The Survivor Chronicles: The Risen by Erica Stevens Page B

someone's meal. As much as
everything inside of her was against her daughter's hand wrapping
around the butt of that gun, she bit her tongue. She would hate
herself more if something happened to Rochelle because she didn't
have the weapon.
    "Aim for their chest," Carl whispered. "And
don't you pull the trigger unless you absolutely have to."
    "I know," Rochelle whispered back.
    Carl studied her for a second longer before
glancing at Mary Ellen. She gave him a brief nod of her head before
focusing her attention on the front door again. The banging against
it had stopped but she couldn't shake the feeling that they were
standing out there laughing at them inside. If something came
through that door, she and Josh would be in the perfect position to
stop the first wave. She would do everything she could to make sure
that Rochelle didn't have to pull the trigger.
    A sound like glass shattering filtered in
from outside. Carl and Al both winced but Mary Ellen couldn't tell
if it had come from one of the vehicles across the street, or a
nearby building. Please, let the others still
be safe, she pleaded silently as she tried not to let
her anxiety for them swamp her.
    Riley glanced toward the front window, and
then at Mary Ellen. Mary Ellen could only shrug her shoulders in
response to Riley's unspoken question of where the noise had come
from. Riley didn't move for a minute, a muscle in her cheek jumped,
but finally she turned her attention back to Nancy and returned to
comforting the crying woman.
    Mary Ellen froze, a chill slid down her
spine as something scratched across the front window. She was
gripped with the certainty that Jim was right, that those people
out there were just playing with them until they were ready to
pounce and devour them. She could almost believe a tree branch was
tapping against the glass, but she knew better. That hideous
laughter drifted through the building, the scraping of their
fingernails continued across the front window.
    It took everything she had not to start
screaming as her stress level built to nearly epic levels. She
waited breathlessly for the window to explode and people to launch
themselves into the store. Her eyes shot nervously to Peter when he
began to shift from foot to foot. His eyes bounced around the
store, the muscles in his forearms and biceps bulged as his hands
twisted on his gun.
    Not now , she
prayed. He can't melt down now . She
found herself unable to move as she waited for him to start firing
at the front window. Carl shook his head and grabbed hold of
Peter's arm when he lifted the gun. "They don't know we're here,"
Carl hissed.
    "You can't know that," Peter snarled.
    "They'd be in here if they did. They're like
animals now, smart and lethal, but they don't hesitate when it
comes to their food. They don't deny themselves. Firing that weapon
will only bring them in here. Stay quiet."
    Peter looked about to argue with him further
but footsteps running across the roof caused all of their heads to
tip back. The image of children laughing as they scurried into the
woods in search of some kind of mischief filled her mind as those
things raced across the roof. There were at least three of them up
there. They weren't laughing but the sound of it echoed in her
head.
    Al moved to stand before the counter, Jim
stood beside him as the fingernails moving across the plate glass
window bounced over to the front door. Mary Ellen's head snapped
back toward the window as the bouncing continued. They tapped out a
beat, one she believed she might have heard before, but she
couldn't quite place it as their nails continued their relentless
melody.
    A loud bang rattled off the other side of
the building; she assumed it came from the storage area that Jim
had pointed out. They were like cockroaches she realized,
everywhere at once. Like cockroaches these things didn't like light
either, but she didn't think they would scatter if the lights were
suddenly turned on. The sun may chase away some of