by JA Ellis
day it just sounded like less. Either way it was a far from comforting sound, and she began to wish that Sam was there. Hell, I wish anyone was here. Why did I have to be so stubborn about staying here by myself?
She pushed herself away from the wall, and hobbled to the bathroom where she dug around in the cabinet below the sink for the first-aid kit. She sat on the closed lid of the toilet, and peeled off her boots and snow pants, pressing her lips closed so only a high-pitched whimper of pain escaped. There were several puncture wounds in her calf oozing blood, and there was a tear in the skin about two inches long. Luckily, it didn't look like any skin was actually missing. The whole area was starting to bruise from the force of the thing's jaws. She closed her eyes again, feeling hot and clammy at the same time. Breathe deep and don't pass out. Please don't pass out.
When the ringing in her ears stopped, she opened her eyes again, inspected a leg that didn't look any better, and popped the latches on the first-aid kit. There were band aids – lots of band aids – a roll of gauze, and a few sterile pads. She looked from the supplies to her leg, and back at the kit. “Goddammit.” She would just have to make do.
There was a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in the cabinet over the sink. She awkwardly lifted her leg into the bathtub, then taking a deep breath, poured the entire contents of the bottle over her leg. Jumper whimpered along with her as pink tinged bubbles rolled off her leg, and hissed into the bath tub. Then she took the sterile pads, placed them over the gash, and wrapped the gauze around her leg. Medical tape in place, a few of the larger band aids on some of the puncture wounds, and she inspected her work. Finally, she heaved herself off the toilet and opened the medicine cabinet over the sink. There was the Excedrin. It looked like the Holy Grail to her, and she dry swallowed two of the extra strength tablets hoping they would do something for the pain in her head and leg. She hop-hobbled up the stairs to the loft to get a fresh pair of pants and socks. The entire time the creatures sat outside, chattering and snarling, occasionally thumping against the walls and the deck.
“All right, Jump,” she said the dog. “Guess we hunker down here?” The dog wagged his stub at the sound of his name, but didn't answer her question. And a good question it was. How long could she stay here? How long would the creatures stay? She hobbled back to the foyer and retrieved the rifle. It smelled of spent gun powder. She went back to Sam's closet and took the box of rounds out of the drawer. After all that she settled on the sofa and listened to the things outside.
6
Hours passed. By the clock on the wall it was 5 PM when the chattering and snarling ceased, the thumping eased, and she heard the creatures leaving the deck with a pattering of footsteps that would almost be endearing if she didn't know what was making the sound. After ten minutes of silence, Charlotte left the sofa and carefully pulled the curtain away from the window beside the front door. It was already getting dark; shadows were creeping in from the trees, but she could make out the trampled snow, and a red tuft of fur from the dead creature in the yard. Around it the snow was darker, and though she couldn't perceive the color in the gloom, she knew it was blood. Maybe some of it was even hers.
She dropped the curtain and considered. How long until they came back? Where were they? Where did they go when they weren't terrorizing her? They had come out of the trees this morning, but the thing is, they hadn't been there before. They just appeared.
She shook her head to clear the questions. None of it would help her now. The main problem was she didn't want to stay here another night. She could get the truck down the drive, but would it make it through the last few feet she hadn't dug out? And if she did, what then? The road hadn't been cleared yet, and she didn't want to be stuck in a truck in the middle of the road at night.
Sighing at the pain in her calf, she went into the kitchen and pulled a box of cereal from the cupboard and ate a few handfuls before feeding Jumper. Neither of them had eaten during the day while those things were out there. She hadn't even thought of being hungry until then. She changed the batteries in the flashlight, and refilled the kerosene lamp, checked the wood stove where the fire had burned so low there was nothing left but a pile of warm ash. She looked at the small pile of wood by the back door, and sighed some more. It wouldn't get her through the night, and she was too scared to go out there to get more.
Jumper stood by the back door, doing his doggie pee-pee dance. He had to go out, but she was afraid to let him go. The dog whimpered more loudly, and pawed a the rug in front of the door. Dog's have better perceptions than humans. He would be able to smell if those things were still out there, right? Finally, she gave in. The light was leaving, and it was better now than later. She pushed him away from the door and lifted the latch. The sliding door squeaked on its track as she pulled it open and she winced at the sound, but undeterred Jumper squeezed past her legs as soon as the opening was large enough. She watched as he ran down the steps and lifted his leg against the side of the deck, marking it. The scent of the vanished creatures wafted into her, and she gagged. Jumper ran around the side of the house, leaving her sight. She shouted for him, and the dog appeared a few seconds later, sniffing his way back through the snow. Charlotte held the rifle with a death grip until he was close enough to grab and shove back inside.
She was pulling the door shut when she heard something. She paused, listening. A low rumble. The scrape of metal on asphalt.
Snowplow.
Charlotte pulled the door shut, rushed to the front of the house, and peered through the window there. Her breath fogged the glass, and she wiped the cloud away with the palm of her hand before leaning in again, holding her breath. There was nothing for a long time, and she was afraid that she had imagined the sound. Then through the window she heard it. The engine of the plow and the sound of the blade scraping through the snow and across the black top.
“Yesyesyesyes,” she whispered into the glass, fogging it up again. She waited until she could see the headlights of the plow through the trees before moving.
She put on her boots and coat, ignored the snow pants. Hat, gloves and scarf. Keys. They were in the tray next to the phone charger. She grabbed Jumper's leash, but didn't clip it to his collar. They could move more quickly if he was untethered. She stuffed her cell phone into her pocket, and picked up the flashlight.
She called for Jumper and he happily followed her to the front door. She turned the dead bolt, and the little thumb lock, and then slowly pulled the door open. There was a sucking sound as the weather seal let go of the door. The glass in the storm door was covered in web of cracks, but was still in one piece. She pushed it open, and again, Jumper rushed past, his nose buried in the snow, leg lifted against the porch. Charlotte shooed him along, towards the truck. Her boots crunched and slipped on the packed snow, and more than once she found herself flailing her arms to keep her balance. The truck seemed so far away, but she was pulling the handle in less than a minute. Snow that had accumulated during the night fell from the roof in a sheet.
“Get in,” Jumper did as he was told, and she clambered in after him, shutting the door with a slam. More snow slid off the driver door window.
Charlotte fumbled with the keys, finally pulling her glove off to get a good grip. She put the key in the ignition and listened to the engine turn without catching. “You gotta be fucking kidding me!” She stopped cranking the engine, took a deep breath, whispered a prayer to a god she didn't quite believe in, then turned the key again. This time the engine caught and the truck rumbled to life. Relief flooded through her; her shoulders relaxed, and her head didn't hurt so much. Until she turned on the windshield wipers.
There was a droning noise from somewhere in the front of the cab, but the wipers refused to move. The tension in her shoulders returned. There was too much snow on the windshield. The wipers couldn't compete.
“What now?” she asked. Jumper only looked at her. She couldn't very well drive anywhere like this. She leaned over and dug the scraper-brush combo out from under th
e passenger seat, pushing Jumper's nose away from her as he tried to “help”. She turned on the headlights and took a look out of the drivers side window. The world in front of the truck lit up as if it was daylight, but the world beyond was quickly becoming indistinct as the world grew darker.
“All right,” she said. “Stay. Don't move.” She turned the heater on blast, and opened her door. Over the sound of the engine and the heater she couldn't hear anything else. She pushed Jumper back as he tried to follow her, and shut the door, glancing in every direction. She gripped the scraper tightly in both hands in case she needed to use it as a weapon. Seeing nothing out of place, she began to brush the snow off the windshield. It was loose and powdery and she barely needed to use the scraper. If there was anything to be glad about the last two days it was at least there had only been snow, no ice or sleet. She was finished with the driver's side and starting on the passenger side when she heard the chattering rising up out of the dark, surrounding her. She froze, barely moving her head to look around. She couldn't see anything, but they were there. She hurried around the front of the truck, catching a glimpse of