The Dark Ones by Anthony Izzo

asked.
    “What are you doing up?”
    “I could ask you the same question.”
    Something had awoken her, for she wore a short white robe and her feet were bare. Sara didn’t like the fact that she was looking out the window in the middle of the night.
    “So?” Sara said.
    “I heard something out back. Probably just coons, but we had a black bear up here a few years ago.”
    Sara joined her at the sink. She peered into the yard and looked at the woods. Nothing moved, save for maple branches in the wind.
    “What did it sound like?”
    “Grunting. Whispering. Like an animal, but not. Does that make sense?”
    “We’d better get upstairs. Are your doors locked?” Sara asked.
    “They are, but it’s probably just a coon, or maybe a coyote. But that whispering.” She scratched her head.
    Sara grasped Joanne’s arm. Joanne gave her a puzzled look, her hair frizzy and sticking up in three places. “Don’t worry, hon. We’re crime free up here.”
    It wasn’t criminals Sara was worried about. What if they had tracked her here?
    “We should go upstairs, call for help,” Sara said.
    “To arrest some raccoons?”
    “I think it’s more than raccoons.”
    A thud-clang came from the rear of the house, and Sara flinched. Joanne didn’t move, standing like a sentry at the window. She peered out again and this time instead of blaming the noises on raccoons, she gasped. The sound took the heart out of Sara and she was almost afraid to breathe.
    “What is it?”
    “Something moved around the side of the house. A man. We need to call the police.”
    “How close are they?”
    “There’s a state police barracks about fifteen miles from here.”
    That was not close enough, and the police might be helpless when they arrived, anyway.
    “Get to the garage,” Sara said. “Are your keys still on the counter?”
    A loud thump came from the front of the house.
    “Yeah. I have a gun upstairs. I’m going to try for it.”
    A gun might be as useful as a windbreaker in a hurricane. Besides, if they were surrounding the house, the two women would not have much time to beat it down the hill. “To the car, now.”
    “I’m trying for the gun.”
    Sara tugged on Joanne’s robe, but the taller woman slipped away and urged Sara to follow her. She crossed the family room and took the stairs three at a time. Sara stopped at the bottom of the steps. Outside, she heard scraping noises, like tacks across a tin can. They were closing in and where was Joanne?
    Another thump, this one against the front door.
    An eternity seemed to pass, but in reality was probably no more than five minutes.
    She waited. Deformed shadows danced across the front windows and she decided to scoot up the stairs, not wanting to remain alone. The whole time she climbed the stairs, she half expected someone to grab her from behind. She would feel a cold hand on her leg as she was dragged away screaming.
    She entered the master bedroom to find Joanne sitting on the bed and fumbling to load shells into a revolver. Hands shaking, the woman loaded the last shell and clicked the cylinder home.
    Downstairs, the front door gave with a thunderous crack and the wind whistled inside. The sound of a guttural voice speaking in a strange tongue drifted up the stairs. It sounded the way a man with a cut throat might speak.
    Not wanting to be left without any clothes, Sara grabbed her duffel bag and rejoined Joanne.
    Joanne slowly rose from the bed and motioned for Sara to get behind her. Sara did, feeling somewhat safe behind the taller woman and safer still because of the revolver. Whether it was because it could inflict real damage or due to the some weird talismanic power, she didn’t know.
    “We have to get to the garage,” Sara whispered.
    Joanne nodded. “If I can make my legs move.”
    Joanne managed to make them move and the two of them crept across the bedroom to the hallway. Sara didn’t hear the voice, but the wind still barreled through the open door.
    They