Outage 5: The Change (3 page)

Even a grim sky was better than the ominous beams of the moon.

Despite washing off the blood, Tom still smelled copper, and every so often, he tasted a bitterness in his mouth that made him sick to think about. Focusing on the journey was the only thing keeping him sane.

Tom veered around the bodies in the road, keeping a wide berth so his companions wouldn't be subjected to them. Tom felt awful for Maria and Emily. Like the others he'd encountered recently—Kelsey, Silas, and Katherine—they'd been forced to endure things that no one should have to.

He needed to get them to safety.

Reaching the SUV, they discovered it empty. Most of the doors were shut, but the driver's side was open a crack. Tom found the keys in the ignition. The vehicle reeked of air freshener and animal musk. Tom used his glove to wipe away some blood on the seat, but the fluid was already frozen.
 

"Hold on a sec, I'll try to get the car started," he said, hopping in.

He cranked the key several times before realizing the battery was dead. Even if he got it started, the gas tank was empty. The driver had consumed both.

"No luck," he said, watching Maria's face fall.
 

Most of the other cars on the road were sedans; none seemed capable of making the trip.

"We'll have to walk," he conceded.

"Which direction is it?" Maria asked.

"That way," he clarified, pointing behind the houses across the street. "Hopefully, I'll recognize the streets when we get going."
 

Tom shut the SUV door and left the vehicle behind. Maria and Emily started in the direction of the yard. At the last second, Tom thought better of it.

"We should stick to the streets. The sun might've melted the snow a little," he suggested. "Plus we'll have a better vantage point to search for the fire truck."

"Good idea," Maria agreed.
 

They trekked to the top of the snow-covered road. The streetlights hung over the road like teardrops, mourning the chaos beneath them. Thankfully, they'd left behind most of the bodies. The road was pure white, spiraling out of the neighborhood and onto the intersecting street. Only a few houses remained on either side of them.

A shout froze Tom's blood.

Startled, he reached for the others. The noise was coming from the area they'd left behind.
 

Another yell followed the first.

Tom stared at the bottom of the street, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise, but saw nothing. Two nights of fighting had frayed his nerves. He suddenly felt vulnerable. Out in the open.

"We need to find cover!" he urged. "Keep quiet!"

He pulled Maria and Emily out of the street and into the nearest yard. Their boots sank into deep snow as they ran for the space between two houses. Although he couldn't see anything, he heard the crunch of boots on snow and the excited murmur of voices from the bottom of the street.
 

All of a sudden, two men ran from behind a distant house and onto the porch, holding guns. They were dressed in ratty jackets and winter caps, backpacks jostling on their shoulders. They shouted instructions at each other as they kicked in a front door. It didn't take close scrutiny to tell these people were ill intentioned.
 

"Hurry!" Tom hissed, pulling his companions deeper into the yard.

Emily faltered as Maria frantically tugged on her arm. Tom reached out to catch her. When he looked back, he noticed the men were staring at them.

They'd been spotted.

Abandoning stealth, Tom shouted, "Run!"

A bullet split the air, solidifying the men's intentions. Tom pulled Maria and Emily along as the shouts of the men grew louder.
 

They fled between two raised ranches. A burst of adrenaline pushed Tom faster. His lungs heaved as he tugged his companions, guiding them farther. The fear of being captured or shot was a dark presence on their shoulders.

Tom cursed as they fought their way through the snow. In drier weather, they might've been able to make ground, but the white powder slowed them down. Approaching the corner of the houses, he looked back and saw the two men gaining on them. The frontrunner wore a thick beard and a blue jacket. The second had a smooth face.

"I told you I heard someone!" the smooth-faced man yelled.

"There's a little girl with them."

"Who cares?"

Whether these men were worried about being exposed for whatever illicit activities they were engaged in, or bent on doing them harm, Tom wasn't sure. But he knew they couldn't stop. As if to reinforce that decision, a gunshot pummeled the house, chipping off a piece of vinyl siding next to them.

"Stop!" one of the men shouted.

Listening to Emily's cry of fright, Tom grew enraged. These men were using the chaos to their advantage. Instead of helping people, they were stalking them down, reveling in the lawlessness and disorder.
 

He wished he could control the change and fight them off. But that wasn't the way it worked. The moon was gone. He had as little control over his transformation as he did the weather.
 

Another gunshot pinged off the snow. Glancing back, he saw the bearded man rounding the corner. The other wasn't far behind. Reaching the end of the house, he surveyed their options.

The backyard was flat and treeless. No cover. The next neighborhood was hundreds of yards away, making escape impossible. Noticing an open door on the back porch, Tom diverted Maria and Emily inside.

"Come on!" he shouted.
 

They heeded his instruction, stumbling up the steps. The back door had been kicked in or used as an exit. Maria and Emily ran inside, panting as they crossed the threshold. Tom followed, glancing over his shoulder in time to see one of the men motioning to the other.
 

"Go around front!" the bearded man yelled.

Tom watched the second man dip from sight. He spun and slammed the door closed, fumbling with the lock. In a normal scenario, they'd have the threat of the police on their side—a phone call, a neighbor who'd take notice. Not now.
 

Finding himself in a dining room, Tom frantically pointed at the table. "Block the door. Hurry!"

With no time to assist Maria and Emily, he raced for the other end of the house. The crunch of footsteps outside told him the other man was making his way around. Tom navigated his way through a ransacked living room and to the front door. The furniture was tipped sideways; coffee table magazines littered the floor. He saw the open doorway. Whether the men had raided the residence earlier or the beasts had broken in, he wasn't sure, but the house was unsecure. The knife in his hand would do little to protect them against a gun.

Tom skidded through a patch of ice on the front mat and grabbed the edge of the door, just in time to slam it on a man's hand. The smooth-faced man cried in pain, losing his rifle. The weapon clattered to the ground. A rush of thoughts went through Tom's mind. He could close the door, he could spring for the weapon, he could try to attack. If he'd been faced with the decision a few days ago, he might've hesitated.
 

Not now.
 

Tom leapt for the gun, retrieved it, and smashed it into the man's jaw. The man cried out and fell back in the snow, blood gushing from his nose. Tom straddled him and shoved the knife back in his pocket. He aimed the gun at the man's face. Adrenaline surged through his body. From somewhere in back, he heard the bearded man battering the door.
 

"I have your friend!" Tom shouted in rage.

His words echoed across the lifeless neighborhood, bouncing off the walls of the vacant houses. The banging in the backyard stopped. He heard a string of curses as the bearded man processed what he'd said. The injured man groaned, pawing at his bleeding nose.

"Get up!" Tom yelled, stepping off and shaking the rifle.

The man complied. Tom forced him to his feet and instructed him not to move. Hearing the other man coming, he backpedaled until he was in the doorway.

He aimed at the injured man's chest and waited for the other man to appear.
 

Within seconds, the bearded man rounded the corner, catching sight of his clean-faced friend. The fear in both men's eyes was unmistakable. They might've masqueraded as criminals, but seeing them up close, Tom doubted they had the experience to carry through their threats.

"Throw the rifle or I'll shoot!" Tom shouted to the bearded man. "Do it now!"

Without waiting for a response, Tom fired a warning into the sky. The noise instigated action; the bearded man threw his weapon into the snow.
 

"Get the fuck out of here!" Tom shouted. "Now!"

The men sprang into motion, running from the house, backpacks bouncing. They tripped through the deep snow. The smooth-faced man wailed in pain. Tom watched them go with grim satisfaction. As relieved as he was to have warded them off, they were evidence that the journey wouldn't be without its threats.

"Are they gone?" Maria asked, shaking as she held Emily.
 

"Yes," Tom said, handing her a rifle.

Her hands trembled. "I don't know how to use this," she protested. "I've never held a gun." She stared at the weapon as if it were a foreign object. Tom held the second rifle.

"We might run into more people like them," Tom said. "Or they might come back. You need to know how to use it."

He showed her how to aim and fire while Emily looked on. When Maria was as comfortable as she was going to get, she crept to the window. Tom joined her in peering outside. There was no sign of the men. But that didn't make him any more comfortable. The guns would be useful against human enemies, but without silver bullets, they'd be useless past dusk.

"Let's head out," he said.
 

Leaving only tracked snow behind them, they left out the back door, aiming for the rooftops in the distance. Tom had already abandoned his strategy of moving through the roadways. At this point, his goal was to get to the next neighborhood as soon as possible.
 

His heart pounded as he considered the encounter they'd survived. He could've been shot or killed. Of course, he had no idea if regular bullets would work against him. At the same time, he had no desire to find out.
 

Despite gaining the guns, Maria and Emily seemed more afraid, walking faster and without complaint. Tom glanced at the sky, watching the sun poke through the gloom. A few errant rays bounced off the snow, creating a thick gloss across the landscape. Tom shielded his eyes and turned his thoughts to the bunker.

Were the people he'd left behind safe? He imagined Kelsey, Mike, Officer Flannery, Katherine, and Silas locked in a room, recounting the horrors they'd lived through. At least the children were safe.

Those thoughts led to another. Had Kelsey told them the reason for his leaving? Did they know what he was? If so, how would they react when they saw him again?
 

Would they shoot him?

Tom swallowed as he considered the scenario. In a way, he couldn't blame them. They had a duty to protect themselves.

It was a risk he had to take.
 

He needed to get Maria and Emily to safety.

Having crossed the expansive land between neighborhoods, they entered a cluster of trees. Finding cover was relieving. Tom had abandoned the idea of traveling in the roads. White-minted pines towered above them. Several branches were cracked and hanging off, casualties of the early storm. A house stood in the near distance. Tom looked back, but saw no one following them.

Nothing could be as dangerous as the last neighborhood.

At least, that's what he told himself.

They were still navigating the trees when Maria tensed and halted. "What's that?" she asked, pointing. Tom raised his gun, following her gaze. His heart beat a maddening rhythm.

Something raced to the front of the house and out of sight.

Tom peered into the back yard, but whatever he'd seen had vanished. He scrutinized the property. At the back of the house was a raised deck, sporting a covered hot tub. To the left was a covered portico, leading to a back entrance.
 

"What did you see?" he hissed.
 

"I'm not sure," Maria said, pointing at the side of the house. "But it was there."

Tom squinted against the glare of the snow. Another blur of movement made him tense and grip his gun.

"Get back," he said, motioning to the trees.

Maria and Emily leapt into hiding. Tom aimed his rifle. He envisioned the men they'd battled off returning. Would they have gotten in front of them? Whatever it was seemed to be stalking them. A glimpse of fur turned his chills to ice.

It wasn't a man.

Tom's eyes flicked to the gray sky. Although somber, there was no sign of the moon. How could one of the creatures be roaming now? The beasts should be hiding, preparing for the last night. Snow crunched in front of the house. The creature was approaching.