Werewolf Suspense (Book 2): Outage 2 (The Awakening) (3 page)

He searched for Lorena, who was already at the passenger's door, opening it and jumping inside. His head snapped to the garage. The creature was in the bay, hurtling toward them. Tom reversed. He gunned the accelerator, flinging his arm over the seat, narrowly avoiding the front wall of the garage and the generator, his only intention to get
out
and away from the madness.
 

Lorena screamed. Her shriek sounded far away, as if she were across a canyon rather than sitting in the seat next to him.
 

Something crashed into the hood of the vehicle, but Tom kept going, steering backward until he reached the road. He heard a thud as something fell off the vehicle. He switched into drive and hit the gas. In the rearview, several more creatures emerged from the houses, carrying bodies covered in gore. The neighborhood Tom had known was gone, replaced by a sickening mixture of red and white.
 

Tom gritted his teeth. He kept driving.

He didn't stop, not even when he hit the main road.

Holy shit, holy shit…

Tom struggled to control his breathing. He and Lorena drove through the snow-ridden streets, searching for signs of life. The houses around them were dark, the driveways empty. It looked like most of the occupants had left before the storm got bad.

"What's going on?" Lorena whimpered.

"I don't know, honey. I don't know."

Tom barely felt coherent. His mind spat images of what he'd seen. Without the creatures in front of him, he questioned his vision and his sanity. Was he living some nightmare, some twisted hallucination? For a few moments, he entertained the possibility that he was still in bed, that he'd imagined the bloody scene.

Was he having a night terror? God knows he'd had plenty of them after Jeremy died. But Lorena was here next to him, and she'd seen it, too.

If it was a nightmare, they were in it together.

He patted his pocket, searching for his cell phone. It was still there.
Thank God he'd grabbed it
.
He pulled it out and swiped the screen, waiting for the phone to spring to life. He kept one eye on the road as he dialed. He hit speakerphone. The phone was silent. He dialed again, thinking he must've done something wrong, that he'd punched the numbers incorrectly.
 

But he hadn't.
 

There was no service.

The storm had probably interrupted it. Tom's cell phone reception was shoddy, even on a good day.

"Shit," he whispered.

The tires skidded over the slippery snow. The steering wheel jerked in his hands. Tom tossed the cell phone to Lorena. "Keep trying the police." Even as he said the words, he wasn't sure what the police would do.
 

"Okay," she said vacantly.

Tom looked over at her. Lorena's whole body was shaking, as if the gravity of what they'd seen was threatening to pull her under.

"It'll be all right, Lorena. We'll make it through this," he said, though he was far from sure. He'd spoken the words so many times over the years that they felt empty, meaningless. It was one thing losing a son to an accident.
 

It was another explaining
this
.

"Did you see the Smiths? Did you see what happened to Desmond and Tori?" Lorena whimpered.

"I saw them, honey. Try to calm down."

"What if they're still alive? What if we could've helped them?"

"They're dead, Lorena." Tom shook his head. "I'm sure of it. Even if they were alive, we wouldn't be able to do anything. I shot that thing in the kitchen, and it didn't stop. Did you see it? Whatever the hell these things are, we won't be able to stop them. I'm not even sure the police will."

He clenched the steering wheel, trying to quell the pit in his stomach. In spite of the irrational,
unbelievable
things they'd seen, they'd made it out alive. Somehow, they'd survived.

"Any luck with the phone?" he asked.

"Nothing," Lorena said.

"Keep trying. We're bound to have better service when we hit the main road."

He wasn't sure what calling someone would do. But they had to try, at least. He glanced over to find Lorena's teeth chattering. She was still in her pajamas. In the urgency of the moment, she hadn't had time to get dressed. Tom at least had his work clothes and boots.

"I think there's a winter jacket in the backseat," he said. "Why don't you grab it?"

Tom eyed the street in front of him. At the moment, it looked more like arctic tundra than a residential back road. He was driving on a wooded, houseless street, but eventually he'd end up on Arcadia Road, which led to a main thoroughfare.

From there, it was a fifteen-minute drive to town. In good weather, at least.

Lorena returned from the backseat. She'd located two jackets, a hat, and some boots. She handed a coat to Tom, and he unbuckled his seatbelt and wriggled into one of the jackets. When he had it on, Lorena slipped a knit hat over his head. She tried to smile, but the expression fell flat.

The SUV swayed back and forth over the road. The precipitation was deepening, and Tom had the frightening premonition that they'd be stuck and stranded. Tom scanned the white, snow-covered trees around them. Several branches lay in the road, creating obstacles for the SUV. He weaved around them with rigid, clenched hands.
 

The closest neighborhood was miles away. He pondered the empty houses he'd passed. He wondered if anyone else was home.

He hadn't seen a storm like this in several years, and certainly not in October. It didn't look like the plows were out. That explained the depth of the snow in the roads.
 

Those that had gotten out were lucky they had.

Tom shivered. Although the heat was blasting, it did little to restore the warmth to his body. They drove in silence for several minutes, Lorena checking the cell phone, murmuring in distress. Tom tried to focus on the things he could control: driving to get help, telling the authorities what they'd seen. What would he say?

He recalled Desmond's torn, mangled body. The image felt like a scene from a television show, rather than something he'd witnessed. The creatures were fit more for nightmares than reality. Would anyone
believe
him?

He pictured the beast's eyes as it had watched them through the windowpane—sizing them up, ready to burst through glass and wood if it needed to. If they'd gone to the basement, Tom had no doubt they would've been ripped apart like the others.

Desmond and Tori were dead. So were Nick and Sarah. So was everyone they'd lived alongside for the past twenty years.
They're all dead…

Tom was so immersed in his thoughts that he almost didn't see the shadows among the trees. When he did, he stiffened.

"Oh, my God, Tom, look over there…" Lorena whispered.
 

The fear he'd felt at his house burrowed back inside him, clawing at his nerves. He stared out the driver's side window. The road was bordered with pine trees. White, skeletal branches protruded from the trunks, as if the limbs were trying to escape the weight of the snow.

Running among the trees were several of the beasts.

Tom kept driving, watching the creatures glide across the landscape. Every so often, one of them gazed at the road, red eyes glinting in the darkness.
 

"Holy shit," he said. "They're following us."

Tom hit the gas, balancing caution with the need to escape.
If we get stuck, if the vehicle dies…

Lorena pounded frantically at the phone. The beasts increased speed, barreling closer to the road, loping on four limbs. The engine growled; the tires churned through the snow. Tom was so preoccupied with the beasts that he neglected to pay attention to what was in front of him. He swerved to the right just in time to avoid a tree branch. The road was littered with debris. The SUV tires were sturdy, but not sturdy enough to avoid a flat.

"How close are they?" he shouted.

"They're getting close, Tom! Go faster!"

Tom navigated around another branch. Sweat trickled from his forehead. In his peripheral vision, he saw several of the beasts falling over one another, as if engaged in a competition rather than hunting as a pack.
 
He imagined them vying for the first taste of blood, anticipating the kill to come. Their growls spit from the forest.
 

Tom careened around several more branches in the road. Although he saw most of the obstacles in the headlights, he was worried about those he couldn't see, those that might be buried. As if to prove his point, a loud rattle tore at the undercarriage.
 

He grimaced and kept going.
 

After clearing the fallen limbs, Tom accelerated and risked a glance out the driver's side window. The beasts were falling behind. He drove for several more minutes, increasing speed as he encountered a straightaway. Soon, he'd surpassed them. Their shadows lingered in the trees and then disappeared.

He and Lorena were safe for the moment, however long the moment lasted.

He blew a nervous breath. "Check the phone again, Lorena." He tried to remain positive, but his hope waned. The snow fell harder. Even with the defroster on, the pellets clung to the windshield, gumming up his windshield wipers.

"Nothing," Lorena said.

Tom took several more turns, falling into a rhythm, focusing on the drive. The snow was deepening, and he needed to keep momentum. He traded glances between the road and the white-tipped foliage on either side of the road. For a moment, Tom was convinced they'd warped into some alternate reality, one where civilization had disappeared. He could no longer imagine anyone living here. It was as if the snow had buried the neighborhoods that once existed.

After he'd driven for several minutes, slanted rooftops pierced the skyline, patches of black fighting their way through the snow's coating. Tom stared at the buildings as if they might disappear. It took him a few seconds to recognize where he was. He was approaching Jameson Street, a street he passed every day on the way to work. Everything looked so different now.

Lorena broke his concentration. "Tom! Look out!"

Tom snapped to attention. His foot flew to the brake. Up ahead, a girl was trudging into the headlight's glow, her face pale and bruised, her clothing disheveled. He slid to a halt, pumping the brakes, coming to a stop within ten feet of her. The headlights illuminated her battered body.

"Stay here!" Tom ordered.
 

He grabbed his rifle and threw the vehicle into park. When he opened the door, the cold hit him at once, enveloping his body. He jumped out, leaving the door open, and ran toward the girl. The snow grabbed his ankles, trying to trip him up. The girl was trembling, injured. He was almost at her side when she collapsed. He knelt down next to her, noticing her leg was bleeding.
 

"Are you all right, ma'am?"

Tom helped the girl to her feet and started ushering her back to the vehicle. She didn't answer.

"Are you okay?" he asked again.

This time, some words tumbled from her mouth.

"I-I think so."

The girl was wearing sweatpants and a winter coat, but judging by her ragged breathing, she'd been out in the cold for some time. They swayed in the gust of the wind, fighting the elements, two insignificant figures against a sea of white. It was then that Tom noticed the gun in her hand. He told her to put it away. Thankfully, she complied. He asked about her leg as they narrowed the gap to the car, making their way to the rear door.

A few minutes later, the girl would tell him her name was Abby.
 

Half an hour later, she'd become one of
them
.

Tom swallowed at the memories. Both Abby and Lorena were gone. All that was left now were he and the creatures in the forest. He concentrated on the road, gripping the steering wheel of the SUV. Snow cascaded in front of him, obscuring his view.

He'd lost the beasts, but he wasn't out of danger yet.

According to the speedometer, he was going forty miles an hour—a moderate speed for dry conditions, but a dangerous one in the snow. He'd experienced enough New England winters to realize that hitting a single patch of slippery ice or snow could cause a crash. If he crashed, that'd be the end of him. Just like it had been the end for Jeremy.

If he didn't die from the collision, he'd be torn apart by the creatures.

Tom reviewed what he knew. What he
thought
he knew.

The beasts were human. Or at least, they had been at one time. He'd seen Abby transform—her body contorting into something fit for nightmares. He'd also heard one of the creatures speak. Rob, Abby's husband, had confessed to his killings before he'd ripped her apart.

He'd been proud of what he'd done.
 

Somehow the beasts had known the storm was coming. Somehow they'd sensed what was going to happen. It was as if nature had served up the perfect recipe to suit their needs, and they'd been ready to take advantage.

But none of those facts helped him now. With his empty rifle, Tom was nearly defenseless against the things.

He surveyed the landscape. The sky emptied snow.

He patted the compartment between the seats, searching for his cell phone. He was unable to contact the police before, but maybe he'd have better luck now. He located his phone and swiped the screen. The device remained dark. He tried again with no luck.
Shit.

The battery was dead. It hadn't gotten a full charge. The power had been out for most of the night.
Remember?

He tossed the phone on the seat, fighting a wave of hopelessness.

Stay focused, Tom
.

He fought the feeling that he was alone.

Tom found it hard to imagine he was the only one left out here, but given what he'd seen, he wouldn't be surprised. It was as if some higher power had passed judgment on the world, sending its minions to rend humanity apart, one limb at a time. Tom had always lived his life in a fair manner. But the world had become a cruel, violent place.