by Darcy Coates
He peered into each room. A couple still held furniture, though they were so badly damaged that they would be worthless. Rat droppings were thick on the ground. One room showed signs of being lived in within the last few years, but dust clung to the mattress, suggesting the owner had moved on some time ago.
At last, at the hallway’s second-last room, Jack found he was no longer alone. A figure, tall and thin, was silhouetted against the light. Standing at the window, he stared out at the street below.
Jack’s heart raced, but he drew in a breath to spread his chest. He placed a hand on each side of the doorway, blocking the stranger’s escape, and bellowed, “Oy!”
The figure didn’t reply and didn’t move. Something about it struck Jack as unnatural. No human could keep that still; it wasn’t even breathing. He held his pose in the doorway for a moment, watching it, then cautiously stepped into the room.
As soon as he got the light out from behind the figure, it became clear. The shock and relief caused a laughing fit, and Jack doubled over as he hacked in breaths and drew a shaking hand through his hair. It was just a mannequin.
Jack moved up to it and poked the cold porcelain skin as his chuckles gradually subsided. “Jeeze, buddy, you’ve been terrorizing my girl for weeks.”
He pulled his mobile out, took a photo of the figure, and sent it to Cammi with the caption, “Found the creep opposite your window. He’s a real dummy!”
It was a good pun, Jack thought as he turned towards the window and stared at Cammi’s workplace. He could barely see the little cactus she kept at her window. She’d been right; the figure was almost perfectly opposite. He wondered idly if someone had left the mannequin as a prank or if it had just been abandoned like the other furniture.
His phone buzzed with a reply message. “What the hell? Did you actually go there?” quickly followed by, “You promised you wouldn’t. It’s not safe.” The phone buzzed a third time. “And that’s not the window guy. He doesn’t just stand still. Sometimes he paces.”
Jack frowned at the final message then drew a sharp breath as a hand landed on his shoulder.
4
The Sightless
Meaghan sat in the plush armchair beside the window and watched the streets. A number of figures had passed within the last half hour. They’d moved out of and faded back into the mist like phantoms, never lingering. Even though the street was empty, she didn’t dare relax.
Seeing her town so quiet was surreal. There were no more dogs left to bark. No car horns blared. None of her neighbours argued or started their lawnmowers, even though it was Sunday morning. At least, she thought it was Sunday morning. She was starting to lose track.
Taj approached from behind. He’d shed his shoes in favour of layered socks, and she wasn’t aware of him until he leant over her shoulder and passed her a note.
Is it safe to open a tin?
Meaghan slipped a pen out of her pocket and carefully wrote back, I think so. Haven’t seen any for a few minutes.
Taj nodded and returned to the kitchen, his padded feet making no more noise than Meaghan’s heartbeat. That was important. In this new world, the world of the Sightless, noise equalled death.
No one was completely sure where they’d come from. The earliest news reports—the ones that had made it through before the media blackout—said they’d poured out of mines that had gone too deep. A few people called them aliens, though that was an unpopular phrase, as they’d come from inside earth. Others called them demons, but they had very little in common with the demons Meghan had been raised to believe in. Meaghan and her two companions, Taj and Lisa, called them Sightless.
They couldn’t see, and they couldn’t smell, though they somehow seemed quite comfortable navigating the suburban neighbourhood. The only way they could find their prey—humans—was through sound.
Meaghan didn’t know how many people were still alive in her street. Possibly none. Before the media blackout—before the creatures had rushed through her town like a deadly wave—there had been stories of entire cities being overrun. She hadn’t seen any of her neighbours for more than a day.
She was lucky, she knew. Her parents had been preppers. That hadn’t saved them from the Sightless… but at least it had ensured Meaghan’s pantry was filled with tins of long-life food and five-litre jugs of water. It was enough to keep herself, Taj, and Lisa alive for a few weeks, at least.
There damn well better be a rescue before those weeks are up.
She had no idea how the rest of the world was faring. For all she knew, the military was deploying weapons against the Sightless at that very moment. On the other hand, humanity might have been all but destroyed and reduced to little pockets of survivors like in Meaghan’s house. Not speaking. Walking with silent care. Terrified that at any moment a sneeze or a cough could force their hand.
Meaghan glanced behind herself to where Taj had taken a large can of beans out of the cupboard. Lisa stood leaned on the bench, her long tan hair hiding half of her face. While Taj was a long-time friend, Meaghan didn’t know much about Lisa—only that she’d stumbled into their house on the night the Sightless had invaded and was grateful they’d allowed her stay with them.
Taj eased the can’s ring up then began tugging the lid free of its seal with slow, gentle motions. Opening cans was always a risk. Sometimes they were perfectly silent, but other times, the metal whined. They tried to reduce their risk by waiting until there weren’t any Sightless in the streets, but mist had rolled through that morning and reduced Meaghan’s visibility to less than a dozen feet.
Taj had the lid halfway off when it let out a high-pitched squeal. He froze, and his eyes bugged. Meaghan rose to her feet and stared at the window, praying that there hadn’t been any Sightless close enough to hear.
One of the creatures slunk through the mist, its eye-less, nose-less face turned towards her window. A second followed not far behind. Meaghan couldn’t even breathe the swearword that hung on her tongue.
The window’s glass had been broken out on the night of the invasion. Meaghan’s parents had tried to fight back. Their bodies were gone, but the blood would never come out of the walls.
Meaghan took an involuntary step backwards, holding her breath and praying her heartbeat wouldn’t be audible. The first Sightless stepped easily over the window’s sill. Its long, leathery grey legs were as silent as Meaghan wished her human limbs could be. It passed her so closely that she could smell the decaying flesh that tainted its breath. Its mouth, a long gash covering the otherwise-empty, tapered face opened a fraction, exposing the off-white teeth inside.
It moved through the house with deceptive slowness. Meaghan had seen how quickly they could run when they pinpointed a noise. Faster than a cheetah.
The second Sightless climbed over the sill. Meaghan realised its trajectory meant it would bump into her, and she took a careful step to her left. For a moment, she was afraid that, even with her feet double-layered in thick socks, she’d been too fast and made a noise. The Sightless hesitated for a second, its head tilted in her direction, then continued towards the kitchen.
Taj was sweating and shaking. He’d left the tin on the bench and held his hands at his sides in the pose they’d discovered worked best to stop shifting clothing noises. He stared straight ahead, his lips clenched shut, as the Sightless circled towards him. He was holding his breath, and drops of sweat beaded over his face.
He’s frightened. They’ll hear his heart.
Meaghan squeezed her eyes closed, unwilling to watch, as the Sightless honed in on her friend. Then shattering glass in a building across the street broke the silence. The Sightless froze for a fraction of a second, then both turned and shot through the room as grey blurs. They passed so near Meaghan that she felt the wind ruffle her hair. The creatures leapt through the window and crossed the street in two paces as they raced towards the unfortunate soul who had been careless enough to make a noise.
Meaghan finally inhaled, drawing brea
th into her starving lungs, and turned towards the kitchen. Taj had both hands pressed over his face and was shivering.
As their unknown neighbour’s screams rose into a terrified, agonized wail, Lisa picked up the half-opened tin and offered it and a spoon to Meaghan. She tried to return the grim smile, and scooped a spoonful of beans. She was practical enough to know there would be no safer time to eat than when any noises were masked by the screams.
5
Flotsam
A body lay among the rock pools.
Leisi froze, one hand clutching her beach bag, the other halfway through wiping strands of hair out of her eyes. She stared at the shape.
The bluff offered a good view of the rock-dotted beach and dark rolling ocean. When she’d left her hotel that morning, it had been a clear spring day. Blue skies, fluffy clouds, and a warm breeze had encouraged her to keep her plans for a visit to the beach, even though the café waitress had warned bad weather was coming. Dark clouds had begun to gather not long after Leisi left the town.
She hadn’t realised just how remote the beach was. She lived in Sydney, where a hot day meant every sandy cove was packed with sunbathers and families. But this was New Zealand and a good way out from the touristy areas. The beach looked as though it almost never saw human intervention. She’d even passed a group of seals happily sunning themselves on the rocks a few kilometres back.
Maybe that’s what the shape is: a seal. Sailors used to mistake them for mermaids, didn’t they? Leisi squinted at the shape. Definitely human. There were no flippers or oily skin, but two arms dragged through the rock pools as the waves nudged at the figure.
Leisi turned to the path that led to the town, but hesitated. The walk back would take more than an hour. Thick clouds were already turning the sky’s cornflower blue into grey as the storm swelled.
The body rocked in a mesmerising cycle as the water lapped around it. She didn’t think it had caught on any rocks; if the tide pulled it out, it would be lost again, possibly forever. I can’t let that happen.
The incline leading to the rocky shore was steep, and Leisi tightened her grip on her bag before sitting on the edge of the grassy overhang and swinging her feet over the edge. She slid down the slope, regained her feet, and jogged towards the shape swaying in the water.
It was wearing dark-blue clothes. Some sort of uniform, Leisi thought, though the fabric was tattered from being snagged in the rocky surf. He might have fallen from one of the freighters that circled the islands or possibly even a cruise ship.
As Leisi moved closer, the intense smell hit her, making her stomach muscles clench and her throat restrict. She tried to breathe through her mouth, but the odour became stuck on her tongue. Under the torn clothes, his skin was bubbling—swelling—as bacteria worked on converting the flesh into gas. He lay face-down in the water, so she couldn’t see his expression, but his scalp had lost a lot of its hair.
Get him onto the beach. Get him secured. Then go for help.
Leisi knelt beside the body. The smell made her retch, and she pressed her right sleeve over her nose as she reached her spare hand towards the corpse. Thunder cracked overhead. It was close; so close that she knew she would certainly get drenched on the walk back to the town.
Squeezing her eyes until they were nearly closed, Leisi touched the corpse’s shoulder. The cloth, cold and wet, felt slimy under her fingers. She wanted to move back and to look away, but she didn’t allow herself. Instead, she tightened her grip on the jacket and pulled.
The body was heavier than she’d expected. Its clothes caught in the rocks, and its head lolled, spilling water out of its open mouth and the holes pocking its skin. With the water came more of the smell.
She’d never thought a decaying human could be so overwhelming. Leisi gagged as she pulled the figure out of the water and dragged it farther up the beach. She didn’t let herself stop until she’d reached the curve where the beach rose into the bluff, then she let go and stepped back with a gasp of relief.
The body was missing a leg. Leisi’s heart dropped. She glanced at the water’s edge, where the limb floated, half-submerged in the sea-foamed rock pool.
I can’t just leave it there.
Leisi approached the leg. The pants had stayed with the body, leaving the limb exposed. It looked ghastly: grey, bubbling, and eaten away in many sections where sea creatures had feasted. Touching the flesh was abhorrent. It was slimy and spongy, with just enough of the familiar fleshy texture to re-trigger Leisi’s gag reflex. She carried it up the beach as quickly as she could and left it beside the body.
Another crack of thunder deafened her as the sky lit up. Leisi turned to the ocean, where the waves were rolling closer, growing in size, and breaking on the bank of rocks near the shore. A huge, heavy raindrop hit her face.
The waves would sweep into the cove as the storm grew. If the police decided to wait until after the storm, the body might be washed away by the time they reached the beach. Leisi stared at the waterlogged corpse. It had been a person, who might have a family. And who deserves a proper funeral. I can’t let him be lost again.
She searched along the shore for rocks. Most of them were too large to lift, but she found half a dozen small stones, which she wedged around the corpse to weigh it down. Will that be enough? What if it’s not? I should find something to bring back for the police to identify the body, at least.
Leisi knelt beside the figure and held her breath while she searched the uniform’s pockets. If he’d been carrying a wallet, it had been lost to the ocean. As she felt around the jacket, something else came loose, and Leisi stared at it for a moment before deciding. That will have to do.
She tugged the item free then stepped away from the body, stifling her gag reflex. Leisi carefully placed her prize into the beach bag. This way, even if the body’s gone by the time they find the beach, they’ll have something. Something to identify. Something to bury.
The rain had started to fall in earnest. With a final glance at the body, Leisi scrambled up the slope. She reached the path at the top, wiped her wet hair out of her face, and began the long walk back to town, the corpse’s head tucked snugly in her beach bag.
6
Great Aunt Enid
Jacob sat in his car, staring at the house’s front. Single-story and narrow, it looked as though it could only hold three or four rooms. The plants in the front garden were almost dead, save for a bunch of straggling weeds that had survived under the dripping tap. The house’s windows were all blinded with dark shutters, and the walls were stained from age.
And yet, it still held hints of nostalgia. Jacob could picture flowers filling the front garden, and imagine the large, now-lifeless elm tree full of bright-green leaves in early spring. He remembered his great aunt, her blue eyes shining behind her glasses, as she held his hand and walked with him to the park.
These twenty years haven’t been kind to the house. What will they have done to Aunt Enid?
Jacob sucked in a deep breath and stepped out of his car. The leaves crunched under his boots as he crossed the road and pushed open the ancient metal gate. It whined on its hinges and stuck at the halfway point. Jacob skirted it and followed the blackened pathway to where the house’s front door, tall and faded, sat in the off-white plaster walls.
He rapped on the door and listened for the sounds of footsteps. Instead, a voice, cracked and raspy, called, “Come in.”
Jacob paused before opening the door. He knew almost nothing about his great-aunt, save for a handful of bright childhood memories. Walking with her to the shops, colouring in books she’d bought for him, and being given a handful of lollies when his parents collected him to go home. He knew he’d spent a lot of time at her house as a toddler, but one day, the visits had just… stopped.
Jacob had almost forgotten about her until, cleaning out his mother’s attic the weekend before, he’d come across a photo of his deceased grandmother and great-aunt sitting together.
He’d asked his
parents about her, but they seemed reluctant to tell him what had happened. From what he could work out based on their evasive answers and uncomfortable pauses, some sort of falling out had occurred between Aunt Enid and the rest of his family.
“Haven’t heard from her in decades,” his father had said, and his mother had added, in an unusually sour tone, “She’s probably still holed up in that house.”
It hadn’t been hard to track down her details; she’d lived in the building for her entire adult life. What had been strange, though, was how isolated she seemed. None of Jacob’s cousins or uncles would talk about her, and if they did, they never said much except that she lived alone and didn’t have friends.
That had struck Jacob as wrong in many ways. No matter what the disagreement had been about, an elderly lady living alone should have some sort of company. Even if it’s just a visit from a long-forgotten grand-nephew.
Jacob opened the door. It caught on the mat lining the hallway, and he had to shove it to get it to move. Inside, the house had a strange musty smell, with undertones of mildew. A grandfather clock somewhere farther in the building ticked. Jacob hesitated on the mat, then the voice repeated, “Come in.”
He remembered Aunt Enid’s voice as being melodic and smooth and her having a good, strong laugh. What called to him was dry and raspy.
I was right—she’s not well. I can’t believe my family would leave her here like this. She should have someone check in on her a few times a week, at least.
Jacob closed the door behind himself and followed the hallway. The house hadn’t looked large from the outside, but the hall went on much farther than he’d expected before it opened into a sitting room.
His Aunt Enid sat in the chair under the window. At first glance, she looked like a shadow; her black dress pooled around her feet, and her once-black hair, which had aged to steel grey, hung around her face in a long, greasy sheet. She sat immobile, her hands lying limply in her lap, her face turned towards the discoloured glass.
