“Remember last Christmas when there was a power cut because of the snow, and Dad came out here and fired up the barbecue?” Wren said with a warm smile on her face.
Robyn let out a small laugh. “Yeah, we had steak and sweetcorn for Christmas dinner, ‘cos Dad said there was no way his family was going to have cold food on Christmas Day.”
“When he came back in, he was like a snowman. His teeth were chattering and all through dinner, he had to have a blanket over his knees, and Mum gave him a pair of her fingerless gloves,” Wren said, giggling.
“And then, straight after dinner, the electricity came back on.” Both girls laughed. “There isn’t anything either of them wouldn’t have done for us, Wren.”
“I know that.”
“Good. It’s important. Because at the end…it wasn’t Dad. It wasn’t Dad who attacked Mum. It was what had taken over him.”
“I know.”
“I’m your older sister, and If Mum and Dad were here now, they’d be telling us that we have to look after each other. I’ve been doing a pretty lousy job so far, but I’m going to make it right. I owe it to you and I owe it to them. I loved them so much. And I…I miss them so much.” Robyn and Wren began to sob. “I’m going to make it right.”
The night air got colder and the flames dampened further in the incinerator. Eventually, the girls began to tire after the events of the previous two days. The adrenalin had long since stopped surging through them and now they began to give in to their weariness.
Wren picked up her plate from the floor, scooped up as much food onto it as she could, and tipped it on the compost pile at the far corner of the garden. “I’m going to call it a night.”
“Me too,” Robyn replied.
They turned on the small lantern and walked into the house. The pair of them took their dishes into the kitchen, and one wiped them clean, while the other locked the front door and checked the windows.
Happy that the house was secure, the two sisters climbed the stairs, and Wren gave Robyn the lantern. “Night, Bobbi,” she said, stepping into her room.
“Night, Wren.” She was about to head into her own room but stopped. “Wren!”
“Yes,” she replied, popping her head back out.
“I love you.”
Wren smiled. “I love you too.”
chapter 11
Wren used the light button on her watch to see the time. It was one-thirty a.m. Hoots, laughter, and the sound of smashing glass had woken her up. For a moment, she thought it was somebody smashing the windows downstairs, but then she heard it again more clearly and determined it was the sound of smashing bottles.
She heard floorboards creak before the door to her bedroom opened. She remained under her quilt frozen for a second, before Robyn’s voice whispered, “Wren? Wren are you awake?”
“What is it?”
“They’re stood on the barricade.”
“Who?” Wren asked, climbing out of bed.
“There’s Carl and his two brothers, and I think there’s a woman watching them.”
Wren and Robyn opened the curtains a little and looked up the street towards the barricade. Two small fires burnt in metal bins either side, providing them with enough light to see what was going on. The party was still in full swing further down the street as King Donnie held court in his back garden with leftover barbecue and more homemade beer.
“What’s he got in his hand?” Wren asked, watching Carl intently.
“I think it’s a bottle.”
“But what’s he doing with it?”
“He’ll be drinking, still.”
“No, there’s something sticking out of it like a…”
“What? Like a what?”
“Oh shit no! He couldn’t be that stupid.”
“What? What is it, Wren?”
“It’s a wick,” she said as both of them watched Carl pull a lighter from his pocket and set fire to it. He waited for a moment until the short fuse was burning properly, then he threw it down onto the other side of the barricade.
Neither Wren or Robyn could see what was happening on the other side, but a burst of flame lit up the area for a short time and Carl and his brothers cheered and laughed while the young woman stood on the street clapped excitedly. “You show ‘em, Carl. You show ‘em,” she said, like any drunk watching a fistfight outside a pub on a Saturday night.
The two sisters continued to watch as Carl bent down and picked up another bottle, lighting the wick of that and flinging it into the air and onto the street beyond to more hoots and cheers from his brothers and the female fan club of one.
“Get your clothes on, Bobbi.”
“What? Why?”
“Trust me. Get your clothes on.” Wren slipped out of her warm and comfy PJs and reached into a drawer to get fresh underwear.
“I don’t understand,” Robyn said, still standing there, looking out of the window.
“Bobbi. There are bags of garden rubbish, wooden benches, all sorts of things on there that are going to go up like a Catherine wheel on bonfire night the second a flame hits them. There are four transit vans there, all with oil and diesel in them. What do you think’s going to happen?”
“Oh no.”
“Exactly!”
Robyn disappeared to her room and Wren continued getting dressed, pausing occasionally to look out of the window. She pulled on her socks and then closed the curtains before flicking on her small torch and running downstairs to get her boots. She grabbed two bottles of water from the fridge, knowing there was already some in the bug-out bag, but the more they had the better. She put them by the side of the door and ran back up the stairs to her room, switching off the torch again as she entered.
Robyn was stood back at the window watching. “I think it’s okay. I can’t see any more flames. I can’t see light on the other side.”
Wren squeezed in by the side of her sister and they both continued their vigil. A few more minutes passed and the three brothers climbed down from the top of the barricade. Carl staggered and went across to the young woman, falling into her arms. They hooted with laughter and the five of them headed back down the street towards Carl’s home. Wren closed the curtains quickly as the raucous, drunken laughter got louder. Then when it finally disappeared, she opened them again.
“There’s no one guarding the barricade,” Robyn said, looking down the street.
“Like I couldn’t have told you that was going to happen.”
Wren and Robyn stayed there a while longer, the flames in the two metal bins began to die down, and when the anticipated inferno did not strike, the two sisters closed the curtains once more.
“God, this is only the second night,” Robyn said.
“I know.”
“We will train again tomorrow, yes?”
“Course we will. We’ll keep training until we’re sure we can handle ourselves out there.”
“I’ll see you bright and early then.”
“I’ve got my alarm set for five. Do you want me to wake you.”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
Robyn left Wren’s room, closing the door behind her, and Wren cast one more glance out the window before taking off her boots and climbing into bed. She laid there for a while, looking blindly into the darkness before her eyes began to feel heavy once more and she started to drift.
Breaking glass dragged Wren from her dreams once again, but this time it was a different sound. It was not her downstairs window, but it wasn’t a bottle, either. She blinked her eyes awake and the room was not as dark as it had been when she had drifted off. She looked at her watch; it was just past two a.m. She could not have been asleep more than a few minutes. She remembered drifting off in the darkness, but now, she could see the basic outline of things in the room as a small amount of light bled in from outside.
She slowly got out of bed, still not sure if she was dreaming. She nearly tripped up over her boots which she had lef
t in the middle of the floor as weariness had enveloped her. She recovered her footing and went to the window, opening the curtains slightly to make sure there was nobody in the street below. When she was certain Carl and his brothers were not outside, ready to hurl something at her bedroom window, she opened the curtains a little wider and looked up the street.
Wren turned and ran out into the hall, bursting into her sister’s room. “Bobbi! Get up now! We have to go!” Wren flung the curtains open and her sister, disoriented, struggled with her quilt and climbed out of bed.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“We need to go.” Wren thundered back out of the room and threw her clothes and boots on.
Robyn was still a little dazed, but instantly jolted back to life when she realised that there was a lot more light in the room than there had been when she’d gone to sleep. She climbed out of bed and went to the window, looking down the street towards the barricade.
“Oh god, no!”
Two of the transit vans were in flames. The debris on top of their bonnets had been consumed by fire. A loud crack sounded as one of the windscreens buckled and splintered with the heat. She looked back down the street to Carl’s house. She could see fiery reflections on the wall of their neighbour’s house, suggesting their party was still going on and they were all drunk and blissfully unaware of what was happening to the barricade.
“Come on, Bobbi,” demanded Wren, returning to her sister’s doorway. “We have to go. Now.”
“Shouldn’t we at least tell them?”
“Screw that. You think they’d tell us? I’ll meet you downstairs. Now hurry!”
Robyn quickly put her clothes on, not needing to switch on her torch as the light from the barricade burned brighter and brighter. She pulled on her boots and looked out the window one more time as a drunken couple opened the panelled back garden gate of the Donovan’s and began to walk down the path. It took them a minute to fall out of their drunken stupor and realise what was happening. The woman let out a scream and the man staggered back up the path and swung open the garden gate, shouting at the top of his voice.
Robyn looked back down to the barricade. Now, beyond the refuse sacks, the benches and other items that were being reduced to ash, she could see shadows of moving creatures. The flames were licking higher and higher as the fire took a greater hold, burning a huge, inviting beacon to any hungry monsters scouring the suburbs.
Shouts of panic began to reverberate in the street below as the drunken revellers stumbled onto the street to look towards the increasingly ferocious blaze.
“Come on Bobbi!” Wren shouted again, but Robyn could barely tear her eyes away from the unfolding mayhem below. Then it happened, probably what Wren had figured would happen from the point she saw Carl light his first Molotov cocktail. One of the vans exploded as its diesel tank caught fire. A blinding fountain of liquid flames shot through the air like a firework display. The crowd that had gathered in the street suddenly sobered up in a heartbeat and all of them ducked and cowered for a moment as the searing heat whipped through the night air. The mini fireballs splashed on the tarmac of the road, the concrete of the pavements, the bushes and trees in the nearby gardens, and the brickwork of the surrounding houses. In a split second, the scene had turned into something from a disaster movie.
Robyn watched as sparks and lit debris rose higher and higher into the dark sky, and she felt herself become more hypnotised by the moment. She looked back down at the crowd, and she could tell they felt the same. They looked on in abject horror, wanting to move, to stop the infernal tide, but unable to do so; they stood rooted, glued to the spot by their own fear and the inevitability of their own mortality.
“Bobbi. For god’s sake. What are you doing up there?”
Her sister’s voice broke her out of the trance and she turned, leaving the scene to play out. She ran down the stairs.
“Sorry!” was all she could say as she jumped the last few steps and landed in front of Wren at the bottom.
“C’mon,” Wren said, picking up the two water bottles and handing Robyn the two javelins, before heading out into the back garden. She went straight to the shed, opened the bug-out bag, put the extra water bottles in, then took her own javelin back from Robyn. There was enough starlight for them to see what they were doing, and Wren took one of the white plastic garden chairs and put it against the back fence. There was another loud explosion from the street and both girls watched as an eruption of flames shot high into the sky.
“Oh no!” Robyn said, as her eyes followed the fiery arcs.
“Don’t worry,” Wren replied. “You first.” She took the javelin back from Robyn and guided her onto the chair. Robyn grabbed hold of the top of the fence and lifted herself up, placing her foot firmly on the ridge before jumping down the other side and landing upright on the soft ground below.
Wren climbed up, leaned over the fence and lowered the javelins and the holdall down to her sister then jumped up and over herself. The two of them stood there for a moment. The catching flames cast dancing shadows around them, as Wren placed the carry strap of the holdall over her head and shoulder and picked up her javelin. “Let’s go,” she said, beginning the march across the field.
Robyn remained nailed to the spot for a moment. They had just escaped a desperate situation; was what lay ahead of them any safer?
chapter 12
The two sisters made their way across McIntyre’s field, occasionally throwing glances over their shoulder towards their home and the street beyond. They could see from their position, that fire had taken hold of the roof of the first house in the street, and the house next to it on the corner of the main road which led onto their street was also in flames.
“This will get out of hand in no time at all,” Wren said.
“I think it already is.”
“No, I mean really out of hand. There’s no sign of rain, the ground’s pretty dry, no fire engines, no water to fight the flames with. The whole area could go up, thanks to those idiots.
“We’ll be out of here by then, won’t we?”
“Don’t worry. We’ll be long gone by then.”
They made it to the end of the field, and now they were out of the direct glow of the flames, the pair of them realised it was a little harder to make things out.
“Wren!” whispered Robyn.
Wren stopped in her tracks, as she was about to climb over the fence. “What?”
“I can’t see much. Are you sure we should be travelling about in the dark?”
“What are our options?”
“Can we find a safe place for a couple of hours until it’s lighter?”
Wren stretched her hands out and gestured around her. “Like where, exactly?”
“I don’t know. I just...if there’s one of those things out there, it will be on us before we even see it.”
Wren climbed back down. “Listen. In the park, the kid’s playground, there’s that little playhouse thing at the top of the climbing frame and slide. If we can get there, we can stay out of sight until it’s morning. Proper morning, I mean.”
“Okay.”
Wren climbed over the fence, quickly followed by her sister. They both crouched down, taking cover behind the thin interval of trees and bushes that bordered the public park. They allowed their eyes to adjust to the new surroundings for a few seconds then the two of them slowly moved off once again. They kept close together, their arms almost touching. They could feel their eyes widen as their pupils expanded, trying to take in every silhouette, every bizarre shape.
“Do you hear rustling?” whispered Robyn.
“It’ll probably be rats or something; don’t worry.”
“Rats?”
“Keep your voice down.” Wren felt her sister’s hand gently grab hold of her arm as they made their way through the park to the centre and the children’s play area. “I’m scared, Wren.”
Wren stopped and took hold of her sister’s hand. “Bobbi, I’m
scared too. There’d be something wrong with us if we weren’t,” she whispered. “But we don’t have a choice. We have to do this. Now, come on, stick with me, stay quiet, and we’ll be fine.”
They did not speak again after that. They walked hand in hand through the park as they had so many times when they were younger. The children’s play area had been redesigned a few times since then, finally going all posh when they got a lottery grant to build a new one, but the girls were still just two sisters in the park, like they had been all those years before.
The ground beneath their feet suddenly felt different as they left the grass and walked onto the soft, loose bark chips that coated the ground around the climbing frames, the roundabouts, and the swings. Wren was concentrating hard, trying to make out any unfamiliar shapes, trying to see any wisps of movement that did not belong to the night. She squeezed her sister’s hand tight. “This is it,” she whispered. “You go first.” She guided her sister to the base of the climbing frame and took the javelin from her. “Be careful.”
Robyn reached out in front of her until her hands came into contact with the metal rungs of the frame. She slowly climbed until she reached the small, covered section at the top. She leant out of the little circular gap in the treehouse-like structure. “Pass me the javelins,” she whispered. Wren slowly raised one, then the other javelin, holding them up until Robyn’s exploring hand caught hold of them. Then she climbed up herself. She pulled the holdall from her shoulder and the two of them nestled down into the small gap beneath the javelins, whose ends were poking out of the two circular windows.
“This is comfy,” Wren said, as she folded her arms and pushed her hands beneath her armpits for warmth.
“It could be worse.” The two of them sat, leaning into each other, listening to the sounds of the night. Then they heard a muffled explosion. “Do you think that’s our street?”
The End of Everything Box Set, Vol. 1 [Books 1-3] Page 9
