King of the Mountain by M. K. Wren

King of the Mountain by M. K. Wren

Author:M. K. Wren [Wren, M. K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: Untreed Reads
Published: 2015-01-15T00:00:00+00:00


Chapter 16

“What is happening out there? What is happening?”

Conan turned, found Loanh beside him at the top of the stairs, and in her eyes, as dark and unblinking as a startled deer’s, he saw the same fear he felt.

It was an irrational thing, this fear, and he knew the last time he had felt anything like it was when he was a child, when he could still believe in phenomena that defied the laws of nature.

Yet that was a human voice he heard pleading for help, and he knew on a rational level that the fists beating at the door were also human, even though he couldn’t begin to explain—rationally—how any being, human or otherwise, came to be knocking at that door in the midst of a blizzard.

Conan hurried down the stairs, with Loanh behind him, and the atrium was suddenly crowded as the family rushed out of the living room. Then they all stopped, breathlessly silent, facing the door.

The pounding and the cries ceased momentarily, and Will said, “Jesus, who could be out there in that storm?”

The pounding resumed, and Tiff loosed a thin shriek and reached for her husband, nearly knocking him off his crutches.

Conan moved toward the door. “We’d better ask him—or her, as the case may be.” Will nodded, stood with his feet planted, ready to do battle with whatever came through the door when Conan opened it.

In a white, frigid blast of wind, a man in camouflage-patterned pants and hooded parka, his beard and eyebrows encrusted with snow, staggered into the atrium. When Conan closed the door, the man sagged against it, gasped through chattering teeth, “Oh, shit, I was afraid nobody was home….”

Confronted with this tangibly human being, Conan’s fear gave way to reined exhilaration. He couldn’t explain it, but he was convinced that this stranger came bearing answers. Still, he only glanced at the man, then focused on the family.

What he saw were various degrees of shock and fear, which masked any sign of recognition. When the man pushed his hood back, Tiff gasped, but Conan couldn’t be sure whether that was anything more than typical theatrics. From the living room came Heather’s weak attempt at barking, and Lise hurried away to check on her. The others didn’t seem aware of her departure.

Will was first to speak: “What were you doing out in this storm? Where’d you come from? Who the hell are you?”

“Name’s Jerry Tuttle,” the man said in a rasping voice, wiping the snow from his face with a gloved hand. “I’m from Salem. Came up for the weekend to do some hunting. Hey, I’m sorry to scare you folks, but I got caught in the storm. My Bronco’s on the highway by the bridge. I saw the sign on your gate, and I figured I could make it half a mile to the house. Damn, I could sure use something warm to drink.”

Will seemed to remember himself then. He took Tuttle’s arm and aimed him for the stairs. “You need more than that.



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