Whispers in the Mist: Black Winter Book Three

by Coates, Darcy

Dorran had. The arm around her shoulders yanked her back, pulling her down until her shoulder blades hit his lap. In the same instant, his other hand shot forward, hitting the hollow in the centre of its forehead, forcing it away.

  It screamed, its neck bending at an uncomfortable angle, the hands at its chest spasming. The two closest legs left the floor as it reared up. The toes, their nails long and jagged, flexed like fingers as they reached towards Dorran.

  The hollow’s body rocked back as arms wrapped around it. Beth was there, fire in her eyes and her hair a golden blaze around her head. The hollow’s feet hit her stomach and chest, ferocious kicks that should have been painful, but she didn’t even flinch. She forced it into the aisle and pinned it there, her knee digging into its bony chest until ribs cracked. Her hands fastened on either side of its head and began pulling.

  The bulging eyes swivelled wildly, the jaw stretching open as it howled. The hollows outside the bus heard. They responded in kind, their voices a cacophony of screeches, their fists beating on the outside. Beth’s lips peeled away from her teeth. Delight brightened her eyes. She pulled harder, twisting, and a crack rang out as the four-legged hollow’s neck broke.

  The screaming faded. The hollow one lay limp, its legs splayed out across the aisle and seats, its bulging eyes no longer seeing. Beth released its head and stood, breathing heavily.

  Clare shuffled back in her seat, a hand pressed to her mouth to stifle the sounds that wanted to come out.

  Beth rolled her shoulders as her features fell back into sullen disinterest. “There. No mallet, no blood, no problem.”

  Clare couldn’t look away from the fallen hollow. A trickle of saliva ran over the parted lips. Its head rested at an unnatural angle to its body. Its retracted eyelids twitched. She recoiled, horror catching in her throat. “It—”

  “It’s still alive.” Dorran had seen as well. He pulled her back against him.

  “Eh.” Beth kicked the hollow’s nearest leg. “Figures. The brain’s still intact, and the thanites are probably already working on solutions. Unless one of the others eats it, I guess it’ll be back up in a couple of days, maybe with some extra legs to boot. I should’ve used the mallet.”

  Beth bent, picked up one of the feet, then began dragging the limp body towards the door. Clare closed her eyes. She thought she might be sick.

  “Go on,” Beth called. “Bang on the wall to distract them from the door.”

  Clare couldn’t. She hugged her arms around herself as she tried to make the rushing in her ears fade. After a second, Dorran moved. He knocked his fist against the wall, moving it in a circle. The chattering, digging noises increased. The door creaked. Clare opened her eyes just in time to see Beth unceremoniously throw the hollow’s body through the opening and slam it shut. Dorran stopped knocking.

  Beth wiped her hands on her jacket then sank back into her chair. “No one’s hurt, right? Guess that could have gone worse. We’re going to have to reset our waiting time, though, so that sucks.”

  A trace of coldness ran across Clare’s cheek as one of the tears escaped. Beth didn’t notice. Dorran’s arm was still around her. His spare hand came up and ran across her cheek, brushing away the tear. She met his eyes. Dark and intense. Deeply sad. Lost. He didn’t know what to say.

  Clare rested her head against his shoulder. After a second, Beth reached up and turned off the light. As darkness enveloped them, Clare restarted her mental countdown. Only this time, she couldn’t move her thoughts away from the limp body that had to be lying outside the door.

  The wait was gruelling. Clare’s chest hurt. She knew she would feel better if she could just cry, but that would make noise. The keening pain ran through her in spasms. She compensated by squeezing her hands together until they ached.

  Dorran didn’t let her go, even though she sensed how exhausted he was. Twice, his coughs rose, but he bowed his head and pressed his arm over the lower half of his face as he tried to smother the sounds. Clare listened for any increased hollow activity, but she thought the rain might have been enough to muffle the coughs.

  Hours passed. The ache in her chest dulled. Clare’s mind turned bleary. Her headache was back; she wished she could move to get some pain tablets. She tried counting seconds in her head but repeatedly lost her place in the mid-three-digits.

  Eventually, tiredness overrode everything else. She let her eyes close as she dozed against Dorran’s arm. She wasn’t sure how long she existed in that fugue state, half aware and half asleep, before the bus’s engine startled her.

  Beth turned on the light above her head, her voice curt but no longer angry. “They left about a half hour ago. That’s sooner than I expected. They can probably still smell the soot and want to get back to shelter, which is good for us. You ready to get back on the road again?”

  Clare’s mouth opened, questions dancing on her tongue. Are you still angry? Do you want to talk about earlier? Are you going to acknowledge that twice you incorrectly told us we were safe? Is the hollow one with the broken neck still outside? Can you make sure not to drive over it?

  Instead, she just said, “Okay.”

  Beth retracted the metal shutters from the window, and the engine rumbled as they began moving. Clare couldn’t see outside, but she trusted Beth to navigate despite the near-perfect dark. For close to half an hour, they moved at a crawl, turning frequently to avoid debris, and Clare was starting to grow drowsy again when Beth reached a major road and increased their speed.

  “Don’t go too fast,” Clare said.

  Beth didn’t answer, and she didn’t slow down. Clare settled back to prepare for the long drive that would eventually end at Evandale.

  Dorran slept against the window, and Clare alternated between staring at her hands and watching the dashboard clock count down the minutes. It took hours for the rain to ease. When it cleared enough to let natural light through, Clare was surprised. The ground was no longer black, and the trees still held leaves. “We’re out of the fire zone.”

  “We crossed a bridge about an hour back. Didn’t you notice?”

  Beth’s voice was still curt. Clare tried not to let it bother her. “I guess I was napping. Well, it’s good to be back on clear ground, isn’t it?”

  “Yep.”

  Clare flexed sore shoulders. “Do you know the way to Evandale, or should I get the map?”

  “I know it. I memorised our route the other night.”

  “Well, okay. Tell me if you change your mind.” Clare gave up on trying to ignite a conversation and settled back to watch the mist crawling across the rugged, rocky landscape. They were back onto a rural road, with the mountains in the far distance and a ragged patch of trees spreading out towards the horizon on their right. A brisk wind snagged at the remaining spits of rain.

  Beth grew increasingly restless as the afternoon lengthened. She shifted in her seat, watching the environment around them with ever-roving eyes. Occasionally, her glance would flick to the rearview mirror, but even though Clare met the look with a smile, Beth never smiled back.

  The sun was still hours away from setting when she turned onto the side of the road. She barely spared enough time to pull the handbrake before springing out of her seat and kicking open the door.

  “Beth?” Clare had been growing drowsy and had to shake herself awake. She detangled her arm from Dorran’s and jogged after her sister. Beth strode away from the bus, then she stopped abruptly in front of a massive oak tree and punched it.

  Clare gasped and broke into a run. Beth wound her arm back and slammed it into the tree again. Blood glistened on the trunk from where her skin had broken.

  “Stop!” Clare grabbed Beth’s arm as she pulled it back a third time. Beth turned on her, face contorted into a furious grimace. Her other hand swiped around, fingers aiming for Clare’s throat.

  Clare staggered back, narrowly avoiding the nails. Beth lurched away. Her breathing was ragged. Slowly, the wildness faded from her face, leaving just raw anger in its pl
ace.

  “Don’t—don’t touch me—”

  Clare glanced towards Beth’s hand. Blood dripped from the knuckles. She opened her mouth then closed it again.

  Leaves crunched at her side. Dorran had emerged from the bus. “Beth?”

  “I…” Beth’s face twitched as she waged some internal battle. “It’s too crowded in that bus. I can’t handle it. I’m going for a walk.”

  She knew she was pushing, but Clare couldn’t stop. “We shouldn’t be alone outside.”

  “Or what?” Beth’s voice took on a guttural note as she swung back to Clare. “Or a hollow will attack me? Or are you worried about other survivors? I would relish another round against a man with a gun.”

  Clare tried to speak, but her voice broke into a croak. Beth shot her one final snarl then stalked into the forest. Her blonde hair swung wildly with each step, and it didn’t take her long to vanish amongst the trees.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Another…” Clare staggered backwards.

  Dorran was there, standing just behind her, and he rested his hand on the small of her back to steady her. Despite the greyness and the exhaustion, he’d planted his stance. A glint of metal at his side drew Clare’s eyes down. He held a long serrated knife at his side.

  She let her attention move from Dorran to the space between the trees where Beth had disappeared.

  She said another fight with a gun.

  Beth had to be talking about the survivor they had disturbed in his convenience store. As she fled the scene, Clare had heard multiple gunshots, though the man didn’t seem to be chasing her. She’d thought Beth was just behind, but when Clare stopped, she was nowhere to be seen. And when Beth did return to the bus, she’d brought the map—the exact kind of map they needed, one that she’d claimed had been conveniently left by the window, where she’d managed to grab it on the way out. The coincidence was almost too great to believe.

  No.

  Beth didn’t kill him.

  She wouldn’t have.

  Would she?

  Clare’s stomach turned over. She couldn’t stop picturing the survivor, his gun fallen uselessly against the cash register, his stomach torn open and his limbs being dismembered as the hollow ones feasted.

  “I’m going back to the bus,” she mumbled. Dorran sheathed the knife and followed. She hoped he wasn’t thinking along the same lines she was, because her thoughts were turning desperately dark.

  As he stepped back into the vehicle, he stopped, one hand gripping the door, the back of his other arm pressed over his mouth. Violent coughs shook him. Clare felt supremely helpless as she watched, waiting, counting the seconds. When his shaking shoulders finally became still, he slumped against the bus’s side, sheet white. Spots of red stained his jacket sleeve. Clare’s heart squeezed.

  She paced through the bus and found the box of capsules. She popped one out, found some water, and returned to Dorran. He mutely took the pill.

  “Have a sleep,” Clare suggested.

  She ran her hand over his cheek. Cold and sweaty. His eyes were dull. He nodded, not even trying to argue, and passed her to the back of the bus.

  Give the capsules time. They will work.

  Clare sat at the front of the bus. She kept her eyes trained on the forest, watching for movement or for any sign that Beth was returning. But her ears listened to Dorran. His breathing sounded irregular.

  The forests on either side of the road stayed quiet. Clare couldn’t stop her brain from imagining what might happen if Beth never returned. Beth had said she was going on a walk; she hadn’t said she was coming back. Clare couldn’t stop watching the clock. Minutes turned into an hour. She began to shake and couldn’t stop.

  The sun was close to setting when a figure stepped out from between the trees. Clare bolted upright. Beth had shed her jacket and scarf. Only a singlet covered her upper half, and the thin fabric stretched over the spines running down her back. They flexed with every step. Beth’s gait had changed. After spending their whole lives together, Clare was so familiar with her sister’s style of walking that she could easily pick her out in a crowd. Now, Beth’s stride was longer. Her body swayed and undulated with each step. She was closer to a stalking animal than a human.

  Beth swung herself into the bus and slid into the driver’s seat. The engine revved. Clare opened her mouth, unsure of whether it was safe to say anything, but Beth spoke first. “I’m apologising, and if it sounds like I’m not sorry, I’ll apologise for that too.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Clare knit her fingers together.

  “I’m hungry.” Beth put the bus into gear and pulled back onto the road. “And you cannot comprehend how grating it is to be surrounded by food but unable to eat. I’m losing my temper over the smallest thing.”

  “I understa—”

  “I love you, Clare, but for a while, I just need you to shut up.”

  Clare pressed her lips together. The tyres screeched as the bus picked up speed. She looked behind them. If Dorran had woken, he was pretending to still be asleep.

  Beth drove as night descended and the earth vanished into dark. The bus’s internal lights flowed through the window, but they didn’t do much to replace the broken headlights. Clare had the impression that they were floating through a void, just them and a small circle of ground around them that shifted to give the appearance of motion.

  She wanted to stop. Beth’s face was frozen and unwelcoming. She kept her mouth closed.

  It was nearing nine when they passed through a town. The settlement held no more than a few hundred houses and a narrow strip mall. Beth didn’t slow down for it. As they neared the town’s other side, a figure ran out of the darkness. Clare had a glimpse of red-pocked, swollen flesh. Then the bus hit it, and a splatter of red-and-white matter streaked across the windshield. The bus lurched as it drove over the mass then continued out of the town’s other side.

  Beth’s eyes were wide, and her nostrils flared. For a moment, she kept statue-still then slowly ran her hand over her face. She seemed shaken. “Let’s stop for dinner. We’ll have a fire.”

  “Oh. Aren’t we close to Evandale?”

  “Not yet.”

  Even with the delays, they should have been close to arriving. Clare wanted to question further. She didn’t think Beth’s patience could handle it. Instead, she nodded.

  Beth found a clearing away from the road. A crop of small, dead trees grew along one side, near what had once been farmland. Beth snapped branches into manageable lengths to build a fire while Clare poured fast-cook rice and tinned vegetables into a pot. They worked in silence.

  The night was dark. Clouds masked the sky, leaving Clare feeling unusually claustrophobic. She wished she could see just a few stars.

  As Beth tended to their bonfire, Clare went to wake Dorran. He was hard to rouse. Clare had to shake him repeatedly before he shifted.

  “Hm?” The bus was dim, but he still squinted against the light.

  “We’re cooking dinner.” Clare tried to smile, but she thought the expression came out crooked. “Would you like to get up? Or if you wanted to rest a little more, I could bring you some—”

  “No.” He closed his eyes, exhaled, then rolled up to sit. It seemed to take significant effort. He sat on the edge of the bed for a second, brows pulled tight, then stood, only to sway dangerously. Clare swallowed her growing sense of panic as she hooked one arm around him so that he could lean on her.

  As they made their way to the bus’s entrance, Clare snagged extra blankets from the baskets. They had lost their folding chairs in the shopping mall, so they would need to sit on the ground if they wanted to enjoy the fire’s warmth. Dorran had to use her to balance as he stepped down from the bus. The fire crackled a few feet away, and Clare spread the blankets out beside it before lowering Dorran onto them.

  Beth had created a pyramid over the fire with sticks and hug their pot of food from the axis. As she stirred it, her forearm occasionally dipped inside the flames.
The skin was starting to blister.

  Clare reached towards her. “Beth, watch your hand.”

  Beth’s glare was frosty. She didn’t stop stirring.

  This is wrong. Clare turned away so that she wouldn’t have to watch. Dorran sat at her side, head slumped forward, eyes half closed. He’d brought the hunting knife, she realised. He had it at his side, his hand resting over the handle.

  She felt pressed on all sides. Dorran, Beth, the USB. Everything was piling on, and their foundation wasn’t strong enough to handle it. Beth dropped filled bowls beside Clare and Dorran. She hadn’t prepared one for herself, but she sat on the ground opposite them. Clare pushed Dorran’s bowl towards him. He simply shook his head.

  This is all wrong.

  She felt trapped, like one wrong move could snap the threads holding them together. Clare picked up her own bowl and tried to sip from it. Her hands were shaking too badly. She put it aside.

  “Eat it,” Beth said. Her eyes, unblinking, were fixed on Clare.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Something dark flashed through Beth’s face. She rounded the fire, snatched up both Clare’s and Dorran’s bowls, and hurled them into the darkness. Then she swung back to Clare, breathing heavily. “How can you claim to not be hungry when I am so ravenous?”

  Dorran shifted a fraction. Clare glanced down. He’d unsheathed the knife.

  No. This is wrong. This is all wrong.

  “Please.” Clare held up a hand between herself and Beth, half beseeching, half defensive. “Don’t be angry. We’re just tired.”

  Beth bared her teeth. Then she took a step back and swiped her hand across her lips. The fingers were shaking. She spoke in short, stilted bursts. “I’m sorry. I need to get away. I—I’ll go for a walk—be back before dawn—”

  She strode away, her pace fast, her motion smooth. The spines rippled under her singlet as she exited the campfire’s circle of light.

  Dorran sheathed the knife. He exhaled as his head sagged. Clare put her arm around him, torn between wanting to apologise and wanting to defend Beth. “You okay? I can get you some more food—”