The morning after the avalanche, everything was eerily still. The mansion was surrounded by thick walls of snow, nearly reaching the second-floor windows, and there was no way to tell what time of day it was by looking outside. The world was a featureless sea of white, with only the faintest hint of light breaking through the swirling clouds. George rubbed his hands together, his breath visible in the frosty air even inside the house. They had survived the night, but the blizzard was far from over.
The group gathered around the fire, everyone bundled up in whatever they could find, trying to stave off the creeping cold that had already infiltrated the mansion.
"We need to figure something out," Raven muttered, pulling her jacket tighter around her. "The fire's barely doing anything anymore, and it feels like the temperature's dropping by the minute."
"We're not going to last long if this keeps up," George agreed, his voice low. He glanced out the window, though all he could see was snow piled against the glass. "We're completely snowed in."
Marcy, sitting by the fire with her cup of tea, nodded grimly. "It's worse than I thought. If we don't start rationing our food and fuel, we'll run out before the storm passes."
"Not to mention the wood," Elijah added, looking at the rapidly dwindling pile beside the fireplace. "We need to start gathering more before it's too late."
The mood in the room was tense. The weight of the situation was pressing down on everyone, and the relentless cold only made it worse. George could see the worry etched on everyone's faces, Marcy's concern for the younger ones, Raven's determined frown, and Lucy's restless pacing. Even Bear seemed uneasy, whining softly as he lay by the fire, his nose tucked under his paws.
George stood, shaking the stiffness from his limbs. "We need to figure out a way to survive the next few days. Raven, Lucy, and I will head out and gather more wood. Everyone else, stay inside and make sure the fire keeps going."
As they bundled up and prepared to face the storm, Grace suddenly spoke up, her voice quiet but filled with dread. "There's something else out there."
The group turned to her, confused.
"I've heard those sounds before," Grace whispered, her eyes wide and fearful. "When I was with my father... he used to tell me about the demons that lived in the storm."
George raised an eyebrow. "Demons?"
Grace nodded, her voice trembling. "He said they were ancient, older than the world itself. He said they rode in on storms like this one, bringing death and destruction. I didn't believe him back then... but now..."
The room fell silent, her words hanging in the cold air like a specter. George wasn't sure if he believed in ancient demons, but after everything they had seen, he wasn't ready to dismiss it outright either.
"We'll keep an eye out," he said, trying to reassure her. "But right now, we need to focus on getting more firewood."
The cold hit George like a punch to the gut the moment he stepped outside. The wind howled around them, carrying with it a biting chill that cut straight through his layers of clothing. The snow was waist-deep, and every step felt like wading through quicksand. Raven and Lucy followed close behind, their faces red from the cold, their breaths coming out in visible puffs.
The mansion loomed behind them, its windows frosted over, and George couldn't help but feel like they were walking into a frozen wasteland. The trees, once full of life, were now bent and brittle under the weight of the snow. The world around them was unnaturally still, save for the howling wind.
They reached the woodpile near the tree line and immediately got to work, chopping logs and stacking them as quickly as they could. But even as they worked, George couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them. Every few minutes, he would glance over his shoulder, half-expecting to see something lurking in the shadows.
"What's with you?" Lucy asked, noticing his nervous glances. "You've been acting weird since we got out here."
"I don't know," George admitted, his voice barely audible over the wind. "Something just doesn't feel right."
Raven stopped chopping for a moment and looked around, her brow furrowed. "You feel it too?"
Lucy rolled her eyes, trying to brush off their concerns. "Come on, guys, it's just the storm. We've been cooped up inside for too long. Let's just get this done and get back before we freeze."
But as they continued gathering wood, the unsettling feeling grew stronger. The wind seemed to carry faint whispers, and the air felt charged with something... unnatural.
Suddenly, Lucy froze, her eyes locked on a spot further into the forest. "What the hell is that?"
George and Raven turned, following her gaze. At first, George didn't see anything, but then... there it was. Movement. Slow, deliberate movement through the trees. Large, hulking shapes moving too fluidly to be just snow or debris.
And then they heard it.
The most horrifying, high-pitched shriek George had ever heard. It wasn't just loud, it was the kind of sound that burrowed into your skull, rattling your brain and freezing your heart. It was the sound of pure terror, primal and unnatural. It echoed through the trees, cutting through the wind like a razor. George's blood ran cold, and for a split second, he thought his heart might stop from the sheer terror of it.
"What the, " Lucy started, but another shriek interrupted her, louder this time.
Raven grabbed George's arm. "We need to go. Now."
They didn't wait to hear another shriek. The three of them abandoned the woodpile and began trudging back toward the mansion as fast as they could, their hearts racing and their breaths coming in ragged gasps. But the shrieks followed them, growing louder and closer with every step.
And then, through the swirling snow, George saw them.
The frozen corpses. Bodies from the avalanche, refugees who had been caught in the storm, were slowly rising from the snow, their skin covered in frost, their eyes glowing an icy blue. The corpses moved with an unnatural jerking motion, their limbs stiff from the cold but still capable of terrifying speed.
The sight of them sent a wave of nausea through George. These weren't normal zombies. They were something much worse.
One of the corpses opened its mouth, and another bone-chilling shriek tore through the air, making George's ears ring.
"Run!" Raven shouted, and the three of them broke into a sprint.
George's heart pounded in his chest as they raced back toward the mansion, the frozen corpses closing in behind them. He could hear the soft thud of their boots sinking into the snow with every step, but it was drowned out by the constant, horrifying shrieks that followed them like a deathly wail.
"They're catching up!" Lucy yelled, glancing over her shoulder at the horde of frozen zombies that moved with a terrifying speed through the snow.
George didn't need to look back. He could feel them getting closer, the air around them growing colder with every passing second. His lungs burned from the freezing air, but he pushed on, desperate to reach the safety of the mansion.
Raven reached the back door first, throwing it open as George and Lucy stumbled inside, slamming it shut behind them. They leaned against the door, panting, as the shrieks continued outside, louder than ever.
"We need to barricade this!" Raven said, her voice sharp as she grabbed a nearby chair and wedged it against the door.
George nodded, his mind racing as he glanced around for anything else they could use. But the moment of calm was shattered by the sound of something smashing against the window. One of the frozen corpses had reached the mansion, its icy blue eyes glaring in at them, its teeth bared in a grotesque grin.
"They're going to break through!" Raven shouted, her voice filled with urgency.
George wasted no time. "Upstairs! We'll have a better angle from the second-floor windows!"
The three of them sprinted up the stairs, nearly tripping over one another in their rush to get to the upper level. They could hear the chilling high-pitched shrieks of the frozen zombies echoing from outside, the sound so terrifying it made their hearts race uncontrollably. It wasn't just the cold anymore, it was the primal fear that came with those unnatural, soul-piercing screams.
Marcy and the others were already upstairs, standing by the windows and trying to get a clear view of the advancing horde. The frozen corpses, with their glowing blue eyes, were climbing the walls, their icy hands digging into the stone and wood, pulling themselves upward with unnatural strength.
"They're climbing!" Lucy exclaimed, grabbing her flamethrower and aiming at one of the windows.
Marcy, ever resourceful, held up a glass bottle stuffed with a rag. "I found some leftover booze in the cellar. Thought I'd make a few Molotovs."
George blinked at her, impressed. "You're a damn genius, Marcy."
She gave him a grim smile. "Let's just hope it works."
With the sounds of glass breaking and zombies clawing at the walls, Marcy lit the rag, took a deep breath, and threw the Molotov cocktail out the window. It shattered on impact, bursting into flames and setting several of the climbing corpses ablaze. The fire crackled and hissed, and the zombies let out an ear-splitting shriek as the flames consumed them.
"That'll slow them down," Marcy muttered, already preparing another one.
From their vantage point on the second floor, George, Raven, and Lucy had a clearer view of the chaos unfolding outside. The frozen corpses were swarming the mansion, their glowing eyes a sinister reflection of the storm's dark magic. The snow was piled so high around the house that some of the zombies were able to use it to reach the roof, clawing their way toward the upper windows.
"Get ready!" George shouted, aiming his rifle at one of the windows. "They're almost inside!"
Lucy positioned herself by the window, flamethrower at the ready. The moment one of the zombies smashed through the glass, she unleashed a blast of fire, the heat momentarily warming the freezing room. The zombie let out a blood-curdling shriek as it was engulfed in flames, flailing wildly before it fell back into the snow.
"We've got more coming!" Raven yelled, pointing toward the roof, where several more frozen corpses were climbing up the side of the house. They were relentless, their icy fingers clawing at the walls with unnatural strength. One of them grabbed the ledge of the window, pulling itself up, its glowing eyes locking onto George.
"Not today!" George shouted, firing a shot from his rifle. The bullet hit the zombie in the head, but it barely slowed down. The only thing that seemed to stop them was fire.
"Flamethrowers and Molotovs!" George ordered, grabbing a bottle from Marcy and lighting it.
As another frozen corpse climbed up the side of the house, George threw the Molotov cocktail directly at it. The bottle shattered, and the flames roared to life, swallowing the zombie in a blaze of fire. The creature's screams echoed through the storm, its icy body melting as the fire consumed it.
But for every one they took down, more seemed to appear. The horde was endless, and the storm's icy wind carried the haunting shrieks of the undead, sending chills down their spines. The cold was so intense that even with the fire roaring inside, the heat barely reached them.
"George, they're everywhere!" Lucy called out, her voice shaking as she fired another burst of flame through the window.
"I know!" George shouted back, throwing another Molotov out the window and watching as it exploded in a burst of fiery destruction.
They fought with everything they had, but the frozen zombies were relentless. The group retreated further into the mansion, sealing off as many doors and windows as they could. Marcy kept making Molotovs, throwing them with precision and setting more of the creatures ablaze. The air outside was thick with smoke and ash, but still, the horde kept coming.
George, panting heavily, turned to Raven. "How many more of these things are there?"
"I don't know, but we can't keep this up forever!" Raven replied, her eyes wide with fear and determination.
Suddenly, the house shook, and a deafening crash echoed from below. One of the zombies had broken through a barricaded window downstairs. George's heart raced as he realized that they were running out of time. They couldn't hold off the horde forever, and the mansion was quickly becoming overrun.
"We need a plan!" Marcy shouted over the chaos, tossing another Molotov.
"We can't just stay up here!" Lucy added, torching another zombie.
George's mind raced. They had to act fast, or they'd all be overwhelmed. He took a deep breath, wiping sweat and snow from his brow, his mind scrambling for a solution. The storm outside wasn't just bringing snow, it was bringing death. They had to stop the wave of frozen corpses, or the mansion, and everyone inside it, would be lost.
"Form a firing squad," George barked. "Tobias, Elijah, Thomas, cover the girls. We'll hold them back long enough for them to burn these bastards."
The men sprang into action, quickly taking positions by the second-floor windows. They were armed with rifles, their hands shaking from both the cold and adrenaline. George's heart pounded in his chest as he raised his rifle, the feel of the icy metal heavy in his grip. The sight outside was pure chaos, dozens of frozen corpses with glowing blue eyes, clawing their way up the walls, their eerie shrieks filling the air.
"Take aim!" George shouted, the sound of the wind nearly drowning out his voice. "Fire!"
The crack of gunfire echoed through the mansion as George, Tobias, Elijah, and Thomas opened fire. Bullets pierced the icy flesh of the zombies, but they barely slowed down. Some of them fell, only to rise again moments later, their movements even more erratic and violent than before.
"They're not staying down!" Elijah called out, his voice strained as he reloaded his rifle.
"Doesn't matter! Keep firing!" George shouted back, his breath fogging in the freezing air.
Behind them, the girls worked quickly, lighting Molotov cocktails and getting the flamethrowers ready. Marcy, Raven, Lucy, Heather, and Madison moved like a well-oiled machine, each one focused on their task, knowing that failure wasn't an option.
"Ready?" Marcy called out, holding a lit Molotov.
"Do it!" George replied.
Marcy hurled the first bottle out the window. It sailed through the air, crashing into the horde below with a burst of flame. The fire spread quickly, engulfing several zombies at once. Their high-pitched shrieks grew louder, almost unbearable, as they writhed in the flames.
"Keep them coming!" George shouted, firing another round into the advancing horde.
Raven and Lucy took turns with the flamethrowers, shooting arcs of fire through the windows, burning the zombies as they tried to climb the walls. The heat from the flames was intense, and for a moment, it seemed like they might actually stand a chance.
But the horde was relentless. For every frozen corpse they burned or shot, more took its place. The storm's dark magic kept them coming, stronger and faster than before.
"They just keep coming!" Thomas yelled, his voice cracking under the strain.
George's arms ached from the weight of the rifle, but he kept firing, his mind racing as he tried to figure out how much longer they could hold on. His body was screaming for rest, but he couldn't stop, not when the lives of everyone in the mansion were at stake.
"We're running low on ammo!" Tobias called out from his position near the far window. "I'm down to my last few rounds!"
Marcy hurled another Molotov out the window, her arms trembling from the effort. "I'm out of bottles after this!"
Lucy's flamethrower sputtered, running low on fuel. She swore under her breath and tossed it aside, grabbing the last of their makeshift explosives. "We're almost out of fire too!"
The mansion shook as another wave of zombies slammed into the walls, their shrieks growing louder and more frenzied. The sound was so high-pitched, so unnatural, it felt like it was tearing through their minds.
George could feel the pressure building, the overwhelming sense that they were running out of time. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with the freezing air and snow. They couldn't keep this up much longer. The horde was closing in, and they were nearly out of options.
"We need a miracle," George muttered under his breath as he fired his last round.
Just as he said it, the last of Marcy's Molotovs exploded, taking out a large group of zombies at once. The flames roared to life, and for a brief moment, there was silence. The horde seemed to hesitate, the remaining zombies standing still as if confused.
But it was only a momentary reprieve.
More shrieks echoed from the distance, and the glow of blue eyes appeared through the storm. The next wave was coming, and this time, they were completely out of ammo, Molotovs, and firepower.
"Fall back!" George ordered, his voice hoarse. "We need to regroup!"
The group stumbled back from the windows, their bodies aching and their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The mansion's defenses were crumbling, and they were nearly defenseless.
As the group retreated into the inner rooms of the mansion, George couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning. The storm had brought the dead to life, and whatever was controlling it wasn't going to stop until they were all dead.
"Everyone okay?" George asked, his voice tight as they gathered in the hallway.
Raven nodded, though she looked exhausted. Lucy slumped against the wall, her eyes wide with fear. Marcy was breathing hard, her hands shaking as she set down the empty crate of Molotov supplies.
"We're alive," Marcy said, her voice cracking slightly. "But we're out of everything."
George's mind raced, searching for a solution. "We'll have to get creative if we're going to survive the next wave."
Elijah, wiping sweat from his brow, shook his head grimly. "We're sitting ducks without ammo or fire."
Tobias, leaning heavily against the wall, nodded in agreement. "It's only a matter of time before they break through."
George looked around at the weary, battered faces of his friends, his family. They had survived the worst of it, but the storm was still out there, and something far darker was pulling the strings. Whatever was coming next, it wasn't going to be just more zombies.
"We can't let them win," George said, his voice firm despite the exhaustion. "We'll find a way. We always do."
As he spoke, the wind howled louder outside, the storm swirling around the mansion like a malevolent force. George knew that this wasn't over, not by a long shot. But as long as they stuck together, they stood a fighting chance.