairs.

If something happened to either Tom or Silas, he'd never forgive himself.
 

Pushing those feelings aside, Abraham collected his nerves and shut the hospital room door behind him. Sally and Katherine were waiting for him. In their hands were scalpels and scissors the nurses had given them. The nurses had scoured the floor for weapons, passing them out to the frightened survivors. Everyone knew what was happening.
 

No one thought it was a drill anymore.
 

Abraham clutched a screwdriver in his sweaty fist, steeling himself to use it.

"Abraham!" Sally said, hurrying over to greet him. "No sign of Silas?"

Abraham shook his head resignedly. "I searched the whole floor again. He must be downstairs."

Katherine's face sank. Sally returned to the girl and hugged her tightly. "We'll find him," she whispered to Katherine. "I'm sure Tom will bring him back."

"I hope so," Katherine said.
 

"What do we do in the meantime?" Sally asked Abraham.

"They're telling us to stay locked in our rooms. No one is to come out until we're told."

Sally walked back over to Abraham. Looking over her shoulder to ensure Katherine wasn't listening, she said, "Something else worries me."

"What is it?" Abraham frowned, studying his wife.

"Tom's injury. The one he received last night." Sally studied Abraham. "Are we sure it wasn't from a bite?"

The wind left Abraham's stomach. "He said his leg was cut on glass. But we never got a look at it. He seemed pretty guarded about it…" He shook his head as uncertainty set in. "God help us if that's the case. Especially now that he's off in search of Silas."

Abraham didn't need to say anything further. The worry in Sally's eyes mirrored his own. He stared over at Katherine, who was on the bed watching them.
 

"It's all right, Katherine. Everything's going to be fine." Abraham looked around the room. "I'm going to see if I can block the door somehow. Keep us safe."

The murmur of panicked conversation wafted through the walls as Abraham wedged a chair underneath the door, wishing he had something better to defend them with. He needed to protect Katherine and Sally. He'd already lost track of Silas.

He returned to the bed and joined them. They remained in frightened silence, listening to muffled conversations and the sound of nurses' footsteps in the hallway.

With little else to do but wait, Abraham's thoughts wandered to his family overseas—his daughter, son-in-law, and grandson. A few nights ago, Sally had found some of his daughter's old toys and baby clothes. Abraham had planned to show them to Olivia when she visited from London. He wondered if he'd ever get the chance.

He couldn't fathom surviving another night. Not like the last one.
 

Sally broke his pensive mood.
 

"Did you hear that?" she asked.
 

Sally pointed at the window. Abraham, Sally, and Katherine stood and walked over to the glass to see what she'd heard. When they reached the windowpane, they leaned over the heater and cupped their hands over their eyes. Through the window, Abraham saw snow cascading over the parking lot.

He saw something else, too.

Pulled up to the front of the building were a police cruiser and a school bus. It looked like they'd just arrived. The police officer was on the radio, one hand folded over the steering wheel. The school bus driver had turned the lights on, illuminating the adult passengers. The bus was full of people—faces pressed to windows, fingers pointing at the building.
 

Abraham felt a surge of hope.
 

"A police officer," he said excitedly. "And survivors."

That hope was followed by a surge of dread.
They must not know about the beasts
. A few passengers were collecting their things, preparing to disembark. Abraham's eyes shot to the front of the building, looking for police officers' bodies.

The bodies were gone.

The creatures must've dragged them off.
 

Abraham scoured the snow for tracks, but between the poor lighting and the snow, he couldn't find them. The storm had covered up the evidence, hiding signs of danger. He needed to warn the people outside.

"They don't know what's going on…" Sally said shakily beside him. "Do you see their faces? They're ready to get out. They don't know…"

"We need to warn them!"

Sally pounded on the glass.
 

Abraham reached for the latch on the window. Unlocking it, he realized it only opened a few inches.
Dammit. A hospital precaution.
But at the moment, it would do more harm than good. He shouted through the opening, frantically trying to get the peoples' attention.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Stay in the bus! Stay in the cruiser!"

Sally joined in with the yelling. Katherine peered out the window. "I don't see my parents…where are they?"

Sally put out a protective arm. "Stay back, honey. It'll be all right."

"Up here!" Abraham screamed, louder.

The people studied the building. None looked up. Abraham felt powerless and invisible, as if no sound were coming out of his mouth. But he knew that wasn't true. He could hear Sally's voice as clearly as his own, her high-pitched yelling just as panicked as his. The swell of the wind and the noise of the bus engine drowned them out.

The officer glanced in all directions, then rolled down the window. He motioned to the bus driver, and the bus driver poked his head out and waved back, mouthing words Abraham couldn't hear.

"Call for help!" Abraham yelled.
 

Both the officer and the bus driver ducked back inside, closing their respective windows. Maybe they were leaving. Abraham hung his thoughts on that hope as he grabbed his wife's arm. That hope was deflated when the officer opened the cruiser door and got out of the cruiser.

"No!" Abraham screamed at the top of his lungs.

The officer disembarked, tilting his hat. He'd only taken a single step when a dark figure whipped from the shadows and tackled him to the ground.

Tom ripped free of the creature's claws, darting into the eating area. His breathing came in panicked gasps. He contemplated spinning and using his axe, but the creature would be on him before he could swing. He needed more room. More distance. He tore over the large threshold between rooms, fighting for traction over spilled foods and curdled drinks. The cafeteria stank of sour milk, blood, and the remains of people who hadn't lasted as long as he had.
 

Proof of that was all over the room.

Bodies were slumped over tables, heads bowed in piles of uneaten food. One man had a gaping hole in his back, his arms torn off. It looked like the diners had been taken by surprise, pounced on before they had a chance to defend themselves.
 

Tom ran faster, weaving between tables and chairs. He cried as he stepped over a fallen body, the victim facedown and half-eaten. He threw a chair behind him—anything to slow the beast down.
 

He was halfway across the room when he realized his new plight.

There were no other exits from the eating area. Aside from a row of windows along the wall and a set of bathroom doors, there was no way out. The creature was so close he could smell its musk. Tom skirted behind a circular table, putting it between him and the beast, and then spun and hoisted his axe.

The beast barreled into the table without stopping, sending it sliding into Tom. Tom threw his hands up to stop it, crying out as his fingers bent back improperly. He stepped around the table, trying to run around it and the beast.

But the creature wouldn't allow it.

The beast mimicked his movements. It shook its mane in a display of authority, arching its back and raising its claws. Tom gripped the axe and took a step back. He raised it until his arms could reach no higher, prepared for a sideways, two-handed swing. His action was both a warning and a declaration of intent. He wasn't going to give up until either he or the creature was dead.

"Run, Silas! Wherever you are, run as fast as you can!" he shouted.

He prayed the boy could hear him; that he was far from the unfolding scene. The beast reared its head, piercing him with glowing eyes.
 

And then it swiped the table again.

The table flew back again, bashing into Tom and sending him careening to the floor. All at once, the table was upside down and on top of him. The tabletop threatened to crush his ribs, robbing him of air. He fought to wriggle from underneath it, but the creature leapt on top, clawing at him from around the tabletop. Remarkably, Tom still held the axe. He refused to let it go. It was his lifeline, his last hope at survival.

Using his feet and his elbows, Tom pushed as hard as he was able, managing to slide from underneath the table and through a puddle of blood and food. The table crashed against the floor. Tom wormed his way backwards and underneath another table—an upright one—and squirmed around the center pole, his elbows grinding the floor.
 

The creature leapt after him. It clawed the remnants off the second tabletop, sending Styrofoam trays and milk cartons and soda cans raining down around him. Tom continued crawling backward on boots and elbows, skidding through remnants of food and people and out from under it. The creature loped after him. He cried out as he cleared the second table and hit the wall. He couldn't go any farther.

The creature hovered over him, dripping saliva. Tom propped himself up on one elbow, raised the axe, and swung. The creature batted at him.

Axe cleaved flesh. Blood spurted into the air. Tom spat out a mouthful of rancid fluid. He wiped his face clean to see what he'd hit. The creature brayed and leapt back, writhing. Its left hand was gone. Not cut, but
missing
.
 

The beast roared, waving its truncated limb. The confusion of its injury had put the thing into a frenzy. It brayed and knocked over tables and food as it staggered around, trying to make sense of what had happened.

Seizing the opportunity, Tom leapt to his feet. He chased the wounded beast, rearing the bloodied axe. He swung again. This time, he put the full weight of his body into the blow. The beast held up its stump to protect itself, but it misjudged its defensive ability and its missing appendage. The blade cleaved its neck. The beast dropped to its knees, pawing at the wound. Tom reared back and swung again, then again, hacking at the creature's head until it gave way to gravity and tumbled.

The beast's headless body spewed blood and went still.
 

Tom vomited.

The cafeteria was quiet, save Tom's ragged breathing. He stared at the creature for several seconds, not quite believing that it was dead.
 

Abraham watched out the window as another creature descended on the police officer, joining the first to feast on the man's kicking body. The officer struggled and screamed, his weapon lost in the nearby snow. He attempted to roll, but the beasts had him pinned. Soon, all his efforts stopped. What was once a moving, breathing person was now a mound of pulpy flesh.