Chapter 2

                                                                                                                   Chapter 3

After a long day with her fifth grade students Andrea was ready to go home. It was three o'clock and she had just finished preparing her lesson plan for the next week and was trying to think up a neat little experiment that she hoped her students would love. Every Friday she brought a new experiment, today it had been a small apparatus that was screwed to the tops of two water-filled two-liter bottles, and when she spun the bottle and flipped it over, her students could see a tornado within. She had put some pebbles mixed with sand and a few tiny houses and cars that she had found at a hobby store in San Bernardino, into the bottles. When she'd spun it, it had truly looked like a tiny tornado inside the bottle.
She hadn't been able to decide what to do next Friday just yet, but she had a week to figure it, so she wasn't concerned. She packed her bags and cleaned each desk with disinfectant spray before locking the doors and heading for her car.
She was excited to get home and start reading the next chapter of Cold Terror. She had been so distracted that she had been unable to touch the lunch that she had brought with her. She had wanted to go home early and read it, but that just wasn't how she did it, not with the new books. She had been unable to bring herself to read the book that she brought to read during the children's recess time, another Kingsley novel. She hadn't wanted to dull the sensation of the first. As she sat in her car, she saw the line of cars that led away up the hill to the local ski resort. A girl in the passenger seat of one of the cars was reading the novel, she could see the picture and knew it was a Kingsley as well.
What a way to pass a car ride, she thought as she started her car and headed to the market to pick up a ready made dinner. After leaving the local market with a turkey sandwich and a soda, she drove up the hill to her house.
When she stepped inside, bags in hand, she went directly to the chair and set it all on the small table. After putting her school items away, she lovingly removed the book from the packing envelope that she had received it in and set it on the table. It was four o'clock and she wanted to take a shower and savor the suspense for a few more moments before beginning the next chapter. As she showered, she marveled at the fact that she had won the first copy of the novel. She wondered when Kingsley would go on a signing tour, she would have him autograph it and it would be the pride of her collection. She was a long time member of the Kingdom, the Donald Kingsley fan club. When she had joined the club she had received an autographed photo and a discount coupon for a nationwide bookstore. The photo hung above the chair in her livingroom where she sat to read. It was the first thing that the visitors saw when they entered her home and she liked that fact. Aside from the initial gift and some early release info via email, the fan club had no true benefit until one day she had received a phone call. The man had informed her that all the members of five years or more were entered into a contest each time a new book was released and the winner received an advanced copy and wrote the first review which was published on the fan website. The man had informed her that the computer had selected her name and she would be receiving the very first copy to run off the press. Unfortunately the book had been delivered to the wrong address by mistake, but she had still received it two days before its official release date.
She dressed in her another flannel nightgown and washed her hands before sitting to eat her dinner and start the next chapter. As she pulled the blanket over her lap she heard the phone ring. She chided herself for forgetting to turn it off. Oh well, no harm, she hadn't begun the chapter yet and after all, this wasn't the first chapter, so she had a little room to play. She looked at the clock as she answered the phone. Four-thirty, she sighed longingly, looking at the book on the table.

John looked over at the new trash cans sitting, lids locked, on the gravel next to the road. Monday was trash day and he hoped that the stupid bear would at least let that pass before coming for his cans again. He adjusted the long pruning shear to clip a section of dead branch from the large tree that stood in front of his house. He always pruned in the beginning of winter, just before the snow came. He knew that a dead tree could easily fall on your home, and he wanted to keep his trees' roots firmly in the ground. He pushed hard on the clippers and jumped to avoid the branch as it unexpectedly changed direction in its fall. It slammed down on his foot, making him shout out words that his mother would have killed him for knowing, let alone saying. He picked up the offending tree branch and tossed it to the ground by the cans. The sun was setting, painting the sky all shades of orange and yellow. He tossed the rest of the wood in a pile and called Buster, who he'd named after Buster Keaton because he was a silly little dog. Buster, who had been sniffing intently at the growing pile of wood, took one long sniff and turned back to the house.
"Did you find an interesting bug, buddy?" he asked.
"I'm sorry. You keep having your fun spoiled today, don't you? We will go on an extra long walk tomorrow. How's that sound?"
The dog looked at him, wagging his tail and flipped over for his belly to be scratched.
While John rubbed away at the happy dog's belly he hit the button for the answering machine.
"You have eleven messages." Said the soft feminine voice that came from the machine.
"We're popular today aren't we buddy." he said, still scratching the dogs belly.
The machine told him that the first message was sent at nine fifty-five am. His mothers voice came on the machine.
"Johnnooo, Jooohhhnnnooo? Are you there?" She always called him Johno when she spoke on his machine. She said that she would try his cell phone and hung up. The next call was left at noon. According to the voice on the machine, it was Martha. She told him that she wanted to know how the date went and Paul wouldn't tell her. She asked him to call her with details. He smiled as the machine gave the time for the next call, twelve thirty-two. Martha was determined to set him up and the image of Paul as the ‘mindless marriage robot' came back to him The third message was his mother again, reminding him that he had agreed to come for a visit this weekend. If he hadn't just gone for a visit three days ago, she would have made him think that he never visited her. Message number four, the disembodied voice told him, was left at four forty-three. He looked at his watch, Five o'clock. Strange, he hadn't heard any messages being left while he was gardening. The message sounded like a man with a bad cold clearing the phlegm from his throat. He stood as the next few messages, every two minutes seemed to be a raspy wheeze or a thick, gurgling sound. Message nine was a long sniff that sent a tingle down his spine and caused him to lock the deadbolt on the front door. The night before came to his mind with jerk as he listened to message ten. A deep throaty growl that didn't sound anything like a bear. His cell phone rang. The island music that came from the speaker startled him and he nearly pulled it from his belt and threw it. He shook his head and smiled. It was his cell phone ringing, and the obvious prank caller was on the answering machine. He looked at the call ID box, but it didn't tell him who the caller was. He hadn't intended to take any calls unless he recognized the caller, but his thumb seemed to push the button of its own will. "Hello?" he said with some reluctance into the phone.
A scraping noise came from outside, like metal or glass being lightly scraped with a sharp object. Buster barked twice from his position by the window. He looked toward the window where the sounds seemed to come from and an instant later the sound, both the scraping and the barks were repeated in the phone next to his ear. The cell phone dropped from his hand and a sound that was either a growl or a laugh came from the other side of the window. He ran to the closet and grabbed the gun from the shelf, holding it toward the window where Buster sat, waiting vigilantly in case of attack. He picked up the phone that hung on the wall and pushed the speed dial number for the police station.
"Officer Hanson, here. What is the trouble?"
"Officer, I received a threatening call and I believe that the person is outside of my house. "
John gave him the address and heard Hanson tell two officers to check it out.
"What threats did the person make?" The officer asked.
"Well, they didn't exactly say anything, they just growled and laughed and scratched the windows."
"Sounds like it's just a couple of kids messing with you. I wouldn't worry too much. The officers will be there soon and if they find anything they will take care of it. Meanwhile, just sit tight in your house and wait."
The officer hung up before John had a chance to tell him about the events of the previous night. John held the gun trained on the window when Buster sniffed. He began growling at the window and crept slowly to the front door as if keeping pace with something outside that was rounding the house. Buster barked once when he reached the door, watching intently as if he expected it to bust open at any moment. A scraping sound came at the front door, as though a claw were being run down its length. John jumped back, his heart began to pound and sweat beaded on his upper lip. He went still when he heard a second scrape on the door and another long sniffing sound. John gripped the gun in front of him, trying not to panic and squeeze the trigger. A low alien growl that sounded more like a liquid gurgle emanated from the other side of the door. Then it sounded as if someone was hitting the door with a weed whacker. He could hear the wood from the other side of the door splitting and cracking under the force of it. He called Buster, who was barking wildly now and ran to the exercise room at the back of the house. Locking the heavy door behind them he pushed the heavy treadmill in front of it for extra support and braced the gun in his hands. Buster had jumped up on the treadmill and had his nose to the crack between the door and the treadmill and was sniffing for whatever it was that was after them. John grabbed a clean exercise towel with his free hand and wiped the sweat from his face before returning his hand to its brace position. His thumb rested against the safety of the gun and his trigger finger pressed snugly to the trigger. Just one simple movement would send a bullet into the intruder should the need arise. Buster jumped into the air and ran to the window behind him as something sniffed at them from the other side of it. The scraping sound that came from the other side of the window grated his nerves, like fingernails on a chalkboard. He shuddered as he turned the gun on the window. "Listen, whoever you are. I have a Glock here and I know how to use it. Now unless you want a few extra holes in your body, I suggest that you leave now." When he had finished yelling the words he heard a car door slam and a moment later a voice came from the front of the house.
"Mr. O'Connel? It's the police, open up."

John sighed with relief and began to push the treadmill away from the wall.
"It was just around back, it might still be there." He yelled through the door.
He heard the cops talking and searching the area around the house as he opened the door to the exercise room and put the gun back in his closet before opening the front door. A pile of wood, most of it almost sawdust, was laying on the ground in front of the door, which had been clawed to near the thickness of a pain of glass. The officers came to the porch, looking at the door with what might have been fascination. The tall, dark skinned officer introduced himself as Officer Langley and his partner, a middle aged balding man, as Officer Dunstan.
"What you need is animal control. This looks like a bear to me." Officer Dunstan said as he hitched the belt of his pants up over his stomach.
"We saw some trash can lids that were nearly shredded over there."
He pointed his flashlight toward the ruined trash cans to indicate that those were what he meant.
"A bear is likely your suspect."
"How do you explain the calls officer? I received several calls."
He played the answering machine messages for the two men, and told them that the cell phone had received the last of them. He went on to tell them the story up until the moment that he had heard the car door, carefully leaving out the gun in the tale. He didn't want them to give him a hard time about it.
The officers thought for a moment, and then Duncan looked at him.
"A crank call. A neighbor must have seen the bear near your house, and called you to scare you. Some people have a sick sense of humor."
"Listen, maybe you should stay somewhere else tonight, a motel or a friends house maybe." Langley added.
"Give the phone company a call and they can help with the crank calls and the animal control will help with the bear."
With that they turned and walked back to the car.
John threw some clothes into a bag and grabbed the gun, throwing it in on the top. He grabbed his cell phone and the number of a local man who could repair his door and then jumped into his car where Buster waited for him. He was going to visit his mother a little earlier than either of them had expected.

Andrea set the book in the envelope and set it on the table. She was glad that it was Friday, she would have several chances to sit down and read a chapter or two throughout the weekend. It would come out to the public on Saturday, but she was sure she would be the first to finish it. She cleaned up and prepared for bed thinking of poor Jack's predicament. She wondered at the figure that is stalking him, a creature that could shred a door. Thinking of the shadowy figure that sucked the light from the room around it gave her an idea for her project, perhaps she could show the children how potatoes could be used to light a lightbulb next Friday. That was a great idea, she decided as she slipped between the sheets into her bed.

Chapter 4