by Kate Morris
Elijah peered out into the vast darkness beyond the house, straining to see. They were becoming nocturnal animals just like the night crawlers. They tried not to use lights at night, had even been warned on the news about it because light and sound drew them in. They’d learned the hard way it also brought in criminals who wanted to rob them of their possessions.
He waited with Alex another hour before his brother declared it safe to go back to bed. Alex was going to sleep on the sofa in the living room while Elijah stayed upstairs with Wren. He made sure his brother had a pillow and some blankets. The old house still wasn’t that warm yet.
“G’night, E,” Alex said as Elijah retrieved the holster for the pistol again.
“Goodnight,” he answered. “Did you check the basement door that goes out to the wood stack?”
“Yeah, it’s double locked. Tomorrow, we’ll cover the windows with wood like we did at our house in the city.”
“’Kay, see ya’ in the morning,” Elijah said and sent him a one-handed wave. Alex raised his chin in accord but didn’t leave his position at the window.
No sooner did he get back into the top bunk did he hear it again. So did Dixie. She mewled softly.
“Shh, it’s okay, girl,” he whispered. “Whatever it is, they can’t get in here.”
That was probably a lie. He wasn’t even sure why he was telling a dog something anyway. Maybe he just needed to hear the lie to console himself.
He peered hard through binoculars and could just barely make out the tiniest, yellowy tint of light coming from somewhere across the fields. Were other people out there? Or were there things out there that used to be people?
Life was precious. People used to say things like that all the time, but none of them realized how true that saying would turn out to be. Life was precious, indeed. Each person in the room had lost someone or everyone.
They huddled under their covers in their beds trying to block out the nocturnal noises, the rain, the thunder, the other sounds that could be more than just an animal outside.
Outside, the noises, every last one of them, seemed ominous now, even if they were probably just animals, creatures of the night moving around. Every little sound made people startle now. Every noise a potential threat. Every reverberation in the air a possible harbinger of danger. The howling wind caused the few remaining windows to rattle. It didn’t help the nerves.
Then there was silence. Sometimes silence was even more frightening. Just straining to listen and wade through the silence was often stressful and nerve-rattling. The not knowing was sometimes as bad as the knowing.
A commotion, a racket of some kind banging near the barns caused even him to jump. Was it one of them already on their property?
Elijah and Wren will return in book four