there’s a picket fence. That ought to make this long night worthwhile.”
She stepped over to the money closet and replaced the bills. “It’s wrong,” she said.
“In the eye of the beholder.”
“No, any way you look at it. It’s wrong.”
“Chesya, da-a-arling.” He drew out the word seductively. “If that door opens in a few hours and the whole world is overrun with werewolf monsters, are you going to tell me that all the rules still apply? You telling me you won’t grab what you can to survive? I’m taking the cash. You can do what you want.”
He was frightening her more with every passing minute, with every calculated remark he made. She knew he was going to do something crazy, and she knew she couldn’t rely on him now. She could control the blithering coward. This new persona was a different matter entirely.
She hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“I would think that we’re going to have to make some new rules if the world’s changed as much as last night. And the first rule I create is—every man for himself.”
“I don’t know. …”
“Hey,” he said, stuffing a plastic bag full of currency. “How about a little help here? And how long have we got now until the door opens?”
With a shudder, she walked over to him, praying he would lose some of his newfound confidence before they were released from this prison.
6
SEPTEMBER 17, 6:09 A.M.
C hristian had fallen asleep in the freight elevator, his legs tucked underneath his body, cuddling the transistor radio. He had kept it on during the night, listening to static instead of the horrible noises from outside. Every once in a while, another (or was it the same?) beast would scrabble at the elevator doors in an attempt to force them open. The sound was terrifying, growling and scratching and what once almost sounded like an animal’s vain attempt at speech, the words mumbled through ragged lips and extended teeth. At these times, he would turn up the volume of the little radio, but the white noise couldn’t entirely dispel the vocalizations of the monsters.
He had concluded that these most definitely were monsters, possibly even aliens from another world. The invasion had come, the ships spewing forth these beast-men into the world’s cities. It made sense to him, more sense than his other theory. …
There were werewolves loose in Cincinnati. And there were a hell of a lot of them out there.
Eventually, when the adrenaline had dissipated, he had fallen asleep, cradling the radio in the crook of his arm, intent upon its static. The soothing noise had helped him sleep. He didn’t know how long he had slumbered, but his dreams were packed with full moons and howling.
“Hello … hello … is anyone out there?”
The voice was soft, yet urgent. It was a man, and his cries startled Christian from his sleeping state. Looking around, he took note that he was still locked in the elevator, and he was still safe, still alone.
“Hello …”
Except for the radio.
The static had finally ceased, replaced by a voice, broadcasting its immense loneliness and horror with every word.
“I’m here at WKPX in Milford. There’s nobody else in the radio studio. If anyone can hear me out there, I think it’s safe to come out now. They’re gone. The creatures seemed to have changed back. I haven’t seen one in nearly an hour.”
Sitting up, Christian listened intently.
“I … I think it’s safe to come out now. This is not a trick. If you’re locked up somewhere, you can unlock your doors. Everyone seems to have … changed back into themselves. I don’t understand it, but it’s true. I should warn you, it looks pretty bad out there. A couple of times, I thought I heard gunshots. Rifles. I suggest we all get back to our families and start burying the dead. My name is Juan Cabrone, and if you’re out there, Laurie, I’ll be home soon.”
The static resumed. As though the man had never been broadcasting at all.
Christian took a few
She stepped over to the money closet and replaced the bills. “It’s wrong,” she said.
“In the eye of the beholder.”
“No, any way you look at it. It’s wrong.”
“Chesya, da-a-arling.” He drew out the word seductively. “If that door opens in a few hours and the whole world is overrun with werewolf monsters, are you going to tell me that all the rules still apply? You telling me you won’t grab what you can to survive? I’m taking the cash. You can do what you want.”
He was frightening her more with every passing minute, with every calculated remark he made. She knew he was going to do something crazy, and she knew she couldn’t rely on him now. She could control the blithering coward. This new persona was a different matter entirely.
She hesitated. “I don’t know.”
“I would think that we’re going to have to make some new rules if the world’s changed as much as last night. And the first rule I create is—every man for himself.”
“I don’t know. …”
“Hey,” he said, stuffing a plastic bag full of currency. “How about a little help here? And how long have we got now until the door opens?”
With a shudder, she walked over to him, praying he would lose some of his newfound confidence before they were released from this prison.
6
SEPTEMBER 17, 6:09 A.M.
C hristian had fallen asleep in the freight elevator, his legs tucked underneath his body, cuddling the transistor radio. He had kept it on during the night, listening to static instead of the horrible noises from outside. Every once in a while, another (or was it the same?) beast would scrabble at the elevator doors in an attempt to force them open. The sound was terrifying, growling and scratching and what once almost sounded like an animal’s vain attempt at speech, the words mumbled through ragged lips and extended teeth. At these times, he would turn up the volume of the little radio, but the white noise couldn’t entirely dispel the vocalizations of the monsters.
He had concluded that these most definitely were monsters, possibly even aliens from another world. The invasion had come, the ships spewing forth these beast-men into the world’s cities. It made sense to him, more sense than his other theory. …
There were werewolves loose in Cincinnati. And there were a hell of a lot of them out there.
Eventually, when the adrenaline had dissipated, he had fallen asleep, cradling the radio in the crook of his arm, intent upon its static. The soothing noise had helped him sleep. He didn’t know how long he had slumbered, but his dreams were packed with full moons and howling.
“Hello … hello … is anyone out there?”
The voice was soft, yet urgent. It was a man, and his cries startled Christian from his sleeping state. Looking around, he took note that he was still locked in the elevator, and he was still safe, still alone.
“Hello …”
Except for the radio.
The static had finally ceased, replaced by a voice, broadcasting its immense loneliness and horror with every word.
“I’m here at WKPX in Milford. There’s nobody else in the radio studio. If anyone can hear me out there, I think it’s safe to come out now. They’re gone. The creatures seemed to have changed back. I haven’t seen one in nearly an hour.”
Sitting up, Christian listened intently.
“I … I think it’s safe to come out now. This is not a trick. If you’re locked up somewhere, you can unlock your doors. Everyone seems to have … changed back into themselves. I don’t understand it, but it’s true. I should warn you, it looks pretty bad out there. A couple of times, I thought I heard gunshots. Rifles. I suggest we all get back to our families and start burying the dead. My name is Juan Cabrone, and if you’re out there, Laurie, I’ll be home soon.”
The static resumed. As though the man had never been broadcasting at all.
Christian took a few
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