Outage 5: The Change (8 page)

If only things could remain this way forever…
 

The prospect of leaving scared Tom more than ever. He knew it wasn't safe to stay, but the thought of bringing a baby on a cold, uncertain journey made him even more nervous than before.
 

"How far is the bunker?" Joseph asked, looking over at Tom.

"Only a few streets away. At least, I think it is."

"We should be there soon, then," Joseph said.

"Distances are deceiving in the deep snow," Tom warned. "It takes much longer to travel. And Maria has a sprained ankle."

"She told me," Joseph said with a sigh. "It sounds like you've been through a lot."

"We have," Tom said. "I'm sure you have stories of your own."

"Of course," Joseph said. "I assume I should tell you on the way?"

"That's probably a good idea."

While they'd been chatting, the baby had drained the bottle. She looked up with wide eyes, her curious expression filling Tom with dread and hope.

"Ready?" Tom asked the baby.

She cocked her head happily in response.

"Do you think she'll be warm enough?" Maria asked, her brow furrowed with a mother's concern. She tucked the blanket around the baby's body, wrapping her snug.
 

"Hopefully we won't be much longer," Tom said.

Cradling the baby, Maria said, "I wish we could stay here and hide somehow. The idea of traveling with an infant…she can't be more than six months old, Tom."

"I wish we had a choice," Tom said gravely. "But there's a nurse in the bunker. If we can get her there, she'll be checked out. She'll be taken care of."

Maria kept the baby calm and warm while Joseph returned the bottle to the baby's bag. Once they were packed, they opened the door and stepped into the cold.
 

"It's been so long since I've held a baby," Maria said as she cradled the infant. Memories sparkled in her eyes. "It all comes back to you. Doesn't it?" She smiled and stroked the baby's face, eliciting a happy coo.

"Yep," Tom agreed.

"What do you think her name is?" Maria asked Joseph.

Joseph pointed at the bag with the letters 'LCA' monogrammed on it. "I'm not sure. But these are her initials."

Maria swallowed, tears in her eyes. "I'm not sure what your name is right now, baby girl, but for now I'm going to call you Lana. How does that sound?"

The baby kicked excitedly under the blanket, as if she approved.

If it wasn't for the threat of bloodthirsty beasts and violent people, Tom might've enjoyed the moment. Instead, he shut the car door, hoping there'd be plenty more of them.

They trekked away from the wrecked cars and telephone pole. The additions of Joseph and Lana were welcome, but nerve-wracking at the same time. Tom found himself glancing over at Lana several times, as if the infant might disappear. Because of Maria's injury, Joseph continued carrying the baby, but Maria hovered close by. The natural worry of caring for a newborn was amplified by the situation they'd found themselves in. What would happen to the child when they got to the bunker? Tom's hope was that they'd make it safely, get through the night, and figure out a stable place for her. Hopefully she had living relatives, someone who could care for her.

Like the rest of the survivors', her life had been irrevocably changed.

In the grim daylight, Joseph looked even more disheveled than he'd looked in the car. His army green jacket was ripped in several places; strings of fabric hung from his gloves. His boots were tattered.

"How'd you get here, Joseph?" Tom asked.

"I came from my buddy's house across town," Joseph said, gesturing with his elbow. "I was with him Friday night when the storm started. We were watching a movie. And then the snow started adding up, and we got bored, and for some reason, we had the stupid idea to go snowmobiling."

Tom, Maria, and Emily listened as Joseph told his story.

"My buddy has some trails in the woods behind his house. Most of them are pretty open, and we know them pretty well. So we went out for a while. But we kept running into tree limbs and broken branches. All the trees were cracking from the weight of the snow. We stopped and talked about heading home. And then one of those things came out of nowhere." Joseph shuddered at the memory. "It ripped my buddy Frank from his snowmobile. I thought it was a bear or a wolf. I screamed at the thing, but it kept clawing him, pulling him apart. And then Frank stopped struggling, and the thing came after me. I took off on my snowmobile."
 

"Jesus," Tom said.

Joseph trembled at the memory. "I felt horrible leaving him, but what could I do? I rode as fast as I dared, but every time I looked back, the damn thing was still behind me. I lost track of where I was. The snowmobile kept crashing into tree branches. It started making awful noises, and I was sure I was going to die. But somehow I went fast enough to lose the thing. I ended up in a neighborhood I'd never seen, and that's when I realized how many of them there were."

Lana wriggled in Joseph's arms, and he stopped to check the blankets, ensuring they were wrapped up tight.

"What did you see?" Tom asked.

"People being pulled from their homes. Ripped apart in the snow. I came out on the top of a valley, and the screaming echoed up to where I was. I can't tell you how long I watched that neighborhood, helpless, wishing I could do something." Joseph wiped his face on the top of his jacket to rid himself of some tears. "Eventually, I rode out of there. I was so frantic that I went faster than I should have. I crashed my snowmobile into a large branch, and it wouldn't start. I spent most of the last few days and the nights keeping to the woods, looking for help. When I found this baby, I knew I had to save it. I had to make up for leaving those people in the neighborhood. For leaving Frank."

Joseph stopped walking, trying to compose himself. Emily and Maria patted his back.

"It's not your fault," Maria said. "You did the best you could. And you saved Lana. That's got to count for something."

Joseph stared at the baby, smiling through his tears. Tom couldn't be certain, but he thought the baby smiled back.
 

"I'm just glad my parents live in Florida, so I don't have to worry about them," Joseph said. "They left me the house to look after."

"How long have you been there?"

"A few years. I haven't been back since Friday morning. I don't know if there's anything left to go back to."

"I know the feeling," Tom said. He patted Joseph's shoulder and urged the group onward. "It sounds like your parents had the right idea, moving to Florida. Maybe when this is over, we can all move down south."

The group grimly agreed.

Leaving behind a cluster of houses, they approached a low-standing bridge in a wooded area. Pine trees towered into the air on either side of it, sporting knobs on the side where branches had broken off. A sign labeled the Quantusset River. Tom recalled the area from his journey in the fire truck. They were going the right way.

"This river winds all the way past my house on the other side of town," Tom noted.

The group nodded. They fell silent as they forged across the bridge, taking in the scenery. Although there were no cars or bodies, the woods were just as intimidating. Who knew what manner of evil lurked inside them? Tom held his rifle as if he might have to discharge it at any moment. He was keenly aware of its limitations. The bullets would be effective against men or animals, but sorely insufficient against the creatures.
 

At least we have some light left
, he reminded himself, though he wasn't sure how much.

Crossing the bridge, Tom glanced over the side at the river. The water was flowing, but patches of ice clung to the riverbank. He shivered and pulled his jacket tight against him. Checking on Lana, he saw her studying the trees overhead. Snow floated off the topmost branches, fluttering to the ground. The scenery would be both new and different to her.
 

"She's probably never seen snow before," Joseph marveled.
 

"I wish it could be under better circumstances," Maria said. "Is she warm enough?"

"I think so," Joseph said, checking her blankets.
 

Halfway across the bridge, Emily stopped and stared out over the river and into the trees.
 

"What is it?" Maria asked.
 

They fell silent, trying to determine what'd spooked Emily. The forest was silent. Tom swung his rifle in all directions, looking for danger. All he saw were the snow-covered outlines of trees.

A footstep crunched from the woods. Tom's blood raced. He glanced at his companions, as if he might've mistaken the source of the noise, but they were as motionless as he was.
 

"Get down," he hissed.

He pulled at Maria's sleeve, urging her to the ground. The others followed. They ducked behind a three-foot cement wall at the side of the bridge. The wall was barely high enough to cover them, but it was better than being out in the open.
 

Guns or not, they weren't equipped for a fight.
 

The sounds grew louder as Tom and the others pressed their bodies to the ground. What had first been a quiet noise became a parade of footsteps. People spoke in muffled tones and clothing rustled. Tom glanced over at Joseph, wondering about other survivors hiding in undesirable conditions, praying they wouldn't be found. Perhaps the people were searching for help, like them.
 

Tom raised himself from a crouch until he was eye level with the wall, glancing cautiously off the bridge. A group of nondescript couples stood at the edge of the river a few hundred yards away. They surveyed the trees, holding hands. Among them were a young woman with blonde hair and a man of the same age, as well as a few other couples. None appeared threatening. They were far enough away that Tom couldn't distinguish their conversation, but he noticed they were smiling. The blonde-haired woman gestured at the water.

Tom tensed. Something was wrong.

The people were weaponless, relaxed.
Too relaxed
. A few were wearing clothing that was too big for them. The young man looked like he had recently shaved; the woman's hair was done in an intricate bun. Their enjoyment of the scenery would've been normal if not for the carnage affecting the rest of the town.
 

There was no way they'd been untouched by it.
 

Tom huffed in a quiet breath, trying to detect the people on the other side of the wall, but he sensed nothing. They were too far away. Although his senses were clearer than before, he smelled nothing other than the crisp, cold air and the sap from the pine trees.

Tom envisioned the people grooming themselves in houses that weren't their own, enjoying a nice respite between vicious nights of killing.
 

Ranger's sickening smile flashed through his memory.

He was pretty sure his group was safe, as long as they remained where they were.
 

They can't smell me if I can't smell them.

"Stay low," he mouthed to the others.
 

Emily clung to her mother with wide, frightened eyes. Maria watched over her, and Joseph pursed his lips with fright. Tom held his breath, as if the simple action might preserve their safety.

The baby started crying.
 

Several attempts to reach the man they'd heard had failed, leaving Kelsey to believe that everyone else was most likely dead or out of range. The bunker had settled into a depressed silence. Thinking back to her time at the hospital, Kelsey couldn't fathom anyone else being alive.

She stared at the empty water bottle Silas had placed in the corner. Looking at the downtrodden faces of Mike and Officer Flannery, she tried to keep positive. She needed to remain strong for the children.
 

"Where do you think Tom is?" Silas asked, breaking the silence.

His question hung ominously in the air. Kelsey looked at the others, hoping for a response. When she was positive no one else was going to answer, she said, "I'm not sure, honey."

She looked away, suddenly certain the others could see through her lie. She envisioned Tom as she'd last seen him, sweating through the cold, ready to forge out into the snow. He'd assured her that he'd survive. But where had he gone?

Was his frozen body lying among the others?

She couldn't picture him dead.

"I miss him," Silas said.

"I do, too," Kelsey replied. "I'm sure we'll see him again."

At the hospital, Tom had taken the lead, making sure the others were safe. He'd refused to give up, persisting through his injury. If it wasn't for him, she had no doubt they'd have died.

The more she thought about it, the more she was certain he'd survived. The beasts were born and bred for the snow. More than likely, he'd succumbed to his inner urges, becoming one of the vile and vicious things he despised. That thought led to another.