Chapter 12
Night pressed down on the mall like a suffocating blanket. Inside the makeshift camp in the center, people lay rigid on their thin bedding, eyes wide open in the near-total darkness.
Sleep was impossible.
Every nerve screamed, knowing the dog-like monsters were out there, circling their fragile sanctuary.
Outside, shifting shadows cast by the weak moonlight filtering through high, grimy skylights.
The thick glass windows at ground level were completely blocked, turning the mall into a sealed, shadowy tomb.
Scratching sounds, like claws on concrete, echoed faintly from beyond the barricaded entrances.
Low, guttural snuffling noises followed, as if the creatures were pressing their muzzles against the cracks under the doors, sniffing intently for any trace of the humans inside.
The air carried the faint, hot, rotten-meat odor of the hounds. Then, a chorus of high-pitched, alien shrieks ripped through the night, chilling the blood of everyone huddled inside.
The sound was answered by distant, frantic gunfire and human screams, coming from somewhere deeper in the ruined city.
A battle was being fought, and lost, out there in the dark.
Inside, people were trembling violently. A child burrowed deeper into her mother's arms, her small body shaking, a muffled whimper escaping her lips.
The mother held her tighter, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps, her knuckles white where she gripped her daughter.
Nearby, an old lady clutched a small metal cross, her lips moving silently in fervent prayer, the faintest whisper of words lost in the oppressive silence.
Suddenly, a sound unlike any other shook the very foundations of the mall and the city beyond. It started as a deep, resonant groan, vibrating up through the floor and into their chest cavities, rattling teeth.
It swelled into an immense, mournful, whale-like bellow that echoed across the landscape, loud and terrifying.
It wasn't just heard; it was felt, a primal sound that spoke of something colossal and terrifying stepping onto the ravaged earth.
Before the terrifying echo faded, the ground beneath them convulsed violently. A deep, groaning roar rose from the earth as a powerful earthquake ripped through the city.
It was a brutal echo of the morning's cataclysm, but somehow worse, amplified by the darkness and the chilling cry that preceded it.
The mall groaned in protest; distant crashes echoed as unseen displays toppled. Families clung to each other, bracing against the tremors. Children are trying to scream, but their parents are holding their mouths shut.
Some survivors sat bolt upright, faces pale masks of terror in the dark, instinctively looking around, trying to pierce the darkness for the source of the new horror.
Arnold's low whisper, urgent hiss, cut through the chaos of noise and fear. "Down! Everyone down! Lay flat and stay quiet!" he commanded from his position on the floor.
"Don't move! Don't let them know we're here!" His voice was strained but firm, cutting through the panic.
They obeyed instantly, pressing themselves back onto the cold floor, pulling blankets over their heads, trying to make themselves invisible.
The monstrous bellow echoed again, a sound of profound, alien sorrow or rage that seemed to shake the stars.
The distant gunfire ceased abruptly the moment the earthquake subsided, leaving an even more profound and terrifying silence.
There was nothing to do but wait. Wait in the suffocating darkness, listening to the chilling whale-song of the unseen titan and the scrabbling, sniffing noises of the hounds outside. Sleep was a distant dream.
Some stared into the darkness. Others squeezed their eyes shut, trying to block out the sounds.
Many remained awake all night, their bodies tense, their minds racing with terror, listening to the haunting sounds that filled the night.
Only as the first, thin grey light of a bleak dawn began to dilute the absolute blackness of the sky did the unearthly wailing finally cease. The silence that followed was almost as heavy as the fear in their hearts.