Chapter 3

"I have to go in," I said, my voice hoarse.

Mayor Hank grabbed my arm. "Emily, don't be foolish! That thing will tear you apart!"

The other townsfolk murmured in agreement, their faces filled with alarm.

"No," I insisted, pulling away. "Listen to me. Last time... I mean, I have a feeling... that cougar, it's not just randomly attacking. It's focused on our house. On our yard."

The "knowing" was strong again, a cold certainty.

"It was the same with the... the other animal, years ago. It ignored everyone else. It just wanted something from our place."

Mike looked at me, his expression thoughtful. "What are you saying, Emily?"

"I don't know what it is. But I think there's something in the yard, or in the house, that it wants. It's not just hunger."

The memory from my "knowing" was vivid: the bear, years ago, not the one from the stories people told, but a different one, earlier. It had been obsessed with the old shed, an almost frantic energy about it. Dad had shot it, and that was the end of it. No one had looked further.

But I remembered its strange focus.

"If I can get in, maybe I can find out what it is. Maybe I can get Grandma out through the back."

The back of our house had an old, disused cellar. The external access was a pair of rotted wooden doors, mostly covered by overgrown weeds, but there was a small ventilation shaft, barely big enough for a child to squeeze through, its grate long rusted away.

I knew it because I used to hide there when Dad's temper flared, or when Jessica's taunts became too much.

"It's too dangerous," Hank said, but his voice lacked conviction. He looked at the splintering back door, then at the determined set of my jaw.

"Mike," I pleaded, turning to the ex-Marine. "You know tactics. If you and the others can create a diversion at the front, make enough noise to draw its attention, I can slip around to the back. The cellar vent. I can get in that way."

Mike studied me for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly.

"Alright, Emily. It's a long shot. But it's better than waiting for that door to give."

He turned to the others. "Okay, listen up! We're going to make a whole lot of noise at the front. Bang on things, shout, use the torches. Keep that cat busy. Emily is going to try for the cellar vent. If she gets in, she'll try to get Susan out the same way. We need to be ready to help them if they make it."

A new kind of tension filled the air, the tension of action.

The men gathered their makeshift weapons and torches.

"Now!" Mike yelled.

They rushed towards the front of my house, shouting, banging a metal trash can lid, waving the flaming torches.

The cougar roared, startled by the sudden assault from a new direction. It spun away from the back door, its attention fixed on the commotion at the front.

This was my chance.