One Deadly Night

Three

A collapsible lantern glowed softly creating eerie shadows in the tiny enclosure.

"A-are you going to die?" Skye whispered as her pink mitten rubbed her grandfather's forehead.

The balding man coughed and sputtered for a moment before answering. "Not if I can help it."

Skye nodded and settled down beside him.

A faint ringing was heard.

She glanced around but couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

"It's my cell." He chuckled. "Still in my pants pocket."

Which was buried in the snow.

**

Why can't anyone answer the darn phone?

Pam wondered as she stared at the wireless phone in her hand.

When Greg didn't respond, she called 911 and was surprised to hear a rapid beeping sound on the other end.

Next, she tried the local police station, but an electronic voice greeted her with – "We're experiencing a high volume of calls at this time. Please try again or if this is an emergency, hang up and call 911. Goodbye."

Debating of who to call her eyes drifted to the muted television.

Images of emergency vehicles and helicopters, and of body bags being carried toward refrigerated trucks flashed across the screen.

Yes, she knew who to call and frantically dialed the numbers before placing the receiver to her ear.

A male voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Frank? Oh, thank god you're there!" She leaned against the side of the recliner.

"Pam?" Frank asked. "Are you okay?"

Frank Redmon was a retired law enforcement officer and a close family friend.

"No." She replied. "I can't reach Greg. He and Skye should have been home hours ago."

"That's funny. I just tried calling him." Frank said. "Left a message to get you and the girl over to the station as soon as possible. All hell is breaking lose out there."

"What's going on, Frank?"

"Have you been watching the news?"

"Yes. Something about insects turning on people across the globe."

"Yeah? Well, it's happening here too." He said.

"What? How's that possible with it being barely ten degrees out there?"

"I know but it's happening, Pam. It's those damn termites! They're literally tearing houses apart crushing people!"

Pam instinctively looked to the ceiling.

"Where are they, Pam?"

"Beaumont Fall."

"Okay. I will see if I can contact someone over at the Ranger station. In the meantime, I want you to get in your car right now and drive to our place."

And the call ended.

Pam stared at the device in hand for several seconds before setting it down on a counter. Her eyes moved to and lingered on the muted tv's screen.

A young woman from near Minneapolis was being interviewed – tears streamed down her face as she recounted the horror of how her house were torn apart and how she and her kids barely got out.

A faint creaking turned her attention away and she glanced up at the ceiling.

Was she imagining that it was beginning to sag?

Chunks of materials suddenly gave way as they smashed the tv shattering it to pieces.

Her eyes widened as swarms of light-colored ant-like bodies billowed out of the newly formed gap and began dropping to the floor.

Her hand grasped a pendant around her neck. "St. Michael be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil!"

Shattered pieces of woods that landed near the fireplace began to smoke as orange flames flickered to life.

"I humbly ask that you wrap your protective arms around Greg and Skye and keep them from harm!"