Freeze by Daniel Pyle Page A

the pressure couldn’t get any worse without killing her, it finally let up. Just barely at first, but then some more.
    The creature chomped its teeth together, made a series of wheezing sounds that might have been gags. As if it were trying to hack the piece of wood back out.
    When the tentacles loosened enough, Tess pulled free and backed across the kitchen, still holding the tongs. 
    The chunk of firewood had stopped halfway down the thing’s body. If it had any kind of anatomy, maybe that was its stomach. Regardless, you could see the wood in there, a dark spec within the semi-opaque layers. Wood, but no flames. The fire had gone out. 
    Parts of the creature had caved in, cratered and cracked. It ran its tentacles and its icicle fingers across these depressions the way a person might finger fresh wounds. It hissed, and although it looked wounded, it was far from dead. She expected it to lunge at her, to wrap its limbs around her body and squeeze her to a pulp. Instead, it turned, stuck its head through the window, used its tentacles to push off the floor and the counters (snapping one cabinet door right off its hinges in the process) and wiggled its way back out into the blizzard.
    Tess gaped, not sure what had happened, why the thing hadn’t retaliated.
    Maybe it’s hurt worse than you thought. Or maybe it went out for reinforcements.
    Didn’t matter. Whatever the thing was doing, and for whatever reason, she needed to take the opportunity to regroup.
    In the hallway, Bub continued struggling with the other creature. She heard the two of them in there, hissing and barking and bumping into the walls. And she heard the first creature in the bedroom, still battering the door. She couldn’t believe it hadn’t gotten into the rest of the house yet. Maybe their doors were tougher than she thought.
    Forget about that. Save Bub. It’s not too late.
    The half of the log the creature hadn’t swallowed lay on the kitchen floor in a pool of water. It wasn’t going to do her any good, but there was still another log crackling in the fireplace.
    She hurried into the living room, swinging the tongs at her side. The chunk of wood on the fireplace grate wasn’t much of a log anymore. It had burned down to the size of a softball and was really more of a coal. But it was bright red, and the little creature in the back hall wasn’t the behemoth its partner had been. This would be enough. It had to be enough.
    She poked the tongs into the fireplace and gripped the piece of wood, careful not to squeeze it too hard, afraid she might break it into a dozen worthless pieces if she did. The wood smoked, but it was already losing some of its color.
    Hurry!
    She ran through the living room, through the kitchen, into the hall.
    She found Bub on the floor in a puddle of gore. The creature stood over him, blood running out of its mouth and pinkening as it ran down the beast’s wet body. Tufts of yellow fur poked out from between its teeth. It had a pair of tendrils wrapped around Bub’s neck, and the dog’s tongue lolled.
    “No!” She jumped at the monster, aiming the tongs and fiery coal at its head. It started to move, to dodge, but it was too late. Tess pressed the wood into the side of its head and held it there until the thing let go of Bub and backed down the hall.
    Not that there was anywhere for it to go. It backed up to the door and crouched there, flailing its limbs, trying to knock the tongs out of Tess’s hands as she advanced on it again. Most of the side of its head had melted away. Even with its mouth closed, you could see into its maw, see those pointed rows of blood-stained teeth.
    The wood seemed to have lost most of its heat, but she jammed it against the thing again anyway. The creature screamed and wrapped its tentacles around the tongs and as far up Tess’s arms as it could reach, but although the snaking tendrils were freezing cold, there didn’t seem to be much strength in them. Tess grabbed one, broke it