If hiding wasn’t safe, what was the alternative? To run through Porth an Jowl while somehow avoiding the Dawn Children? To escape?
Carrying Melissa inside the shop, she shut the door again and locked it tight.
If they stayed here, they were going to die. The Dawn Children would find them. They would flush them out and make them pay for Cal’s betrayal.
Hurrying down the far aisle with her daughter in her arms, Carrie shouldered open the storeroom door and ducked inside.
There was a small kitchen at the back. She hurried towards it, pulled open a drawer and pulled out a fruit knife. It was small, but the blade was sharp enough to do damage.
Slipping the knife into her back pocket, she returned to the shop floor and hurried behind the counter. Popping open the cash register, she pulled out some cash and stuffed it inside her left pocket.
Melissa was still sobbing, her tears splashing on Carrie’s neck and soaking into her t-shirt. Setting her daughter down on the floor, Carrie crouched in front of her, both hidden by the counter. She gently wiped tears from the girl’s frightened face, then kissed her on the forehead.
“Listen to me, sweet pea,” she said. “We can't stay here. It's not safe.”
Melissa shook her head, freeing more tears.
“It's not safe here,” Carrie said again. “So we have to go outside. We're going to find a way out and we’re going to get help.”
“Then come back for Daddy? For Grandpa Gary and Nana Joy?”
Carrie felt her own tears dripping down her face. Felt grief rip her open inside. “We have to go now. I need to keep you safe. That means I need you to be brave and strong. And I need you to do exactly as I say. Can you do that for me, sweet pea?”
Melissa sobbed. Then nodded.
“That's my girl.” Carrie reached up and tucked strands of hair behind her daughter’s ear. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”
Kissing Melissa again, she held her close and a little too tightly, then swept her into her arms. Reaching the shop door, she peered through the glass storefront and saw the square was still empty. Then she was unlocking the door and stepping outside, Melissa's arms wrapped tightly around her neck.
The smell of burning was sharp and acrid. The air was stifling and hot.
Carrie stepped forward and glanced down the alley towards the promenade. The giant devil was fully ablaze now, the sky turning black with smoke. Flames crackled. Children cried out for their parents.
They'll be safe, Carrie told herself. They left them alive.
But the fire, her mind whispered.
“Mummy...” Melissa whimpered in her arms. “I'm scared!”
“I know, sweet pea. I know.”
Carrie turned, sucking in a trembling breath. Then she was leaving the square, carrying her daughter away from the promenade, and heading for the high street.
37
NAT GLANCED AROUND the corner of The Shack and was horrified by what she saw. The Dawn Children were on the other side now, reaching for the door. Shooting back, she pressed herself into the wall, holding her breath, trying to make herself small. She listened as one of them rattled the handle and found the door was locked.
On her right, Rose was panting heavily, her breaths growing erratic and more laboured with each inhalation.
On the other side of the building, the Dawn Children muttered to each other then started giggling. Hidden behind those demonic masks, it was hard to remember they were just kids.
Kids who had committed mass murder.
Nat turned to look at Rose and was shocked to see that her skin had turned a sickly, grey hue. She sucked in a ragged breath between clenched teeth and her face crumpled with pain.
“What's wrong?” Nat whispered.
Rose didn't look at her. “You should go. Leave me here. I can't outrun them.”
Nat shook her head wildly from side to side.
Rose gasped, clutched a hand to her shoulder. “I'm telling you – go! Now!”
“Quiet!” Nat hissed. She was growing more terrified by the second. Something was wrong with Rose. She looked ill. Gravely ill.
Now, she could smell burning. Nat sniffed the air and recoiled at the sharp aroma of smoke. She heard the Dawn Children laugh again. Twisting around to face The Shack, she leaned out and saw a thin trail of smoke rising up from the other side of the building.
“Oh, shit!”
They'd set fire to the beach bar. They were going to burn it to the ground.
Terrified screams rang out from the people inside. Nat stood frozen, her mind racing. Then she lunged out and grabbed Rose by the wrist.
“Come on, we have to go!”
Rose pulled away from Nat. She moaned, clutching at her chest, pulling at the neck of her dress. Her skin had turned the colour of cement. “I...can't! It hurts! Please, Nat...Please go!”
Inside The Shack, the screams grew louder. There was a loud crash as something toppled over. More smoke billowed into the air, the stench of burning wood thick and pungent.
“Rose! What’s wrong with you?” Nat gasped, unable to mask the fear in her voice.
But Rose's eyes were rolling in the back of her head. She cried out, raking fingers across her chest.
Nat froze, paralysed by fear. Rose hadn’t drunk the poisoned cider. But the way she was clawing at her arm, at her chest...
She’s having a heart attack!
This wasn't happening. None of it was real. Nat pinched herself hard. Then pinched again. But Rose was still in the throes of agony. The Shack was still on fire. And now, to Nat’s horror, she saw the bright red masks of the Dawn Children, sharp teeth flashing, blood smearing their clothes, as one emerged on her left, the other on her right, carrying sharp knives and plastic water bottles filled with oily-looking liquid.
Rose cried out again as she slid along the wall. She went down, hitting the sand hard.
“Run!” she croaked.
The Dawn Children stood watching her, heads cocked to one side. Nat tried to move, but she was rooted to the spot.
“Rose!” she cried. “Get up! Please, get up!”
The kid on her left stepped forward. Nat twisted her head to the right and saw the other do the same. She gripped the axe in her hand, ready to fight or die.
“Please!” she cried. “Please don’t hurt her!”
She shot another glance at Rose, who was propped against the wall, her eyes rolling in her head as thick smoke and flames rose up from the roof behind.
The masked devil on Nat’s left raised the knife and lunged.
At the same time, a fire escape door was thrown open and people came spilling out. The door slammed into Nat’s assailant, knocking him backwards. The people surged forward, pushing and shoving in blind panic. An elbow flew up and struck Nat on the jaw. She went down fast and hard, dropping the axe, landing on her back. Gasping for air, she tried to turn over.
The people from The Shack were running for their lives towards the promenade. One of the Dawn Children was in pursuit. Which left only one behind.
Nat saw him get to his knees. Saw the plastic bottle and the knife lying on the sand. She looked around for the axe, but it was gone. One of the people had taken it.
He was getting to his feet now, staring at her.
Nat lunged forward, reaching for the knife.
The kid was faster, grabbing the hilt. Then he was on top of her, knocking her back to the ground, driving a fist into her jaw.
The world went white, then red, then yellow.
Her vision doubled, then snapped back, in time to see the knife blade plummeting towards her throat.
Nat shot out a hand. The blade punctured her palm and slid straight through, emerging on the other side. She screamed as blood dripped from the wound. Then the masked devil was wrenching the blade out and raising it high above his head.
He struck again.
Nat brought up her forearm, blocking his attack, stopping the knife inches from her face. With her other hand, she
clawed at the mask and tore it off.
He was just a boy. Maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. She imagined his face was once soft and cherubic. Now, it was clenched in a terrible grimace, his gaze feverish with blood lust.
He raised the knife again, this time wrapping both hands around the hilt. Nat’s fingers scrabbled along the sand, picked up a handful and threw it in his eyes.
The boy screamed, dropping the blade and clawing at his face.
Nat twisted her body, bucking beneath him and throwing him off. She scrambled to her feet, barely aware of the blood dripping from her punctured palm.
The boy writhed on the ground, screaming in agony as he dug at his eyes.
Swinging back her leg, Nat shrieked and kicked his head with all her might.
The boy fell silent. Nat kicked again. His head ricocheted on his neck. Then he was still.
She didn’t know if he was unconscious or dead. She didn’t care.
Nat stumbled back, gasping for air. In the distance, she saw that some of The Shack escapees had made it to the promenade, while one unfortunate had been brought down. She watched his assailant squeeze the plastic bottle in his hand, drenching the man. He struck a match. There was an audible whoosh as the body went up in flames. Then the Dawn Child was running again, chasing after the other survivors.
Rose was on her back, head propped up against the wall. Clutching her bleeding hand to her chest, Nat sank down to her knees. She brushed fingers across Rose’s cheek, felt the skin already cooling.
The Shack was ablaze, flames licking at the roof, smoke pouring into the blue sky. A loud crack splintered the air as something inside shattered.
Pulling with all her strength, Nat dragged Rose away from the fire. Her injured hand spasmed with white hot pain. She dug her heels deeper into the sand and mashed her jaws together, pulling Rose further and further away from the burning building.
Nat collapsed into a heap, panting and heaving and sobbing like a child. She leaned over Rose’s body. Tears splashed on grey skin.
“Please,” she whispered. She pressed fingers into the woman’s neck. Felt nothing. “Please, wake up.”
Rose lay motionless. Her kind, beautiful face soft and still.
“Please. I’m begging you. Please, wake up.”
But Rose didn't wake up. She never would again.
As The Shack continued to burn and fall in on itself, the heat growing unbearably intense, Nat sat on the beach with Rose’s hand lightly clasped in hers, quietly rocking back and forth.
38
THEY HAD MADE IT ONTO Lavender Row. Carrie had deliberately avoided Cove Road. It was too open, making her and Melissa vulnerable. Easy targets that could be picked off in seconds.
The high street had been a war zone. Bodies on the ground. A car smashed through the window of the newsagent. Waste bins on fire. Hysterical survivors scattering in all directions, trying to find their way out.
Lavender Row was no different. Carrie hurried along the pavement, Melissa clutched in her arms, the child’s face pressed into her shoulder, protecting her from the horrors that were all around.
Broken glass. Splatters of blood. Smoke pouring from a bedroom window. A desperate couple in their forties holding on to each other as they hid behind a parked car.
It had been less than ten minutes since everyone had died. Less than ten minutes to destroy an entire town.
There was no doubt in Carrie’s mind – the attack had been carefully planned and coordinated. What terrified her the most was that it had been masterminded by teenagers. Kids like Cal.
A shriek shattered the air. Startled, Carrie spun around.
The scream had come from the cottage on her right. She didn’t know who lived there. All she knew was that the scream had been wracked with pain. The ensuing silence was like ice piercing her heart. She quickened her pace, Melissa weighing down her arms, until she reached the end of the street
Behind Carrie, a door opened. She glanced over her shoulder and caught her breath in her throat.
Three children, wearing the now familiar red devil masks, filed out of the cottage where the scream had come from. They were small in stature, not tall enough to be teenagers, and they were soaked in blood.
Upon seeing them, the couple who had been hiding behind the car jumped to their feet and started running in the opposite direction. The Dawn Children chased after them.
Terrified, Carrie turned on to the side path that connected the streets and began climbing. The sharp ascent made her calf muscles burn.
On her left, the rocky cliff face climbed into the sky, Desperation Point jutting out in the distance high above.
Children.
How could children be capable of such brutality? Of inflicting hurt and pain? Of committing murder?
Cal had been capable of all those things. Grady Spencer had spent years breaking him down and building him back up again, poisoning his mind, twisting it until it was disturbed and filled with hate. Had these children been moulded by the same inhumane methods?
The video that Carrie had refused to watch had shown Cal stab a man to death inside a circle of children. Her solicitor had described their faces as blank and emotionless, as if cold-blooded murder meant nothing to them.
Who were these children? Why had they been trained to kill?
She climbed higher, her limbs burning.
Who knew why people did evil things?
Every day around the world, children were beaten, raped, and murdered, their innocence torn away. And there was only one reason for it – to make their abusers feel powerful. But these children here, they were taking the power back. Punishing the world for all the wrongdoing that had been done to them.
Carrie’s muscles were screaming. She slid to a halt. “I have to put you down, sweet pea. I can't carry you anymore.”
She wondered if, given the right circumstances, her daughter could become a killer, too.
Lowering Melissa to the ground, she grasped her hand and got moving again. They reached the corner of Clarence Row. The street where they lived. In a town that was meant to be safe. Rounding the corner, Carrie clutching tightly to Melissa, she wondered if they would ever feel safe again.
There was a body on the pavement. It was Carrie's neighbour, Dottie Penpol. Somehow, she had made it up here from the promenade, no doubt listening to the same dangerous voice that was whispering in Carrie's mind. Get home. Lock the door. Wait until the monsters go away. Dottie was dead now, face down on the ground. Head turned to the side, lifeless eyes staring at nothing.
“Don't look,” she told Melissa, but it was too late.
Guiding her around the body, Carrie hurried along until they were standing outside their home on the opposite side of the street. The front door was open. She heard movement from inside. Crashes. Furniture being turned over. All their home comforts being destroyed.
Carrie's eyes found her car, which was parked in front of the garden gate. She had the keys in her pocket. Cove Road lay just ahead. They could get in the car, drive to the top, and get out of the town. But it would mean leaving everyone behind. All those children wandering on the promenade, orphaned and alone.
It would mean getting inside the car without disturbing whoever was inside her home.
She glanced back down the street. Saw Dottie's legs sticking out from the kerb.
Carrie squeezed Melissa’s hand. “Come on. We're getting out of here.”
They crept across the road, Carrie lifting a finger to her lips. Reaching the vehicle, she pulled the keys from her pocket and pressed the unlock button. All the door locks snapped up with a heavy clunk.
Carrie glanced at the house. Something smashed inside.
Moving quickly, she opened the back door and lifted Melissa in, strapping her to her booster seat. She shut the door again, making another loud clunk. Then she was moving around to the driver door and climbing inside.
The door slammed loudly behind her.
She shot another glance towar
ds the house.
With a trembling hand, she slipped the key into the ignition.
In the backseat, Melissa was silent. She hadn't spoken a word since leaving the square.
Carrie twisted the key.
The engine roared to life.
She worked quickly, manoeuvring the vehicle away from the kerb, pressing down on the accelerator. She checked the rear-view mirror, staring at the open door of her house, waiting for someone to come. Then she was rolling onto Cove Road, turning left, shifting gears, and driving up the hill.
“Oh God!”
She slammed on the brakes. Melissa gasped, jolting forward, caught by the seatbelt.
Cove Road was littered with bodies. Some were on fire. Ahead of Carrie, on the left, a police officer lay, unmoving, in a pool of congealing blood.
But it wasn't the bodies that horrified her the most. It was the carnage that lay beyond.
A large white van had been parked horizontally across the road. Other vehicles had been stationed behind and to the sides. In a bid to escape, people had tried to drive through the blockade and had only succeeded in making it worse. There were bodies hanging out of shattered windscreens. More on the ground. Some of the cars were on fire.
At the very top of the roadblock, standing guard, were the Dawn Children.
Carrie’s hand flew to her mouth. She counted at least fifteen of them, red devil masks appearing between the flames, like she’d driven straight into Hell.
This was the only way in and out of town.
Their only escape.
Hopelessness flooded Carrie’s mind, paralysing her limbs. She glanced up at the rear-view mirror, saw her daughter’s deathly-pale face and haunted eyes.
Up ahead, one of the masked children had noticed the car through the smoke and was alerting others. A row of smiling demons turned in her direction.
Carrie stared at them. They stared back.
And then it came to her. There was another way out of here. Another way to get Melissa to safety.
The Dawn Children were coming for her. Climbing over the blockade. Trampling over the dead.
Carrie shifted the gearstick, reversed down the hill and executed a three-point turn. The Dawn Children were running now, blades in hands, gathering speed.
The Devil's Gate Page 22
