Whispers in the Mist: Black Winter Book Three

by Coates, Darcy

  “What about the research facility? They might have doctors on staff—”

  “Don’t count on it. There’s a wide gap between theoretical medicine and practical. If it’s not an active hospital, I doubt they’ll be much help.” Beth chewed on her lip. “Evandale is days away as well. Our best chance is finding something locally. I already checked this house’s medicine cabinet. If it had anything stronger than eyedrops, it’s already been cleared out.”

  The fire crackled behind her, but Clare couldn’t feel its warmth. She tucked her knees under her chin. “Where’s the best place to look for antibiotics?”

  “There’s a town nearby, right?”

  Clare struggled to remember the map. “Yeah. It shouldn’t be more than an hour away.”

  “Then we’ll try there. The pharmacies will be emptied. Those and the grocery stores would have been the first to go to looters. But we can try some houses, maybe get lucky.”

  “Okay. Okay. We… we’ll do that.” Clare looked towards the window. Ice, funnelled against the house by ferocious winds, plastered over the glass and hid the outside world. “It’s not safe to go now, is it?”

  “No. The snow’s too thick to drive in. We’ll have to wait until the storm is over.” Beth sighed and curled deeper into the chair. “At least, in this weather, we only need to worry about hollows, not other survivors. Let’s have some dinner and get some sleep. Tomorrow might be better.”

  It was a sombre, subdued night. Beth cooked tinned stew over the fire while Clare scouted through the rest of the house for anything that might help them. She found candles in a cupboard and brought them back to light the living room, along with more blankets from the linen closet.

  As night set in, Clare stopped by the bathroom. Beth had said she’d already searched it, but Clare couldn’t stop herself from double-checking. The medicine cabinet was open, with a bottle of eyedrops, a manicure set, and lotion the only remaining goods. She still scoped through the rest of the room, opening the cupboards under the sink and sorting through the shampoo bottles.

  The bathroom bin caught her eyes as she passed. It was full of scraps of cloth and used bandages, all stained red. Clare stared, horrified. Beth’s injury had to be worse than she was letting on.

  Dorran needs help. Beth’s hurt. And we don’t know how long the storm might last.

  It had raged around Winterbourne for weeks. Clare tried to imagine what they would do if they were trapped in the house for that long. She wasn’t sure they even had enough food to survive.

  The idea haunted her, and instead of returning to the living room, she followed the hallway into the kitchen. Freezing air snapped at her, gusting through the dining room’s open window. She squinted to protect her eyes as she searched the cupboards. They were almost completely bare. All she found were sponges, food colouring, and an empty bag of oats.

  Someone raided this house after all. She closed the cupboards and leaned her forehead against the wood as she tried to calm the panic rising through her.

  Clare woke Dorran for dinner. He didn’t talk much and barely ate, and his bowl was still half full when he put it aside.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled at Clare’s worried look. “Just tired.”

  “Sure. Get some rest.” She adjusted the blanket over him as he drifted under.

  Beth lounged in the second chair, stirring her own food absentmindedly. Her expression was unreadable. “You should sleep, too, Clare. Dawn will come sooner than you expect.”

  The storm continued to batter the home during the night. Clare, sleeping in a nest of blankets by the fire, woke repeatedly as windows rattled and wood creaked. The house still smelt like dead hollow. Disturbing dreams threaded through reality, leaving her clammy and frightened every time she woke.

  Dorran didn’t stir through the night. Whenever Clare looked towards her sister, Beth was still awake and staring into the fire. The dancing light played over her sharp features, lighting her eyes and building shadows around the scars.

  By the time morning’s light began to pierce the snow-caked windows, Clare felt no better rested. She sat up, groggy, and rubbed sleep out of her eyes with one hand while clutching the blanket around herself with the other. It was cold.

  “Morning,” Beth said. She stood at the window, hands in her jacket pockets, staring into the haze of white beyond. She’d pulled her scarf high around her throat to ward off the chill.

  The fire was down to embers. Clare looked towards the wood basket, but it was empty. Beth must have fed logs into the fire during the night. Clare turned to Dorran’s chair. It was empty. She felt her heart skip a beat. “Beth? Where’s Dorran?”

  Beth only shrugged.

  A loud cracking noise came from deeper in the house. Clare threw the blanket aside. Her legs were stiff and unsteady as they carried her into the hallway. She caught herself on the bookcase, trying to orient herself as to where the noise had come from. It was repeated, echoing out of the first bedroom. Clare crossed to it in two steps and shoved the door open.

  Dorran bent over a wooden rocking chair. The back had been broken, and as she watched, he placed his boots on one of the slats and stomped down until it cracked.

  “Hey, there you are. What’s happening?” The room was colder than the main part of the house. Clare shuddered and folded her arms around herself.

  Dorran’s breath misted in the air as he turned towards her. His smile seemed horribly strained. “Ah, Clare. I didn’t mean to wake you. We just needed some more wood for the fire.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I can take care of it.” Clare crossed to him and threaded her arm around his, trying to pull him back towards the door.

  He didn’t budge. Instead, he placed one hand over hers. “I don’t mind. It’s good to be useful.”

  “You need to rest.”

  He chuckled and tugged her a fraction closer so that he could kiss the top of her head. “I’ll rest later.”

  Her throat ached. She hugged him fiercely. Even through the coats, he felt thinner than she remembered. A deep fear froze her insides, making it impossible to think or to speak. She just held him.

  Dorran ran his fingers over her hair. He made soft humming noises as he rocked her. “Don’t be afraid. This will be all right.”

  She leaned back to read his face. His eyes had seemed dull before, but now they appeared too bright. Glassy, even. She touched the side of his face, where the skin had turned grey.

  He smiled. “You have Beth now. She’ll keep you safe.”

  Clare shook her head furiously. “Please. Come back to the fire. We can take care of the wood later.”

  “All right. Let me just get this.” He bent to gather the pieces he’d broken. Hacking coughs shook him. He turned away, bracing one arm on the wall, as his body convulsed. Clare held a hand towards him, petrified in her helplessness. When Dorran straightened again, he was shaking. His face held something she wasn’t used to seeing in him. Fear.

  Clare grabbed his hand and hauled him back into the hallway, towards the living room. He tried to speak, but she just held up a hand. She didn’t let go until he was in front of the fire, then she pushed him down into his chair.

  “Sit there.” She tried to put force behind her words, but they still broke. “Beth, get him some more food. I—I’ll get the firewood.”

  Hot tears streaked down her face as she jogged back to the spare bedroom where Dorran had been dismantling a chair. Silent tears dripped from her chin as she clenched her teeth, eyes squeezed closed and shoulders trembling. Then she swiped her sleeve across her face, drying it, and picked up the firewood.

  Snow continued to fall all through that day. Once an hour on the dot, Clare crossed to the window and stared into the expanse beyond their house. The storm had passed, at least, but the white flakes continued to blur the landscape and stick against the panes. Their minibus waited on the lawn, less than a dozen paces away, but it was half hidden under a dense layer of white.

  A sombre atmosphere had
fallen across the house. They were all feeling the isolation and the imprisonment. It shortened tempers. Clare found she had to constantly watch her tongue. Beth rarely spoke; when she did, it was to give commands. Dorran was the quietest of all of them. He slept sometimes. When he was awake, he watched the fire with glazed eyes. Several times, he tried to rise to fetch something or do some kind of work. Clare didn’t let him leave. He didn’t argue with her, but she could see in his eyes that he hated being tethered to the fire. He wanted to feel useful.

  Clare tried to pass the time by reading. The house had plenty of books, at least. When she’d read so long that a migraine throbbed behind her eyes, she gave up and instead stared at the ceiling as she counted seconds in the back of her mind.

  They gradually worked through the house’s wooden furniture to keep the fire alive. Luckily, the family hadn’t been a big fan of paints or varnishes. The dining table kept the fire going through the evening and night.

  Dawn on the second day brought rain. Clare stirred out of her sleep, faintly aware of the heavy tapping across the roof. The noise had followed her in her dreams, making her feel hunted, her mind bringing up images of hollow ones crowding around her and tapping on her meagre defences. It took a second to separate reality from her nightmares. When she did, she bolted upright.

  “Yes,” Beth said, seeing the look on her face. She stood at the window, the trails of rain reflected like a map across her features. “We can risk the roads again.”

  Dorran was already awake and sitting up in his chair, one leg pulled underneath himself, holding a mug. Heavy-lidded eyes watched the fire. “We should wait for the snow to clear further. There’s no guarantee the temperature won’t drop again, and we’re safer trapped here than trapped on the road.”

  “I want to go today.” Clare’s heart thundered. “Right now.”

  Beth chewed her lip. Her eyes moved from Dorran to the view outside, and Clare knew she had to be calculating the risk. She clenched her fists at her side. Dorran needed medicine. An extra day waiting inside the house could be a day too long. Beth lifted her eyebrows then shrugged. “Okay, I vote we go too. Democracy wins. Pack up and get ready to move out.”

  Any other day, Dorran might have argued more. He looked like he wanted to. Instead, he just sighed and said, “Very well.”

  There wasn’t much to collect. Both Clare and Beth had scouted the house for useful supplies, but they hadn’t found much the minibus didn’t already have. They bundled up their clothes and a few extra blankets, packed up the last of the food, then faced the door.

  Clare sent one final look back towards the door at the end of the hall, where a lost son had chained his mother to her bed before he went to get help. She knew it was just one tragedy in a world that now held billions of them. That didn’t make it hurt any less. Then Beth opened the door, and the icy wind snatched away all of Clare’s thoughts.

  Chapter Twelve

  They jogged to the minibus, heads bowed against the downpour. Its headlights flashed, seeming strangely cheerful for the environment, as Beth unlocked it. Clare was shivering by the time they got inside and shut the door behind them. Beth slid into the driver’s seat, and Clare took her familiar place in the closest passenger row.

  “Can we have the heater on?” she asked.

  Beth’s voice was emotionless as she turned the key in the ignition. “It wastes fuel.”

  Dorran settled at Clare’s side. His posture was an imitation of relaxation. Even though he leaned back in the seat, he’d set his jaw and clasped his hands to hide how much he was shaking.

  “I’m sure we can afford it for a few minutes,” Clare pressed. “Just to take the chill off—”

  “I said no.” Beth’s voice developed a vicious bite.

  Clare bit her tongue. The incarceration was to blame, she knew. It had whittled all of their tempers down. Dorran touched her arm gently, a wordless question over whether she was okay, and she made herself smile. She wouldn’t let it hurt her. She wouldn’t let their little group tear itself apart with in-fighting.

  Beth put the van into gear. The wipers’ muffled thumps floated around the bus’s interior as they worked on clearing the view. As she pulled onto the muddy, snow-choked driveway, Beth glanced into the rearview mirror. Her eyes tightened with something like remorse. Then, to Clare’s surprise, she switched on the heater.

  “Just for a moment,” she said.

  “Thanks,” Clare whispered.

  Clare waited until they were safely away from the farmstead and back onto the rural road to pull the map book out from where she’d tucked it under her seat. She had dog-eared pages to track their progress. She traced the road they were following, examining all of the towns they could stop at. That part of the country had very few settlements that would count for more than a few hundred houses, and most of them were spaced apart. They would need to travel closer to the city to happen upon real, tightly packed suburbs.

  “There’s a town two hours away,” Clare said. “It’s not large, but it’s still one of the bigger ones in the area.”

  “We’ll try there.”

  Dorran blinked, seeming to collect himself. “Are we stopping?”

  Clare cleared her throat. She didn’t know how to broach the subject. I’m scared. I don’t know how to help you. This is the best plan we could come up with.

  Beth answered on Clare’s behalf. “We’re looking for antibiotics.”

  Dorran’s mouth tightened. “I am fine.”

  “Ha. You sure about that?” Beth sent him a searching glance through the rearview mirror.

  “I am fine.”

  Beth lifted a hand from the wheel then let it slap back down. “I’m just saying, one of us lost their thanites, and it wasn’t me.”

  Clare opened her mouth, hot anger rising as she prepared to defend Dorran. She stopped as warm chuckles rose from the man beside her.

  It had been a joke, one Dorran had appreciated. She looked up at him, surprised and relieved to see good humour in his expression.

  “Allegedly lost their thanites,” he corrected. “I hope this world is not so far gone that I cannot be considered innocent until proven guilty. We do not know whether Ezra’s experiment had the intended results.”

  “Well, either way, you need to put your ego aside for a moment,” Beth said. “As much as I’m sure you’d like it, this isn’t about you. Antibiotics are as good as currency in the new world, and I want some in case we need to make an emergency trade. Plus, we still don’t know how the thanites actually work or what their weak spots might be. If one of us gets an infected cut, I want a backup solution.”

  Dorran thought it over for a moment then nodded. “That makes sense.”

  “Of course it does. I said it, didn’t I? Clare, keep feeding me directions.”

  Thank you. Clare kept her head down to the map but smiled. Thank you, Beth, for making this easier for him. Thank you, Dorran, for not trying to fight.

  They had plenty of warning as they neared the town. Cars lay neglected in the road, tipped into ditches, or tangled into one another in the relics of a gruesome crash. Clare craned her neck to search the swirling fog. She thought she saw shapes darting between the vehicles.

  Beth swore under her breath. “There’s not going to be anywhere safe to park. At least, not within an hour’s walk.”

  Clare gripped the edges of the map. Between the half-melted snow, the rain, and the thickening mist, the cars were barely recognisable. They floated out of the aether like some science fiction artist’s nightmare. She couldn’t imagine trying to walk amongst them.

  “We’ll coast through the town,” Beth said. “See if there’s anywhere safe to stop. I doubt we’ll find anything, though. If the sun was out, at least the hollows would all be inside. Weather like this turns the world into their playground.”

  Houses rose out of the fog. They were grim sights. Broken windows and broken rooves, surrounded by dead gardens. It would have been a beautiful place once. Now, the
environment felt as though it had been exhumed straight out of her nightmares.

  Beth’s head moved continually, twitching left and right, scanning their surroundings as she drove through the town. She’d been correct; the creatures were active. They stepped out of open doorways and from the spaces between buildings, eyes glowing in the minibus’s beams.

  The bus passed a playground. The swings rocked in the breeze, still carrying a lining of snow-soaked leaves. Two paces away stood a figure, horribly tall, its head towering above the swing set’s highest bar. It turned lazily, eyes tracking them.

  “This won’t work,” Beth said. “The place is lousy with them. There’s nowhere to park. We’ll keep driving and try the next town.”

  “There’s nothing else for ages.” Clare scowled as she flipped through the maps. “Just farmsteads.”

  “And those will all be cleared out. Damn.” Beth chewed on her lip.

  “Can we do without antibiotics?” Dorran lifted his head from where he rested it against his window. “I understand they would be helpful, but they aren’t strictly necessary, are they?”

  Beth only hesitated a second. “No. We need to get them. Either here or somewhere else.”

  “Very well. I might have a solution.” He ran his fingers through his hair, tousling it. “You need someone to watch over the bus. You need to keep the hollows away from it for twenty minutes. And you need a distraction. Correct?”

  “I’m listening,” Beth said.

  “I could drive the bus while you search the houses. I’ll circle around the block—not too close but close enough to pick you up if you need a quick escape. The hollows should be attracted to the noise, which will clear them away from your area. When you’re ready, find a way to signal me, and I’ll collect you.”

  “That…” Beth shook her head. “That is not a half bad idea.”

  Clare frowned at Dorran. “The hollows will try to swarm you.”

  “That is fine. I can drive fast enough to stay clear.”