Werewolf Suspense (Book 1): Outage (12 page)

"I can't," she said, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "I can't do this."

"We'll start over, for real this time. We'll be free."

Abby pointed the pistol at his face, searching for signs of the man she'd loved, but all she could see were reminders of the beast. Her eyes wandered back to Lorena's gutted body, and she felt sick once again.

"You're disgusting," she said.

Rob growled.

"How could you kill these people?"

"To be fair, I didn't kill Leon or Adeline. That must've been one of the others." Rob's head twitched. "But I would have. If I'd gotten to them first."

"You're sick."

"I am what I am. I've accepted it. So should you."

"No."

She took a step forward, solidifying her aim. The tears were flowing again, and she blinked them back. Rob's body was unmarked. It was as if the gunshot wounds Tom had inflicted had already healed.
 

She might not be able to kill Rob with the gun.
 

But she'd sure as hell try.

She was about to squeeze the trigger when her body went into convulsions. Abby staggered in the snow, trying to keep her balance. The gun slipped from her grasp, hitting the ground with a
thud
.
This time her entire body felt hot, as if some foreign matter was consuming her.
 

She noticed Tom was still backing away from them. His hands shook, and he was barely able to hold the rifle.

"Go!" she screamed. "Run!"

Rob took a step toward Tom, but Abby moved to intercept him, placing her body in the way. Her head was filled with pressure. Her skin felt raw and elastic. She opened her mouth to warn him to stay back, but all that came out was a snarl.

Tom fled through the trees.

Before Rob could pursue him, Abby leapt at her husband, fangs bared.

Two furred bodies collided. In the instant Abby leapt at Rob, he'd shifted into the beast as well, and he emitted a glottal roar as they collapsed into the snow.

Abby's mind was filled with a string of images and noise. Although she could still think, her body felt like it had been usurped by some higher power, taken over by some instinct she couldn't understand. Her senses overwhelmed her as she grappled.

She could smell Lorena's blood in her nose. Tom's sweat as he fled through the forest. The musk of her transformed skin. And above it all, she could smell Rob's breath, laced with the blood of the people he'd killed.
 

The stench was on his breath and his claws, and she huffed it in as she fought against him, reminding herself of the things he had done.

They rolled across the snow in a heap, each of them clawing and tearing, each trying to get a handhold. The pain in Abby's leg had subsided into the background, allowing her to focus.
 

Several times she tried to speak, but nothing came out—only a growl. Her body was larger,
different
than before, and she had to work to control it. After several seconds of struggle, she managed to roll on top of Rob, and he bucked and writhed beneath her. She pressed against him with the weight of her body.

She glared at the beast below her. His eyes blazed red, and he stared at her as if she were nothing more than prey.

Although Abby was bigger than she'd been before, Rob was stronger, and he hurled her backward and onto the snow. Abby sank into the powder, her fur matted white. Ice clung to her fur and paws. She realized she was no longer cold. The sting of the elements had disappeared after her transformation, as if she was born and bred for the snow.
 

A snarl drew her attention. She rolled to the side just in time to avoid Rob's lunging body, and he sank to the earth next to her. She could hear his heartbeat in his chest, and the thump was so loud that for a second she thought it was her own. She took to her feet and faced him, but Rob had already regained his balance.

The two wolves circled each other, hands outstretched, maws open, as if adhering to some ancient ritual. Abby's eyes penetrated the darkness, searching for an opening. Across from her, her husband did the same. The snow parted and churned beneath their feet. Rob took a menacing swipe, and she ducked to the side, narrowly avoiding it. She returned with a swipe of her own.
 

They continued the dance for almost a minute, testing each other, each of them waiting for the opportunity to lunge. Abby's mind was consumed by the battle. In just a few minutes, she'd forgotten about the people her husband had killed, and her mind was fixated on the opponent across from her. It was as if her brain had made the decision to kill, and all that was left was for her body to carry out the orders.

Somewhere in her subconscious, she could smell burned rubber. Tom had reached the car, and was doing his best to free the tires. Rob sniffed the air, as if he, too, sensed the man escaping.
 

Out of nowhere, Abby's eyes flitted to Lorena's corpse. The coppery odor of blood filled her nasal cavity, drifting into her mouth.

This time, instead of making her sick, the scent made her hungry.
 

She stared back at her husband. Although his claws still hung in the air, she noticed he'd taken a step backward. No words had passed between them, but his message seemed to hang in the air.
Join me.
 

Her nostrils flared, and suddenly she could smell the scent of a dozen other wolves lurking through the forest. It was as if they'd been hovering close by, waiting for her to accept his invitation.

Her mind spun, a revolving wheel of thoughts that spanned the length of her life. She saw her first kiss, her high school graduation, the day she'd met Rob.

Her mind hung on that last memory, and she felt something stir deep within her.

This didn't have to be the end. It could be the beginning.
 

Join me. Join us.

Abby felt a swell of emotions building inside her. Despite her best efforts, she was losing the battle. Her fists clenched and unclenched, and her claws dug into her skin. The scent of Lorena's body next to her was driving her to madness, and she needed to act, needed to do something. Abby let out a guttural roar, bellowing into the air and into the trees around her.
 

Her husband took a step toward where Tom had fled. Abby's eyes wandered back to his, but she didn't move.

She couldn't do this. She couldn't
be
this.

With a snarl, she lunged at her husband.

Abby put her full weight into the pounce, and suddenly Rob was beneath her. She tore at her husband, ripping into his face, his skin, hoping to peel back what she'd become. She felt the hot spurt of blood hit her face, but instead of recoiling, she reveled in it, biting and scratching and tearing until the thing beneath her was little more than a pulp, a tattered carpet of fur and skin.

She could taste the texture of flesh in her mouth, and she rolled it on her tongue, then spat it out, fighting the impulse to swallow.
 

She continued tearing at him even as the rest of the pack sprang from the trees around her, ripping into her sides and shredding her skin. She was surrounded. No way out.

She tried to fight them off, but the creatures had her flanked on all sides. She saw blobs of fur and eyes, glimmers of teeth and claws, and pain exploded through her body. Her limbs were useless and limp. Despite her struggle, Abby's consciousness began to slip.
 

With the last of her energy, she let out one final roar—for herself, for her husband, and for all the people she was powerless to save.

The last thing she heard was the whir of Tom's tires in the distance.

At least one of us got away…

READ ON FOR A PREVIEW OF

OUTAGE 2: THE AWAKENING
OUT NOW!

Preview of

OUTAGE 2: The Awakening

Prologue

Tom Sotheby pounded the wheel of the SUV, his eyes alternating between the forest and the road. He revved the accelerator, listening to the tires scream, but the vehicle remained hopelessly stuck in the snow. He wasn't safe. Not yet.

"Come on, you piece of shit!"

Growls and commotion spit from the trees, reminding him of the grisly scene he'd just escaped. He let his foot off the gas pedal, then stomped it again. The wheels spun. Even if he survived the night, he had no idea what would become of him. His wife Lorena was dead. Gutted like a piece of meat. And he was next.
 

I can't believe Lorena's gone…

And so was Abby.

He felt a pang of sorrow for the girl he'd rescued. She'd been one of them. She'd been bitten, and she'd turned. In the throes of her transformation, she'd thrown herself into the fray and traded her life for Tom's.

He couldn't let that be in vain.

He dried his tears and glanced at the passenger's seat, eyeing the rifle he'd managed to salvage. The gun was empty. Even if it were loaded, it'd be useless against the creatures in the forest. He'd already spent his ammunition and failed. He had no extra rounds.

What the hell were these things?

He'd never seen anything like them. From what he could tell, they used to be human, but they'd become something else—beasts with claws and fur, elongated noses, and pointed teeth. Animals birthed for hunting.

He toggled between reverse and drive. The SUV lurched back and forth. The road was bathed in snow—eight inches, if he had to guess. It'd been difficult to drive a half hour ago, and it was even harder now. He stared through the cracked windshield, watching snow spit from the sky. The wipers scraped back and forth over fractured glass.
 

Squeak…squeak…

"Come on!"

The four-wheel-drive was engaged. Even with the extra power, the SUV wouldn't move. Tom peered through the driver's side window, certain the beasts were almost upon him. The noise in the forest had ceased. The things had already succeeded in ripping apart Abby, the only other survivor he'd met.
 

They'd be coming for him next.

Tom revved the gas again. If he couldn't get the SUV moving, he'd head out on foot. There was little hope he'd outrun the beasts, but he'd damn well try. Sweat trickled from his brow and adhered to his face. He could see his breath in front of him. Even with the heat on, the vehicle was freezing—the cold pored through the cracks in the windshield, and it fought against the warmth.

The tires spun.

Tom gritted his teeth and grabbed for the empty rifle. He reached for the door handle, ready to flee. He stopped when he saw what was waiting.
 

A pack of shadows had emerged from the forest. He saw a glimmer of red eyes, the glint of teeth and claws. The beasts raced toward him. He drew back and mashed the door lock button, then shifted into drive.
 

He dropped the rifle in his lap. Slammed the gas pedal.

Move, you son of a bitch!

The vehicle climbed and stopped, climbed and stopped. The beasts were three hundred feet away, spewing from the forest like ants from a dirt mound. He watched as they loped faster, gaining ground. Tom pushed the pedal to the floor.

"Goddammit! If this thing would just—"

The vehicle lurched. Miraculously, the tires grabbed the snow and stuck, and suddenly the SUV was rolling down the snow-blanketed street. Tom's heart pumped faster with each rotation of the tires.

Holy shit…

The things veered from the woods to the road. Closing in.

Tom couldn't tell how many there were. At the moment, they were nothing more than a myriad of shadows, a legion of creatures that seemed like they'd come from hell to take him.

Maybe he
was
in hell. He could think of no better explanation.

The world had transformed from something he knew to something he didn't. Gone were the familiar, paved streets that he'd known; all that was left was this barren white tundra—the perfect killing ground for the beasts.

The SUV gained momentum, but not fast enough. Tom heard a scraping sound along the driver's door, and he looked over to find a furred hand at the window. He cried out and let go of the steering wheel, instinctively protecting his face. The thing clawed at the pane, raking its nails along the slippery glass.

"Get away from me!" he shouted.

He snatched the empty rifle from his lap. He knew it wouldn't do him any good, but his instincts had taken over, and they screamed at him to do
something
. He held the weapon against the window, as if the mere sight of it would dissuade the beast, but the thing continued to scratch the glass. Its eyes were red and inhuman.
 

The vehicle picked up momentum, and Tom fought to stay on the road. The thing growled at him through the window. After a few more moments, the beast slipped from the car. The rest of the creatures lagged behind. He stared at them in the rearview mirror—dark demons with red eyes. Watching. Waiting.

Their motives were simple: they wouldn't rest until they got to him.
 

And when they did, they'd rip him apart.

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OUTAGE,
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OUTAGE
, feel free to drop me a line at
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-Tyler Piperbrook

About The Author

T.W. Piperbrook was born and raised in Connecticut, where he can still be found today. He is the author of the CONTAMINATION series, the OUTAGE series, and the co-author of THE LAST SURVIVORS. In addition to writing, the author has spent time as a full-time touring musician, touring across the US, Canada, and Europe.

He now lives with his wife, a son, and the spirit of his Boston Terrier.