Werewolf Suspense (Book 1): Outage (7 page)

She had to keep moving.
 

If she couldn't call for help, she'd run to find it. She'd try the Hamiltons' house, the other neighbor's. Somewhere.
Anywhere.

She was about to flee when her hands came across something solid. She dug the frozen carcass of her phone from the snow, then held it up and swiped at the screen. Her gloves were in the way.

Frantic, she ripped them off, dropped the knife in the snow. Her fingers flew over the screen, but the device wouldn't register. The screen stayed dark and cold. The cellphone had either frozen or gotten wet. In any case, it was dead.

The Hamiltons. She'd get to the Hamiltons. There was still a chance they might be home. She hadn't seen them leave. Maybe they'd heard the commotion and remained inside.
Maybe they'd called the cops.

She retrieved the knife and got to her feet, then started to run. Despite the cold, she was sweating, and her skin felt clammy and hot underneath her coat. When she got back to the road, she stared at the open door of her house, certain something would come barreling out after her, but nothing did.

Where the hell was the thing? It must be biding its time. Tracking her. Stalking her like an animal in the wild.

But what the hell could it be?
It'd been on two legs, for God's sake.
What the hell was it?

Abby fought for breath, refusing to slow her pace.

Her body was torqued on adrenaline, fueled by fear and shock, and she flew through the snow with speed she didn't know she had. The Hamiltons' property was lined with tall, wiry hedges, and their house was set back from the road. The driveway was fifty feet farther down the street. She forged through the brambles until she reached the yard. The garage door was closed. No way to tell if a car was inside.

She prayed that they were home. Maybe they were hunkered by the window, watching her approach. She pictured the tall, sinewy frame of Leon Hamilton, perhaps with a cellphone in his hand, and felt a surge of hope. Both Leon and his wife Adeline were retired. She'd had only a handful of conversations with them, but they seemed like nice people.
 

No matter what the hour, they wouldn't turn her away.
 

The front door was shut and the windows were dark. If there was anyone behind the glass, they remained hidden. She reached the doorstep without incident and mashed the doorbell. The chime rang through the house—a dissonant tone, as if the batteries needed replacing. There was no answer from within. A few seconds later, she resorted to her fists.
 

The sound of her knocking filled the air, bouncing off the neighboring houses. She pressed her ear against the door, hoping to hear voices, but the building was silent.
 

Come on…
 

A sob crept into her throat. She jiggled the doorknob, hoping to find it unlocked, but the lock was snug.
 

Dammit, dammit, dammit…

Her attention flew to the house at the end of the cul-de-sac. The yellow Jeep sat in the driveway. Could she take it? Could she find the keys? She fled the Hamiltons' doorstep and headed toward it. The snow was well past her ankles, like superglue trying to hold her back.
 

A minute later she was in the street. The new neighbor's house was still several hundred yards away. She continued on, the ice and snow wriggling their way into her boots.

What had Rob's last moments been like? Had he already been dead when he hit the windshield? Had he felt himself being torn apart?

Stop. Don't think about it. Don't think about—

A tree branch plummeted to the ground in front of her, and Abby cried out. She veered around the fallen limb as she progressed from road to driveway. A few more branches cracked from somewhere above her.
 

If the creature didn't get her, the storm would.

She was almost at the Jeep. Maybe it was open. Maybe the man had left the keys inside.
 

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

She prayed for a miracle.

Soon she'd reached the vehicle, and she searched for the door handle, casting aside snow to find it. The door was locked. She tugged several times, but to no avail. She tried each of the other doors in turn, but encountered the same result. The Jeep was secure. No way inside.

She backed up a step, her heart racing so fast that she could barely think. The house. Try the house. She looked up at the silent building, expecting to find a light on, but the structure was dark. She made her way past the Jeep and toward it.

She'd only gotten a few feet when she stopped.

Something was gliding through the trees on the left side of the property. She saw a black object against a white backdrop, then caught a glimpse of eyes and teeth.
 

The thing had found her.

Abby turned on her heel and ran.

The beast watched her through the trees. It could smell her scent from several hundred yards away—the odor of fear and sweat, cutting through the air like the sharp edge of the knife she was holding. It didn't care about knives. There were a lot of things it didn't care about.

It didn't have to. It could heal from most of them.

Ever since the start of the storm, the neighborhood had become the beast's playground, its hunting quarters, and it would do whatever it pleased. The snow was little more than a prop in its game, a backdrop for the kill. It had waited for this moment for what seemed like forever, and now that it was here, the beast could barely contain itself.

But it would. For the moment.

The beast was getting better at controlling its rage. It had lived with it for so long that it'd been forced to. The man inside had learned to keep the beast's secret, knowing that exposing itself would lead to persecution.

But soon all restraint would come to an end.

The beast waded through the snow, the steam of its breath moistening its teeth. It could still taste bits of flesh on its tongue, remnants of the man it had killed. It would go back for the rest of him when it was finished with the girl. But right now the girl was more important. It had plans for her.

It watched her stagger through the trees, retreating the way she had come. The beast kept its distance, letting her get ahead. Letting her think she was safe.

Pellets of snow pummeled its fur, but the beast kept moving. Its tail sliced the air behind it. All around the forest, it could hear the padding of paws, the sound of creatures burrowing into holes. The beast was the largest and the strongest, and they all knew it.

None of them would contest its presence.

The world has opened itself up to the beast, and it planned to take full advantage.
 

The storm had come at last.

It bared its teeth, letting the hunger build.

Abby wasn't positive if the creature had seen her. Wasn't sure if she'd been spotted. But she knew she had to get away. Even if she had to run forever, she'd keep going until she found help.

Between the new neighbor's house and the Hamiltons' was a wall of trees and brush. She dove through it, grateful for the cover. The thing would find her easily on the road. Her best bet was to stay hidden.

She hadn't even heard it slipping through the trees. The thing looked like it was built for the elements, built for the hunt, and the sight of it made her legs feel like liquid.

For all she knew, it was right behind her now, though she didn't dare look. She tried to control her emotions, but she could hear a whimper in her throat, the sound of everything she'd seen threatening to erupt.

Stay quiet. Don't let it hear you.

Her boots scuffed the snow, and she did her best to dampen the sound. She wove through the thickets and brush, knocking the snow off thin branches.

A hundred yards ahead was the side of the Hamiltons' house. She fought her way back to it. After several minutes of snagging on wiry brambles, she broke free of the underbrush and dashed out into the open backyard. The property consisted of a small yard. Beyond it was a shed and the forest.

Movement sounded from somewhere behind her. She heard the crunch of a footstep, the hiss of something inhuman. It was getting closer. She glanced over her shoulder, but saw nothing. The snow continued to fall, sticking to her eyelashes and obscuring her vision.

She glanced at the rear wall of the house, discerning a wall of windows and a set of sliding glass doors.
 

The thing would overtake her before she could get in the woods.

She needed to get in the house.

She flew past the windows until she got to the sliders. The double doors were sealed, frosted over from the cold. She slid her gloves down the glass until she found a handle, then tugged on it. The doors held firm.
 

Fuckohfuckohfuck…

She continued along the house, passing several more windows, approaching the back door. What if she couldn't get inside? Her heart pounded as she considered the outcome. If the door was locked, she'd be trapped. Out of options.

She'd have made the wrong decision. The one that had gotten her killed.

She swallowed as she reached the door, then blinked twice to ensure she wasn't dreaming.

The door was open.

Abby half staggered, half fell into the house. Her legs ached from running, and her face was lined with sweat. When she got past the threshold, she spun and shut the door behind her, fumbling for the lock. The deadbolt clicked into place.

All at once she was thrust into quiet.

The appliances were off, and the lights were out.
 

Outside, she'd had the occasional gust of wind to contend with, but here there was nothing. She stared around the room. At first everything was dark, but after a few seconds, she could identify the outlines of countertops and cabinets. It appeared she was in the Hamiltons' kitchen. She'd never been in their house before.

She peered out the back window, waiting for the dark-furred creature to pound against the pane, sending the door reeling inward, but the yard was as desolate as she'd left it. To the left, she could see the path she'd taken from the neighbor's house. Straight ahead was the shed and the tree line.
 

There was no sign of the creature.

"Hello?" she hissed.

She stepped deeper into the house. Were the Hamiltons still here? She considered calling out louder, announcing her presence, but fear held her back. Any noise could alert the creature. Instead she crept across the room, looking for signs of life or a phone.

Her knife clanged against a countertop, and she recoiled. The house was a myriad of lines and shapes. To her left was a room that looked like a den. She saw a couch, a recliner, and a flat-screen television. To her right was the living room.
 

In the absence of heat, the house had taken on a bitter chill, and she could smell the faint remnants of an earlier meal.

She finally saw a dark object on the wall that looked like a phone, and she made her way toward it.
 

Abby maneuvered around a set of table and chairs, eyes locked on the shape she'd seen. Her feet crunched objects on the floor. She couldn't determine what the mess she was stepping on was, but it felt like pasta or some other dried foods.
 

The Hamiltons must've left in a hurry, judging by the open door.
 

When she finally reached the phone, she grabbed hold of the receiver and placed it against her ear. Nothing. Her heart dropped in her chest. She tapped the button, hoping for a dial tone or a person, but the line was dead.
 

 
Dammit, dammit, dammit…

Just to be certain, she bent down and followed the cord to the wall, scurrying to locate the jack.
 

Her feet bumped against something on the floor.
 

Abby stopped.
 

What was that?

She bent down and peered into the darkness, trying to identify the shape in front of her. It took her a second to determine what it was. She immediately gagged. Below her was a pair of eyes. A nose. A mouth.
A body.
 

The smell of copper stung her eyes, and Abby stumbled back, barely keeping hold of the knife. She dropped the phone, and it smashed against the floor.

"Leon? Adeline?"

The body didn't answer.

Her eyes darted to the back door, but it was still closed.

The beast had been here.

She stumbled into the living room, trying to distance herself from the scene. Even though she couldn't make out the details, she knew the person she'd stumbled across was dead. Probably had been for a while.

But that was only one of the Hamiltons. Where was the other?

Abby swallowed the acidic taste in her throat. She held the knife in front of her, as if something might leap out from the shadows and grab her. Her heart beat in frantic rhythm. If someone was still here, maybe she could find the person. Maybe they'd escape this madness together.