Werewolf Suspense (Book 4): Outage 4 (The Reckoning) (6 page)

The occupants of the school bus burst into screams and panic, hands slapping windows, faces agape. Without hesitation, the driver reversed, peeling away in a burst of snow and screeching tires.

The beasts loped after it, cutting through the snow.

Abraham stared out the window in horror. He heard someone screaming in the room with him. It took him a second to realize it was Sally. They embraced each other as they watched the bus tear off across the parking lot. Katherine stood several feet behind them, sobbing. The bus rolled out of sight.

Sally stopped screaming. Despite her silence, Abraham heard the yells of other survivors in the adjacent rooms, picking up where she left off. He pictured other faces pressed against hospital windows, watching the scene outside in terror.
 

Abraham tried to figure out their next move. The grisly death of the police officer was a reminder that they were next. The walls and doors of the hospital were only temporary barriers.

"Did the others get away…?" Katherine asked, her voice cracking.

"Yes, they did, honey," Abraham reassured her.

The words did little to restore the girl's confidence. The beasts would either catch up to the school bus or they wouldn't, but that wouldn't stop them from returning to the hospital.
 

"I wish Silas were here," Katherine whispered, her gaze wandering to the door. "And Tom."

"I'm sure they'll be back soon," Abraham said. He held onto Katherine, thinking of his own grandchildren, and of other people who might be out in the cold, stripped of their relatives and places of warmth.
 

It could be worse,
he tried telling himself.

Still, he wasn't sure how.

How long did they have before the beasts came to get them?

A particularly loud scream ripped Abraham from thought. The yelling he'd heard before spilled out into the hallway. Maybe he'd been mistaken. Maybe the people hadn't been reacting to what they'd seen outside, but something
within
.
 

Snarls confirmed his worst fears. Abraham didn't need to see through the door to know the creatures were in the hallway.

The third floor had been overrun.

Tom tore his attention away from the headless creature he'd killed in the cafeteria.
 

Silas.

The little boy's name hit Tom like a blow to the stomach. He veered across the room, the creature's blood dripping off him like evidence. Having killed one creature, he vowed to kill as many as he had to until he reached the boy. He clutched the axe.

They might be able to heal, but not if you cut off their limbs…

At least he knew he it was possible to kill them without silver.

Tom fled the eating area and entered the main room with the salad bar. Dim lights crackled above him. Soon, he was peering into the corridor, searching for Silas. He looked left and right, vowing not to let one of the beasts surprise him.

Satisfied the hallway was empty, he crept into it, backtracking to the door into which Silas had ducked. The door was open.
 

"Silas?"
 

A cold fear took root in Tom's stomach as he saw the gaping threshold. Where had the boy gone? He swallowed as he peered through the opening, searching for evidence of Silas's occupancy. The room was dark and cold, laced with the sterile odor of hospital cleaning supplies. It was a janitor's closet. Brooms and mops hung against the wall. Several empty buckets were stacked in the corner.

Tom's pulse thudded frantically behind his ears.

He called Silas's name again, hoping the boy was in hiding. The lack of an answer sent Tom's thoughts spinning in numerous directions, none of them good. If another creature had been down here…

But he hadn't heard screams. He let that thought comfort him as he surveyed the janitor's closet.
 

Spotting nothing else he could use—at least, nothing better than an axe—Tom reentered the hallway. He scoured the doors, looking for an open doorway. The floor was a sticky mess of footprints, but it was impossible to discern whose. The hallway reeked of blood, musk, and remains, adding to the stench on his clothing and hands.
 

He called out again. "Silas?"
 

No answer.

And then he heard something. A moan.

The noise made him bristle. Tom increased his pace, heading toward it, his stomach tangled in knots. He followed the trail of sound until it culminated in a large room. Ducking inside, he smelled fabric softener and laundry detergent, and saw several commercial machines lining the wall. Large, gray bins spanned the length of the floor. A dim light flickered from somewhere in the back, providing just enough detail to see his surroundings.

The source of the noise was here. It was human.

Tom called out again, cringing at the sound of his voice. He needed to find whoever was here, wherever they were. The person let out a winded gurgle. It took him another second to determine where the noise originated.

It was coming from the laundry bins.
 

Gripping his axe tight, Tom poked his head into each of the industrial laundry bins until he found what he was looking for. A heavyset woman was sprawled on top of a pile of clothing, her blood soaking the towels and sheets. Her neck was cranked at an irregular angle; her arms hung limp at her sides. Her stomach had been sliced open. It appeared she'd managed to topple into the bin before bleeding out, perhaps seeking a last place of refuge.

"I'll get you out of here," he promised her.

The woman's blonde hair was plastered over her face. Her sallow, listless eyes rolled to meet his. She gave him a small, but encouraging, nod.
 

"There are nurses upstairs," he reassured her. "They can help you."

He convinced himself she had a chance.

If he could get her help
.
If he could find Silas…

Staring at the woman's blood-drenched wound, Tom grabbed one of the towels and tamped it. He was hardly trained in medical procedures, but he had to do something.

"Can you hold this to your stomach?" he asked her.

He guided her hands over the wound. To his surprise, the woman was able to press down. Tom tested the weight of the bin, realizing he could roll it. Still holding his axe, he maneuvered around the other bins and toward the door.
 

He listened for beasts.
 

The elevator was a few corridors away. If he could get her inside it, he'd leave her and find Silas. He'd bring them both to the third floor. He'd get them to safety. Just a moment ago, he'd been certain the floor was empty. The woman must've been overlooked by the police officers that'd searched the floor earlier.

Wheeling the bin into the hallway, Tom gained momentum, cruising over the blood-drenched linoleum. If he could save one or two people, maybe he could forgive himself for not saving Lorena.

It was an equation that didn't add up, but one he told himself as he jogged down the hallway, pushing the bin and the injured woman, searching for Silas. He kept his eyes peeled to the doorways, calling out for the boy. The need for quiet had been usurped by the need for urgent help. He spotted the elevator in the distance.
 

The doors were closed.
 

Please let the car be here
. In his desperation to get to Silas, Tom hadn't blocked the sensors. What if someone—a frightened survivor, or Abraham—had called the elevator upstairs? Without access to it, Tom would be forced to find some other way to get the injured woman upstairs. He doubted he could carry her, given the distance and seriousness of her injury. He rolled the bin to a stop, saying a silent prayer as he jabbed the button. To his relief, the elevator doors cranked open. The car hadn't moved.

Crouched inside the elevator, a knife clutched to his chest, was Silas.

Abraham grabbed hold of Sally and Katherine as snarls continued from the hallway. He gripped the screwdriver. They listened in terrified silence as the beasts rampaged the hall. Screams and growls permeated the air. Objects battered walls. Hearing the noise was almost as bad as seeing the violence—it meant that Abraham couldn't help the other survivors, and even more terrifying, that he, his wife, and Katherine were next.
 

He met Sally's panic-stricken eyes. He didn't need forty years of marriage to read the meaning behind her stare. If they remained quiet, maybe the creatures would leave them alone. Maybe they would have a chance at survival.
 

His gaze wandered across the room to the chair propped underneath the door handle. He needed to reinforce it. He looked around the room. The place was bare, save some built-in cabinets and drawers and the bed he was sitting on.

A violent bang shook the entrance. Sally and Katherine cried out in fright, quickly stifling themselves. Fingernails scraped the other side of the door; a man's voice bellowed for help. The man's cries were cut short by a guttural snarl. Abraham heard the slap of what could only be gums against flesh, a maw buried in a dead man's gut.
 

Oh, God…

Abraham placed himself in front of Sally and Katherine, waiting for the moment when the creature realized they were here and battered down the door. A distant scream echoed down the hall, followed by the thud of a body. The beasts were seeking out the survivors a room at a time. The hospital had become a repository for flesh, a stocked preserve of human game.
 

The chewing sounds on the other side of the door seemed to go on forever. Abraham could only hope the victim was already dead, oblivious to being consumed.
 

He needed to do something.

Could he move the bed? He inched away from Sally and Katherine. Sally shook her head, mouthing the word "no" when she saw what he had in store. But Abraham needed to try. In moments, the beast would finish its meal and move on to
them
.
He let go of Sally and Katherine and inspected the bed's wheels. He needed to unlock them. He needed to roll it.

A loud snort from a creature in the hall made Sally and Katherine jump. Abraham pointed to the cabinets in the wall. The lowest cabinet, at floor level, was about the size of a little girl.
 

"Help Katherine inside! I'll move the bed!" Abraham whispered to Sally.

Sally collected Katherine and led her across the room as the beast's sickening, slurping sounds bled through the door. Abraham bent down and unlocked the first two wheels of the bed.

Sally finished helping a scared Katherine into the cabinet. The girl curled her knees to her chest. Abraham caught a final glimpse of Katherine's terrified eyes as she was shut inside. In that moment, she looked much younger than eleven years old.
 

Abraham unlocked the third wheel and moved to the last one. But there was a problem. The lever was stuck. Sally hunkered next to him, frantically offering assistance.
 

Come on!
He wanted to scream.
 

They fumbled with the rigid piece of metal.

The beast had stopped consuming the man on the other side of the door. It chuffed and sniffed the air. Another scream erupted from close by. Abraham had the sudden, selfish thought that another survivor would preoccupy the beast, giving them time to unlock the bed. But that didn't happen.

The beast rattled the door, whining and growling. The chair rose and fell with a bang. The noise prompted a cry from Katherine behind the cabinet door. Abraham held up his hands, as if she might quiet down, even though she couldn't see him. He pictured the girl sobbing and clutching her knees, willing herself to disappear. He stared desperately at the chair underneath the door, praying it'd remain in place. He stayed stock-still. The beast pawed the door, testing the weight. Abraham swallowed. Sweat poured from his brow. If they could stay quiet enough, maybe they'd—

The door shook harder.

Sally grabbed his arm. "Get the last wheel!" she cried.
 

With a tug and a grunt, Abraham and Sally pulled as hard as they could, unlocking the wheel with a snap. Frantically, they pushed the bed toward the door.

The next bang was the sound of the door flying open. The chair clattered across the room, smashing into a wall. The beast's massive frame filled the threshold.
 

The thing was taller than the doorway. Its body was covered in gore; remains dripped from its claws. It ducked inside the room, rose to full height, and surveyed Abraham and Sally, stepping over the carcass it had devoured. Its mouth hung open, displaying a row of pointed teeth.

Sally screamed. Abraham clutched his wife.

Abraham's gaze involuntarily fell to the victim at the doorway. The man had been torn apart at the midsection. His chewed legs were separated from his torso, his mouth stuck open in a dying scream. Abraham clutched the screwdriver.

The beast watched them. Abraham stared at the creature for a split second, torn between moving, fighting, or staying still. At the last second, he devised a plan.

"Lift the bed!" he screamed to Sally.

Whether it was the urgency in his voice or the sight of the creature, Abraham wasn't sure, but Sally sprang to action. Abraham dropped the screwdriver. They overturned the bed, getting it into the air as the creature pounced.

All at once, Abraham, Sally, and the bed slid back against the radiator. Abraham felt a brief, oppressive weight, and then heard the sound of shattering glass as the beast flew over them and crashed through the window.
 

Its shriek echoed into the night as it plunged three stories and to the ground.
 

Looking next to him to ensure Sally was all right, Abraham said a silent prayer.

We're still alive
, he thought incredulously.
We're still alive.