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

by T. W. Piperbrook

"The door is thicker, but it won't hold much longer than this one," Kelsey said gravely, gesturing at the bed blocking the door.

  "I have an idea," Abraham said, biting his lip. "What about the roof?"

  "That might be an option, if we can get up the staircase without trouble." Kelsey pursed her lips, patting the keys in her pocket. "But even if we make it, it's bound to be freezing up there. The exposure won't do us good."

  "We'd be subjecting ourselves to frostbite and hypothermia," Tabatha reaffirmed. "There's a chance the beasts won't smell us when we're high off the ground, but they'd track us through the stairwell, from what we've seen."

  Tom walked the length of the room until he reached the window. The moon had settled behind the clouds, enveloping the landscape with its eerie glow. The police cruiser sat idly, splashing its headlights over the land. The windows had been smashed; the hood was bent. One of the tires was flattened. Even if they could get to it, they'd have little chance at getting away. He looked for the bodies of the police officers.

  They were gone—dragged off and eaten, according to Abraham.

  Tom swallowed. He recalled how he'd made the sprint to the station wagon the night before from the machine shop. That seemed like ages ago. His mission of revenge had been eclipsed by his need to protect the people in this room.

  From what he knew, they were the only ones left.

  He grabbed a blanket from the floor and handed it to Katherine and Silas.

  "Wrap this around you," he told them.

  They took it with gratitude, draping it over their shoulders. The storm's breeze kicked up the snow, drifting and melting it on the radiator with a quiet hiss. They needed to get out of here, but first, they needed a plan. The hallway was quiet for the moment. But the creatures would be coming soon.

  Tom sighed. "There must be another way we can defend ourselves. Something we can use."

  Abraham shrugged. "Right before everyone came in, I was looking at the sharps container on the wall. That gave me an idea. Couldn't we inject these things? Drug them, somehow?" He turned to Kelsey and Tabatha.

  Kelsey shook her head. "With a needle, we'd need to be close. I don't think that'd work without getting us killed."

  Tabatha added, "Even if we could inject them, the effects wouldn't be instantaneous."

  "Are there any supply rooms up here?" Tom asked.

  "Yes, we have a supply room on each floor, and a larger one on the ground floor." Kelsey furrowed her brow. "But most of the supplies are things we can't use."

  "What about gases?" Tom asked, grasping for any solution. "Laughing gas, maybe?"

  "We do have nitrous oxide containers. If you were to let the container run in a confined area, let's say a room, you could possibly sedate anyone inside. But I doubt that would work, either." Kelsey thought on it further. "Even if we filled such a room, we'd have to lead the creatures into it. Which would mean whoever went inside would pass out with them. And the chances of shutting the creatures inside and keeping them in there are pretty small."

  Tom blew a breath. He pictured luring the beasts into the room, watching them topple. After that, he'd finish them off with his axe. The image was satisfying, but he couldn't imagine putting it into practice. "There has to be something else we can use," he said, frustrated.

  "All we have in there are a lot of supplies: bedpans, masks, syringes, and shelves of linens."

  They fell quiet for a moment, glancing out the window or listening for noises from the hallway. Tom recalled a time when he had thought the snow was beautiful, a peaceful part of nature. That was before Jeremy had died in the accident. Before Lorena had been killed. He couldn't imagine looking at it the same way anymore.

  He had to get the group out of this. He had to. He wracked his brain for answers.

  Before he could conjure an idea, Katherine turned her head.

  "There's someone outside!"

  The group snapped to attention.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tom hovered next to the others, staring out into the parking lot. A man was trudging across the snow in a hooded winter coat. He was carrying a pistol, shielding his face with a hood. The wind and snow pummeled his body, threatening to pitch him over.

  Tom furrowed his brow. "Who is it? Someone from the bus?"

  "It looks like it," Abraham confirmed.

  "Maybe he escaped and found his way back," Tom said.

  "Could be."

  Immediately after saying the words, Katherine's and Silas' faces perked up. Tom wondered if they thought it was their father.

  "As soon as he gets inside, he'll be killed," Sally worried. "We need to warn him."

  "I'm sure he knows already," Tom said, pointing at the man's gun.

  They watched the man travel the parking lot, approaching the police cruiser. The man studied the vehicle. The car sat idly at the front of the building, the headlights covered in a layer of white, the windows smashed. Its dim beams poked through the parking lot. The flat tire was a giveaway that it wasn't drivable.

  "We should call out to him," Abraham said, echoing his wife's suggestion.

  "Wait a minute," Tom said, holding up his finger. "Let's see what he does first. I don't want to put him in danger."

  They watched quietly as the man came up alongside the vehicle, ducking inside. He fiddled with something in the interior. For a moment, Tom was certain the man would drive away, heedless of the flat tire. He was about to call out to him when the man exited the vehicle.

  In the man's hands was the policeman's rifle.

  The man dashed toward the canopy at the hospital entrance. Before disappearing, he looked up at the window briefly, but Tom couldn't make out his features.

  "Whoever it is will never make it up here!" Sally said, her lips quivering.

  "Do you think he's really coming for us?" Abraham asked.

  "I'm not sure." Tom felt a pang of responsibility. Not only had he neglected to warn the man, but he'd allowed him to come inside.

  "He must know what's in here," Abraham reasoned. "He grabbed another gun from the police car. It looked like he saw us. Maybe he's coming to help us."

  "Maybe it's the bus driver," Sally suggested. "He probably heard us yelling, after all."

  The group looked over at the barricaded door, as if to confirm her theory.

  "You might be right," Tom said. As much as he'd appreciate the help, he'd seen the lower floors, and he couldn't fathom someone getting through them.

  A gunshot echoed from somewhere in the lower floors, reinforcing his concern.

  "Did you hear that?" Abraham asked.

  Tom turned to face the barricaded door. The others stared at it with pale faces. Some part of him wanted to rush downstairs, to help the man, but that would be as suicidal as chasing the people in the elevator. Katherine and Silas bit their nails.

  A feeling of helplessness washed over Tom, more potent than anything he'd felt all night.

  The man has two guns, he told himself. That's more than we have up here. Maybe he has a better chance at survival than we do.

  Another gunshot echoed from a lower floor, followed by an inhuman cry. Whether the man had wounded or killed one of the beasts, Tom wasn't sure, but the noise gave him a small sense of satisfaction. Maybe the man would take them all out. Maybe he'd make it. Maybe he'd reach the third floor and help them.

  Tom said a silent prayer, envisioning the man's location downstairs. Had he made it past the lobby? Was he nearing the elevator?

  Another gunshot preceded a bestial moan.

  The lack of visibility was disconcerting. All Tom could do was root the man on from the hospital room, praying he'd make it. Another few reports of the guns later, Tom turned to the others.

  "I should go out there. Signal him, somehow."

  The others surveyed him with wary eyes, unwilling to agree to his suggestion.

  "I mean it," he repeated. "There's a chance he hasn't seen us. Maybe he did, but who can say for sure? This could be our only chance at help
." Tom held up his axe, insinuating he was ready to leave.

  "I don't think it's a good idea," Abraham tried. "What if he shoots you by accident?"

  "I can try to get his attention, somehow," Tom argued. "We'll do a lot better fighting these things together than apart."

  The group fell silent, but the worry was evident in their eyes.

  "If anything goes wrong…" Kelsey started.

  She didn't need to finish the sentence.

  "I'll be fine," Tom assured her, though he had little confidence. He had to try something.

  Having made the decision, he edged toward the door. Katherine and Silas stayed by the window as the others removed the barricade. Tom sucked in a breath and opened the door. Soon he was crossing the threshold. He gave one last glance over his shoulder, meeting Kelsey's eyes. He winced as the door clicked shut behind him.

  The hallway was eerily calm. The dull beeps of machinery drifted from rooms, a reminder of the people who'd once occupied the wing. The linoleum was a slippery mess of blood and remains. Most of the lights had gone dark, smashed by the beasts. Doors hung on hinges, broken by various struggles. He navigated the hallway, reached the end, and turned the corner. The beast he'd beheaded still lay by the elevator.

  The fact that they still had power was a miracle. Tom clutched the axe as if a single swing of the weapon might protect him.

  He recalled coming to consciousness several hours ago, confused and wondering where he was. If only that had been the start of a dream, he thought.

  He was far past the point of believing that.

  Tom eyed the path to the elevator, measuring his steps as he walked. He wasn't sure what he was going to do yet. He'd figure out where the man was, and then proceed from there. Gunshots emanated from the bowels of the hospital. The gun blasts were jarring, but each one was a signal that the man was alive. Tom crept down the hallway, waiting for a beast to spring from a dark doorway or dart down a blood-ridden corridor.

  None did.

  The snarls from the building's lower floors grew louder, and for a second, Tom was certain he was mistaken, and that the things were on the floor with him. It took every bit of restraint he had to keep from running back to the room.

  A loud gunshot terminated in silence. Tom froze.

  The routine hums and beeps continued, but the snarls from downstairs had stopped. Had the man fallen victim to the beasts? An icy numbness worked its way through Tom's body as he mourned the loss of a person he might never know.

  The distinctive whir of the elevator made him jump. Holy shit. The man wasn't dead. He was coming upstairs.

  Tom froze as the car crept up the shaft, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm. What if the man was a lunatic? What if he'd lost his mind? Tom jerked his head at the elevator, suddenly wishing he'd listened to his friends' warnings. The elevator emitted a distinctive ding. The doors were about to open.

  He instinctively stepped back, raising his axe, scrambling to get in an offensive position. Recalling Abraham's warning, Tom announced himself.

  "Hello?"

  He received no answer. He gritted his teeth as the doors revealed the elevator's interior.

  A lone person stood in the middle of the elevator car, shaking, holding a rifle and a handgun. A gray winter coat obscured most of the person's face. It wasn't until the man titled his head that Tom realized it wasn't a man at all.

  It was Rosemary.

  PART THREE: THE ROUNDUP

  Chapter Seventeen

  "Rosemary?"

  Disbelieving, Tom kept his axe in the air. He stared incredulously at the woman he'd thought dead, positive he was hallucinating. He'd seen her remains outside the Knights of Columbus. Hadn't he? Was this a ghost? A hallucination? He fumbled for words, but couldn't formulate a sentence.

  "Tom?"

  Rosemary's face was ashen, as if the snow and cold had taken root in her bones. Flecks of blood marred her high cheekbones. Her hair was invisible inside the hood of the jacket—a jacket he didn't recognize. She lowered her guns. It wasn't until she spoke again that Tom lowered his axe.

  "I can't believe you're alive." Rosemary tried to smile, but the trauma was evident beneath her expression. He could only imagine what she'd survived, considering when he'd last seen her. Tom pictured the bodies he'd seen at the Knights of Columbus. At the time, he hadn't been sure to whom they belonged. There'd been so many of them, and so torn apart…

  He glanced behind him.

  "We need to get out of the hallway," he said.

  Rosemary nodded vigorously.

  "How many of the things are down there?" he asked.

  "The place is infested."

  "Let's go. Follow me. There are others."

  Tom helped Rosemary off the elevator. The cold bled off her garments, reminding Tom of the bitter chill outside. Her face was flushed; her breath came in winded gasps. Her coat was speckled with creatures' remains. She clutched the pistol and rifle as if someone might take them away from her. He tried to piece together how the woman he'd thought dead was still alive as they raced down the hall, heading back to the others.

  Soon they reached the door. Abraham let them in, and Kelsey, Tabatha, Sally, and the children appraised the newcomer from a distance, wary.

  "Were you bitten?" Tom asked.

  Rosemary shook her head. Tom studied her clothing for puncture marks, but didn't see any. Turning to the others, Tom explained that he knew Rosemary from the day before. They relaxed slightly.

  Rosemary brushed off her coat. It appeared she was in shock. After giving her a moment to compose herself, Tom chose one of many questions.

  "How'd you find us?"

  Rosemary sucked in a winded breath before explaining. "I was in that school bus you saw outside. There were twenty of us. A few of us saw people in the window."

  "I knew it," Abraham said, nodding furiously. "It was my wife and I. We were trying to warn you."

  "Unfortunately, the officer didn't see you. He got out of the vehicle. And those things came out and killed him."

  Tom swallowed. "What happened after that?"

  "The bus driver took off. We were halfway down South Road when two of the people on the bus turned. It was chaos. The driver careened off the road and into a tree. The things went through the bus, tearing everyone apart…" Rosemary trailed off. She covered her face with her hands, crying.

  Tom stared at her in disbelief.

  "You were the only one that survived?" he asked, incredulous.

  "Yes," she whispered, pulling herself together.

  "But how?" Glancing at the pistol in her hand, he surmised, "With the gun?"

  "I didn't get this until after. It was holstered to the driver's body. He never even got the chance to use it."

  "Is that his jacket?"

  She nodded, swallowing. "Yes. Mine was torn by some of the other survivors during the frantic scuffle to get away. It was mayhem. I found this behind his seat."

  "That's why I didn't recognize you," Tom said, putting the facts together. "So how did you fight them off? I still don't understand…"

  "I didn't," Rosemary said, swallowing. "They let me live."

  She stared at the people around her, hesitant to explain.

  "There's something else I haven't told you," she said. "My sons, Jason and Jeffrey, were the beasts on that bus."

  Tom stared at Rosemary in disbelief. He tightened his grip on the axe. "I don't understand. Were they bitten?"

  "No. They've been this way for a while."

  Tom's blood raged as understanding crept in. He stared at Rosemary as if she'd made a mistake, but she remained silent, neither taking back nor refuting what she said. "You led me to believe they were dead! I grieved alongside you at the Knights of Columbus! You knew what your sons were, and you didn't tell me?" He stepped toward her, murderous intent in his eyes, temporarily forgetting about the weapons in her hands.

  Rosemary watched him guiltily. "I lied to you, Tom. I did it so you'd help me find them. I'm sor
ry. I knew it was wrong. But I had to get to them."

  Tom's hands shook with anger at her betrayal. What else did this woman know?

  Was she really here to help them?

  "Where did you find them?" Tom demanded.

  "In the woods outside of the Knights of Columbus."

  "They were probably there the whole time. They killed all those people!"

  "I… Yes, they did. Them and some others."

  "You knew what they did, and you said nothing?" Tom took another step toward her. "You tricked me into helping you!" he spat. "You lured me out of Colton's house."

  "Would you have helped me otherwise?" Rosemary asked, plaintively.

  "Of course not!" Tom glanced at the door, as if a horde of beasts might come crashing through it. "Why should I believe a word you're telling me now? You're probably lying, so you can lure them in here!"

  "I'm not." Rosemary's face was grave. "I'm in as much danger as you are."

  "I don't believe that."

  "Didn't you hear the gunshots downstairs? I had to fight my way up here. I saw survivors, and I wanted to help." Rosemary sighed. "A lot of what I told you was true, Tom. I wanted to find and protect my children. I did what any good mother would do. "

  Tom stared at her, outraged. "A good mother? It's your fault those people on the bus are dead!" Tom restrained himself from screaming. "You never should've taken your kids on there! What were you thinking?"

  Rosemary wiped her face, inadvertently—or perhaps intentionally—flashing the pistol. Sally gasped and stepped back, clinging to the children. Tom eyed the guns, trying to determine if he could overpower Rosemary. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Abraham take a tentative step back.

  Rosemary bowed her head, blinking away tears. She lowered the gun. "When I first found out what Jason and Jeffrey were, I thought I could control them. I thought I could keep their secret. It was easier before I'd seen what they did firsthand. But now, after seeing them change…after seeing them kill on that bus…"

  "How long have you known about this?"

  "A year." Rosemary lowered her head. "My husband, Ron, was one of them."