The Shuddering

of horror.
    “And their teeth…”
    “Their teeth,” Jane whispered, her bottom lip trembling at their mere mention.
    Ryan fell silent, staring at the floor, seemingly overwhelmed by his own description, as though listing off their traits somehow solidified that the things he had seen outside were real.
    Finally, Jane spoke into the quiet.
    “So it’s true, then… We are going to die.”
    Sawyer watched Ryan ease the pantry door open a crack while he pulled Jane into the farthest corner of the storage room. He stood in front of her like a sentinel, feeling her breath hot against the back of his neck as she jabbed her fingers through the belt loops of his jeans. Had it been any other time, he would have savored being so close, but his attention was on Oona, on thoughts of getting to April. The husky stuck her snout against the crack of the door.
    Ryan shot a wary glance over his shoulder. Sawyer could see it in the way he was clinging to Oona’s fur—he was preparing himself for the worst. If the coast was clear, Oona would come get them without incident. If the creatures had somehow gotten inside the house—climbed through broken windows, scavenging for food—she wouldn’t come back at all. Leaning in, Ryan pulled the dog into his arms, momentarily burying his face in her neck. A second later he pulled the door open and let her scramble into the kitchen, allowing her to escape without giving himself enough time to reconsider.
    They waited in a silence so oppressive Sawyer had to concentrate on breathing just to get enough air. He was anticipating a terrible yelp, a crash of pots and pans against the floor, a window breaking, or that god-awful clacking of monstrous teeth. His arms broke out in gooseflesh as he pictured one of those creatures catching Oona in its jaws, shaking her like a dog shakes a toy.
    Jane moved behind him, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. He glanced back at her and she gave him an embarrassed look.
    “I need to go,” she whispered.
    Sawyer nodded in mute understanding and turned his attention back to Ryan, still crouched beside the door, waiting for his beloved pet to return with good news. Sawyer swallowed againstthe lump in his throat, the backs of his eyes suddenly burning at the flash of a childhood memory: crawling into the backseat of a car, needing to pee five minutes later. It was something he’d never get to experience as a father—the frustration, the annoyance, the amusement of a little boy who looked just like him, or a little girl who looked just like April, begging him to pull over. There would be no trips to the toy store, no birthday parties at Chuck E. Cheese’s. He would never get to freeze in the late-October cold, standing on a sidewalk just beyond a stranger’s front door, watching his kid trudge up the front steps, a plastic pumpkin floating just inches from the ground. He wouldn’t get the opportunity to pull into a McDonald’s drive-through and buy a Happy Meal—a secret he and his mini-me would keep from Mom. And the old Fraggle Rock episodes he had started collecting the day after April had given him the news—he’d never watch those now, his arm around a little kid, a bowl of popcorn between them both, because Ryan was right—the odds that April was still alive out there were slim to none.
    Just when he felt like he was about to lose it, Oona stuck her snout into the crack of the door and blew air through her nose.
    “Thank god,” Ryan said, letting the pantry door swing wide, both hands plunging into Oona’s fur. “Good girl.”
    “Can I go?” Jane asked from behind Sawyer’s shoulder.
    Sawyer nodded and stepped aside, and Jane slunk out of the pantry, wary as she disappeared down the hall. He followed Ryan into the kitchen, looking around the place for signs of anything strange, but the cabin appeared untouched—just as they had left it about an hour earlier. If they hadn’t known any better, it would have been easy to pretend nothing had happened. The only difference between now and then was that it was snowing again, big fluffy flakes the size of silver dollars falling from the sky.
    And Lauren and April were gone.
    Sawyer approached the kitchen door, his fingers pressing to the glass, feeling the cold it was holding back. If those savages hadn’t gotten to April yet, the cold would have done her in hours ago. He told himself that she was dead, that she had to be dead, because the idea of her still being alive out