The morning after the avalanche, everything was eerily still. The mansion was surrounded by thick walls of snow, nearly reaching the second-floor windows, and there was no way to tell what time of day it was by looking outside. The world was a featureless sea of white, with only the faintest hint of light breaking through the swirling clouds. George rubbed his hands together, his breath visible in the frosty air even inside the house. They had survived the night, but the blizzard was far from over.
The group gathered around the fire, everyone bundled up in whatever they could find, trying to stave off the creeping cold that had already infiltrated the mansion.
"We need to figure something out," Raven muttered, pulling her jacket tighter around her. "The fire's barely doing anything anymore, and it feels like the temperature's dropping by the minute."
"We're not going to last long if this keeps up," George agreed, his voice low. He glanced out the window, though all he could see was snow piled against the glass. "We're completely snowed in."
Marcy, sitting by the fire with her cup of tea, nodded grimly. "It's worse than I thought. If we don't start rationing our food and fuel, we'll run out before the storm passes."
"Not to mention the wood," Elijah added, looking at the rapidly dwindling pile beside the fireplace. "We need to start gathering more before it's too late."
The mood in the room was tense. The weight of the situation was pressing down on everyone, and the relentless cold only made it worse. George could see the worry etched on everyone's faces, Marcy's concern for the younger ones, Raven's determined frown, and Lucy's restless pacing. Even Bear seemed uneasy, whining softly as he lay by the fire, his nose tucked under his paws.
George stood, shaking the stiffness from his limbs. "We need to figure out a way to survive the next few days. Raven, Lucy, and I will head out and gather more wood. Everyone else, stay inside and make sure the fire keeps going."
As they bundled up and prepared to face the storm, Grace suddenly spoke up, her voice quiet but filled with dread. "There's something else out there."
The group turned to her, confused.
"I've heard those sounds before," Grace whispered, her eyes wide and fearful. "When I was with my father... he used to tell me about the demons that lived in the storm."
George raised an eyebrow. "Demons?"
Grace nodded, her voice trembling. "He said they were ancient, older than the world itself. He said they rode in on storms like this one, bringing death and destruction. I didn't believe him back then... but now..."
The room fell silent, her words hanging in the cold air like a specter. George wasn't sure if he believed in ancient demons, but after everything they had seen, he wasn't ready to dismiss it outright either.
"We'll keep an eye out," he said, trying to reassure her. "But right now, we need to focus on getting more firewood."
The cold hit George like a punch to the gut the moment he stepped outside. The wind howled around them, carrying with it a biting chill that cut straight through his layers of clothing. The snow was waist-deep, and every step felt like wading through quicksand. Raven and Lucy followed close behind, their faces red from the cold, their breaths coming out in visible puffs.
The mansion loomed behind them, its windows frosted over, and George couldn't help but feel like they were walking into a frozen wasteland. The trees, once full of life, were now bent and brittle under the weight of the snow. The world around them was unnaturally still, save for the howling wind.
They reached the woodpile near the tree line and immediately got to work, chopping logs and stacking them as quickly as they could. But even as they worked, George couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them. Every few minutes, he would glance over his shoulder, half-expecting to see something lurking in the shadows.
"What's with you?" Lucy asked, noticing his nervous glances. "You've been acting weird since we got out here."
"I don't know," George admitted, his voice barely audible over the wind. "Something just doesn't feel right."
Raven stopped chopping for a moment and looked around, her brow furrowed. "You feel it too?"
Lucy rolled her eyes, trying to brush off their concerns. "Come on, guys, it's just the storm. We've been cooped up inside for too long. Let's just get this done and get back before we freeze."
But as they continued gathering wood, the unsettling feeling grew stronger. The wind seemed to carry faint whispers, and the air felt charged with something... unnatural.
Suddenly, Lucy froze, her eyes locked on a spot further into the forest. "What the hell is that?"
George and Raven turned, following her gaze. At first, George didn't see anything, but then... there it was. Movement. Slow, deliberate movement through the trees. Large, hulking shapes moving too fluidly to be just snow or debris.
And then they heard it.
The most horrifying, high-pitched shriek George had ever heard. It wasn't just loud, it was the kind of sound that burrowed into your skull, rattling your brain and freezing your heart. It was the sound of pure terror, primal and unnatural. It echoed through the trees, cutting through the wind like a razor. George's blood ran cold, and for a split second, he thought his heart might stop from the sheer terror of it.
"What the, " Lucy started, but another shriek interrupted her, louder this time.
Raven grabbed George's arm. "We need to go. Now."
They didn't wait to hear another shriek. The three of them abandoned the woodpile and began trudging back toward the mansion as fast as they could, their hearts racing and their breaths coming in ragged gasps. But the shrieks followed them, growing louder and closer with every step.
And then, through the swirling snow, George saw them.
The frozen corpses. Bodies from the avalanche, refugees who had been caught in the storm, were slowly rising from the snow, their skin covered in frost, their eyes glowing an icy blue. The corpses moved with an unnatural jerking motion, their limbs stiff from the cold but still capable of terrifying speed.
The sight of them sent a wave of nausea through George. These weren't normal zombies. They were something much worse.
One of the corpses opened its mouth, and another bone-chilling shriek tore through the air, making George's ears ring.
"Run!" Raven shouted, and the three of them broke into a sprint.
George's heart pounded in his chest as they raced back toward the mansion, the frozen corpses closing in behind them. He could hear the soft thud of their boots sinking into the snow with every step, but it was drowned out by the constant, horrifying shrieks that followed them like a deathly wail.
"They're catching up!" Lucy yelled, glancing over her shoulder at the horde of frozen zombies that moved with a terrifying speed through the snow.
George didn't need to look back. He could feel them getting closer, the air around them growing colder with every passing second. His lungs burned from the freezing air, but he pushed on, desperate to reach the safety of the mansion.
Raven reached the back door first, throwing it open as George and Lucy stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind them. They leaned against the door, panting, as the shrieks continued outside, louder than ever.
"We need to barricade this!" Raven said, her voice sharp as she grabbed a nearby chair and wedged it against the door.
George nodded, his mind racing as he glanced around for anything else they could use. But the moment of calm was shattered by the sound of something smashing against the window. One of the frozen corpses had reached the mansion, its icy blue eyes glaring in at them, its teeth bared in a grotesque grin.
"They're going to break through!" Raven shouted, her voice filled with urgency.
George wasted no time. "Upstairs! We'll have a better angle from the second-floor windows!"
The three of them sprinted up the stairs, nearly tripping over one another in their rush to get to the upper level. They could hear the chilling high-pitched shrieks of the frozen zombies echoing from outside, the sound so terrifying it made their hearts race uncontrollably. It wasn't just the cold anymore, it was the primal fear that came with those unnatural, soul-piercing screams.
Marcy and the others were already upstairs, standing by the windows and trying to get a clear view of the advancing horde. The frozen corpses, with their glowing blue eyes, were climbing the walls, their icy hands digging into the stone and wood, pulling themselves upward with unnatural strength.
"They're climbing!" Lucy exclaimed, grabbing her flamethrower and aiming at one of the windows.
Marcy, ever resourceful, held up a glass bottle stuffed with a rag. "I found some leftover booze in the cellar. Thought I'd make a few Molotovs."
George blinked at her, impressed. "You're a damn genius, Marcy."
She gave him a grim smile. "Let's just hope it works."
With the sounds of glass breaking and zombies clawing at the walls, Marcy lit the rag, took a deep breath, and threw the Molotov cocktail out the window. It shattered on impact, bursting into flames and setting several of the climbing corpses ablaze. The fire crackled and hissed, and the zombies let out an ear-splitting shriek as the flames consumed them.
"That'll slow them down," Marcy muttered, already preparing another one.
From their vantage point on the second floor, George, Raven, and Lucy had a clearer view of the chaos unfolding outside. The frozen corpses were swarming the mansion, their glowing eyes a sinister reflection of the storm's dark magic. The snow was piled so high around the house that some of the zombies were able to use it to reach the roof, clawing their way toward the upper windows.
"Get ready!" George shouted, aiming his rifle at one of the windows. "They're almost inside!"
Lucy positioned herself by the window, flamethrower at the ready. The moment one of the zombies smashed through the glass, she unleashed a blast of fire, the heat momentarily warming the freezing room. The zombie let out a blood-curdling shriek as it was engulfed in flames, flailing wildly before it fell back into the snow.
"We've got more coming!" Raven yelled, pointing toward the roof, where several more frozen corpses were climbing up the side of the house. They were relentless, their icy fingers clawing at the walls with unnatural strength. One of them grabbed the ledge of the window, pulling itself up, its glowing eyes locking onto George.
"Not today!" George shouted, firing a shot from his rifle. The bullet hit the zombie in the head, but it barely slowed down. The only thing that seemed to stop them was fire.
"Flamethrowers and Molotovs!" George ordered, grabbing a bottle from Marcy and lighting it.
As another frozen corpse climbed up the side of the house, George threw the Molotov cocktail directly at it. The bottle shattered, and the flames roared to life, swallowing the zombie in a blaze of fire. The creature's screams echoed through the storm, its icy body melting as the fire consumed it.
But for every one they took down, more seemed to appear. The horde was endless, and the storm's icy wind carried the haunting shrieks of the undead, sending chills down their spines. The cold was so intense that even with the fire roaring inside, the heat barely reached them.
"George, they're everywhere!" Lucy called out, her voice shaking as she fired another burst of flame through the window.
"I know!" George shouted back, throwing another Molotov out the window and watching as it exploded in a burst of fiery destruction.
They fought with everything they had, but the frozen zombies were relentless. The group retreated further into the mansion, sealing off as many doors and windows as they could. Marcy kept making Molotovs, throwing them with precision and setting more of the creatures ablaze. The air outside was thick with smoke and ash, but still, the horde kept coming.
George, panting heavily, turned to Raven. "How many more of these things are there?"
"I don't know, but we can't keep this up forever!" Raven replied, her eyes wide with fear and determination.
Suddenly, the house shook, and a deafening crash echoed from below. One of the zombies had broken through a barricaded window downstairs. George's heart raced as he realized that they were running out of time. They couldn't hold off the horde forever, and the mansion was quickly becoming overrun.
"We need a plan!" Marcy shouted over the chaos, tossing another Molotov.
"We can't just stay up here!" Lucy added, torching another zombie.
George's mind raced. They had to act fast, or they'd all be overwhelmed. He took a deep breath, wiping sweat and snow from his brow, his mind scrambling for a solution. The storm outside wasn't just bringing snow, it was bringing death. They had to stop the wave of frozen corpses, or the mansion, and everyone inside it, would be lost.
"Form a firing squad," George barked. "Tobias, Elijah, Thomas, cover the girls. We'll hold them back long enough for them to burn these bastards."
The men sprang into action, quickly taking positions by the second-floor windows. They were armed with rifles, their hands shaking from both the cold and adrenaline. George's heart pounded in his chest as he raised his rifle, the feel of the icy metal heavy in his grip. The sight outside was pure chaos, dozens of frozen corpses with glowing blue eyes, clawing their way up the walls, their eerie shrieks filling the air.
"Take aim!" George shouted, the sound of the wind nearly drowning out his voice. "Fire!"
The crack of gunfire echoed through the mansion as George, Tobias, Elijah, and Thomas opened fire. Bullets pierced the icy flesh of the zombies, but they barely slowed down. Some of them fell, only to rise again moments later, their movements even more erratic and violent than before.
"They're not staying down!" Elijah called out, his voice strained as he reloaded his rifle.
"Doesn't matter! Keep firing!" George shouted back, his breath fogging in the freezing air.
Behind them, the girls worked quickly, lighting Molotov cocktails and getting the flamethrowers ready. Marcy, Raven, Lucy, Heather, and Madison moved like a well-oiled machine, each one focused on their task, knowing that failure wasn't an option.
"Ready?" Marcy called out, holding a lit Molotov.
"Do it!" George replied.
Marcy hurled the first bottle out the window. It sailed through the air, crashing into the horde below with a burst of flame. The fire spread quickly, engulfing several zombies at once. Their high-pitched shrieks grew louder, almost unbearable, as they writhed in the flames.
"Keep them coming!" George shouted, firing another round into the advancing horde.
Raven and Lucy took turns with the flamethrowers, shooting arcs of fire through the windows, burning the zombies as they tried to climb the walls. The heat from the flames was intense, and for a moment, it seemed like they might actually stand a chance.
But the horde was relentless. For every frozen corpse they burned or shot, more took its place. The storm's dark magic kept them coming, stronger and faster than before.
"They just keep coming!" Thomas yelled, his voice cracking under the strain.
George's arms ached from the weight of the rifle, but he kept firing, his mind racing as he tried to figure out how much longer they could hold on. His body was screaming for rest, but he couldn't stop, not when the lives of everyone in the mansion were at stake.
"We're running low on ammo!" Tobias called out from his position near the far window. "I'm down to my last few rounds!"
Marcy hurled another Molotov out the window, her arms trembling from the effort. "I'm out of bottles after this!"
Lucy's flamethrower sputtered, running low on fuel. She swore under her breath and tossed it aside, grabbing the last of their makeshift explosives. "We're almost out of fire too!"
The mansion shook as another wave of zombies slammed into the walls, their shrieks growing louder and more frenzied. The sound was so high-pitched, so unnatural, it felt like it was tearing through their minds.
George could feel the pressure building, the overwhelming sense that they were running out of time. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with the freezing air and snow. They couldn't keep this up much longer. The horde was closing in, and they were nearly out of options.
"We need a miracle," George muttered under his breath as he fired his last round.
Just as he said it, the last of Marcy's Molotovs exploded, taking out a large group of zombies at once. The flames roared to life, and for a brief moment, there was silence. The horde seemed to hesitate, the remaining zombies standing still as if confused.
But it was only a momentary reprieve.
More shrieks echoed from the distance, and the glow of blue eyes appeared through the storm. The next wave was coming, and this time, they were completely out of ammo, Molotovs, and firepower.
"Fall back!" George ordered, his voice hoarse. "We need to regroup!"
The group stumbled back from the windows, their bodies aching and their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The mansion's defenses were crumbling, and they were nearly defenseless.
As the group retreated into the inner rooms of the mansion, George couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. The storm had brought the dead to life, and whatever was controlling it wasn't going to stop until they were all dead.
"Everyone okay?" George asked, his voice tight as they gathered in the hallway.
Raven nodded, though she looked exhausted. Lucy slumped against the wall, her eyes wide with fear. Marcy was breathing hard, her hands shaking as she set down the empty crate of Molotov supplies.
"We're alive," Marcy said, her voice cracking slightly. "But we're out of everything."
George's mind raced, searching for a solution. "We'll have to get creative if we're going to survive the next wave."
Elijah, wiping sweat from his brow, shook his head grimly. "We're sitting ducks without ammo or fire."
Tobias, leaning heavily against the wall, nodded in agreement. "It's only a matter of time before they break through."
George looked around at the weary, battered faces of his friends, his family. They had survived the worst of it, but the storm was still out there, and something far darker was pulling the strings. Whatever was coming next, it wasn't going to be just more zombies.
"We can't let them win," George said, his voice firm despite the exhaustion. "We'll find a way. We always do."
As he spoke, the wind howled louder outside, the storm swirling around the mansion like a malevolent force. George knew that this wasn't over, not by a long shot. But as long as they stuck together, they stood a fighting chance.
The wind howled relentlessly outside, rattling the mansion's shutters and sending chills down the spines of everyone inside. George stood near the window, looking out at the seemingly endless blizzard, his thoughts a swirl of worry and exhaustion. They had fought off wave after wave of ice zombies and snowmen, but it didn't feel like the battle was over. Something much darker was at work, something that seemed to toy with them, waiting for the right moment to strike.
As George gazed out into the white, a flicker of movement caught his eye. He squinted, his breath fogging the cold glass. Three barrels lay on their sides near the corner of the yard, half-buried in snow. His heart skipped a beat as a memory clicked into place, the oil barrels they'd scavenged weeks ago, the ones they had used during the fight against the refugees.
"Raven! Lucy! Tobias!" George called, his voice tight with urgency.
The others quickly gathered around him, their faces still pale from the cold, but alert.
"What is it, George?" Raven asked, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, her eyes searching his for an answer.
George pointed out the window at the barrels. "The oil drums. We can use them, like we did against the refugees. Create a wall of fire."
Raven's eyes lit up as she followed his gaze. "You think we can burn them again?"
"There's three there and I think there might be two or three by the door," George said, his mind already running through the logistics. "But if we set them up right, we can create a barrier that'll buy us time. Maybe even take out a few of those things in the process."
Lucy stepped closer, her arms crossed against the cold. "It worked before. We managed to slow them down with fire. If we can do it again, it'll give us an advantage."
Tobias nodded, his expression grim. "We're running low on everything else. Ammo, Molotovs, flamethrower fuel. This could be our last shot."
"Then let's make it count," George said firmly.
The group huddled together to plan their next move. They'd need to brave the storm, drag the barrels into place, and set them up as a defensive line before the next attack hit. It was risky, but at this point, every plan was a gamble.
"We'll need to move fast," George said, pulling on his coat. "The storm's only getting worse."
"I'll help set up the barrels," Raven offered, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. "I'm not letting those things get any closer to this house."
Lucy grabbed her rifle, her jaw set with determination. "I'll cover you from the windows. If anything gets too close, I'll take the shot."
Tobias, ever the steady hand, loaded his shotgun. "Let's hope this works."
George, Raven, and Tobias bundled up and grabbed the necessary tools, ropes, a lighter, and a few small cans of gasoline they had stashed away. The cold outside was brutal, the wind cutting through their layers like icy blades, but they moved with purpose, dragging the barrels through the deep snow to create a defensive line just far enough from the mansion's perimeter.
"Set them up here," George instructed, planting one of the barrels in the snow. "We need a clear path to light the fire, but close enough to do some real damage."
The others nodded, quickly positioning the barrels. George's hands were numb as he worked, but he forced himself to focus. He couldn't afford to slip up now. Each barrel was a lifeline, and every second counted.
Raven wiped the snow from her face, her breath coming out in visible puffs. "This is going to have to hold them off. There's no turning back once we light it."
"We'll make it work," George assured her, though the weight of their situation pressed heavily on his chest. They were fighting against impossible odds, but it wasn't just his own life on the line. It was everyone he cared about, Raven, Lucy, Tobias, Marcy, even the new arrivals. The thought of failing them was unbearable.
As they finished securing the barrels, the wind picked up even more, carrying with it an unnatural, bone-chilling cold. George could feel it in the air, something was coming. Something worse than anything they had faced so far.
He glanced up at the dark clouds swirling above them, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut. The blizzard was more than just a storm. It was alive, driven by something ancient and evil.
"We need to get back inside," Tobias said, his voice tight with urgency. "They're coming."
George's eyes narrowed as he scanned the treeline, but he couldn't see anything through the thick curtain of snow. Still, he knew Tobias was right. The storm was moving, the wind carrying with it the sound of distant shrieks, the same high-pitched, terrifying wails they had heard before.
"We light this when they get close," George said, gripping the lighter tightly in his hand. "It's our last line of defense."
The group hurried back toward the mansion, their hearts racing as the storm closed in around them. Inside, Lucy was waiting by the window, her rifle at the ready.
"They're coming," she confirmed, her voice low and tense. "I can hear them."
George exchanged a glance with Raven, their unspoken fear shared in that brief moment. This was it. Their final stand against the storm's undead army.
As the shrieks grew louder, George took a deep breath, his hands trembling slightly from the cold and the weight of what was about to happen.
"Let's show them what we've got," he said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else.
The storm raged outside, battering the mansion with relentless fury. Inside, the group gathered by the windows, their breath fogging up the glass as they kept a watchful eye on the blizzard. The air was tense, every sound seeming to carry a threat.
George stood by the door, the lighter in his hand. His pulse thrummed in his ears as he waited for the signal to light the barrels. Raven was beside him, her shotgun slung over her shoulder, while Tobias and Elijah were ready with their rifles, eyes trained on the swirling snow outside.
"I hate this waiting," Raven muttered, her voice tight with nerves.
"We all do," George replied, his own nerves frayed. "But we need to wait for the right moment. If we waste the barrels too soon, we'll be defenseless."
Marcy, standing by the upstairs window with Lucy and the others, called down, "I see movement. They're here."
The shrieks began as faint wails in the distance, carried by the wind, but quickly grew louder and more urgent. The storm itself seemed to take on a malevolent life, the snow swirling in unnatural patterns as the undead horde approached.
George's heart raced as he peered through the window. At first, it was just shadows moving through the storm, but then he saw them, figures emerging from the blizzard, their glowing blue eyes cutting through the white. The ice zombies, more of them than he could count, were shambling toward the mansion, their frozen limbs moving with eerie determination.
"They're coming straight for us," Tobias muttered, his grip tightening on his rifle.
George clenched his jaw, his mind racing. "Get ready. We light the barrels when they reach the first line."
The group braced themselves as the zombies advanced, the air growing colder with every passing second. The wind howled through the cracks in the windows, and the floorboards creaked underfoot as the mansion shuddered against the storm's force.
"Stay sharp!" George called up to the others. "They'll be here any minute!"
The undead drew closer, their glowing eyes fixed on the mansion, their shrieks piercing the air. Raven's breath hitched beside him, but her eyes remained steely, her hands steady on the shotgun. This was it, their last line of defense. If the fire didn't stop them, they were done for.
Just as the first wave of ice zombies reached the barrels, George flicked the lighter, the flame catching on the gasoline-soaked rags they had wrapped around the barrel tops.
"Light it!" he shouted.
Raven was already moving, using a match to light the second barrel, while Tobias and Elijah lit the third.
The fire roared to life with a blinding flash, consuming the barrels in a wall of flame that stretched across the front of the mansion. The heat was immediate, a welcome contrast to the bitter cold, and the fire illuminated the snow, casting long shadows as the zombies walked straight into the inferno.
The first few were consumed instantly, their frozen bodies crumbling to ash as the fire burned through them. Their shrieks rose to an unbearable pitch, but the fire didn't care. It ate through them, unstoppable, leaving nothing but charred remains in its wake.
The fire wall held strong, and for a moment, it seemed like they had won.
"They're burning!" Lucy shouted from the upstairs window. "It's working!"
George felt a surge of hope as he watched the fire consume the ice zombies, their glowing eyes extinguished one by one. The flames danced in the night, a beacon of survival against the darkness.
But then, through the flames, George saw something that made his blood run cold.
A hulking figure, larger than any of the other zombies, was moving through the fire, unscathed. Its glowing blue eyes were fixed on the mansion, and its icy form seemed impervious to the flames. It was no ordinary undead. This was something far more dangerous.
George's heart sank. "What the hell is that?"
Raven followed his gaze, her eyes widening in horror. "That thing... it's walking through the fire like it's nothing."
Lucy's voice came through, shaky with fear. "We're out of ammo up here! We don't have anything left to fight that thing!"
George knew they were in trouble. The fire had worked against the smaller zombies, but this new creature, this hulking mass of ice, was different. It wasn't affected by the flames. It was something far worse.
"We need to fall back!" George shouted, his voice strained as the creature stepped through the wall of fire.
The massive ice zombie let out a roar, its icy body shimmering in the firelight. It raised a giant, frozen arm and slammed it into the ground, sending a shockwave through the snow that nearly knocked George and Raven off their feet.
"We can't hold them here!" Tobias called from the other side of the yard, his voice barely audible over the roar of the fire and the storm. "Fall back to the mansion!"
They had no choice. The fire was their last defense, and it was barely holding. If they didn't retreat now, they would be overrun.
"Everyone, inside!" George ordered, grabbing Raven's arm and pulling her toward the door.
The group scrambled back into the mansion, slamming the door behind them just as the hulking ice creature stepped through the flames, its glowing eyes fixated on its prey.
George slammed the door behind them, his pulse hammering in his ears. The sound of the wind outside was deafening, and the crackling of the fire from the oil barrels barely reached them now that they were inside. He glanced at Raven, whose face was pale but determined, and then at the rest of the group as they regrouped in the entryway.
"That thing walked right through the fire," Lucy said breathlessly, standing by the window, her eyes wide with fear. "What are we supposed to do now?"
George paced for a moment, running his hands through his hair, his mind racing. The fire wall was their last defense, and now, the hulking ice creature had breached it.
Tobias limped into the room, favoring his right leg. "We don't have much time. It's coming. We need another plan."
"Get everyone upstairs," George ordered, thinking fast. "We'll try to hold them off from the upper level. If we can barricade the doors and windows, maybe we can slow them down."
Marcy nodded, already moving to grab anything they could use as a barricade. "Come on, everyone, let's move!"
The group scrambled to gather supplies, overturning furniture, grabbing planks of wood, anything they could find to fortify the upper level. The mansion groaned under the pressure of the storm, the wind howling like a living thing as the snow piled higher and higher outside.
Just as they started up the stairs, the mansion shuddered again. A loud, bone-chilling crack echoed through the house as one of the windows downstairs shattered. A gust of icy wind tore through the hallway, sending snow flying into the house.
"They're inside!" Raven shouted, her voice tight with fear.
"Move, move, move!" George urged, pushing everyone upstairs. "Barricade the stairs!"
Thomas and Elijah moved quickly, using whatever they could find to block off the stairwell. George knew it wouldn't hold forever, but it would buy them a few more minutes.
"Raven, Lucy, get the flamethrowers ready," George said, his voice steady despite the panic gnawing at his gut. "We might not be able to stop that thing, but we can at least try to slow it down."
The group took positions by the second-floor windows, waiting for the inevitable. The air was thick with tension, every second feeling like an eternity as they listened to the creaks and groans of the mansion. Outside, the blizzard raged on, the wind screaming like a banshee.
Then they heard it.
A deep, guttural growl echoed through the house, followed by the sound of heavy, deliberate footsteps. The creature was inside.
"Here it comes," Tobias muttered under his breath, his grip tight on his shotgun. "We need to be ready."
George's heart pounded in his chest as he peered out one of the windows. The storm made it hard to see, but through the swirling snow, he could just make out the massive figure of the ice creature moving toward the mansion. Its glowing blue eyes were like beacons in the dark, and the closer it got, the more George realized just how massive it really was.
It stood at least ten feet tall, its body made entirely of ice and frost, with sharp, jagged limbs that looked like they could tear through steel. It moved with a slow, deliberate grace, as though it knew it couldn't be stopped.
"This isn't just a zombie," Raven whispered, her voice barely audible. "This thing... it's something else."
"We need to hit it hard," George said, gripping his rifle tightly. "Everyone, aim for the head. We have to take it down."
Lucy positioned herself by the window, flamethrower in hand. "I'm ready."
The creature reached the front of the mansion, its icy fingers digging into the walls as it started to climb. The sound of cracking wood echoed through the house as it pulled itself up, its weight causing the walls to shudder.
"Now!" George shouted.
Lucy squeezed the trigger on the flamethrower, sending a stream of fire toward the creature's head. The flames roared to life, engulfing the ice zombie in a fiery blaze, but to George's horror, it didn't stop. The creature let out a low growl, shaking off the fire as if it were nothing more than a nuisance.
"It's not working!" Lucy shouted, panic creeping into her voice.
George cursed under his breath, grabbing one of the last Molotov cocktails from the stash they had left. "Try this!"
He lit the bottle and hurled it out the window. The Molotov exploded against the creature's chest, flames licking up its icy body. The fire spread, but again, the creature barely reacted.
"We're out of options!" Raven yelled, her shotgun now empty. "We can't stop it!"
The creature let out a roar, and with a single swipe of its massive arm, it shattered one of the second-floor windows, sending shards of glass flying into the room. George ducked just in time, the cold wind biting at his skin.
"This isn't going to hold," Tobias warned, his face grim. "We need a way out."
The mansion groaned again as the creature pulled itself higher, its glowing eyes locked on George and the others.
"We need to draw it away from the house," George said, his mind racing. "If we can get it outside again, maybe we can, "
But his words were cut off by a deafening crash. The creature had reached the second floor, its icy form towering over them. It swung its arm, smashing through the wall with terrifying force. Wood splintered, and the floor shook as the creature advanced.
"Fall back!" George yelled, grabbing Raven's hand and pulling her away from the window. "Everyone, fall back!"
The group retreated further into the mansion, racing toward the far side of the second floor. The walls trembled as the creature tore through the house, its growls echoing through the halls. They had to move fast, or the entire mansion would come down around them.
George's mind was racing. They were running out of time. The creature was relentless, and it wouldn't stop until they were all dead.
As they reached the far side of the mansion, George spotted the remaining oil barrels they hadn't used yet, stacked near the back door.
"We still have one more shot," he muttered under his breath. "The last oil barrels."
Raven's eyes widened as she realized what he was thinking. "You want to blow it up?"
Marcy gave a look of concern. "Without the fuel we won't be able to turn the heater on. It might takes weeks to find more!"
"It's our only chance," George said. "We lure it to the back of the house, and then we blow the barrels. It's a long shot, but it might be enough to take it down."
Tobias, overhearing the plan, nodded. "It's crazy, but it might work."
George turned to the others, determination in his eyes. "We're going to end this. Get the barrels ready."
As the creature tore through the mansion, the group moved quickly, setting up the barrels near the back door. George grabbed the last lighter from his pocket, his hands shaking from the cold.
"This is it," he said, his voice low. "We blow it, or we're done."
The creature roared again, its icy form looming closer and closer. George lit the first barrel, the flame catching on the oil-soaked rags.
"Now!" he shouted.
With a deafening explosion, the barrels ignited, sending a massive fireball roaring through the back of the mansion. The creature let out a final, agonized shriek as the flames consumed it, its icy form melting away in the inferno.
The mansion shook, debris falling around them, but when the smoke finally cleared, the creature was gone.
They had won, at least for now.
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