Kael stood by the living room window, the knife still in his hand, his fingers slick with sweat. Rain pounded the roof, a steady drumming that filled the silence inside the house. Marla held the flashlight, its beam pointed at the floor, casting long shadows across the worn carpet.
Outside, the neighbor's yard was a tangle of bushes and wet grass, but the small shapes he'd seen darting around were gone. The street sat quiet now, except for the faint hum of a car alarm three blocks away, its sound dulled by the rain.
Marla stepped closer to him, her slippers scuffing the floor. "Kael, talk to me. What did you see out there?" Her voice was steady, but her free hand gripped the edge of her robe. He turned his head slightly, keeping his eyes on the window.
"I don't know. Things. They came out of the air, like it ripped open. Small, fast and with claws." He swallowed, his mouth dry. "They were all over the street."
She frowned, lines deepening around her eyes. "Animals? Like dogs?"
"No. Not dogs." He shifted his weight, the damp hoodie sticking to his back. "They didn't bark or growl. They just moved. Too many of them."
Marla clicked off the flashlight and set it on the coffee table, plunging the room into near darkness. Only the faint glow of streetlights filtered through the blinds. "Power's been out twenty minutes. Phone's dead too. No signal, no internet." She crossed her arms. "We need to figure out what's happening."
Kael nodded, though he had no plan. He moved to the front door, double-checked the lock, and pressed his ear against the wood. Nothing but rain and wind. He stepped back, then grabbed the edge of the couch. "Help me move this."
They shoved the couch across the room, its legs scraping the floor, until it blocked the door. The cushions sagged under a pile of old magazines Marla hadn't thrown out. She grabbed a dining chair next, and Kael helped her wedge it under the doorknob. It wasn't much, but it felt better than standing still.
He went to the kitchen, opened a drawer, and pulled out a second flashlight, a heavy one with a rubber grip. He clicked it on, sweeping the beam across the counter. Dirty dishes sat in the sink, a fork crusted with meatloaf. He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, still cold despite the outage and took a long drink. Marla followed him, leaning against the doorway.
"Radio in the van was saying to stay inside," he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "Something about avoiding contact. Then it cut out."
She nodded slowly. "Okay. We stay put and wait it out. Whatever's out there, it's not our problem."
A sharp crack split the air outside, loud enough to make Kael flinch. It came from the backyard. He swung the flashlight toward the sliding glass door off the kitchen. The glass reflected the beam, showing only the table and chairs on the small concrete patio. Beyond that, the yard stretched into darkness, fenced on three sides by chain-link.
Marla grabbed the flashlight from the coffee table and joined him. "What was that?"
"Don't know." He slid the knife into his belt loop, keeping the heavier flashlight in his hand. He unlocked the glass door, eased it open an inch, and listened. Rain splattered the patio, pooling in the uneven spots. Then he heard it: a low, wet gurgle, like water bubbling through a clogged pipe. It came from the far corner of the yard, near the shed. He opened the door wider, stepping onto the patio.
Cold rain hit his face, soaking his hair. Marla stayed inside, her light trained on the shed. The beam caught a shape crouched near the wooden wall; a creature, bigger than the ones he'd seen on the street. It was the size of a pit bull, its body hunched and slick with black skin. Spines jutted from its back, quivering as it moved. It pawed at the ground, tearing up clumps of mud and grass.
Kael froze, his breath shallow. The creature's head snapped up, revealing a face with no eyes, just a wide slit of a mouth lined with Serrated teeth. It gurgled again, louder, and lurched toward him, its claws sinking into the wet earth.
"Get back!" Marla yelled. She yanked him inside by the arm, slamming the door shut. The creature hit the glass a second later, its body thudding against it. The door rattled but held. It clawed at the surface, leaving streaks of mud and scratches, then backed off, circling the patio.
Kael stumbled to the counter, grabbed a cast-iron skillet from the stove, and gripped it with both hands. His heart pounded in his ears. The creature lunged again, smacking the glass harder. A thin crack spiderwebbed across the bottom corner. Marla shoved the kitchen table against the door, her flashlight clattering to the floor. "Hit it if it gets in," she said, breathless, picking up a rolling pin from the counter.
The creature stopped, tilting its head as if listening. Then it turned and bolted toward the shed, disappearing behind it. Kael lowered the skillet, his arms shaking. He stepped closer to the glass, peering out. The rain washed away the mud streaks, leaving only the scratches.
Something glinted in the grass where the creature had been pawing; a small round object, no bigger than a golf ball. It glowed faintly, a dull orange, pulsing like a dying ember. Kael squinted, unsure if it was real or a trick of the light. Before he could say anything, a second gurgle sounded from the shed, followed by the scrape of claws on wood. Marla grabbed his shoulder. "Leave it. We're not going out there."
He nodded, stepping back. They dragged the fridge in front of the glass door, its weight scraping the tile. The gurgling faded, swallowed by the rain. Kael kept the skillet close, his eyes locked on the yard, waiting for the next sound.