"He was?"
"What I told you before about Ron—that wasn't a lie. My husband was really sick. He really had cancer, and he died a few months ago. When he was first diagnosed, he didn't tell anyone, not even me. I'd known what he was for a year, but I had no idea he was going to transform Jason and Jeffrey. He wanted to pass on his legacy. If I'd known that, I never would've allowed it to happen."
Tom kept his eyes locked on her weapons. "But you already knew what he was doing, and you said nothing. You're sick. You're responsible for the death of all those people on that bus. And who can guess how many others." He threw up his hands.
Rosemary looked up at Tom, but she didn't try to defend herself. Her tears seemed real. He'd never trust her. Never again. It took all his willpower to resist making a move for the weapons. The only thing stopping him was the fear of endangering the others.
Sensing his intentions, Kelsey grabbed his arm. "Listen, Tom, Rosemary made it all the way up here. Maybe she can help us."
"I don't see how. We can't trust a word she says."
Rosemary shifted uncomfortably. Her gaze wandered to the others and back to Tom. "Those things will be coming up here soon. I don't expect any of you to trust me, but the least I can do is tell you my story."
"I don't see how that will help," Tom said.
"Maybe we'll learn something," Kelsey suggested. "Maybe she knows something we can use to survive."
Tom curbed his anger as he looked at the door, listening for the beasts. The hallway was silent, but for how long? They had to do something. Kelsey was right.
"If you want to talk, you'd better hurry."
"I'll tell you everything I know," Rosemary said, lowering her head. "Starting with how I found out about my husband."
Chapter Eighteen
"For years, Ron worked a rotating shift at a steel company in town. His hours were always different, and he worked a lot of overtime. I didn't always keep track of his schedule." Rosemary paused. "But then I started noticing things: periods of time where he was missing, or times when he came home early or late. It always seemed to happen around the same time each month. I started tracking him more closely. For a while, I suspected he was cheating, and I grew angry. Rather than confronting him, I decided to figure out what was happening. So one day, I followed him."
"What happened?" Tom asked, still withholding his anger.
"He went to People's Forest," Rosemary said, chewing her lip nervously. "He's always been a hiker and a camper, so I thought maybe he was sneaking in some time to himself. But it didn't make sense. It was nighttime. He wasn't using a flashlight. So I followed him into the woods."
After speaking these words, Rosemary fell silent. Tom saw the seed of something dark in her eyes, something she'd rather not recount.
"What happened when you followed him?" he asked.
"I didn't see all of what Ron did in those woods, but I saw enough. The moon was full that night, and it pierced through the trees, allowing me to follow him. He went down one of the main trails and veered off. I was afraid he'd catch me." Rosemary swallowed. "We kept going until we were deep in the woods. I heard voices. We came upon a pair of hikers trying to start a fire. They were messing with kindling and a lighter. They were only about twenty years old. I watched Ron get close. Instead of going near them, he stopped and watched them from the trees. It was creepy. The kids were laughing and joking about a movie they'd seen. They'd just started the fire when Ron changed. One second he was standing there, and the next he was twisting and contorting, becoming one of them. He tore out from behind the tree and attacked them. They had no idea what was happening. They didn't even fight back. I can still hear their screams…"
"Jesus," Tom muttered.
"I ran back to my car. I was breathing so hard; I thought I was seeing things. I'd almost made it back when Ron raced out in front of me, his clothing hanging off him. He'd transformed back to himself again, but his eyes were wild. I thought he was going to kill me. Instead he pleaded with me, telling me I couldn't call the police. He said it wasn't his fault. That he couldn't control it." Rosemary wiped her face. "He said he'd do anything for Jason and Jeffrey, that he didn't want to lose his family. He was crying, and I started crying, too. Ron was so persuasive. I'd never seen him like that. Suddenly I was agreeing to whatever he said, hoping to forget what had happened and put the whole thing behind us."
"Looking back, I should've called the police. I should've told someone. But it was easier to pretend everything was normal. Ron started acting better, and he stopped slipping off. I thought it was over. For a while, our marriage was great, and our relationships with the children were excellent. I could almost pretend it had never happened. And then one summer, a few years ago, my employer asked me to go on a business trip."
Rosemary looked down at her hands. "I shouldn't have left. But things had been going so great, and Ron had seemed so honest. I'd foolishly convinced myself that what I'd seen wasn't real. That maybe I'd imagined it."
Rosemary fiddled with the pistol. For a moment, Tom flashed back to Paul in the Knights of Columbus. He swallowed the lump in his throat and convinced himself Rosemary wouldn't follow suit. Rosemary's head sank into her lap; she cried into her hands. Pulling herself together, she finished her story.
"So I left town for a few days. When I got back, Ron told me he was sick. He said he didn't have long to live. And then, when my guard was down, he told me something else. He said he'd taken the boys camping while I was gone, and that he'd turned them. He said he did it so he could preserve his legacy. He wanted to turn me, too, but I told him I'd have no part in it." Rosemary's eyes sparked with anger at the memory. "I threatened to kill him." She swallowed. "If it weren't for those boys, and the fact that he was dying already, I would've done it."
"My God…" Kelsey said.
"It was too late to undo what he'd done, anyway. He told me he wanted to teach the boys. I knew he was dying. I feared for their safety. And so I let him do it. Stupidly, I let him do it." Rosemary stared at the floor, ashamed. "A year passed, and Ron got sicker. A few months ago, he passed away, just like I told you, and I've been protecting the boys ever since."
"Didn't you ever try stopping them?" Tom asked.
"For a while, I tried reasoning with them, but I couldn't control them. Nothing seemed to work. I even brought in a spiritual healer, hoping I could reverse what Ron had done. But that didn't work, either. I couldn't bear calling the police. They wouldn't believe me, and there was a good chance they'd take my children away."
"Besides, Jason and Jeffrey were good at covering up their tracks. They never left any evidence. Ron had taught them well. My love for those boys blinded me to what they were doing."
Tom watched her in stunned silence. The others looked on quietly, processing what they'd heard. Rosemary had effectively hidden her family's secret, allowing them to kill others. What would he have done?
"You should've told someone," Tom said firmly. "You allowed others to get killed."
"I know," Rosemary agreed. "But I was afraid Ron would hurt me or the children. And when he was gone, I was afraid my children would get taken away. You can understand that, can't you? As a parent?"
Tom chewed his lip, thinking of Jeremy. He understood a parent's love. But that didn't excuse what Rosemary had done.
The room fell quiet for a moment.
"What else do you know about them?" Tom said. "There must be something we can use to survive."
Rosemary sighed. "I don't know as much as you'd think. The boys are very secretive. I've tried helping them, but there's been a gap between us ever since their father changed them. They resent me for not turning."
"How often do they change? Is it connected to the moon?"
"Yes. It's connected to the lunar cycle. The change occurs three nights out of every month—every twenty-nine days, to be exact. The rest of the time, it lives dormant within them."
"Where do these things come from, Rosemary? Why do they exist?"
"Ron didn't talk about it much after I saw him in the woods. But we did have some conversations… I asked him some things." Rosemary cleared her throat. "From what he told me, they've been around as long as we have."
"I can't believe that," Tom said, staring at Rosemary. "How can that be true? Certainly, people would've known."
"There have been accounts of them all throughout history. Stories in the fifteenth century of two men named Pierre Burgot and Michel Verdun, who killed and ate several people and were convicted. Another man named Peter Stumpp who was described as doing these same things. I looked them up, and Ron confirmed the stories were real. The people who get caught are the exceptions. Normally, they're very good at keeping their secret. They live a careful existence, changing where they hunt, cleaning up after themselves. They know that being found out will lead to persecution."
"How did they know about this storm?"
"They've been waiting on this storm a while, Tom. It's a legend among their kind. For years, they've whispered rumors about The Great Storm, a storm so devastating that it ravages New England. And now it's here. A chance for all of them to get together and do what they do best."
"I've heard that term several times," Tom said, chewing his lip. "How long is this Great Storm going to last?"
"Three nights; the same amount of time as the full moon. The storm will coincide exactly with the lunar cycle."
Tom ran it through in his head. That meant there was one night left, after tonight. "What happens when it's over? What will these things do?"
"They're counting on the fact that no one will believe what happened here when it's done. Some of the world's greatest atrocities have been buried because of people's disbelief." Rosemary shook her head. "Even if people believe it, these creatures will blend back into society and no one will know who they are. They don't leave fingerprints. Not like humans do. When natural disasters happen, they come out, preying on the confusion and disorder. And then they disappear again."
Tom fell silent, unsure what else to say. He stared at Rosemary, fighting an array of emotions. He studied the guns on Rosemary's lap, his thoughts returning to taking them. To his surprise, she handed him the rifle.
"I still want to help my children, Tom. Somehow. But we're going to need work together if we want to survive. Just like we did last night. Just like you've done with these people."
He stared at the gun in his hands, as if she might've given it to him by accident.
"You still don't trust me, Tom, and frankly, I don't blame you. After I lied, you deserve to be angry with me. But the truth is, we need to get along, otherwise none of us are going to live through this storm."
Tom looked around at the others, taking a silent census. Abraham nodded. The others followed suit. Their pale, frightened faces told him he didn't have any other option than to trust her. "Say we survive another night. Then what?"
"When morning comes, I'll go my way and find my children. See if I can help them somehow. Then we'll ride out the last night of the storm."
Tom stared at her for a moment, then checked the gun. Sure enough, it was loaded with the silver bullets he'd given the police officers. "I'm not sure I fully believe you," he admitted. "Not after the lies you've told. But aside from that, you're right: we're going to have to figure out a way to survive."
"There's something else I should mention," Rosemary said, drawing the group's attention back to her. "When I was in the cruiser, I didn't just grab the rifle. I also used the radio to call for help. According to the policeman I spoke with, they're sending a fire truck back to the hospital to get us."
Chapter Nineteen
A ripple of excitement made its way through the group. Silas and Katherine hugged each other. Abraham and Sally wept, overwhelmed. Kelsey and Tabatha exchanged nervous, but hopeful, glances. Their celebration was counteracted by a series of bangs from somewhere on the floor.
"Shit," Tom hissed. "The police aren't the only ones coming."
From somewhere down the hall, Tom heard the sound of what could only be beasts tearing through rooms. The noise quelled any sense of safety Tom might've felt.
"We've been found," Abraham said frantically.
"How far away is help?" Tom hissed.
"The policeman said he was in a fire truck across town. There's a fireman with him. I'm not sure how long it'll take for them to get here with the truck."
Tom's thoughts raced. "How will we coordinate this? The building is crawling with beasts. We'll either have to wait for the fire truck outside, or the fire truck will have to wait for us. Either way, someone will be in danger."
"The roof," Rosemary said, looking upward. She studied the group as she spoke, as if expecting them to argue. "If we can fight our way up, we can wait for them. The fire truck will have a ladder. They can get us."
"That's not a bad idea," Abraham said. "We talked about the roof earlier."
Tom chewed on the idea for a second. "How do you get up there?" Tom directed his question to Kelsey.
"The stairs," Kelsey whispered. "The roof is another flight up. There's a covered outbuilding at the top of the last stairwell."
"Is the door locked?"
"I have the keys," Kelsey said, digging them out and holding them up.
A crash ensued from a distant room down the hallway. Nails clicked on laminate. Snarls laced the air.
"If we don't get out of here soon, we'll be trapped. We'll never make it." Tom held up the pistol. He handed the axe to Abraham, and the older man took it gratefully.
"We should take the blankets," Kelsey said. "We'll need them to keep warm."
"Agreed. Can you take these?" he asked the kids, piling the blankets in their hands. They grabbed them without argument.
Rosemary and the others stood tensely by the door. Tom's pulse raced as the beasts stampeded the halls. "How much ammunition do you have, Rosemary?"
Rosemary glanced at her pistol. "Not much. I grabbed everything that was left in the cruiser. I used most of it downstairs. All I have left is what's in the guns, and a few extra magazines in my jacket."
"Dammit." Tom studied Rosemary, as if she might produce a better answer. "Assuming we make it to the roof, we'll almost be defenseless when we get there. How will we ward them off?" Tom envisioned the survivors on the roof, faced with the choice of being eaten or jumping off.
"We can't stay here. I don't think we have a choice." She waved her hands, at a loss for another suggestion.
"There has to be something else we can use. Ron must've told you something else, some piece of information."
Rosemary exhaled. "He wouldn't tell me anything like that. It wouldn't make sense. I'd use it against him."
"What about the kids? What about Jason and Jeffrey? They must've let something slip."
Rosemary chewed her lip, thinking. Her silence reinforced the growing noises in the hall. "I'm sorry, Tom, I can't think of anything…"
A door crashed inward somewhere in the distance. "We have to go," Tom interrupted. He gathered the others and made for the door. He put his hands on the bed, preparing to move it, while Abraham bent down to unlock the wheels. Sally hung next to the children.
"Fire…" Rosemary suddenly exclaimed from behind them. Tom halted. "A few weeks ago, Jeffrey woke me up. He said he had a dream he was being burned alive. He's never had a dream like that before. Maybe it means something."
Tom's face lit up as he spun. "Animals hate forest fires. Or any fires for that matter. If these things are more animal than human, maybe we can use fire to ward them off."
"But how will we do that?" Tabatha interjected. "Start a fire in the hallway? We won't have time. They're already up here. And we'll essentially be filling the hallway with smoke, burning the place down around us."
"I have an idea," Kelsey piped up, hope glimmering in her eyes. "We can start a fire in the stairwell. If we can get to the roof, we can set a fire behind us in the landing. Maybe that will keep them from following us. It will buy us enough
time until the fire truck arrives."
"What do we have that will burn?"
"Remember those canisters of nitrous oxide in the supply room?" A smile crept across Kelsey's face. "We also have canisters of oxygen."
Tabatha cut in, "All we need are some alcohol-covered bandages and blankets. The oxygen will accelerate the fire."
"The supply room is just a few hallways away. We can stop there, then we can loop around to the east entrance," Kelsey said.
"All that is well and good, but you're forgetting one thing. How are we going to light the fire?" Tom frowned. "Is there a lighter somewhere on the floor?"
Sally cleared her throat. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. Inside were a pack of matches and an upside-down cigarette. "This is my lucky," she said. "I've been saving it. Maybe it's time to spark it up."
Silas and Katherine carried armfuls of blankets. Abraham took the axe. Kelsey held Silas's knife, and Sally and Tabatha carried scalpels, the screwdriver, and some scissors. As the most experienced with the beasts, everyone agreed that Tom and Rosemary would keep the guns. As distrustful as Tom still was of Rosemary, having the weapon in his hands made him feel better.
As he moved the bed from in front of the door, his heart beat maddeningly. He reviewed the path they'd need to take. Get to the supply room. Get to the stairwell. Wait for the fire truck. He tried to simplify things, in the hopes that it would make them sound easier. He tried to convince himself they weren't heading into danger, but escaping from it.
Those reassurances wouldn't work.
Not only were they heading into the open, but Tom was also leading a group of people he'd grown to care about into the fray, people he was afraid to lose. After unblocking the door, he looked back at them.
"Ready?" he hissed, swallowing the lump in his throat.
The banging in the hallway grew louder. It sounded like the beasts were combing the corridors. With their arms full, the group resembled a family going on a camping trip, or a pack of hikers going on an expedition. Only this expedition was much more deadly.
Werewolf Suspense (Book 4): Outage 4 (The Reckoning) Page 8