Werewolf Suspense (Book 3): Outage 3 (Vengeance) Read Online Free PDF Page B

guilt-ridden breath.
    "There's no way you could've known about this."
      "Maybe not this , exactly, but something . I should've trusted my instincts."
    "I'm sure they're at the shelter," Tom said, though he wasn't convinced.
    "If I'd taken a different route, maybe I'd be with them. Maybe I could've avoided those things and gotten there." Rosemary was quiet for a second. "The car you took to get here. Does it work?"
    Tom could already read her intentions. "I left it running, but it shut off. The gas might've run out. Either that, or something else is wrong with it."
    In the darkness, Rosemary chewed her lips. "If we get it started, I bet we can make it to the shelter," she said.
    "That wouldn't be a good idea, Rosemary."
    "Maybe those things have wandered off. We haven't heard anything in a while. The Knights of Columbus is only six miles away. We could drive without stopping. I need to get to Jason and Jeffrey."
    Tom envisioned the stalled, bloodied procession he'd encountered on the way in. He and Rosemary were lucky to have survived as long as they had. "It's not safe to leave. I've seen what they can do, Rosemary. They'll surround us. They'll get inside the vehicle."
    "With all these weapons, we have to try." Rosemary's tone turned from fear to anger. "My family needs me."
    "You won't be able to help them if you're dead. We need to wait until morning."
    He heard her shifting in the dark, wiping her face. Then she stood. "I need to get to them, Tom. If you won't go with me, I'll go myself."
    He heard her digging through the pile of weapons. Tom's pulse climbed. If anything happened to Rosemary, he'd feel responsible. Although he barely knew her, he'd taken her in; he was obligated to keep her safe.  
    "I can't let you leave," he tried.
    Rosemary ignored him. She took hold of a weapon and darted for the stairs. He called after her, but she kept going. He followed her up the steps, fearful of the noise. "Rosemary! Get back here."
    "What are you going to do? Force me to stay?"
    "No, but I—"
    "If you had children, Tom, you'd understand."
    The image of Jeremy crept into Tom's mind. He envisioned his son playing baseball, his face after he'd aced his driver's test. Rosemary must've assumed he was childless. "I did have a son. His name was Jeremy. He passed away a few years ago."
    Rosemary paused, distracted from her mission. "I didn't mean what I said, Tom," she whispered.
    "It's okay."
    "What happened to him?"
    "He died on the way to a friend's house. He was driving in a snowstorm like this one. It happened five years ago. He was taking a corner, and he lost traction and the car flipped over a guardrail. He didn't make it. He would've been twenty-two this year."
    "Jesus." Rosemary exhaled. The story of Jeremy seemed to have doused her anger. "I'm really sorry about that."
    "Don't worry about it."
    After a pause, she spoke. "I know you would've done anything to save his life, Tom."
    "Of course I would've." Tom cleared his throat. He'd have traded his life to keep his son alive.
    "Then you understand that I have to go." She fiddled with the door handle in the dark. This time, Tom didn't argue. "I can't sit down here in some basement any longer. Not while they're out there. Not while they're scared."
    Rosemary unlocked the door and opened it. After listening for a moment, Tom snapped on the flashlight and called after her.
    "Wait up, Rosemary. If we're going, we'll need all the ammunition we can take."

    The air outside was frigid, but the snow had relented. Wisps of white floated past them, enjoying a ride from the wind. Tom and Rosemary made a cautious dash to the driveway. The station wagon was blanketed in snow. If it weren't for the antennas, Tom might've mistaken the vehicle for a bump in the landscape.
    When he reached the driver's side door, Tom peered through the broken-out window. The station wagon was as empty as he'd left it. Shards of glass still clung to the passenger's seat; the glove box hung open.
    "Cover me