Werewolf Suspense (Book 4): Outage 4 (The Reckoning) Read Free Page A

surprised we never ran into each other."
    "We probably have. Who knows, it's a small town." Tom shrugged as he scanned the hallway. "Well, I should probably get back to my room before the nurses get after me."
    "I appreciate you checking on us," Abraham said gratefully.
    "You got it."
    Tom turned around. He exhaled as he thought about the children, whose parents had most likely been killed. It was nice of Abraham and Sally to look after them. But who would look after the children when things settled?
    He'd only gone a few feet when a faint cry sounded from somewhere on the floor.
    Startled, Tom ground to a halt. He listened, but the hallway was quiet, save some beeps and muffled conversation. For a second, he wondered if he was flashing back to the incidents he'd lived through, or if his pain medication was too strong. It wasn't until Abraham came out of the doorway that he believed the sound was real.  
    "What was that?" Abraham hissed.
    "I'm not sure."
    They stood rigidly in place, their attention roaming the hall. The cry came again.
    Louder.
    Adrenaline flowing, Tom and Abraham started toward the source of the noise. It was coming from the wing where Tom's room was located. They rounded the corner, listening to the cry increase in volume. They passed by the elevators where Tom had seen Officer Dickson, then a few open rooms, staring at the glowing exit sign at the far end of the hallway. The exit door was closed. The noise sounded like it was coming from a room about halfway down the corridor.
    Several frightened occupants glared at Tom and Abraham from their beds, startled awake. They watched Tom and Abraham as if they might know what was going on. Tom continued without a word.
    The cry made his heart pound in his chest.
    "It's definitely coming from that room down there," Abraham said, pointing.  
    Common sense kicking in, Tom halted. He patted his loose hospital gown. He had no weapons. The police had his ammunition from the KOC, though he didn't see any officers nearby. Where was Officer Dickson?
    He went down in the elevator.
    For a moment, Tom considered searching for the officer, but someone might need help now , and he didn't see any nurses.
    Tom and Abraham crept closer to the doorway, straining to make out the interior. Tom saw the room a section at a time: the walls, the television, the cabinets, the bed. A man was sitting at the edge of his mattress with his back turned. He covered his face with his hands, shaking.
    "Is he alone?" Abraham hissed.
    "I don't see anyone else," Tom whispered.
    Tom relaxed, but not by much. They took a few more cautious steps, confirming the man wasn't with anyone—or any thing —else. It wasn't until they were closer that Tom realized the man's cries weren't sounds of pain, but moans of grief. The fear in Tom's stomach settled.
    "Sir, are you all right?" Tom called into the room.
    The man stopped shaking, but he remained in place. He kept his back to them. After a few seconds, he dropped his hands to his side and looked over his shoulder. He was in his forties, with a day's worth of patchy beard and shaggy, greasy hair. His face was streaked with tears, his eyes bloodshot. He wore a hospital gown, like Tom's.
    "They're gone," he moaned. "My whole family…my wife, my son… They're all dead."
    Tom noticed the rumpled sheets. The man must've woken up and recalled what had happened. Tom felt a stab of sympathy. No consolation would mend the man's wounds. He knew that all too well.
    "I can't believe it's real," the man grieved.
    "I understand," Tom tried, crossing the room and sitting on the bed next to him. "We've all lost someone."
    "Why did I survive?" He buried his face in his hands again, sobbing. "Why did I live, and not them?" He shook his head back and forth, refusing to accept reality.
    Abraham joined them, sitting on the other side, studying the man with a grim expression.  
    "What's your name?" Abraham asked.
    "Louis. Louis Hartwell."
    "I'm sorry to hear about your