Survive the Night

by Katie Ruggle

  Grabbing his phone, that feeling from earlier—the one telling him that something was very, very wrong—hit him again, a hundred times stronger that time. He called the number for dispatch, but his phone gave a beep and displayed No Service.

  “What?” He always got service in Monroe, even this close to the pass. There were a few locations on the way to his place where cell service was sketchy, but he hadn’t discovered a dead spot—until now. Otto wondered if the rockslide had blocked the signal. He turned in his seat, moving his phone around, trying to improve the reception. The no service message didn’t change.

  With a huff of irritation, he lowered his phone, but a light to the east caught his eye—a light that seemed to be moving. He squinted through the passenger-side window, trying to make it out. At first, he thought it was headlights, but it was too high in the air. Was this the mystery helicopter Nan and Branson had been talking about?

  He peered through the snowstorm, trying to see more than that faint, moving light. As he watched, there was a bright flash. Otto knew what it was even before the crash of sound caught up to the light, so loud that it shook the ground and his car with it. Otto felt as if time was looping around on him, that he was watching that first explosion over again, but then logic returned, and Otto knew that it was on the other side of town. He knew in his gut that the east mountain pass—the only other way out of Monroe besides the blocked west pass Otto had just left—was blown.

  If a helicopter was bombing the passes on either side of Monroe, that meant that someone—a “friend” of Sarah’s brother, Aaron Blanchett, came immediately to mind—was knocking out highway access to the town. Had the FBI arrived to pick up Aaron and the other two men yet? Were they trapped in town, or had they gotten clear before the bombs were dropped? It seemed like a huge coincidence that all this was happening around the same time the men were supposed to have been picked up by the FBI. Otto sent a quick glance at the still-blank radio display. What if they were knocking out communications as well? The idea seemed crazy—although not as crazy as the thought that two random, unrelated explosions happened at opposite sides of town within minutes of each other.

  Moving the car so his headlights pointed straight at the rockslide, he took some—admittedly blurry—pictures. He tried texting one of them to Blessard, Theo, and Hugh, but it wouldn’t send. Putting his phone away, he did a three-point turn and drove back toward Monroe.

  The wind hit the side of his car, and Otto fought to stay in his lane. Snow flew across his windshield, making it seem like his squad car was spinning around in a circle. As he retraced his route, he noted that his tire tracks had already been erased by the vicious wind. Normally, after going around the first curve, he could see the entire town of Monroe stretched out in front of him. Tonight, the snow was obscuring the view. Nothing was visible except for a few of the brighter lights, and a slight lightening of the area compared to when he looked at the darkness to the west.

  The snow was getting thicker. He slowed even more as he curved around the side of the mountain, despite his intense need to slam his foot down on the accelerator. He had to find the lieutenant to see what the status of the FBI pickup was. Once again, he was grateful that Sarah and Grace were in Dresden. Whatever was happening, Monroe was not a safe place to be tonight.

  As Otto followed the next hairpin turn, his back wheels spun for a second before finding traction. He needed to stop by the station, figure out what was going on with their communications, check in with the lieutenant, and get his four-wheel-drive vehicle. He briefly wondered how Sarah was and whether she and Grace would try to make it back before the danger had passed, but he shoved the question out of his head. That thought led to panic, and he didn’t have time for that.

  His mouth set grimly, he concentrated on making his way down the hill and around the last curve. After that, it was a direct shot into town. As he came out of the final turn, Otto straightened the wheel—but the car didn’t straighten. It slid sideways, barreling toward the side of the road and a row of evergreens. Otto fought the car, hauling the wheel to the left as hard as he could, but it skidded toward the trees. He braced for the hit as they neared the edge of the road. The right two wheels slipped off the shoulder and into the drift collected at the edge of the road. The car tilted as the right side sank lower, the spinning wheels sending up a spray of white powder as he tried unsuccessfully to drive out of the snowy ditch. He shifted to reverse and then to drive and back to reverse again, trying to rock the car out of the ditch, but he had no luck. The car was stuck. With a bitten-off curse, Otto shoved back the voice in his head warning him that time was ticking until the next bomb was dropped. Literally spinning his wheels wouldn’t help anyone. Taking a deep, calming breath, Otto got out of his car.

  The wind hit him like a punch, the snow painfully hard and sharp. The BB-like pellets stung his face and neck, and he hoped desperately that Sarah was safe inside a Dresden hotel, and not having to fight through this weather. Circling the car, he quieted the panic building inside him and examined the situation, kicking some of the drifted snow clear of the wheels.

  It was too deep, though, and the car had become entrenched. If he’d had his shovel, Otto would’ve had a chance of digging it out, but that wasn’t an option. “Damn it, Hugh,” he muttered, frustration and the suffocating feeling of urgency pressing on him.

  Reaching into his car, he turned off the engine. He’d slid far enough to the side that the placement shouldn’t be an issue for anyone else traveling on the road, he thought automatically before catching himself. There wouldn’t be anyone else on the road tonight—the explosions had prevented that. What was happening to their town?

  Pushed by a building sense of urgency, Otto started jogging toward the station.

  Chapter 17

  At the sound of the barn door closing, Sarah huddled closer to the stall partition, trying to make herself invisible. She put a hand on Mort’s collar. Xena wasn’t a barker. In fact, Sarah hadn’t heard her make any noise at all, except for an occasional, almost inaudible whine. Mort, on the other hand, had been trained to bark. He barked to alert his people of danger and to intimidate and sometimes just because he was excited. Sarah was ready to quiet him, but she knew it would be too late. If he barked, then they were caught…and dead.

  The fire and wind howled even louder outside, the sound muted only slightly by the barn walls. It covered the sound of footsteps, and Sarah didn’t know if the intruder—or intruders—were still standing by the door or if they were right at the stall, leaning close enough to peer down and see her and the dogs. Bean snorted, a long, loud sound of fear, his muscles shivering with tension. It was unnerving, crouching so close to the huge, skittish creature’s hooves. One spook, and Sarah could have a hoofprint on her head.

  “What does he want us to do with the horse?” a male voice asked.

  Sarah started to shake. If they meant to hurt Bean, she wouldn’t be able to keep hiding. She’d have to do something to prevent it.

  “Who cares,” another voice came. It sounded familiar, and Sarah wondered if it was a person she knew. How many times had they passed each other in the hallway or on the grounds? She might have greeted him cheerfully, not realizing that he would one day hunt her down…that he might possibly be the one to kill her. “Just leave it. Let’s search the place and go.”

  “We’re going to just leave the horse in here? What if it starves to death?” The voice was closer, clearer, and Sarah started making frantic plans in her head. If they spotted her, she could run or fight or…do something. The stall itself didn’t have any escape hatch, except for the one sliding door. She’d basically locked herself in a cage. There was no escape if they found her.

  “It’s not our problem,” the second, deeper voice said. “Someone’ll find it. Cops and feds’ll be all over this place tomorrow.”

  “Nope. We’ve wiped out their systems. No phones, radios, cells, wirele
ss… They’re not talking to nobody.” The first guy sounded almost giddy.

  “Let it out, then, if you want.” The second man said in a bored voice. “It’ll survive on its own. There are wild horses all over the place out here, I’ve heard.”

  “Yeah?” He sounded too close, too loud. “That’s awesome. It’s like the wild, wild West out here.”

  She needed a plan, or at least a weapon. Why hadn’t she grabbed that sledgehammer when she had a chance? That did remind her of her knife, and she very gingerly unzipped the main pocket on the pack. The nylon fabric vibrated with Bob’s growls, and Sarah said a silent prayer of gratitude that the thunderous noises outside covered any sound from either the annoyed cat or from her attempts at quietly opening the pack. Finally, there was a hole large enough for her to slip her hand in. She felt around for the knife. It seemed to take forever, and she was afraid that the sliding door would open at any second. Finally, her fingers closed around the cool metal of the knife, and she almost sobbed in gratitude.

  “I’ll let him out, then.” His voice was so clear that he had to be right next to the stall door. Sarah started breathing in quick gulps. “Hey, there’s a goat in there, too! Can I let the goat out? Are there wild goats?”

  “Yeah, dumb-ass. Haven’t you heard of mountain goats?”

  “Right. I’ll let both of them go, then.”

  “You do that.” At least the second man was on the other side of the barn, judging by the faintness of his voice.

  As she pulled the weapon out of the pack, Mort started leaning toward the sliding door. Sarah caught his collar, mentally begging him to stay quiet and still. Xena pressed against her, as if she could hear Sarah’s pleading thoughts. Sarah was concentrating so hard on Mort, so worried that he’d start to bark, that she wasn’t watching Bean.

  When the horse charged toward the door, it startled Sarah so much that she almost shrieked, swallowing down the scream at the last moment before it escaped. Bean, ears pinned, snaked his head toward the door, striking out at it with a front hoof. The slam of metal on metal as the edging on the door hit the frame rang out, louder than the wind or the raging fire outside.

  “Shit!” The man’s voice was farther from the stall, and Sarah started to shake, partially in relief and partially from fear. “That thing’s crazy!”

  Bean struck the door again, the loud bang making Sarah jump.

  “It’s a demon horse,” the guy said. He was still a good distance from the stall, and Sarah began to breathe more slowly. Good boy, Bean. Keep him away. “His eyes are glowing red. Hey, Shelton! Check it out. His eyes are all possessed and shit, like that statue at the airport.”

  “I’m going to be all ‘possessed and shit’ if you don’t help me search and quit messing around with that horse.”

  The man moved away from the stall, his grumbling about ungrateful devil horses getting fainter and fainter until Sarah could only hear the wind and fire again. Her hand dropped from Mort’s collar as the dog relaxed slightly, although she kept a hand on his back, stroking him lightly with her fingers.

  Now that her heart wasn’t thundering in her ears, Sarah could hear the faint drone of Bob’s growls, but she hoped the men couldn’t hear or, if they could, they would just assume it was the wind. She patted the pack lightly where a catlike bulge was, but that only increased the growling, so she moved her hand away.

  “It’s clear,” Shelton said, his voice just loud enough for Sarah to make out his words. “She must’ve been in the house. Let’s go back to town. One down; one to go.”

  “Target practice!” the other man laughed loudly, making both Sarah and Xena start. “Boom!”

  The roaring of the wind and flames was deafening for a moment until they shut the door behind them with a bang. Sarah sat in the stall for a long time, even after she heard the sound of what she was guessing was a helicopter. White spotlights lit up the barn, making Bean shift uneasily, his head high in the air. The whump-whump-whump that they’d heard before running for the bunker was almost unbearably loud, but it faded gradually until they were left with just the red glow from the fire and the howling wind.

  Sarah climbed to her feet, her muscles protesting being held in such a tense, crouched position for so long. Peeking over the solid half-wall, she made sure no one else was there before straightening completely. A part of her remained terrified that the guys were still both there, waiting right outside the stall. She didn’t truly believe they were gone until she saw the empty barn.

  Urgency flowed through her. She carefully lifted the backpack, sliding her arms through the straps and buckling the one around her waist to keep the pack as stable as possible. Poor Bob. He was such a good cat. If he’d yowled, even once, their hiding place would’ve been discovered. Sarah’s skin prickled with sweat at the thought.

  Moving carefully toward Bean, she tried to push down her anxiety. He didn’t need her amping up his nerves. The aggressive display had freaked her out a little, though. Before, he’d seemed flighty, but Sarah hadn’t expected the charging and striking. He shifted, his ears flicking toward her and then to the sides, as if to take in as many sounds as possible.

  “Hey, Bean,” she said softly, probably too quietly for even the horse to hear. Having to speak kept her breathing, though. “You feel like getting out of here? I know that your house didn’t get blown to bits like ours did, but I’d rather not leave you here alone. What do you say?” After a few tense seconds, he blew out a breath and lowered his head slightly. His ears were still swiveling around, but Sarah couldn’t blame him for that. She was jumping at every sound, too.

  Moving slowly to his left side, she slid the halter on, buckling it with shaking fingers. As she pushed the stall door open and led Bean out, she glanced at the goat.

  “Coming, Hortense?” If she had to lead the goat, too, that was going to take a hand—and a halter—she didn’t have. To her relief, Hortense snatched one more bite of hay before following them out of the stall. The dogs surged out last, staying clear of Bean’s hooves. Circling around, Mort took the lead again, heading toward the barn doors, while Xena walked close to Sarah’s left side.

  Bean stared at everything, but he didn’t spook or yank away or crash into Sarah or do any of the hundred things that she feared he’d do. Sarah looked at the main barn doors, but her paranoia about someone waiting outside for them was strong—even more than when she was in the stall, scared to look around. Besides, there was a raging snowstorm happening outside. Her gaze turned toward the tunnel entrance.

  She wasn’t sure if she could even get Bean into the underground passage, but she wanted to try. If she could get them away from the house before going outside, she felt like they would have a greater chance of escaping without being spotted. She didn’t really have a plan beyond getting all the animals to town and finding Otto. That was enough for the moment.

  It took her a while to find the latch on the doors. They’d been camouflaged to blend into the rest of the wall. If she hadn’t just emerged from them a short time before, Sarah wouldn’t have even known they were there. She ran her fingers over the rough wood surface for what felt like hours, although she knew it was only minutes. Finally, frustrated, she yanked her gloves off and felt around again.

  There! Her fingers touched a square of smoother wood, and that pulled down to reveal a latch. Relief poured over her, and her knees sagged a little, but she stiffened them. It was nowhere near time to collapse in a heap. Sarah still had to get all the animals out and make it to town. As she glanced over her ragtag, scared group around her—except for Hortense, who was nibbling some spilled grain on the ground, as content as she could be—Sarah felt a wave of panic pressing against her. She pushed back, damming up the fear into a tiny box labeled “open later.” She needed to be the adult—well, the human—in the room. They were counting on her to keep them safe, so keep them safe she would. Sarah had a moment of thankfulness that
she didn’t have the puppies with her as well. Bob would’ve had to share his pack, and Sarah was pretty sure he wouldn’t have been happy about that.

  Unlatching the door, she pulled both open as wide as they’d go and turned on the light. The opening to the tunnel was wider than most two-horse trailers, so she was hopeful that Bean would be okay walking through it. It was as if Otto and the previous homeowner had seen the future and known that someone was going to have to sneak horses out of the barn at some point, because there weren’t any steps. A fairly steep ramp led down into the tunnel. Once she got Bean down that, the rest was easy. It was simply walking.

  “Ready, everyone?” Feigning confidence, Sarah started walking down the ramp into the tunnel. Xena and Mort followed immediately. It took a moment for Bean to follow. First, he stretched his neck toward the tunnel entrance and blew one of his scared snorts. “Don’t be silly. It’s just a tunnel. It’s like loading in a very, very long trailer.”

  Sarah swore that Bean gave her the side eye.

  “Fine, it’s a little scarier than that, but not much. There’s nothing in there to hurt you, though. I can promise you that.” She started forward again, and he followed, shooting through the opening like a ball out of a cannon. Sarah jumped out of the way, nearly tripping over Xena, and braced herself for the massive jerk on the lead line. Once Bean was in the tunnel, though, he stopped abruptly, spinning around to face the entrance he’d just plowed through.

  “That’s one way to do it, I guess,” Sarah said under her breath. Hortense walked in with no drama or worry, and Sarah wished that all the animals had her calm smarts. She pulled the doors closed, loving the solid click of the latch fastening, before heading down the tunnel. Mort trotted ahead, as if scouting the way, and Bean walked willingly enough next to her.

  When he reached the T-intersection, Mort turned toward the house, and Sarah called him back. A pang went through her. The house was gone. They could hole up in the bunker, but it didn’t feel safe anymore. What if the fire spread downward, and they were trapped in a smoky hole in the ground? The idea made her shiver and her spine prickle with cold sweat. No, they’d go to town, like she’d originally planned. Sure, there were scary guys out to kill her, but they’d figure it out.