Tales of Chills and Thrills: The Mystery Thriller Horror Box Set (7 Mystery Thriller Horror Novels) (38 page)

“What if the wolves return?”

“They will,” Major said. “But not for two
or three nights. I wouldn’t linger here for too long, if I were you.”

***

Samuel sat at the base of the tree that
had become his refuge from the pack. He leaned his head back and closed his
eyes. What he recognized as night returned, smothering what remained of the
reflected light in the sky. He decided against following Major into the woods.
The man must have been here much longer than he had, and it would not be
difficult for Major to lose him. And then Samuel remembered the wolves
and thought better of venturing into the wilderness on his own.

He reached over to the water bottle Major
left and noticed a scrap of paper underneath it. Placing the bottle to the
side, he unfolded the note.

Most of the bodies have nothing of value. Scavengers
cleaned them out. The trinkets lying in piles are worthless or don’t work,
neither of which will help you. I can’t tell, but I think it’s accelerating.
Not at an even pace like a clock, but more like the tides. It moves faster the
closer it gets. I’ve seen it before. I’m moving to higher ground. So should
you.

Samuel read the note again. It was not
addressed to him, and it was not signed. He had to assume Major left it and
decided another confrontation with the pack would not be in his best interest.
He shoved his personal items into a pocket, drained the last of the water, and
climbed the tree. When the morning glow crested over the horizon, he would
follow Major’s trail as far as he could and hope it would lead to higher
ground.

***

Samuel awoke. He had dozed on the branch,
but would not go so far as to call it sleep. He felt pain in his hips, and his
muscles ached from the slight tension needed to keep him balanced and in the
tree. A thin beam of light appeared on the same horizon after what felt like
more than a single night of darkness.

It’s accelerating.

Samuel thought about the phrase in
Major’s note, and that the night felt longer. He shook his head and turned one
ear toward the unending forest. Samuel had not heard them baying, nor seen so
much as a falling leaf since Major left. The silence of the forest again felt
suffocating, dead. He slid off the branch and climbed backward down the trunk
until his feet landed on the pine needles.

Samuel made the decision to find higher
ground before Major’s note, and he walked into the forest in the same
direction Major had, following the man’s first few footsteps. Samuel laughed
and remembered tracking a deer in his youth. He smelled the fresh blood and
felt the crisp snap of the frigid winter air of days gone by. He stopped,
frantic yet exhilarated. That memory had returned. If it did, others might as
well.

***

He spent the next few hours trudging
through the ancient forest, unsure as to whether he was making progress or
simply walking in a huge arc. Samuel had not come across his campsite again, so
he considered his time as progress. He approached a narrow creek running across
the path. The water moved over the low rocks and passed by without so much as a
gurgle. The entire stream was silent. Samuel reached into his back
pocket and removed the cap from the plastic water bottle Major left him. He
dipped the bottle into the water and filled it to the top. Samuel sniffed the
water, could not detect an odor, and poured a drop into his mouth. He swallowed
and waited. His stomach did not cramp, and he could not detect a bitter or
chemical taste. He threw the bottle back and drained it, refilling it three
more times.

Samuel continued past the creek until the
forest felt as though it tipped upward toward the sky. He knew he was moving to
higher ground, even though Major’s trail had disappeared. As he made the
ascent, the trees thinned and the air felt colder. Samuel kept moving to keep
warm, exhaling plumes of breath into the forest. He struggled to determine
whether it was day or night. He trudged forward on an ever-increasing slope
headed skyward. He leaned on the north side of a tree trunk, resting his legs
and lungs. Samuel rubbed his eyes, certain the cabin he just spotted in
the distance was a figment of his imagination.

Moss-covered shingles clung to the
pitched roof. A lonely brick chimney jutted out at an angle that threatened to
pull it over. Weathered wood shakes covered the front and side, their stain
long since dissolved. The lone window to the right of the door was glazed with
time, the dust giving it an opaque finish. Three steps led up to a door
with a single brass knob and no lock.

Chapter 4

Samuel came within five feet of the cabin
and stopped. He looked over his shoulder, expecting the occupant to arrive and
chastise him for trespassing.

“Major?” he called out.

No response.

“Major, are you in there?”

The surrounding forest swallowed the
sounds like a muffling blanket of snow. Samuel strained to hear noise coming
from inside the cabin. He was greeted with silence.

He took another step closer, scanning the
ground for any sign of activity. A long spider web hung diagonally across the
top right corner of the door, and other webs clouded the corners of the front
window.

Samuel walked to the right, circling
around the cabin. The wood shakes covered the other exterior walls, although
some had fallen to the ground in clumps of rotted wood. He bent down and sniffed
the crumbling shingle, expecting an earthy, organic scent. He caught the
slightest hint of mold and nothing more. Coming around the other side and back
to the front, he did not find a cistern, privy or any other evidence of
habitation.

He looked up at the gloomy ceiling above
and felt as though night was coming again. Though he struggled to find the
rhythm of the day, he could not determine whether the night was a few hours off
or perhaps minutes away. He saw the leader of the pack in his mind’s eye and decided
he was not ready to face the alpha male again. Major said he would be back. Had
it been one night or two since the attack? Samuel could not remember. Time was
stretched and thin like warm taffy.

The front door looked back at Samuel,
unmoving and uncaring. He placed a foot on the first step and heard the wood
crack under his weight, the first noise registered by his ears in a long while.
He felt a tingling in the bottom of his foot that climbed past his ankle, over
his knee, and bolted up to his shoulders. He pulled his foot back
instinctively, and the electric buzz faded. When Samuel put his foot back on
the step, it returned again like a low-voltage electric current. He looked down
and his eyes widened. A crisp, brilliant, blue outlined his foot and extended
to the outer edge of the step. The line glowed with an intensity that made
Samuel squint. It cut through the drab grey-scape of the forest and the dreary
sky. The wood beneath Samuel’s foot felt solid, smooth. He became aware of a
scent of fresh paint that reminded him of summers spent painting fences in the
neighborhood.

Samuel closed his eyes as the memory
rushed back.

He sat on the ground in plush, green grass. An
aluminum paint tray cradling a puddle of pure white paint sat next to
him, a wood-handled brush resting on the edge. He stared straight ahead at a
picket, one half bare, smooth and sanded while the top half sat
glistening with a fresh coat.

“Hurry, Sammy. It’s almost time for lunch. If you
finish by one, we can head to the pool for the rest of the afternoon.”

“I’m hungry. Whatyer makin’?”

“Grilled cheese and yogurt.”

“I’ll be in soon, Mom.”

Samuel opened his eyes, and the memory
dissipated like a balloon carried away on the wind. He looked down and the blue
outline flickered. He could see the rotted step fading through the painted one
of another time and place. The tingling feeling in his body disappeared until
he was left standing with one foot on the step and another on the ground.

The patch of illumination slipped lower
in the sky as the darkness pulled it down to force another night. He thought of
the wolves again and placed a hand on the doorknob, willing to risk entering
the unknown instead of facing the wolves again. He turned the knob and pushed,
but the door did not open. The howl of the wolves rose again, as if Samuel’s
touch triggered their bloodlust.

The shudder worked its way through
Samuel’s body until it triggered the Major’s words in his head.

They will return.

A cold sweat broke out on Samuel’s
forehead, and he felt a rumbling in his bowels. The howling ceased for the
moment, but he knew the next time it broke the unnatural silence, the pack
would be much closer. He tried again, his hand gripping the doorknob with white
knuckles. Samuel felt like the Arthur of old, trying with all his might to
remove Excalibur from the stone. The knob would not move, so he pushed with one
shoulder on the front of the door. The lazy spider webs dangled on his head,
but the door did not give. He stepped to the side and used the palm of his hand
to wipe the pane of the window. The next burst of howling made him shiver. The
pack was closer. Much closer.

Samuel backed away from the window,
spinning around and conducting a quick survey of the landscape surrounding the
cabin. If he used a rock to break the window, the wolves would follow unless
there was something inside the cabin he could use to bar it. He shoved his
hands into his pockets but found nothing to help gain him access.

The howl that came next froze Samuel. He
turned in the direction of the noise and swore he saw the yellow eyes bouncing
between the scant trees of the elevated forest. Samuel placed both hands on the
knob and shook as hard as he could. He leaned back, pulling with his body
weight. The paws of the wolves rustled the leaves on the forest floor. Samuel
looked over his shoulder without releasing his grip. The alpha male was back,
and the light in his eyes spoke to Samuel without the need for words.

“Goddammit, open up,” Samuel screamed at
the door.

The alpha male growled low, fifty yards
from the cabin. The wolf downshifted from a full sprint to a light gallop, ears
up and fangs bared. The rest of the pack came into the tight clearing in front
of the cabin, the other hunters behind the alpha male. The females and cubs remained
safely at the edge of the tree line.

Samuel smelled the wet fur, the odor more
pungent than any others since he fell from the noose. He felt the low, moaning
growl emanating from the hungry beasts. They spread out until the cabin was
surrounded. He turned and placed his back on the front of the door. Samuel
pushed his heels into the wooden step and drew a deep breath.

“I’m not giving in,” he said to the alpha
male. “I’m not dying without a fight.”

The alpha male’s ears twitched. He
strutted closer to Samuel. The others took tentative steps closer, careful not
to infringe on the territory of their leader. The wolf snarled with saliva
dangling from his fangs. Samuel bent his knees and leaned forward until his
rear pressed on the front of the door. He held up his fists in front of his
face as if getting ready for a schoolyard brawl. The alpha male ducked his head
and lunged forward. He took two bounds and opened his jaw in midair as Samuel
closed his eyes and braced for the impact. At the moment he expected to have
teeth tearing at his throat, Samuel fell backward into utter and complete
darkness.

***

Speckles of dust hung in the air, dancing
on thin strings of light that penetrated the cabin through gaps in the shakes.
Samuel blinked twice, feeling his eyes burn from lack of moisture. He lifted
his head and turned to face the door while his body remained on the floor, the
bare planks digging into his shoulder blades. Cobwebs dangled from the corners
of the ceiling and stretched from underneath the cracked plaster. A narrow
strip of light framed the door, leading Samuel to believe it was day, or the
closest thing to daylight in this world.

An image of the alpha male snapped into
place. Samuel closed his eyes and saw the feral, yellow eyes coming at him. He
looked into the beast’s empty recesses, not believing such a creature could
ever possess a soul. He remembered the teeth, bared and hungry, ready to tear
at his flesh. Samuel even recalled the alpha male’s scent, which overpowered
any lingering odor present.

Samuel shook his head and dispelled the
memory. He sat up, stood and surveyed the cabin. A rickety table stood in one
corner, the old-fashioned type meant for writing with a quill and inkwell. The
wood appeared grey in the darkened room. A wooden chair with a three-rung back
sat tucked beneath the tabletop. A rudimentary bunk hung two feet off the
floor, the long side screwed into the wall with rusty hex bolts. A thin, lumpy
pad covered the top of the bunk, which was crisscrossed with webs, but no
pillow or blanket. The only other item in the room hung from a single nail
protruding from the crown molding opposite the door. The frame sat askew in the
middle of the wall.