The Shuddering Part 17

Sawyer held a twisted piece of paper over one of the candles, waiting for it to ignite. The end caught fire, glowing in weird shades of blue and green. He leaned away from the flame, the quiet sizzle of firewood filling the silence.

"We can't be the only ones," Ryan finally announced. "There have to be other victims, right?"

"What difference does it make?" Jane asked quietly. With her arms wrapped around her legs, she stared into the fire, her mouth and nose hidden behind her knees. "We're stuck out here," she whispered.

Ryan couldn't argue her logic. "That thing had the perfect opportunity to attack, but it took off instead. Make sense of it."

Sawyer shook his head as the flames in the fireplace grew. Shadows danced across the walls.

"You know that has to be what April saw through the window," Ryan said. "It could have gotten us then too. We were outside, standing in our T-shirts on the back patio, but it didn't make a move." He swallowed, seemed to hesitate, then asked, "You think they're smart enough to stake a place out before they come in for the kill?"

Sawyer pulled the fire poker from its holder and nudged one of the logs. "Maybe they're afraid of big groups." The log shifted, spitting sparks up the chimney.

They all went silent.

"Maybe they're like wolves," Ryan said after a long while. "When wolves sense there's a threat within their perimeter, they get aggressive. Especially if something gets close to their den. Maybe someone was close to a cave or something, the storm came in, these things didn't have anything to eat so they just kept coming closer and closer to civilization. But what I don't get is, why haven't there been reports of dead people all over the place? I mean, that would make sense, right? If they're taking everyone in their perimeter out?"

They were pack animals, that was for sure; the way they had swarmed around Lauren had made that clear. Maybe the one on the deck had been scoping them out. Ryan shuddered beneath his sweatshirt.

They went quiet again, the fire licking at the sides of the fireplace. One of the logs popped and they all jumped. A spark flew onto the carpet. It glowed for a few seconds, then faded out.

"What if they haven't found any bodies because there haven't been any?" Jane asked after a long while.

"What about the skiers?" Sawyer asked.

"Maybe they got spooked and ran away." She went quiet for a moment, then lifted her head again as if in revelation. "That's why they're here," she whispered, her eyes going gla.s.sy. "When there's a storm like this, animals go into hiding. They're harder to find. And if that's what these things eat...deer and elk..." Her words faded.

"They're searching for food," Sawyer finished her train of thought.

A chill crawled up Ryan's spine. It made sense, and at this point it was the only thing that did.

"They're hungry," she said. "And we're the only prey they can find."

They tried to stay awake, tried to formulate a plan, but exhaustion gave way to hours of quiet. Trying to keep herself from falling asleep during her watch, Jane left the boys dozing in the living room and dared to venture into the kitchen. With the flame of an emergency candle guiding her way, she went through the motions of making coffee-filling the pot, stuffing a filter into the maker's basket, adding five scoops of Folgers before hitting the power b.u.t.ton. She blinked at the machine when the power light didn't come on, convinced for a good five seconds that the stupid thing had died before rolling her eyes at herself. The routine was so ingrained in her blood that even an emergency candle did little to remind her that this darkness was involuntary. Exhaling a sigh, she settled on three gla.s.ses of water instead, returning to the living room a minute later, the candle precariously tucked into the crook of her elbow. Her father's Ginsu knives glittered in the firelight, all lying next to the revolver she had brought from upstairs. Ryan had shoved the pool cues under the coffee table, a few of them sharpened to deadly points, the rest awaiting honing just as soon as Ryan's watch began.

She set the gla.s.ses on the coffee table and moved back into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge's door. It was cold inside the house, but not cold enough to keep the food from spoiling. The unit harbored the dank scent of a refrigerator getting warmer by the minute. Grabbing the cake stand by its footed bottom, she pulled plates out of a cabinet and forks out of a drawer. Ryan still had half an hour to sleep before his shift, but he'd be hungry. None of them had eaten since that morning, and they had to keep their energy up. It was what Jane had put herself in charge of-making sure they were fed, rested, and ready when the guys decided it was time to go.

Sawyer stirred next to the fire when he heard her return. Oona's ears perked but she remained motionless, her head resting on Ryan's leg. Ryan was fast asleep under a blanket that had been draped across the back of one of the sofas, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head, his back to the room.

Sawyer sat up and stretched with a wince.

Jane selected one of the knives on the coffee table, cutting into leftover cake. She offered Sawyer a plate with a halfhearted shrug.

"Thanks," he said, taking it from her.

"Kind of inappropriate," she said. "But we have to eat."

"Hey, I'll eat chocolate cake in any situation," Sawyer told her. He made an attempt to smile, but it vanished before it fully formed. Optimism was what would keep them afloat. She was trying to convince herself that if they made it through the night they'd be home free, but even if they made it through to morning, she could only imagine how much snow had fallen in the past twelve hours. It had been nonstop, and the wind was aggressive. If the weather didn't let up, there was no way they were going anywhere. She'd rather take her chances waiting for those creatures to break in than walk out into the wilderness with a guarantee of freezing.

"You know, two years ago, when we planned on coming up here, before that ski accident?" he said, cutting into his slice of cake. "Alex had something going at work and you told Ryan to come up here anyway, just me and him?"

She nodded toward her plate.

"I was the one who decided to postpone."

Jane glanced up at him, chewing the inside of her lip, not sure whether she was supposed to respond-whether she was supposed to ask why, or if silence was an acceptable response.

"I didn't want to come up here if you weren't here too. Despite everything."

She smiled faintly and looked back down.

"I'm still glad I came," he said quietly, frowning at his plate. "I know that's f.u.c.ked up. It makes me feel s.h.i.tty for even admitting it, because..." He paused, shaking his head at a thought. April. The baby. "I guess if this is the end...if this is what it took to wind up here with you guys..."

"Don't say that. If you hadn't come, this wouldn't have happened."

"Janey..." He lifted his eyes to meet her gaze. "If I hadn't come, I just wouldn't be here when it happened. It would have still happened. But I'd be in Denver calling Ryan's cell for weeks, and I'd eventually get into my Jeep and drive out to Phoenix, only he wouldn't be there."

Jane slid her plate onto the coffee table and stared down at her hands. Her chest constricted against Sawyer's words: if this is the end. She wanted to cry, wanted to apologize because suddenly it all felt like her fault. But her thoughts were derailed when Sawyer slid up onto the couch, cutting the distance between them.

"Janey, listen..." She could smell the chocolate on his breath. "Everything is going to work out. We're going to be fine."

She nodded without looking at him, but he caught her chin in his hand, gently tipped it up so they looked into each other's eyes.

"We're going to be fine," he repeated. "I promise."

But she could see it in his eyes: he didn't believe it. He was trying to convince her, to keep her calm, to keep her sane, but for Sawyer it would never be okay again.

His world was already gone.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

Ryan stirred from sleep, and for a moment everything was fine. They were at the cabin, the snow was great, Lauren was fantastic, and he felt good about the future. But every muscle in his body tensed when he heard Oona's growl beside him. He rolled onto his back, then sat up, only to be presented with Jane and Sawyer sleeping in front of the fire, tangled in each other's arms, knives strewn across the room, the cold starting to creep in through the windows, eating away the last of the cabin's heat. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he then let his hand fall from his face, his palm slapping the slick fabric of his s...o...b..arding pants, and crawled toward the coffee table. The scent of baked chocolate roused a hungry rumble from his stomach, and he grabbed the spare fork that lay there, digging into the cake that was left on the covered stand. With a mouth full of chocolate and frosting, he rubbed behind Oona's ears, his gaze returning to his sister and best friend, unable to help the pang of sadness that flared in his gut. He should have tried harder, should have thrown himself in front of that creature to buy Lauren some more time. She had been incredible, the girl he had been waiting for, for so long, the girl he was convinced didn't exist at all, and he had let her die-no, he had let her be torn apart.

Another subdued growl resonated inside Oona's throat. Ryan froze midchew and blinked through the darkness. She was definitely at attention now, as though seeing something that Ryan couldn't. Swallowing the chocolate lump in his mouth, he stared through the living room and into the kitchen, his eyes wide.

The slight squeal of hinges reached his ears as the kitchen door slowly swung inward, and Ryan felt the cold almost immediately. Seeing the wind and snow blow inside proved that he wasn't imagining things; that door was genuinely open. Oona was staring at it too-her ears slicked back against her head, her snout wrinkling as she prepared to snarl.

The urge to warn Jane and Sawyer was almost overwhelming, but something kept him from making a sound. He held his breath and waited, praying that it had only been the wind, that the door hadn't been latched and it had finally given way to the air pressure outside. But why the f.u.c.k hadn't that door been locked? The idea of their having huddled inside this cabin, collecting weapons, considering how they were going to defend themselves while there was an unlocked door in the opposite room blew his mind. And then he remembered Jane yelling, Sawyer pulling her back, the thing on the deck. In their panic, n.o.body had realized the dead bolt hadn't been thrown back into place. And now Ryan was left sitting in the darkness of the living room, staring at it as it hung open wide, like a gaping mouth ready to scream.

The moment he saw something fill the doorway was the moment Ryan Adler was sure they were dead. Oona's defensiveness was suddenly squelched when the creature stepped inside. She ducked her head down, afraid, not daring to move from her master's side. Ryan, on the other hand, didn't move because he was petrified. With the fire to his back, his mouth hung open without sound.

One of the things that had murdered Lauren stepped around the kitchen island, sniffing at the air. Its stomach was emaciated, like that of a stray dog that hadn't fed for weeks. Long strings of saliva dripped from its wide jowls, glistening in the firelight. It sniffed the air with two holes that served as its nose, a gruesome purr rumbling deep inside its chest. Ryan's eyes widened as it began to pull out drawers, its nostrils flaring as it tried to sniff out food. Not having any luck, it finally pressed its huge skull to the refrigerator door, as if able to smell what was inside. With the fridge built into the cabinets, it didn't budge when the creature gave it a shove-not even a wiggle. The monster pushed it again, this time with more frustration. Nothing. Ryan watched this while trying not to choke on his own heartbeat, hoping like h.e.l.l the thing didn't notice him sitting there beside the fire, praying that Oona didn't make a move, that Sawyer and Jane didn't bolt upright and start freaking out.

Swiping at the door, the flat of the demon's palm dragged across the refrigerator door, and its bony fingers hooked beneath the lip that served as the refrigerator's handle. It canted its head as if curious, considering this new discovery, and then pulled instead of pushed, revealing the treasure it was looking for. Ryan went numb, dread spiking his bloodstream.

They're intelligent.

That was why they hadn't attacked days before, when Ryan and Sawyer had stood outside just beyond the pool room. It was why the one on the porch hadn't burst through the gla.s.s when it had spotted the three of them standing inside in the kitchen. They were smart. They were weighing their options, considering the best plan of attack.

He nearly jumped when a gla.s.s jar exploded against the kitchen floor. Both Sawyer and Jane jerked awake. Ryan dared to move, pressing his fingers to his mouth, silently warning them not to make a sound. He could only hope that if that thing spotted them it would run away like it had before, but he wasn't about to take his chances.

The predator fumbled through the dark refrigerator with nails that had been made for climbing and tearing. It thrust its arm inside the fridge, drawing it out a moment later, inspecting a gushing milk carton crushed within its wide, clawed hand. Lifting its arm so that milk dribbled into its mouth, it whipped its head from side to side before flinging the carton across the kitchen, apparently disliking the taste. As soon as it ducked its head back inside the fridge, Ryan scrambled closer to his comrades. The fire blazed behind them, burning his back through the fabric of his sweatshirt.

Jane clamped her hand over her mouth, her eyes shimmering with panic that threatened to spill over. The terror crushed her self-restraint beneath its weight, and her whimper cut through the quiet of the room at precisely the wrong moment.

Her eyes widened.

Ryan's attention snapped to the hairless abomination in the kitchen.

It had heard, and it was staring directly at them, its gaping maw unhinged, the contents of the fridge at its feet. It lurched forward, its nails clacking against the floor. It stopped just shy of the single step that led down into the living room as if reconsidering an attack, the firelight reflecting in its cold black eyes, glinting off teeth too large to conceal.

Every nerve in Ryan's body stood on end. Foreboding buzzed along his limbs like an electric current just beneath the skin. Oona tensed beneath his arm, warning the creature to stay back with a growl. The thing swung its head around as though it hadn't been aware of the others in the room until that very moment, perhaps blinded by the fire behind them-but its eyes were locked on them now.

Ryan didn't stop to think.

As soon as it spotted them, he scrambled to the opposite side of the fireplace and grasped the fire poker, knowing that if he didn't make his move now he'd never have the chance.

The creature crouched down, the muscles of its legs coiling up like springs, and leaped forward, landing on the back of the couch like some monstrous bird. Jane screamed, shrinking back; she was the closest to it, directly in its path. It jumped after her, its feet thudding against the varnished top of the coffee table, chocolate cake and an a.s.sortment of knives spilling onto the carpet. Its jaws snapped at them, those teeth knocking together with a sickening pop, but it stopped short of the fireplace that blazed behind them. If that impossibly inhuman face could register emotion, Ryan would have sworn he saw a glimmer of fear in its onyx eyes.

But Oona didn't understand that the monster was frozen in place. Her lips pulled away from her teeth in a snarl and she bolted forward, protecting her friends. Latching on to the monster's long, bony arm, she tore at its flesh, shaking her head as if trying to rip the thing's arm from its body. The creature released a high-pitched scream, a shriek Ryan hoped wasn't a call for help. If even one more of these things showed up, they were dead. It reeled back, swinging the arm that was being attacked, tossing Oona across the room. The husky hit the wall with a yelp, but adrenaline had her bounding to her feet, diving back into battle without a second thought.

Ryan lurched forward.

The hiss that radiated from that gray-skinned monstrosity a.s.sured him that it was p.i.s.sed, and he doubted Oona would survive another hit. Taking care of an injured person was one thing, but an injured dog-it was a near guarantee that she wouldn't make it. With the thing's attention on the husky, Ryan bounded at it, the fire poker held high over his head. He swung as hard as he could, bringing the protruding end down onto the monster's skull. The demon stumbled back as Oona fell on him, her jaws locking onto one of its legs. But the creature was too busy waving its arms wildly about its head to notice her attack. Ryan gave the fire poker a swift tug and it came free, a geyser of foul-smelling blood running down the monster's raw-boned back.

Sawyer dodged around both dog and owner, s.n.a.t.c.hing the small ash shovel off its holder from beside the fireplace. He took a swing as Ryan pulled back, hitting the savage in its emaciated stomach with the sharp edge of the trowel. It emitted a guttural wail as it doubled over, but its cry was cut short when the fire poker came down onto its head for a second time, punching a twin hole in its skull. It veered around, sneering at Ryan, and he lost his grip on his weapon. Scrambling backward toward the fire, he felt the heat lick at his back; the creature rushed after him, stopping just shy of catching its prey for a second time. Extending a gangly arm to grab him, the thing pulled it back just as quickly, its rage transforming to frustration as it wavered from left to right.

Ryan winced against the heat, sure he would go up in flames if he couldn't put some distance between himself and the blaze. Sawyer swung the shovel again, striking the beast on the side of its head, but the hit didn't seem to faze it. It took a swipe at him with its giant hands, and Sawyer fell backward, crashing against the couch. He rushed to regain his footing, but the monster sprang forward, landing on the arm of the couch, looming over Sawyer as he cowered beneath the creature's cadaverous frame. Jutting its arm forward, it caught Sawyer by the shoulder as he attempted to bolt away. Rather than running, Sawyer gave a startled cry, twisting against the creature's grasp in a desperate attempt to run.

Ryan darted forward, not sure of his intentions, only knowing that he had to do something before his best friend was torn in half right before his eyes. But he came to a dead stop when a shot rang out. The room went silent beneath the piercing ring in his ears. Gun powder soured the air.

When the creature dropped to the carpet, it brought Jane into view, their father's gun in her trembling hands.

She couldn't bring herself to look away from it, hardly flinching when Ryan bolted out of the living room and through the kitchen, slamming the open door shut. Sawyer approached the creature at Jane's feet, still clinging to the fireplace shovel, ready to swing as he nudged it with the toe of his sneaker. Oona didn't want anything to do with whatever it was, dead or alive. She cowered in the corner of the room, watching everyone else inspect the body while she kept a safe distance from the thing that had slammed her into the wall.

"Jesus f.u.c.king Christ!" Sawyer yelled, dropping the shovel once he was sure it was dead. His hands flew into his hair as he backed away.

"The food is gone," Ryan announced, stepping back into the living room. He covered his nose and mouth a second later, shielding himself from the noxious stench of rotten eggs.

"Gone?" Jane turned her attention to her brother, startled.

"It raided the fridge, tossed it all onto the floor."

That left them with nothing but what was in the pantry, which wasn't much at all. She looked back to the creature at her feet, taking a couple of steps back. "It was hungry," she said softly.

"You think?" Ryan asked, his tone verging on sarcastic.

Pressing a hand to her lips, she felt another breakdown coming on, bubbling at the pit of her stomach like a witches' brew. She swiped at her eyes, looking away.

"What the h.e.l.l is this thing?" Sawyer asked, refusing to approach it. "Look at the teeth." They were ma.s.sive, predatory fangs stained a deep yellow.

Jane chewed on her bottom lip, considering an idea that was rolling around in her head, not sure whether it was ingenious or absolutely stupid. All she knew was that if more of those things showed up for a fight, she and the boys probably wouldn't be as lucky next time.

Taking a seat on the edge of the couch, she stared at the gun still held fast in her hands. "I think maybe we should use this to our advantage."

Neither Ryan nor Sawyer said anything, and while she didn't look up from the firearm in her grasp, she knew they were staring at her.

"Aren't there rubber gloves in the garage?" she asked, finally leveling her gaze on her brother.

"I think so," Ryan nodded, then shook his head just as quickly. "Rubber gloves for what?"

Jane slid the gun onto the coffee table, her fingers dancing on its edge. And then she swept the largest Ginsu knife in their a.r.s.enal off the carpet, inspecting it. Ryan slowly glanced over to Sawyer, a dark expression drifting across his face. And from the way Ryan's mouth turned up at one corner, she knew it was a good idea. It very well may have been a great idea. And it was all hers.

Sawyer couldn't believe they were going to go through with it. He and Ryan were putting all their weight into trying to get the monster up the single step and into the kitchen. Despite its emaciated look, the thing weighed a ton. Sawyer's fingers were on fire as he yanked on the blue tarp, the creature sliding along the carpet inch by inch as they dragged it, Sawyer's joints screaming against the tension as he leaned back and pulled.

The plastic sheeting slid across the hardwood of the kitchen far easier than it had across the plush carpet in the living room, and for a moment the boys stopped what they were doing, deliberating whether they wanted to do this in the kitchen or the garage. But the garage had a steep flight of stairs leading down into it. They'd have to make multiple trips after they hacked the thing to pieces-up and down the stairs with body parts. The kitchen was a better idea. The door was right there. All they'd have to do was open it and hurl the pieces onto the porch.

Jane took a seat in one of the dining chairs and covered her nose and mouth as the boys began to unwrap their gruesome package. Sawyer had seen his share of movies; he was waiting for it to twitch, to rear up and snap its teeth at them like a cheap jump scare. But the thing was motionless. He wrinkled his nose at the stench, not sure if it was the creature's blood that stank or whether the thing spent its free time rolling around in its own excrement.

Ryan made a face as soon as he unwrapped the tarp and that fetid smell hit him head-on. Jane murmured an "oh G.o.d" when the stink finally made it across the kitchen to where she sat. Ryan swept the butcher knife off the kitchen island, the blade glinting with cold winter light. Outside, the snow continued to fall. Sawyer decided to keep his skepticism to himself, trying to convince himself that this was a good, solid plan, their only plan. But if it continued to snow, their work would be under inches of powder before any of the others could sniff it out.

He watched Ryan lean in, hovering over the creature that had nearly taken them out, poking at the dead thing with the tip of the knife like a curious kid. The blade sc.r.a.ped across one of the creature's fangs, setting Sawyer's teeth on edge.

"Look at the eyes," Ryan said, noting the beads of onyx deeply set above those gaping jaws. "No eyelids. And the hands..." They nearly looked human, albeit flattened out, the fingers gruesomely crooked and long.

"Hurry up," Jane told them from behind a cupped palm. "It stinks."

"What's this supposed to accomplish again?" Ryan asked, seemingly hesitant to hack up the thing in front of her.

"They might have an aversion to the scent of their own blood, or the sight of their own kind dead somewhere. Some animals see the corpses of their own species as a sign of danger. They avoid it."

"And if these things don't avoid it?" Ryan asked. When Jane failed to reply, he looked back down to the corpse and took a breath. "Let's get this over with," he said, and before Sawyer could step back, he plunged the knife into the creature's chest. Jane gasped and looked away, but the blade hardly pierced the thing's flesh, striking the breastbone, leaving Ryan struggling to free the knife. A moment later he straightened out of his crouch, cleared his throat, and made an announcement. "I'll be right back," he said. "I need to get the ax."

Jane's eyes went wide.

"What?" Sawyer asked, blinking at his friend. He couldn't believe it. They had fought that thing off with fireplace tools when they could have been swinging a hatchet.

Ryan threw his hands up in surrender. "I forgot about it," he confessed. "It slipped my f.u.c.king mind."

"Are you kidding me?" Sawyer shook his head, backing away from the cadaver on the kitchen floor. "Are you sure that snowplow I asked you about doesn't exist?"

Ryan scoffed. "You got me. It's there. So is the helicopter that'll whisk us to safety. I'll grab the keys."