Wayward Pines: The Widow Lindley (Kindle Worlds Novella) by F. Paul Wilson Read Free Book Online

he could trust Karla to have his back, whereas he’d be
afraid to turn his back on Pam.
    When dark had fallen they’d taken turns at watch—shotguns
ready, fire burning bright.

    Ethan nudged Karla. She snapped upright and looked as if she
were about to speak when he pressed a finger over her lips and leaned into her
ear.
    “Something out there,” he said in the tiniest whisper he
could manage.
    “Abby?” she whispered into his.
    He shrugged. They’d know soon enough.
    The fire had burned low. Flames still flickered in the
embers but shed little light. The outcrop limited their visual field to about
120 degrees, but keeping to the rear of the space beneath offered them the
tactical advantage of protection from rear or flanking attack. The only way for
an abby or anything else to reach them was a direct frontal assault.
    Karla sat to his right, shotgun ready. They’d agreed earlier
that each would take the responsibility of covering half the field. If
something charged from the left, Ethan would take it while Karla stayed focused
on the right, and vice versa. This would prevent them from falling victim to a
diversion.
    He had the flashlight tucked lens-first inside his shirt for
easy access. Despite the cold, his palms grew sweaty on the Winchester. This
was where the rubber met the road. Kill or be killed. He didn’t know how
coordinated these two abbies might be—and he prayed they still numbered only
two. Christ, if they’d added others…
    No sense in borrowing trouble. Plenty of that to go around
as it was. They weren’t dealing with animals acting on pure instinct here. Abbies
were degenerate humans but still had good-size brains. As predatory carnivores,
they hunted in packs—not too long ago he’d been the intended prey of a small
pack—and he had no doubt this mating pair had plenty of experience hunting
together. They probably had some well-practiced strategies of attack.
    Then, a little to the left, another twig crack—no, multiple
simultaneous cracks, followed by a screech. Not a signal, not a battle cry…
this sounded like pain.
    “Got him!” Karla cried, raising her shotgun but keeping it
aimed right as agreed.
    Ethan listened to the thrashing and snarls and grunts,
trying to locate the source in the darkness. He wanted to pull out the
flashlight for a better view but dared not let go of his weapon.
    After ten or fifteen seconds the sounds faded.
    Karla said, “Well, I guess we can figure one of them’s
down—not down -down but limping and gimping.”
    “But which one, do you think? I’ve been assuming a mating
pair. The male or the female?”
    “I don’t see that it matters,” Karla went on, “If they’re a
pair, they’ll stick together, which means the hurt one’s going to slow them
both down. By the way, did you see any glowing eyes out there?”
    “No, why?”
    “Most animals have reflective eyes. I’d have thought the
firelight—”
    “They’re not animals, remember?” Ethan explained. “They’re
us. Or rather, what we’ll become.”
    “Oh. Right. Haven’t quite got my head around that yet.”
    She shifted to a crouch and began to move toward the opening.
    “You’re not thinking of going after it?”
    A bitter laugh. “In the dark?” Karla grabbed some of the
spare twigs and tossed them onto the fire. “I may have a huge blank spot in my
past, but it didn’t leave me stupid. But at first light, we’re on the hunt. Big
time.”

    Light arrived long before the sun could clear the
mountaintops. They came out from beneath the outcrop into the glow of a cold,
crystalline blue sky.
    Karla grabbed a four-foot branch and Ethan followed her
along the safe path marked by the double sticks. He was checking out the needle
carpet to their left when he spotted a scuffed-up area.
    “I see it.”
    He hurried over and stopped before a small pit, two feet
across and almost as deep. It had been hidden with a rough mesh of twigs
covered by pine needles. Two slim, wickedly sharp