But maybe Mark could stave off his. Maybe he could keep his companions safe before it was too late.
His heart pounded so hard he thought it would burst from his body. His hands trembled on the rifle. A ripple of pain washed over him, pounding through his skull and extending down his arms and legs. His eyes felt like they were bulging from their sockets. It was only a matter of time until the change consumed him. Then he would be as powerless as Colton was, as condemned as the creatures downstairs.
The moon poured through the windows, spurring on his transformation.
He glanced over at Tom in the semi-darkness, but his companion wasn't looking.
Tom's focus was still on the door.
Chapter Thirteen
Ashley huddled in the storage room next to Billy, the smell of the dead body wafting into her nostrils. The room was a sickening mixture of grease, sawdust, and blood. She shined the flashlight around the storage room, taking in the shelving, the ceiling, and the floor.
The room was dank and uncomfortable. She'd rather be anywhere else than here.
But hiding out in the room, like most things in life, had become a game of patience. She glanced over at Billy, taking in his soft countenance in the glow of the flashlight, and smiled.
"How'd I do?" she asked.
"Great," he said, smiling back at her. "They have no idea."
He brushed his shaggy hair from his face. She leaned in close and nuzzled his neck. As disgusting as it was to be cooped in the room, surrounded by the blood of their brethren, it was only a matter of time until they succumbed to their true selves.
Once Tom and Mark were distracted, she and Billy would make their transformation. They'd spring from the closet and partake in what they'd been waiting for. In truth, Ashley had hoped for a larger crowd. But she'd settle for Mark and Tom. Her main concern was that the others might reach them first.
She wanted them for herself.
"Should we go out there?" Ashley asked innocently, batting a playful eye at Billy.
"Give it a minute. Wait until they're good and distracted," Billy said.
She nodded. She trusted Billy. Billy was the most logical of the pair; Ashley tended to be impulsive. If it were up to her, she would've eviscerated Mark and Tom a while ago. In fact, she would've killed Tom in the street when they first met him.
Ashley and Billy had killed many times in the past, but always in secret, always in remote areas. They'd never bided their time like this. That was the promise they'd made each other when they encountered Tom—that they'd wait for a better opportunity, hoping he'd lead them to other survivors. Her goal had been to get inside the shelter before turning. That way they'd have a roomful of victims to themselves. But they couldn't wait anymore.
They were going to lose their prey if they didn't act.
Somewhere deep in the building, she heard the snarls of her brethren. Footsteps pounded the last set of stairs and feral cries filled the air. Ashley felt a sensation of warmth, of rightness, in what they were about to do. It was a feeling she'd had ever since the storm started. It was a feeling she could get used to.
They'd all known the storm was coming. It was as ingrained in the beasts as the need to kill. But none of them knew the exact timing. Until a few hours ago, it was nothing more than a feeling in her bones, an instinct as primal as the phases of the moon or the chill of winter. A few of their kind had even moved north in anticipation.
And now the storm was upon them.
She looked up at Billy, admiring how far they'd come. She was so glad they'd found each other. They'd learned to control their urges over the past few years together.
They'd started with Billy's parents.
Dave and Sherry were always trying to keep them apart, restricting their time together, limiting their interactions. And so she and Billy had lured them out into the woods a few summers ago. When they were far enough into the wilderness, Billy and Ashley had changed, killing them and disposing of their remains.
Ever since, she and Billy had been inseparable.
It was moments like that one that made her feel invincible.
Moments like that, and the one they were about to have.
"You ready?" she asked Billy.
"You bet." He smiled.
She sucked in a breath, recalling the guns Mark and Tom had. They'd have to surprise them. But that wouldn't be an issue. Not as long as she and Billy were together. They'd get through it, like they'd gotten through everything else.
She and Billy held hands as they started to change.
Chapter Fourteen
Tom listened to the clatter and chaos from the ground floor of the building. The creatures scraped at walls and overturned objects. Tom imagined them falling over each other like animals in a pet shop cage, fighting for scraps, the weakest among them destined to die. But he knew that was far from the case.
None of the things were weak, and if anyone was destined to die, it was he and his companions.
He gripped the gun with anxious hands. He felt like an inmate on death row, waiting for the final walk. Animal footsteps hit the stairs below. Nails clicked on the cement. He imagined the things loping on four legs, using all their limbs to make the climb. He recalled what Mark had said earlier. There were two floors below them. His last, frantic hope was that somehow the creatures would get hung up or distracted, that they'd never make it to where they were hiding.
He knew the chances of that were nonexistent.
The creatures had gotten into the building; it wouldn't take them long to knock down less fortified entrances. Besides, they probably smelled them.
Pounding ensued on one of the doors below them. Claws scratched wood. Creatures snarled in savage, intermittent bursts. The creatures were on the second floor landing. For a moment, Tom imagined that the beasts were on the hunt for someone else, and he was merely eavesdropping. It was hard to imagine he and his companions were the targets. He prayed the lower door would hold, if for no other reason than to buy him time.
The door burst open, crashing against the inner wall. The beasts tore through the room below them. More feet pounded on the bottom stairs, a swath of creatures joining the others. The noises were louder and more amplified than before. They're right below us. Sniffing us out.
Tom looked down, as if a set of claws might burst through the floorboards and pull him under. He looked over at Mark. Mark's body shook; he looked panicked and wild. After a few chaotic seconds, the noises changed direction, heading back for the stairs.
The creatures mounted the last flight.
Tom swiveled back to the door, staring at the machines and boxes in front of them as if to double the barricade's weight and size.
Inhuman feet scratched the staircase. And then the first, raging claw pounded against the wood fifteen feet away. The noise sent shards of fear through Tom's body. The pounding was so incessant, the growls so loud, that for a moment Tom thought the beasts were already inside the room with them. He recalled Billy and Ashley, hiding in the storage room. Maybe they'll survive.
Maybe they have a chance, at least.
He pointed his weapon at the door, keeping a steady aim. His rifle felt small and insignificant. Wood splintered. One of the machines groaned.
Tom's finger shook on the trigger, begging him to fire, but he held onto his bullets as if he were holding onto his last breath of air. Once he started shooting, Tom knew he wouldn't be able to stop. The beasts would keep coming, and he'd fire until he was out of ammunition, out of breath, or both.
A loud crack split the air. It sounded like the creatures were already inside. It took a second for Tom to realize the noise wasn't coming from in front of him, but from behind.
He spun to find the storage room door open.
The flashlight—Ashley's flashlight—spun in circles on the floor, illuminating two shadows that were emerging from the darkness. In the intermittent light, he caught glimpses of the couple they'd left behind.
Only the couple wasn'
t the couple anymore. It was two of them.
Billy and Ashley were changing, their shapes twisting and transforming, flesh becoming fur. In a matter of seconds, their faces went from human to animal, noses elongating into snouts, teeth enlarging. Ashley—or the beast that had formerly been the girl—took a few staggering steps forward, closing the gap between them.
"Mark! Look out!" Tom shouted.
He spun and made a grab for his companion. Only Mark wasn't Mark anymore, either.
Mark had changed, too.
Chapter Fifteen
Tom dove for the far side of the room. His heart beat like a jackhammer. He got to his knees, took several frantic steps back, and fired his rifle. He wasn't even sure what he was aiming at anymore. The bullet struck the far side of the room, its path indiscernible. The creatures were coming too fast.
Holy shit, I can't believe Billy, Ashley, and Mark all turned…
I can't believe I'm alone…
But there was no time to process the surprise, only time to react. Tom ran further, searching desperately for cover. The room was bathed in an ethereal white glow. He located a machine and scrambled behind it, sticking his gun out the side. One of the creatures bashed against the other side. The machine inched backward, and Tom scrambled to move with it.
The beast hurled itself against the machine again, forcing it backward, sending Tom reeling into a pile of nails and tools. He couldn't see what he was stepping on, but he knew enough not to fall. One of the machine's wheels dug into his ankles, and a spark of pain shot up his leg. He cried out and fell backward, hitting the wall with a thud. The creature growled. It leapt on top of the machine. He saw its gaping maw in the glow of the moonlight. It swiped for his face; he ducked to avoid its claw.
A howl pierced the air.
Another beast collided with the one on top of the machine, taking it to the ground. Was it Mark? The two of them fell, tangled in a flurry of limbs. Tom couldn't even tell who was who anymore. He'd lost track. In just a minute, Tom had gone from a roomful of companions to a roomful of beasts, and for the second time that night, he was confused and alone.
The two beasts clawed and spat, fighting each other in a rage. They slammed into the machine again and rolled in another direction, sending tools and equipment tumbling to the floor. Were they fighting over him? Tom sank lower in his perch, trying to make himself invisible. His only hope was to ride out the nightmare.
His chances of survival were slim. Even if the beasts destroyed each other, there were still the creatures pounding on the door. Sooner or later, the room would be overrun.
The third creature flew past the other side of the machine. Tom thrust his gun over the top and fired again. The bullet glanced off something on the far side of the room. He had no idea what he'd hit. Between the shock and his nerves, his aim was awful. He waited for the thing to come after him.
Only it wasn't coming for him. It was racing toward the others.
Across the room, the fighting continued. The two beasts ripped at each other, punctuating the air with cries and growls. They slammed against the walls, shaking the room and adding to the compendium of noise.
The pounding on the door continued.
The gunshots might as well have been bait for the beasts on the other side, luring the remainder of the things in. It was only a matter of time until the door caved.
Tom regrouped behind the machine, clutching his weapon. The third beast had immersed itself in the ensuing battle. It sounded like all three were in a vicious tangle, intent on shredding each other to death. Tom wasn't certain what was going on, but whatever it was had bought him time.
He needed a course of action, a means to escape.
He couldn't battle all the beasts with the two shots in his gun.
He glanced around the room, taking in the silhouettes of the other machines, the windows on the far wall. Once again, he dismissed jumping. He peered around his hiding spot and caught a glimpse of the open storage room door, the flashlight still shining on the ground.
Maybe he could hide in there. It was a last, desperate attempt, but it was better than nothing.
Across the room, one of the beasts cried out in pain. Another howled. It sounded like one of them was wounded, perhaps in its death throes. The other two continued fighting, tumbling across the floor. Claws scraped against wood. Loud, throaty growls filled the air. Tom felt like he was in some devil's den, an arena encased with ice instead of fire. The winner of the battle didn't matter, because whoever was left would feast on Tom.
The machines against the door started to slide.
Tom peered out from his hiding place. The figures across the room were little more than a blur of movement. Tearing sounds emanating from in front of him—awful, horrific noises that reminded him of Desmond, of Lorena, of Abby. He stepped out of his hiding place, intent on running for the storage room.
And then the noise subsided.
Tom glared over the top of the machine. Two beasts turned to face him, eyes glowing. They were about fifty feet away. Tom raised his rifle at the larger silhouette, aiming for center mass. They stared at him, as if they knew what was coming.
Time slowed to a sludgy crawl.
Tom squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck the center of the thing, inciting a blood-curdling shriek. It threw its claws in the air, giving a last baleful shriek, and then collapsed to the floor. He aimed at the other. Fired.
But the second creature had already sprung. The bullet struck it in the stomach; it howled in pain, but it didn't stop. It shook its head from side to side, casting the pain aside.
Then it sprang for Tom.
Chapter Sixteen
The second beast was Ashley. Tom could tell by its smaller size, though its demeanor was no less frightening. The other two beasts were on the ground, their moonlit forms lifeless.
Tom squeezed the trigger again, hoping he had a bullet left. He didn't.
The creature—Ashley—staggered toward him.
Tom turned on his heel and raced across the room. Ashley followed, her feet scraping the wood floor. He'd wounded her, but at the moment, that didn't matter. She was alive, and she was coming for him. He wove aimlessly through the room, narrowly avoiding tables and boxes, trying to get away. To his left, he heard the creak of weakening wood. The door shook with the fury of the beasts. He wasn't sure how long he'd be able to avoid Ashley while they were locked in the same room. It was a battle of speed and energy.
The only thing keeping him alive was the beast's wounded condition.
He spotted the storage room door. It was still open. He saw the dim glow of the flashlight Ashley had dropped earlier, splashing over Colton's dead body.
He veered in that direction. It was hardly a place of safety, but it was something. He skirted past a small table filled with objects, making a grab for something—anything—that might help him, but succeeded only in knocking several tools from their perch. Ashley was almost on him. He felt her hot breath on the back of his neck, her guttural cries laced with pain.
He'd almost reached the storage room when Ashley batted him from behind, knocking him off his feet. Tom flew through the air, landing on his gun, the wind knocked from his stomach. He rolled to the side, terrified of being filleted. But Ashley had already descended. The world became a suffocating mass of fur and blood. Tom kicked and squirmed, clutching the gun, his face buried in the creature's stomach. He pushed upward, trying to move, trying to breathe. The smell of musk and blood—of stretched, transformed skin—made him gag. The creature slammed him into the ground. Pain burst in his shoulders.
He shoved again, but the beast had a firm grip, its resolve deepened by its impending kill. He felt himself slipping into a world devoid of hope, absent of everyone he knew. The beast slammed him to the ground again. He saw the glint of its teeth as it opened its jaws.
Instead of being afraid, Tom was consumed with anger.
He thought of Lorena. Not the gutted, disemboweled carcass in the woods, b
ut the smiling woman he'd lost. These creatures had taken her. They'd taken everything. He gave another thrust, using the last of his strength, and this time, the creature budged. Its claws ripped free from his coat. He gritted his teeth, smashing the empty rifle into its stomach.
He must've hit its wound.
Whatever he hit, he wasn't sure, but it was enough to send Ashley reeling off him, howling in pain. He rolled and moved in a half-crawl across the floor, contending with dust and debris, heading for the opposite end of the room.
His only thought was to gain distance from the beast.
The creature grabbed hold of him, tossing him into the side of a table. He pulled himself upright and resumed crawling.
He heard the barricaded door crack, and the noise in the hall grew louder. Several boxes tumbled from the top of the machine.
He wheezed for breath. The smell of the creature invaded his lungs, as if it was still on top of him, smothering him. The beast was right behind him. Tom stood and staggered. He heard the ragged breath of the wounded creature, its claws clicking the floor as it loped after him. He picked up the pace, stumbling across the room. A thought hit him.
A goal.
He followed the thin light of the windows, scanning by the room. His hip collided with the corner of a table. He cried out in pain and kept going. Ten feet from the door, he saw a pile of Mark's ripped garments. Ashley was almost on top of him. He glanced in all directions. Finally, he spotted Mark's gun. It had landed at the base of one of the windows. The beasts must've knocked it away during the scuffle.
Ashley leapt at him. Tom dove.
He heard Ashley hit the wall behind him, snarling and shrieking. He was almost at the weapon. Just a few more steps and he'd have it…
He claimed the man's gun and fumbled, trying to decipher which end was which. The light of the window behind him illuminated his hands, but in his panic, he wasn't sure of anything. His heart pounded uncontrollably.
Werewolf Suspense (Book 2): Outage 2 (The Awakening) Page 7