by Rich Hawkins
“You look like shit, Magnus,” said Ralph.
“I’m okay,” said Magnus. His voice was slurred. He took the tissue from Joel’s hand and held it under his nose. “I’m fine.”
Behind them, another shriek rang out. Closer. Much closer.
“Fuck this,” Ralph said. He pulled Frank with him as he and Joel helped Magnus along.
Frank glanced back at the woman. Ralph was swearing under his breath.
“Please don’t leave me,” the woman said. Desperation in her voice. “Don’t leave me here.”
Frank kept walking. He looked away.
From beyond the street, another shriek rang out.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“What’s wrong with Magnus?” asked Joel. His face was all sharp angles and creases.
Frank looked back as the unseen thing shrieked again. A stab of remorse pricked his chest. They had left the woman behind, back there. He had left the woman behind. He could have helped her.
“Hurry up, Frank,” Ralph called to him.
“Feels like someone’s playing a joke on us,” said Joel. “Some kids or bored villagers trying to scare some outsiders. This can’t be happening, can it? It has to be some kind of prank…”
“If it is a practical joke,” Ralph said, “I’m going to beat the fuck out of the little shits.”
Frank hurried forwards. Something made him look up at the sky; he sensed a presence above him, hidden in the clouds. Then it was gone. He looked back at his friends.
Ralph was slapping Magnus’s face lightly, trying to keep him awake. “We need to stop. He’s dead weight.”
“What is making that shrieking?” said Joel. “I don’t want to be caught in the open when that thing shows up.”
Ralph pointed to the open front door of a house across the street. “What about in there? Magnus needs somewhere to rest. We can’t drag him much further.”
“We don’t know who’s in there,” Joel said.
“I don’t give a fuck,” said Ralph. “We can’t stay out here. What do you think, Frank?”
Frank looked at the open door inviting them inside. A grey dimness lurked beyond it.
The shrieking thing called out again; a wailing, desperate sound. He tried not to imagine the mouth that made such a noise. He imagined something wet and dripping. He imagined a toothless mouth with fleshy slippery gums and tongue running over clammy white lips.
“Frank,” Ralph said, clicking his fingers at him. “What do you think?”
Frank looked back down the street.
“Frank!”
He looked at Ralph. “Okay.”
Ralph and Joel hauled Magnus towards the house. There was a blue Nissan on the driveway.
Frank followed then stopped at the door. Joel was calling out to see if the house was occupied. No answer. Ralph helped Magnus sit down on the hallway floor, slumped against the wall. He muttered under his breath.
Joel returned from the kitchen. He had already checked the living room. “Nobody home. Don’t know about upstairs, though.”
“Shut the door, Frank,” said Ralph.
“I’m going back.”
Ralph’s eyes widened. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, mate. Why?”
“It’s not right to leave her.”
“Please don’t go,” said Joel. “Stay here, Frank.”
“I’m sorry. I have to do it.”
“Don’t be a dickhead,” Ralph said. “We have to look after Magnus, not some woman we don’t even know.”
Frank handed his bag to Joel. “I can’t leave her back there.”
“Here.” Ralph tossed Frank the crowbar.
He caught it.
“Get back here in one piece.”
Then Frank was gone.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Frank hid behind the back of a white transit van parked by the side of the road. He gripped the crowbar and peered around the side of the van.
The woman was gone.
A sliver of panic and guilt stabbed him in the gut. Something had happened to the woman. He had had the chance to save her but neglected it. Maybe someone else had helped her. Maybe not.
Frank’s body sagged and he rubbed his face with one moist, clammy palm.
Something moved on the other side of the van. The patter of feet and the scrape of something on the road. Frank froze. His temples throbbed.
Something shrieked.
The sound filled Frank’s head. He clenched his teeth, fought the urge to scream, pins in his eardrums.
The shrieking thing swiped against the van. A scraping sound, like nails over metal.
Frank crouched and looked under the van.
The naked legs and bare feet of a man. Gangrenous lesions on his calves. It is human. The man grunted, a terrible livestock sound, like a cow drowning in a mud pit. Frank was struck by a stink like something left to rot in the sun by the side of a road.
Frank realised that if he could look under the van at the man, then the man could do exactly the same. He edged to the rear of the vehicle, towards the wheel, for cover. The man breathed loudly through a gasping mouth. The fevered breaths of a sick animal.
The man skittered. Wet grunted breaths grew more rapid.
The man was moving around the side of the van, towards him.
Frank got onto his hands and knees and scrambled under the vehicle. The cloying stink of oil and diesel. He stayed low to the ground, kissing the road. The cold hard tarmac bit at his hands. He tucked in his limbs. He held his breath. Sweat dripped from his face. His pulse thudded hotly between his ears and he thought the man might be able to hear his heartbeat.
The man’s bare feet stopped next to him. Long toenails yellowed, curved and fungal. Calloused heels wrapped in dead, flaking skin.
I’m a fool for coming back here.
The man shrieked again, the sound of swollen and infected vocal chords.
Frank closed his eyes. He did not want to see the man’s face when he stooped to drag him from his hiding place.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Ralph examined the blade of the kitchen knife in his hand. It was sharp and he liked it.
Judging by the framed photos on the walls, the house belonged to a young family. Mum, dad, and a little boy no more than ten years old. Ralph wondered where they were now. He had searched for the Nissan’s keys, but couldn’t find them.
He wondered if the family was dead.
They had laid Magnus on the sofa. He was barely conscious but his nose had stopped bleeding. Now he was a limp shape, eyelids fluttering, muttering nonsense words and moaning gently. His head was resting on a cushion. Joel laid a damp cloth over his forehead after cleaning the blood from around his nose and mouth.
Ralph found a Tupperware box full of chocolate bars in the kitchen cupboard. He gave one to Joel, one to save for Magnus when he awoke, and one for Frank when he returned. Ralph didn’t save one for the woman Frank had gone to rescue. He took two for himself and ate them without pause.
“What’s happening out there?” asked Joel. “Where is everybody?” He let out a nervous, juddering sigh. “I’ve got work tomorrow…”
Magnus groaned.
“Fuck knows,” said Ralph. “Have you tried the TV?”
“The power’s out. Do you think it’s only happened to this village, or do you think it’s happened elsewhere? Maybe the people were evacuated for some reason. What if this area is contaminated with something? Radiation or a biological agent of some kind. We could be in the middle of a quarantine zone. The government might want to hush it up, keep it all secret. There could be squads of soldiers in bio-hazard suits executing on sight anyone they think is contaminated.”
Ralph’s mouth turned sour. “We don’t know what’s happened. No point in jumping to conclusions.”
“What about the woman that Frank went back to help? What happened to her?”
“Dunno.”
“What was that puncture wound on her neck?”
Ralph took in a deep breath.
Joel eyed him nervously, hands held together like an old maid.
“I don’t know, mate.”
“And what’s wrong with Magnus? Is he sick? Is there something worse than that wrong with him?”
Ralph thought exactly the same. “He’ll be fine. Once Frank gets back we’ll decide what to do, and we’ll get out of here. Calm the fuck down.”
“One of us should’ve gone with Frank. We shouldn’t have let him go on his own.”
“Would you rather have gone with Frank? Or would you have wanted to stay here and look after Magnus on your own?”
“Neither.”
“Frank will be okay. He’ll be back soon.”
“I wish I had your confidence.”
“Just take it easy. We’re safe in here.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to see if I can find tablets or something to help Magnus.”
“Okay.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
There were great booms in the distance, like the footfalls of a behemoth raised from the earth. Distant thunder. The ground reverberated.
Frank had not moved for an hour. His limbs were stiff, like ice sculptures draped in cloth. He was too scared to leave his hiding place.
Night would fall soon. The only light was a diseased, greasy hue. He didn’t want to be out here in the dark. He had heard strange noises earlier. Muted calls from far away; and voices that were no more than whispers in his ear. Footfalls down the street. The sound of running.
The shrieking man-thing was gone. He had staggered away over half an hour ago, sniffing the air and mewling like he was in pain.
Frank let out a small laugh and there was hysteria within it. He closed his mouth, scolded himself silently. With some effort he moved his limbs. He composed himself. A quick scan of the street at his level. No movement. No spindly legs waiting for him.
He crawled out from under the van, scraping his palms and the heels of his hands. He winced, ignoring the temptation to look at the grazes on his skin. He watched the street as he rose into a crouch. Waited, watched. He stood up, his back to the side of the van, flat against it. The breeze was cold and touched the nape of his neck.
The street was deserted. There were shadows but they remained still and were only threatening in the vague shape of them in the silent spaces.
The flapping whisper of wings above him. A flock of birds shot overhead. They filled the sky, thousands of dark, frail-boned bodies moving as one organism. He envied their freedom, envied their flight.
The birds faded into the distance. They were the first animals he’d seen since arriving here. No cats or dogs. Nothing.
He had to get back to the others. They would be worried about him. He started down the street.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Something scratched against the front door.
Ralph and Joel looked at each other. Joel’s eyes were starkly white, and Ralph gestured for Joel to stay put and then stepped into the hallway. He had locked the door straight after Frank stepped outside.
More scratching. Slow and lethargic. Weak.
His fingers tightened around the knife handle. He hesitated, feeling like a little boy who was scared because a stranger was at the door. Then he stepped forward, his trainers padding softly on the carpet. Joel was behind him, eyes wide and alarmed. He was about to speak but Ralph shushed him with a raised hand. Ralph looked through the spy-hole in the door.
“What’s out there?” Joel asked.
From what he could see there was nobody behind the door, unless the visitor was less than five feet tall or a child. His mind created an image of some grinning pygmy-creature waiting for him. Or maybe the visitor couldn’t be seen because it had crawled here and was now lying at the doorstep, crippled and bleeding. Maybe it was Frank, and he was badly injured.
Ralph breathed out. He kept his eye to the hole. He sensed Joel’s apprehension behind him, radiating like heat, a mass of trembling flesh barely held together by his clothes.
“Ralph?”
He crouched and opened the letterbox, looking left and right, listening for the sound of breathing or a shuffle of movement. He closed the letterbox and stood.
“It might be Frank,” said Joel.
“It might not be.”
“He might be in trouble.”
Ralph chewed on his lip.
“Frank?” Joel said, raising his voice.
Something heavy crashed into the door, causing it to shudder on its hinges. Ralph fell back on to the foot of the stairway, scrambling half-way up the stairs on his back. Joel retreated down the hallway towards the kitchen.
“What the fuck?” said Ralph.
Another crash. The door shook. The bolt held. There was the sudden, sharp crack of wood splintering.
Ralph raised the knife.
Another crash reverberated throughout the house. The door was beginning to buckle.
Then it stopped.
Ralph was breathing hard. His skin was greased with cold sweat.
“I think it’s gone,” whispered Joel.
“I hope so.”
“I think I’ve pissed myself a bit.”
Ralph stared at the door.
The echo of violence hung in the air. Ralph could feel it throbbing against his skin.
Joel crept towards the door, hands planted against the walls at his sides, his fingernails digging into the white wallpaper.
Magnus appeared in the doorway to the living room.
Joel yelped and backed into the wall. “Magnus, you’re awake.”
Looking towards the door, Magnus’s voice was barely audible. “They want us to let them in. We shouldn’t let them in.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ralph closed the curtains and then peered between them through the living room window. Darkness shrouded the street. Whatever had crashed against the front door was out there, maybe watching the house, and maybe thinking of other ways to gain entry.
They had barricaded the front and back doors with furniture; anything they could get their hands on that wasn’t nailed down. Tables and chairs. The sofa and armchairs. A Welsh dresser decorated with china cups hanging on dainty little hooks.
His body was awash with adrenaline and he was jittery. His stomach felt full of crawling millipedes. He turned away from the window. With the curtains closed the room was dark, but Joel had found two candles under the sink and lit them with Magnus’s cigarette lighter. The small flickering flames made shadows dance and cavort like oily wraiths. Ralph and Joel had a torch each, switched off to save the batteries. Magnus and Joel were sitting on the carpet, across from each other. Joel eyed Magnus unsurely, as if he was a stranger. Joel was holding a bread knife he had taken from the kitchen.
Magnus was without a weapon. Ralph made sure of that.
“What happened to you, Magnus?” asked Joel. He sniffed, wiped his nose. His mobile was on his lap, its screen blank and useless.
Magnus looked at him. “I don’t know. I felt weird. Like something was in my head trying to push its way out of my brain. It drained all of the energy from me.”
“Your nose kept bleeding as well,” Joel said.
“I know. I feel much better now.”
“What was wrong with you?” asked Ralph, standing against the wall.
Magnus didn’t look at him. “How should I know?”
Ralph’s face looked ghoulish in the candlelight. “Do you know who was banging at the door, Magnus?”
“I don’t know who it was. I knew they wanted to come in and see us.” Magnus scratched a patch of skin under his jaw. “Remember when I saw something in the sky on Saturday night…before I passed out?”
“Yeah,” said Ralph. “I found you outside half-frozen.”
“Since then I’ve had that strange feeling – I just thought it was an extended hangover – but when we arrived in the village it got worse. It’s not too bad now; it’s fading, I think. I can’t explain it.”
“Do you know what happened here?”
“I have no idea. I’m sorry, but I don’t.”
Ralph saw something in his friend’s face. Magnus wasn’t telling the entire truth.
“And what about Frank?” said Joel. “Should we search for him? Do we wait here for him?”
Ralph said, “It was his choice to go out there. He should’ve listened to me. Fucking idiot.”
“We can’t leave him out there,” said Joel.
“You want to go out there?” Ralph’s voice had risen. “Our phones don’t work, so it’s not as if we can give him a quick call to see if he’s okay, is it?
Joel looked away.
“Maybe something got him,” said Magnus.
Ralph hated the silence that followed. He thought of Frank out there in the dark and immediately despised himself for letting Frank go alone.
Magnus said, “Whoever came to the door knows we’re here so maybe we should leave, find another place to hide.”
“I’m not going out there,” said Joel. He pressed at the keypad on his phone then discarded it.
Magnus eyed Ralph. “What do you think?”
Ralph said nothing, just walked to the window and looked out at the silent, empty street.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The woman emerged from the darkness beneath a dead streetlight. The woman Frank had returned to help. She lurched forwards and stopped a few yards in front of him. Frank halted. His breath caught in his throat. He raised the crowbar and said nothing as his eyes were drawn to her.
She was naked, but Frank felt no attraction towards her. She stank of piss and madness. Sagging breasts little more than flaps of skin. She was hunched over, and her spine curved so much that it was protruding from her back, the vertebrae shifting with her movements. Her limbs were thin and her hair was falling out. The puncture wound on her neck had scabbed over.
A grin twisted her pink, fleshy lips. Her face was so slack it seemed like the skin would slough off her skull the next time she shook her head.
