Werewolf Suspense (Book 1): Outage (6 page)

Rob's probably dead right now.
 

Stop it. Don't think that way.

The snow slid into her boots, creeping around her socks and skin, and the wind whipped at her cheeks. She ran faster, certain that hands would appear and grab her, but she continued unimpeded.
 

She was almost at the front door when she heard a muffled cry from behind her. Abby spun, her eyes darting to the Pierces' driveway. The sound was coming from their backyard.

"Rob!" she screamed.

No answer.

She turned back to her house. She needed to call the police. But what if Rob died before they arrived? What if she could help her husband
now
?

Dammit…what do I do…?

The cry rang out again, fainter this time. Swallowing her fear, she changed direction and raced for the Pierces' property. She wasn't sure what she could do, but she had to do
something
.
She couldn't let her husband die. Her heart beat in a frantic rhythm. She tried calling for Rob again, but her voice was weak and winded, and she could barely produce a sound.

She charged up the Pierces' driveway.

She could see more evidence of Rob's whereabouts now—intermittent splotches of his blood in the snow heading toward the backyard. In her panic, she must've missed them. There were footprints, as well, but it was impossible to tell whose or how many.

She followed the tracks, her boots twisting sideways on the snow-covered ground, surveying the area with frantic eyes. Soon she'd reached the edge of the house. Still no Rob. If she didn't find him soon, she'd head back to her house and call the police. But she had to check. She had to see where the noise had originated.
 

She couldn't leave him out here to die.
 

The backyard slowly revealed itself to her. As she reached the end of the driveway, she saw the tree line, the Pierces' snow-covered shed, and then the deck.
 

Then she saw the body in the middle of the yard.

Rob's clothing was gone—torn off and missing. His chest cavity was open and exposed, his ribs jutting out from the center. His face was caved in. Destroyed. She couldn't even make out where his beard ended and his neck began…

My husband…

She clasped her hand over her mouth, her eyes roaming to the thing above him.

Something was crouched over him, feasting on his remains.

Abby didn't even realize she was running until she was halfway across the snow-covered street. The snow hit her face like pellets, cutting into her cold skin, and her eyes watered from the sting.

Something was behind her, and whatever it was wasn't human.

She'd barely gotten a glimpse of it before her legs had started moving. And yet the sight of it was already imprinted on her brain.
 

The animal—
thing
—was the size of a man, but its body was covered in coarse dark hair. When it'd caught sight of her, it'd sniffed the air, eyes blazing, then loped toward her on two legs.

That's when she'd run.
 

And now she could feel it behind her as she closed the gap between her and the front door. She kept her eyes glued to the doorway, as if the blue-painted door were a portal to safety. She could hear the thing snorting behind her, breathing through a nose too long to be human, and her heart felt like it was going to burst.

What the fuck was it? What the hell was going on?

There was no time to sort through her feelings, no time to reconcile what she'd seen. Whatever it was, something was behind her, and she knew that stopping would mean death. The thing was ready to tear into her, to rend her limb from limb, just like it'd done to Rob minutes earlier.
 

Rob is dead oh my God…

She dashed up the single stair leading to the front door, her boots sliding on a conglomeration of ice and snow, and crashed against the frame. The key. She needed the key. Her hands fumbled in the pocket of her sweatpants, where she'd stashed her keychain.
 

Something snarled behind her.
Hurry! Dammit! Hurry!

She had no idea why it hadn't reached her yet, but she knew better than to look. A second's delay would mean the end. Suddenly the key was in her hand and she was sliding it into the cold metal lock, her gloved hands barely able to coordinate with each other. She bashed her thumb against the knob and pushed. The door gave way, and Abby tumbled inside. She spun, and as she slammed the door shut, she caught one last glimpse of the thing behind her.

Eyes red. Snout pointed skyward. Waiting for her.

She engaged the lock and sank to her knees against the door. Sobs burst from her mouth like water from a broken dam. She pressed her hands against her face, unable to hold back the sound. Her husband was outside. Dead. And she was next.

Even though Abby had gotten inside, the thin door had only bought her a measure of time. She had no doubts that the thing would be coming for her. She needed to pull herself together. She needed to call for help.

She wiped the tears from her cheeks, her eyes still bleary. The house was dark and cold. She pulled herself to her feet. Her coat rustled against the single windowpane in the front door, and she jumped at the sound. Was the thing still out there? She swallowed the lump in her throat, wanting nothing more than to climb the stairs in front of her.
 

But she had to look. She had to.

Abby could feel the blood pulsing through her neck. She turned, propping her gloved hands against the door. Her fingers felt numb and detached, and so did her brain. She peered through the pane and held her breath.

The yard was empty. She could still see the Civic in the road. The hood and roof were spackled white, the windows misted. Rob's blood still stained the snow.

Bile crept up Abby's esophagus. It was her fault. She'd done this. She'd let her husband go off alone.

She sank to her knees, fighting off alternating waves of guilt and sickness. Her legs felt like rubber, and she couldn't fathom moving.

But she had to.
 

Or she'd be next.

She needed to call for help.
The landline
.

Abby turned and mounted the stairs, her legs unsteady. When she reached the kitchen, she snatched the receiver from the wall and jabbed the power button. But there was no dial tone. She mashed all the buttons, plugged and unplugged the cord. It was no use. The line was dead. Probably disabled by the storm.

No. Dammit. No.

Frantic, she patted the pocket of her sweatpants, searching for her cellphone, but it wasn't there. It must have fallen out.
Probably while I was running.
Rob would've had his cellphone on him.

It was as if every option available to her had been eliminated. The only way to get help was to go back out
there
, where the thing was waiting for her.

She crept over to the living room window, heart knocking.

Through the windowpane, she could see the snow still bursting from the sky, as if intent on burying her inside. She had the sudden vision of the house encased in snow with the windows pasted shut, and she swallowed.
 

She scanned the front of the house for the creature's tracks—some evidence that it had been there—but couldn't discern much through the storm. Rob's blood already held a thin coating of snow. If it weren't for the pink splotches, she might be able to convince herself that all of this was a nightmare, a hallucination. She'd give anything for this all to go away, for her to wake up and discover it'd been a dream.

But she knew it wasn't.
 

She scrambled across the room and back to the kitchen, her mind racing. As she did so, she felt the sudden urge to keep quiet. Even though the thing knew she was inside, she had the sudden, irrational sense that she could escape detection. If she stayed silent, it would go away. Right?

She crept along the counter.

Something flashed by the kitchen window, and she ducked next to the sink. She squinted into the backyard. The deck and property were exactly as she remembered them—covered in snow. No sign of the creature.
 

But it was out there. Probably circling the house.

She slid open one of the kitchen drawers.

No matter what happened next, she needed a weapon. A way to defend herself.
 

Her hands shook as she dug through the utensils: a whisk, a wooden spoon, and the beaters for a mixer. Finally she located a large kitchen knife, and she pulled it out and wielded it in front of her. The pale light of the windows glinted off the blade, and she fought the sick feeling in her gut. Abby had never killed anything before.
 

She was a goddamn vegetarian, for Christ's sake.
 

But the thing outside wasn't. Whatever it was, she knew that much. It'd already devoured Rob, and she was next. Her body shimmered with fear. Just minutes ago, she'd been in the house with her husband, making plans to go to the hotel. They were going to get warm and get some sleep, and they were going to forget all about this snowstorm.

How could this have happened so fast? How could the world have spiraled out of control in just a few hours?

She closed the kitchen drawer. She was about to peer out the window again when a crash emanated from downstairs.
 

Abby went stock-still. Her hands shook on the knife. She heard the sprinkle of glass on cement, then the sound of feet hitting the floor.

Ohmygod…
 

It's in here. It's coming for me.

She lunged for the back door, but quickly stopped herself. The creature had entered through one of the back windows; if she went out that way, she'd be in close proximity to it. Instead, she padded into the living room, scanning for places to hide. Her mind flitted from one room to the next, picturing the places she could go: the closet, the bathroom, the attic…

Where should I go?

Downstairs, a piece of furniture clattered against the wall. Her heart leapt like a springboard. She couldn't stay here. It wasn't safe. She needed to get out of the house.

Her cellphone was somewhere outside.
 

Go, Abby, go.

She crossed back into the living room, grabbing one last peek out the front window. The scene was unchanged.

She leapt down the stairs, balancing the need to be quiet with the need to move. When she reached the landing, she twisted the door lock. She could hear the beast breathing downstairs below her, moving through the basement. The path to the Pierces' backyard was straight—about a few hundred feet or so. If she could avoid being seen, she could reach her cellphone in under a minute. All she had to do was find it.
 

Heart crashing against her ribcage, she snapped open the lock and flung open the door. Cold air rushed in to greet her. She clutched the knife, then ran out into it.

Abby ran until her breath heaved, her lungs burned, and her legs were sore. The snow crunched beneath her boots. Even though she'd traveled the yard just minutes ago, it seemed to stretch on forever, as if she were trekking across some great plain, passing from one existence to the next.

That was the way she'd felt all night. Nothing seemed real, and yet she was horribly certain that it was.

The neighborhood was silent and calm, but she could hear the sounds of the creature behind her, making its way through the basement. She hadn't shut the door. Hadn't had time. Her eyes flew across the neighborhood, praying someone else would appear, but the landscape was desolate and white. It was as if the entire world was gone and buried, and Abby was the last person alive.

For all she knew, she might be.
 

The Morgans and the Pierces were gone. She knew that much. There was no sign of the Hamiltons. The only other person she'd seen was the man at the end of the road, and she assumed he was dead or eaten.

Unless he
was
the creature behind her.

It seemed impossible. But given the world she'd been thrust into, she had no choice but to consider it. But not right now.
 

She had to focus on getting to that cellphone. Even if she had no service, she might be able to find bars somewhere.
 

Her eyes flew back to the Pierces' driveway.

She bounded forward, her boots grappling with the snow beneath her, and scanned the ground for her phone as she ran. There was no sign of it. She kept her head down as she passed the Civic, immersed in her mission, terrified to look behind her. Below her were the tracks she'd made on the way in, as well as tracks from the beast—she could see them now, and the prints were larger than those of any animal she'd seen. Both sets of prints were coated with a fresh layer of snow.
 

Soon she'd reached the backyard. She rounded the house, following her path, and came upon pieces of Rob. She immediately gagged.
 

Abby fell to her knees and retched into the snow. She continued until her stomach was empty and her throat burned. When she was finished, she wiped her face with her glove.

OhGodOhGod….

A crash sprang from somewhere behind her. She scrounged through the snow, making arm-shaped impressions across the pavement, searching frantically for her phone.

The snow parted with ease.
 

The same way Rob's body parted for the creature.

But she couldn't think about that. Not now.

She kept her focus on the ground, ignoring the grisly scene in front of her. If she didn't find help, Abby was as good as dead.
 

All at once, the noises behind her stopped.
 

She shot a harried glance back down the driveway. The area was vacant. No sign of the creature.
Where the hell was it?
Was it fucking with her?
The moment she let her guard down, it'd be on her. She could feel it.