Wayward ➳ Edward Cullen

3. Suspicions

Meaning they'd been elderly. I nodded and reached under the seat for my gun. I tucked it into my waistband before grabbing my backpack. Sam was already reaching for the shotgun, so I shoved the door open and hopped down. "We should set up a watch tonight," I said as Sam's door opened, his sneakers hitting the pavement a moment later.

"Yeah," he agreed, glancing over the top of the truck's hood, shotgun tucked at his side beneath his jacket.

"I'll take first shift," I decided as we walked up to the door. That'd give Sam more rest.

Sam nodded his acceptance, and we both took up defensive positions before unlocking the front door. A glance at the floor showed the saltline hadn't been disturbed. Even so, we brought out our weapons before stepping inside. It took fifteen minutes to sweep through the house.

We found nothing.

I was starting to regret not staying at a motel. One room with a connecting bathroom would've been far easier to secure.

It was a long night given the little sleep I'd had the night before. We decided to take turns sleeping on the couch. Later that evening, after Sam went to sleep, I decided to try finishing my homework. The frustration helped keep me awake. Little of it made any sense. The books weren't like any of the other texts from the past four schools I'd been to that year, and I was pretty sure Government and Algebra were further ahead of where my last school had been.

Still, I was determined not to fail and redo the year. I muddled my way through the reading and answered what I could. I did better in English. The first few chapters of Wuthering Heights weren't as bad as I'd feared. The review questions were tedious, though.

It was three in the morning by the time I was done. But I was caught up. I woke Sam before wearily collapsing onto the sofa. Despite the less then ideal sleeping arrangement, I was out within minutes.

[ = = = ]

The next few days went the same way. Wasn't until four days after the incident in my room, while we were halfway through our microwaved dinners, that one of the burner phones rang.

Sam and I exchanged a glance before I answered. "Hello?"

"Sarah."

The knot that had been sitting in my stomach unwound a little bit at Dad's voice. "Hey dad." Sam set his fork down as I leaned back in my chair. "Did you get my message?"

"Just now. We're close enough to civilization for cell reception. You two alright?"

"Fine."

"Tell me exactly what happened," he ordered.

Straightening up, I told him about the intruder. "It hasn't been back since. And we haven't seen anything in the papers or on the news."

Dad was quiet for half a minute. "What did it look like?"

"Human, I think. I didn't get a good enough look to say for sure. It was too dark to see much."

"You did fine, Sarah. But I'm sending your brother back to keep an eye on things. He should be there tomorrow evening."

Sending Dean to babysit us would leave Dad all alone in the wilderness with something that had taken out eight people. "He doesn't need to. I can handle it." My hand tightened on the phone.

Silence reigned on the other end.

"Seriously. Sam and I are fine. No one's dropped dead. You and Dean keep on the thing actually killing people. Besides, it seemed spooked when I shot it. Hasn't been back since. Could even be dead."