by Tim Lebbon
Jude went first and I followed. Dad was down by the front door. He’d switched on all the lights and the first thing I noticed was the shotgun propped against his hip. The second thing was the phones. He was stamping on them, grinding them into glass and plastic and metal beneath his feet, and he wasn’t even wearing shoes.
“Dad, the gun!” I said.
He looked up at us, eyes wide and panicked. Then he snatched up the gun and used the stock to smash the last couple of phones.
He paused, shotgun resting in his hands.
“There are more outside,” he said. He seemed confused, moving back and forth behind the front door.
“Are there any—?” I began, but then my family’s reaction was answer enough. Dad staggered back from the door and Jude clasped my arm. He looked terrified.
“Banging on the door,” he signed.
“Is it him?” I asked.
Dad looked up and back, nodding. Then he looked past me to where Mum appeared at the head of the stairs, standing beside Lynne and now fully dressed.
“They’ve put them on the windowsills,” she said, slowly and carefully so I could read the words.
“The vesps will smash the windows,” I said. “But if they get in, if we’re quiet, maybe we’ll be okay?”
“He’s trying to kill us,” Mum said. “The Reverend and his flock are trying to kill us, so we’ve got to prepare for that. All of us. Jude, you stay with Ally. Huw?”
I turned back to Dad. He was facing the front door, and I missed whatever he said.
Jude squeezed my arm. “Kitchen.”
We went down the last few stairs and turned right, heading along the hallway and through into the large kitchen. It felt more familiar, safer, because this was where we spent most of our time. I left my iPad! I thought. It was tucked under the bed, plugged in to ensure the charge remained full. I knew there would come a time when the battery was all I had. Rumour across the net was that London was already Grey.
I turned, ready to dash back upstairs to retrieve it, but Lynne was already behind me, and Dad came in and closed the door.
Everyone looked panicked. I wished I could hear.
* * *
Fucking bastard! Huw thought. He clasped the shotgun tight, not even sure he knew how to fire the fucking thing. But its weight was a comfort.
He’d stamped out the ringing phones—electronic warbles, old-fashioned ringtones, and Motörhead’s “Ace of Spades”—only to hear the more distant, spread out ringing from outside. And then Kelly, telling him they’d put them on the windowsills.
The thudding of small bodies continued against the front door. They’d do nothing there, not unless they chewed and ate and scraped through the wood. But as he hustled his family into the kitchen he heard the first smashing of glass upstairs. At first he thought it was a vesp making its way inside, and he watched the staircase for the first fleeting shape. But then another phone began to chime.
Louder. Closer. They were throwing them through the windows.
Which meant that they were close to the house.
He slammed the kitchen door and pressed his back against it. “Turn out the light,” he said. Lynne flicked the switch. It was scary standing there in the dark, but not as frightening as seeing the looks on his family’s faces. Kelly’s was pure concern for their children, Ally’s and Jude’s were outright fear.
That fucking bastard!
Light filtered in beneath the door from the hallway, and after a few seconds his eyes grew accustomed to it. Kelly drew close.
“If we stay in here,” she whispered, “keep still, keep quiet, then even if they do get in upstairs—”
Something banged on one of the kitchen windows. There were two, a large window in the end wall and another beside the back door. This lean-to building was an add-on, and Huw was pretty certain that the windows were double glazed, unlike those throughout the rest of the house. That’s why those upstairs were smashing so easily.
Another clonk against the glass; heavier, more solid. They were throwing rocks.
“There’s no phone ringing outside this door,” he said. “You open it, I’ll shoot.”
“What?” she asked, shocked.
“What, you’re against me shooting these fuckers?” He saw Jude’s eyes open wider at his language. It would have been amusing if it wasn’t so distressing. He was scaring his son even more. “There’s going to be a gunshot,” he said to Lynne and his children. “Just to let them know we’re serious. So get ready.”
He moved to the door and glanced back at Kelly. She seemed ready to argue but he raised his eyebrows, lifted the gun, readied the stock against his shoulder.
He had never fired a shotgun before. When they were kids Glenn had owned an air rifle, and sometimes they’d gone into the local woods with tin cans and paper targets, fired off a couple of hundred shots before getting bored and hunting squirrels. Glenn had always been a good shot, of course. The one time Huw had fired at a squirrel he’d only injured it, and it had jumped through the tree canopy screaming, disappearing, only its cries of pain left behind. He stopped shooting at live things after that.
Just to let them know we’re serious, he thought. Just so they can hear the shot and realise we’re armed.
Kelly unlocked the door, pressed the handle, and pulled it open.
Several vesps flew by from right to left, zeroing in on the mobile phones the Hushed had put on the window sills. When I fire they’ll hear they’ll come they’ll try to—
A shape appeared from the darkness in the lessening rain, arm held back ready to lob something at the house, and Huw was filled with a burning rage at this bastard, this fucker who considered it acceptable to put his family at risk, to bring the vesps down upon them just because they refused to hack out their own tongues.
He didn’t know whether or not it was the Reverend, but he fired anyway.
The blast was the loudest noise he had heard in weeks. The gun punched his shoulder, smoke filled his vision, and just before Kelly slammed the door he saw the shape stagger back towards the garden wall, one arm flailing, and he heard a loud, pain-filled scream.
Kelly locked the door and glanced at Huw, eyes wide.
He went to the window and pulled the curtain aside. With the door closed there was not so much light spilling out, but he could still see the vesps streaking in from around and over the house, converging on the dark, thrashing shape on the lawn.
He scanned around quickly, saw no other obvious movement, then turned around and faced his family.
Kelly’s expression had changed. She wore a tight, confident smile as she came and hugged him, kissing his ear and whispering, “We’ll do anything.”
Anything to protect their family. In safer, quieter times they had vowed this together, and now was the time to act on that promise. He might have shot someone. He’d almost certainly condemned someone to a horrible, vesp-bitten death. But right then he felt only satisfaction.
More vesps thudded against the door, wall and window, brought by the gunshot and now chewing and clawing at where they had heard the blast. They wouldn’t be able to open this door again, but he was certain that the creatures would not gain access here.
“Locked?” he asked Kelly.
“Locked and bolted.”
“Come with me.” Louder he said, “Ally, Lynne, Jude, stay here. Grab knives or other weapons, stay down under the table, keep quiet.”
“Where are you going?” Jude said, voice high and plaintive.
“Just to make them go away,” Huw said. He grabbed the spear he’d left leaning against the kitchen dresser, handed it to Kelly, then went through the door into the hallway first. The light still glared. Thuds sounded from upstairs, and another window smashed. He could hear the ringing of several distant phones, and closer the sound of the theme from Thunderbirds. He almost laughed at the surreality of the moment.
Kelly closed the kitchen door behind them.
A vesp drifted down from the first f
loor, swerving across the hallway and missing Huw by less than a metre. It trailed that stink behind it, sour and rich, and its tendrils stroked the air for noise.
Kelly touched his arm and they stood there silent, weapons raised.
The vesp disappeared into the dark living room and did not reappear. Huw heard the nerve-shredding sound of teeth on glass as it tried to chew its way outside, to the phone ringing on the exterior sill.
Kelly drifted forward and closed the living-room door with a barely perceptible click. Then she nodded upstairs.
Huw went first, gun held ahead of him. One shot left, and the rest of the shells were in their bedroom in the holdall he kept packed in there. Maybe we can reason with them, he thought. Maybe we can wait until dawn. Meet them. Talk. Parley. More rocks struck the house and another window went, and then from downstairs they heard more smashing from the rear of the property. There was a small study and boot room back there that they’d rarely used, and now the rooms burst alive with the sound of angry ringing.
Instead of going back down Huw ran up, bursting into Lynne’s room, pausing, checking that the window was still whole. He left the light off and sensed Kelly behind him, her back to him as she prepared to ward off any vesps that might come investigating. They were being as silent as they could, but the air was suddenly filled with noise—the impacts of rocks and stones against wall and windows, shattering glass, ringing tones, and several bursts of conflicting music. Huw had a moment to wonder where they’d got so many phones.
They were above the downstairs study, and looking out he could see two shadows in the garden, still throwing things at the study and boot room windows. They hunched down intermittently, crouched and motionless as vesps darted past them towards the noise, then stood and threw again.
Huw raised the sash window a hand’s width, aimed the shotgun in their general direction, and fired.
And at the last moment realised his mistake.
Even as he slammed the window on a shout of pain, vesps attacked them from inside the house.
Kelly jabbed with the spear. A creature splashed blood, veered against the wall, came at them again. Huw swung the shotgun and knocked the vesp against the far wall. It thrashed on Lynne’s bed, tangling in the sheets, and he brought the gun in an arc over his head, stock first. A wet thud and the vesp was still.
Kelly was slashing at two more. She beat off one with the spear and another angled in beneath her reach, struck her above her left breast, thrashing its tendrils and squirming its body as it attempted to burrow into her flesh.
She opened her mouth to scream but bit it back, as Huw dropped the shotgun and grabbed the squirming animal. It was surprisingly smooth in his grasp, almost velvety, and as he squeezed and felt his fingers sinking into its soft skin, meeting wetness, crushing bone, three more entered the room.
Huw heaved the squirming vesp at the doorway. It was a lucky throw, the creature striking the bare landing outside and drumming on the boards in its death throes. He scooped up the shotgun and heaved it back over his shoulder, but then Kelly wrapped her arms around him from the side. She grabbed the barrel and held it there. Unmoving. Silent.
The three vesps circling the room heard the sound of their dying cousin, and a moment of brutal cannibalism followed.
“Still… quiet…” she breathed into his ear. She had gasped into his ear less than an hour ago as they came together, and he felt a moment of utter peace and confidence, bottomless love. We’re going to survive this.
She reached to close the door but Huw held her back, shook his head. He pointed downstairs. We left our kids down there!
They eased past the feasting vesps. Kelly held the spear by her side, ready to swing it up and slice into any creature that came for them. Walking slowly, as lightly as possible, Huw could not help but watch them consuming their dead. It was in pieces now, dark blood and innards splashed across the floor, and the other three animals were quickly consuming those spilled parts, leaving very little behind.
Maybe it’s good that they eat each other, Huw thought, always filing information. But there were many millions of vesps out there. Cannibalism would not be the end of them.
As Kelly stood at the head of the stairs, and Huw ducked into the bedroom for the packed holdall containing the spare shotgun shells, they heard a scream from below. They locked eyes. Kelly started down two at a time, spear held ahead of her, and Huw wanted to shout, Be careful!
The three vesps, bloodied from their meal and now hearing signs of another, arrowed down the stairs after Kelly.
* * *
“Another shotgun bang,” Jude signed.
We were huddled under the big kitchen table, Lynne with a carving knife in each hand. Jude held a knife too, though I had tried to dissuade him. He’d looked hurt, and I realised that he was trying to protect us. Playing the man.
In my right hand I held a roasting fork, twin prongs sharp and thick. I couldn’t bear to imagine thrusting it at someone.
Hiding under the table had seemed too passive. But then I realised that if the Reverend and his people did smash down the back door, there was a good chance we would not be seen. Not immediately, at least.
And still, silent, any vesp that got in would also hopefully miss us.
Lynne and Jude both looked up, heads cocked.
“What?” I asked.
“Something banged,” Jude signed.
“The phones?”
“Some are still ringing,” he said. “I can’t tell where they’re coming from. Maybe—” He broke off, startled, and turned to the back door. “Someone’s trying to get in.”
I crawled to the other side of the table and looked up at the back door. I could see the handle jiggling slightly, but not depressing all the way because it was locked.
Someone grabbed my foot and pulled, urging me back beneath the table, but I drew my leg forward and stood. I went to the window close to the door, pulled the curtain aside, looked out.
In the light leaking from the kitchen window I saw the Reverend standing a little back from the house, watching. He saw me and nodded, pointing a finger. A vesp drifted past his head. He did not even flinch.
I saw movement from the corner of my eye and dropped the curtain, turning around, expecting to see Mum and Dad coming back into the kitchen. But it was someone else. A very tall man, black, slightly built yet powerful, and his jaw hung open, the bloody root of his tongue glistening, seeping.
He came across the kitchen for me.
I saw a flicker of movement beneath the table. Light caught metal, flashed. Lynne’s arms swept forward then back again. The knives slashed into the back of the man’s ankles.
He opened that bloody mouth wider and screamed.
* * *
Falling saved Kelly’s life.
As her feet pounded the stairs, the three vesps zeroed in on the sounds and attacked her legs. She tripped and rolled, dropping the spear and tucking her head beneath her arms to protect it. Huw saw her impact halfway down the staircase and roll the rest of the way, crushing one vesp beneath her. The other two spiralled up and then dropped down again as she struck the wall at the bottom.
He was already grabbing up the spear in his spare hand and leaping down the stairs as they attacked. He speared one with a blade and knocked the other aside, stepping over Kelly and trapping it beneath his bare foot. It was smooth beneath his heel, flexing, twisting, and when he put all his weight on that foot he felt things cracking and crushing inside.
Kelly was crawling towards the open kitchen door.
Two more vesps flew along the hallway from the back of the house, and Huw crouched with the spear at the ready, breath held. But they were going for whoever had screamed.
He was sure it had been a man. Not Jude, Ally or Lynne. But he could not be positive.
As the vesps flitted through the open door, Kelly held onto the jamb and stood, swinging herself into the kitchen. She shouted, “No!”
Huw was immediately by her side, sp
ear coming up to tackle the creatures that would fly at her scream… only to see that a knife had fallen from one end. He threw it aside. He hadn’t had time to reload the shotgun, and the shells were in the holdall he’d slung onto his back.
A flurry of movement. A vesp fell, Lynne stabbing it again and again. Another struck the wall beside Kelly’s head, then turned and snapped past her head as she dropped to her knees.
Beyond, Ally was struggling with a tall man by the back door. The door stood open, the man’s left hand holding it wide, his right arm clutched around Huw’s daughter and clasping her tight. She struck at his face, shoulders, neck, but he seemed immune to her blows. But he was not standing quite right. One foot was held from the floor, and as he hopped towards the door he lost balance. They fell by the open doorway.
Jude scrambled from beneath the table and grasped something from the floor, standing above the fallen pair with a roasting fork held in both hands above his head.
The second vesp was persistent, twisting back to search for the source of the sound. It came lower this time, striking Kelly’s shoulder and then biting in, hard. She groaned but did not cry out.
Huw and Lynne shared a glance that spoke volumes. She nodded towards the door and Huw went, stepping around his struggling wife, his bloodied mother-in-law, and going for his children. He had to skirt around the table, and for those few seconds he was thinking, Do it, Jude! Do it, Jude!
But Jude was too hesitant, too slow.
The man stood and lashed out, striking Jude across the face and sending the boy staggering back against the table. He dropped the fork and fell, hands clutching his nose.
Huw was filled with rage. The bastard had his daughter clasped by the jacket, and with his other hand he’d hit his son. Punched him, a ten-year-old boy, in the face. Every instinct, every scrap of what made Huw a father, blazed red as he lunged around the table towards the back door. He dropped the shotgun, stepped past Jude and launched himself.
The man threw Ally outside, past the door and into the cool darkness beyond. And though Huw thought himself ready, he was watching for danger from the wrong direction. In the instant before Huw reached him, the man jumped through the doorway, foot curled around the door’s leading edge to pull it closed behind him.
