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The Waters’ Homestead
Outside Ellisville, VA
“Mom?”
Dianne’s eyelids fluttered and she took in a short, swift breath and let out a slight groan as she woke. The bedroom was dark, she was fully clothed—including her shoes—and lying on top of the covers with a light blanket draped over her. She glanced to her side to find Mark standing next to her bed, pushing on her shoulder with a concerned expression on his face.
It had taken hours to bury the men from the woods and the driveway, and in the end she was fairly certain that anyone still living on the property would have to deal with scavengers come the springtime thaw. The work was miserable, the soil was hard and full of roots and even though the bodies were frozen near-solid she could swear the scent of death was overpowering. After finishing the burials in a shallow mass grave in the woods between the house and the road out in front, Dianne spent far too long in the shower, using up nearly all of the hot water in the heater tank as she tried to wash the dirt and filth off of her—both literal and metaphorical.
Tina and Mark’s reactions to the activity had been substantially more muted, though none of the trio spoke much to each other for the rest of the day. Even though normal life had only been gone for a short period of time, Dianne could scarcely remember anything about it. The smell of a fresh-brewed cup of coffee, the warmth of her husband’s embrace, the ploddingly slow life of the residents of the town and the security of not knowing what it was like to kill and bury multiple people were all foreign to her. The worst part of it all, she had started to realize, wasn’t that she couldn’t remember what those things were like. It was that she was growing numb to not knowing what they were like.
“What’s up, kiddo?” She rolled over in the bed and swung her feet over the side, feeling sick from having slept for less than an hour. Mark and Tina were on watch while everyone else tried to rest, but as Dianne woke up and recognized the stress in Mark?
??s voice, she grew more and more concerned.
“The cameras have gone dark.”
“…what?” Dianne rubbed one eye and yawned, certain that she misheard her son.
“The cameras have gone dark!” His voice was still at a whisper, but the way in which he said it sent chills down her spine.
“What do you mean, gone dark?” She was fully awake, moving into a standing position and grabbing her rifle.
“The only ones that are working are on that side of the house.” He pointed to the east.
“Where’s the tablet?”
“I’ve got it here, Dianne.” Tina came walking into the room, the concern on her face a mirror of Mark’s. She handed the tablet to Dianne and Dianne tapped on the images. Of the several cameras that had been set up on the house, only two of them were working while the rest displayed “No Signal” messages.
“When did this start?” Dianne asked as she fiddled with the settings on the tablet.
“Less than five minutes ago,” Tina replied. “We thought it was a glitch at first but we couldn’t get it fixed.”
“Not good.” Dianne shook her head. “Have you spotted anything outside?”
“Nothing.” Tina shook her head. “No sight or sound of anyone or anything. Couldn’t it just be a problem in the wiring or something?”
“On all these cameras on just these sides of the house? No way.” Dianne passed the tablet back to Mark. “Keep an eye on the cameras and radio me the second you see anything. Tina, get everyone else awake. I want everyone getting ready for another attack. Jacob and Josie need to get into the basement with someone.”
Tina nodded in confirmation and hurried off to wake the others. Once she was gone, Dianne turned to Mark. “Get to the windows overlooking the driveway. Don’t expose yourself, though. The curtains should still be drawn so crawl in and peek through a crack. If they come from any direction, it’s probably going to be from that one. If you see that it’s clear, give me three clicks on the radio, okay?”
“Where are you going, mom?”
“I need to get outside and get an eye on the dead cameras to see what’s going on with them.”
“Be careful, mom.”
Dianne nodded, patted Mark on the back and slipped down the stairs. She waited at the front door for several seconds before hearing three slow, steady clicks through her radio. With a racing heart and a deep breath she cracked the front door and peered out into the darkness. The house had only a few low lights on inside so her eyes needed no adjustment to the outside, and as she scanned the driveway and woods visible through the door she confirmed Mark’s signal.
Here goes nothing. Dianne pulled open the door and stepped onto the porch, raising her rifle and preparing herself for the sudden barrage of gunfire she expected to encounter. When none came, though, she closed the door behind her and walked slowly across the porch, each step ticking softly on the wooden slats.
The night was colder than the last, and she could see frost sparkling in the moonlight, dancing on the few blades of grass and on the edges of the leaves. A faint, light wind blew through the barren branches, causing thin, reedy shadows to wave, each one catching Dianne’s peripheral vision and making her flinch as she wondered which would turn out to be a person.
The minutes slowly ticked by with no signs of anyone, though, and Dianne finally worked up the nerve to step off of the porch and out into the drive. She looked upward as she stepped out, craning her neck and straining her eyes to catch a glimpse of one of the security cameras that they had rigged on the upper corner of the house. She walked around for a moment, trying to find the small silver device in the shadows of the eaves when her foot collided with something on the ground. There was a sound of metal scraping against stone and dirt as the object skidded several inches across the gravel and she looked down, resisting the temptation to flick on her flashlight as she didn’t want to draw any attention to herself.
Dianne squatted down and plucked the object from the ground, turning it over in her hand as she tried to figure out what it was. While it had the color of steel, it was lightweight, and several cracks passed through its center along with a long, slender object that was jagged and sharp at one end. She flipped the object over once more and saw three black screws hanging off of the side, then suddenly realized what she was staring at.
The security camera had been pulled or shot down from its place high on the edge of the house, and it had suffered greatly in its fall. The silver plastic case was broken and the electronics and lens inside were broken beyond repair. While Dianne recognized the camera itself soon enough, the long shaft passing through the middle of it vexed her until she nearly cut her finger on its sharp, jagged, uneven end.
