Hope

by Sam Rook

  Hope

  Title Page

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Epilogue

  HOPE

  By Sam Rook

  Hope

  By Sam Rook

  Copyright © 2013 Sam Rook

  Smashwords Edition

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Chapter 1

  Kathryn Merlangton stared at the vase cradling the dying roses. Two red blooms bowed over the white sympathy card like mourners looking down upon a casket. She drew in the cloying smell of the flowers and let her gaze fall to the eyes of the bear hugging the vase. Its accusing regard made her tighten her grip on the countertop to remain standing.

  The thumping of a tail against the hardwood floor saved her from the downward spiral and brought the ache of her shoulders to the forefront of her mind. Groaning from the weight, she lowered her laptop backpack to the floor with painful hands. Her carpal tunnel forced her to carry around her livelihood like a teenager. Dargo, her mother's—her—timid Doberman remained on his pillow. His lack of a proper greeting made her suspicious, but the trail of mail leading the way confirmed his guilt.

  Stepping closer, Kathryn followed her mortgage and electric bill. The trunk of Rachel’s purple elephant reached for air from beneath Dargo’s paw. Kathryn rescued Ella with a shaking hand. The tempo of Dargo’s tail increased, but he cringed into his pillow. Ella stared at her with only one eye. A crash from outside saved Dargo from her wrath as he jumped to his feet with a whine.

  Damn raccoons. Or with her luck, it would be a bear this time. She welcomed the distraction. Dargo trembled against her thigh and she leaned over him to grab the flashlight off the counter and placed Ella out of his reach. With the sound of breaking glass just outside the garage door, Dargo bolted from the kitchen toward the living room.

  Kathryn sucked in a breath and thrust the flashlight out like a weapon. When she heard Dargo's nails slide across the floor and then the rumble of his retreat up the stairs, she shook her head and lowered her pathetic weapon.

  "My hero."

  She grabbed the cordless phone from its cradle and pressed the speakerphone button. After dialing 911 and leaving it on the counter, she withdrew a French knife from the block of wood her father claimed was a homemade knife holder. With the flashlight in one hand and the knife in the other, she walked over and cracked open the door, shining the flashlight into the garage.

  "911. What is your emergency?"

  The beam of the flashlight stopped as if against a black wall. Angling the light away, she aimed it back outside the door to make sure she hadn't imagined things. The round beam of light, originally the size of a softball, shrank to the size of a baseball. The black wall moved toward her.

  "What the hell?" She slammed the door and backed away, trembling as her shoes squeaked along the floor.

  "Hello? 911. What is your emergency?"

  Little by little, the grains of the wooden door turned from deep brown to gray. Streaks of black spread from the edges, joining in the center and spreading until the black void engulfed it. Blackness seeped from the door and spread to the walls and floors of the kitchen. Kathryn turned and tried to scramble over the counter, dropping the flashlight in her haste.

  "Help! There’s a giant...thing...eating my kitchen!" she screamed toward the phone.

  Before she reached the other side, something warm grabbed her feet. She looked behind her and shrieked. An extension of the void stretched beyond it and held onto her. Blackness engulfed her shoes and gray tendrils stretched from her ankles to her knees. Mesmerized, she watched her calves disappear into blackness as it tried to swallow her. Her stomach churned at seeing her legs end at her knees. Tingling heat moved up toward her thighs.

  "Somebody, help me!" Her heart pulsed in her ears.

  She reached around behind her and slashed the void with her knife. Unsure what to expect, her eyes widened with surprise at the resistance. Slicing the void was like using a butter knife to cut through a cold stick of butter. Before she could recover, the void pulled the knife from her hand and she watched her weapon disappear into it.

  Unable to move her legs as she started to slide backward across the marble, she turned and gripped the edge of the counter. The familiar ache in her hands and wrists spread up her arms and into her shoulders with her unsuccessful attempt to pull herself free. Kathryn lowered her forehead to the counter, sobbing as the cold surface leeched the warmth from her.

  "Ma'am? What's happening?" The 911 operator's voice filtered through the pounding in Kathryn's ears.

  "Help me! It won't let go!" Her voice sounded pathetic. She clenched her jaw and looked around for another weapon. The vase. She released her grip on the counter with one hand, grabbed the vase and swung it at the void, now up to her hips. The vase sank six inches into the void, her hand along with it.

  She struggled to pull her hand to safety. The muscles in her arm gripping the counter throbbed with the increased strain. Tingling heat from the void jumped up to her chest and she gasped at the increased speed of her engulfment.

  "Ma'am? I'm sending help. Just stay on the line."

  Kathryn's grip loosened as the void reached the shoulder of her arm holding onto the counter. She tilted her chin to keep her face out of the void. The taste of burnt toast filled her mouth and she smelled carrion with her next breath. The kitchen faded from gray to black and a scream tore from her throat when she saw a large yellow eye with a vertical slit blinking in the darkness that enveloped her.

  Kathryn awoke to an eerie silence. No hum of the aging refrigerator or drip of the faucet disturbed the sound of the wind blowing across her cheek. Face-down on the counter with her head hanging over the edge, she wiggled her fingers in an attempt to calm their tingling. She pushed herself into a sitti
ng position with numb arms. Gasping for breath, she surveyed her surroundings.

  She sat in what was left of her kitchen. Gray sand showed between most of the uneven hardwood floorboards. The refrigerator and stove stood in their usual places. The door to the garage hung on its hinges revealing only half of the garage. The absent second bay partially framed a gray landscape dotted with black boulders beyond her packed boxes. What happened to the trees? Kathryn blinked, adjusting her eyes to the harsh sunlight reflecting off the counter.

  She slid to the edge of the marble then to the floor on shaky legs. Drops of sweat trickled down her forehead from the simple act of standing. The sun shone high overhead and the missing ceiling offered no protection from its assault.

  "I’m in hell." It’s what she deserved. Everything would have been fine if she hadn’t lost her temper. Again. A red leash hanging from the hook next to the door stirred with the wind.

  "Dargo? Dargo!" She paused, listening for the jangle of his collar.

  Careful not to twist her ankle, she made her way through the door and down the uneven stairs to the garage. The concrete, still intact, angled toward the garage door. She edged between the garage door and her packed boxes, surprised no broken glass littered the path from the missing windows. Stepping off the broken concrete, her sneakers crunched on a mixture of sand, pebbles and gray chips of wood. She slid down a small hill, releasing the subtle smell of ashes with a faint hint of road kill.

  She clambered onto the crumbling blacktop of the driveway covering her nose with the crook of her arm. The rear of her Toyota Camry angled into the air, its two rear tires and backseat compensating for the missing front half. Falling to her knees, the jagged edges of the blacktop dug into her skin. The financial black hole just sucked her closer to its center. It didn’t matter. The sound of sand blowing across her car brought her back to reality. Shaking her head, she got to her feet and wiped her knees with trembling hands.

  "The house is in the middle of a gray desert and I’m worried Allstate won’t cover anything. Idiot." Beyond the driveway, the gray sand continued for several hundred feet before ending at a row of spindly trees. Some logical explanation could explain what happened to her missing ten acres of trees and foot of snow. Sure. Purgatory seemed more likely. Clenching her jaw and wiping the tears from her eyes, Kathryn turned back toward the house and stopped in surprise. The study and the living room were there, minus the second floor.

  "Dargo? Anyone?" she yelled, racing back into the kitchen.

  She gasped as her eyes found the phone on the counter. Running to the counter, she grabbed the phone and pressed the on button. Nothing. She pressed off and then on again just to be sure. Disgusted, she threw the phone and headed toward the dining room.

  Everything appeared as she left it minus parts of the outer walls of the living room and dining room. The apple pie sat upon the dining room table next to a colorful lump—what remained of her 30 candles. Her father hadn't put it away like he had said he would. The smell of apples and cinnamon calmed her nerves.

  Drenched in sweat, she sat at the table with her head in her hands. She couldn’t focus her mind on the moment and longed for the days when there would have been a cake on that table instead of a store-bought apple pie. Her mom had always made a cake.

  A shadow darkened the table, and then the sunlight reappeared. Kathryn scrambled from the chair, shielding her eyes while she looked up at the sky. She held her breath, willing whatever had blocked the sun to reappear to satisfy her curiosity. Yet at the same time, she had a feeling she didn’t want to know. Something wasn’t right.

  She heard a soft thump beyond the living room. The crunching of footsteps in the sand drew her attention and she stared at the wall. Maybe someone had come to rescue her. A shadow darkened the dining room again. After another thump, she heard the sound of a second set of footsteps. Every instinct in her body told her to flee and she obeyed.

  Kathryn slipped into her study, closing and locking the door behind. She threw open the closet door and scrambled to move her computer chair over to the closet. Climbing onto the rolling desk chair, she gripped the shelf to steady herself. She reached above her to the top shelf, her fingers just brushing the metal box.

  No! Why did Dad push it so far back?

  The sound of nails clicking upon the hardwood floor and a wet snuffling made her turn toward the door, gasping for breath. The door exploded into splinters as someone—or something—entered the room and she fell from the chair as a clawed hand reached for her. She shrieked when a set of inhuman hands yanked her upward by the arms. Her legs swung in the air and brushed the black hide of the beast that held her high above the floor.

  Chapter 2

  The beast, taller than the doorway, filled half of the room. A second one filled the other half. Their eyes were a bright orange in the pits of their grotesque faces. Bat-like wings flowed out behind their black angled bodies. Their leathery hide, cracked in places, failed to contain the thick green liquid that moved beneath its surface. Double-jointed legs ended in large claws and long horns protruded from their heads. They had to be demons from this insane nightmare of a horror movie.

  Her frantic kicks had no effect and only made the creature’s nails dig deeper into her flesh. Its pointed teeth and hot breath lingered over her. She gagged at the smell of death as the beast pulled her closer to its mouth. Oddly detached, she noted the orange shade of its mouth matched its eyes, and then her head cleared.

  "F'enk'e'alath shel'an're!" Kathryn heard herself speak.

  She fell to the floor as fire ripped through the bodies of the creatures. Their agonized screams pierced her mind and she covered her ears. Scrambling into the closet, she cowered in the corner. The creatures thrashed upon the floor, their long tails crashing into her desk and the walls. Her pictures crashed to the floor and Kathryn closed her eyes at the destruction. She wept as the smell of burning meat permeated the air and the sound of the creatures’ thrashing ceased.

  Kathryn crept from the relative safety of the closet. The charred bodies of the creatures atop the blackened floor took up the entire room. Wrinkling her nose, she stepped in the open areas between their limbs and made her way to the study door. Once there, she turned and took one last look at the destruction, then vomited onto the floor.

  Holding her hand over her mouth and nose in an attempt not to gag over the new combination of smells, she turned away from the scene. The feeling of the creatures’ claws on her skin made her shudder and she started sobbing, sliding down against the doorjamb and holding her knees to her chest. An uncontrollable shaking seized her body and she breathed in short gasps, but a part of her remained aloof.

  A little less fire next time.

  Several minutes later, she crawled into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. Closing her eyes, she breathed through her mouth and attempted to calm down. The heat sucked the moisture from her mouth, but that was better than dealing with the smell. She had to get out of here. There could be more of those creatures and a house in the middle of a desert screamed "buffet."

  She scrambled up and grabbed her backpack from the corner. Unzipping all of its pockets, she turned it upside down and shook it. Her laptop hit the floor amidst the floating papers outlining the programming code. She couldn’t care less if the users crashed the system with ten keystrokes; she just wanted the damn bag.

  Bag in hand, she threw open the refrigerator door and shoved six bottles of water into the pack. She abandoned the fridge and searched through her cabinets. Her pathetic store of peanut butter and Doritos wouldn’t get her very far. Setting the bag upon the counter, she threw in a half loaf of wheat bread and a butter knife before zipping the largest pocket.

  "I should just leave them. I can survive without them." She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath and blowing it out through pursed lips. "Damnit." She pushed away from the counter and marched to the study.

  She waded through the charred corpses, grabbed the pictures, minus their broken
frames, and retreated to the kitchen. Sitting on the stool, she expected the mirror image in the first photo to reflect her frown, but her mother’s smile lit up the slate-gray eyes framed by mousy hair. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the other photos, so shoved them and Ella into the front pocket of the backpack before shouldering it.

  What else? Food, water...the gun! Back amidst the bodies, she struggled to find an even spot for the computer chair in front of the closet. Groaning in frustration, she gripped the back of the chair with white knuckles that ached from endless typing. The sunlight shone upon the blue flowers and Kathryn reached out to rub the delicate weave of the shawl hanging in the closet.

  Kathryn had never worn the black shawl with blue roses. She remembered her forced smile when she thanked her mother for the Christmas gift and Rachel’s incessant "What is it?" Before the tears could flow, a thump outside drew her toward the window. A green sedan with blue lights upon its roof sat behind her car with its door wide open and its passenger lying upon the ground. Beyond the car, a group of black figures flew toward the house.

  Kathryn raced from the study, shoving the shawl into the backpack while she slid through an opening in the living room wall. Shouldering the backpack as she ran, she slid to a crouch next to the body of the Vermont State Trooper.

  "Wake up, goddamnit, wake up!" His familiar brown hair and glasses made her pull back. "Sergeant Summers?" Kathryn clenched her jaw in mixed relief and disappointment. She was so glad someone had come, but wished it were anyone else but him. Sergeant Summers’ dark brown eyes fluttered open and Kathryn pulled at his jacket. "Get up! They’re coming and we have to get out of here!"

  "Kathryn? Wh-what are you talking about?" He rubbed the back of his head as he sat up.

  The creatures were a short distance away and they didn’t have much time. "We need to get the hell out of here." She pointed and his head swiveled to follow her arm.