Outage 5: The Change

by Piperbrook, T. W.

  "From what you're telling me," Ranger said, "we have one more night to go."

  "That's my understanding," Tom said solemnly.

  Maria finished wrapping up her ankle. She drew her knees to her chest and shivered. Emily cupped her face and blew hot air against her cheeks.

  "You know what? Maybe we should start a fire. If only for a little bit," Ranger suggested. "If those things are coming back tonight, we'll need all the warmth we can get."

  "I won't argue with you. Did you say you had logs?" Tom asked.

  "Yep. Outside." Ranger nodded. "They're covered with a tarp. We can keep a fire going for a little while and then douse it. There are a lot of trees around this property that will help shield the smoke. I can keep watch out the window."

  "That sounds like a plan."

  Ranger moved for the front door. Having the sudden thought that he might need help, Tom asked, "Want me to come?"

  "Sure. I won't refuse another pair of hands."

  Tom looked at Maria and Emily. "Will you be okay for a minute?"

  "We'll be fine," Maria assured him.

  On the way out, Tom instructed Emily to lock the door behind them. He waited for her to do it before leaving. Once they were outside, Tom scrutinized the area but didn't see anything threatening. Ranger led him to the side of the house. Along it was a snow-covered tarp, containing a pile of neatly stacked wood. Ranger tucked his shotgun under his arm and pulled a few pieces from the pile.

  "It looks like most of the wood is dry," Ranger said.

  "That's a relief." Tom studied the trees, ensuring they surrounded the house.

  "What are you looking at?" Ranger asked.

  "Just making sure we have cover. I'm a little worried about the smoke."

  Ranger waved off Tom's concern. "The trees around the house should help us."

  "I hope you're right."

  Ranger pulled a log from the pile and handed it to Tom. "I'm not too worried about it, anyway. Are you?" This time he stopped and grinned. Tom hadn't noticed before, but it looked like his teeth were stained. His smile was wide enough that Tom almost dropped the log.

  "What do you mean?"

  "You can drop the act now that we're outside," Ranger said, nodding. "That was quite a story you told. Don't worry; you got dibs on 'em. I won't take them away. I can't say the same for the others, though."

  Tom's blood froze as he realized what Ranger was saying. He stared at Ranger's cocky grin and tried to suppress the fear on his face. Looking closer, Tom realized Ranger's clothing was too large for him. On top of that, he'd taken a long time to search for those bandages.

  "This isn't your house, is it?" Tom guessed.

  "No. It's just where I'm holing up until the night comes. But you've got a great idea, Tom. Why not find the food before you have to hunt for it?" Ranger's smile grew wider.

  Being in close quarters with the man, Tom was suddenly hit with an animal recognition so strong that he was afraid the man might read his thoughts.

  Just like the dog sensed me, he thought frantically.

  He backed away from the woodpile.

  "I assume the bunker story was a ruse?" Ranger asked with a raised eyebrow.

  "Of course," Tom said, hoping his smile wouldn't give him away. "I'll warm up my friends a little, and then we'll be on our way."

  "I won't try to follow you," Ranger said.

  Swallowing his fear and disgust, Tom managed, "Okay."

  "We'll tell them I'm stubborn and refused to leave."

  A greater part of him wanted to raise his rifle and shoot Ranger, but what if that didn't work? What if the man was impervious to bullets, the same way the creatures were? He hadn't found that out yet. Worse yet, what if the noise drew others?

  The safest course of action was to play along.

  Tom took several pieces of wood from the woodpile and cradled them in his arms. He felt Ranger watching him, but he didn't dare meet the man's gaze again. Clearing his throat, he walked toward the house, quelling the cold terror in his stomach. He half-expected the man to shoot him in the back, but a minute later, he heard the crunch of Ranger's boots following him in the snow.

  Chapter Eight

  It took several minutes for them to get the fire going. In that time, Tom couldn't stop planning an exit strategy. He watched Ranger, hiding his uneasiness. Ranger sparked casual conversation with Maria and Emily, speaking of his antique restoration business, the storm, and his time living in Plainfield. Tom was unsure if the man's stories were true. He guessed most were lies.

  Maria and Emily took off their gloves and held their hands by the fire. Tom hovered close by, afraid to let them out of his sight. He hoped Ranger couldn't smell his nervousness. He had little idea of what was possible. Everything about the change was new.

  Since he'd come inside, the feeling of recognition had faded, but he wasn't sure how keen Ranger's senses were. Tom's only comfort was that his curse might've saved their lives.

  After Maria and Emily had warmed up, Tom cleared his throat. "We should probably get going," he said, staring at the fire so his expression wouldn't give him away.

  Ranger prodded the logs. His greasy hair hung over his face as he leaned over the fireplace. "Is everyone warm enough?"

  Tom took the opportunity to catch Maria's gaze. He widened his eyes, cocking his head at the door.

  "My ankle feels a little better, and I feel a little warmer. I think this helped," Maria said, picking up on his nervousness.

  "I'm glad to hear that," Ranger said, still poking at the fire. "I'll douse the fire after you leave."

  "Aren't you coming with us?" Maria asked, wrinkling her forehead in confusion.

  "I don't think so," Ranger said. "Tom and I talked about it outside. I'm going to stay put. I'm a stubborn one."

  "But what if those things come back?" Emily protested.

  "If things get bad, I'll manage. That's what I was telling Tom."

  "It's not safe…" Maria tried again. Tom searched for insincerity in her tone—anything that might give them away. Thankfully, she seemed convincing.

  "I've managed so far," Ranger said. "I'm resourceful. I'll make it."

  "Please be careful," Maria added.

  "I will." Ranger looked at them and smiled. The insincerity in his expression made Tom sick to his stomach.

  Without trying to convince him further, Tom took Maria and Emily's arms, leading them toward the door. Ranger stood and walked them out.

  "I wish you folks the best of luck," he said.

  "Thanks," Maria said, her voice wavering.

  Tom hoped Ranger didn't hear it.

  Tom's legs felt unsteady as he walked through the living room. The room was suddenly hot and claustrophobic, and he wanted nothing more than to leave. When they reached the door, Ranger ushered them out. The blast of cold was better than being inside with the untrustworthy man. Tom eyed him nervously as they said their goodbyes.

  "Thanks for the help," Maria said with a smile.

  "Don't mention it."

  "It was nice meeting you," Emily added.

  Ranger smiled.

  Crossing the property, Tom resisted the urge to peer over his shoulder. He gave only a few cursory glances to ensure Ranger wasn't following them. When they were out of sight, he exhaled the breath he'd been holding.

  "What is it?" Maria asked with concern.

  "Keep walking," Tom said. "I'll tell you when we're a bit farther."

  Despite her injury, Maria walked fast as they crossed another neighborhood. Tom waited until they were a neighborhood away before risking an explanation.

  "We needed to get out of there," he told both Maria and Emily. "I hope you understand that."

  "How come?" Emily asked.

  "Ranger wasn't telling the truth. He was going to hurt us. I caught him in a few lies."

  "If he meant us harm, why did he let us go?"

  "He knew I was on to him."

  "My God," Maria whispered.

  "If eithe
r of you see him again, you need to let me know right away."

  Emily's face was white with fear.

  Maria's breath plumed the cold air as she said, "Okay. We will."

  Emerging from a neighborhood of lifeless houses, they lingered in a dense patch of trees overlooking a long, sloping expanse of white landscape. At the bottom was a large area that looked like a road. Tom held up a protective arm, stopping Maria and Emily. Looking around, he recognized the area.

  "The sand and gravel company," he muttered.

  Several tall, smooth tubes pierced the sky in the distance. Around them were a variety of cranes and metal towers, surrounded by metal chutes and tall buildings. The towers were branded with a familiar logo. Abraham had worked there. At least, that's what he'd told Tom. A wave of sadness crept over Tom as he remembered his fallen friend.

  "The good news is I know exactly where we are," Tom said. "The bad news is that we took a wrong turn. We have to backtrack. There's nothing else out this way."

  "I used to drive past this place every week," Maria said. "Emily had dance class in Canterbury." The look on Maria's face was one of nostalgia, rather than pain or fear.

  "I remember the towers," Emily confirmed, pointing. "We always passed them. Right, Mommy?"

  Tom paused, letting his companions reminisce for a moment. He found himself wondering if things would ever go back to normal. Routine activities such as a child's dance class seemed like things of the past, rather than things that might happen again.

  "Brian—Emily's father—used to go to every performance," Maria added. "Even though it was out of his element, he made sure not to miss them." She swiped tears from her eyes, looking down at Emily.

  "It'll be okay, Mommy," she said.

  "I know," Maria said, fighting to compose herself. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm supposed to be the strong one, and here you are comforting me." She leaned down and kissed her daughter on the head. "I love you, Emily."

  "I love you too, Mommy."

  "Please tell me you know where we're going, Tom."

  "I—"

  An engine growled in the distance. Tom jolted. Maria and Emily jumped. They stared down the snow-covered road, watching an industrial truck drive closer. It was a half-mile away.

  "Maybe it's help," Tom whispered hopefully.

  He tried to contain his optimism, even though the truck was the best thing he'd seen all day.

  PART TWO: THE SECRET

  Chapter Nine

  The truck growled and spat exhaust as it crept up the road. Tom couldn't see the details, but he recognized it as a hauler. On a typical business day, the truck carried sand and gravel to the company down the road. Now it was a beacon of hope in a dead landscape.

  Tom studied the vehicle, keeping Maria and Emily behind him. Between the hill and the trees, they had a safe vantage point to view the driver. Some part of him wanted to rush down the hill and signal the person, but his memory of the men they'd encountered earlier stopped him.

  Who knew who was driving?

  He resolved to get a look at the person first. Then he'd figure out what to do. If he missed the truck, he could always run after it. Looking at Maria and Emily, he knew he couldn't put them in danger recklessly.

  "Stay here," he hissed.

  The noise of the engine grew louder, cutting through the silent, frigid scenery. The tires flung snow. The truck approached within a few hundred yards, the oranges and blacks contrasting sharply with the landscape. For a moment, Tom considered that the occupant might be returning to his workplace, oblivious to the carnage. But that didn't make sense. There was no way someone could've driven through town and not noticed the bloodshed. The chaos was as much a part of Plainfield as the buildings, or the dead occupants.

  The more likely scenario was that the driver was getting to safety. Perhaps the gravel company, far removed from town, had become a place of refuge. Convinced of his new theory, Tom inched from the trees, wondering if he could dart down the hill and catch the driver's attention in time.

  What he saw next stopped him.

  Maria and Emily gasped in terror.

  The bed of the truck was filled with bodies, jostling with the bumps in the road. All of them were naked and bloodied. A shimmer of fear ran up Tom's legs. The driver—a rotund man with a flannel jacket—stared straight ahead, as if he was hauling a load of dirt instead of a pile of human beings. His casual demeanor was as fear-inducing as the haul he was carrying.

  "Oh, my God…." Maria gasped, pulling Emily against her to shield her from the sight.

  But the little girl had already seen it. She cried quietly into Maria's jacket, shaking.

  "Stay still, he doesn't see us…" Tom said.

  He prayed as he said the words. They were far enough away that he shouldn't have to worry, and yet he couldn't shake the vision of the man turning his head, noticing them in the trees at the top of the hill. The truck belched as it drove down the road, releasing a plume of exhaust, and suddenly the bodies were out of view, as if they'd been some horrible dream that Tom had concocted, rather than the truth.

  "It must be one of them," he said suddenly, hit with a wave of understanding. "They're cleaning up after themselves. They're taking away their dead to bury them."

  He recalled the beasts outside the machine shop and the beasts at the Knights of Columbus. Both had pulled the bodies of their dead brethren away. Maybe it was the beasts from the hospital.

  Tom's new theory made him nauseous. What better time to clean up than in between hellish nights, passing the time until the moon returned? The man had probably been living among the townsfolk, harboring his secret for a while.

  In a way, his secret was no worse than Tom's.

  "Are you all right, Tom?" Maria asked, her touch on his arm keeping him sane.

  "I'll be fine," he said.

  He looked over at Maria and Emily, who watched him with concerned expressions as the growl of the truck engine faded, leaving only tire tracks in its wake. Composing himself, Tom turned in the other direction, his impulse to save Maria and Emily stronger than ever.

  "Let's get out of here," he said, leading them away.

  "Are you sure you're all right, Tom?" Maria asked, struggling to catch up.

  Since they'd seen the truck, he'd been pushing harder and faster, inadvertently leaving his companions behind. Maria's breath heaved with exertion as she pushed her crutch in and out of the snow. Emily's short legs knifed through the white powder.

  "We've seen worse things," he said, "but watching that truck reminded me of the scope of this."

  "I had to look away," Maria said. "As soon as I realized what it was, I protected Emily…" She glanced at her daughter's pale face, trying to convince herself her daughter had been spared the sight of the carnage.

  "The idea of these creatures living among us, working, paying bills, planning…" Tom shook his head. "It's as sickening as the rest of this."

  "Thank God you found us," Maria said. "I don't know who else I'd trust, Tom."

  Guilt churned Tom's insides. He forced those thoughts from his mind as he retraced their tracks.

  He glanced up at the sky. The gray, impenetrable hue reached as far as the eye could see. The deadline of night loomed. It felt like they'd been traveling for days, though he knew that couldn't be the case.

  After retracing their steps through several neighborhoods, a street sign triggered Tom's memory.

  "Wait a minute," he said suddenly, pointing to it.

  "Do you recognize it?" Maria asked.

  "Crescent Street," he said out loud. "I remember that one."

  He had a vision of himself, riding on the back of the fire truck. That journey had been a lot clearer than his walk in the snow. He'd watched the sign flit by on the left. To the right was an intersecting street. The image gave him a much-needed burst of hope.

  "This way," Tom said confidently.

  He led Maria and Emily away, forging new boot prints as they changed direction.

 
Chapter Ten

  Kelsey clutched Silas and Katherine and stared at the ceiling of the bunker, trying to envision what was going on outside. The enclosed, underground room might as well have been a prison cell. She felt isolated and trapped: the same way she'd felt above ground. Although it was daytime, she knew night would be coming soon, and with it the threat of the beasts.

  Would she hear them scratching at the door? Would they find their way in? The rifle at her feet would do nothing against a swarm of beasts, silver bullets or not.

  Across the small room, Officer Flannery and Mike Tancredi made frantic calls on the radio, trying to get in contact with anyone who might be alive. The radio was hopelessly silent. She fought the feeling that they were the only ones left.

  Two nights of losses had compounded that fear.

  On top of that was her guilt.

  Ever since they'd closed the door to the bunker, Kelsey had an awful pit in her stomach. She'd lied about Tom. She'd told Mike and Officer Flannery that he'd gone to find a family member. She thought back to when she'd told the lie, shortly after watching Tom leave.

  When he hadn't reappeared, Officer Flannery had gone out searching, but the gusting wind and the threat of the beasts had driven him back to the bunker.

  She regretted telling the lie.

  But what could she have said? That Tom was one of the creatures, and that he was headed to some uncertain place to change? They might've tracked him down. They might've killed him. She'd seen desperate people do desperate things.

  As guilty as she was for lying, she couldn't expose Tom's truth. She had faith that Tom would get as far away as possible from the bunker. She told herself he wouldn't be a threat.

  She hoped she wasn't wrong.

  She looked around the bunker. The room was stocked with food, drink, and ammunition—enough to sustain them for a while, even though they only needed another night. Mike seemed to have thought of everything. Unfortunately, the weapons in the bunker were secured with normal dangers in mind. Only the few guns they'd brought in had silver bullets.