Except for the voices.
They whispered to her now in delicate croons, riding the gentle purring of the wind, softly tickling her eardrums with their sweet promise of succour. A voice that she didn’t recognise as human, yet she could interpret their every syllable. They promised hope, spoke the words she so desperately craved to hear, promised Amy an out.
Brandon cleared his throat, head resting against the wall. His eyes were closed, head angled towards the ceiling. Sleep would come soon. Sleep seemed to hit him like a bullet train, and when his breathing turned to snores, maybe then she would try…
She couldn’t pinpoint when the voices first came. All she could guess was that in the frenzy of their sprinting through the halls and the chaos at the top of the stairway they had broken through the barrier. When her eyes were closed, thoughts pervaded her dreams, visions of simply walking out of this janitorial dungeon and into the school. Her mother would be waiting for her there, her online game of Scrabble forsaken, her iPad resting on the table beside her latest of many glasses of wine. Brandon’s mother would be there, too. Sophie’s and Cody’s beside her, Kyle’s waiting by the door. They would be smiling, waiting with open arms to tell them the monsters were gone, and all would be okay.
All would be okay…
A single tear traced down Amy’s cheek, her lips pursed together as she fought a fresh wave of tears. Her eyes fixed to the highest point of the metal staircase. She didn’t want to be here, couldn’t stand being here a moment longer than she needed to be. She was thankful to have Brandon beside her but, more than anything, she wanted her freedom.
The walls closed in, claustrophobia putting its pressure on every part of her body. She choked from it, her tongue too large for her mouth, as though it was blocking the air from entering through her throat. Her hands were clammy inside her gloves and as she pushed herself to her feet, she choked up a little, a strange guttural sob escaping her lips. Her head pounded, her eyes were blurry.
She glanced down at Brandon, blood running cold as his eyes fixed on hers.
“Are you okay?”
Amy turned her gaze to the top of the stairs.
His eyes widened. “Are you crazy? Don’t even think about it.”
Amy took a step forward, eyes closing as Brandon pushed himself to his feet. She swallowed loudly, then took a long breath.
“They’re still out there. You know that, don’t you?” Brandon’s voice was soft, an urgency in every syllable. “Whatever you’re thinking right now, this is the safest place. If the others come back, they’ll come with help. You’re safe with me. Trust me. Please”
Amy took another step.
Brandon delicately touched her arm. “Amy…”
Amy couldn’t tear her eyes away from the door. Now that she was closer, she realised that all it would take was a few bounding steps and she’d be out of here. She could outrun those things. They’d all done it once. Run to the door they had arrived through, sprint through the snow, make it home before morning crowed and her mother realised what was going on.
The voices confirmed her desire, tempting her with every line. Soft hisses speaking Shakespearean sonnets.
“Amy.” Brandon’s voice grew sharp. She hadn’t noticed him walk in front of her, but now his rotund body filled her vision. “Sit down. Let’s talk you through this.”
For a moment they simply stood, Brandon scanning Amy’s face while Amy stared blankly ahead. Eventually, she broke, and Brandon guided her back to the wall where she slid down and took a pew, head tilted to the side, eyes staring vacantly at the floor.
Brandon rooted through the desk drawers and brought them both a snack bar. He offered Amy two, but she declined with a gentle shake of her head.
“You need to keep your strength up,” Brandon said, munching away at his own bar. “We’ve both been through a lot. Food will help. Sleep will do better.”
Amy reluctantly put the bar to her mouth. She bit down, but laboured each chew, not gaining any joy in the flavor. What should have been a sugary delight turned to grey mush, she might as well have been eating ash.
“Talk me through how you’re feeling.”
Amy didn’t reply. What was the point? He’d never understand.
“Amy, we’re in this together, remember. You’re not alone. I’m here with you. We’ll get through this.”
Brandon continued, but Amy wasn’t listening. As her mouth robotically chewed the bar, her thoughts drifted off to better times. In her mind she was sat on the sofa, sharing a bottle of wine with her mother. Her father was off in the garage tinkering, as he so often did. The sun shone through the windows and the stereo played the blues. Her mother always loved the blues. She loved the saxophone. Amy always pictured herself falling in love for a saxophonist, someone who could soothe her to sleep at night.
Kyle couldn’t play the saxophone.
Nowhere in Amy’s vision was she trapped underground. Nowhere in this vision was she held hostage by a fat nobody who thought he knew what was best for her.
Nowhere in this vision was there a series of unidentified monsters waiting beyond the door.
Nowhere in this vision had Kyle broken her trust and attacked her best friend.
The door was a portal.
A portal to freedom.
And Amy was desperate to step inside.
7
Tori Asplin
From the moment that Alex faded from view, Tori couldn’t help but feel uneasy. He was her comfort blanket, her protector from the storm and its minions. Even just the mere notion of Alex disappearing from her line of sight put her on edge. How had she become so dependent on him so quickly?
Damien shifted in her lap and pawed at his eyes. He cuddled against her, affording her some of the warmth back from her jacket. She unzipped it and placed the jacket around them both once more, each body feeding what little warmth there was to the other.
“Excuse me?” Damien whispered, his voice barely audible.
Tori offered a reassuring smile. “Yeah?”
Damien considered his response, eyes sparkling with an intelligence that seemed beyond a boy of his age. “I think I had a dream. My mum and dad had… turned to monsters.”
Tori’s stomach twisted into a painful knot. Since her talk with Alex about his visit with the Iñupiat tribe and the threat of the creatures they were facing, she had pushed back the memories of what had happened at Harvey’s house. Now they came flooding back in high definition, the kick of the rifle that jarred her arm as she aimed down at the floor and…
The boy read something in Tori’s face and lowered his eyes. “Are we going to be okay?”
“I don’t know. I honestly wish I could tell you different.” She stroked his hair. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired. And cold. My feet hurt.”
Tori adjusted them both so that Damien’s feet were tucked inside his mother’s spacious jacket. He was only wearing light socks, the cotton damp. It was no wonder they were hurting. If they weren’t careful, it would only be a matter of time until the first signs of frostbite reared their ugly head.
“Are you going to hurt me?” Damien’s eyes brimmed with tears.
Tori hugged the boy tightly to her chest and rocked him. “No. No, I’m not. As long as you’re with us you’re going to be okay. You believe that, don’t you?”
Damien stared ahead, no suggestion of belief in his body language. “I suppose. Why’s your boyfriend gone back out into the storm?”
Despite the fact that Damien wasn’t even looking at her, she found herself blushing. She stuttered a little as she said, “He’s… He’s not my boyfriend. He’s a friend. Someone who we’re incredibly lucky to have with us. As long as he’s here, we’re safe. As long as he’s with us, we’ll be okay. I promise.”
“But he’s not with us. He’s outside.”
Tori gave an appreciative nod. The boy had smarts, she had to give it to him.
Her nodding stopped when a voice spoke from behind them.
“Ain’t that about the truth of it all?”
A blinding flash of white light bloomed in Tori’s vision as something smacked against the back of her head. The pain was both hot and cold at once, the force of it knocking both Tori and Damien onto their fronts. Tori had just enough time to put out her hands to stop her body squashing the boy inside the jacket before she rolled onto her side and spun to face her attacker.
What little colour remained in Tori’s face was lost the moment she looked into the cold dead eyes hiding behind the mask. If the beard wasn’t a clear giveaway of who her attacker was, then it was the body that she had spent nights lusting after, exposed and raw in front of her, no shade of discretion covering his flesh which had morphed into a sickly white as of the wax of a melting candle.
Karl stared blankly through the eye holes of the bear’s skull, the lower jaw missing and an upper row of sharp, predatory teeth hiding the majority of his features. He spoke in tones devoid of emotion. “Tori.”
“Karl?” Tori was unable to believe what she was seeing. “What happened to you?” It was then that she spotted the crusted stains of something dark lingering around his maw, clumps of burgundy clinging to his beard. “They got to you, didn’t they?”
Karl didn’t answer. Instead, he crossed to Tori, moving faster than she could register until her hair was bundled in the grip of his fist. He pulled her from the floor, holding her up until she was almost suspended in the air. The tips of her toes scrabbled for the ground as pain throbbed in her head, clumps of hair slowly working free from the root.
Damien shifted in the jacket, hiding from sight, each tiny, shuffling movement adding more weight to Tori’s body which tugged her hair. She pirouetted indelicately until she was facing Karl, and that’s when she let it out.
The scream was fuelled by horror at the intention she found in Karl’s eyes. She had only seen that look on documentary channels and corners of the darker side of the web, yet it was unmistakable. With his spare hand, Karl removed the bone helmet and freed his locks of dark hair. There was no question now that it was blood clumped into the weaves of his beard. There was no question, as his lips peeled back, and his eyes found her neck that he wanted to bite her. She had seen that look recently in the dark eyes of Harvey and Sherri Dutton, and it was a look that she wished she’d never learned.
She lashed a hand towards Karl, even as the scream poured from her throat. Desperation fuelled the nightmarish screech, her fingernails catching Karl’s cheek and digging a deep trench into his strangely cold flesh. The skin waxen and damp. Pink streaks appeared where she had scratched, welting with droplets of blood as her other hand attacked the right cheek. Damien cried out in fear, still hidden from view.
Karl pulled her closer and bashed his forehead into Tori’s. White fireworks exploded in her vision, the world going hazy for a few disorientating seconds. Her scream cut off as the pain took over, distraction coming from the pieces of hair pulling free from her scalp.
Tori spun. Another full circle and he headbutted her again, waiting for Tori’s eyes to connect with his. She gave a miserable moan, warm blood trickling from her nose. When she gained her bearings once more, Karl’s eyes were fixed on the red trail, a string of saliva pooling and dripping from the corner of his mouth.
“No. Karl, please…” she begged, wishing Damien would hold still. “You know me. You know me…”
Karl didn’t. Not anymore. He bared his teeth and hypnotically drew Tori towards him, holding her from the hair like an edible puppet on a string. Tori grew desperate and let out another scream, wondering where the hell Alex was. How could he not hear her? This monster was attacking her, and yet her saviour was nowhere to be found. Had something gotten him, too?
Had Karl gotten Alex first?
She lashed out with everything she had, ignoring the thumping ache at the front of her skull. Her hands beat his flesh, her feet kicked at his legs, and yet he showed no sign of abating. The acrid scent of his breath—something that Karl had never suffered with in all those months of their romantic engagements—poured over her, her nose wrinkling in disgust. She screamed and kicked and writhed and fought, but it was for nought. Karl reared his head back and, as Tori expected the blow to come to her head, it instead came to her shoulder.
His teeth clamped onto the material of her jacket. She was surprised by his strength as he tore a hole in the material. Another few efforts like that and he’d be at the flesh. In that moment it was impossible to believe that she had once loved this man. Had shared a bed with him. Had curled up by the fire, knitted her fingers into his chest hair and wished that he’d stay forever.
What the hell has happened to you?
Tori shut her eyes, failing to hold back tears as she kicked at Karl, this time catching her foot between his legs. For the first time, he registered a sign of pain as he doubled over, the air knocked from his lungs.
Tori dropped to her feet.
Damien spilled out of the bottom of the jacket and landed in a pile on the floor.
Karl looked up, attention suddenly drawn by the wriggling mass at Tori’s feet. She massaged her head as her eyes widened. “Karl, no.” She fought to open the jacket, the place where the boy had been safe and unseen, unsure what else to do in that moment. “Damien, back inside. Now.”
But Damien wasn’t listening. Already, he was scrambling to his feet, the boy vulnerable and innocent in his flannel pyjamas as his damp feet padded across the church. He leaped down the alter stairs, struggled to find his balance as he skidded. He found his footing, headed towards the pews, and ran.
A wry smile crept onto Karl’s face at the prospect of the hunt. He was about to give chase to the boy when something exploded behind his heads, a plaster casting of Christ was obliterated as the bullet tore into the wall.
Karl and Tori looked in the direction of the gunshot, finding Alex’s form hiding behind the doorway. For a fleeting moment, Tori’s heart lifted, thinking that she had been saved yet again by this stranger from a foreign land. However, when Karl grabbed her from behind and pulled her to his muscular chest, she knew that things wouldn’t be so easy.
“Gun down!” Karl bellowed, surprising Tori with the force of his voice. Despite his massive size, he crouched behind her, lips dangerously close to the soft groove of her neck. His breath tickled the skin, a sensation that had previously made her weak at the knees, but now only filled her with a creeping sense of dread. Her skin broke out in gooseflesh, her eyes closing as she wished she was anywhere but there.
“Let her go,” Alex commanded, creeping around the doorway the moment he spotted that Karl was weaponless. The rifle led the way, his steps painstakingly slow.
His finger flexed on the trigger.
“I see it didn’t take long for you to move on,” Karl whispered into Tori’s ear. “You know that I could crush him with one hand, don’t you?”
Tori gulped, Karl’s tone making her nauseous.
Alex closed the gap between them, stopping at the base of the altar. At this distance, Tori knew there was very little margin for error if Alex were to shoot now. One half an inch in the wrong direction, and it would be bye-bye for good. Although he had been a good omen to her so far, how much did she truly trust Alex, a man who hailed from a country where firearms were all but banned except to farmers, to take an accurate shot?
“Please,” Tori managed. “Karl, let me go.”
“You know this man?” Alex asked.
“Oh, I’d say it was more than that, wasn’t it, sweetheart?” There was a hint of sadistic glee in Karl’s voice, an animation she hadn’t heard before. He had always been so brooding, so cool. Now, he was gleeful in his madness, some force deep down in the well of his stomach finding delight in destruction. “Tori was my little fuck-toy. My piece on the side. My secret affair.” A broad grin broke across his face, dark eyes glinting. “You were my sack of sex, weren’t you, babe? Ready and willing to do whatever it was that I asked, just so you could get your kicks. A v
essel for my seed…”
“Stop it!” Tori cried, pained by his words. The wound was still too fresh. It had only been a few hours since he had shattered her heart and left the pieces scattered on the floor. “Stop…”
Karl laughed, the force of it filling the church with its demonic echoes. Tori’s eyes glanced at the many statues, her silent mind praying for that miracle to come any time soon.
“Is the truth too raw for you, Tori?” Karl jeered. “You had no idea that you were nothing more than a hobby for me? Entertainment. A piece of sport. Who else would be dumb enough to fall head over heels for a married man? Especially in this shit-heap town. Who else would be so naive and ignorant, so self-involved that they couldn’t see the truth? You couldn’t see past your fucking phone, could you? Couldn’t look past all your devoted admirers? I was never going to leave Alexa and Alice. They were my loves. They were the ones I went home to at the end of a hard day. You were a pounding bag, no more use to me than a fucking blow-up doll—”
“Enough!” Alex fired a warning shot past Tori’s head, another plaster ornament exploding into powder. Tori could barely see him through the blur of her tears. “Release her, or the next one will be for you.”
Karl roared with laughter, his grip tightening around Tori’s throat. He pressed against her back, something rigid and unwanted poking into the crevice between her ass cheeks. He sniffed deeply of her hair, then licked the back of her neck. Tori shuddered at the cold trail that it left behind, then let out a banshee shriek as his teeth grazed her skin.
The next thing she knew, Karl had taken his first bite.
8
Alex Goins
The scream was enough to spur Alex on. The man was a brute, a giant, but he was lacking the one thing that would give him the true advantage—a weapon.
Alex rushed forward, unable to process the reality of what he was seeing as Karl’s head reared back from Tori’s neck and a spray of red mist followed. There was something fleshy and pink between his teeth, an orgasmic look on his face as he chewed and savoured the taste of her skin.
When Winter Comes | Book 3 | Black Ice Kills Page 4