Chapter 6 - Darkness Descends
The hum of the refrigerators died instantly. The only light left in the diner was the pale, ghostly blue reflection of the blizzard bouncing through the windows, and the dull yellow glow from the emergency exit sign over the back door.
“Power’s out,” one of the truckers announced, standing up and pulling out a small pocket flashlight. “Transformer must’ve blown down by the crossroads.”
Outside, through the frosted glass, I looked toward the far corner of the parking lot where Marcus’s rusted truck had been idling.
The headlights were off. The truck was empty.
My pulse spiked, tactical instincts overriding the stillness of the room. A blown transformer during a storm was normal, but Marcus knew the layout of this town, and a predator doesn't sit patiently in the cold when the darkness gives him cover.
“Martha,” I whispered, keeping my voice calm but sharp. “Does the back kitchen have an exterior door?”
“Yes,” the old woman said, her voice shaking slightly as she lit a thick wax candle behind the counter. “Leads right to the alley where the trash bins are.”
“Is it locked?”
“Deadbolted from the inside.”
Rex suddenly rose from beneath the table. He didn't look at the front entrance this time. He spun toward the swinging kitchen doors, his neck fur standing completely on end, his body low in a combat stalk.
A dull metallic *click* echoed from the back of the building.
The back door hadn't been kicked; someone had used a crowbar on the strike plate. In a town this small, back doors on old diners rarely had reinforced steel jambs.
“He’s inside,” I said, reaching over and lifting Lena out of the booth by her waist.
“Daniel!” she gasped, her hands gripping my shoulders.
“Shh. Quiet.” I set her gently behind the thick oak counter, out of the line of sight from both the kitchen and the main dining floor. “Stay low. Don't make a sound. If anything happens, Martha has a radio and a shotgun. You stay right here.”
“Take Rex with you,” Lena whispered, her eyes wide with terror.
“No. Rex stays with you. *Bleib*,” I commanded in German.
Rex stopped, turning his amber eyes on me, understanding the command instantly. He positioned his massive frame directly over Lena’s legs behind the counter, a silent, furry fortress. He would not leave her side unless I gave the release word.
May you like
I reached behind my back. Under my flannel shirt, nestled against the small of my back in an inside-the-waistband holster, was my SIG Sauer P320. I had carried it every day since leaving the Corps. I drew it smoothly, racking the slide back just enough to confirm a round was chambered, before letting it settle silently into battery.
I moved toward the kitchen doors like a ghost, keeping my boots flat on the floor, sliding through the shadows toward the smell of frying grease and cold winter air.
