“This ain’t gonna hold ‘em,” he roared.
The dog started barking, tail between its legs.
Panic seemed to flow around the room. Sara sobbed.
Jim stood up and shook his head. “You’re throwing away good meat,” he said. “Let them in, I’ll show you how it’s done.” He brandished the knife in his hand.
Brad shook his head. This was no time for Jim to lose it.
Jim grinned. “Come on, let the fuckers in. It’s gutting time.”
Zander grabbed Jim by the shoulder and spun him around. “Be serious, man. Those things, they’ll kill ya.”
Jim shook Zander off and rolled his sleeve up to reveal a six-inch scar. “If that shark we had tangled in the net couldn’t do it, then no fucking bottom feeding piece of mutated scum sucking fish bladder is going to either.”
Brad braced his legs against the counter, and ground his teeth together. How many of the bastards were there on the other side of that blasted door?
“I won’t be able to hold them for long,” he wheezed.
“Then let the bastards in,” Jim said.
Brad didn’t like the maniacal glint in Jim’s eyes. Didn’t like the way he held the knife with a caressing touch. He knew some men formed a sort of bond with their knives on board a trawler, and woe betide the man that touched another man’s knife.
“Don’t talk daft, man,” Zander said.
Jim waved his knife around. “Me and this ’ere knife, we’ll slice and dice the fuckers, mark my words.”
The creatures scratched at the door at Brad’s back. He could literally feel each claw scraping across the wood; half expected one of the brutes to break through at any minute.
Bruce ran around the bar, placed his hands on the door, and pushed to help keep it shut. Splinters of wood skittered through the gap at the bottom.
“We won’t be able to hold them much longer,” Brad said. “The door’s not strong enough.”
“Here, wedge this between it and the bar,” Zander said as he passed over a chair. “It’ll give us long enough to get upstairs.”
“Then what?” Erin asked. “Upstairs or down, they’re going to come for us. We can’t hole up there forever.”
“So what do you suggest?” Zander asked.
“We need to get away. Out of the village.”
“How? Those creatures are out there.”
“Fire keeps them at bay. We can use it to help make an escape.”
“And where are we going to get something to burn?” Zander asked.
“Will these do?” Jack held a chair leg aloft.
“Perfect,” Erin said. “Now we need to wrap them in something that will keep burning.”
“Graham won’t need them anymore, look for some clothes upstairs,” Brad said.
Jack started towards the door leading through to the stairs. “I’ll go.”
“Me too,” Jen said as she hurried after him.
The bottom of the cellar door clattered and banged. “And be quick,” Brad shouted.
The bare bulb at the top of the stairs illuminated the stairway. Jack felt nervous as he climbed; couldn’t help wondering what had happened to Graham, and although he had reservations, he was glad that Jen had accompanied him.
“This is turning into one crazy night,” Jen said.
“Yeah, I’ve had better,” Jack replied.
“I’m trying not to think about it. I still can’t believe what my grandmother’s done though. I keep thinking this is just a nightmare; that I’ll wake up soon.”
“You and me both.”
“Do you think the police are going to come?”
“I think we’ll need more than the police to put a stop to this.” Jack turned and hurried up the stairs to a short corridor. At the top, four doors led off, two of which he would have to double back to check. The first door opened onto a sparsely furnished sitting room. Light from the landing illuminated a settee, a small bookcase, a coffee table on which lay a men’s magazine opened at the centre spread and a footstool. The next door led to a small kitchen, where he found the cat drinking milk from its bowl. It looked up and regarded Jack, then resumed lapping its milk as though he wasn’t worth bothering about. Dirty bowls, plates and cutlery were stacked up in the sink and over the draining board. The tap dripped. Jack wondered who would come and clean up when this was all over. Wondered who would look after the cat.
Exiting the room, he walked back along the corridor to investigate the other two doors, both of which were shut. He pushed open the first one he came to, but couldn’t see anything inside as the curtains were drawn and the light on the landing didn’t reach this far. He swept his hand across the wall until he found the light switch and flicked it on.
The first thing he saw was a face staring at him, and his heart did a somersault. He opened his mouth and let out a gasp, only to realise he was looking at his own reflection in a mirror on the wall.
“You okay?” Jen asked.
Jack nodded. “I may not be the best looking lad in the world, but it comes to something when my own reflection makes me jump.”
“You look pretty good to me.”
Jack entered the room to hide his embarrassment. A single bed occupied one wall, across from which a wardrobe held the promise of clothes. Jack strode across and opened it. He thought it felt macabre rifling through the jackets and shirts of someone probably now food for the monsters but he put his feelings aside as he selected things which would burn well, and which would continue to burn, such as a stack of polyester shirts.
“Here, take these,” he said, passing an armful to Jen.
He grabbed a couple of pairs of polyester pants. “That should be enough. Come on, they’re waiting for us.”
Jack ran down the stairs and back into the bar. Brad and his dad were holding the door shut.
“Hurry up, kid,” Brad said.
Rocky, Sara and Erin were stamping on chairs to snap the legs off. Jack and Jen dropped the pile of clothes next to them, then helped wrap each item tightly around the jagged end of each leg.
“We’ll need some alcohol from behind the bar to soak them in,” Erin said. “Rocky, help Jack pick bottles with the most alcohol as that will burn better. Look for liqueurs and rum with high alcohol content.”
Jack looked at Rocky, wondering whether there was still going to be any animosity between them. Rocky stared back, nodded, then proceeded to the bar where he started removing bottles of alcohol from the racks on the wall.
Jack joined him, and said, “I know you don’t like me, but thanks. You know, for helping us when we were stuck on the rocks.”
Rocky looked at him. “Least I could do in the circumstances.”
“Me and Jen, we’re… well…”
“I know.” He leaned closer. “Tell you the truth, I never liked her that much. Don’t tell her, though. Don’t want her to get all upset and the like. Now you see Sara though, she’s a fox.”
Jack looked at Sara and smiled.
When they had enough bottles, Jack and Rocky carried them back to Erin and she started dousing the makeshift torches in alcohol. The pungent aroma of the spirits soon filled the air, and Jack wondered if you could get drunk from the fumes.
“Okay, we’re all set,” Erin said. She passed the torches around. “I don’t know how long they’ll last, so use one at a time. Now who’s got a light?”
“I’ve got one,” Jack said.
Zander nodded. “And me.”
“Those who haven’t got one, grab some of the boxes of matches from behind the bar,” she said.
She placed Brad’s and Bruce’s torches on the bar. Bruce turned to Brad. “You ready?”
The engineer nodded. “As I ever will be.”