32
Rayne
Lights Out
M y hands were stiff and cold as I peeled my gloves off, dumping them into the storage container alongside my climbing harness.
It had taken me even longer than I expected to climb up the cell tower, thanks to the freezing temperatures making the metal slick with ice.
A massive branch had become entangled on the transceiver, but with it removed, the ghostly green glow of the live trail cameras had returned to the fire tower’s square room.
The old monitors were stacked precariously on the desk, their glass cracked and their old plastic bodies brittle.
Blackridge wasn’t swimming in tax revenue; the tools we had were community-funded, but they were old and breaking down.
Every winter, I begged them to last just one more year, and so far they had clung to life.
My body ached with exhaustion, and I collapsed face down on the bed.
The sun was just setting, but the storm clouds made it so dark, it may as well have been night.
There was no way I was making it back home tonight.
More than I wanted food, more than I wanted rest, I wanted to talk to Salem.
To hear her voice, to know she was okay.
No amount of exhaustion could dampen how much I looked forward to simply hearing her voice.
Was something wrong with me? Was this just an obsession, or was the warmth I felt when I thought of her something else entirely?
The memory of her smile made my stomach feel like it was shaking.
When I reached under my pillow and pulled out the Polaroids of her, all the heat rushed to my face and instantly, I was smiling like a fool.
Click.
The room suddenly plunged into darkness. Rattled, confused, I sprung out of bed and hurriedly flicked the light switch off and on. Nothing. The monitors were off. The CB radio was too. Zipping up my coat, I went out onto the walkway and peered down to the pitch-black forest.
The floodlights surrounding the tower, meant to dissuade the angel from approaching, were off.
“Goddamn it, the electricity is out,” I muttered. Grabbing my flashlight from the table, I opened the breaker box near the door.
“Come on!” Turning on and off the breaker did nothing. My only option was the backup generator at the base of the tower.
Snow was falling heavily now. With my gun loaded and ready, I slowly made my way down the tower.
The stairs creaked, the tower groaning in the storm.
Cold wind whipped my face and I kept my head ducked down, swinging my flashlight across my path.
Even if something was waiting for me at the bottom of the tower, I couldn’t hear it over the howling wind.
I couldn’t see it in the dark.
The generator sputtered when I tried to turn it on, and I swore as I swung the flashlight around, looking for the supply shed where I would hopefully find fuel.
Snap.
The crack of a twig instantly drew my light. The beam reflected off the glittering snow, barely piercing the shadows. The trees swayed in the wind, and beneath them, the darkness was so thick it was like a physical wall.
“Honey?”
My back knotted with tension, but I didn’t dare move a muscle. Had I actually heard someone? Or was it just the wind, the creak of the trees?
“Where are you, honey? I can’t see you.”
That voice reached deep into my subconscious, piercing into a wound I didn’t know was still open. I held my breath. I didn’t speak, nor move my light even an inch.
“Come back to Mommy, honey.”
My teeth were gritted so tight, I expected them to crack. It was my mother’s voice. But it shouldn’t have been. It couldn’t . She died before the beast arrived, it couldn’t have known her voice.
And yet...
“Rayne? Don’t upset Mommy.”
From the shadows, just a few feet to the left of my flashlight’s beam, a long, sickly pale limb reached out.
Then another. Then two more. Joints popped in and out of place, crackling grotesquely.
As its bizarre body contorted to stand upright, its ribs rippled unnaturally, as if they could move of their own accord.
Its eyeless face looked up, as if toward the stormy sky, its hideous mouth gaping open as pincerlike teeth clawed at the air.
Slowly, I moved my weapon into position.
“Oh, God...” Her voice contorted with terror. It was not the beast’s usual monotone mimicry. It sounded far too real. “Where are you?”
Dropping the flashlight, I snapped my hand up to brace my weapon and fire. It couldn’t have taken more than a second, but my bullet shot through open air, finding no target.
“Shit!” I sprinted for the stairway, but abruptly stopped myself. There was only one way down, and the door up there wouldn’t hold forever. With only a flashlight and limited bullets in a confined space, I was as good as dead if I climbed the tower again.
Snap.
The angel charged for me, loping through the snow with terrifying ease.
It rammed into the stairway railing, splintering the wood as its claws tore through the back of my jacket.
I tumbled, desperately clinging to my weapon, and scrambled to my feet just in time to fire off another bullet as it leapt at me again.
It screeched as the shot pierced its chest, reeling backwards and swiping at the wound.
There was no time to aim. There was no other choice.
I sprinted for the ATV. Close behind, the angel screamed my name as I turned the key and pressed the ignition, hoping frantically that the old engine wouldn’t fail me. It roared to life, and I pressed the throttle, snow spewing from beneath my tires as I sped off into the darkness.