Chapter 55 - The Blizzard on Route 9
The storm hit the southern coast of Maine with the savage fury of a Category Two hurricane wrapped in ice.
Arthur sat near the stone fireplace of the secluded hunting lodge, wrapped in a wool blanket that did nothing to stop his shivers.
Two state troopers were posted at the perimeter gates, their flashlights cutting uselessly through the blinding whiteout.
Vance paced the length of the pine room, his pump-action shotgun resting against the table.
The satellite phone on the mantel crackled with static before dying completely as the overhead power lines snapped under the ice.
Outside, the wind shrieked like a dying animal through the towering red pines.
Arthur looked at the grandfather clock ticking on the wall, feeling a phantom tightening in his chest.
He warned Vance that Eleanor never attacked from the front and that she never arrived alone.
A sudden, muffled thud echoed from the front porch, followed by the wet crunch of boots on fresh powder.
Vance grabbed his shotgun, signaling Arthur to crawl behind the reinforced cast-iron stove.
The front window exploded inward in a shower of crystallized frost and tempered glass.
A smoke canister hissed violently across the pine floorboards, spewing thick white chemical fog into the room.
The front door swung wide, framing the silhouette of a towering man in tactical winter gear holding a silenced submachine gun.
Vance fired a 12-gauge blast through the smoke, catching the intruder in the shoulder and spinning him into the doorframe.
But from the shattered kitchen window behind them, a second figure moved with terrifying, silent speed.
Dr. Davenport stepped into the room, holding an automated tranquilizer pistol aimed directly at Arthur’s throat.
Before Vance could pump another shell into the chamber, a rifle shot rang out from the tree line outside.
The bullet tore through the wall, grazing Vance’s ribs and sending him crashing against the stone hearth.
Through the swirling vortex of snow and chemical smoke, Eleanor stepped through the ruined front entrance.
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She wore a white fur-lined parka, her face illuminated only by the faint orange glow of the dying fire.
She leveled her weapon at Vance’s forehead and told him that his shift was officially over.
