by Stevens, GJ
Listening to Cassie's voice still high and hearing her gratitude at the realisation her sister was safe, I found a child's bedroom and, after a short search, located bold markers in a drawer.
Back in the front bedroom, I shoved aside the bed covers and, with dried blood flaking to the white surface, I scrawled my missing friend's names in big, bold letters.
“What happened to the others?” I heard Cassie say, her voice rising up the stairs.
I could barely hear the reply, just making out they'd separated. Ellie hadn't seen what had happened to Naomi, Zoe or Andrew. The sound of each name came like an electric shock. The pilot, as she called him, had been with her when they walked into another group of those creatures.
He'd distracted them, drawing them towards him, making them follow as he ran in the opposite direction from her. They'd both seen the house and, as he ran, he pointed her towards it.
I had the sheet off the bed and out one side of the window. Tying off the end, I tried to throw the corner across and catch it from the other opening. On my fourth try I'd grabbed it in my fingertips and tried to tie it down.
“But how did you get in?” Cassie said.
My fingers stopped working the knot, my breath held in the long pause. I moved my hands from the sheet, not noticing if it stayed in place. I stepped to the landing, watching the dog's ears twitch up.
“The back door was open.” Ellie's voice was clear.
I was already moving when Cassie spoke again.
“Did you close it behind you?”
I didn't hear the answer before I'd jumped down the first few steps.
44
Launching myself down the stairs, the stench grew worse. Pain radiated around my chest as I patted my trousers in vain, knowing full-well the gun would stare back from the high wall unit in the front room.
Three openings came into view as I raced. The door to the kitchen stood open, the room already explored. The other two white doors straight ahead hung closed, but it was only one of them I wanted to open.
On the last step, I hesitated. Should I turn away and get the gun or charge towards one of doors unarmed, hoping I'd made the right choice and the invasion hadn't already begun?
Knowing I'd delayed too much already, I raced to the first, feeling the lightweight hardboard almost buckle as I used it stop my momentum. My heart sank as I realised it wouldn't last long if it had to be our final barrier.
I stepped back, not taking a breath for fear of the foul air, not knowing what I could do if they were already on the other side. Fragrant air wafted out as I pushed the door open. A toilet glared at me from against the wall while a dark figure drifted past the frosted glass.
I felt the cold draft before I pushed the second door open, before I saw the dead body turn the corner as it swung. The dark wood of the back door was wide toward me, the chill, pungent air striking my bare chest.
Again, I hesitated for what seemed like an age, staring at the mud-caked trainers so close to crossing the threshold.
My gaze rose up the white tracksuit bottoms, following the line of dark holes strafing the legs. Each was ringed in deep scarlet, the wounds tracking up the white body and across the creased, matching tracksuit top, through her left breast before ending at the shoulder. The circles of red widened as the bullet holes rose, their course only just missing her young head.
My gaze hovered for far too long, watching as she stepped forward in slow motion, at least in my head. With eyes clouded white like her hair, her features were grey and sunken, but her lips were bright red with a gloss sheen, like she'd paused for a moment around the corner to add an extra coat.
This was someone's daughter. I looked to her hands, which were much like mine, caked in red, flaking blood, but at least what covered me was not my own. The thought filled me with such guilt;. if it was, then Naomi would be okay. If only it worked like that.
She was a wife, according to the ruby ring on her long slender finger, the nails with a perfect manicure, the covering the same vibrant red as her lips.
The dog broke my spell, barking as another creature appeared the other side of the door frame. I barely saw the Asian guy, only noticing the stub of sharp bone where his right arm should have been.
At last I'd taken the final steps and pushed against the door, heaving the wood as it caught on something solid. Looking down, I saw the woman's trainer, the toes jammed between the door and the frame. I could feel her weight pushing back, building as more joined the stack.
The boy arrived with the gun in his hand, offering it butt first, his eyes wide as he saw my struggle. I couldn't take the weapon without losing my ground, which I was only just holding.
Shaking my head, I felt my anger building inside as I cursed my poor decisions. Why hadn't I checked the back door? Why didn't I go for the gun first?
The corridor grew lighter and I turned my eyes up, saw dark shapes shuffling across the windows in the front door. These things knew of our struggle and were heading around the back.
I took a look at the pistol still offered out and made a frightening connection.
The monsters were communicating.
We were going to need bigger guns.
45
With each deep, incessant bark, the glass squares in the door rattled against their lead edging. Pushing hard with my shoulders and hands flat against its surface, I winced as the hinges complained, creaking against the wall.
Stalemate, although I knew the creatures on the other side could keep it up for longer. My gaze fell to the trainer stuck in the door's path, its mud-covered fabric wedged to the wall. There was only one way the door was going.
I flinched my view around the small anteroom to shelves hung along the short walls, then down to where a stout chest freezer sat.
Despite the madness of the effort, I couldn't help but think of the food inside. So much had happened in the last few hours, but in reality it had been barely two days since the start; since we lost those things impossible to live without. Electricity. The internet. Both would be no use right now as a heave from the other side brought back my focus.
I gave a shove in reply, my gaze back on the shelves, roving for weapons. The iron might do, but the rest were useless, the electric mixer nothing but a great doorstop in this new world.
Turning back to the boy, the gun still held by the barrel, he was trying his best to pull the dog back as he growled between each bellow.
The dog needed a name, but he never had a collar to give us a clue. The boy had the dog back, the mutt not pulling out of his hands. The boy turned the gun and pointed it at the wedged shoe.
“No,” I shouted. “No. Too dangerous.” I paused, pushing a little harder and realised there may never be a good time for introductions.
“Kid, what's your name?” I said, straining against a renewed effort.
The kid looked up as if I'd told him Santa Claus wasn't real, his face distant, eyebrows raising. Maybe he'd forgotten what he was called.
“Jack,” he eventually said in a quiet voice.
“Jack. I like that.”
The kid looked past me as another shove added to the pile, another low moan of air rolling out the putrid stench.
“My name's Logan,” I said, pausing. “I'd shake your hand if I could,” and tried to squeeze out a smile.
The kid wasn't impressed, his face deadpan. “Go see if Cassie...” I paused again. “Go see if the woman in the other room can lend a hand,” and gave the door another heave.
Before he ran the short distance, he placed the gun carefully in the opening of the kitchen beside me, then was back in just a few speeding heartbeats. He shook his head.
I understood, picturing Cassie's arms drenched in Naomi's blood. I wanted to say she might have to come anyway. Instead, I decided to try something else to test how these things would react.
Pulling a deep breath and trying to let my muscles relax, I spoke again.
“Jack, take the gun and get ready to run to the f
ront room. If I don't follow, just shut this door,” I said, nodding to the thin interior barrier. “Get the woman to pull the furniture across and stay there. You understand?” I watched as he stared back, looking like he was about to ask a question, about to ask me what I was up to.
I didn't have time. “Pick up the gun,” I said, and he did what he was told. “And take the dog too, right?” I said, raising my brows. “You'll need to give him a name.”
The kid looked at the dog, turning his head to the side and the tiniest of smiles appeared.
I took a final deep pull of air whilst trying to hold back my gag reflex and turned my head down to the floor, planting my foot back a few inches and letting my hold relax.
The door gave as I expected, slapping against my foot.
The kid jumped, taking aim to my side as I fought to stop the movement and keep my hold. The woman's dead foot was loose and free to move. It didn't. My test had failed and I'd lost valuable leverage, the weight so much stronger than before and my foot was moving, the soles of my trainers squealing as they slid against the tiles.
The hallway darkened with my feet slipping, a hand peeling around the edge. It was the woman's; I could tell from the red of her nails, the fingers dowsed in dried blood.
I tried to push back, but I was already giving all I had. Something fluttered to the floor and I followed it down. A finger nail. False. For show; the remaining pink nail rough underneath, the edge jagged and bitten down to the skin.
My gaze shot back to the front door as the glass rattled with the boom of a fist against the wood.
“Help,” came the call. It was Andrew's panicked voice, I had no doubt.
The toddler wailed high, Jack turning, his gaze swapping between his sister and the front door.
“Let him in, Jack. He's our friend,” I said, a new calmness in my voice. “Our friend,” I said again in a whisper, the words relaxing as a weight lifted.
Jack turned with his face bunched in a question.
I confirmed in a nod and felt the pressure ease at my back. The weight was literally lifting. I felt a sudden relief that everything would be okay, but the feeling was only short-lived.
The events of the day flashed before my eyes. I looked down at my blood-soaked chest, remembering Naomi lain on the couch, Zoe lost out in the wilderness.
Jack was halfway to the door and I gave a heave, taking back some distance I'd lost and the realisation came; it was getting lighter because they were going after Andrew.
“Hurry,” I shouted, but Jack couldn't speed any more. He was there, his hands tangling at the locks, getting twisted like in a dream. It was already bad, a nightmare, but worse still. There was no possibility I would wake up.
The light from the front room dimmed. There were more of them coming around the edge. No time left.
The door sprung open and there was Andrew, red-faced, eyes wide, with terror running through him. But he was in one piece.
A smile bloomed on my face and mirrored by his, but both dropped as I saw a hand come around the door, grabbing the hood of Andrew's coat and yanking him back.
He pulled himself free, falling to the floor. He was inside.
Euphoria spread over me.
“Shut the door,” I screamed. More hands raked at the edges.
The temperature fell and my heart sank with it as I saw in the distance Lane and Zoe running towards us with one of those beasts racing close behind as Jack slammed the door at his back.
46
Andrew hadn't caught what I'd seen. He was too busy scrabbling from the floor and racing to my side at the back door. Pushing. Heaving. Kicking at the woman’s foot. Peeling fingers from their hold until the latch clicked into place.
With the back door secure, pain ripped across my chest, the cracked ribs only a part of my state. My muscles took a breath for the first time in what seemed like hours, but I couldn't relax, I couldn't take time and rushed past Jack, grabbing the pistol from his hand. The front door was back open in one swift swing, surprising the creatures from where they'd drifted.
Bang. Bang. The gun sang. Two shots and one either side were down.
A black shadow raced past my side and I caught sight of the dog, choosing his new name in an instant. He was racing towards the pair I'd stepped out of safety to rescue, or at least give a chance of life as it was meant to be.
Bang. Bang. Another two down and Andrew was out with the iron upturned in his hand, water spilling across his path.
Thump, went the corner of the metal across a grey face. Down went the creature and with another solid pound it stopped dead. Again.
Bang. I laid a shot across his front, sending another sprawling to the floor. Thump went the iron and I shot after. We'd taken six or seven out, three sprawled to the floor, but more were coming from each side of the building.
I heard Shadow's muffled growl and knew without looking he'd latched on. I turned and saw Zoe and Lane were close, running towards the open door.
The creature was down, Shadow gripping tight to his leg. He'd forced it to the ground and now it’s full attention was on the dog.
I ran after, not wanting to chance a shot. Andrew called me away, the thump of the metal resounding again. As I grew closer, Shadow winced, squealing; a clawed hand dug deep in his chest.
“Shadow,” I said, calling his new name and smiled as he released, running in my direction.
Bang went a shot, and then another. The body did what nature had once meant it should.
I turned and ran alongside the dog, taking two more shots before slamming the door.
My back slid down the wood. Batteries flat. Energy expired.
There was much back-slapping and hugs all around. After checking below the fur on Shadow’s side, with relief finding his skin intact, I climbed to my feet by the time it had all turned to tears.
Naomi was still alive but following the same story as Chloe had already written. I couldn't take part; I was zapped. Emotions drained. I had to get her blood from my chest and I took the steps one by one, slow and steady, leaving the sobbing behind.
It was Zoe's heartfelt cry I had to shut out. I couldn't hear more pain; there was no more room inside my head.
Water came from the tap, the tank in the loft not yet empty. I washed as best I could, sparing as much as I was able.
Drying myself, I went from room to room, hearing downstairs had calmed. There were three bedrooms. Three people had lived here. Parents and a child. The dad had been, could still be, my size and I was warm again, at least across my body.
Sitting on the edge of the bed in the largest room, I listened to the slow steps while I counted each of the ten remaining rounds.
Cassie appeared at the door, her hands bloodied and buried in a rag. She looked like me; exhausted with it all.
“There's water left in the tank,” I said, my voice monotone.
She nodded and drifted away.
I still sat in the same place, my gaze not having moved from the door since she’d left.
She was back, her coat off, shirt sleeves rolled up, but still I could see the bloodied ends. Without speaking, she sat right beside me, my body tipping towards her as the mattress took her weight.
We leant in and she turned. I followed, our eyes catching. Our lips headed together. They were so warm. Fresh. Her arms, too, as they pulled around my body.
Mine found hers and, as if recharged, we delved into each other's mouths like nothing else mattered.
She pulled my hands to her back when a powerful thud shook the building. Glass falling to the ground.
Screams called upward and I pulled away; both our mouths in a thin smile. I reached for the gun and, one after the other, we ran down the stairs.
47
Gasps sang through the air as seven sets of eyes stared at the small side pane of the front room window. Shadow shouted a warning, snapping off a bark as I arrived.
The outer layer had cracked, a head-sized section missing; the glass lost between the
panes.
With no obvious cause, I turned to the staring faces, my gaze shooting back as a head climbed from below the window line.
Something, once someone, rose unsteady above the sill. He'd been an older man, his hair blond and straw-like, his skin leathery and weathered. He wore a thick checked shirt with a line running across his forehead where a hat had recently been. Just below the line was an indentation, a break in the skin, but no blood poured out. There was no heart pumping.
Eyes turned as I'd arrived, then to Cassie as she followed just after. I couldn't help but steal a glance as her slender hands delved, pushing away her shirt tails. With my cheeks heating, I checked their expressions. I was sure they hadn't noticed.
Zoe's eyes were red with tears as she knelt beside the sofa, her hands wrapping Naomi's pale fingers.
For the first time, I noticed the Christmas tree in the corner and was transported to my parents’ house only the week before. It was Christmas morning, the first time I woke there in ten years, the tree resplendent with brightly-coloured parcels bulging from underneath. Here it would be Christmas till this was all over. Decorations around the South West would be up till someone sorted this shit out.
No one spoke as Cassie led the children away and, together with Lane and Andrew, we manoeuvred the wall-length dresser across the window.
With cupboards scoured for anything of use and Zoe still holding her hand, we moved Naomi and the sofa, pushing it across the cupboard to stop it from toppling if the worst should happen.
The room was nearly pitch black with the curtains drawn, just the light from the hallway seeping in. Somehow, we got Naomi up the stairs, carrying her between four of us. Her body hardly responded as we turned her around the corners, landing her in the front bedroom where I pulled in the sheet from outside and sealed the windows up tight.
