Chapter 11: Something Wicked this way Comes

As the sun set behind the ominous clouds, the group gathered inside the mansion to share a simple dinner. The fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with a soft, warm glow, but the atmosphere was thick with unspoken concerns. The temperature had dropped even further, and the cold seemed to cling to the walls, creeping inside despite their best efforts to keep it out.

George picked at his bowl of soup, staring into the fire as his thoughts drifted. The rivalry between Raven and Lucy was becoming more apparent every day, and while it hadn't caused any major issues yet, he could feel it simmering just beneath the surface. He had hoped they'd find some common ground, but the tension only seemed to grow.

Beside him, Raven sat cross-legged on the floor, her back against the couch. She was flipping through a worn-out book on wilderness survival that they had found during one of their scavenging missions. Her face was illuminated by the flickering firelight, her expression focused but distant.

Lucy was perched on the armrest of the couch, absentmindedly spinning a screwdriver between her fingers. Every so often, she'd glance at George, her eyes flickering with a mix of amusement and something else—something harder to define. George caught her staring a few times, but Lucy just smirked and returned her attention to the screwdriver.

"We should stockpile more firewood tomorrow," Raven said, breaking the silence. "The nights are getting colder, and with the generator acting up, we can't rely on it to keep the heat going."

"Agreed," George replied, setting his bowl aside. "The last thing we need is to run out of fuel in the middle of a storm."

Lucy leaned forward, her smirk widening. "Hey, George, I bet I could out-chop you when it comes to splitting wood."

Raven rolled her eyes. "Of course, you would make this into a competition."

"I'm just saying, it could be fun," Lucy teased, her gaze shifting to Raven. "Unless you're too afraid to lose."

Raven closed her book with a soft thud, raising an eyebrow at Lucy. "I don't think anyone's afraid here, Lucy."

Before the banter could escalate, George cleared his throat, cutting in. "How about we focus on getting enough firewood first? We don't need to turn everything into a contest."

Both women fell silent, though George could see Raven's jaw tense as she glanced at Lucy. Lucy, on the other hand, just gave George a playful wink before stretching her arms behind her head, clearly enjoying the tension she was causing.

Elijah, sitting by the radio, looked up from his task of fiddling with the dials. He'd been quiet most of the evening, but now he spoke, his voice heavy with frustration. "Still no signal. Nothing but static."

"We should keep trying," George said. "Even if it's just to hear if anyone else is out there."

"I will," Elijah replied, his fingers turning the knob in search of any hint of a broadcast.

The air inside the mansion felt heavier now, the warmth from the fire doing little to shake the growing sense of unease. The ominous clouds George had spotted earlier were now pressing closer, dark and looming on the horizon. The chill that followed them was unnatural, sharper than the usual bite of late autumn air.

"I saw something earlier today," George finally said, breaking the silence. "Those clouds... they're not normal."

Everyone turned to him, their expressions shifting from annoyance to concern.

"What do you mean, not normal?" Raven asked, leaning forward slightly.

George frowned, trying to find the right words. "I've seen storms roll in before, but this... it felt different. Like it was alive. And the temperature dropped so fast, it didn't feel right."

The group fell quiet as they considered his words. They had all grown to trust George's instincts over the past few weeks, and if he was worried, it meant something.

"Maybe it's just a bad storm," Lucy suggested, though her voice lacked its usual confidence. "We've had our fair share of those."

"Maybe," George muttered, though he wasn't convinced.

Raven stood up and stretched, tossing the survival book onto the coffee table. "Well, whatever it is, we'll handle it. We've been through worse."

George nodded, but the feeling of dread that had settled in his chest refused to go away. He couldn't shake the thought that something much bigger was on the horizon—something they weren't prepared for.

The next morning, the group awoke to a world covered in a blanket of frost. The trees outside were coated in a fine layer of ice, their branches glistening in the weak sunlight. The air was biting cold, far colder than it should have been this time of year.

George shivered as he stepped outside, pulling his coat tighter around him. His breath formed clouds in the air as he surveyed the yard. Everything was still and quiet, almost unnervingly so. There were no birds, no signs of life—just the eerie silence that came with the cold.

"Feels like winter came early," Tobias said, joining George on the porch. "Not normal for October."

"No, it's not," George agreed. "It's getting worse."

They stood in silence for a moment, both of them scanning the treeline for any signs of movement. The sky was overcast, the dark clouds that had loomed the previous evening now settled overhead, heavy with the threat of snow.

"Let's get some more firewood," George said. "I have a feeling we're gonna need it."

Later that afternoon, George, Lucy, and Tobias headed out into the woods with axes and ropes, ready to stockpile as much firewood as they could before the storm hit. The forest around them was deathly quiet, the only sound the crunch of frost under their boots as they walked deeper into the trees.

As they worked, Lucy seemed unusually quiet, her usual sarcastic comments absent. George noticed the tension in her movements, the way she kept glancing around, as if expecting something to jump out from the shadows.

"You okay?" George asked, chopping through a thick log.

Lucy paused, wiping sweat from her brow despite the cold. "Yeah, I'm fine. It's just... I don't like this. Something feels wrong."

George nodded in agreement. "You're not the only one. I can feel it too."

They continued to work in silence for a while longer, the cold seeping into their bones despite their exertion. The deeper they went into the woods, the stranger it became. George noticed patches of earth where the frost seemed thicker, almost unnaturally so. In some places, the ground was frozen solid, the kind of freeze that didn't belong this early in the season.

"Look at this," Lucy said, crouching down to inspect one of the patches. "This ground is rock solid, like it's been frozen for weeks."

George knelt beside her, running his gloved hand over the icy surface. "Yeah, and look here," he pointed out. "There's no snow on it. Just frozen ground."

Tobias joined them, his brow furrowed. "What could cause that?"

"I don't know," George replied, standing up. "But it's not natural."

The unease grew stronger as they moved deeper into the forest, collecting wood as they went. Every so often, George would catch a glimpse of something moving in the distance—a shadow, large and quick, darting between the trees. But every time he turned to look, there was nothing there.

"I think we should head back," Tobias said, his voice tight. "We've got enough wood. Let's not push our luck."

George didn't argue. He had seen enough strange things in the woods for one day.