by Eden Darry
Several dishes and a saucepan lay neatly on the draining board. They were dry. A mug full of tea sat on the worktop, and Loveday touched the side. Cold. She walked further into the house, feeling like an intruder, which she supposed she was. What else would you call someone who stepped into a house uninvited?
Loveday called out again, “Libby, it’s Loveday. Are you here?” Her only answer was the groan of floorboards under her feet. In the lounge a few embers were dying in the fire, and a book lay tented over the arm of the sofa. The house felt empty.
She didn’t want to go upstairs, but there was a chance Libby was sick and unable to call out to her. She put her foot on the first step and hesitated when it creaked loudly. Her heart began to beat faster, her mouth was dry, and for some reason she felt very afraid.
A familiar instinct poked her in the gut. She’d only felt this strongly once or twice in her life. This time it was telling her to get out of the house. Loveday trusted this instinct. She was too young to even remember the first time it had spoken to her, but her mother told her about it once, the only time. It was at the end, just before she died.
Loveday was two and they had been shopping in town. Her mother said she was always a good-natured child, happy and easy-going, so it was a shock when she refused to get on the bus. Her mother told her she made such a fuss, struggling and kicking and screaming, and her mother was so embarrassed by her behaviour they didn’t get on. A few miles down the road, the same bus ploughed through a guard rail and plunged off a bridge after the driver suffered a massive stroke. Fifteen people were killed.
The second time the instinct warned her, she was fourteen on a school trip to France. Loveday and a group of girls snuck out of the hostel they were staying at and went to a local nightclub. They drank way too much—which probably wasn’t a lot, but when you were fourteen and not used to alcohol, any amount was a lot—and met some local boys. The boys offered to take them to another club. By that age, Loveday was pretty sure she was gay, but the other girls weren’t, and they wanted to go with the French boys. Again, instinct told Loveday not to go. She tried to warn her friends, but they wouldn’t listen. She ended up walking back to the hostel alone. The second club caught fire. Two of the girls were killed, one in the fire and the other in hospital two days later. The girls who survived stopped being her friends. She didn’t blame them. She didn’t even blame them when they starting acting like she didn’t exist. Except when she caught them staring at her with something like fear in their eyes. She became a social outcast, a ghost. She didn’t have friends again until university.
And here was that instinct from old, telling her not to go upstairs. Telling her nothing good would come of it. She hesitated, one foot on the ground and one on the first step.
Above her, something moved.
It sounded as though it was trying to be quiet—the shuffle of slippered feet on wood—and it didn’t want Loveday to know it was up there. She lifted her foot off the first step and it squealed again. Above her, something moved quickly across the floor, then stopped. Maybe it was listening to her listening to it.
She turned and ran. She thumbed the lock on the front door and wrenched it open, practically pulled it off its hinges.
She took off down the road and ran towards the shops.
* * *
Eventually, Ellery and Rocky made it into town proper. She’d ended up carrying him the last fifteen minutes, worried about his broken leg. He hadn’t objected and seemed to enjoy his higher than normal vantage point. Rocky was small and fairly light, but after a while even something his size became heavy when you had to carry it half a mile in your arms.
Ellery reached the shops and was surprised to discover nobody was about. Nobody except for a woman, sitting on a bench hunched over. She was wearing jeans, sweatshirt, and slip-on shoes. Her auburn hair was tied in a messy bun, the kind women sometimes put up before they washed their face. And she was crying.
As she got closer, Ellery saw it was Loveday Taylor, the novelist who owned Claude. She approached cautiously with Rocky still in her arms.
“Miss Taylor?”
Loveday Taylor looked up at the sound of her name, bright blue eyes red rimmed from crying. “Dr. Jackson?”
“Ellery, yes. What’s wrong?” Ellery asked.
Loveday Taylor wiped her eyes on the backs of her sleeves and stood up. “Everyone is gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean gone?”
“The whole town, I think. Vanished.”
“That can’t be. There’s about three thousand people living here. They can’t have just vanished.”
Ellery didn’t know Loveday Taylor very well, had only met her on a few occasions when she gave Claude his shots and once when he got in a fight and cut open his mouth. The few times she had spoken to her, Loveday Taylor seemed level-headed if not a bit reserved. What she was saying now was insane.
“Look around you, Dr. Jackson. Where are the cars? Where are the people?”
Ellery couldn’t argue with her—the place was empty. But gone? “I think the light last night—”
“You saw it too?” There was relief in Loveday Taylor’s eyes. She sat back down.
“Yes. And that awful noise. I think somehow it killed everything electrical. My car, my phone, and my computer—none of them are working.” Ellery sat next to her on the bench.
“My phone too. And, just now…Jesus.” She shivered, and her eyes welled with tears again. “Where is everyone?”
Ellery didn’t know her, but she recognized fear, and Loveday Taylor looked scared. Ellery felt awkward. She wasn’t good with emotional displays. Part of her wanted sit closer and take Loveday’s hand, provide some sort of comfort. This might have something to do with the little crush she’d been nursing, but the other part won out, and instead she looked away, stared at the ground, and toed a loose pebble. “We can’t be the only people in town. There must be others. Have you checked? Knocked on doors?” Ellery watched Loveday lean down and scratch Rocky behind the ears.
“I tried to. Just before you got here.” Loveday’s voice went watery. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay, Miss Taylor. Go on. This morning…what?”
“Please, call me Loveday. After I couldn’t find anyone here, I went back home to see if my neighbour was in. Her door was unlocked so I went inside.”
“Which neighbour?”
“Libby Lee. Do you know her?” Loveday asked.
“She owns the florist’s?”
“Yes, that’s her. Well, when I went inside, I thought the place was empty, like here. I started to go upstairs—you’re going to think I’m crazier than you do already—but there was something up there.”
“An intruder?” Ellery was confused.
“No, more like a…I don’t know what it was.” She threw up her hands. “I can’t explain it very well. It was bad, though.”
“It might have been Libby Lee. She might be hurt.” Ellery stood, alarmed. “Where does she live?”
Loveday clutched Ellery’s arm. “Please, trust me. You don’t want to go in that house.”
Ellery shook off Loveday’s hand. “If she’s hurt, I need to help her.”
“It’s not her.”
“How do you know if you just left without checking?” Ellery didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but Loveday must have spooked herself over nothing when there could be an injured person upstairs. Except, was it over nothing? Hadn’t Ellery spent the night in almost superstitious dread of a storm that wasn’t quite a storm?
Perhaps she was too harsh with Loveday. Something strange was going on in town. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. I still need to check Libby Lee’s house, though. You don’t have to come with me. Just give me the address.”
Loveday sighed. “I’ll come with you. But I’ll wait outside.”
Chapter Eight
Loveday stood outside Libby Lee’s cottage. Rocky snuffled the grass next to her and occasionally peed against the fences. She looked up a
t Libby’s windows where the curtains were still drawn. Ellery agreed to open them once she was upstairs so Loveday could see she was okay.
She didn’t want to be here, would not have come back if Ellery hadn’t shamed her into it. But Ellery hadn’t felt what she had inside that house. Some kind of dark intelligence. Its awareness of her felt cold and calculating, the way the lion was aware of the gazelle. It was waiting for her to go upstairs and…and what? Maybe you’re still just a coward, Loveday. Making up ghouls to excuse your selfish, childish behaviour. No, not this time, she wasn’t. This time wasn’t like London. There really had been something upstairs. She sighed and worried her bottom lip with her teeth, praying Libby wasn’t lying upstairs, hurt. Praying Ellery would open the bloody curtains soon so they could get out of here.
Loveday had met Ellery Jackson a few times at the vet’s, and she always took good care of Claude. Loveday briefly wondered if Ellery was into other women—something about her told Loveday she might be. Ellery wore her thick dark hair short and had the most incredible grey eyes, like slate with green flecks around the irises. Loveday thought they were kind eyes, if a little guarded.
They were roughly the same age, and in another life, Loveday might have pursued the good-looking vet, but those days were behind her. New town, new start, new habits. Plus, Ellery was stand-offish. Always polite and professional, her face gave nothing away. Loveday watched her economical movements, precise and confident. She obviously kept herself under tight control. The old Loveday would have been drawn to the idea of making the uptight vet snap.
She sighed and looked up at the window again. Still no sign of Ellery. The last thing Loveday wanted to do was go back in that house, but could she just leave Ellery if the thing was still in there? Why not? You did before. Loveday shook off the voice that wouldn’t let her forget about her ultimate cowardice. Knowing it was her conscience didn’t give her any more control over it.
She almost cried out in relief when the curtains were drawn back and Ellery looked down and waved at her.
* * *
Ellery almost smiled at the look of relief on Loveday’s face and the way she returned Ellery’s wave so enthusiastically. She still felt bad for snapping at her earlier and had an idea Loveday had only come back here because Ellery had pretty much called her a coward. She put it down to the stress of the situation. Usually even-tempered, she wasn’t one for snapping at people.
She always approached everything in a logical and practical way. She reserved judgement until she had all the facts and waited until she had the facts before she made a decision—another reason she’d felt so uncomfortable last night during the storm. She wasn’t ordinarily susceptible to flights of fancy or premonitions of impending doom.
Her last girlfriend told her she was eye-wateringly dull—well, shouted it—as she was walking out the door, walking out on Ellery. She’d told her she was like a tortoise, methodically plodding through life and boring everyone she came into contact with. Ellery knew most of those words were said to hurt her, but she recognized truth in them. She took her time and wouldn’t allow anything to influence her decision-making process. Her dislike of the dark was the only irrational fear she allowed.
She stood in Libby Lee’s bedroom, staring at the neatly made bed, pillows plumped and covers tucked. It was pleasant, homely, with refurbished pieces of old pine furniture. Ellery vaguely remembered Libby telling her about the furniture she’d bought from junk shops and did up. It was a nice room.
But there was no one here, other than Ellery. Not Libby Lee and not the malevolent intruder Loveday told her about. All the same…all the same, Ellery felt her heart beat faster than usual. Her normally dry palms had begun to sweat and her skin prickled. She felt like she was being watched. She opened the wardrobe, feeling foolish—no one lurked in there. She crouched and peered under the bed. Empty except for a couple of dust bunnies.
Ellery wanted to get out of there. She rubbed the back of her neck compulsively—a nervous habit she’d gotten rid of at eighteen—and forced herself to check the other bedroom across the landing. It was empty too. Ellery was satisfied Libby Lee wasn’t here and relieved she could finally get out of the house. She resisted the urge to bolt down the stairs and made herself take measured steps instead, one ear cocked for the sound of someone behind her.
Outside again, Ellery took a deep breath and instantly felt better for being out of the house. She approached Loveday who narrowed her eyes and studied her.
“Are you okay?” Loveday asked.
“Yes, fine. Libby Lee isn’t in there.”
“I told you.” Her eyes, though, betrayed her relief. “What about…the other?”
“I was alone.” Ellery glanced away, unable to lie to Loveday’s face.
“Right. Maybe I was just freaked out before. I don’t know, this is all so strange.” Loveday sounded frustrated.
Ellery thought about patting Loveday’s shoulder but changed her mind. “I know how you feel. I think you’re right about everyone disappearing.”
“You believe me now?” Loveday looked surprised.
“We should try more houses, but yes, it feels empty. People should be up and about by now, and there’s no one.”
“What do you think happened to them?”
“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? Where are they, and why are we still here?” Ellery looked around the silent street. Nothing moved. Curtains stayed closed.
“It feels like we’re in a mausoleum,” Loveday said quietly.
Ellery nodded in agreement. “Come on, let’s check a few more houses.”
They each took one side of the street, knocking on doors and getting no answer. Ellery pushed open a couple that were unlocked and the houses were just as empty as Libby Lee’s had been. It was clear the whole town experienced the power cut. There were melted candles and discarded torches in most places—Ellery was surprised there hadn’t been any fires.
She glanced over her shoulder at Loveday who was reaching the end of her side of the road, Rocky limping along beside her. Ellery knocked and pushed the door. It swung open, offering a view of the hallway. She hesitated, then stepped inside. Like in all the others, Ellery called out and got no reply. By now, she didn’t expect one.
In the kitchen, a saucepan sat on a small camping stove, baked beans congealed inside. Two slices of bread gone hard and lifting at the edges were on a plate beside it. Whoever had started to prepare this dinner was long gone.
Ellery checked the house phone, the computer in the study upstairs, and a laptop lying open on a bed. All dead. Not even a flicker of life. Where is everyone? It was becoming a mantra in her head. How was it possible all these people had just vanished? They hadn’t searched the town proper, it was true, and there was the possibility people were still here, other than her and Loveday. If that was so, why hadn’t they come out? Surely it was the first thing you’d do? The most logical. Ellery was becoming more and more certain Loveday was right. Everyone was gone.
Ellery started back down the stairs, but then she heard the scrape of a chair across the wood floor. It came from downstairs. Her skin prickled and panic rose. She was about to call out, when something stopped her. You don’t want it to answer you. It didn’t make sense, this irrational fear. Ellery was terrified and she had no idea why. Don’t you? Don’t you know what’s down there, Ellery? I think you might. I think you just might know. Maybe better than Loveday. It’s the reason you’re scared of the dark. It’s the reason you keep the night lights burning. And it’s waiting for you down there.
Ellery bolted back upstairs. She ran into the front bedroom and thumbed the latch on the window. Her hands shook and her fingers slipped on the frame as she dragged the window up. She climbed out, her feet touched the porch roof below. Behind her, something came up the stairs.
All the way out the window now, she got on her knees, gripped the roof tiles, slid down, and hung off the edge, her legs dangling while she worked up the courage to
let go. Her left hand caught on a nail, and it tore into her palm. The right didn’t fare much better with the edge of a broken tile biting into it. Fortunately, Ellery was up to date with her tetanus shots.
She looked up and saw a shadowy face at the window. It was grinning at her.
How do I know it’s grinning?
She let go.
Chapter Nine
When Terry woke up, the blessed headache was gone. The house was bloody freezing, though. He didn’t have to call out to know Shirl wouldn’t answer him. Briefly, he wondered if she’d left him. She’d done it once, near the beginning of their marriage. He probably would have let the soppy cow go, plenty more fish in the sea. But she’d taken Little Terry, his boy, with her.
He’d gone to her mum’s house because where else would she go? Her brother Joe was a heartless bastard and wouldn’t take her in. Terry had been all sweetness and light, told her he was sorry, it wouldn’t happen again. He’d begged and promised and wheedled until she’d agreed to come home. Once they got back to the house, he’d taken Little Terry upstairs and put him in his crib. He stroked his hair, still amazed at how soft and silky it felt beneath his hard, rough hand. He watched Little Terry’s eyes get heavy, and when the baby put his little thumb in his mouth, he thought absently that this thumb-sucking business was going to stop pronto as well. When the baby was asleep, he went back downstairs and laid out to Shirl what would happen if she ever tried to take his son away again. He spelled it out to her nice and clear.
So if she hadn’t left him, where was she? It was only then he noticed the street outside was silent. He pushed aside the curtains. No signs of life. Their car was still in the drive as well, so she definitely hadn’t gone far. Something didn’t feel right. Everything felt somehow off. Terry picked up the house phone. There was no dial tone.
