Werewolf Suspense (Book 4): Outage 4 (The Reckoning)

by T. W. Piperbrook

  That knowledge sparked another burst of adrenaline. Claws ripped at his gown, shredding the fabric, and Tom felt the hot breath of the creature on his neck.

  With a shudder, he wondered if he'd ever get to the next room, after all.

  Chapter Seven

  Abraham swallowed a string of emotions as he returned to the hospital room. With the nurses' help, he'd searched the whole floor, but hadn't found Silas. His initial guess had been correct.

  Silas was somewhere downstairs.

  Abraham couldn't help blaming himself. It was his fault Silas was missing. If Abraham hadn't stepped out into the hall with Tom, he might've stopped Silas from slipping off. He might've noticed the boy getting on the elevator. Or going down the stairs.

  If something happened to either Tom or Silas, he'd never forgive himself.

  Pushing those feelings aside, Abraham collected his nerves and shut the hospital room door behind him. Sally and Katherine were waiting for him. In their hands were scalpels and scissors the nurses had given them. The nurses had scoured the floor for weapons, passing them out to the frightened survivors. Everyone knew what was happening.

  No one thought it was a drill anymore.

  Abraham clutched a screwdriver in his sweaty fist, steeling himself to use it.

  "Abraham!" Sally said, hurrying over to greet him. "No sign of Silas?"

  Abraham shook his head resignedly. "I searched the whole floor again. He must be downstairs."

  Katherine's face sank. Sally returned to the girl and hugged her tightly. "We'll find him," she whispered to Katherine. "I'm sure Tom will bring him back."

  "I hope so," Katherine said.

  "What do we do in the meantime?" Sally asked Abraham.

  "They're telling us to stay locked in our rooms. No one is to come out until we're told."

  Sally walked back over to Abraham. Looking over her shoulder to ensure Katherine wasn't listening, she said, "Something else worries me."

  "What is it?" Abraham frowned, studying his wife.

  "Tom's injury. The one he received last night." Sally studied Abraham. "Are we sure it wasn't from a bite?"

  The wind left Abraham's stomach. "He said his leg was cut on glass. But we never got a look at it. He seemed pretty guarded about it…" He shook his head as uncertainty set in. "God help us if that's the case. Especially now that he's off in search of Silas."

  Abraham didn't need to say anything further. The worry in Sally's eyes mirrored his own. He stared over at Katherine, who was on the bed watching them.

  "It's all right, Katherine. Everything's going to be fine." Abraham looked around the room. "I'm going to see if I can block the door somehow. Keep us safe."

  The murmur of panicked conversation wafted through the walls as Abraham wedged a chair underneath the door, wishing he had something better to defend them with. He needed to protect Katherine and Sally. He'd already lost track of Silas.

  He returned to the bed and joined them. They remained in frightened silence, listening to muffled conversations and the sound of nurses' footsteps in the hallway.

  With little else to do but wait, Abraham's thoughts wandered to his family overseas—his daughter, son-in-law, and grandson. A few nights ago, Sally had found some of his daughter's old toys and baby clothes. Abraham had planned to show them to Olivia when she visited from London. He wondered if he'd ever get the chance.

  He couldn't fathom surviving another night. Not like the last one.

  Sally broke his pensive mood.

  "Did you hear that?" she asked.

  Sally pointed at the window. Abraham, Sally, and Katherine stood and walked over to the glass to see what she'd heard. When they reached the windowpane, they leaned over the heater and cupped their hands over their eyes. Through the window, Abraham saw snow cascading over the parking lot.

  He saw something else, too.

  Pulled up to the front of the building were a police cruiser and a school bus. It looked like they'd just arrived. The police officer was on the radio, one hand folded over the steering wheel. The school bus driver had turned the lights on, illuminating the adult passengers. The bus was full of people—faces pressed to windows, fingers pointing at the building.

  Abraham felt a surge of hope.

  "A police officer," he said excitedly. "And survivors."

  That hope was followed by a surge of dread. They must not know about the beasts. A few passengers were collecting their things, preparing to disembark. Abraham's eyes shot to the front of the building, looking for police officers' bodies.

  The bodies were gone.

  The creatures must've dragged them off.

  Abraham scoured the snow for tracks, but between the poor lighting and the snow, he couldn't find them. The storm had covered up the evidence, hiding signs of danger. He needed to warn the people outside.

  "They don't know what's going on…" Sally said shakily beside him. "Do you see their faces? They're ready to get out. They don't know…"

  "We need to warn them!"

  Sally pounded on the glass.

  Abraham reached for the latch on the window. Unlocking it, he realized it only opened a few inches. Dammit. A hospital precaution. But at the moment, it would do more harm than good. He shouted through the opening, frantically trying to get the peoples' attention.

  "Hey!" he shouted. "Stay in the bus! Stay in the cruiser!"

  Sally joined in with the yelling. Katherine peered out the window. "I don't see my parents…where are they?"

  Sally put out a protective arm. "Stay back, honey. It'll be all right."

  "Up here!" Abraham screamed, louder.

  The people studied the building. None looked up. Abraham felt powerless and invisible, as if no sound were coming out of his mouth. But he knew that wasn't true. He could hear Sally's voice as clearly as his own, her high-pitched yelling just as panicked as his. The swell of the wind and the noise of the bus engine drowned them out.

  The officer glanced in all directions, then rolled down the window. He motioned to the bus driver, and the bus driver poked his head out and waved back, mouthing words Abraham couldn't hear.

  "Call for help!" Abraham yelled.

  Both the officer and the bus driver ducked back inside, closing their respective windows. Maybe they were leaving. Abraham hung his thoughts on that hope as he grabbed his wife's arm. That hope was deflated when the officer opened the cruiser door and got out of the cruiser.

  "No!" Abraham screamed at the top of his lungs.

  The officer disembarked, tilting his hat. He'd only taken a single step when a dark figure whipped from the shadows and tackled him to the ground.

  Chapter Eight

  Tom ripped free of the creature's claws, darting into the eating area. His breathing came in panicked gasps. He contemplated spinning and using his axe, but the creature would be on him before he could swing. He needed more room. More distance. He tore over the large threshold between rooms, fighting for traction over spilled foods and curdled drinks. The cafeteria stank of sour milk, blood, and the remains of people who hadn't lasted as long as he had.

  Proof of that was all over the room.

  Bodies were slumped over tables, heads bowed in piles of uneaten food. One man had a gaping hole in his back, his arms torn off. It looked like the diners had been taken by surprise, pounced on before they had a chance to defend themselves.

  Tom ran faster, weaving between tables and chairs. He cried as he stepped over a fallen body, the victim facedown and half-eaten. He threw a chair behind him—anything to slow the beast down.

  He was halfway across the room when he realized his new plight.

  There were no other exits from the eating area. Aside from a row of windows along the wall and a set of bathroom doors, there was no way out. The creature was so close he could smell its musk. Tom skirted behind a circular table, putting it between him and the beast, and then spun and hoisted his axe.

  The beast barreled into the table without stopping, sending it
sliding into Tom. Tom threw his hands up to stop it, crying out as his fingers bent back improperly. He stepped around the table, trying to run around it and the beast.

  But the creature wouldn't allow it.

  The beast mimicked his movements. It shook its mane in a display of authority, arching its back and raising its claws. Tom gripped the axe and took a step back. He raised it until his arms could reach no higher, prepared for a sideways, two-handed swing. His action was both a warning and a declaration of intent. He wasn't going to give up until either he or the creature was dead.

  "Run, Silas! Wherever you are, run as fast as you can!" he shouted.

  He prayed the boy could hear him; that he was far from the unfolding scene. The beast reared its head, piercing him with glowing eyes.

  And then it swiped the table again.

  The table flew back again, bashing into Tom and sending him careening to the floor. All at once, the table was upside down and on top of him. The tabletop threatened to crush his ribs, robbing him of air. He fought to wriggle from underneath it, but the creature leapt on top, clawing at him from around the tabletop. Remarkably, Tom still held the axe. He refused to let it go. It was his lifeline, his last hope at survival.

  Using his feet and his elbows, Tom pushed as hard as he was able, managing to slide from underneath the table and through a puddle of blood and food. The table crashed against the floor. Tom wormed his way backwards and underneath another table—an upright one—and squirmed around the center pole, his elbows grinding the floor.

  The creature leapt after him. It clawed the remnants off the second tabletop, sending Styrofoam trays and milk cartons and soda cans raining down around him. Tom continued crawling backward on boots and elbows, skidding through remnants of food and people and out from under it. The creature loped after him. He cried out as he cleared the second table and hit the wall. He couldn't go any farther.

  The creature hovered over him, dripping saliva. Tom propped himself up on one elbow, raised the axe, and swung. The creature batted at him.

  Axe cleaved flesh. Blood spurted into the air. Tom spat out a mouthful of rancid fluid. He wiped his face clean to see what he'd hit. The creature brayed and leapt back, writhing. Its left hand was gone. Not cut, but missing.

  The beast roared, waving its truncated limb. The confusion of its injury had put the thing into a frenzy. It brayed and knocked over tables and food as it staggered around, trying to make sense of what had happened.

  Seizing the opportunity, Tom leapt to his feet. He chased the wounded beast, rearing the bloodied axe. He swung again. This time, he put the full weight of his body into the blow. The beast held up its stump to protect itself, but it misjudged its defensive ability and its missing appendage. The blade cleaved its neck. The beast dropped to its knees, pawing at the wound. Tom reared back and swung again, then again, hacking at the creature's head until it gave way to gravity and tumbled.

  The beast's headless body spewed blood and went still.

  Tom vomited.

  The cafeteria was quiet, save Tom's ragged breathing. He stared at the creature for several seconds, not quite believing that it was dead.

  Chapter Nine

  Abraham watched out the window as another creature descended on the police officer, joining the first to feast on the man's kicking body. The officer struggled and screamed, his weapon lost in the nearby snow. He attempted to roll, but the beasts had him pinned. Soon, all his efforts stopped. What was once a moving, breathing person was now a mound of pulpy flesh.

  The occupants of the school bus burst into screams and panic, hands slapping windows, faces agape. Without hesitation, the driver reversed, peeling away in a burst of snow and screeching tires.

  The beasts loped after it, cutting through the snow.

  Abraham stared out the window in horror. He heard someone screaming in the room with him. It took him a second to realize it was Sally. They embraced each other as they watched the bus tear off across the parking lot. Katherine stood several feet behind them, sobbing. The bus rolled out of sight.

  Sally stopped screaming. Despite her silence, Abraham heard the yells of other survivors in the adjacent rooms, picking up where she left off. He pictured other faces pressed against hospital windows, watching the scene outside in terror.

  Abraham tried to figure out their next move. The grisly death of the police officer was a reminder that they were next. The walls and doors of the hospital were only temporary barriers.

  "Did the others get away…?" Katherine asked, her voice cracking.

  "Yes, they did, honey," Abraham reassured her.

  The words did little to restore the girl's confidence. The beasts would either catch up to the school bus or they wouldn't, but that wouldn't stop them from returning to the hospital.

  "I wish Silas were here," Katherine whispered, her gaze wandering to the door. "And Tom."

  "I'm sure they'll be back soon," Abraham said. He held onto Katherine, thinking of his own grandchildren, and of other people who might be out in the cold, stripped of their relatives and places of warmth.

  It could be worse, he tried telling himself.

  Still, he wasn't sure how.

  How long did they have before the beasts came to get them?

  A particularly loud scream ripped Abraham from thought. The yelling he'd heard before spilled out into the hallway. Maybe he'd been mistaken. Maybe the people hadn't been reacting to what they'd seen outside, but something within.

  Snarls confirmed his worst fears. Abraham didn't need to see through the door to know the creatures were in the hallway.

  The third floor had been overrun.

  PART TWO: THE ONSLAUGHT

  Chapter Ten

  Tom tore his attention away from the headless creature he'd killed in the cafeteria.

  Silas.

  The little boy's name hit Tom like a blow to the stomach. He veered across the room, the creature's blood dripping off him like evidence. Having killed one creature, he vowed to kill as many as he had to until he reached the boy. He clutched the axe.

  They might be able to heal, but not if you cut off their limbs…

  At least he knew he it was possible to kill them without silver.

  Tom fled the eating area and entered the main room with the salad bar. Dim lights crackled above him. Soon, he was peering into the corridor, searching for Silas. He looked left and right, vowing not to let one of the beasts surprise him.

  Satisfied the hallway was empty, he crept into it, backtracking to the door into which Silas had ducked. The door was open.

  "Silas?"

  A cold fear took root in Tom's stomach as he saw the gaping threshold. Where had the boy gone? He swallowed as he peered through the opening, searching for evidence of Silas's occupancy. The room was dark and cold, laced with the sterile odor of hospital cleaning supplies. It was a janitor's closet. Brooms and mops hung against the wall. Several empty buckets were stacked in the corner.

  Tom's pulse thudded frantically behind his ears.

  He called Silas's name again, hoping the boy was in hiding. The lack of an answer sent Tom's thoughts spinning in numerous directions, none of them good. If another creature had been down here…

  But he hadn't heard screams. He let that thought comfort him as he surveyed the janitor's closet.

  Spotting nothing else he could use—at least, nothing better than an axe—Tom reentered the hallway. He scoured the doors, looking for an open doorway. The floor was a sticky mess of footprints, but it was impossible to discern whose. The hallway reeked of blood, musk, and remains, adding to the stench on his clothing and hands.

  He called out again. "Silas?"

  No answer.

  And then he heard something. A moan.

  The noise made him bristle. Tom increased his pace, heading toward it, his stomach tangled in knots. He followed the trail of sound until it culminated in a large room. Ducking inside, he smelled fabric softener and laundry detergent, and saw several commerci
al machines lining the wall. Large, gray bins spanned the length of the floor. A dim light flickered from somewhere in the back, providing just enough detail to see his surroundings.

  The source of the noise was here. It was human.

  Tom called out again, cringing at the sound of his voice. He needed to find whoever was here, wherever they were. The person let out a winded gurgle. It took him another second to determine where the noise originated.

  It was coming from the laundry bins.

  Gripping his axe tight, Tom poked his head into each of the industrial laundry bins until he found what he was looking for. A heavyset woman was sprawled on top of a pile of clothing, her blood soaking the towels and sheets. Her neck was cranked at an irregular angle; her arms hung limp at her sides. Her stomach had been sliced open. It appeared she'd managed to topple into the bin before bleeding out, perhaps seeking a last place of refuge.

  "I'll get you out of here," he promised her.

  The woman's blonde hair was plastered over her face. Her sallow, listless eyes rolled to meet his. She gave him a small, but encouraging, nod.

  "There are nurses upstairs," he reassured her. "They can help you."

  He convinced himself she had a chance.

  If he could get her help. If he could find Silas…

  Staring at the woman's blood-drenched wound, Tom grabbed one of the towels and tamped it. He was hardly trained in medical procedures, but he had to do something.

  "Can you hold this to your stomach?" he asked her.

  He guided her hands over the wound. To his surprise, the woman was able to press down. Tom tested the weight of the bin, realizing he could roll it. Still holding his axe, he maneuvered around the other bins and toward the door.

  He listened for beasts.

  The elevator was a few corridors away. If he could get her inside it, he'd leave her and find Silas. He'd bring them both to the third floor. He'd get them to safety. Just a moment ago, he'd been certain the floor was empty. The woman must've been overlooked by the police officers that'd searched the floor earlier.