“They can’t come with us!” His face was red with aggression and small darts of spit flew from his mouth. “That man with the airgun had the right idea. They’ll turn into those things . . . the widows. They can’t fucking come with us!”
There was a quiver of fear in Katie’s strong face at the mention of the widows, and I realised in that moment that I didn’t like Nigel Phelps too much and I doubted I was ever going to. My disgust must’ve showed on my face, because he hesitated for a second and stared at me before his eyes sought reassurance from the others. He didn’t find it.
“I admit I don’t know much about women and children, but even I can see you’re scaring the child.” Dave’s voice was quiet and controlled. “And they both look pretty healthy to me.”
“Those things could be growing in them. Don’t you get it? You didn’t see them.” Sweat dripped from the damp curls at the nape of his neck.
George smiled gently. “In those waists? I doubt it.”
“They’re staying with us, Nigel. It seems the majority are in agreement.”
“I’ll go along with that.” John’s words escaped with a mouthful of smoke from somewhere just over my shoulder.
“So that’s everyone but you. Of course, if you’re not happy with that, then you can go off on your own. You’re not obliged to stay with us.”
His gaze darted hesitantly around the group, and for a moment the awkward silence hung so heavily in the air that I thought only a rumble of thunder from above could break it. As it turned out, it was Jane. She had crept out from the cover of Katie and climbed the first two of the wooden stairs.
“Aren’t you Emma’s dad?” Her words were almost not there as she stared at Nigel.
“What?” Spinning round, it was like he was really seeing her for the first time, as a person, a little girl rather than some potential monster.
“Emma Phelps? I was in her class. 7M. I came to a sleepover at your house a couple of months ago and you took us all to McDonalds.” Her sweet face broke into a hesitant smile. “It was really nice that day, Mr. Phelps. Thank you.”
His cheeks wobbled with emotion as he stared at the child, tears welling up once again. I felt a frown pinch my forehead. Why hadn’t he mentioned having a child? And where had she been during his final day with his wife?
Jane glanced around. “Is Emma here?”
Nigel moaned and turned, his slouched frame heading back into the clubhouse. We let him go. Whatever story he had to tell about his daughter, this obviously wasn’t the time. Still, despite everything he’d been through, I couldn’t bring myself to like him.
“No, honey.” George crouched on the stair. “Emma’s not here.”
Jane just nodded as if she really hadn’t expected any different, and then sat on the bottom step staring into the distance. Dave came out and gave her a bottle of coke, which she took without saying a word as the rest of us gathered on the porch. George turned the music off.
“I think that’s done its job now. Anyone else out there obviously doesn’t want to join us, so I guess this is it.” He lifted Gracie Fields carefully from the record player and slid the vinyl regretfully back into its sleeve before putting it with the others on the small table.
“Now all we have to do is decide what we’re going to do from now. We can’t stay here forever.”
He was right. This had been a good gathering place, but it was time to move on. It was almost half past two and the day was ebbing away from us, and I for one didn’t want to find myself outside and unprepared tonight. Who knew what the widows would do when night fell?
Dave must have been thinking about the new species amongst us too, although his voice was lighter in tone than I was feeling.
“Well, at least we haven’t seen any out and about yet. That’s got to be a good thing.” He seemed to take comfort in that until John shook his head, resting his thin body on the railings.
“I wouldn’t read too much into it. They’re newborn. How many newborn animals do you know that just get out into the world the minute they arrive? None.” He paused. “And these don’t have any mothers to show them the ropes. Not of their own kind, anyway.”
I nodded, the memory of that flat above the café flashing again unwelcome in my head. “And they’ve got a supply of food. At least for a while.”
Despite the sunshine, I think we all shivered.
John threw down his butt and ground it out. “They’re going to take a little time to adjust. But personally, I want to get the hell away from here before they start exploring their new world.”
“I second that.” George picked up the dirty glasses and coffee cups to take inside, as if it made a difference now.
“We should go up to the city shopping centre.” It was the first time Katie had spoken. “Get some supplies, like sleeping bags and things. They should have everything we need there.”
She was right. The city centre would be a good place to go. I certainly didn’t fancy working my way through the Stony shops. “That’s a good plan. And there shouldn’t be too many widows around. It’s a working place, not a living place. From what I’ve seen so far, most people got trapped at home.”
George emerged with Nigel in time to catch the end of the conversation.
“Just one problem there, Matt. I don’t have a car, and to be honest, its years since I’ve driven. Probably won’t be much use to you there.”
I grinned at him. “Don’t worry, you can be the navigator.”
“But he has got a point. What are we going to do for cars? I walked here.” Dave shrugged, a little embarrassed by his obvious bachelor lifestyle. “I’ve got one at home, but it’s a little sporty thing. Not really ideal for carrying stuff.”
“We need four-wheel drives. They’ll be the best. Range Rovers or Land Rovers. Who knows where we’ll have to take them, and they’ve got plenty of space.” My adrenaline was starting to pump again with the thought of moving, of doing something.
John pushed his hat slightly back on his head, revealing sharp blue eyes. “Well, we’d better go and find some then. Stony’s not a poor town. I bet there’s plenty dotted around. We’ve just got to find three or four and then get the keys.”
The idea of getting the keys wasn’t pleasant. That meant getting into peoples houses, and although I could see the necessity, it was a sobering thought.
Moving slightly forward, Nigel glared at the young man. “Can’t you hot-wire them or something?”
“Just ’cos I’m under twenty and don’t wear a suit doesn’t make me a criminal. Sorry to disappoint you.” He turned away, but the dangerous snarl was visible. It seemed that it wasn’t only me that had taken a dislike to Phelps.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Having arranged to meet up again at the large roundabout at the top end of the village in an hour, we split up to find some transport. George had paired Katie with me and, despite the wave of guilt and grief that followed it, I felt a small thrill surge through me when she smiled. Maybe she was pleased to be with me, too. I couldn’t help it. I liked that thought.
We walked silently in single file, Jane protected as best she could be between us, and in Katie’s firm grip was the knife I’d fled from the café with. There’d been a moment when it had looked as if Nigel was going to argue that he and George needed it more, but he’d wisely shut his mouth, his bottom lip trembling and moist. If he hadn’t kept himself quiet then I might have forced him into it. However, Jane seemed to unsettle him and make him edgy, and that silenced him. His eyes couldn’t rest on her. It was strange; you’d think she would bring out his paternal side and make him more protective, but as far as I could tell he just wanted to stay as far from her as possible.
Small flies gathered buzzing around my head as we cautiously passed The Plough, and I could see them forming haloes above the girls ahead of me. Jane swatted around her impatiently, but Katie ignored them, her slim frame striding forward like some kind of jungle huntress, out of place amongst the brick and concrete surr
oundings. Although, as the encroaching oppressive heat of the afternoon promised to end this first day of our changed world in an angry downpour, I wondered if she was that out of place at all. There was no safety left in the walls we’d built to protect ourselves. The Englishman’s home was no longer his castle. It had become a nest of widows.
We paused at the narrow cobbled road that led into Horsefair Green. In the long summer days, rock, jazz and folk bands would play on makeshift stages, entertaining lazy crowds relaxing on the grass, and in the cooler months of April and May it would be host to numerous fairs and fetes. The green with the bandstand was a sought after living area, the small terraces that surrounded it fetching huge sums for the charming but very small living space they provided. And I should know. In that past life of less than a week before, someone from the Green putting their house on the market would set my heart racing. They sold themselves and it was an easy bonus.
Along with the smaller properties there were also several very beautiful larger houses, some almost medieval cottages, and others more Georgian in look, with their large windows peering down from impressive whitewashed walls. They were all terraced, and as we stared ahead of us, what had only a few days ago been a beautiful, if slightly quaint, view, was now claustrophobic and brooding. It seemed as if the houses were glaring at us threateningly, daring us to come forward. The small roads at the far two corners seemed a long way away. Too far away.
“Well, I don’t want to sound paranoid,” Katie’s voice was low and soft, “but I’m not sure I want to go in there.” With her free hand I noticed she’d reached for Jane. The child looked up at her sister, and there was more than a little fear in those wide eyes.
I glanced from the women to the green and back again, mulling it over. If I were honest, I wasn’t keen to wander into such a densely populated part of the village myself, not with only one small weapon and a woman and a child. The memory of that man in the café flashed again in my head and I shivered, a ripple of nausea and fear twisting my nerves. If the widows ambushed us, then I doubted there would be much we could do. I wondered how fast they could move. On eight legs, however pale and spindly, I figured they could easily keep up with us. Too easily.
I wasn’t talking myself into going forward, that was for sure, but this was the part of town we’d agreed to check out and I didn’t want to let the others down. Hell, I didn’t want to let myself down. And a very small part of me didn’t want to look like a coward in front of Katie. I guess when you think there’s only one grown and normal woman in the world and she happens to be gorgeous, then the built-in need to impress tends to take over.
So I stood there and dithered until Jane’s small voice broke into my hesitation.
“What about that car there? It’s like a pickup truck.”
Turning round, I found myself facing her ponytail as she looked the other way, pointing across the road. I scanned the street.
“Where?”
“There.” Her finger stretched. She wasn’t pointing at the pavement, but behind it, at the small tucked-away piece of tarmac that served as the car park for The Plough, and I could see what had drawn her attention. Sticking out from the red brick rear wall of the deserted car park was a large shiny black tail end of a beast of a car.
“That looks perfect.” Grinning at the girl, I patted her firmly on the shoulder. “Well done, Jane.” She smiled back at me and it was good to see. “Let’s go and take a look.”
Re-crossing the deserted road, the girls waited on the other side of the low wall while I scouted round the side of the building. There were no signs of any widows and only two cars; the old battered Ford Escort with the tatty paintwork parked in front of the back door, which must have belonged to the landlord, and then the glistening silver and black bodywork of the imposing Mitsubishi Animal that cast its shadow far over the tarmac ground. The wheels were huge, raising it far up from the ground and the height of it appealed to me. Anything that would improve my viewing range seemed like a good idea to me. The rear pickup area was covered over with a hard black roof that looked easy enough to remove, but tough enough to protect the contents from whatever we had to face. At least I hoped it would be tough enough. If it wasn’t, then neither would anything else.
Peering through the tinted glass I could make out two large seats in the back and two in the front, and it seemed to have all the mod cons. The petrol gauge dimly pointed close to the full mark. As far as luck went, we couldn’t really have asked for more, apart from maybe having the keys sitting neatly in the ignition, and that they certainly weren’t. The number plate gleamed up at me. H5 SNK. Personalised. But meaningless now.
I trotted back to the others, and Katie pushed a few loose curls behind one ear, impatient as she spoke. “Well?”
“Yeah, it looks perfect. No keys, though. And I don’t have the first idea how to start a car without them.”
The sun glared at us from above, and Katie was still squinting, even with her hand shielding her eyes.
“Maybe whoever owns it is still inside.”
I weighed the likely outcomes of that scenario and wasn’t pleased with any of them. Getting my hand into the pocket of a cocooned man was not tops on my list of preferred actions and I hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
“Maybe, but maybe not. The bloke that runs this place is really tight on drunk driving. He’s known for taking keys from his customers when he thinks they’ve had too many. He’s been like that ever since one of them drove into a couple walking down London Road. Killed the man outright and left the woman in a wheelchair.”
I looked back at the building behind us. “It could be he’s just hung the keys behind the bar and sent the owner home on foot or in a cab.”
Katie sighed and shrugged. “I suppose there’s only one way we’re going to find out.”
“Correction. There’s only one way I’m going to find out. You two can wait out here.” Katie hadn’t been forthcoming with her and Jane’s experiences of the widows, but I doubted they’d seen anything like I had in the café. And I didn’t want them to. Especially not Jane. She may not have brought out the paternal streak in Nigel Phelps, but I had a bank of building father feelings for my own never to be born child, and they were finding an exit in her.
“Oh right. Like we’re going to stay out here on our own. I don’t think so. And anyway, we have the knife.”
“I was hoping to take that with me.”
She smiled sweetly. “If you think I’m letting go of this, then you’ve got another thing coming. Now come on. I’ll try the front bar door.”
Jane rolled her eyes at me as if this stubbornness was something that she was used to, and we both watched as Katie strolled away. That chin-up determination reminded me of Chloe, and that wasn’t helping me fight the attraction. She disappeared for a second round the corner and then returned, shaking her head. “Locked.”
I figured we could break in if we had to, but I wasn’t keen on making too much noise anymore. Not now that I knew there were probably inhabitants. I nodded towards the wooden archway of the side bar. “You try that one. I’ll try the back door.”
Leaving them there, I trotted back into the shadowy rear of the building, past the huge car that was our target, and came to a stop in the small gap between the battered Escort and the dusty, neglected chipped black wood of the door. Twisting the handle, expecting to feel the resistance of the lock, I held my breath in surprise as it pushed open with ease, silently slicing through the dark air inside.
The footfalls behind me seemed far too loud, and without turning I whispered to them, “It’s open.”
I’d taken my jumper off on the walk from the bowls club and now I untied it from my waist and quietly pulled it on. The heat was still sticky, but I wanted as much protection as possible and the thought of going in there with bare arms made my stomach turn. I stepped over the thin wooden lintel into the gloomy hallway, the girls following me. To our right there was an open door leading into the industrial m
etal gleam of the pub kitchen, a faint smell of stale oil drifting from it, and to our left was the door leading to the downstairs bar. Ahead were the stairs leading up to the living quarters, two dog leads hanging over the side. I didn’t wonder where the dogs might be. There was no need to. The answer was obvious, staring at us from everywhere we looked.
“Oh shit.” Katie breathed behind me. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”
It looked like winter had settled in there, every surface covered with pale, shiny strands, like cobwebs covered in frost, but not quite, too thick, their heavy substance stretching from stairs to walls to tables, with no sense of rhyme or reason and none of the intricate beauty and structure of a spider’s web. The translucent colour, so like those awful legs, shone in blues and pinks in the reflected light, and they left trails of some kind of slime wherever they had been, darker and more glutinous than the strands themselves. I wondered what would happen if you touched it, but I wasn’t keen to find out. When Katie’s soft hand gently brushed my shoulder I almost screamed.
“You know what you said about you coming in here on your own?”
I nodded.
“Well, you know, on second thought I think that sounds fine by me.” Her whisper was so quiet I had to strain to hear it. “I’ll even give you the knife.”
“You’re too kind.”
“Think nothing of it.”
Reaching back, I took the offered weapon, the handle slightly damp from where it had been gripped so tightly in her hand. “Stay here in the doorway. If you hear anything moving upstairs, then call me. Not too loud, though.” The last thing I wanted was us drawing attention to ourselves.
“Okay.” Her breath tickled the back of my neck.
“If you see anything on the other hand, then scream.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about that. I don’t think a scream will be much of a problem.” A finger poked into my ribs. “Now stop stalling.”
Unconsciously sucking in a deep breath, I took a small step to my left, ducking low to avoid my head touching one of those slimy ropes, and slowly moved as quietly as possible through the doorway into the bar. The murmur of my trainers on the lino below seemed like a shriek in the silence as I looked carefully round.
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