Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 57184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57184 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
They’ll head straight for town and treat it like their personal all-you-can-eat people buffet.
I grab my cell from my pocket and call 911. Maybe I can warn them.
The line is busy, so I try again. Then again. Still busy. Whatever’s happening out there, I’m too late.
I wait for hours in the tub, white-knuckling my shotgun. I don’t know if I’m more afraid of the creatures already on my property or the ones that’ll come in the night. When the Blood People get here, we’ll be completely fucked. Why? Because while Monsterland is filled with hungry creatures, most aren’t very smart.
The Blood People are smart.
And they sound just like us—“Nothing to fear. I’m here to help. Come out and we’ll get you to safety,” they’ll say, knowing how to hunt, corner, and catch us. We’ll be completely caught off guard.
I’ve been trying to save my cell battery, but every few hours, I attempt to reach Grandma Rain. I get her voicemail every time and tell her to stay on the ship. Stay indoors, too. I assure her I have a plan and not to panic.
I end the call and open my browser. New York, LA, Stockholm, London, Buenos Aires. They’ve all been invaded. People are being told to stay home and barricade their doors—the governments are coming up with a plan.
My eyes scan the newest article from the morons at MSNBN. “The UN is attempting to negotiate? Are they stupid?”
The article says some of the creatures are intelligent and can be reasoned with.
“No! You can’t reason with them. They…” My voice fades off. I’m sitting in the bathroom, talking to myself.
Scratch. Scratch.
My eyes whip to the bathroom door. I hold my breath and squeeze my fingers around the shotgun, which will do absolutely no good against thousands of knife-wielding carnivores the size of a grain of rice.
Scratch, scratch.
Okay. That’s not a troll. If it were, they’d come in under the door. If it’s something large, I can take it on.
I tiptoe out of the tub and get my shotgun ready. I unlock the door and jerk it open, lowering my weapon in one fell swoop.
Looking up at me is a black and white polka-dotted Great Dane.
“Master? What the hell are you doing here?” He’s supposed to be hiding. I dive down and wrap one arm around his neck.
“Lake, why are you in the bathroom with a shotgun?”
I look up, and hovering over me in jeans and a red flannel shirt is Bard. My mouth falls open.
“Is that rat back? I told you I’d set the traps. And I really don’t advise shooting a gun inside the house.”
“Bard? Wha-wha-what are you doing here?”
He gives me a funny look. “Did you hit your head?”
I step out into the hall and hug him tight. He’s warm and breathing. Am I dreaming?
He gently pushes me off.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
Unable to speak, I look around the hallway. This looks like my grandma’s mansion, but the floors are shiny and polished. The plaster isn’t cracked. It even smells clean. No mold.
“Let me take that.” Bard swipes the gun from my hands and urges me to come with him. “Let’s get you sitting down.”
He takes me to the parlor, which is beautiful and bright. The ceiling has no water stains. The books aren’t rotting on the shelves. There’s a fire crackling in the pristine, soot-free fireplace. I sit on a couch with golden tapestry. It’s an antique but in perfect condition.
“I’ll get you some water. Stay right there.”
I don’t know what’s happening. I mean, I do, but I don’t know how I changed things.
Master comes and sits at my feet.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper. “You’re supposed to be hiding.”
He stares but doesn’t do much more.
“So we’re back to this?” I hiss. “Can’t you at least nod?”
Bard returns, and when he does, he takes my breath away. The blue, blue eyes. The strong jaw and wide shoulders. He’s a little less gray, but his thick dark hair is down to his shoulders. His beard isn’t a bushy mess either. It’s neatly groomed.
“I thought you weren’t speaking to Master after he dug up your favorite rose bush?” He hands me a glass of water.
“Bard, you have to tell me what’s going on. Do we win? Do you win? Did the wall fall? Is it over?” Because if the wall was defended, then there’s no way he can be here right now. “What happened to all the monsters?”
“Lake, are you sure you’re okay? Is it the hormones? I know the doctor said you’d be a little moody but…”
I look down. My stomach is huge. I gasp and push back into the couch. “When did that happen?”
“Uh, eight months ago. What the hell is going on, Lake?” He sounds like he’s losing his patience. That, or I’m freaking him the hell out.