Free Hunger (The Hunger Series Book 1) by Jeremiah Knight Page B

a basement? But this wasn’t just any garage door. It was thick and solid, windowless steel. Like the basement door. Jakob was pushing it up, but only with the help of grinding gears. As the door rose higher, the lights began to fade, sucking the remaining battery life to raise the heavy slab of metal.
    Footsteps spun her around. It was Peter—she hoped—coming down the stairs. The booming footfalls were chased by a warbling shriek she recognized, and it made the tiny spires of hair atop her head prickle. Anne took hold of her hand and squeezed. Ella reached her free hand down for her machete, but it wasn’t there. The weapon was still outside, laying in a heap with all the clothing and supplies that had taken her this far.
    Peter, wearing a single backpack, leapt into the basement, spinning around and slamming the metal door shut, but not before three long, brown, talon-tipped fingers reached through and pushed. Peter started sliding back, but before the Stalker could open the door wide enough to enter, Peter shoved his shotgun into the stairwell and pulled the trigger. The cacophonous boom was followed by a wailing shriek. The brown fingers snapped back as the force of the shot shoved the creature back into the stairwell.
    Peter moved to shut the metal door again, but his eyes went wide, and he dove to the side instead. The metal door smashed open, clanging against the stairwell wall. A female Stalker hit the floor awkwardly, falling sideways and slamming into the wall. The stunned creature looked like all the others Ella had seen, its once human face lacking a nose. Black eyes blinked. Its long tail thrashed back and forth, rattling, guiding the others no doubt already flooding into the house. Its long arms and legs scrabbled at the smooth floor, claws digging gouges.
    Before the monster could right itself, Peter, who had turned his dive into a roll, came up, spun around and pulled the shotgun trigger again. The Stalker’s head was turned inside out and splattered against the wall. Peter turned and ran as the lights dimmed to almost nothing. Screeching and thundering footsteps chased him from the stairwell. Ella saw them emerge a moment before the lights went out. The grinding gears stopped.
    For a moment, the world was just sound. Jakob moving behind her, breathing hard. Peter feeling his way through the wide open space. The Stalkers, smashing everything around them. Screaming for their prey. Giving chase. While Peter couldn’t see, the Stalkers had excellent night vision. When the lights went out, the basement became the perfect hunting ground for the nocturnal predators.
    A flashlight came on with a click. The light cut through the darkness from Peter’s position.
    “How much time?” Peter shouted.
    “Ten seconds behind,” Jakob replied. Ella glanced back. On the other side of the mostly open garage door was a large Dodge Ram, reinforced with plates of metal, and covered in spikes and barb wire. It looked like something from a Mad Max movie. Jakob had the door open and was helping Anne climb into the back seat.
    When Jakob leaned over the front seat and turned the key, the truck roared to life, its rear lights casting beams of red. Ella looked back to Peter. He was just thirty feet away, waving her on. But he wasn’t alone. A single Stalker had closed the distance, nearly within striking range. The rest were still fifty feet back, clumsily careening through the maze of contents in the room.
    “Look out!” Ella shouted, as the nearest Stalker leaped forward, its long legs extended, claws open wide.
    Peter dove forward, flipping over to land and slide on his back. He brought the shotgun up, fired—and missed. Instead of putting a hole in the Stalker, he simply took a chunk out of the ceiling. The Stalker landed on Peter’s arms, pinning them to his sides. With a snarl that revealed its gleaming white teeth—now pink in the truck’s light—the Stalker lunged for Peter’s neck.
    With a war cry, Ella