Capítulo 27: Chapter 12: The Coming of Phrost
The cold was creeping in faster than anyone had anticipated, but with Bear, the black Labrador puppy, bringing a bit of cheer to the mansion, the group was in relatively good spirits.
Bear bounded across the living room, his tiny paws skidding over the wooden floor as he chased after a worn tennis ball Grace had been tossing for him. The puppy's clumsy movements drew laughter from everyone, his energy a welcome distraction from the reality of their situation.
"Go get it, Bear!" Grace giggled, tossing the ball again. Bear's tail wagged furiously as he scrambled after it, sliding under one of the tables and knocking over a chair in the process.
Lucy chuckled from where she leaned against the wall, her M1 Carbine slung over her shoulder. "Damn dog's gonna knock the whole house down if he keeps that up. Grace, you gotta teach him how to be more... stealthy."
"Stealthy?" Grace grinned, tossing the ball again. "He's a puppy, Lucy, not a ninja."
Lucy gave an exaggerated sigh, pushing off the wall and walking over to Bear. She crouched down, rubbing behind his ears. "Well, he's gotta learn sometime. What if the apocalypse calls for covert operations, huh? You can't have a wild dog blowing your cover."
Bear barked happily, oblivious to Lucy's teasing, and pounced on her foot, gnawing at her boot laces. She rolled her eyes but didn't stop him, letting the puppy chew away with his puppy teeth.
George sat by the fireplace, watching the scene unfold with a faint smile on his face. It was a rare moment of lightness, something that had become increasingly rare since the world had fallen apart. Even Raven, who sat beside him, was relaxed, flipping through the pages of an old survival guide they'd scavenged, her face lit by the fire's warm glow.
Marcy was in the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she brewed a pot of tea. The aroma of dried herbs and spices filled the room, giving the mansion a cozy, almost homey feel. It was strange how moments like these, where they could forget the horrors outside, made it feel like everything was normal again.
The kettle whistled, and Marcy poured the steaming water into several mugs. "Tea's ready," she called over her shoulder, her voice soft but carrying an undercurrent of warmth.
"God, I'd kill for some actual coffee," Lucy muttered, though she smiled as she accepted the mug Marcy handed her.
"Tea's good for the soul," Marcy replied, giving Lucy a playful nudge. "Besides, we all know what too much coffee does to you."
Lucy laughed, a real one this time, and took a sip. "Fair point."
As they settled into the warmth of the mansion, George couldn't help but let his mind wander. The past few weeks had been brutal , constant fighting, scavenging, surviving. Yet here they were, still standing, still together. The thought gave him a sense of pride, but also unease. It was too quiet. Too peaceful. And the weather outside was getting worse.
The wind howled against the windows, rattling the panes as if begging to be let in. George stared into the fire, his brow furrowed. There was something strange about the cold, something that felt unnatural. He hadn't said much about it to the others, but he knew they felt it too. The temperature had dropped so rapidly over the past few days, and the clouds...
"George," Raven's voice broke into his thoughts. She had put the book down and was looking at him with that familiar, knowing expression. "What's going on in that head of yours?"
He hesitated, his gaze shifting to the window where the thickening clouds were barely visible through the frost-covered glass. "It's the storm. It doesn't feel right."
Raven glanced at the window too, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Yeah... I've been thinking the same thing. It's coming fast."
Marcy, who had been pouring herself a cup of tea, paused at the counter, her hand gripping the mug. For a moment, something flickered in her peripheral vision , a shadow, quick and fleeting. She whipped her head toward the window, but there was nothing there. Just the swirling snow and darkness.
She shook her head and laughed nervously, trying to shake off the creeping feeling that had settled into her bones. "Must be my imagination..."
"What is it, Marcy?" George asked, noticing the tension in her shoulders.
"Oh, nothing," Marcy replied, waving a hand dismissively. "I thought I saw something, but... it was probably just the wind."
Raven raised an eyebrow. "The wind doesn't make shadows."
Marcy smiled, but there was no humor in it. "Maybe not, but it's been a long day. We're all seeing things."
George didn't press her. Instead, he stood up and stretched, walking toward the window. Outside, the storm was brewing. The sky was a swirling mass of dark clouds, rolling in like an angry sea. The snow hadn't started falling yet, but the wind was picking up, howling through the trees like a warning.
"Looks like we're in for one hell of a storm," George muttered, his breath fogging up the glass as he peered out into the darkness.
The atmosphere in the mansion shifted, the once lighthearted banter fading into an uncomfortable silence. Even Bear, who had been happily chewing on Lucy's boot, stopped and perked up his ears, his small body tensing as if sensing the change.
"Okay, that's it. I'm officially creeped out," Lucy said, her voice lighter than the tension in the room. "I don't like it when Bear starts acting like that."
Grace, who had been quietly playing with the puppy, looked up, her wide eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. "It's just the storm, right?"
"I hope so," George replied, his voice low. He stepped away from the window, his hand unconsciously tightening around the strap of his rifle. The wind was growing louder, the house groaning under the pressure of it.
A loud thump echoed from upstairs, making everyone jump.
"What the hell was that?" Raven asked, already on her feet, hand on her gun.
"Probably just a branch hitting the roof," Elijah suggested from his spot by the radio, though his tone wasn't convincing.
Marcy set her mug down carefully, her eyes scanning the room. "Or something else."
For a moment, nobody moved. The wind outside roared, and then, as if on cue, there was another sound , this one deeper, more guttural. A howl, carried on the wind, long and drawn out. It wasn't the sound of an animal. It was something else.
Bear whined, his little body trembling as he pressed himself against Grace's leg. The room fell silent, all eyes turning toward the windows, where the snow had begun to fall in thick, heavy flakes.
"That didn't sound like the wind," Lucy said, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"No, it didn't," George agreed, his pulse quickening. His mind raced as he considered the possibilities, but nothing made sense. Whatever had made that sound wasn't something they had encountered before.
Raven's eyes were sharp, her instincts kicking in. "Everyone, get ready. We need to be prepared for whatever's out there."
As if responding to her words, the lights flickered once, twice, and then went out completely, plunging the mansion into darkness. The fire was now the only source of light, casting long, eerie shadows across the walls. The wind outside screamed, the howl coming again, louder this time.
Lucy's breath came out in a shaky laugh, though there was no humor in it. "Well, this just got a whole lot worse."
The fire crackled, the only sound in the darkened room besides the howling wind outside. The light from the flames flickered across the faces of the group, casting long shadows that danced eerily on the walls. George stood by the window, peering into the swirling storm. The snow was falling faster now, thick flakes whipping across the yard and quickly covering the ground in a blanket of white.
But it wasn't just the storm that had him on edge. There was something out there, something lurking beyond the edge of their visibility, waiting.
The howl came again, deeper this time, rumbling through the house like the growl of a predator just out of sight. It sent shivers down George's spine, a primal fear stirring in his gut. He turned away from the window and glanced at Raven, who was standing by the fireplace, her rifle in hand. Her eyes were locked on the door, her body tense and ready for whatever came next.
"Everyone needs to stay inside," George said, his voice low but commanding. "I don't know what's out there, but we're not going to face it unprepared."
"Do you think it's those creatures again?" Grace asked from her spot by the couch, her voice shaky. She was hugging Bear close, the puppy trembling in her arms as if sensing the same fear they all felt.
"I don't know," George replied honestly. "But we're not taking any chances."
Marcy was standing by the stove, her hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had long since gone cold. Her eyes were distant, as if she was lost in thought. When the howl had echoed through the mansion again, she had frozen, her face paling as if she had seen something , or remembered something , that she didn't want to.
She set the cup down with a quiet clink, her movements slow and deliberate. "Whatever it is, it's not natural," she murmured, her voice so low that George almost didn't hear her.
Raven glanced over at Marcy, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean, not natural?"
Marcy shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. "I've heard stories... back when I was a kid. Stories about storms like this. They didn't happen often, but when they did... people said they were sent by something. Something dark."
A cold silence followed her words. The room seemed to close in around them, the crackling fire now feeling distant and fragile against the growing storm outside.
Lucy, leaning against the doorframe, scoffed, though the humor didn't reach her eyes. "You mean like ghosts? Demons?"
Marcy didn't answer, her gaze distant, lost in old memories. George exchanged a glance with Raven, both of them unsure what to make of Marcy's words. But the uneasy feeling in his gut hadn't gone away , it had only grown stronger.
Another gust of wind rattled the windows, followed by a soft creaking sound, as if something were moving outside the mansion. George stiffened, turning toward the window, but all he could see was the swirling snow, thick and impenetrable. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them from the darkness.
"I think we should barricade the doors," Elijah said from the corner, where he had been fiddling with the now-useless radio. "Whatever that thing is out there, we don't want it coming in."
"Agreed," George said, stepping away from the window. "Everyone, grab what you can. Block the doors, cover the windows. We need to make sure nothing gets in."
They moved quickly, the tension rising with every passing second. Raven and Lucy started pulling furniture in front of the main doors while George and Elijah went to work on the windows. Grace set Bear down, though the puppy whined and pawed at her leg, clearly sensing the fear in the room.
As George pushed a heavy cabinet in front of the window, his breath came out in short, foggy bursts. The temperature inside the mansion had dropped significantly, the cold seeping through the cracks in the walls. The storm was growing more violent, the wind howling like a living thing, angry and hungry.
Suddenly, there was a loud bang from upstairs, followed by the unmistakable sound of footsteps. Everyone froze, their eyes darting toward the ceiling.
"Did anyone else hear that?" Raven asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
George nodded, his heart racing. "Yeah, I heard it."
"Stay here," Raven said, her voice firm as she reached for her rifle. "I'll check it out."
"No way," George replied quickly, grabbing his own weapon. "We go together."
The two of them exchanged a glance, and Raven nodded in agreement. Together, they moved toward the staircase, their footsteps eerily silent in the growing darkness. The rest of the group stayed downstairs, huddled near the fire, their eyes wide and filled with fear.
The creaking of the stairs beneath George's boots seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet house. As they reached the second floor, the temperature dropped even further, their breaths now visible in the air. The hallway stretched out before them, dim and shadowed, the doors to the bedrooms standing open like dark mouths.
They moved slowly, checking each room as they went, their rifles raised and ready. But there was nothing , just the sound of the wind howling through the cracks in the walls, and the occasional groan of the old mansion settling under the weight of the storm.
When they reached the end of the hallway, George stopped, his eyes narrowing as he looked toward the last door on the right. The door was closed, but something about it felt... wrong. As if the shadows surrounding it were darker, more oppressive.
"Something's not right here," George whispered, his grip tightening on his rifle.
Raven didn't respond. Instead, she stepped forward, reaching for the doorknob. But before she could open it, the howl came again , louder than ever, shaking the very walls of the mansion. It was as if the creature outside was right on top of them, its presence pressing down on the house, suffocating them with its malevolent energy.
And then, from downstairs, Grace screamed.
The sound pierced the air, shrill and full of terror. George's blood ran cold as he bolted toward the stairs, Raven right behind him. They tore down the hallway, their boots pounding against the floorboards as they rushed back to the living room.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, George skidded to a halt, his eyes wide with shock.
Grace was standing by the window, her face pale as death, her hands trembling violently. Her eyes were fixed on the glass, her mouth open in a silent scream of pure horror.
George followed her gaze , and felt his stomach drop.
Pressed up against the window was a face, pale and smiling, its toothy grin impossibly wide. But it wasn't human. It was one of the snowmen, its coal-black eyes staring directly at Grace. Its jagged, icicle-like teeth gleamed in the dim light as it pressed its face against the glass, its breath fogging up the window in front of it.
And then, slowly, it lifted one long, spindly arm and tapped its sharp, icy fingers against the glass.
Tap... tap... tap...
Grace let out another blood-curdling scream, and the snowman's grin widened.
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