Laughter rose out of him, rolling through his chest first, shaking his shoulders, and finally spilling into his face. He bent forward to touch his forehead against hers. Clare matched his grin, enjoying his delight.
“Truthfully?” His hand came up to stroke her cheek. “Are you certain you don’t… have any regret?”
“Out of everything I’ve done in the last week, I regret this the least.”
He wrapped his arms around her. She felt him lift her and leaned up to meet his lips. He was still chilled. The darkness hadn’t left his eyes. But, in that moment, he seemed more alive than he had in the past days. Clare kissed him hungrily, fingers tangling in his hair. He hummed happily. When he finally let her down, she was breathless.
Clare realised she still held the ring. She made to put it back on her finger.
“It’s all right.” There was a smile in his voice. “Keep it hidden for the time being. I have enough handicaps to winning over your sister as it is. I do not mind a secret engagement.”
“Sure.” She tucked it back in beside the USB.
Dorran bent in quickly to kiss her again, before finally letting her go.
Clare felt her smile fade as she stared outside their little square of shelter. Beth hadn’t returned.
She needs time to cool off.
Fog swirled around them in little eddies as drizzling rain coursed through it. She could barely see more than ten meters away. It made her skin crawl.
It’s not safe to be alone. Especially not with visibility this low. I shouldn’t have let her leave.
“Clare?” Dorran watched her then glanced into the mist.
She took a step towards the shelter’s edge. “I’m going to look for her. I’ll be back in a moment.”
“I will come too.” He pulled his jacket’s hood up then moved to do the same to Clare’s.
She cast a quick look at his pale skin and shadowed eyes. “You should wait with the bus. I’ll be quick.”
“No. This is a foreign environment, and we don’t know what is out there. I won’t let you go alone.” He lifted his eyebrows. “It is non-negotiable.”
“Hm. Okay.” She tried not to let him see how grateful she was. The mist played tricks on her eyes, building up shapes that vanished within a second. She wanted Dorran to rest, but she also didn’t want to walk into the unknown alone.
Dorran turned off the portable stove and retrieved weapons from the bus’s compartment. He took a metal pipe, while Clare picked up the baseball bat Beth had kept beside her chair. Then, together, they stepped out from the shelter.
The rain wasn’t heavy, but it was persistent. Even with the water-resistant coat, trickles crawled in under her jacket and dripped down her cotton top. Clare shivered.
The mist had grown thicker as early night dropped the temperatures. She thought she could make out a small patch of straggly trees and, farther ahead, clumped boulders. In the low light, they could have been anything.
“Beth?” Clare raised her voice as high as she dared. He word seemed to sink into the fog, swallowed, unanswered.
She checked Dorran was still at her side. He swung the pipe in slow arcs, eyes narrowed as he tried to see through the haze.
Clare thought she could hear sounds. She tilted her head, trying to pinpoint their direction, and stumbled towards them. Her shoes sank deep into the spongy ground as they moved downhill.
She risked calling again. “Beth!” Just like before, the word was snatched away and muffled by the endless white. Clare strained, but the only sound she could make out was a low, rhythmic noise. Like stones being scuffed. Or like a gathering of hollows chattering.
Stress keyed Clare’s nerves tight. The longer she went without a reply, the more afraid she felt.
Beth wouldn’t have gone far, would she?
It had been a mistake to let her leave on her own. Clare forged ahead, anxiety making her move faster than was wise. The noise grew closer. Trees, barely clinging to the slope, had grown lean and spindly from years of harsh winds and poor soil. Several had lost their grip on the hill and lay with their roots exposed.
Then a shape appeared through the fog. A silver ribbon, shimmering. Clare slowed. It took a second to realise what she was looking at.
A river had developed in the valley to carry the unprecedented deluge of water. It was recent enough that straggly, brown grass still lived in the riverbed, being pulled unrelentingly downhill. The water sloshed and jostled over itself, creating the noise that had drawn Clare’s attention. She looked behind them. She still thought she could see a hint of light from their camp, but it was so faint that it was almost invisible.
Clare cupped her hands around her mouth. All pretence at noise moderation vanished as she yelled, “Beth!”
This time, she had a reply. A chattering, jibbering howl rose from the hills. It was answered by a second and then a third hollow.
Chapter Five
“Oh.” Clare took a step back.
Dorran’s hand touched her shoulder. “We need to get back to the bus.”
She shook her head furiously. “Beth’s still out here.”
He hesitated, his lips pulled back from clenched teeth. Then he gave Clare another push. “I’ll search for her. Run for the bus and get inside. Don’t open the door unless you hear our voices.”
“Dorran, no—”
The words broke off as she saw movement behind him. Clare grasped Dorran’s jacket and wrenched him towards herself. A hollow’s jaw snapped through the air where his shoulder had been a second before.
The hollow had four arms: two longer, thinner protrusions growing directly below its original pair. All four of them snatched at Dorran as it rocked past, carried by its momentum.
Dorran swung the pipe past Clare. It made a heavy cracking noise as it hit a hollow Clare hadn’t seen.
She caught spots of white spiralling past her as the hollow’s teeth broke out of its jaw. Then Dorran grasped her arm and swung her around to face the bus. “Run!”
Instead, Clare put her back against his. There were at least two hollows, with more coming; she wouldn’t let him sacrifice himself for her again. Dorran planted his feet, weapon raised, but she could still detect a sway in his stance that belied his exhaustion.
A creature came at her through the mist. Its lopsided head rocked with each step. It opened its mouth, and its jaw was filled with row upon row of teeth. Hundreds of them jammed into its maw in uneven lines.
The shock slowed Clare’s reflexes. She swung a fraction of a second too late. Instead of connecting with the monster’s head, the wooden bat caught in its jaw. The rows of teeth tightened over her weapon, splintering it. Clare tried to pull back. The hollow wrenched its head to the side, and Clare gasped as the bat was dragged out of her grasp. Her palms smarted from where the fractured wood scraped her.
Dorran staggered, bumping into her back. Clare looked over her shoulder and saw the creature with four arms had returned. Dorran held the pipe ahead of himself with both hands, trying to force some distance between himself and the monster. It loomed over him, two of its hands holding the metal pipe, the other two reaching past it to grasp at Dorran’s face.
Clare was unable to help without her weapon. She crouched, hands running through the mist, and fixed on a rock the size of her fist jutting out of the marshy ground. She wrenched it free and raised it, just in time to see the many-toothed hollow returning.
Splinters from her broken bat poked through its face. They pierced its lips and cheeks. One even jutted out from just under its eye, dripping dark blood over its jaw. Clare, choking, hurled the rock at it. She hit its mouth and flinched as one of the splinters was forced deeper into the creature’s throat. It didn’t stop coming, though. Clare braced herself and raised her arms.
A blur of motion came from the side. The many-toothed hollow froze as a metal bar ran through its head. It hung, suspended and twitching. Then the bar was pulled back, and the hollow dropped with a gush of dark blood. Beth stood
over it. Her blonde hair was plastered down by the rain, but fire blazed in her eyes.
Dorran grunted as he threw the four-armed creature to the side. It howled as it hit the ground and scrambled back up, ready to strike. Beth intercepted it. Teeth bared, she swung again and again, using the metal pole to bludgeon and impale indiscriminately. Dorran moved forward, guarding her back, with Clare positioned between them.
The four-armed hollow fell away, limp. It tumbled down the slope until it plunged into the river, where the current dragged it away. Beth stepped back, eyes hard as she scanned the mist.
“Into the bus,” she snarled. “More will be coming.”
Dorran kept one hand on Clare’s back as they ran up the hill. The bus emerged from the fog, the light acting as a beacon.
The camp was still set up; the bus’s compartment hung open, and the shade cloth was still extended. It meant the bus was anchored to that spot, and they were out of time to pack the equipment away.
Dorran shoved Clare through the open door then turned. “I can—”
“In,” Beth nearly screamed. He jumped after Clare, lips pressed together tightly.
Clare was shaking. She held her hands out to Dorran. “I’m sorry—”
“It’s all right. You’re all right.” He reached towards her, and she fell into the hug, grateful. “Are you hurt?”
“No, no, I’m fine.” His shirt was wet, but she could still feel the warmth of his body underneath. She closed her eyes, just glad to be able to hold him.
The bus door slammed. Clare and Dorran jumped apart.
Beth stood by the driver’s seat. Her eyes were wide, but her expression was unreadable. For a second, they were encased by perfect, horrible silence. Then Beth whispered, “Get into some dry clothes.”
Clare took a half step forward, a hand held out. “Uh, Beth—”
“Try to be quick. More hollows will be coming. The faster we can be quiet, the sooner they will leave.” She turned to the front window, unfastened a clasp, and pulled a thick metal shutter down over the glass.
In the distance, a hollow screamed. Clare backed away from the bus’s front, trying to focus through the shivers. She felt sick in her stomach, but she knew Beth was right. They could talk once they made sure they would live through the night.
She reached into the racks above their heads and pulled towels and fresh outfits down. That was one thing Beth had in plentiful supply: clean clothes. Finding a second set to fit Dorran was a challenge, but she managed it.
He hung back, shrouded in darkness near the bus’s rear seats, swaying slightly and his breathing ragged. Clare held a towel up to him. She dropped her voice to a whisper that she hoped Beth wouldn’t hear. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” He took the towel and the clothes and stepped away from her.
Beth sat in the driver’s seat and faced the closed metal shutters. She was soaked, her clothes dripping over the floor, but she made no move to change. Clare wanted to reach out to her but didn’t know what to say. Instead, she crept in between a row of seats where she would have some privacy and rushed to change into a drier outfit.
There was no better option, so she hung the wet clothes over the back of the seats, next to the outfits they had shed earlier that day. A muffled noise dragged her attention to the nearest window. Something moved beyond it. Clare gave up on the wet shirt she’d been trying to spread out, and silently dropped into a seat.
Fingernails dug into bus’s panels. Teeth clicked. Something heavy scrambled up over the windows and thudded onto the roof.
Clare pulled her legs up underneath herself, her back to the window. To her left, Dorran sat near the rear of the bus. His back was straight, and his dark eyes glinted in the low light. To her right, Beth remained in the driver’s seat, unmoving. Clare had never felt more isolated. She hugged the new jacket around herself and squeezed her eyes closed.
The hollows picked at the bus for what felt like hours. Their low, curious chattering echoed from every direction. Clare hated the noise, but it never seemed to stop. She clenched her teeth to hold back the scream that wanted to escape.
Occasionally, one of the hollows would pass next to Clare’s windows. Through the tiny gaps around the boards, she could see grey fingers prying at the structure, picking at the screws, trying to poke through to touch the glass. Once, an eye appeared in the gap. Clare held perfectly still, breath frozen. There was barely any light inside the bus, but she didn’t know how well the hollows might be able to see in the dark. The eye rolled in its socket, passing over her, the chairs, and the ceiling. Then it disappeared, replaced by the too-long fingers once again.
She couldn’t speak and couldn’t move. Any hint of noise would only make the hollows redouble their efforts. The only thing she could do was sit as still as possible and pray the creatures left quickly. Feet thumped above her head. Something hissed.
An itch started below one of Clare’s shoulder blades. She couldn’t scratch it. Her eyes burned from tiredness, but she couldn’t let them close, or else she might roll over and make noise in her sleep. Sometimes, she tried to watch Dorran. All she could make out in the gloom was the silhouette of his wet hair and sometimes the flash of his eyes. She thought he might be watching her too.
Eventually, the chattering noise softened. Dorran finally moved. He leaned over to rest his head against the windows. The motion was small, but Clare still flinched at the rustle his clothes made. She waited for the hollows to howl, but they didn’t.
She turned towards Beth. Her sister remained pin-straight in the driver’s seat. Clare made to rise, to approach her. One of Beth’s hands rose, silhouetted, and the finger pressed over her lips. The hollows might have left, but they still couldn’t afford noise. Clare nodded and settled back into her seat.
Rain continued to wash over them. The sound was soothing, but Clare thought she could hear distant chattering through it. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Between the rain’s tapping and the near-inaudible breathing of her companions, Clare fell asleep.
She didn’t know how much time passed before she cracked her eyes open. Her neck was stiff from the angle she’d slept in, but she wasn’t as cold as she’d been the night before.
The lights at the front of the bus were on. Beth had left the rest of the van dark, but the warm glow floating out from the driver’s seat helped to dispel some of the shadows. The engine was running, and the heater was on. Beth had said it was a waste of fuel the day before. But now, a gentle warmth radiated around them.
Sunlight came through the gaps in the windows. It was insipid and grey, but she didn’t care. It was the first natural light she’d seen in days.
A thick blanket had been draped over Clare. It had been tucked around her chin carefully, the way Beth had done when Clare was a child. Clare slowly, groggily sat up and looked towards the back of the bus. Dorran still slept. A blanket had been placed over him too. Beth hadn’t tucked it in, though. Instead, she’d tossed it over his form, almost carelessly. Despite that, Clare hoped she could take it as a good sign.
“Morning.”
Beth sat in the navigator’s seat, her legs propped up on the armrest as she examined the map. Her tone was clipped but not angry. The last scraps of sleepiness faded from Clare. “Good morning.”
“What do you want for breakfast? We have cereal or tinned fruit.”
Beth kept her attention on the map. Clare licked her lips. Are we just going to ignore last night? Ignore the fight, ignore that she saw me hugging Dorran? Just… pretend none of it happened?
The surrealism was too much for her to handle. The question—what do you want for breakfast?—was a familiar morning greeting. Beth had to know she was hearkening back to old days. But the words were said with none of the cheerfulness Beth had once imbued.
“Um. Either is fine. Whatever you have more of.”
Finally, Beth looked at her. The expression was strange. There was sadness and resignation, but something else mixed into i
t too. She folded her map and put it aside. “Hell, we made it through the night. That means today is a good day, and we deserve good food. I’ll get you some of both. Wake your friend.”
Beth opened the door and stepped outside. Clare hesitated a second, then she stood, folded her blanket, and approached Dorran.
He was already awake. He rolled to his feet as she neared him, a silent question dancing in his eyes. Is everything all right?
She didn’t know how to answer that. She took his hand and squeezed it. Then they paced down the bus’s aisle to reach the door.
Cold air gusted around them as they stepped outside. The cloth shelter was still out, but there was no rain to warrant it. Clare blinked in the early-morning light. Mist coiled around their hill, moving in slow, lazy bands as weak puffs of air disturbed it. Condensation rose from her mouth with every exhalation.
“Shut the door to keep the warmth in.” Beth had already turned on the portable cooker and was heating water over it. She nodded. “Then go get yourselves a seat.”
“Is it going to be safe to sit out here?”
“Yes. The sun’s up. They won’t come back into the open unless we make too much noise.”
As Clare closed the bus door, she saw the outside of the van had taken a beating from the hollows’ exploration. The foldable chairs had been knocked over and dragged a dozen feet away. The plyboard over the windows was marred with scratches and, in some places, dark blood from where a hollow’s nail had been broken off. The wet ground had been churned into mud in a ring around the vehicle, and even its white sides bore more scrapes than Clare remembered.
She went to retrieve the chairs and, with Dorran, set them up in a circle around the stove. Beth poured the boiled water into three mugs and used a single teabag to infuse them all. She passed the cups out without saying a word, then she slid into her own seat, staring at the steam rising from her drink.
The silence lasted a minute. Clare couldn’t bear it. She scuffed her shoes over the ground. “So, um—”
Whispers in the Mist: Black Winter Book Three Page 4