The hollow ones spilled in.
Chapter Forty-Five
Clare lurched forward to meet the creatures. She had guessed right; only two waited in the hallway. The nearest one reared its head, a flap of fat as large as a watermelon hanging from its neck. The chair’s legs hit its torso hard, thrusting it back into the hallway, and Clare reeled her makeshift weapon back to slam it into the skeletal hollow that followed. Bones fractured like dry kindling being crushed.
Cloying smoke flooded the hallway. Most of the lights were gone—deliberately, Clare thought as she spotted shards of glass scattered across the floor. The only remaining light came from the emergency beacon; it flashed intermittent beats of red across the scene.
“Follow me!” Clare launched into the hallway, bringing the chair down to slam the first hollow back into the floor. She staggered, her balance off, as the chair’s back fractured under the impact.
The two women remained frozen in the maintenance room, their wide eyes catching the flashes of red from the alarm’s light. Then the tell-tale squeal of compromised metal rang out from behind them as the surveillance room’s duct cover popped free.
Becca yelped, jumping over the skeletal hollow’s grasping arms to join Clare in the hallway. Unathi ran after her, clearing the creature in a long bound and hitting the opposite wall.
“Stay close.” Clare threw the broken chair aside. The hollow with the tumour-like growth was already regaining its feet to clamber after them. She couldn’t afford to stay long enough to kill it, even if the chair hadn’t broken. They had made enough noise to summon every monster in that quarter of the ship.
One hallway. One corner. We can make it.
Clare split her attention between the path ahead and making sure her companions were keeping up. Unathi had regained some of her poise. She clung to Clare like a shadow, her paces long and purposeful. Becca was starting to lag, though. She clutched the laptop to her chest, her breathing shallow and too fast as she began to hyperventilate.
Hang on, Becca. We’re almost there. Almost—
They were nearly at the corner. The two hollows she’d knocked down with her chair were gaining on them, accompanied by at least five more from the duct. One was so tall that its bowed head grazed the ceiling, and its strides carried it five feet at a time.
Clare took the corner at speed, praying the new corridor would be clear. It wasn’t. A shape loomed out of the gloomy smoke. Clare checked her momentum, arm thrown out to shield herself as the creature raised its weapon.
No… hollows don’t use weapons…
“Stop!” Clare cried. The weapon missed her by a fraction as the figure tried to swerve its attack. The spade’s gore-painted tip cut a chip out of the wall. The alarm light above them flickered. A split second of harsh red revealed Johann’s ashen features.
“Hell,” he snapped. “Nearly brained you.”
Clare didn’t spare the time to respond. She shoved him back the direction he’d been coming, towards the storage room. Unathi and Becca followed her, and a second later, hollows spilled around the corner.
Johann yelled in shock, staggering back, swinging his shovel. The nearest hollow balked at the weapon, its lips peeled back from elongated teeth in a furious hiss.
Clare felt for the closet door. She knew it had to be close, but in the gloom and with her eyes burning from the smoke, she was as good as blind.
Sparks exploded as the tallest hollow’s head smashed into the alarm light, cracking it. In that split second, the light reflected off a metal handle. Clare lunged for it, wrenched open the door, and dragged the closest body, Becca, inside.
“Get in!” she called.
Unathi darted after her, but Johann didn’t seem to hear. He backed away from the creatures, the shovel shaking as he brandished it at the growing crowd.
Clare dove out, grabbing his shirt, and leaned back, using her weight to drag him off balance. He staggered into the closet, and Clare slammed the door behind them. She didn’t even have time to draw breath before the scrabbling noise began as countless fingers dug at the wood.
She had never imagined a darkness as deep as what the room afforded. Her other senses struggled to pick up signs from her companions. Deep, ragged breaths from Johann. Gulping sobs from Becca. A faint whistle as Unathi breathed through her nose. Clare clung to the door handle as it was rattled from the other side.
Then a click, and suddenly, the room was flushed with light. Unathi stood by the switch, eyes wide as she stared at them.
Clare scanned her small team just long enough to make sure that no one was hurt, then she looked down at the handle. It contained a lock. She turned it and stepped back as it continued to rattle.
“We’re going to be okay.” She rotated in a slow circle, examining the walls and ceiling. Like she’d hoped, the storage room was too small to warrant any ducts. The only vulnerable point was the door. She didn’t like how flimsy it seemed, but at least for that moment, it was holding. “We’re safe in here.”
Becca shook her head in a sharp, barely perceptible motion. Her greying hair stuck to her face as frightened despair leaked out in her voice. “It’s all gone. The ship. Everything. It’s gone.”
Clare touched her forearm and felt how cold it was. “Don’t worry about that right now. We’re alive. We’re together. We can get through this.”
Johann ran the back of his hand over his chin, which was dotted with flecks of red. “Where’s Niall?”
“He… went out after you.”
Johann swore and swung away, fingers digging into his hair. Clare swallowed, trying to centre her own emotions. Niall had gone not just for Johann but for West. She’d seen the desperation in his face. He’d wanted to save them. It didn’t bode well that Johann hadn’t encountered him. Or Dorran.
Dorran is strong. He’s smart. He’ll be coming back for me… No. He’s going back to the surveillance room.
She closed her eyes, trying to fortify herself. It was hard to think while the hollows continued to dig at the door. The sound of splintering wood sent chills into her core. “We need to find a stronger place to hide. Somewhere without air ducts and with a solid door.”
For a beat, the only sound came from the hollows outside. Then Becca took a stuttering breath. “The surgery. It’s airtight. Metal doors.”
“How far away is it?”
“Not… not far…”
“Good.” The bus’s weapons were arranged on the shelves, where Unathi had said they would be. She searched through them and felt a rush of relief as she found two items she’d been hoping for: the fencing masks. As she picked them up, she caught sight of a glass object behind it. Johann, over-cautious, had brought their battery-powered lamp inside too. Clare pressed its switch and was relieved to see the batteries still had enough power to light it up. It would be invaluable in the dim hallways.
The sound of fracturing wood grew louder. A hole appeared at the door’s base. An eye pressed against it, peering in at them, before twitching hands pulled it away again.
“Grab a weapon,” Clare said. “Something with reach. You need to either decapitate them or crush their heads—and I mean really crush it, not just dent it.”
Unathi reached for the hatchet. Johann adjusted his grip on the shovel. Becca was frozen in place, so Clare chose for her, pressing the rebar into her hand. It would be light enough for her to carry without becoming winded, and it was simple to use.
More wood splintered. Clare leapt back as an arm reached through the widening hole in the base of the door. The grey limb thrashed, feeling blindly.
We’re out of time.
Clare took a sharp breath. The sounds outside had changed. Metal hit metal, and one of the hollows screamed. The hand reaching under the door retracted, and a human snarl joined the feral noises.
Dorran.
Clare undid the lock and threw the door open.
The flashing alarm light revealed the scene in horrible snapshots. Dorran leaned into his attacks, t
he pipe swinging with deadly force as he bludgeoned hollows away. He was painted in red, teeth bared and eyes narrowed. Shadows crept up behind him, and he lunged out of the way as grasping fingers tried to snag his jacket.
He can’t see.
Clare dropped into a crouch and shoved the lamp along the slick floor. It skidded to a stop near the fray, bathing the hollow ones. Dozens of eyes caught in the glow, their bared and bloodied teeth sparkling. The nearest creatures retreated from the light, sending up a cacophony of wails. Dorran straightened, swiping a hand over the red across his features.
“Clare?” he called, snatching up the lantern and backing towards the open door. “All right?”
“Fine. Johann’s here. Did you find Niall?”
He shook his head, and Clare’s heart sank. She braced herself, pulling the helmets out from under her arm. “We were planning to go to the surgery room. It’s airtight and has solid doors.”
Dorran kept his back to her, facing the hall, swinging the pipe as a hollow crept too close to the light. It darted back, chattering. “Good. I’ll go first. Johann, guard the back.”
Clare pulled Becca up to her side. “The helmet will keep you safe,” she whispered as she pushed it into place, folding the cloth down around her neck and tucking it into her jacket’s collar. “Just follow me. We’ll watch out for you.”
She hefted the second helmet, aiming for Unathi.
“Clare.” Dorran pointed his pipe at her. “Put that mask on.”
She glared at him as she closed the distance between herself and Unathi.
“Clare, no.”
Ignoring Unathi’s confused recoil, Clare pushed the helmet on over her head.
“You are infuriating,” Dorran said. Then, as though he wasn’t able to stop it, the corners of his mouth curled up. “I am so in love with you.”
“Same back at you. Let’s go.”
Dorran passed her the lamp to keep his hands free. Clare held it high to illuminate their group as she followed close behind Dorran, hatchet at her side, switching her attention between the hallways around them, watching for any hollows that were creeping too close.
Dorran kept the pace brisk but didn’t try to break into a run. He continuously glanced back to check that they were holding together. Johann brought up the formation’s rear, weapon swinging in slow, threatening loops.
The monsters’ fear of the light was fleeting. Already, they were creeping closer, teeth snapping and bony hands stretching forward. Dorran’s pipe broke one of the grasping arms with a well-aimed swipe.
“Take the right up ahead.” Becca’s voice sounded wheezy, like she was close to being sick. Clare knew the cloistering mask couldn’t be helping.
A hulking creature blocked the path. It ducked underneath Dorran’s pipe. He lifted his foot and kicked its face, twisting the head back and forcing it into the wall. Another blow from the pipe brought it to the floor, and he kept moving. Clare put herself between the others and the twitching crawler. As she did so, her swinging lamp illuminated the two other hallways branching off from the intersection. Its glow cut through the twisting smoke and illuminated a distant figure.
Her heart missed a beat. Niall stood in the hallway, twenty paces away. With smoke coiling around him, he seemed ethereal, more ghost than human. His freckles stood out starkly against his white face, which glistened with sweat. The lower half of his body vanished into the smoke. He reached a hand out towards them, his eyes wide.
“Niall!” The word escaped Clare as a scream. He was real. He was terrified. She didn’t know how long he had been lost in the darkness, chased by phantoms he couldn’t see, but it had left him dazed from fear.
Shapes moved behind him. Clare’s stomach turned. She lurched forward, a warning on her tongue. She was too late. Niall fell as hands grasped his legs and dragged him back.
Chapter Forty-Six
“Niall!” Johann broke past her, clipping the lantern with his elbow and sending it swinging. The hollows that had been following him sent up a chattering wail as they lunged forward.
Clare lashed out, reverberations running along her arms as she beat the creatures back. Dorran appeared next to her, joining the battle, one arm nudging her behind himself. “Get to the surgery!”
Her mouth was dry, her legs locked. A deep, overwhelming nausea rose up, and at the same time, ice poured down her spine.
Niall was screaming. Not from fear or shock but from pain. Gut-wrenching cries forced their way out of him against his will.
She blinked and saw the memory of Beth crouched over Dorran’s unmoving form, fire-lit blood running from her lips. She blinked again. Dorran was streaking down the hallway, so fast and sleek that he seemed to blend into the smoke. Niall was no longer visible. A pile of hollows swarmed, dozens of them, jaws stretched and eyes rolling with ecstasy.
Clare moved to run after Dorran, but she forced herself to stop. Unathi and Becca clung to her, shaking. They would be easy prey if she left them. Dorran was right: she needed to get them to the surgery.
Movement came from her left, and she swung blindly, clipping a monster that had darted forward. It snarled at her then turned, racing down the hall to join its companions and their feast.
Screams flowed around them. Clare thought she would be sick if she didn’t block her ears. Becca was crying openly, the sobs barely audible under the onslaught of noise.
Dorran and Johann were in the middle of the fray, fighting with a fury she had never seen before. Part of a hollow’s skull flicked down the hallway, leaving a trail of blood as it skidded into the wall. More hollows were closing in on them. But even more were converging on Clare’s group. Clare dropped the lantern, praying the distant light would be enough to help Dorran and Johann see, while still lighting her path.
“Go!” she yelled, grabbing Becca’s and Unathi’s shoulders, and pushed them down the hallway. They moved stiffly, as though they had forgotten how to walk. She could see two large metal doors up ahead.
Niall’s screams had faded. Clare grit her teeth to keep her own cries inside. She shoved her companions, forcing them to move faster. Two hollows snaked past them, ignoring her group in favour of the smell of blood down the hallway. They were at the door. Clare grabbed the handle, but it wouldn’t turn. A keypad was set into the wall beside it. She swung towards Unathi. “It’s locked.”
The masked face stared back at her, silent and unresponsive. Clare grabbed her and wrenched the helmet off. Unathi stared blankly, unseeing, her lips opening and closing without making noise.
There was no time for gentle coaxing. Clare pushed the doctor closer to the keypad. “The door! Unlock it!”
“Oh…” The word sounded wheezy. She punched in a series of numbers that must have been muscle memory by that point. The door hissed, and the metal panels slid open. The room inside was pitch-black, but the air was clean, void of either the stench of blood or the musky taint of hollows.
“Get the lights on.” Clare forced the two women past her then turned back to the hallway. Blood sprayed across the walls. Bodies lay in clumps. The fighting was worse, though. More of the creatures had joined the fray. Clare felt sick. Just how many are there?
A figure emerged from the turmoil. It was too far away to see its features, but the broad shoulders belonged to Dorran. He carried something.
Clare stepped into the hallway, a hand held out to guide him forward. He put his head down and broke into a run. As he passed the lantern, Clare caught a glimpse of his burden.
Niall was limp. In Dorran’s arms, he looked more like a child than a man. His clothes hung in scraps, and a glimpse of the flesh underneath made Clare’s heart flip.
Hollow teeth, dripping red, grinning. Beth.
She forced the sickness down, pushing the image of her sister away. Ringing filled her ears. She relished it, grateful for the dimming of the monsters’ cries. She stepped aside as Dorran reached the door, allowing him to move through without breaking step.
Someone had
turned on the light Clare hadn’t even noticed. But now she saw the surgery for the first time. It held a large reticulated bed in its centre, surrounded by stainless-steel drawers, surgical lights, and baskets.
Dorran made for the bed and gently laid Niall down.
The chattering was growing closer. It was deafening. Clare turned back to the hallway and lifted her hatchet. Johann was coming, breathless and dripping with sweat and blood, the horde close on his heels. Clare reached for the button to shut the doors. She poised one hand over it, palm itching, nerves taut. Johann put his head down and leapt through the doors. Clare slammed her fist into the button as he passed, then she darted towards the door, weapon raised. She screamed at the approaching hollows, a deep, broken bellow that hurt her own ears.
The nearest faces contorted in response to the noise. Their bloodlust was too strong to be deterred, but the shock was enough to break their momentum. That second of hesitation was all Clare needed. The doors slid shut. Bodies hit the metal and rebounded.
Clare, breathing heavily, dropped her weapon. The doors were thick enough to block out the worst of the hollows’ noise. Shrieks, laced with frustration and hunger, whistled through the metal, but it was thick enough to mute the chattering and the clawing.
Johann staggered towards the surgical table, his steps unsteady as the shovel trailed behind him. One hand reached towards out. “Niall? Buddy?”
Shivers ran through Clare. In the new quiet, she could hear Niall breathing. Shallow and pained, each inhalation seemed to cost him dearly.
Her eyes drifted towards his legs, and she pressed her hand to her mouth to keep a moan inside. His legs had been the first part of him to be dragged into the horde. They were shredded.
Dorran moved in sharp, blindingly fast motions. He wrenched open drawers, scattering their contents. He had some medical experience; he’d spent time training under his family’s doctor.
“Tell me what to do,” Clare said.
Whispers in the Mist: Black Winter Book Three Page 31
