Werewolf Suspense (Book 1): Outage (5 page)

Rob followed Abby's gaze. "Who the hell's that?"

Abby's heart beat like a trip-hammer. The man stared at them. His arms hung at his sides, and his thick winter coat was covered in a layer of white. If Abby hadn't known better, she would've mistaken him for a statue, a figure sculpted in snow.

"I don't know," Abby whispered.

"Is that our new neighbor?"

"I'm not sure. I've only seen him a few times."

Abby remembered the large, cream-colored moving truck that had accompanied the man's arrival, but she'd barely seen the man himself. She'd been meaning to walk down and introduce herself, but she'd been too busy lately. With the holidays coming, her search for work…

"What do you think he wants?" Rob asked.

"Maybe he wants to check if we have power."

"Why? Isn't that obvious by now?"

"All the other cars are gone. We're the only ones home, except for the Hamiltons."

"I thought they left already, too."

"If they did, I didn't see them."

Abby gave the man a hesitant wave, but he didn't return the gesture. She felt a cold pit in her stomach, but this time it had nothing to do with the temperature.
 

"Should I go talk to him?" Rob asked.

"I don't know. He's acting weird."

"Maybe he has frostbite."

"I don't know, Rob. He's staring right at us. Why won't he wave?"

"I'm not sure."

Rob wrung his hands together, his cheeks red from the cold. His face transformed from an expression of defeat to concern.

"Hello!" he called out to the man.
 

In the distance, the man just stared, his face indiscernible beneath the hood of his coat. Rob shrugged.
 

"Maybe he's just as cold as we are."

"We should go inside, Rob."

"I'll tell you what. Why don't you go inside and dig out that comforter. I'll go talk to him."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"He's in the same predicament as us. Maybe he has some information about the power."

Abby clung to her husband's arm, hoping to dissuade him, but she could tell by the look in his eye that he'd made up his mind. Though he might've failed at getting the car unstuck, he was insistent on doing
this
.
She swallowed, the lump in her throat as cold as ice.

"I'm not leaving you out here, Rob. I'll wait."

"Abs…" Rob sighed. "At least stay in the car where it's warm."

"OK," she conceded.

She ducked back into the vehicle, the cold fabric of her coat creasing against her skin. Once in the driver's seat, she shut the door, but she didn't bother restarting the engine.

She watched her husband through the front windshield. He was already ten feet from the car, plodding his way to the end of the road. The neighbor remained in place, like a specter that had escaped from her dreams.

Why isn't he moving?

The fact that he'd made no effort to greet them was disconcerting. Either the man was sick or cold, or just plain
weird
.
In any case, she didn't feel right letting her husband walk over to him. As she watched Rob trudge farther from the car, she wished she'd made a better effort to stop him.

Everything will be fine
.

She tried to convince herself of that fact, even though her hands were shaking. Without thinking, she reached over and locked the doors. Her mother and father always said she was her own worst enemy, letting situations fester until they became worse than they were.

Now she could see what they meant.

She was letting her imagination get the best of her. Again.

Reel it in, Abby,
her father used to say.

With the car turned off, condensation had crept over the windows once again, and she wiped at the glass with a gloved hand. It looked like her husband had reached the man. Rob was waving his hands around, expressing his frustration at being stuck. She saw him pointing to the car.

See, they're talking. Everything's fine. I should probably go out and join them.

She moved her hand to the door handle, but couldn't convince herself to open it. Within seconds, the front windshield was completely fogged and covered. She sighed.
 

She'd wait for her husband to get back, and when he returned, they'd go back to the house together.

With the heat off, the car had cooled considerably, and she found herself rubbing her gloved hands together to keep warm. She patted the car keys in her pocket.
Come on, Rob
.
If her husband didn't hurry, she'd start the car again.
 

Several minutes passed.
 

Abby closed her eyes and reopened them. Regardless of the temperature, she felt herself falling asleep. She'd only slept a few hours, and she was exhausted. It'd be good to slip back under the covers, that was for sure.

Her husband would keep her warm.

Abby's anxiety began to dissipate, and in its place was the sense of adventure. Who needed a hotel, anyway? They'd have just as much fun at home.

They'd make this work. Even if they had to use every blanket in the house to keep warm, they'd manage. As long as they kept their spirits up, they'd get through the storm, with or without power.

She smiled at the thought.

It'd been several minutes, and she was getting cold again. Rob still wasn't back.

She reached into her sweatpants for the car keys, intent on starting the engine. She'd just closed her fist around them when something crashed against the windshield.

The glass spider-webbed under the weight of a body, and a figure slid down the pane.

Abby screamed.

Abby watched the person slide down the window, then heard the sound of a body hitting the snow.
 

"Rob?" she whimpered.

Rivulets of blood and snow trickled down the glass, obscuring her view.
Oh my God.
She opened her mouth to scream again, but panic stifled the sound.
 

Rob! OhmyGodOhmyGod…

She reached for the door handle and then stopped. She couldn't go out there. The neighbor was probably waiting for her. The man knew she was in the car.
 

She'd known he was dangerous; she'd known something wasn't right.

She slid down in her seat, doing her best to hide. The body had cleared some of the snow off the windshield, and she had a partial view of the road through the cracked glass. Her heart thumped.

There was no one else in the road.

She sat frozen in the seat for several seconds, afraid to speak, afraid to move. She tried to convince herself that nothing she'd seen was real, that the body was a figment of her imagination. Soon she'd wake up in the driver's seat of the car, cursing herself for falling asleep.
 

There was no way this could be happening.

Not to her.
Not to Rob.
 

The wind raged, kicking up a cloud of snow and obscuring her view. She squinted to see through it, envisioning her husband's body on the street. He was injured.
 

She needed to get out and help him.
 

Abby swiveled around the car, searching for anything she could use as a weapon. The car was barren. The only things in sight were a pile of soda cans and some paperwork. She reached under the seats, hoping to find something—
anything
—but her hands came up empty.
 

She patted her pockets until she came across something solid. Her cellphone. That was it. She'd call the police and get help.
 

Hurry! Dial!

Her mind raced as she pulled it out, tore off her gloves, and swiped the screen. She pulled up the keypad, fingers shaking, and tapped out the numbers 9-1-1. She hit the connect button and waited. Nothing happened.
 

Was the battery dead?

Frantic, she stared at the screen, trying to determine what was wrong. The phone blinked at her, as if the device were confused. It took Abby a second to process what was happening. The battery was fine.
 

The service was out.

Just an hour earlier she'd had several bars, but now there were none. Whether it was related to the storm or not, she wasn't sure, but the phone couldn't help her right now. There was no sign of her husband.
 

Was he lying in the snow, bleeding to death? Would he die without her?
 

Abby wasn't trained in any medical procedures. She'd seen CPR done on TV, but that was it. Still, she had to do
something
.
 

She had to help him.
 

Where was the man who did this?

Snow had blanketed the windows again, obscuring her surroundings. Her neighbor could be anywhere. Waiting. Although it was possible the man had left her husband for dead, there was a chance he was still in the area. He'd seen Abby. He'd seen them both. He knew she was in here, for God's sake.

I even waved to him.
 

The thought chilled her bones. She thought of the way the man had stared at her, the way he'd refused to return her gesture. She'd known something was off about him. She shouldn't have sent Rob out there alone.

Oh God, what have I done?

But it was too late.

She threw on her gloves and reached for the door handle.

Hurry!
Rob's bleeding and he's dying and he's on the ground. You need to get to him before that man does.
 

Resisting every instinct in her body, she hit the unlock button. The doors clicked. For a brief, terror-filled second, she was certain the man who had attacked her husband would fling open the doors and pull her from inside, but no one did.

The man's gone. He's probably running right now, thinking I've called the police.
 

 
She tried to convince herself of the idea as she pushed open the door. The hinges creaked as the door swung open. The snow whipped all around her.

Abby threw herself into the storm. The chill bit into her bones, finding its way through the crevices of her jacket. She scanned the street, but saw nothing. Rob wasn't in front of the car. That meant he'd fallen on the passenger side.
 

She took a tentative step. Then another. The wind heaved, and she held up her hands to shield her eyes.

"Rob?" she called out, her voice cracking.
 

She glanced around frantically, but there was no one else in sight. She trudged forward, making slow progress against the wind. She cleared the tire. Then the front quarter panel. Then the hood. A few more steps and she'd see the passenger side of the vehicle.

Keep going.

A puff of snow blew from the roof of the car, temporarily blinding her. She battled the whipping white flakes with her sleeves. When her vision finally cleared, she crept to the front of the car, then leaned forward past the hood.

Rob's body was gone.
 

All that remained was a puddle of his blood in the snow.

Abby spun in a circle, hoping to discern her husband's whereabouts. She saw several tracks in the snow, but most of them were caved and filled in, and it was impossible to tell which direction they were going. Some were going up the Pierces' driveway; some were going up the street. To make matters worse, there were also the tracks they'd made around the vehicle. The snow was coming down harder than ever, obscuring her vision. It was as if the storm had taken her husband and was intent on covering its tracks behind it.

But Rob had landed here. She knew it. She wasn't crazy.

The proof was in the snow—bright splashes of blood that colored the white powder red. She looked back at the windshield and traced the cracked pane with her eyes. Rob was out here, and he needed help.

She needed to call the police. She needed to get to the landline.

Abby ran for the house. Her throat felt tight, as if someone was restricting her windpipe, and she struggled to breathe. Though she was terrified, she knew she needed to focus. In order to help Rob—to
save
him—she'd need to pull it together. Every second he was missing could mean the difference between life and death. The neighbor was out there somewhere, and so was her husband.