“We have to get him help. He’s dying.”
“I don’t know if there’s anything we can do for him, Mark. He’s lost—“ he bit back the nervous voice in his head that started screaming about lost flesh— “he’s lost a lot of blood. Even if we get him out of here, he doesn’t even have a coat. He’ll freeze to death out there.”
“This is insane.”
George looked at him for a long time without speaking, as his body started warming up. “Yeah, it is. This is fucked up beyond all repair.”
“Why didn’t they just kill us?”
“I don’t know.” That was the end of their conversations for a while. They sat in uncomfortable silence that was broken only by Cullie’s fevered moans and the winds that pushed through the openings and tried to steal what little heat they managed to capture.
The Hillside Township Emergency Center welcomed the men, despite their nudity. If a few people looked concerned or amused, they pushed those thoughts aside as Roland handed over Allison Lassiter.
He didn’t wait around to talk to anyone, but turned around and headed back into the blizzard. There were still things that had to be taken care of, still dangers left for him and his to deal with.
They had only run a portion of the distance back to the house when John veered away from them and toward the woods where they had left the men.
Whatever he did, it was John’s decision to make.
They’d discussed that earlier.
Roland had made his proclamation and John had given a great deal of thought to what to do. Both Loman and Heatherly had fought well and done all they could to survive. As Landers had handled the worst of the crimes, John decided to let them have another chance at living. In the end, he’d left them at the church.
“I told Landers if he lived through it, I would let him go.” He said the words softly.
“What do you think his chances are?”
“I bit him and let him live.”
“Will you keep your word to the man who killed your wife?” Dave had been the one to speak up. Dave, who was loyal to a fault and always willing to state his opinion; He also happened to be the police chief these days.
“I don’t know,” John had answered truthfully. “It might be dangerous to let one like that become one of our kind.”
Roland laughed when he heard those words. “Might be? It is dangerous. Don’t be foolish.”
“You said it was my call, Roland!” He wasn’t quite challenging, but he was getting closer to it.
“It is your choice.” Roland had leaned in closer and snarled, and John had wisely backed down. “But your promise to let him live doesn’t mean we let him into our community or stand by if he goes too far.”
Now Roland was heading back to deal with Lassiter and Fulford. That was his place. John would have to handle whatever happened in the woods. That was his place.
Everything would work out. He promised himself that much. Everything would work out because it had to work out.
They moved through the storm, he and his two remaining companions, ready to deal with the issues that remained.
Eric wanted to leave, and had intentions of doing so as soon as it was possible, but first he had to deal with Scott, who was practically wearing a hole in the carpeting.
It was one of the women in the room who came up to them next. She was attractive, with dark hair shot through with gray, and could have been anywhere between her late twenties into her forties. She had a weathered look to her skin, but had not developed any of the physical signs that he associated with middle age.
There was nothing demure or shy about her attitude. She stepped forward and looked directly at Scott. “You want to go to your woman?”
Scott couldn’t have said, “yes” faster if his life depended on it.
Without a single word beyond that, she did exactly as the men had done and began taking off the majority of her clothes. Unlike the men, however, she grabbed a bag and shoved her skirt and blouse into it.
One of the remaining strangers, a man, stepped toward her and whispered something softly into her ear. The expression on his face made it clear he wasn’t trying to get romantic.
Her body was in nearly perfect shape. Her breasts were full, but gravity had taken its toll on them. Aside from this one admission to age, the rest of her figure belonged to an athlete. She nodded her head at the man’s comment and handed him the bag to hold for a moment. Then she changed with the same violent abruptness as the males of her kind, literally ripping out of her skin to reveal a dark gray form covered in thick fur.
Eric looked her over, too shocked to speak for the moment. Her height was close to seven feet; her body was still hard muscle, her breasts were still there, though buried in the thick fur that trailed down her belly to join with growth of fur near her pubic region.
Without preamble she grabbed her sack of clothing and then draped it around her neck. “Come with me, Mr Lassiter. We’ll find her.”
Scott stared at her for a moment, just as shocked as Eric, and then headed for the door. She shook her head and dropped to all fours behind him, then brushed past him in the hallway. Three times she blocked his path and three times he tried to move around her before the man who had spoken to her explained.
“The storm is worse now than it was a while ago. The roads are impassable. If you want to see your wife, you’ll have to ride her like a horse or you aren’t going anywhere.” He spoke calmly enough, but had an amused expression on his face.
Scott shook his head and after a moment of wondering how he was supposed to handle the change in plans, slung a leg over the monster’s waist and then leaned forward until his arms were around her neck. If carrying a 180-pound man caused the creature any difficulty, she hid it well. A moment after that they were out the door and lost in the flurry of white that fell from the skies.
Eric shook his head, still trying to convince himself that every thing going on around him was real.
Sarah brought him back to reality when she came over to put her head on his shoulder. He looked back the way she had come and saw his boys had fallen asleep.
And exhaustion reared its head and reminded him that he’d been riding on caffeine for the last two days. All of his worries about his friends paled next to the siren call of sleep.
Eric and Sarah moved over to the couch near where the boys were sleeping, and his wife, already as close to a perfect person as he had ever met, slid the cushions aside to reveal a fold out bed.
The strangers in the house with them saw what was going on and moved away, leaving them in peace.
After they were both in the bed Eric looked at Sarah and smiled. “We’re almost out of here, Sarah. We’re going home soon.”
“I hope you’re right. I miss that stupid house.”
In response he pulled her closer and rested his head so that their faces touched. He was asleep in minutes. His dreams were all nightmares, but he didn’t remember a one of them when he woke the next morning.
They did their best to sleep, still shivering whenever a breeze pushed through the broken down walls of the church and slithered to their corner where the fire crackled and glowed.
Mark had more trouble with the idea than George, who was now curled up and snoring softly to himself. Cullie continued to hang on, whimpering occasionally and from time to time trying to turn over in his fevered rest. Mark couldn’t understand how the man could do anything at all except scream in pain.
He drifted for a while, not quite asleep and not fully aware either. He might have actually been taken by dreams if it hadn’t been for Cullie’s sudden screams.
Mark sat up, blinking sleep from his eyes, and looked over at the pew where Cullie had been resting in relative peace. Cullie was still there, but hardly resting. The man’s body was contorted, and his mouth was wide open as he gulped in air and started yelling again. With no idea what was going on, Mark stood and rushed to his friend’s side.