by Darcy Coates
Three sets of lamp-like eyes glowed in the flames as monsters spilt through the open window—jaws widened, grinning through the haze of smoke.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“No!” Clare darted forward, arm outstretched, desperate to shut and lock the window before any more monsters came through. The nearest hollow lunged at her, teeth snapping for her hand, only to be knocked aside by Dorran’s fire poker.
Clare took the second of reprieve to grab the shovel. It was small and light, designed for removing soot from the fire, but it would work in a pinch. She pushed forward again, ducking around Dorran’s arm, and knocked a hollow back as she tried to reach the window.
The scrabbling coming from the chimney had been a perfect disguise for the noises outside their window. Dozens of the creatures jostled to get in, their distended limbs slapping on the windowsill as they crawled through the narrow opening in ones and twos.
“Clare!” Dorran barked. “Get back!”
“The window,” she insisted, using the shovel’s edge to stab through a creature’s throat.
“There are too many!”
Clare wanted to scream. Dorran was right. Already, her path was blocked by eleven of the twisted bodies, barely held at bay by her shovel, filling up that half of the room, creeping onto the bed, beginning to climb onto the wardrobe and up the wallpaper. Every second, another joined the throng. They poured through the window like water. As their numbers swelled, their eagerness grew, the snapping teeth and grasping hands slinking ever closer.
We’re out of options. Surrounded in here, surrounded outside.
Dorran pushed Clare back, putting himself between her and the hollows. Her mind spun, searching for an escape, and her eyes lit on the door near the fireplace. “The bathroom,” she hissed. “We can lock ourselves inside.”
“Yes. Go.”
Clare turned for the door. The tiled bathroom had no windows. It would be cold and void of supplies except for water, but it would be secure. She wrenched the door open and was confronted by a blast of chilled air.
Something moved in the fireplace. Clare swivelled just in time to see one of the monsters creeping over the coals. The flames had subsided as the fuel burnt off, but even so, the monster’s limbs were bubbling from the heat. The outer layer of skin dripped off its arm as it reached towards Clare. She took a shaky breath and side-stepped through the bathroom doorway. “Dorran!”
He was still facing the hollows, trying to keep the mass at bay. One of the approaching creatures snagged his sleeve.
Clare moved forward, shovel raised to stab through the grey arm, but her path was blocked. The burning, smoking hollow from the chimney staggered between her and Dorran. Its neck was too long, its eyes sunken deep into its skull, its mouth incapable of closing. Clare swung at the head, and the shovel made an unnervingly wet noise. It stuck to the bubbling skin, and when she tried to pull it away, strips of flesh and hair came with it.
Clare’s stomach felt cold, like it did when she needed to be sick. Her ears rang. She took a step back, and that was all the opening the hollows needed. They swarmed towards her, some coming from the fireplace, their skin smoking. Others spilled in around Dorran. They pressed towards Clare, a mass so thick and hungry, she knew her shovel would not survive the fight. She thrust it out ahead of herself like a shield, and a set of crooked teeth fastened around the metal.
She could barely see Dorran. He had his back pressed to the wall near the window, teeth set in a grimace as he struggled to keep the bodies off himself. The gap between them was widening as Clare was forced back an inch at a time. It was deliberate, she thought; Madeline had wanted them separated in their last moments.
Clare tried to wrench the shovel free. A gnashing mouth forced her to stumble backwards, through the bathroom door, isolating her further. The bathroom offered nothing but soaps, immovable fixtures… and the second door.
The connected bedroom. Get out through it, then circle around through the hallway to get back to Dorran.
She still had the keyring in her jacket pocket. She hated letting Dorran out of her sight for even a second, but she was already divided from him by a small sea of the creatures. Going through the hallway would at least give her a better chance of reaching him.
The nearest hollow still had its teeth clamped around the shovel. Clare released it and leapt back. She wrenched the chair out from under the door and threw it at the creatures chasing her. Its leg became jammed between the sink and bathtub, sticking it in place, and forcing the hollows to struggle over and around it.
She didn’t stop to watch. She turned the lock and the handle and barrelled into the second bedroom. Clare didn’t try to shut the bathroom door behind herself. She wanted to lure as many of the creatures into the second bedroom as possible—and get them away from Dorran. She put her head down and ran for the door that let back into the hallway.
The door opened with a bang, and Clare slammed it closed behind her. Bodies hit the other side, guttural chattering fuelled by growing frustration. The door to the main bedroom was no more than fifteen paces away. Clare ran for it, her breathing strained. A shape loomed out of the gloom, its narrow shoulders hunched, its head scraping the ceiling. Gangly arms reached almost to the floor as it staggered, bow-legged, towards Clare.
Of course they’re guarding the hallway. She wouldn’t want us escaping.
Clare pulled the keyring out of her pocket as she raced the monster to the door. She was going to make it. The shambling behemoth was too slow and unsteady. She could get through the door in time, grab one of the weapons, and reach Dorran—
A horrific sense of dread washed through her, sending prickles sizzling across her skin. The gangly hollow wasn’t the only sentry in the hallway. The ceiling was moving. Hollows writhed across it, so thick that she could barely see the plaster. Their lidless eyes followed her every movement. One by one, they began letting go, dropping to the hallway, plunging towards Clare.
There was no chance to reach the door any longer, no time to fight with the lock. She put her head down, no longer breathing, simply focussed on moving.
The behemoth’s long arms swiped at her. Clare aimed for the gap between its knees and passed through, her shoulders grazing its clammy flesh. Something snagged at her foot, making her stumble, but she regained her balance and kept moving.
Clare was barely thinking. She had to find a new weapon and fight her way back to Dorran, but she had no concept of how she might achieve that. Each step carried her farther from the door. Eyes appeared near the railing to the stairs, catching the muted light. Clare tried to calculate her odds of getting past them. Too many, and not good.
Hollows were coming up behind her. The passageway ahead bulged with bodies. Clare stumbled to a halt, surrounded on all sides, her ears filled with their ravenous howls.
Suddenly, a new noise boomed around Clare. Unathi’s voice chanted over the radio, “Ten minutes. Find a safe location. Ten minutes.”
Dorran must have reached it. He’d turned up the volume. The shock of the noise might buy him a few seconds. Maybe he could do what Clare hadn’t and would be safe inside the bathroom. She prayed he wouldn’t come looking for her. He wouldn’t get through the wall of creatures.
Ten minutes. I just need ten minutes. Got to find a room, take shelter—
Something hit her from behind, toppling her, and she grabbed at the nearest object: the hollow, a large one, pockets of fat billowing its body like countless tumours. It pressed forward, and Clare had no time to even gasp as her feet left the floor. She was tumbling. Tangled together, she and the hollow dropped towards the ground two floors below.
The hollow hit the tiles first. Clare landed on top of it, and her world exploded into pain. She groaned and drew a strained breath as feeling came back into her limbs. The monster’s jelly-like body had cushioned her, no doubt saving her, but it hadn’t been a perfect protection. Her neck ached from the way it had been twisted. Her throat stung from where the monster
’s teeth had cut her—not from a bite, but simply from the impact forcing them into her. Her whole right side smarted like it had been slapped, and her leg flared with pain every time she tried to move it. But she was alive. And, considering how high Winterbourne’s ceilings were, that was a small miracle.
The back of the hollow’s head had broken open like an egg, spilling fluids and blood across the tiles, but the eyes rolled and the teeth opened and closed in a spasmodic loop. Clare shifted to the side, falling off the body, cringing as every small movement jarred her. The hollow twitched two more times, final firings of a brain that was more outside the head than in, then it fell back, limp.
Dorran… where is Dorran…?
She tilted her head to look up at the stairs. Just that small motion sent waves of dizziness through her and caused rivers of black to bleed in from the edges of her vision. She clamped her mouth shut to silence a moan. The creatures on the stairs were looking down at her, flashes of light sparking across their countless eyes.
Get up. You have to fight.
She tried to pull her feet underneath herself. She felt boneless, uncoordinated. A hollow stood on the lowest step of the stairs, its head tipping to the side as it watched her with curious eyes. It took a cautious step forward. One of its companions lay dead on the tiles, and to their primitive minds, that was enough of a threat to make them wary. But that wouldn’t last long. Nothing ever did in the face of their hunger.
Get up!
She tried again. Pain rushed along her left side, severe enough to make her think she’d fractured bones. Her feet slipped out at an angle. The hollow took another step forward. Bony nubs protruded from its skull, the skin stretched taunt over them like canvas pulled too tight. It crept on all fours, using its hands as extra feet, and as its jaw widened, a string of saliva glistened towards the tiles.
Fight! You have to fight!
She couldn’t hear anything from the floors above except for the low, quiet chatters. No sounds from Dorran. That frightened her even more than the body creeping towards her. Unable to stand, she crawled backwards.
A heavy hand, its cracked nails grown too long, landed on her shoulder.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The hand pushed her down, and Clare gasped as her back hit the floor. She had no strength left to resist. A hollow loomed over her. It had lost part of its throat and nose. The open flesh was rotting, spreading black veins across its features and clouding its bloodshot eyes. The jaw bones clicked as they opened.
No. Please. Not like this. We were so close.
The creature’s head moved down, angled towards her throat. Clare thrust her hands up, pressing into the cold flesh, jabbing her thumbs into its eyes and nose, trying to hold it off, but it didn’t even seem to notice. The teeth fastened over her throat and squeezed.
Clare convulsed. The teeth pulled off her throat, grazing hot lines across the skin. She clamped her hand over the site and felt liquid. Hollow saliva mingling with her own blood. Not enough blood to kill her, though. It had only grazed the skin; her throat was still intact.
The hollow’s head hovered above hers, its bloodshot eyes staring down at her. The teeth flexed, tongue running over them to lap up any traces of blood. But it had stopped.
Why? How am I not dead yet?
It was holding its own head, Clare saw, one hand on either side of its skull. She blinked. No, its hands were on her shoulders. The cracked nails dug into her, trying to drag her up to its maw.
Something else was pulling on its head, dragging it away from her, holding the gnawing teeth at bay. Those hands came from behind it. The fingers tightened on the skull, and grey flesh bulged around them. One eye turned out sideways from the pressure. Clare guessed what was about to happen a second before it did, but wasn’t fast enough to turn away.
The head was yanked back. The force was immense, greater than a human’s muscles could handle. Horrible cracking noises preceded a glut of blood and spinal fluid as the head tore free from the body.
Clare had enough presence to close her eyes and mouth as the gore sprayed across her. She felt the body slump next to hers, the stump between its shoulders leaking over the tiles.
She crawled back, limbs shaking, dizziness rocking her. She swiped a hand across her eyes to clear away the blood.
A figure stood where the hollow had been a moment before, holding the decapitated head in one fist. At first glance Clare thought it was wearing red gloves up to its shoulders, then realised she was looking at blood painted across the limbs. Eight-inch spines protruded from its back. A halo of thinning gold hair surrounded its face.
Clare’s throat burnt. Her mouth opened, and a name left her before she was even conscious of it. “Beth.”
As soon as she said it, she knew it was true. Her sister’s back was straight and her neck long, although there was more monster than human about her. Her cheekbones, always pronounced, were growing sharper. Patches of her scalp were visible through the vanishing golden hair. She’d lost weight since she and Clare had parted, and her greying skin lay thin over bones. She stood naked except for the blood sprayed across her body.
Beth moved suddenly, her expression growing harsh as she raised the decapitated head. She hurled it towards Clare with supernatural force. Clare ducked to avoid the projectile. She hadn’t needed to—it wasn’t aimed at her. The head made a heavy smacking noise as it hit the monster creeping up behind her.
Beth loped forward. She was graceful. Animalistic. Her whole body worked in perfect synchrony as she passed Clare, stabbing one hand towards the hollow. The blow was harsh enough to puncture through the creature’s ribs. It began to scream, blood and froth mixing with rage and spilling out of its mouth. Beth shook the hollow and, in one sharp movement, broke its spine and dropped it to the floor.
It was her. The thing attacking hollows. She’s been killing any of the creatures that got in our way. Because they don’t recognise her as human, they don’t try to fight her.
And even before that… Clare blinked, remembering the fuel container she’d thought should still be in their room. The flare that had appeared right when they needed it. The chains that had been binding Dorran breaking, something that called for unnatural strength. It was her all along.
Beth straightened again, standing over her latest kill, and stared down at Clare. There was no familiarity in her eyes. No love.
How long has she been here? We told her where to find Winterbourne before we split from her. She could have been here for weeks, waiting for us. Slowly losing her mind. Slowly forgetting why she even came.
Tears dropped over Clare’s lower lids. She reached a hand out towards her sister. Beth quirked her head to one side. She hesitated then extended her own hand. Her fingertips grazed over Clare’s, smearing traces of red onto her. The touch was small and brief. But, for that second, Clare thought she saw the remnants of her sister in the sunken eyes.
“Be… safe,” Beth’s voice rasped. She withdrew her hand, stepping back from Clare. In one fluid motion, she turned towards the hollows that had been creeping closer.
They were surrounded. From every direction, eyes fixed on Clare, oblivious to the woman who stood between them. Beth dropped into a crouch and sprang. A body smashed into the floor, a shocked scream rising before Beth’s heel stomped on the back of its skull, crushing and silencing it.
The voice floated from the radio, loud enough to crackle through all of the rooms. Even distorted by the static, even muffled by layers of stone walls, Clare could hear the fear wavering in Unathi’s careful pronunciation. “Two minutes. Take shelter. Two minutes.”
The hollows were coming for her. Clare crawled back, trying to avoid the bodies that littered the floor. The creatures slipped over the blood, ungainly arms and legs scrambling for purchase. Beth moved with furious precision, striking them back, knocking them down. Her fists broke through bones, and her teeth tore flesh. A wildness filled her face, and Clare could no longer recognise her sister.
&
nbsp; Clare’s back hit the staircase’s panelled wall. A small side table was near her. Clare’s legs ached, not wanting to lift her, but she hauled herself onto her knees. The side table held few objects, but her eyes landed on a wooden clock the size of her head.
Beth’s attention was broken. She seemed to have forgotten Clare’s presence and instead lashed out at anything that moved, tackling indiscriminately.
A bony hand fastened around Clare’s ankle and tugged. She swung the clock, feeling it fracture as it impacted the creature’s head. The hand refused to release her. Clare scrambled, fingers clutching at the broken wood and gears. Teeth fixed around her injured leg, squeezing, cutting through her pants as it sought out the blood-soaked bandages. Beth was at the other side of the room, writhing in a delighted frenzy as she tore into her peers.
The tinny voice from the radio came again, aiming for authority, but quivering, breathless. “One minute. May God have mercy on us all.”
Clare tightened her hand around one of the wood fragments. It came to a sharpened point, a makeshift stake. She drove it into the hollow’s face, aiming for the eyes but missing. She pierced near its ear instead. It was close enough; the hollow’s jaws released her as it bucked. Another was already at her shoulder, and Clare didn’t even have time to breathe as she brought the fractured wood around and gouged it into the monster’s neck.
The radio clicked off abruptly. Its static was replaced by a new noise. Bellows. Screams. They rose from the horizon, exploding out of the forest like birds taking flight and swelling closer. Clare shrank away from it, her instincts reacting even when her mind had gone blank. It was coming, unstoppable, like a tsunami. The end.
It passed from the forest into Winterbourne. A chain reaction rippled through the hollows as the thanites passed on their message of destruction. It started with the creatures closest to the door and moved inwards. The hollows stiffened, backs arching and bulging eyes turned towards the ceiling. Their jaws opened as involuntary screams exploded out of them.