Still reeling from losing Rachel, and barely making it home, she tried to make herself safe. She’d fortified her house and boxed up all her provisions. She and Jack had prepared bug-out bags months ago. As she waited, Dee busied herself checking and rechecking the bags. It was two days since she had spoken to Jack, and with each passing hour the fear that she might have lost him gnawed at her more and more. She’d been out in that bedlam twice now, taking the risk to bike back to Rachel’s to retrieve her car. Having it home settled her, like she needed it. Knowing that she had an out mattered, a means of escape in case Jack didn’t come home.
Dee checked the driveway and gate once again, glanced at the pile of supplies. She had noted the growing number of creatures. At first it had been just the odd one, still human-looking with tattered clothes hanging off them. As the hours passed and day turned to night, they had come out in ever-increasing numbers. Solitary creatures had begun to gather in packs, prowling down the street and sniffing the air. When they smelt something, they would emit a high-pitched shriek and bound across the property and into the house.
Dee cringed every time she heard glass breaking and the screams that followed. Once, in the early morning, she had heard the boom of shotguns. Even that hadn’t lasted long. With nothing to do but wait, her mind wandered and she found herself imagining what had become of Jack. Two nights had passed since they’d last spoken, but still she found it difficult to accept that he wasn’t coming back.
Dee sighed and checked her phone for the hundredth time. She had very little battery power remaining and only kept it on out of habit. She switched it off and slid it into her jeans pocket.
She decided to move down to the basement. It was more secure there, and easier to defend with only two entries: one leading from the kitchen and the other from the back yard. Dee strapped the katana over her back and lifted the first box. Better to do something than sit around waiting.
It took Dee half a dozen trips to move everything she needed down to the basement. Next, she emptied out the pantry of all the canned goods, the fruit she had preserved over the summer and all the dried foodstuffs. Once she had everything she thought she’d need, she decided to secure the access door from the kitchen. She found some of Jack’s tools and put a dozen 80 mm screws through the door into the thick timber jambs. Thankfully the door was solid with no window.
She had just finished screwing the door shut when she heard the shriek. It was so loud it wailed around in her brain. Frantic, she scanned the kitchen, looking for somewhere to hide. She glanced at the back door, which was ajar. Could she make it to the basement?
There was another shriek. This time it was close, perhaps even down the side of the house. Gritting her teeth, she ducked into the only hiding spot available: the pantry. The handle of her katana knocked the spice rack over, spilling the contents all over the floor. She swore quietly and pulled the door closed behind her. The pungent aromas from the spices hung in the air around her, so Dee covered her mouth with her T-shirt and held her breath.
The clicking of a creature’s claws across the kitchen tiles and the popping of its joints made her skin crawl. She gagged when the rotting fruit smell that seemed to hang around them reached her nostrils through the mix of spices. She squeezed her eyes shut and held the door closed with one hand. Sweat began to pool in the small of her back and behind her ears, saliva in her mouth.
All it would take for the creature to discover her was one peek in at where she was hiding, one whiff of her scent.
Crouched in the pantry, she listened to the beast. It scrambled around, knocking God-knew-what to the floor. It would stop in its destruction every few seconds to sniff at the air. Dee could hear each sniff, because it made the creature sound like an obese asthmatic trying to breathe. She gulped in her own breath, as quietly as she could, when the creature scratched at the door. She heard it sniff again, and it sneezed. Powerful sneezes, one after the other. It seemed to scramble away from the door, its clawed feet scraping on the smooth tiles. There was a shriek, and the creature crashed out of the kitchen.
Dee waited until she couldn’t hear it anymore. She counted to ten, slowly. She peeked out of the pantry. Pots, pans, cups and plates lay smashed all over the floor. The spices she’d spilled had claw marks in them.
Something clicked. The creatures hunted mainly by scent. Twice now she had escaped their detection because of overpowering smells, once in the compost and now again with these spices. To have any chance of surviving in the basement, she would need to disguise her presence.
Dee dashed for the basement and bolted the door shut. Smiling, she took the seaweed plant-food off the shelf and poured its contents over the door and threshold.
That would have to do for now.
Hurry, Jack! Come home.
— 14 —
The liquidambar was one of the first deciduous trees to begin changing colour in autumn, and one of Jack’s favourite trees. Its leaves would first turn a deep purple before turning red and falling to the ground. Jack jogged ahead through the leaf litter that covered the grass, releasing a peaty scent into the air. He held the gun in front of him, ready. He remembered reading about where to keep your finger so as not to accidentally fire the gun; on the trigger guard, not the trigger itself. He was tempted to flick the safety on, but with Duke and his goons in the vicinity and the fact that mid-afternoon was fast approaching, he was on edge.
“Where are we going, Jack?” Emma gasped beside him.
“We need a vehicle. Best place is a dealership,” Jack said. He glanced behind to check on Sarah. She was lagging behind, carrying George. Emma followed his gaze and dropped back.
“Here, let me take him for a bit,” Emma said, handing Sarah the bachi hoe and lifting the red-haired boy into her arms. She spent a few seconds adjusting his weight.
“Thanks,” Sarah panted.
It was a long run back into the centre of Cambridge. Jack was aiming for a Toyota dealership he knew of next to a strip mall of fast food outlets. As they ran, Jack caught his reflection in the shop windows, hardly recognising himself, he was so dishevelled. He must’ve smelt just as bad. It was days since he’d showered, and the swims in the river wouldn’t have helped matters. Jack blinked as he caught a movement in the glass. It flicked through his vision so fast he wasn’t sure what he had seen.
Only instinct saved him. He was close enough to Emma and Sarah to pull them down behind a vehicle just as the creature bounded out of the house. It howled and pivoted, searching for the prey it had seen. Jack caressed the rifle and crawled in front of the two women and George. He could just see the top of its deformed head. The flesh on the skull had blackened and there was no hair at all. It leapt onto a brick fence and sniffed at the air. Its yellow eyes swivelled around and locked onto Jack. For a moment Jack thought the beast was going to bound off. Moving slowly, he brought the rifle up and squinted through the scope.
There was a blur of motion and the creature was sailing through the air. Jack sucked in a breath and pulled on the trigger. The rifle bucked into his shoulder as three shots ripped out, going wide. Jack pulled the trigger again as the creature landed on the concrete and swiped a claw at him, knocking the rifle from his grasp.
George cried out and Emma, gripping the bachi hoe in both hands, stepped in front of Sarah and George. The creature bowled into Jack, its mouth curled back to reveal rows of razor sharp teeth. Jack fell back with a thump and grabbed the creature’s arms, desperate to keep it from tearing into his flesh. He kicked out at the beast but his efforts had no effect. He spotted the rifle only a couple of metres away.