The Shuddering

their perimeter, they get aggressive. Especially if something gets close to their den. Maybe someone was close to a cave or something, the storm came in, these things didn’t have anything to eat so they just kept coming closer and closer to civilization. But what I don’t get is, why haven’t there been reports of dead people all over the place? I mean, that would make sense, right? If they’re taking everyone in their perimeter out?”
    They were pack animals, that was for sure; the way they had swarmed around Lauren had made that clear. Maybe the one on the deck had been scoping them out. Ryan shuddered beneath his sweatshirt.
    They went quiet again, the fire licking at the sides of the fireplace. One of the logs popped and they all jumped. A spark flew onto the carpet. It glowed for a few seconds, then faded out.
    “What if they haven’t found any bodies because there haven’t been any?” Jane asked after a long while.
    “What about the skiers?” Sawyer asked.
    “Maybe they got spooked and ran away.” She went quiet for a moment, then lifted her head again as if in revelation. “That’s why they’re here,” she whispered, her eyes going glassy. “When there’s a storm like this, animals go into hiding. They’re harder to find. And if that’s what these things eat…deer and elk…” Her words faded.
    “They’re searching for food,” Sawyer finished her train of thought.
    A chill crawled up Ryan’s spine. It made sense, and at this point it was the only thing that did.
    “They’re hungry,” she said. “And we’re the only prey they can find.”
    They tried to stay awake, tried to formulate a plan, but exhaustion gave way to hours of quiet. Trying to keep herself from falling asleep during her watch, Jane left the boys dozing in the living room and dared to venture into the kitchen. With the flame of an emergency candle guiding her way, she went through the motions of making coffee—filling the pot, stuffing a filter into the maker’s basket, adding five scoops of Folgers before hitting the power button. She blinked at the machine when the power light didn’t comeon, convinced for a good five seconds that the stupid thing had died before rolling her eyes at herself. The routine was so ingrained in her blood that even an emergency candle did little to remind her that this darkness was involuntary. Exhaling a sigh, she settled on three glasses of water instead, returning to the living room a minute later, the candle precariously tucked into the crook of her elbow. Her father’s Ginsu knives glittered in the firelight, all lying next to the revolver she had brought from upstairs. Ryan had shoved the pool cues under the coffee table, a few of them sharpened to deadly points, the rest awaiting honing just as soon as Ryan’s watch began.
    She set the glasses on the coffee table and moved back into the kitchen, pulling open the fridge’s door. It was cold inside the house, but not cold enough to keep the food from spoiling. The unit harbored the dank scent of a refrigerator getting warmer by the minute. Grabbing the cake stand by its footed bottom, she pulled plates out of a cabinet and forks out of a drawer. Ryan still had half an hour to sleep before his shift, but he’d be hungry. None of them had eaten since that morning, and they had to keep their energy up. It was what Jane had put herself in charge of—making sure they were fed, rested, and ready when the guys decided it was time to go.
    Sawyer stirred next to the fire when he heard her return. Oona’s ears perked but she remained motionless, her head resting on Ryan’s leg. Ryan was fast asleep under a blanket that had been draped across the back of one of the sofas, the hood of his sweatshirt pulled over his head, his back to the room.
    Sawyer sat up and stretched with a wince.
    Jane selected one of the knives on the coffee table, cutting into leftover cake. She offered Sawyer a plate with a halfhearted shrug.
    “Thanks,” he said, taking it from her.
    “Kind of inappropriate,” she said. “But we have to eat.”
    “Hey, I’ll eat chocolate cake in any situation,” Sawyer told her. He made an attempt to smile, but it vanished before it fully formed. Optimism was what would keep them afloat. She was trying to convince herself that if they made it through the night they’d be home free, but even if they made it through to morning, she could only imagine how much snow had fallen in the past twelve hours. It had been