Voices in the Snow

by Darcy Coates

  Clare warred with herself as she brought out the second set of water. Changing the tyres would waste time. But it might be a wise precaution, depending on how serious the situation turned out to be.

  It felt surreal. She still held on to the idea that it might be some kind of misunderstanding. Some sort of elaborate April Fools’ prank at the wrong time of the year. Or maybe there was a simple explanation for it all. Broken communication satellites. A solar flare. Something. Because entire cities couldn’t just vanish.

  Give it a couple of hours, and it will all make sense. You’ll regret buying into the hysteria.

  But something inside her told her she wouldn’t. She could overprepare and look like an idiot when the whole thing turned out to be a mistake, or she could underprepare and risk regretting it later. The consequences of one were so much worse than the other.

  As she slammed the last two jugs of water into the car’s boot, a speck of water hit her cheek. It was cold in the way that recently melted snow felt. The grey sky was turning thunderous.

  Play it safe, Bethany’s voice whispered. Put the snow tyres on.

  She’d gotten pretty efficient at changing the tyres since moving to her cottage. Clare hauled them out of the shed and set about the task in something that looked like a frenzy. Dirt scuffed over her clothes, but she barely noticed.

  By the time she’d fastened the final tyre, snow was starting to fall in earnest. It had taken precious minutes, but it was better than becoming stranded in the middle of nowhere. She ran through a mental checklist. Clothes. Food. Water. Beth would provide the shelter. She just had to pick up Marnie on the way.

  She slid into the driver’s seat and turned the key.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The windshield wipers made a rhythmic thumping noise as they fought to keep her front window clear. They were on the fastest setting, but it wasn’t helping much.

  The snowstorm had risen in what felt like no time at all. Even with the snow tyres, the car was barely coping. Clare coaxed it along as quickly as she dared in the near-zero visibility.

  She’d tried listening to the news reports on the radio until the distortion made them impossible to hear. No one could agree on what was happening. The quiet zones were spreading with new ones appearing every minute. Anyone who was brave or foolish enough to go into them wasn’t heard from again. A small handful of people were reported to have stumbled out of the affected areas, but they were delirious and incoherent. Beth said there was footage of a man being carried into a hospital by people in hazmat suits. He’d been writhing and screaming words that made no sense. Shortly after that footage was broadcast, the hospital’s power had died and the people inside had stopped answering calls. It was declared a new quiet zone.

  The mobile in Clare’s cup holder crackled, and Beth’s voice came through, thin and broken. “It’s too danger—s. Turn ba—”

  “It’s going to be okay.” Clare prayed she was right. “I’m picking up Aunt Marnie. I’ll be there before noon as long as none of the roads are closed. We’ll phone you and make a new plan then.”

  Some people on the radio had claimed the stillness event was some kind of chemical warfare mixed with electromagnetic pulses. The attacks seemed centred on the largest cities. The few brave souls who lived on the edges of the quiet zones and refused to be evacuated shared videos of explosions and flashing lights. No airborne missiles or foreign planes had been detected, though. Most of the experts seemed to agree that it wasn’t active bombing. But the most bizarre thing was that no one claimed responsibility. Every country capable of an attack on such a large scale had been affected.

  Some people said it was end times, that the good were being sifted from the sinful. They said those who didn’t believe would be left to suffer on earth. Others thought it was an alien invasion. Rumours were rife in laymen’s circles. Beth had been repeating some of the tweets to Clare over the phone before the social media sites had gone down.

  New information still dribbled in, but it was becoming harder and harder to verify as communication networks failed. Many claimed the military had been mobilised, but no one seemed to know against what.

  The emergency response lines were begging people not to call them unless there was a life-threatening injury. Their lines had been swamped, and several of their operating centres had been swallowed by the quiet zones. The ones still operating urgently repeated that they were prioritising life-and-death situations and were powerless to look for lost family and friends in the uncontactable areas. They weren’t even responding to the mass lootings or rioting that was spreading through the remaining cities.

  A dark, hulking shape emerged from the white on the side of the road, and Clare squinted as she tried to make it out. It was only when she was nearly beside it that she realised she was looking at two cars, parked end to end, with their doors open.

  “Dangerous—” The phone’s static was growing worse. “Don’t—as—safe!”

  Clare slowed to a crawl as she passed the cars. They were empty. The internal lights created a soft glow over the flecks of white and the children’s toys bundled into one of the rear seats.

  She pressed down on the accelerator to get back up to speed. The steady thd thd thd of the windshield wipers matched her heart rate. The phone’s crackles no longer played in the background.

  Clare reached for her mobile blindly, not prepared to take her eyes off the road, and tried redialling. It refused to place the call.

  “Come on,” Clare whispered. She had a terrible mental image of Beth’s suburb being swallowed and turned into a quiet zone. Beth was smart. She would have run to her bunker at the first sign of danger. More likely, though, the phone lines had been overwhelmed, and the telecommunications networks had gone down.

  She, Bethany, and Marnie should be safe, at least for a little while longer. The attacks—if that really was what they were—seemed to have been concentrated on cities and heavily populated areas. Clare’s small family all lived on remote properties. There were no houses near Banksy Forest. They should still have time.

  Something darted past the car, moving low to the ground. Clare reflexively twisted the steering wheel and barely managed to correct her course before the car began to spin. She pressed a hand to her thundering heart.

  What was that? A fox?

  She didn’t have the luxury of time to focus on it. Shadows appeared in the distance, and Clare let out a sigh as she recognised the formation. She’d reached the edge of the Banksy Forest. And that meant safety… from the storm, at least.

  As her car coasted into the trees, Clare took a fortifying breath. We can do this. As long as the storm lets up before the roads are too choked. As long as there are no accidents blocking the streets. We can do this.

  She reached for the phone again but stopped before her fingers touched the metal. A strange noise surrounded her car. It sounded like the whirr of helicopter blades. Clare leaned close to the windshield and tried to look up, but she couldn’t see anything through the forest’s canopy.

  Maybe that’s the military response. Though what they’re doing in this part of the country, I don’t know.

  Something darted across the road. Clare reflexively hit the brakes and grunted as the seat belt bit into her. She rocked back into her seat, breathing quickly, her heart galloping.

  That wasn’t a wolf. Or any other kind of animal.

  She could have sworn the shape had been human. But he hadn’t looked like any man she’d seen before. Wispy yellow hair hung to his bony shoulders, which jutted out strangely. His torn shirt had hung around his waist. And he’d been running on all fours.

  Clare tightened her fingers on the steering wheel. Her mind was spiralling out in a hundred different directions. She’d been frightened that the call with Beth had cut off because Beth’s home had been sucked into a quiet zone. But maybe that had been the wrong way of looking at it. What if I’m in a quiet zone?

  Her heart hammered. She put pressure on the accel
erator, making the tyres dig through the thin layer of snow that had drifted through the canopy.

  Something heavy slammed into the side of her car. Clare screamed. Bloodshot eyes pressed against the glass on the passenger’s door. Long, scabbed fingers scrabbled at the glass. Terror overrode Clare’s wits. She stomped on the accelerator. The engine screamed and shot her forward. The creature tried to cling on but dropped away within a few feet. Then another one hit the other side of her car.

  There wasn’t enough time to correct. Her car rose up onto the side of the road. A massive pine tree blocked her path. Clare tried to brake, but the tyres had left the ground. She was powerless to do anything except hold on.

  The front of her car crumpled in a wail of twisting metal and breaking pipes. Clare’s jaw hit the edge of the steering wheel, then she was forced back into the seat as the airbag deployed.

  It was all over in seconds. She was left gasping and shaking, staring over the deflating bag and through the cracked windshield at the mangled remains of her car’s hood.

  “No…” Clare’s hands shook as she unclenched her death grip on the wheel. She felt dizzy. Shock blurred her senses, and it took a moment to feel the aches develop. Her neck hurt where her head had been wrenched forwards and thrown back. A rib stung, and her jaw felt sore. But there was nothing worse. It was a small miracle, considering the state of her car. She looked down at her legs and confirmed they were still intact.

  She turned to look through her side window. She could see the road in both directions. Her car’s wheels had left imprints in the soft snow, clearly marking her trajectory where she’d veered off the path. There was no sign of anything else.

  What was that?

  She ran her trembling hand over her face then felt for the key. It turned in the ignition, but the car didn’t respond. She tried twice more before letting the key go. Her car was dead. Even if she could walk out of the forest, she was miles from any kind of civilisation. She needed some kind of rescue, but with the emergency response hotlines all busy, that could be a long time coming.

  She had food and water in the car and would normally be prepared to hunker down for however long it took for someone else to drive down the road. But not that day. Not with that thing out there.

  Beth would come for her. Clare shuddered at the idea of asking her sister to leave her bunker in the middle of a global collapse, but Beth wasn’t just the most reliable option—she was the only option. Clare looked for her mobile. It had flown out of the cup holder during the collision. She doubted it would help anyway. It hadn’t picked up any kind of signal since before she’d entered the forest.

  She still had her shortwave radio, though. Tucked into its pouch in the boot, it would still work even if every phone in the area was dead.

  Clare pressed close to the driver’s-side window, scanning her environment. There was nothing on the roads. She couldn’t see anything in the trees. She hated the idea of opening the door, but she doubted the situation would improve if she sat still. She set her jaw, braced herself, then threw open the door.

  The temperature had dropped alarmingly since Clare had left home. She barrelled into the snow, skidded, and caught her balance on the side of the car. The only thing she could hear was her rasping breathing and the whistle of the storm as it ripped at the upper levels of the forest.

  She turned towards the boot. Being outside the car left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. But she just had to grab the radio, then she could duck back inside into the car’s relative warmth and safety.

  A noise jangled through the frigid air as Clare passed the rear door. She felt her heart plummet as she looked up. A shape crouched on top of the car. The man’s curly blond hair was bloody from where he’d smashed his head. His fingers were splayed across the cold metal, seemingly without feeling it. His bloodshot eyes bulged, and a trickle of red ran from his nose and across his bared teeth.

  They made eye contact for a fraction of a second. Then Clare lunged back towards the open driver’s door. He swiped at her, his fingers catching her jacket and yanking her back. Clare screamed. She hit the ground and rolled away reflexively. An instant later, the man landed where she’d just lain, his bare feet thudding into the snow.

  “No.” Clare scrambled back. A second figure emerged from the forest on the other side of the road. A woman. Her jaw hung limp as if dislocated, and it swung with every staggering step she took. Her head tilted to one side as she stared at Clare, and the drooping lips curved into a smile.

  The man darted towards her. Clare threw out a foot. It connected with his chest but wasn’t enough to throw him back. His fingers dug into her leg. The nails were long and sharper than Clare had expected. Her pant leg tore, and Clare shrieked as nails shredded her skin.

  She rolled and kicked her other leg. This time, it hit the man’s arm, bending the elbow in the wrong direction. He thrashed back, releasing her, and she crawled towards the car.

  Her leg was on fire. The cuts weren’t deep, but the pain was intense. She reached the driver’s seat and used her arms to haul herself inside.

  They were coming after her. Thundering through the snow, bodies contorted as they scuttled on all fours. Clare pulled her legs into the car and wrenched the door closed.

  She was too slow. One of the man’s bony hands caught on the door’s edge, stopping it from shutting properly. Clare screamed and pulled harder, slamming the door on the hand. The fingers bulged and spasmed as she fractured bones. The pain didn’t seem to reach the man, though. His face pressed close to the glass as he hissed and smeared his lips across the window.

  The twisting, spasming fingers horrified Clare. She leaned back in the car, half into the passenger’s seat, as she tried to use her body weight to pull the door closed. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the broken digits that still seemed to reach for her.

  The second creature slammed into the driver’s door, and the impact nearly shook Clare’s grip on the handle. The woman and the man jostled for space as the woman began worming her fingertips into the gaps left around the seal.

  Clare shook her head, silently begging them to stop, begging them to leave. The woman adjusted her grip on the door. Then she pulled on it. Clare didn’t stand a chance. The metal bent, distorting, as the two ghouls pried it open. Clare held her arm out ahead of herself, trying to shield her face, as they poured in through the opening.

  There were fingers everywhere, scrabbling at her stomach, digging into her throat, and shredding her arm. Clare screamed and couldn’t stop screaming as the pain blazed through her like wildfire. Blood gushed. Dripping down her arm. Soaking her clothes. She beat at the creatures, but they didn’t seem to notice the blows.

  Then a loud crack in the distance made them freeze. They turned their heads towards the sky, teeth bared in a snarl as they watched something Clare couldn’t see. A steady whmp whmp whmp floated into her consciousness. Helicopter blades. They were growing nearer.

  The creatures wailed. Their heads swivelled, and panic filled their wide eyes as they tried to escape the sound. Then they scuttled back, disappearing into the trees, leaving narrow trails of Clare’s blood in their wake.

  She slumped across the steering wheel. Pain blurred her vision. She felt sick and dizzy. She tried to lift her arm, but it wasn’t responding properly.

  For a brief second, she imagined the helicopter might be coming for her. Maybe Beth had realised what had happened. Maybe she’d managed to convince someone to look for Clare.

  The delusion didn’t last long. The noise passed overhead then receded. Clare closed her eyes. The pain was fading as shock set in properly. She could feel the blood dripping, though. Dripping over her seat, over the floor, and running into her shoe. That upset her more than it really had any right to. The shoes were only a few weeks old. She’d been trying so hard not to let them get muddy, but she’d ruined them with a bit of careless bleeding.

  A strangled laugh gurgled out of her. Then she scrunched her face up as she ba
ttled tears. I don’t want to die like this. Beth will worry.

  Through the fog of pain and fading consciousness, she thought she saw a light in the distance. It bounced as it moved down the road, slowly growing nearer. She vaguely wondered if that was death coming for her. She’d thought it would be more dramatic.

  A figure appeared behind the light. A tall man, too far away to make out any features. He slowed down as he saw her car then increased his pace to a jog. His torchlight jostled with each step.

  Clare couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Clare rested her forehead against the car’s roof. She was shaking but, in spite of the cold weather, felt far too hot.

  The missing hours had come back to her, but that didn’t mean they were easy to accept. She couldn’t visualise the images on the TV or the shapes running through the snow without feeling like she was reliving a feverish dream.

  But then she remembered what she’d seen in Winterbourne. The woman with the hole in her side, ribs poking out like feathers, and the figure with the broken spine that jutted through her skin. They looked less human than whatever had attacked her in the snow, but she was certain they were the same breed.

  Clare moaned. She had spent the past week afraid that she was delusional. But as her memories resurfaced, she thought she would have preferred insanity. Because being right—seeing what she had seen and piecing it together with what Beth had said and what had been on TV—created a reality that she wasn’t sure she could exist in.

  Dorran. Her heart missed a beat. He would have been travelling to Gould in his family’s convoy at the time of the stillness event. His mother refused to let them listen to radios. He’d never heard the news reports.