Whispers in the Mist: Black Winter Book Three

by Coates, Darcy

  Endless surfaces refracted their torchlight back at them, disturbingly similar to the way the hollows’ eyes glinted. Clare kept her torch moving, trying to count the shops. No more than forty, she thought, and most were small.

  The mall had been built on a limited parcel of land. Clare guessed it must take up a block; roads wound around it, and that minor separation from other buildings, combined with its stone construction and fire-resistant measures, had saved it from the inferno. Not every shop had been immune; she saw several blackened interiors behind cracked windows. But the fire hadn’t managed to spread any farther.

  It had been a good find by Beth. The mall was at the centre of town and wouldn’t yet have been looted. They would likely be the first humans to enter the building since the stillness. But not the first activity it had seen. Clare lowered her torch towards the marble floor. It was grimy and not just from soot. Greasy footprints and handprints smeared the surface. They seemed endless, overlapping one another, too numerous to even guess how many bodies they belonged to. The mannequins’ clothes were in disarray. Grimy fingerprints dotted their blank expressions. They had been just human enough to attract the hollows’ interest.

  The smell was the worst. It stuck in Clare’s throat as she took a deep breath. Spending so much time in close quarters with Beth had done a lot to adjust her to the scent, but it still wasn’t enough to override the instantaneous panic that crashed over her.

  The shopping mall hadn’t just been inhabited. It had been infested.

  Something heavy banged inside one of the shops to her right. Clare turned her torch towards it, searching for movement. Lightning flooded the scene, and for a second, Clare imagined she could see eyes surrounding them, flickering bright, as the light caught on every metal surface. The lightning failed. The torch seemed painfully weak by comparison.

  “Beth?” Every instinct in Clare’s body told her to stay quiet, to not draw attention. She kept the open bus door at her back.

  The noises came again—a bang, like a door being slammed, followed by the whine of twisting metal. The sound stretched out, painful, then faded until it was swallowed by the pounding rain and thunder.

  Please, Beth, please let that be you.

  Dorran made no sound. Except for his hand against hers, Clare could have believed she was alone.

  The sounds had come from one of the larger shops. Strange shapes were stacked in the windows, bottles and boxes Clare couldn’t identify. Large banners showed smiling faces. Many had had their eyes gouged out, leaving just holes in their places.

  Clare directed the torch higher. Large block letters would have once been backlit and clearly visible but were now a dull blue-grey against the stone wall. Pharmacy.

  Something banged inside the store again. Clare took a step closer. Dorran didn’t follow; he tugged on her hand instead, a wordless request for her to stay with the bus. She understood his concern. But she couldn’t leave Beth alone in a foreign environment.

  The torchlight stuttered again, fading out, and Clare hissed softly as she shook it. The flickering beam exposed sections of the pharmacy in brief bursts. Movement came from behind the displays. Dorran’s hold on her was too tight. A body came towards them, weaving through the store. It was lithe and twisting, clambering over fallen shelves, moving on all fours. The eyes flashed. Clare pulled her hand free from Dorran and used it to slap the torch. The beam stabilised.

  Beth stood in the pharmacy doorway. Her eyes were wild. She held herself unnaturally, her centre of mass low, her feet braced, her back tilted. A grin spread as she met Clare’s eyes. She straightened and loped forward.

  “You scared me,” Clare said as she came near. “We don’t know this building is empty—”

  “It is. It is.” Beth’s voice was full of mirth. “Stop worrying; we’re alone here. The fire chased all of the hollows out, remember?”

  The torch stuttered. Clare hit it again, angry and ashamed of how fast her heart was beating. “We don’t know that for certain.”

  “I do. I can tell. Stop panicking. I wouldn’t leave you alone if I thought you were in danger.” Beth held a hand towards Clare. She clutched a half dozen cardboard boxes. “This is what we came for, remember? I’ll look after you. You know that.”

  “Oh!” Clare took one of the boxes and read the label. Not only had Beth found antibiotics, but she’d found the same kind Dorran had been taking. The relief was sweet. “I thought they kept prescription medicines in a locked area.”

  “Ha! They do. It’s not locked any longer.” The wolfish grin widened.

  Clare passed the torch to Beth, then she broke the seal on the box and popped a capsule out. She handed it to Dorran, and he disappeared into the bus to find water. Once again, the dose was coming a little sooner than scheduled. Clare was okay with that. The still world wasn’t friendly towards routine, and she would rather he take it too soon than not at all.

  “Thanks, Beth.” Clare slid the strip of capsules back into their box. Beth didn’t seem concerned with lighting their environment and held the torch limply so that it was directed at the tile floor. “I know you weren’t keen on the detour, but it means a lot to me.”

  “I know.” Beth turned to lean her back against the bus, grinning into the darkness. “Sentimentality is brutal, isn’t it?”

  Clare would call her feelings towards Dorran more than simple sentimentality, but she didn’t push the point. “Did you have a next move in mind? Do you want to get back onto the road or wait out the storm?”

  “Yeah, we’re definitely waiting it out.” Beth rolled her shoulders. “Not just because of the storm but because this place is a goldmine.”

  “She’s right.” Dorran had returned from the bus so quietly that Clare flinched at his voice. He gave her a small, apologetic smile. “I’m not a fan of this place, but we’re not likely to find another opportunity like it.”

  Clare glanced around the stores and understood. Clothes, medicine, and equipment were at their fingertips, and they were at no risk of being interrupted. “That makes sense. We can change over old supplies and restock our food.”

  “I can do one better,” Beth said, her eyes dancing. “How would you like to be clean?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  At no point in Clare’s life had she ever imagined herself standing in the pouring rain outside a shopping mall while wearing nothing but her underwear. And yet, that was where she found herself… and she was grateful for it.

  The rain hadn’t eased up. But it was clean. The worst of the fire’s soot had been washed out of the air, and what came down was close enough to pure that it didn’t leave Clare feeling dirty.

  Beth had raided the pharmacy for shampoos, conditioners, and soaps. Clare made use of them, scrubbing aggressively to get the black marks out from under her fingernails and getting her hair as clean as it had ever been. A broken downspout near the doors made rinsing off a fast task, even if the water was cold enough to set her teeth chattering. She didn’t mind. She was just grateful.

  Beth washed just a few paces away, her back to Clare, humming under her breath. Dorran showered in seclusion, having left through a door on the opposite side of the mall. When Beth suggested washing outside, he’d initially tried to follow them, until Beth’s glare sent him backing away with quickly murmured apologies.

  Clare wished he could have stayed with them. She didn’t like having their group split up, even if Beth said the shopping centre was safe. But the storm and the darkness seemed to have brought out the more erratic side in her sister. Clare had to pick her battles.

  Beth shook her head, spraying water around her bare feet, then stalked back to where they’d put towels and changes of clothes under the stone arches marking the mall’s entrance.

  It was the first time Beth’s skin had been fully exposed, and Clare couldn’t stop herself from stealing quick glances to search for aberrations. She was relieved to see the ridges on Beth’s back were the only significant changes. She thought her sis
ter’s knees might be more pronounced, and her ribs seemed to stand out more sharply against her skin, but that could have more to do with an intermittent diet than anything else. Beth had eaten regular meals in her bunker before she’d begun to understand how deep the mutations were. The first few days with Clare and Dorran had also ensured she ate. But since her secret was out, she had begun to avoid food unless it was forced on her.

  Clare held her breath as she dunked her head under the waterspout a final time. The deluge beat on her like a waterfall, worsening the headache, but at least it was a fast way to make sure the soap was washed away. She shivered as she jogged back to the shelter, where her sister was already zipping up a jacket.

  “Better?” Beth asked as she tossed Clare a towel.

  “Much.” Teeth chattering, Clare rushed to dry herself. She had a new outfit set out for her on one of the wooden benches: layers of fresh wools and cottons to keep her warm. It had been so long since she’d felt clean that she could have moaned as she tugged her new top on.

  Beth, grinning, lounged on the seat. She’d picked clothes that mimicked her old outfit. The dark jeans tucked neatly into sturdy boots, and the leather jacket had a high collar to disguise her neck. Even though she no longer needed to hide, Clare guessed Beth still didn’t like having her symptoms on display. As Clare struggled into jeans, Beth gazed across the rain-drenched husks of buildings around them. “It’s beautiful.”

  “I guess.” Clare would have gone with different words. Depressing. Bleak. Lonely. “It’s nice to not worry about being interrupted, at least.”

  “Oh, it sure is.” Beth’s posture was open and relaxed. “The rain’s helping too. It’ll get rid of the ash. Clean the world.”

  “Mm.” She didn’t know about cleaning the world, but Clare couldn’t complain about having less ash to deal with. She squeezed her hair in the towel. Beth was letting hers dry naturally, even though it dripped onto her shoulders, and Clare supposed she didn’t have much of a choice except to do the same. The shopping mall might have hair dryers but no electricity.

  Beth watched Clare towel her hair for a moment then rose. “I’ll comb your hair. Sit.”

  She waved to the bench she’d just occupied, and Clare obediently sank into it. A second later, a comb grazed over the top of her head. She relaxed back, content to watch the leafless trees surrounding the parking lot sway under the deluge.

  Beth half sighed, half laughed as she pulled the comb through Clare’s hair. “I used to do this all the time. Remember?”

  “I do.” Back in their old life, before the stillness, before Clare had moved into her own home, Beth had always brushed her hair after showers. Sometimes they would sit in the living room and watch sitcom reruns while they did it, arranged very similarly to that afternoon: Clare sitting, usually cross-legged, Beth standing behind, chatting and laughing.

  “I miss that.” A note of tenderness entered Beth’s voice. “I missed you. After you moved out, I mean.”

  “Yeah. I missed you too.”

  Beth chuckled. “I was mad that you moved so far away. I didn’t ever tell you that, but I was.”

  Clare smiled. “Don’t worry, I guessed.”

  “It was four hours. I know the houses in Winthrop were cheaper, but I wish you could have found something closer to me. Four hours was too far. There was no way for me to reach you quickly if something went wrong.”

  Clare took a steadying breath. “I mean, that was part of the reason I moved out, you know?”

  The comb fell still. “No. What?”

  “I needed to learn how to be an adult.” Clare shrugged. She tried to keep her voice light and easy to make it feel like a casual conversation. “You loved me. And I always, always knew that. But because you loved me so much, you wanted to help me with everything. You… you wanted to make sure nothing ever hurt me, and that was good, but—” But it meant I never got the chance to figure stuff out for myself.

  The first six month of living alone had been brutal. Clare had needed to learn hundreds of life lessons she didn’t feel equipped for. Who to call when she spun her car off the road during her first winter. How to budget. How to handle a disagreement with her neighbour. Even the most basic lessons—things that she thought she should have learned before she was ten—like how to deal with disappointment if the store ran out of her favourite brownies.

  During those first six months, the temptation to call Beth had been constant. Her sister would have gladly fixed everything. She would have argued with the neighbour and organised for the car to be repaired. She would have driven to Clare’s home and baked the brownies Clare was craving. All Clare had to do was ask.

  But even if Beth had been able to fix every problem Clare encountered, it would have never fixed the biggest problem: that Clare needed to know how to survive on her own. She’d never told Beth about the constant frustration and stress those first six months had created. And she hadn’t told Beth about the growth that had followed either. But she had grown. She felt like she’d come further in her first year alone than she had in the previous ten.

  “You didn’t want me in your life?” The kindness in Beth’s voice was replaced with pain.

  Clare grimaced, mentally kicking herself. “Of course not. I love you more than anything. I just—I needed to know how to be independent. I couldn’t ask you to take care of me forever.”

  The comb began moving again. The strokes were no longer smooth and slow; they were harsh. Beth hit a snag, and Clare bit back on a gasp.

  “We’re family,” Beth said. “And family is supposed to look after each other. They protect each other.”

  “Of course. You’re right.” Clare, desperate to defuse the conversation, tried to smile. “That’s why I came for you after the stillness. We’re family; moving away doesn’t change that. We stick together when it counts.”

  The comb didn’t slow. “You just proved my point.”

  “Beth?”

  “That maybe you wouldn’t have had to drive two days across the country and risk dying if you hadn’t lived so bloody far away.”

  “Ah.” Clare flinched as the comb scraped the top of her ear. She tried to shy away, but Beth planted a hand on her shoulder and forced her back down.

  “Stop squirming. I’m trying to brush your hair.”

  “Beth, slow down—”

  “Maybe if you hadn’t moved so far away, we could have both been safe in the bunker. If you hadn’t moved so far away, you wouldn’t have had to take on this creep who barely knows how to talk.”

  “Stop—”

  “If you hadn’t moved away, I wouldn’t have had to stand at my open bunker door waiting for you. If you hadn’t moved away, I’d still be human.”

  The comb snagged a tangle. Instead of backing up, Beth pulled harder. Clare cried out as hair tore free. She lurched out of the chair and staggered away from her sister, until her back hit one of the stone pillars flanking the broken doorway.

  They stared at each other, both breathing heavily. Beth’s expression was wild, teeth exposed, lips twitching. Clare raised a hand to her burning scalp as her eyes watered. The tears weren’t from pain. For the first time in her life, Clare felt truly afraid of her sister.

  Beth glanced down at the comb. A clump of Clare’s hair hung from it. The ferocity in her expression faded and was replaced with shock as the comb dropped to the ground. “Oh. Oh, no, no. I’m sorry. Oh, Clare, I—I’m so—”

  The fear faded. Clare stepped away from the pillar and cautiously wrapped her arms around Beth’s shoulders. Beth hugged her back, her body shaking with ragged sobs. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “I know. We’re okay.” Clare buried her face into the damp golden hair.

  “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean anything to end up like this.”

  “I know.”

  “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have said it was. I’m the idiot who left my bunker door open. I…” Beth moaned under her breath. “I did
it because I thought you were gone. After the call disconnected, and you didn’t arrive, and I thought… I didn’t want to go on in the world without you. And then I felt it start to infect me, and my damn survival instinct kicked in and overrode everything else. If I’d just picked a camp—alive or dead—and stuck to it, we never would have ended up here.”

  The lump in Clare’s throat ached. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Not your fault.” Beth repeated the phrase with conviction. She pulled back, her face wet and lips pale. “I’m just… please, please, once this is all over, please don’t hold this against me. It’s not who I am.”

  Clare flinched as Beth’s fingers grazed over the back of her head, where she’d lost hair. Beth’s lips pulled back as deep regret flooded her expression.

  “This isn’t me. I never, ever wanted to hurt you.”

  “I know.” Clare was lost for what else to say. She felt as though she were losing Beth to the thanites one inch at a time. The volatile, violent parts hadn’t originated in her sister. But they were still present. And they still hurt.

  “I just wanted to brush your hair again.” The pained edge to her voice was unmistakable. “He got to brush it yesterday. It always used to be our thing. I—I don’t like feeling like he’s taking you away from me.”

  Clare lifted her eyebrows, trying to get Beth to understand how sincerely she meant the words. “He’s not. We’re in this together, all three of us.”

  “I know that. But he’s the one who gets to have you once this is all over with.” Beth’s mouth twisted into an imitation of a smile. “When we get to Evandale, I’ll die, and he’ll have you all to himself. And it feels so… so unfair. Why does he get to keep you when I have to say goodbye? Because I left a door open a minute too long? It’s so senseless.”