“Move!” I cried.
I grabbed hold of the plywood and lifted my mom swiftly off the bed. Abby was sobbing as she grabbed the other end. “Hurry Abby, hurry.” The tears streaking down her face cleansed some of the blood that had sprayed over her. “Go,” I urged.
Abby choked on her sobs as she moved toward the door. My arms were already aching from the weight of the plywood, and our mother. We couldn’t move fast enough, couldn’t get out of this room in time. I found myself wordlessly praying, desperate to run, desperate to move faster. Desperate to survive as all of my survival instincts kicked into high gear and the fight or flight response consumed me.
“Bethany,” Abby moaned.
She was near the door, almost completely out of it, but I wasn't close enough. I wasn’t nearly close enough, and Abby could see those things. She knew where they were, I didn’t. “I’m sorry,” I breathed.
She opened her mouth to say something but I shoved forward, thrusting the plywood, and our mother, forcefully at her. Abby cried out in and staggered into the hall before she disappeared beneath the weight of the plywood, and our mother’s frozen form. I dove through the door, rolling as I dodged the snapping tentacles close on my heels.
CHAPTER 8
I scrambled back over top of the plywood, not feeling at all sorry when I knocked my immobile mother out of the way. I was pretty sure she would forgive me, and understand. I lunged forward and grabbed the bottom of the bedroom door as one of those things rushed at me with deadly purpose. I ripped the door toward me, slamming it shut with a resounding thud that echoed throughout the house.
I fell back, my rapid pants loud in my ears as I tried to catch my breath. One of the things slammed into the door, rattling it in its frame. The old wood held up beneath the onslaught. For now, anyway. “Abby get up! Abby up, up!”
Abby was trying to get to her feet, but she struggled beneath the weight of the plywood lying half on top of her. I tugged impatiently at it as I helped to pull it off of her. The things were banging against the door with more urgency now. They would break through it soon enough. Finally freeing Abby, I threw the plywood back down and began to awkwardly roll our mom onto it.
“Bethany,” Abby whispered. “Bethany, we have to go.”
“I know, I know,” I replied impatiently as I finally managed to shove my mom haphazardly onto the wood. Light suddenly filled the upper hallway. The hair on the nape of my neck stood on end as I lifted my head. The window at the end of the hall was now ablaze, the room behind me had become eerily silent. “Oh.”
Abby grasped hold of my arm, her grip bruising and harsh. “Bethy.”
I rose slowly, my heart hammering, and my whole body trembling. “Get the other end of the plywood Abby.”
“Bethy…”
“Now Abby, get it now!”
She released me and crawled to the other end of the board. It wasn't the beams blazing in on us that unnerved me most, but the sudden, ensuing, horrendous quiet. The only sound was the faint scrape of Abby’s shoe against the floor as she bent to pick up the other side.
They were toying with us, and they were enjoying every minute of it. For the first time I became certain that we wouldn't escape this, that we wouldn't make it of this house. I ignored the bite the weight of the plywood caused my injured palms as I gripped it firmly. Shuffling forward, I kicked aside the broken bits of the table I had knocked over earlier. There may be no chance that we were going to escape this, but I wasn't going to give up easily.
“Go Abby.” Her deep brown eyes rolled toward me as she stared at me with a trembling bottom lip. “Move.”
Abby kept her eyes on the window, but she began to edge her way down the hall toward the stairs. There was no sound as she turned into the stairwell and made her way backwards down the steps. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she didn't complain and she didn't cry. She made it to the bottom of the stairs and turned the corner. Light was still blazing through the windows, illuminating our way as we shuffled through the downstairs hallway.
“What are they doing?” Abby whispered. I shook my head; I had no answer for that. “They’re going to kill us.”
I agreed. I just wasn’t going to tell her that. We were almost to the kitchen when the backdoor flew open. I accidently slammed the board into Abby, nearly knocking her over, as she stopped abruptly. My heart lurched in my chest, my throat went instantly dry. I was certain that this was the end, we were going to die. I wanted to grab Abby and shove her behind me to try and keep her safe, but I couldn’t reach her with the plywood between us.
Someone stepped into the kitchen. I blinked rapidly, trying to get my eyes to focus on the person that was highlighted by the harsh glow of light. Abby was shaking so severely that the board was rattling. Was it one of the aliens? Had they actually come down in order to start retrieving us? “Abby?”
“Aiden?” she croaked. My whole body sagged with relief. “Aiden?”
He stepped further into the room, coming into better view as he moved. “Mom?” he whispered.
“You shouldn’t have come Aiden,” I breathed. Heartbreak filled me as I realized that he was now trapped with us.
“Bethany…”
“You shouldn’t have come Aiden,” I repeated fighting to get the words out around the lump of tears clogging my throat.
“I had to.”
“We’re going to die.”
I had feared that it might be true, but saying the words aloud made it a completely devastating reality. It was true. The three of us wouldn't make it out of this house alive. “Bethy…”
My gaze slid past Aiden, my heart plummeted even further as Bret stepped into the room behind him. “Oh Bret,” I whispered, despair filling me. Not Bret too, I didn’t think I could handle it. He was a part of our family; he was a part of me. He was Aiden’s best friend, Abby’s second brother, and he was here because he loved me with everything he had. He was going to die because of me, and I had kissed another man just an hour ago. I had never hated myself more. “You shouldn’t have come.”
He frowned at me as his head tilted to the side. Like Aiden and I, he was fair, but his hair was a darker blond than ours. “I had to,” he said simply, and it was that simple for him. The acid in my stomach churned like I'd just eaten bad chicken. Guilt churned within me as self hatred swamped me. I was suddenly grateful that I wouldn't have much longer to despise myself.