Page 2 of Demon Shock

I released Pete. Repeat immediately jumped into my arms. Laughing, I shifted him to one side to check the reply. I hoped it was Steve with his same “it’s not possible” speech so I could tell him to sit on a pole. However, it wasn’t from him or my boss. It was an automated message saying it was undeliverable.

Actually, the last several email updates had all come back undeliverable. Looking at the dates, I started to drown in my panic. It’d been months since my boss had heard from me. Cringing, I started my phone and began troubleshooting my internet connection on my computer while I waited.

My phone and computer received errors that they couldn’t connect to the server or carrier.

It wasn’t the first time I had lost my satellite connection at the cabin. I was almost two hours northeast of Duluth, Minnesota, surrounded by towering trees. It happened.

Thankfully, I’d done all my programming on my local machines, so I hadn’t lost any work—just maybe my job since I hadn’t been providing the promised updates.

“I’ll need to make a trip to town, no matter what, boys.”

I put away anything they might knock over and banked the fire.

“No fighting,” I said before shutting them in.

I parked my truck in the shed-turned-garage with the generator. The door rolled open with ease, and I patted the hood of my truck.

“Don’t worry. We’re not returning to civilization yet. Just to the highway to get a signal.”

Navigating the dirt roads that led to the paved county road took longer than normal. At times, the roads were covered in a full winter’s worth of virgin snow, making it difficult to tell where they were. So, I took it slow.

When I reached the paved road, I saw snow covering that, too, to my surprise. A lot of snow…as if it hadn't been plowed either. Only faint divots hinted at snowed-over tire marks. Since it was one of the main roads into Silver Bay, I found it kind of odd.

I checked my satellite phone for a signal but didn’t find one. No surprise there. The overcast sky hinted at more snow, which wasn’t uncommon in March this far north.

Turning onto the main road headed into town, I listened to the snow crunch under my tires.

The truck rumbled steadily for the first ten miles until I saw the curve that intersected with Lax Lake Road. I slowed down even more so I wouldn’t end up in a ditch with no cell reception to call for a tow.

Snow covered the only house and driveway on the bend, untouched like the road. No smoke drifted from the chimney. They were probably already somewhere else enjoying beach-side margaritas, lucky bastards.

When I finally reached Silver Bay’s subdivisions, I thought I’d see some road maintenance, but nope…the snow-covered pavement continued undisturbed. Maybe the city plow broke?But what about the sidewalks then? People usually cleared those.

A sense of wrongness crept down my spine as I noticed not a single person outside. Yes, it was cold. But people born in the upper Midwest didn’t stay inside because of snow. It took extreme windchills to force them indoors. And the weather wasn’t extreme. It was barely below freezing today.

I drove past the high school and saw the empty parking lot. Did I have the wrong day?

I glanced at my watch. It was a Tuesday in March. Spring break, maybe then?

Unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong, I pulled into the hardware store’s parking lot and tried my satellite phone again. When I saw I still had no signal, I sighed and killed the engine.

The wind off the lake almost tore the door from my hand as I opened it. My boots crunched on the thin layer of wind-blown snow as I hurried toward the hardware store’s door. I was busy keeping my head down to protect myself from the wind, so I didn’t look up until I’d almost reached the door. When I did, my steps slowed.

The glass on the bottom half of the door was broken. Snow swept through the space, creating a drift just inside the door. I stared at the drift, or rather, the pant leg peeking out of the drift. Like a doomed moth drawn to the flame, I couldn’t stop moving forward. I needed to know I was wrong. That my eyes were wrong.

A step closer, the rest of the man came into view. He lay slouched against a display case. Frozen solid with a bullet hole between his lifeless, half-closed eyes.

My breathing came in sharp rasps as I peddled back rapidly and fell on my ass. I sprang right back up and bolted to my truck.

I had no phone, and there was nobody around to flag down. Why weren’t there people around? Someone should have found him already. He’d looked like he’d been there for days.

My hands shook as I started the engine and turned my truck around.

With a growing sense of panic, I scanned the unmarred parking lot of the police station right across the street. Where was everyone?

Spinning out of the parking lot, I drove into the closest subdivision, peering at the houses. I spotted a broken window and a front door ajar. A few yards had snow-covered lumps on them.

I wiped a shaking hand across my face, unsure when I’d started crying, and turned onto the main road to check another subdivision. All the houses were the same. Devoid of any signs of life. The same with the next and the next. I snaked my way through every street in Silver Bay then stopped in the middle of the road.

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