Werewolf Suspense (Book 2): Outage 2 (The Awakening)

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  "What was that?" he hissed.

  Lorena stirred beside him. She reached out and touched his arm, as if she were afraid he'd vanished. Tom swung his legs off the bed, the floor cold against his socks. He climbed from bed and started for the window, his pulse climbing. He parted the shade and looked outside.

  What he saw made his body tremble.

  In the middle of the road, something he couldn't identify—a furred animal, a creature—was tearing into one of his neighbors. Tom's blood froze. Whatever the thing was, it was larger than a man.

  "Oh, my God…" he whispered.

  "What is it?" Lorena breathed from across the room.

  "Lorena, get the gun!"

  Chapter Two

  Tom stared out the bedroom window while Lorena ran to the closet. His legs felt rooted in place. The man in the street was Desmond Smith, his neighbor. Desmond was being mangled. His stomach was torn open and he was screaming. The beast had its back turned, but Tom saw bits and pieces of its visage—hands that resembled claws, a gaping maw; a snout larger than any animal he'd ever seen.

  "Lorena! Hurry!"

  Tom lunged for his boots. He frantically put them on. Behind him, Lorena threw the closet door open, rifling through objects to get to the gun. Tom let go of the shade and ran for his wife. He saw her shadowed form making its way back to him. She had the gun. Tom reached out and took it, staving off the panic that filled his stomach. He'd never used it before. Not for something like this.

  Tom clicked off the safety and raced back to the window. Desmond had stopped screaming. His carcass lay motionless in the snow, his remains strewn across the snow-covered street. The creature loped in the other direction, making its way toward Desmond's house. Tom saw flashes of movement through the open doorway. Another creature—identical to the first, only larger—was already inside. A scream erupted from the top floor. Probably Tori Smith, Desmond's wife. Further down the street, another creature burst through a window, spraying glass into the snow.

  The things were everywhere.

  Lorena came up beside him and clasped her hand over her mouth, stifling a scream. Tom spun her away from the window just as a series of bangs erupted from downstairs. He swallowed as he recalled the open garage. It was only a matter of time until one of the things burst into the mudroom, then the kitchen. He didn't even have any idea what they were, what might be happening, but he knew he had to react. If he didn't, he and Lorena would die.

  "Come on!"

  He grabbed his cell phone off the nightstand and raced to the bedroom door, glancing frantically around the room. He considered pushing the bureau in front of the door, but the screams outside told him it wouldn't make a difference. The house felt like a cage with four walls, a trap rather than a place of safety.

  The basement…

  If they could get down there, maybe they could lock themselves in the furnace room. Call the police. The door was sturdy. Maybe he'd push the shelves in front of it.

  "Downstairs!" he hissed.

  Tom aimed his gun as they crossed the bedroom threshold. He peered down the stairs. The house suddenly felt dark and foreboding, menacing. He was suddenly certain one of the things was already inside, waiting to pounce. He kept the lights off. Anything he did might draw their attention.

  They crept down the stairs one at a time, staring at the front door. Lorena gripped his arm as if she were falling off a ledge, her nails digging into his skin. The glass windows beside the door were frosted with ice. With each step, Tom saw a blurred piece of the street—houses and yards, snow whipping past. When they were halfway down, Tom caught sight of Desmond's body. The man was flat on his back, his carcass covered in gore. His wife, Tori, was sprawled next to him. She was already dead.

  One of the creatures must've dragged her outside.

  Tom shuddered and took another step, peering right and left up the street. The neighborhood was a replica of similar scenes. Opened doors, shredded bodies. They're dead. All of them.

  Even without seeing his neighbors, he knew, the same way he'd known Jeremy was dead when the police knocked on his door. And he knew they'd be next if they didn't hurry.

  "Come on!" he hissed, urging his wife downstairs.

  They'd just reached the landing when something slammed against the front door. Tom and Lorena froze. A fur-covered hand raked the glass. Tom glanced back at the staircase, contemplating running back up to the bedroom. The porch creaked with the weight of the creature. He could sense the thing on the other side of the door, just as he was certain it sensed him.

  He aimed his gun as a red eye pressed against the glass.

  "Stay still," he hissed to Lorena through clenched teeth.

  Lorena stiffened next to him; Tom's breath caught in his throat. The creature's breath fogged up the window. Tom saw the glint of teeth, a black, snarled face. After a few seconds, the beast vanished.

  Where was it?

  Tom and Lorena took another step. A roar escaped from the other side of the door—a terrifying, primal sound unlike anything Tom had ever heard.

  And then the door buckled.

  "Go!" he shouted.

  They raced from the foyer into the dining room, skirting chairs, passing the dining room table. Tom's boots slipped and slid on the hardwood, as if the house itself was conspiring to kill them. Adrenaline coursed through his body, propelling him faster. He moved by muscle memory alone, darting through the kitchen without the assistance of the lighting, each step enveloping him further in darkness.

  Behind him, the front door caved.

  Lorena lost her grasp on his arm, but stayed right beside him as they reached the basement door.

  He'd just grabbed hold of the door handle when a window shattered in the den. Lorena screamed. Feet pounded from the rear of the house, crunching over glass. They're inside! The things are inside! Tom flung open the basement door and stared into the darkness, ready to forge down into it. But a voice in his head stopped him.

  Don't go down there.

  The thought hit him with such force that he reeled backward. They couldn't go down to the basement. If they did, they'd never leave.

  "Come on!"

  At the last second, Tom changed direction, pulling Lorena with him. Her panicked gasps echoed through the kitchen. He groped the kitchen counter in search of the keys, finding them right next to the microwave where he'd left them. He snagged them as he ran to the mudroom door, clawing at the lock. He'd opened the damned door a million times before, but between the adrenaline and the terror, his fingers felt numb and useless. Come on!

  "Hurry, Tom!"

  Something bounded through the kitchen behind them. Tom unlocked the door and flung it open, barreling through it and into the mudroom, Lorena almost toppling him over. Tom spun, trying to pull the door closed. But the creature was already at the threshold, pawing the air. Tom raised the rifle and fired.

  The blast echoed through the doorway.

  The gun shook in his hands; the creature toppled sideways. It slammed against the kitchen counter, scattering several dishes onto the floor. Tom could barely make out its features in the darkness.

  But it wasn't dead. It kept coming.

  "Go!" Tom screamed.

  They bolted through the next door and into the garage, almost falling down the steps. They were immediately hit with a blast of white. Between the light of the sky and the falling snow, the garage was bathed in an ethereal glow. The generator spat loudly from across the bay. There was just enough room to get the SUV out around it.

  "Get in the car!" Tom shouted.

  He ran to the driver's door of the SUV and squeezed the unlock button on his keychain. He ripped the door open and leapt inside. As he inserted the key in the ignition, he prayed the vehicle would start. It did.

  He searched for Lorena, who was already at the passenger's door, opening it and jumping inside. His head snapped to the garage. The creature was in the bay, hurtling toward them. Tom reversed. He gunned the accelerator, flinging his arm
over the seat, narrowly avoiding the front wall of the garage and the generator, his only intention to get out and away from the madness.

  Lorena screamed. Her shriek sounded far away, as if she were across a canyon rather than sitting in the seat next to him.

  Something crashed into the hood of the vehicle, but Tom kept going, steering backward until he reached the road. He heard a thud as something fell off the vehicle. He switched into drive and hit the gas. In the rearview, several more creatures emerged from the houses, carrying bodies covered in gore. The neighborhood Tom had known was gone, replaced by a sickening mixture of red and white.

  Tom gritted his teeth. He kept driving.

  He didn't stop, not even when he hit the main road.

  Chapter Three

  Holy shit, holy shit…

  Tom struggled to control his breathing. He and Lorena drove through the snow-ridden streets, searching for signs of life. The houses around them were dark, the driveways empty. It looked like most of the occupants had left before the storm got bad.

  "What's going on?" Lorena whimpered.

  "I don't know, honey. I don't know."

  Tom barely felt coherent. His mind spat images of what he'd seen. Without the creatures in front of him, he questioned his vision and his sanity. Was he living some nightmare, some twisted hallucination? For a few moments, he entertained the possibility that he was still in bed, that he'd imagined the bloody scene.

  Was he having a night terror? God knows he'd had plenty of them after Jeremy died. But Lorena was here next to him, and she'd seen it, too.

  If it was a nightmare, they were in it together.

  He patted his pocket, searching for his cell phone. It was still there. Thank God he'd grabbed it. He pulled it out and swiped the screen, waiting for the phone to spring to life. He kept one eye on the road as he dialed. He hit speakerphone. The phone was silent. He dialed again, thinking he must've done something wrong, that he'd punched the numbers incorrectly.

  But he hadn't.

  There was no service.

  The storm had probably interrupted it. Tom's cell phone reception was shoddy, even on a good day.

  "Shit," he whispered.

  The tires skidded over the slippery snow. The steering wheel jerked in his hands. Tom tossed the cell phone to Lorena. "Keep trying the police." Even as he said the words, he wasn't sure what the police would do.

  "Okay," she said vacantly.

  Tom looked over at her. Lorena's whole body was shaking, as if the gravity of what they'd seen was threatening to pull her under.

  "It'll be all right, Lorena. We'll make it through this," he said, though he was far from sure. He'd spoken the words so many times over the years that they felt empty, meaningless. It was one thing losing a son to an accident.

  It was another explaining this.

  "Did you see the Smiths? Did you see what happened to Desmond and Tori?" Lorena whimpered.

  "I saw them, honey. Try to calm down."

  "What if they're still alive? What if we could've helped them?"

  "They're dead, Lorena." Tom shook his head. "I'm sure of it. Even if they were alive, we wouldn't be able to do anything. I shot that thing in the kitchen, and it didn't stop. Did you see it? Whatever the hell these things are, we won't be able to stop them. I'm not even sure the police will."

  He clenched the steering wheel, trying to quell the pit in his stomach. In spite of the irrational, unbelievable things they'd seen, they'd made it out alive. Somehow, they'd survived.

  "Any luck with the phone?" he asked.

  "Nothing," Lorena said.

  "Keep trying. We're bound to have better service when we hit the main road."

  He wasn't sure what calling someone would do. But they had to try, at least. He glanced over to find Lorena's teeth chattering. She was still in her pajamas. In the urgency of the moment, she hadn't had time to get dressed. Tom at least had his work clothes and boots.

  "I think there's a winter jacket in the backseat," he said. "Why don't you grab it?"

  Tom eyed the street in front of him. At the moment, it looked more like arctic tundra than a residential back road. He was driving on a wooded, houseless street, but eventually he'd end up on Arcadia Road, which led to a main thoroughfare.

  From there, it was a fifteen-minute drive to town. In good weather, at least.

  Lorena returned from the backseat. She'd located two jackets, a hat, and some boots. She handed a coat to Tom, and he unbuckled his seatbelt and wriggled into one of the jackets. When he had it on, Lorena slipped a knit hat over his head. She tried to smile, but the expression fell flat.

  The SUV swayed back and forth over the road. The precipitation was deepening, and Tom had the frightening premonition that they'd be stuck and stranded. Tom scanned the white, snow-covered trees around them. Several branches lay in the road, creating obstacles for the SUV. He weaved around them with rigid, clenched hands.

  The closest neighborhood was miles away. He pondered the empty houses he'd passed. He wondered if anyone else was home.

  He hadn't seen a storm like this in several years, and certainly not in October. It didn't look like the plows were out. That explained the depth of the snow in the roads.

  Those that had gotten out were lucky they had.

  Tom shivered. Although the heat was blasting, it did little to restore the warmth to his body. They drove in silence for several minutes, Lorena checking the cell phone, murmuring in distress. Tom tried to focus on the things he could control: driving to get help, telling the authorities what they'd seen. What would he say?

  He recalled Desmond's torn, mangled body. The image felt like a scene from a television show, rather than something he'd witnessed. The creatures were fit more for nightmares than reality. Would anyone believe him?

  He pictured the beast's eyes as it had watched them through the windowpane—sizing them up, ready to burst through glass and wood if it needed to. If they'd gone to the basement, Tom had no doubt they would've been ripped apart like the others.

  Desmond and Tori were dead. So were Nick and Sarah. So was everyone they'd lived alongside for the past twenty years. They're all dead…

  Tom was so immersed in his thoughts that he almost didn't see the shadows among the trees. When he did, he stiffened.

  "Oh, my God, Tom, look over there…" Lorena whispered.

  The fear he'd felt at his house burrowed back inside him, clawing at his nerves. He stared out the driver's side window. The road was bordered with pine trees. White, skeletal branches protruded from the trunks, as if the limbs were trying to escape the weight of the snow.

  Running among the trees were several of the beasts.

  Tom kept driving, watching the creatures glide across the landscape. Every so often, one of them gazed at the road, red eyes glinting in the darkness.

  "Holy shit," he said. "They're following us."

  Tom hit the gas, balancing caution with the need to escape. If we get stuck, if the vehicle dies…

  Lorena pounded frantically at the phone. The beasts increased speed, barreling closer to the road, loping on four limbs. The engine growled; the tires churned through the snow. Tom was so preoccupied with the beasts that he neglected to pay attention to what was in front of him. He swerved to the right just in time to avoid a tree branch. The road was littered with debris. The SUV tires were sturdy, but not sturdy enough to avoid a flat.

  "How close are they?" he shouted.

  "They're getting close, Tom! Go faster!"

  Tom navigated around another branch. Sweat trickled from his forehead. In his peripheral vision, he saw several of the beasts falling over one another, as if engaged in a competition rather than hunting as a pack. He imagined them vying for the first taste of blood, anticipating the kill to come. Their growls spit from the forest.

  Tom careened around several more branches in the road. Although he saw most of the obstacles in the headlights, he was worried about those he couldn't see, those that might be burie
d. As if to prove his point, a loud rattle tore at the undercarriage.

  He grimaced and kept going.

  After clearing the fallen limbs, Tom accelerated and risked a glance out the driver's side window. The beasts were falling behind. He drove for several more minutes, increasing speed as he encountered a straightaway. Soon, he'd surpassed them. Their shadows lingered in the trees and then disappeared.

  He and Lorena were safe for the moment, however long the moment lasted.

  He blew a nervous breath. "Check the phone again, Lorena." He tried to remain positive, but his hope waned. The snow fell harder. Even with the defroster on, the pellets clung to the windshield, gumming up his windshield wipers.

  "Nothing," Lorena said.

  Tom took several more turns, falling into a rhythm, focusing on the drive. The snow was deepening, and he needed to keep momentum. He traded glances between the road and the white-tipped foliage on either side of the road. For a moment, Tom was convinced they'd warped into some alternate reality, one where civilization had disappeared. He could no longer imagine anyone living here. It was as if the snow had buried the neighborhoods that once existed.

  After he'd driven for several minutes, slanted rooftops pierced the skyline, patches of black fighting their way through the snow's coating. Tom stared at the buildings as if they might disappear. It took him a few seconds to recognize where he was. He was approaching Jameson Street, a street he passed every day on the way to work. Everything looked so different now.

  Lorena broke his concentration. "Tom! Look out!"

  Tom snapped to attention. His foot flew to the brake. Up ahead, a girl was trudging into the headlight's glow, her face pale and bruised, her clothing disheveled. He slid to a halt, pumping the brakes, coming to a stop within ten feet of her. The headlights illuminated her battered body.

  "Stay here!" Tom ordered.

  He grabbed his rifle and threw the vehicle into park. When he opened the door, the cold hit him at once, enveloping his body. He jumped out, leaving the door open, and ran toward the girl. The snow grabbed his ankles, trying to trip him up. The girl was trembling, injured. He was almost at her side when she collapsed. He knelt down next to her, noticing her leg was bleeding.