by Dawn, M. K.
Britney whirled around. John stood not five feet away, baring teeth that resembled fangs.
“Please stop.” She took a step back, her heel brushing the edge of the rafter. “John, if you’re in there, it’s me, Britney. Your wife.”
He moved closer, shoulders hunched and black goo dripping from his teeth. If he hadn’t been wearing John’s clothes, she would have never guessed it was him.
“Please.” She held up the gun in another desperate attempt to stop his attack. If he hurt her… killed her… she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her children alone. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He lunged.
Britney lost her footing and toppled over the edge, landing with a thud on the thin pile of hay. Air whooshed from her lungs as the room blurred.
The gun had slipped from her hands and landed a good twenty feet away.
She struggled to her feet and then spun in a circle, looking for her attacker.
Had he gone over the edge? Was he hiding in the shadows, waiting to pounce?
She wouldn’t stick around to find out. She sprinted toward the gun but wasn’t fast enough, letting out a piercing scream as sharp claws dug into her ankle, yanking her to the ground.
Britney rolled to her back and kicked her heel into the face of the monster, who snapped his teeth. The shock of the impact caused him to release her ankle.
She scurried on her hands and knees, grabbed the gun and aimed it at her attacker. Done with warnings, she pulled the trigger, hitting him square in the shoulder. A black inky substance oozed from the wound.
The monster howled but barely slowed down.
Britney fired again, shattering his kneecap. That time he slowed as more of the black substance leaked down his leg.
Britney took a few quick breaths, hoping the two bullet wounds had been enough to drop him.
Back on her feet, she hurried for the door. As she passed, the monster snapped his head up and reached for her legs with the arm she’d shot.
“No.” She gaped at the healing wound. Seconds. That was all it had taken for him to regain the use of his arm.
The monster rose to his feet and hissed.
Without thinking, Britney aimed at his chest and fired.
Black oozed from the wound as he fell to the ground.
Britney didn’t wait to find out if that shot had done the trick. She sprinted out the door and threw the lock.
Leaning against the old barn door, she slid to the ground and sobbed.
Her husband, the love her life, had tried to kill her and their children, and she had shot him in the heart.
***
Britney regained her composure and peeked back into the barn. John—or whatever he had become—still lay motionless in the middle of the barn floor, the black liquid pooling around his abdomen.
She slammed the door closed and snapped the padlock. She didn’t want the kids wandering inside and finding their father this way. His death would be hard enough. And by her hands….
She shuddered and sprinted toward the tree house desperate to check on her kids.
“Hello? Molly, Blake, Carson?” She paused at the bottom of the tree house ladder. “Are you up there?” As hard as she tried to keep her voice steady, it trembled as she spoke. “You’re safe now. Come down. Please.”
The floor door opened, and Carson stuck his head through. “Was that Dad?”
“Come inside. Bring the twins.” Tears clogged her throat. “We need to talk. And we need to clean your arm still.”
Carson’s eyes swept the area. “How do we know there aren’t more of them?”
Britney forced a smile. “It’s just us.”
“Where’s Daddy?” Molly pushed Carson aside, her little cheeks red and eyes puffy. “I want my Daddy!”
“Come on.” Britney waved them down.
Molly shook her head. “There’s a monster.”
“Not anymore, baby. Not anymore.” She couldn’t hold back her tears. “Come on. We need to go inside. Where’s Blake?”
“Right here.” Blake started down the ladder but paused halfway. “You won’t leave again, right?”
His words shattered her already broken heart. “I’m so sorry.” She helped him down and pulled him into a tight hug.
Molly came down next, followed by Carson. With each of them as close as they could get to her and still walk, she ushered them inside and onto the couch. “I have to make a few phone calls and then we’ll talk, okay?”
Carson dropped his head and sniffled. As the oldest, he always tried to put on a brave face for his younger siblings, even though he was just a kid himself. “We heard the gunshots.”
Britney swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“That thing.” Carson’s eyes locked with hers. “Was that Dad?”
It took every ounce of strength she had left just to nod. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”
Molly eyes widened. “You shot Daddy?”
Britney threw her hand over her mouth, ready to break. “I… he tried… I have to make a phone call.”
Rushing to the kitchen, she grabbed the landline phone, not sure where she left her cell. She found Sheriff Cornhill’s business card hanging on the corkboard and dialed his number.
It rang half a dozen times before he picked up. “Cornhill here.”
“Hi. It’s Britney Campbell, John’s wife.” She didn’t know the man well, but John had played on a couple of bowling leagues with him.
“Yes, ma’am. How can I help you?”
With her bottom lip between her teeth, she tried to hold back the tears. Her voice shook when she finally got the nerve to speak, “It’s John. I… I….”
“Is he okay?” The sheriff spoke with a cautious edge.
“No.” Britney peeked around the corner to check on the kids, who were huddled together on the couch watching TV. “I shot him.”
The line fell so silent she thought they might have been disconnected.
“Sheriff?”
“I’m here.”
Her voice quivered. “Did you hear what I said?”
“You shot your husband. He dead?”
Britney bobbed her head as if he could see her through the line.
“Mrs. Campbell? Is he dead?”
“Yes.” The word came out as a rushed whisper. “He attacked me. Threatened my children. I had no choice.”
“This behavior normal for him?”
“Behavior?” Britney couldn’t believe he would ask her such a thing. “You knew John. He was a kind man and a loving husband and father, but he got sick. And it changed him.”
“Changed him how?”
Britney bit back the bile burning her throat. “I don’t know how to explain. You’ll have to see for yourself. There’s no way to describe it over the phone.”
“Where is the body, ma’am? Have you moved him?”
“I left him locked in the barn.”
The sheriff clicked his tongue. “That necessary?”
“I didn’t want to take a chance.” She left it at that. It would be better to tell him—show him—in person. “Can you come over? I don’t know what to with his… his body.”
“I’ll come straight over. Do you have someone to take the kids for a few days?”
“What? Why? I did nothin’ wrong.” She’d called for help, not to be arrested for a crime.
“You just confessed to killing your husband.”
Britney ground her teeth. “To protect myself and my children. You’ll see when you get here.”
“Ma’am, self-defense or not, I’ll still have to take your statement here, at the station.”
“Fine. I’ll call my in-laws. Can you please hurry? I don’t want my children seein’ their father this way. Not after….”
“I’ll be on the road in five.”
“Thank you.” Britney hung up the phone and quickly dialed her in-laws. The phone rang until the voice mail picked up. She hung up; this wasn’t the kind of news to leave in a message.
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Putting the handset down, she turned to go back into the living room.
“Jesus.” She jumped back, grasping her chest. “Molly, sweetie. I didn’t hear you come.”
“Mommy.” She stuck her arms in the air. “Can you hold me?”
Britney lifted her off the ground and held her tight, not able to remember the last time Molly wanted to be picked up. “Let’s go back into the livin’ room. Carson, can you please turn off the TV? We need to have a little family meetin’.”
“How can we have a family meeting without Dad?” Blake scooted over to give Britney and Molly room to sit.
Tears stung her eyes. There was no way she was getting through this without breaking down. “It’s about Daddy.”
“Is he going to be okay?” Molly blinked through tears. “Can’t we take him to the hospital?”
Britney brushed the fallen strands of hair from her daughter’s face. “There’s nothin’ the hospital could do for him. He… he got sick. Very sick. And somethin’ happened to him. He changed.”
“He looked like a monster.” Blake moved closer to her side.
As much as she wanted to argue, ‘monster’ was what she had thought when John—what was left of him—first faced her.
“Did he turn into a monster, Mommy?” Molly sniffled.
“I….” Tears clogged her throat. “I’m not sure what happened to him. He was sick. Lots of people in town have been sick.”
“Wait.” Carson shot up. “There are more people like Dad?”
“What if they come here?” Blake shrieked.
Britney’s heart pounded in her ears. Their fears pulsated through her veins.
Lie, the protective voice in her head pleaded. But what good would that do? If there were others out there like John, they all needed to be prepared.
Jumping off the couch, she bolted to the front door and locked it. “I need to check the back door and the windows. Just in case.”
“What? Why?” Molly grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch and buried under it up to her neck. “Does that mean there are more monsters outside?”
“I don’t know.” Britney peered out as she checked the living room window. “Maybe Daddy was the only one who acted that way when he got sick, but I’m not sure. Dr. Hildebrand was actin’ weird too.”
Pain etched on each of their faces at the mention of his name.
She dropped to her knees in front of them. “I’m so sorry. I can’t… I tried to stop him. He was going to ki—”
“You don’t know that!” Carson jumped to his feet. “You could have knocked him out. But you shot him! You killed our dad!”
“Wait! Your scratch!”
Carson ignored her as he ran up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door.
Britney’s body shook, knowing all too well the pain of losing a parent at such a young age.
“I’m going upstairs.” Molly put on her best angry face, but in her eyes there was so much pain that Britney’s stomach turned.
“Me too,” Blake said with a sadness that tore her in two. Out of the three, he was the worst at masking his feelings.
Britney sucked in a sharp breath. “Okay. I’ll call you when it’s time to eat.”
They lumbered up the stairs and closed their doors, leaving her alone.
The weight of the day pulled her to the floor, and for a second she considered allowing herself to break.
Instead, she forced herself to her feet. Grief would have to wait. What happened to Thomas, to John, to the hospital—it couldn’t be a coincidence.
There was something terrible lurking in the shadows, and she had to find a way to protect her children. No matter the cost.
CHAPTER TEN
“Lunch.” The sound of Cornhill’s voice startled Axel awake.
He sat up on the squeaky cot they called a bed and stretched his achy muscles. His caught sight of the metal tray Cornhill had left on the small open slot of the door. He crossed the cell and grabbed the sandwich, the bread crumbled in his hand. “You call this food?”
“It’s the best we got.” The sheriff tapped the first cell with his nightstick. “Rise and shine.”
Axel stuck a piece of stale bread in his mouth. “How long has he been out? I mean, before I got here.”
Cornhill shrugged. “I’ve been a little preoccupied. A drunk sleeping isn’t top on the list.”
“You sure he’s just drunk?” Axel leaned against the bars separating the two cells.
“Like I said, I got better things to concern myself with.”
“How are things out there?”
“The world’s gone to shit.” Cornhill removed his cowboy hat and wiped his brow. “I got to go take care of some business. Ugly, ugly business.”
The way he spoke, his words drawn out and full of sorrow, caught Axel off guard. “What happened?”
Cornhill straightened his shoulders and stuck his hat back on his head. “Nothing that concerns you. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
“Wait!” Axel called out as Cornhill turned for the door. “What about my lawyer?”
“Lawyer?” The sheriff shook his head. “The damn lawyer can’t be bothered to return my calls.”
“Isn’t there someone else you can call? What about the judge? Isn’t he the one who’ll set bail?”
Cornhill rotated around. “You sure know a lot about this. You been in trouble before, son?”
Axel stooped his shoulders and covered his face with his hands, frustrated with the lack of answers. “No, sir. But I know my rights.”
“Well, we only got the one lawyer, and the county judge won’t set bail until he hears from the lawyer.”
Axel shoved his hands through his hair. “Son of a bitch.”
“There’s no need for language. You’re the one who murdered a man and turned yourself in.”
Axel cocked an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re saying I should have gotten the hell out of Dodge. Left the man’s family wondering what happened.”
“What I’m saying is to be patient. There’s a lot of crazy shit going on right now. We should expect a certain level of delay.”
“Fine.” Axel leaned his head against the wall behind him. “Can I at least make a phone call?”
“Sure, kid.” The sheriff opened the door to leave. “When I get back.”
The door slammed behind him with a clang. The unconscious man in the cell next to him stirred. Axel watched as the man writhed around, moaning a slew of strange noises.
“Sir, are you okay?” Axel moved to get a better look. He hadn’t really paid much attention to the man, hadn’t noticed how gray his exposed skin had grown.
“Shit.” Axel quietly backed away, trying not to draw any unwanted attention to himself. He needed to get the sheriff back in here if he hadn’t already left.
Scanning the small room, he spotted a camera in the corner and waved at it, hoping the thing was on and being monitored.
Minutes ticked by as Axel continued to signal the sheriff, all the while keeping a close eye on the other cell.
The man had fallen so still that Axel wasn’t sure he was even breathing. He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not, but he really didn’t want to stick around to find out.
A good five minutes passed before the door swung open and Cornhill burst through the door. “What the hell is going on in here? You look like a damn bird waving your arms around like that. I told you I was about to head out.”
Axel pointed to the motionless man in the cell next to him. “Something’s wrong with him. Do you see his skin, how gray it is? That’s what happens to the people who are sick, before they become violent.”
Cornhill moved closer to the first cell and peered inside. “Shit! I don’t think he’s breathing.” He fumbled with his keys and unlocked the cell.
“Wait!” Axel sprinted to his door. “You can’t go in there.”
Anger spread across Cornhill’s face. “What the hell is the matter with you? The man needs medical a
ttention if it’s not already too late.”
“You don’t understand.” Axel moved alongside the sheriff as he rushed to the man while calling for an ambulance on his shoulder radio. “If died and comes back to life—”
“What are you talking about?” Cornhill kneeled beside the other prisoner and pressed two fingers against his neck. “No pulse. I’m going to start CPR.”
Axel watched in horror as hair fell from the man’s head with each chest compression, leaving behind a gray scalp with inky black streaks. “I think you need to get out of there, Sheriff.”
“Shut the fuck up.” He continued the chest compressions. “The ambulance will be here any minute.”
The man’s fingers twitched, his long nails reminding Axel of something out of a monster movie. “Seriously, Sheriff, you need to get the hell out of there and lock him inside.”
Cornhill snapped his head in Axel’s direction. “I told you to shut the fu—”
A menacing growl cut him off.
“Get out of there now!” Axel screamed, but it was too late.
The man—if Axel could even call him that—sprang from the bed and pounced on Cornhill, knocking him on his back.
Axel banged against the bars, trying to get the monster’s attention and buy the sheriff time to retrieve his gun, but it was too late.
The monster overpowered Cornhill in a matter of seconds and sank its teeth into the sheriff's throat, ripping it open with a single jerk of its head.
“No!” Axel screamed, stumbling backward.
Blood gushed from the massive wound, Cornhill’s dead eyes locked in terror.
The infected lapped up the pooled blood from the floor before turning its attention to Axel’s cell.
He couldn’t be sure, but the creature didn’t seem to be able to see him.
With its nose in the air, it sniffed and sprinted in Axel’s direction running straight into the bars. A fierce growl escaped its lips as it staggered backwards. A thin line of black goo seeped from the wound on its head before healing in a matter of seconds.
Axel sucked in a sharp breath. His surveyed the sheriff’s body, the wound on his throat significantly smaller.
Fear ran through his blood like ice. He was in some serious shit here.
The infected growled and eased back toward the bars, wrapping each of its gray hands around a pole. The movies depicted the undead as mindless creatures, but this thing just proved that wasn’t their reality.