The Shuddering Part 16

"They were eaten?" Jane's tone rang with alarm.

"Holy s.h.i.+t," Sawyer whispered.

"And you still brought us here?" She was on the verge of hysteria. "You still brought us here, Ryan? You knew there was something out there and you dragged us up here anyway?" A sob wrenched its way out of her chest. "How could you? Lauren's gone," she cried. "She's gone."

"Animal attacks happen all the time," Sawyer said softly, trying to calm her down. "There's no way we could have known, Janey. They're so rare..." But his nerves were buzzing. Those skiers hadn't been eaten by wolves or bears or anything of the sort. The h.e.l.lions lived out in those woods. This wasn't the first time something like this had happened.

"It was a one-in-a-million chance," Ryan told them, searching for a sign of understanding, of forgiveness. "One in a billion, Janey."

"Well, congratulations." Jane's words. .h.i.tched in her throat. "You won...the f.u.c.king...lottery."

"These things..." Ryan hesitated. "They're like out of a nightmare. They're impossible. They can't exist. They're huge, like seven or eight feet tall. Skinny but strong. They can jump like cats, climb trees..."

Jane's eyes grew wider with each detail, her expression a mask of horror.

"And their teeth..."

"Their teeth," Jane whispered, her bottom lip trembling at their mere mention.

Ryan fell silent, staring at the floor, seemingly overwhelmed by his own description, as though listing off their traits somehow solidified that the things he had seen outside were real.

Finally, Jane spoke into the quiet.

"So it's true, then... We are going to die."

Sawyer watched Ryan ease the pantry door open a crack while he pulled Jane into the farthest corner of the storage room. He stood in front of her like a sentinel, feeling her breath hot against the back of his neck as she jabbed her fingers through the belt loops of his jeans. Had it been any other time, he would have savored being so close, but his attention was on Oona, on thoughts of getting to April. The husky stuck her snout against the crack of the door.

Ryan shot a wary glance over his shoulder. Sawyer could see it in the way he was clinging to Oona's fur-he was preparing himself for the worst. If the coast was clear, Oona would come get them without incident. If the creatures had somehow gotten inside the house-climbed through broken windows, scavenging for food-she wouldn't come back at all. Leaning in, Ryan pulled the dog into his arms, momentarily burying his face in her neck. A second later he pulled the door open and let her scramble into the kitchen, allowing her to escape without giving himself enough time to reconsider.

They waited in a silence so oppressive Sawyer had to concentrate on breathing just to get enough air. He was antic.i.p.ating a terrible yelp, a crash of pots and pans against the floor, a window breaking, or that G.o.d-awful clacking of monstrous teeth. His arms broke out in gooseflesh as he pictured one of those creatures catching Oona in its jaws, shaking her like a dog shakes a toy.

Jane moved behind him, s.h.i.+fting her weight from one foot to the other. He glanced back at her and she gave him an embarra.s.sed look.

"I need to go," she whispered.

Sawyer nodded in mute understanding and turned his attention back to Ryan, still crouched beside the door, waiting for his beloved pet to return with good news. Sawyer swallowed against the lump in his throat, the backs of his eyes suddenly burning at the flash of a childhood memory: crawling into the backseat of a car, needing to pee five minutes later. It was something he'd never get to experience as a father-the frustration, the annoyance, the amus.e.m.e.nt of a little boy who looked just like him, or a little girl who looked just like April, begging him to pull over. There would be no trips to the toy store, no birthday parties at Chuck E. Cheese's. He would never get to freeze in the late-October cold, standing on a sidewalk just beyond a stranger's front door, watching his kid trudge up the front steps, a plastic pumpkin floating just inches from the ground. He wouldn't get the opportunity to pull into a McDonald's drive-through and buy a Happy Meal-a secret he and his mini-me would keep from Mom. And the old Fraggle Rock episodes he had started collecting the day after April had given him the news-he'd never watch those now, his arm around a little kid, a bowl of popcorn between them both, because Ryan was right-the odds that April was still alive out there were slim to none.

Just when he felt like he was about to lose it, Oona stuck her snout into the crack of the door and blew air through her nose.

"Thank G.o.d," Ryan said, letting the pantry door swing wide, both hands plunging into Oona's fur. "Good girl."

"Can I go?" Jane asked from behind Sawyer's shoulder.

Sawyer nodded and stepped aside, and Jane slunk out of the pantry, wary as she disappeared down the hall. He followed Ryan into the kitchen, looking around the place for signs of anything strange, but the cabin appeared untouched-just as they had left it about an hour earlier. If they hadn't known any better, it would have been easy to pretend nothing had happened. The only difference between now and then was that it was snowing again, big fluffy flakes the size of silver dollars falling from the sky.

And Lauren and April were gone.

Sawyer approached the kitchen door, his fingers pressing to the gla.s.s, feeling the cold it was holding back. If those savages hadn't gotten to April yet, the cold would have done her in hours ago. He told himself that she was dead, that she had to be dead, because the idea of her still being alive out there was too much to bear. If he'd just been less rough with her, she wouldn't have stormed off on her own. If he'd just insisted that she come back inside, Ryan and Lauren wouldn't have gone to get her. Lauren would still be alive as well.

He nearly jumped when Ryan's hand fell onto his shoulder.

"Stop thinking about it," Ryan told him.

"Easy," Sawyer said softly.

Ryan shook his head, a.s.suring Sawyer that he knew his request was next to impossible, but he was right: They had to focus on facts, not a.s.sumptions, and the only thing they knew for sure was that the three of them needed to get out of there; they needed to get to safety. The sooner they could come up with a plan that wouldn't get them killed, the sooner they could find April and bring her home.

Sawyer turned away from the door, and for the first time he realized just how many windows were in the cabin. Those things could come cras.h.i.+ng through the gla.s.s and end them all. "It isn't safe in here," he said. "We can't stay in here like this."

Ryan nodded, looking around as if coming to the same realization. "It doesn't help that this place is ma.s.sive either," he muttered. "Pops didn't consider what a pain in the a.s.s it would be to secure this place in case of an apocalypse."

"What if we choose a room?"

"What, like the pantry? It took us less than an hour to start going nuts in there."

"We should at least board them up," Sawyer insisted. The idea of just sitting there waiting for something to happen was insane.

"With what?" Ryan asked. "Furniture?" He glanced down the hall to see if Jane was there, then took a step closer to Sawyer, lowering his voice. "Those f.u.c.king things tore one of her legs off like it was nothing. You think they aren't going to be able to get in if they want to?"

"So what are we supposed to do, just wait for them to come get us?"

"We'll gather up a bunch of supplies, stick to one area, and if they come, then we'll have to fight."

"Fight." Sawyer gave Ryan an even look. They were both thinking the same thing: how in the world were the going to fight those things? Sawyer hadn't seen the exchange, but if they had been able to rip one of Lauren's limbs from her body it meant that they were impossibly strong.

"Look, everything has to have a weakness. Those pieces of s.h.i.+t have an Achilles heel; we just have to find it."

Jane stared at herself in the guest bathroom mirror. She looked tired, haggard, as though she'd been up for days. Dropping her gaze to the sink, she turned on the cold water. Her hands were shaking badly.

She had imagined herself in bad scenarios before-a lone gunman trudges through the halls of Powell Elementary, his sights set on Ms. Adler's second grade cla.s.s. She had envisioned herself blocking the door with her desk, then grouping everyone in a single corner, all of them low to the ground, soft whimpers of fear slithering across the linoleum floor. Despite it being no match for a gun, the pepper spray in her purse had made her more confident. If anything did happen, at least she had some way of defending herself.

The pepper spray had been a gift, still in her purse upstairs. After she had an incident in a parking garage with an inebriated b.u.m, Ryan had picked it up for her at a sporting goods store. He had offered to buy her a gun, insisting that it was no big deal, that he'd drive her out to the gun range a couple of weekends in a row, that they'd get her a license to carry a concealed weapon, but guns scared her. She had watched one of her uncles aim through a scope and shoot an elk dead during a hunting trip when she was a kid. Ryan had been there, running toward the carca.s.s as fast as he could after their uncle said it was safe. Growing up in Colorado, hunting was a part of life. Every other restaurant had a stuffed head mounted on the wall, proclaiming the majesty of the Rockies by displaying the dead. The Adlers eventually stopped going to their father's favorite barbecue joint because of all the taxidermy on the walls. Jane had burst into tears over a plate of pulled pork, insisting that the deer that hung over the fireplace in the center of the dining room looked sad, like it had been crying for its mother when it had been killed.

She splashed water onto her face, remembering her father's toughness. He would have told her to put her war face on-this was no time for tears, but time for defense. Jane looked into her own eyes, water sliding down her cheeks, her bangs wet, slas.h.i.+ng across her forehead like war paint. Her fingers tensed against the edge of the sink. Whatever was out there wasn't going to win. She wouldn't let them. She didn't care how big they were, how vicious-Ryan and Sawyer were her family, and n.o.body f.u.c.ked with Jane's family.

Shoving herself away from the counter, she stepped out of the bathroom and launched herself up the stairs, taking them two by two. In the master bedroom, she grabbed her purse and dug through it, sliding the pepper spray into the back pocket of her jeans, then moved across the room to the large armoire against the far wall. The snow was dazzling in the enormous window that overlooked the mountains, and her heart twisted inside her chest when she stared out onto the white landscape. April hadn't been that bad. Jane had been quick to judge her, blinded by her own resentment, as though April had stolen something from her, when that hadn't been the case at all. Jane wished she had tried harder to make her feel more comfortable within the group. She wished she had prodded her for conversation, had asked her about her likes and dislikes, had tried to be her friend. But now April was out there somewhere, potentially huddled beneath a pine, hoping to G.o.d that someone would come for her. Jane couldn't help but feel that was partly her fault. Her eyes filled with tears at the thought before she squared her shoulders, glaring at her own reflection in the window.

"Stop it," she hissed. "Get it together." Ryan and Sawyer needed her. There were only three of them left, and all three of them had to get out of there alive. She looked away from the trees, pulled the heavy doors of the armoire open. The scent of cedar wafted out of its interior, enveloping her in a smell that would always remind her of this cabin, of the forest, of winters and fire and the open air. There was a quilt folded in quarters at the bottom of the cabinet, a few matching pillows piled on top. Jane dropped to her knees and shoved both hands beneath the blanket, feeling around until her finger found the small hole at the base of the wardrobe. It was funny how parents thought they could keep hiding places a secret, especially from a pair of rambunctious twins. She hooked her finger along the edge of that hole and pulled. A small door whispered upward. Shoving her free hand into the hidden compartment, she felt her fingers kiss the cold surface of metal. Closing her eyes, she wrapped her hand around the barrel of her father's gun, drawing the pistol out of the dark. It was heavy in her hand, ominous despite its stillness. Carefully placing it beside her on the carpet, she stuck her hand back inside the compartment, feeling around for the box of sh.e.l.ls she knew was there. But her heart tripped over itself when she grabbed the paper box by its top; it felt lighter than she had expected. The soft jingle of metal against metal had her tearing it open, horrified as a grand total of four hollow points rolled against a brown cardboard backdrop.

She gathered the box and the gun together and dashed out of the room, concentrating on the stairs, worried that the gun would leap out of her hands and shoot up the place. She found the boys in the living room, Sawyer staring out the window with his arms wrapped around himself, more than likely contemplating running out into the snow. Ryan sat on top of the coffee table, surrounded by a menagerie of kitchen knives like some part-time ninja. He looked confused, as if unsure what their exact purpose was. Jane stepped over to her brother, presenting the gun and the box of sh.e.l.ls the way someone would present a king an extravagant gift.

Ryan blinked, then looked up at his sister. "Where did you get this?"

"Dad's bedroom," she told him. "The old armoire."

"Jesus," he said, taking the gun from her. "I forgot this was there." He slid the clip out of the handle, Jane's heart stuttering when she saw it. The clip was empty. They had four rounds. That was it.

"I can't just sit here and wait," Sawyer announced, turning away from the window with determination. "I'm going to find her."

Ryan's expression wavered between boldness and fear. "It's insane," he said.

"We have a gun," Sawyer reminded him.

"And what if it isn't effective?"

"And what if it is?" Sawyer asked. "What if April is out there and we can just shoot those d.a.m.n things and bring her back inside? Will you be able to live with that?"

After a beat of hesitation, Ryan slid the rounds into the clip and replaced it in the handle of the gun.

"Fine," Ryan said. "Let's go before I change my f.u.c.king mind."

Jane's entire body p.r.i.c.kled with nerves at the thought of it-both of them going out there, regardless of how many weapons they took.

"I'll go by myself," Sawyer told him.

"Like h.e.l.l you will."

"Who's going to stay with Jane?" Sawyer's gaze paused on her, and she gave him as brave a smile as she could muster.

For a moment she wanted to insist that Ryan stay, if only to keep one of them safe. But letting Sawyer go out there on his own was suicide.

"I'll be okay," she said softly, fighting the urge to fall into another fit of terrified hysterics.

The boys shuffled out of the room to prepare themselves against the snow while Jane sank down upon the windowsill, trying to keep it together, her gaze fixed on the deer feeder in a small clearing just beyond the house. Ryan had tossed a bale of alfalfa into it just like Jane had asked, and a family of deer was slowly approaching, thankful for the food during such a storm. Jane leaned forward, her forehead kissing the gla.s.s as she watched them, their skinny legs punching holes in the snow. But her attention wavered when a single pine shuddered in the distance, followed by another, then a third. Her eyes went wide as snow fell from the trees. She opened her mouth to yell for the guys, but she couldn't catch her breath. The deer began to bound away from the feeder, suddenly alerted to another presence, but a smaller one lagged behind. Jane's palms. .h.i.t the gla.s.s, as though knocking on the window would somehow encourage the fawn to hurry. Before she could give a startled cry, a monster leaped from the tree, pinning the deer down against the snow.

Jane screamed, stumbling away from the window, her hands pressed over her mouth. She could hardly process what she was seeing as her heart clenched behind her ribs, unable to believe how enormous the thing's teeth were, how utterly emaciated it was, before it was joined by a member of its pack. The newcomer shoved the first away from the deer, determined to claim the kill for its own, tearing into the animal's jugular as Jane continued to back away, wide-eyed, her breath escaping her throat in tiny, suffocating gasps. By the time Ryan skidded back into the living room, there were four of them fighting next to the feeder, snapping their jaws at each other, their guttural squeals loud enough to hear from inside the house.

One of the deer that had fled into the forest circled back, bursting into the clearing, terrified as it stumbled onto one of its own being attacked. And while the four creatures were busy fighting, a fifth bolted across the snow, catching the larger deer's neck in its jaws only to tear out its throat, blood fanning out across the ground as the deer bucked beneath its attacker, desperate to get free.

Jane m.u.f.fled her cry with the palm of her hand as she twisted away, refusing to watch any more. Those things were impossible-impossible-grotesque abominations of skin and bone, exactly as Ryan had described them. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing away the knowledge that Lauren had tried to run, she had scrambled and screamed, she had stared into those gaping jaws during the last second of her life. Terrified and trembling, Jane slowly looked to Ryan, and she could see it on his face-he knew they couldn't go out there. They'd be dead within minutes.

A gun wasn't going to do a d.a.m.n thing.

CHAPTER TEN.

The sun, which had been absent all day, was now setting over an invisible horizon, and the endless gray that blanketed the sky grew heavy with impending night. But the oncoming darkness made no difference; visibility was nearly zero. She could see the deck's railing just outside the window, but beyond that, all that existed was a deluge of white. Of all the years they had lived in Denver as kids, Jane couldn't remember ever seeing it snow this hard in the city.

She could only imagine how deep Sawyer's Jeep was buried now, the tracks it had made that morning probably gone. The wind howled outside, blowing snow off the railing in waves. It was one of those storms people never forgot, the kind that refused to let up until the food and firewood were gone. They were going to die here. If they didn't starve, they'd freeze. And if those two fates didn't get them first, the beasts that lingered in the trees would.

Jane turned to face the living room. Ryan was sitting next to the fireplace, occasionally poking the last of a burning log. Sawyer sat on the couch, his gaze fixed on the gun she had found. It rested on top of the coffee table, loaded and ready next to the knives, though that gun didn't make her feel much better after the display she'd witnessed a few hours before. They were speaking in low tones, trying to come up with a plan, their conversation dwindling every time she got too close. And while a part of her wanted to be involved in every aspect of their escape, her maternal instinct pushed her into the kitchen, focused on what it would take to keep them alive while they were inside the cabin rather than what they would do once they left.

She moved past the pantry, knowing there was nothing of use in there. After an hour of sitting in that room, she could recite the contents of each shelf by heart, and none of it would take them out further than a few days. She entered the laundry room, pulling open the cabinets that had always served as a catchall, and Jane found everything from extra paper towels to a sealed five-pack of Colgate, but no food. She sat down on the floor. It was ironic. The last time she had swung by Costco, she had stopped in front of an end cap stocked full of emergency freeze-dried food. She had rolled her eyes at it, thinking about how ridiculous some people were with all of that end-of-the-world c.r.a.p. And yet here she was, cursing herself for not buying that stupid box when she had the chance. It would have kept them sufficiently fed for weeks, long enough for help to come, or at least for some of the snow to melt from the road. All they had now was a few days' worth of groceries, all refrigerated-stuff she had bought to make dinner for everyone-and half of that stuff would be too far gone to eat in a few days, let alone in a week.

She pulled herself to her feet, then froze.

The light overhead flickered once, then twice.

Outside, the wind wailed.

Every muscle in Ryan's body tensed when the house went dim before blazing bright again. He slowly got to his feet, as if tiptoeing would keep the cabin from throwing up its arms and declaring a blackout. Swiping the gun from the coffee table, he slid it into the waistband of his jeans as a particularly violent gust of wind rattled the windows, sending the snow upward in ghostlike tendrils before releasing it back to the ground.

He hadn't seen a storm like this in years, and this certainly trumped the worst. He'd gone up to Whistler a few years before, hung around the Olympic Village, had a great time at the bars; then the weather took an ugly turn. A three-day s...o...b..arding trip had turned into a six-day hotel stay, then another day trying to get things squared away at the airport. It had been a disaster, but at least it had been within the limits of civilization. That blizzard had nothing on the one that raged outside now. With it being as cold as it was, one good gust could snap frozen branches and take down trees.

Ryan wondered whether they were the only people left alive in the area, whether the town twenty-five miles away had seen the likes of these monsters or if these things stuck to the mountains, where they knew they could outnumber their prey. What if they were truly stuck here, everyone else for miles having been devoured, the highway closed, the roads snowed in?

There was another flicker, the electricity's lull humming in the silence. Where the h.e.l.l had he left that G.o.dd.a.m.n flashlight? He ran down the hall and toward the game room, then stopped in the doorway, his eyes darting across the pool table they had left midplay. It had been Lauren's shot. Jane had gone to get something to drink...and April had caught something lurking in the dark.

It became clear in a flash-the animal they had seen out the window that night hadn't been an animal at all. It had been one of those things.

And it had been staking them out since they'd arrived.

The lights flickered again, then went out.

Jane scrambled to her feet and bolted down the hall, her heart thudding against her ribs, her fear of the dark suddenly stronger than her fear of taking a corner straight into the jaws of the enemy. But when she reached the living room, it was empty. Both boys were gone.

Panic seized her chest. Out of the corner of her eye she saw something move. Someone was out on the deck. She blinked, staring wide-eyed toward the figure. Was that Sawyer? Could he have possibly been stupid enough to go outside to smoke? She ran across the room, her hands pressing to the window. She balled up her fist and knocked on the gla.s.s. What are you doing? she wanted to scream. Have you lost your G.o.dd.a.m.n mind?

She fumbled with the lock when something rustled behind her. Veering around, she was ready to yell at Ryan about how Sawyer was about to get himself killed, but her words fell soundless when she found herself staring into the eyes of the man she was convinced was standing out in the cold.

Jane's stomach flipped.

"Where's Ryan?" she asked, because if Sawyer was inside, who was standing out in the snow?

Sawyer shook his head.

"Where's Ryan?!" she yelled, the world suddenly wavy with frantic tears. She turned away, unlocking the dead bolt, fear overwhelming logic.

"Whoa!" Sawyer exclaimed. "What are you doing?" He ran at her, catching her a split second before she pulled open the door. Jane thrashed against him, trying to fight her way free.

"Where's Ryan?" she wailed.

"I'm right here." Ryan caught his sister by her arm, trying to calm her down.

Looking back to the porch, she stared at the dark figure that was still lurking outside the window. Her heart crawled into her throat, threatening to choke her if the fear didn't asphyxiate her first.

"Oh my G.o.d," she whispered, suddenly afraid to move. Her eyes were locked on that shadow, unable to look away. She heard Ryan say something beneath his breath, felt Sawyer's arms tighten around her and pull her back. The shadow spun around, jaws pulled open impossibly wide. Its eyes were as black as tar, staring at them through the window as it slapped its claws against the gla.s.s.

Jane screamed, waiting for the demon to burst through the window. The thing stepped in front of the kitchen door, stood to its full height, its gray skin nearly blending in with the white background behind it. And just as she was sure it was going to come through the gla.s.s, it twisted in the wind and leaped over the railing.

"This is it," Ryan said, setting three white emergency candles onto the ledge of the fireplace, the gla.s.s glinting beneath the flashlight's beam. Sawyer had thrown a few extra logs onto the metal grate and was blindly tearing out pages of a magazine, frantic to keep the fire that had nearly extinguished itself from going out. Ryan lit the candles he'd found in the laundry room, but those tiny flames were swallowed by the vastness of the cabin.

Taking a seat next to a trembling Jane, he watched Sawyer twist glossy paper into ropes before shoving them beneath the wood. This was, in Ryan's opinion, the worst-case scenario. Without power the heater wouldn't kick on when it got cold, and the cold would come on fast. That, and they couldn't see a d.a.m.n thing, but he doubted the darkness inhibited those creatures' ability to hunt.