windows. There was a soft clicking sound and then it all stopped. She waited, listening to the quiet for a long time, but there were no more sounds, except for her own labored breathing and Jumper panting as he leaned into her.
Charlotte carefully stepped across the room to where she had left the kerosene lamp. With shaking hands she lit the wick and turned up the light. The lamp cast a brighter light and a wider circle, it was much more comforting than the flashlight was. Turning slowly she inspected the room. All was right within her tiny part of the world. The creatures, whatever they were, remained quiet. Jumper stayed close to her as she hurried to Sam's writing closet. It was where he kept his rifle.
Charlotte had never seen him hunt in the three years they had been dating, though she knew he had in the past. She'd been hunting when she was younger, but freezing in a deer stand for hours on end lost its appeal quickly, and she hadn't been since she was seventeen. She knew how to shoot though, and that was what mattered at this moment.
She took the rifle from its case, as always unlocked which, for once, she was happy for. She opened the desk drawer, and there beside notepads, pens and a loose zip drive, was a box of ammunition. She carefully loaded the rounds into the rifle and, carrying the rifle as her granddad had taught her, she went back to the living room.
The chittering rose around the house. The things were moving again, fighting each other and bumping against the walls. Charlotte sat on the sofa and held the rifle close. She waited for the sun to come up.
5
Four hours felt like fourteen, but finally the sky began to lighten. Throughout the night, Charlotte had sat on the sofa, clutching the rifle and trying not to scream every time she heard a thump or slither, or the eerie chittering sounds. Several times she steeled herself to burst out onto the deck to confront the creatures, but then she reminded herself that it was pitch black outside, she hadn't used a rifle in years, and she didn't know what the hell those things were. She didn't even know how big they were. She never saw them through the windows, or the glass door, but the thudding sounds they made as the bumped into the walls or into each other made her think of something with a lot of mass.
As the early morning light filled the room, the noises retreated. She could hear them shuffling and chittering as they left the deck. By the time the sun had risen completely, the noises had stopped. Slowly, and as quietly as she could, Charlotte went to the patio door, and pulled back the blinds. It was no longer snowing, and the snow on the deck was a trampled mess. Looking left and right, all she could see were tracks and larger places where the creatures had rested, lying down, or sitting, during the night. As far as the things themselves, there wasn't a sign of them.
Gripping the rifle tightly in one hand, she lifted the latch and pulled the sliding door open. It was cold in the house, but the puff of air that came in was even colder, and it brought with it a deep, musky scent, like a skunk, only sweeter. She sniffed the air. Was that what those things smelled like?
Jumper squeezed in beside her, sniffing, then darted out the door. “Jumper!” She called as the dog raced across the deck, down the stairs that were covered with trampled snow, and began to sniff furiously at the ground. “Get back here,” she hissed. Jumper ignored her and lifted his leg. In the quiet she heard a gentle splattering sound. Then, he trotted off and repeated the procedure at the corner of the house.
Charlotte put on her boots, and holding the rifle in shaking hands, she stepped out onto the deck. She crossed the snow and ice covered wood and turned to look at the roof. The snow there was trampled as well. In a few places the snow had completely fallen away, and the black shingles showed through. She looked down at her feet, seeing the tracks. There were so many of them that it was hard to distinguish them from one another, but every once in a while she got a glimpse of a print, something like an oblong paw, with four toes, one of which was offset to the side a little. She realized that the little offset toe was a thumb, or something like it.
What kind of animal made these tracks? She didn't know. The only animals she knew of around here with thumbs were racoons, and looking at the tracks, remembering the sounds from, last night they must have been some big-ass racoons.
Jumper returned, still sniffing at the ground. She called to him and he bounded up the steps, giving her a sharp look as he passed. Charlotte sniffed and looked around again. Other than the disturbances in the snow, and the faint scent, which was even now dissipating, there was no sign of whatever creatures had haunted her last night. She went back into the house and put on her coat and gloves, then slinging the rifle over her shoulder she went back outside to check on the generator. What she found both infuriated and terrified her. The cable connecting the machine to the house was frayed and ruined. Something – one of those things – had chewed through it. Why had they done that? She couldn't think of a reason, if there was any reason other than one of them had felt a bit peckish in the night.
Charlotte opened the fuel cap, and though she couldn't seen into the tank, she could she could smell the gas. The thing would have run through the night if it weren't for the damaged cable. She cussed as she screwed the cap back into place and went back into the house.
She found her phone underneath the lip of the cupboard under the sink. It was intact, but the battery was dead, not that it would have been any use to her fully charged. She picked up the cordless phone, realized it wouldn't work without power, and barely restrained herself from hurling the useless plastic across the room.
She went to the front door and pulled it open. The snow there was trampled too, and in one hard packed lump of snow a fluff of dark red fur was caught. She knelt beside the tuft of fur. There was more in another spot and she assumed it was from the screeching fight last night. Jumper whimpered at her from the doorway, and Charlotte shushed him. Standing, she took one last look around before going back inside.
She started the fire in the wood stove, and brought some more firewood inside. She ate some dry cereal straight from the box while Jumper crunched kibble from his bowl, and thought about what to do next. There was no sign of those things from last night. Where could they have gone? She no longer had any desire to stay here by herself, but the time to change her mind was long past. Now all she could do was wait until the road was cleared. When would the snowplows come through? She was too far out, and her hopeful expectations of the day before seemed ridiculously optimistic now. She hadn't even managed to get the driveway cleared yesterday. Even if a plow came by now, she would still have to dig her way out to the road.
I could just start walking. Head down the road to the neighbors. Tell them...just tell them I got spooked being snowed in out here by myself. She hated herself for the idea, Charlotte had always considered herself to be above such feminine hysterics, but it was true. She was freaked out about the whole situation. But walking would require her to be out in the open. What if those things came back? What if they attacked? Would they attack? Finally, she decided to go with her original plan. She would start shoveling out the driveway, that way when the plows came she could abandon ship ASAP. It would allow her to stay close to the house, in case the creatures came back. She felt secure in the house. The things hadn't been able to get in last night, and she was sure it would continue to protect her.
Having something to do stilled her shaking hands and frayed nerves. She still ached from her exertions the day before, but she was sure she would loosen up soon enough. Charlotte dressed again, adding the snow pants to her outfit, and slung the rifle over her shoulder. Jumper tried to follow her out the door, but she pushed him back inside. “It's too cold. You'll freeze your little balls off out there.” Jumper huffed, but stayed, and she left the inside door open so he could watch her through the glass of the storm door.
The work was hard. Harder than the day before. The snow was deeper, and more compressed. Her back and arms soon shouted at her to rest, but she kept on going. Her only thought was to get the driveway done. If she could just get this done, everything wou
ld be all right. She stopped every minute or so to look around and to adjust the rifle dangling across her back. It would be so much easier without that encumbrance, but Charlotte didn't want to put it down. What if those things came back? She was beginning to think that they were nocturnal, seeing neither hide nor hair of any of them in the last few hours.
She worked steadily for over an hour, and had the driveway about three quarters of the way done. The last several yards went through the trees that bordered the property. She paused, panting, willing the sharp pains in her lower back to go away. The next time she saw Sam she was demanding a snowblower.
She looked back at the house and made out Jumper sitting in the doorway. He saw her looking and stood, wagging his stub of a tail. Charlotte chuckled and shook her head. She would have liked to have him out here with her, but he was a Doberman, and a particularly slight example of the breed at that. He wasn't built for the cold, and she knew his paws would be caked in ice in no time. It was better for him inside. She wished she was inside. Her nose was running, and she had long ago ceased to wipe it. Her cheeks burned from the cold while she sweated