Werewolf Suspense (Book 4): Outage 4 (The Reckoning) (14 page)

"I think it'll hold for a while."

For once, the primitive instincts that drove the beasts were working to the survivors' advantage. Rosemary had been right about the creatures fearing the fire. Tom wondered how far the fire had spread. Was it making its way down the stairwell? Was it consuming other floors?

The smoke was thick enough that it fought through the cold, like a winter campfire gone awry. Katherine and Silas huddled in blankets by the roof's edge, looking out over the horizon. Sally held them tightly, as if they were the last vestiges of her sanity. Rosemary blew on her hands, staring vacantly into the distance. Tom wondered how long they could stay out here before frostbite kicked in. By his estimate, it was only a few degrees outside. Tabatha's warnings seemed like they'd been given in some other lifetime.

It was hard to believe the woman was dead. She and Abraham felt like ghosts, people he'd known so briefly that it felt like Tom had imagined them.

He stared over his shoulder into the horizon. His hope was to see a cavalcade of lights, but with each passing minute, his hope dwindled. The battered cruiser in the parking lot was a reminder of their helplessness. Kelsey wandered over to check on the others. Rosemary walked over to stand next to Tom.

She sighed.

After a pause, Rosemary said, "I feel sick about Abraham."

"I don't see how you could," Tom said. "After all the others you've been responsible for killing."

"He died trying to protect me. And now Sally's alone. I should've done more to save him…" Rosemary bowed her head and suddenly she was crying again. She muffled her sobs in her jacket. Tears fell from her eyes.

"We've all been forced into this horrible situation." Tom finally conceded. "No one asked for any of this."

Rosemary fell silent, and he could tell her guilt ran deeper than what had happened to Abraham. Tom exhaled.

After a pause, he said, "I understand you wanting to protect your children. As unthinkable as everything else is, I can appreciate that."

"I keep thinking about them, and praying they're all right." Rosemary's breath was visible in the night sky. "Should I not be doing that? I feel awful about Abraham and Tabatha. I do. But I know Jason and Jeffrey don't have the strength to fight what's happened to them. I want to help them, Tom. For all I know, they're on the other side of that door, close enough that I could hug them. But I can't."

"If we survive tonight, we'll get them some help."

"I sure hope so," Rosemary whispered.

They stared into the night, keeping an uneasy vigil through the storm.

"The smoke is stopping," Rosemary announced.

Tom blinked hard, fighting through his tiredness. Rosemary was right. Sure enough, the smoke was waning. They'd been standing guard for almost a half an hour with no sign of the fire truck. The steady stream had become a reluctant puff. He listened for the creatures, but the banging had ceased. He pictured the stairwell filled with gagging, suffering creatures. Either that or they'd gone off in search of other survivors.
 

Maybe they'd been driven away.

In the time they'd waited, he hadn't seen a mass exodus from the building, but it was possible the beasts had slipped out some other window or entrance. Surely they wouldn't waste the moonlight without seeking more victims.

He crept closer to the door, aiming his rifle. His muscles were sore from the cold and standing in place. As he got closer to the door, he felt a wave of heat. The door's fire resistance must've expired. The warmth drew him closer. Standing fifteen feet away, Tom listened for signs of the creatures on the other side, but heard only the faint crackle of flame.

Curiosity begged him to open the door—to use a blanket to shield his hands and see what was on the other side—but Tom knew better. By the sounds of it, the beasts were gone.

"Tom! Look!"

Katherine's excited voice grabbed his attention. Tom swiveled and looked off the roof, catching sight of twin, glowing lights in the distance. The lights flickered and weaved as a vehicle navigated toward the hospital.
 

Was it help? His heart soared at the prospect.

A few minutes ago, he was sure it wasn't coming, but now his hope was renewed.
 

All at once, the other survivors were hanging over the roof's edge, hands cupped over eyes and shouting excitedly. Tom gave a last look at the door before trudging over to join them. He dipped his frozen hands in the folds of his hospital gown. The lights grew in size. Soon he could see the shape of the vehicle behind them.

A fire truck.
 

"I can't believe it!" Rosemary exclaimed. "It's really here!"

The fire truck hummed as it churned through the snow-covered parking lot, tires spitting snow. Atop of it was a ladder. As Tom watched the approaching vehicle, he was suddenly overcome with emotion. As grateful as he was to see it, Abraham and Tabatha should've been there to see it, too.
 

The hiss of brakes echoed off the building as the vehicle slowed to a stop. The growl of the engine broke through the night's quiet. Rosemary and the others waved, yelling out to the vehicle.
 

"Up here!"

"Help us!"

Their words were filled with hope. Tom waved his hands, joining the chorus of voices. A spotlight winked on from the top of the truck, swiveling, illuminating Tom and his companions.
They're coming to get us
.
It's really over.

A voice called out on a bullhorn.

"Step away from the edge! We're going to send up the ladder! Officer Flannery is coming up to get you!"

The noise of the fire truck felt like a repellent to fear, deterring shadows and demons. Tom and the others took a few steps back, obeying instructions, but staying close enough that they could keep their eyes on the truck. Tom's sudden, irrational fear was that if he looked away, the truck might disappear.
 

A mechanical whir began as someone operated the ladder. In the pale light of the moon and the spotlight's glare, he watched it rise into the sky. The sight was awe-inspiring and relieving. Tom glanced at the parking lot below, gauging the distance to the ground. He'd used ladders before, but only to clean gutters or trim branches. He felt a wave of vertigo. He held out his hands to steady himself. The ladder unfolded slowly, lengthening as more rungs appeared.

"Almost there!" the man behind the bullhorn called.

Tom had the sudden memory of Al, the fireman who had helped him from the Knights of Columbus. Was the man still alive? He didn't recognize the voice below, but he hoped Al had survived. The spotlight swiveled with the ladder, temporarily blinding Tom. He shielded his face with his eyes.

A scream pierced the air.

Confused, Tom spun to face the roof. Through the glare of the lights, he saw the washed out, terrified faces of his companions. Their hopeful expressions had faded.

In the midst of them was one of the beasts.
 

The creature looked even more terrifying in the unyielding glow, its eyes red, its fangs exposed. Its bristled fur stuck out at odd angles. Tom watched in horror as it swiped at Sally's face, tearing the skin from her cheek and exposing layers of skin underneath. Her mouth stuck open in disbelief. She stared across the roof at Tom for a moment, as if Tom might've been the source of the pain, and then she was pulled to the ground and out of the light.

Panicked screams filled the air. The roof descended into chaos.
 

The beast snarled as it ripped into Sally's fallen body. Tom aimed his rifle, but someone plowed into him, preventing a shot. He fell sideways into the snow. He only knew by the screams of terror that it was Katherine, who must've run to him for help and knocked him off balance.

Pushing himself to his feet, Tom saw Silas screaming at the beast's back. The little boy shook his fists in the air, as if his hands alone might ward off the beast. The creature spun, vicious eyes sizing up new prey. It was several feet taller than the little boy.
 

"Get down, Silas!" Tom screamed.

The little boy stared over his shoulder with panicked eyes. Knowing he needed to take the risk, Tom fired the rifle. The bullet struck the creature's head, pitching it sideways to the snow. Silas stared at the eviscerated body of Sally, still screaming.
 

"Get over here, Silas!"

The little boy ran to join him, heaving thick sobs. Tom surveyed the rest of the rooftop, ascertaining where everyone had gone. Rosemary and Kelsey were on the other side of the roof. Katherine and Silas were next to him. No other beasts were in sight.

The ladder whirred; the spotlight swayed.

Tom cut a look at the roof door. Wisps of smoke billowed from the now-open entrance. The gaping hole revealed nothing about what was on the interior.
 

It didn't have to.
 

Two more beasts sprung from the entrance, running toward Rosemary and Kelsey. Tom cried out in warning, but Rosemary was already aiming her pistol, squeezing off two shots in rapid succession, knocking one over, then the other. The beasts tumbled face first into the snow.
 

"Get to the ladder!" Tom shouted across the rooftop.

Between the noise of the ladder and the fire truck's engine, his voice was almost lost. But Rosemary heard him. She ushered Kelsey across the roof. Tom ran to meet them, the children at his side, and he passed them off.

"Officer Flannery's coming up the ladder!" the voice on the bullhorn bellowed. "Hang on!"

"Make sure the kids are safe!" Tom yelled to Kelsey. "Rosemary and I will cover the door!"
 

Kelsey grabbed his arm and gave him an appreciative squeeze, and then she hung over the roof's edge, coordinating with the climbing policeman.

"Come on, Tom!" Rosemary called to Tom.

Tom and Rosemary trudged through the snow, training their guns on the door. Tom flashed back to the evening before, when they'd fought the beasts together. Despite how much had changed between them, the situation was eerily similar. Errant smoke floated out and merged with the sky. The doorway was dark and menacing. Without warning, a creature careened from the blackness and loped across the roof, navigating the snow as if it were a mere annoyance.
 

"I've got it!" Tom yelled.

He waited until the creature was fifteen yards away, then felled it with a chest shot. He wiped nervous sweat from his brow. Every second Tom and Rosemary held off the creatures meant that more people could be rescued.
 

Another beast darted from the entrance, salivating and snarling. This time Rosemary squeezed off a shot, sending the beast to the ground in a cloud of white dust.
 

"We should spread out a little, so we can cover the door better!" Rosemary suggested.
 

"Okay!"

Tom nodded as Rosemary trekked across the roof, taking a twenty-foot buffer from him. He thought of Abraham and Sally.
 

He couldn't bring the dead couple back, but he'd kill as many of the fuckers as he could. Out of the corner of his eye, Tom caught the silhouette of Silas being lowered onto the ladder.
Thank God. Keep getting them out of here
. His gaze flew back to the door.
 

Several more shapes had emerged, heading straight for Rosemary. They were directly in her line of fire. Hoping to preserve ammunition, Tom aimed and waited. Rosemary raised her gun, her face creased with determination. The creatures got closer. To his surprise, instead of shooting, she lowered her weapon.

"
What are you doing
?" he screamed.
 

"Don't shoot, Tom!" she yelled.
 

Tom was about to squeeze the trigger when he understood.

"Jason! Jeffrey!" Rosemary shrieked at the oncoming beasts.
 

Her voice was shrill and insistent. A mother's cry.
 

The creatures ground to a halt, chests heaving, arms waving at their sides. Unlike the other beasts, these were smaller, thinner. Their glistening snouts were illuminated in the splaying glow of the spotlight. The beasts studied Rosemary with vicious eyes. She held their gaze, trying to appear unafraid, but Tom could see she was shaking.

Tom ran through the snow, his heart pounding as he watched the beasts.

"Jason! Jeffrey! We're here to help you!" Rosemary tried.

The beasts studied her. Whether they recognized her or not, Tom wasn't sure, but they hadn't attacked. Not yet. Maybe that meant something. He pushed through the snow, hoping to get close enough that he might make a difference if their demeanor changed. He raised his rifle and took aim at the larger of the two.
 

He recalled the toy truck Rosemary had found at the Knights of Columbus. The way she'd cried as she had rolled it in her hand. They were just children. He understood her wanting to protect them.
 

As sick as they were, he understood it.