Whispers in the Mist: Black Winter Book Three

by Coates, Darcy

  “Nature,” Beth murmured. “A good sign. Start looking for kindling. I’ll work on the fire.”

  Finding dry wood was not an easy task. As Clare scouted through the dense tangles, she sometimes found branches that had been shielded from the rain by leaves or crops of rocks. Even then, it was the difference between damp wood and drenched wood. Their only saving grace was that most of the branches were long dead.

  She and Dorran brought armfuls of material back to Beth, who picked through it to build her fire. She’d cleared a patch of dirt in the middle of the clearing and had brought fire starters out of the bus. Soon, a plume of thick smoke began to rise as the fire caught.

  The sun had nearly vanished. Beth beckoned to Clare as she stopped to drop off wood. “Do you remember where you put those candles you found?”

  “Yeah. Would they help?”

  “They should. Light them in a circle at the edge of the clearing. It won’t be much, but it’ll buy us some warning if anything tries to sneak up on us.”

  Clare leapt back into the bus and found the pack of twenty tall, narrow candles she’d taken from the farmhouse. They wouldn’t be able to light the area thoroughly, but they would do a better job than the struggling campfire. She paced around the clearing’s edge, digging the candles into the ground at even intervals and lighting their wicks before moving on. By the time she returned to Beth with an empty box, they had a weak ring of light surrounding them.

  Beth had worked miracles with her fire. It still released billowing smoke that stung her eyes and scratched her throat, but it was warm and growing.

  “Keep an eye on this,” Beth said, stretching as she stood. “And start dinner. Whatever you feel like. I’m going to go clean up.”

  “I’ll come—”

  “You’ll cook dinner, end of discussion. I’m not going far.”

  Clare bit her lip. “How’s your shoulder doing?”

  “Fine.” She sounded indifferent, but a corner of the medical kit poked out of her jacket pocket. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Yell if you hear anything approaching.”

  Beth sauntered downhill in search of one of the temporary rivers funnelling water away from the higher ground. The candles painted a yellow sheen across her hair and jacket as she passed between them, then she vanished into the night. Clare released a slow, measured breath and focussed on the fire.

  Dorran brought out the folding chairs and set one up for Clare. His movements were steady and assured, but Clare had the sense it took him effort to make them that way.

  He’s not used to being vulnerable. Because in his old life, vulnerability was punished.

  Clare pulled her chair closer to his, until she could hold him. She threaded one arm around his and leaned against him. His muscles relaxed, and the smile looked a little less forced.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Better.”

  She wished she could trust him. Clare reached up to touch his face. His eyes closed as she ran her fingertips across his skin. Cold and clammy. She didn’t pull away but rested her palm against his cheek as he leaned into the touch.

  Give the antibiotics time. She tried to match his smile. He’ll be all right. He has to be all right.

  Her thoughts switched to the backpack. She’d been so focussed on finding antibiotics that she’d all but ignored the rest of the contents. “Wait. I forgot. We have painkillers now. I’ll get you some.”

  “I’m fine, Clare—”

  She was already out of her seat and climbing through the open bus door. Dorran called after her, trying to insist that he didn’t need them, but Clare ignored it as she found the small blue box where she’d stashed it in the luggage compartment.

  Why didn’t I think of this before? Beth’s been driving with an injured shoulder too. There’s not much I can do for either of them, but I can at least make sure they’re not hurting.

  After returning to the fire with the tablets and a bottle of water, she popped two into Dorran’s hand despite his sustained objections, along with his due dose of antibiotics. As he reluctantly swallowed them, Clare glanced towards the clearing’s edge. Beth was trying to clean her shoulder. It had to be painful. A couple of painkillers might not completely stop that, but they would at least make the ordeal more bearable. “I’ll run some to Beth. Be back in a moment.”

  Dorran began to rise out of his chair. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No, you’ll stay here.” Clare put a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him back down. “Remember what Beth said. We need someone to watch the bus.”

  He pressed his lips together, glancing towards the twisted, black branches surrounding them. “Hm. Don’t go far.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Stay within calling distance. Shout if you see or hear anything unusual.”

  “Okay.”

  “If you don’t return within three minutes, I’ll come looking for you.”

  Clare laughed and squeezed his shoulder. “Beth wouldn’t have gone far. Besides, you’ve seen how she handles the hollows.”

  He sighed, his eyes tight and worried. “All right. Just be safe.”

  “I will.” Clare raised a hand in goodbye as she jogged away from the fire, towards where Beth had disappeared.

  Stepping through the ring of candles was a surreal experience. One moment, she was surrounded by light—it wasn’t strong, but it was enough that she could make out the ground and the shapes around her. As soon as she put the candles at her back, the shapes began to blend together, bleeding into one another like an optical illusion. Clare slowed and reached one hand ahead of herself as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dimness that came from the last moments of twilight.

  The trees were short, barely reaching above her head, but their limbs were tangled and thick. Some natural disaster had killed them years before. Drought, Clare suspected. It had left the branches bare and sharp. They snagged her jacket and scratched at her exposed skin as she wove her way between them.

  She caught the sound of rushing water in the distance and followed it. The ground tended downwards and became spongy. It only took a minute to reach the river, which had overflowed its usual bounds and gurgled around the closest trees. Clare reached the water’s edge and squinted as she looked in both directions. The trees encroached on the bending river, masking its shores from her sight. She couldn’t see Beth. Knowing that Dorran wouldn’t wait for long, she turned left.

  Not far away, the river curved sharply, creating a shore. A figure knelt there. Clare quickened her pace into a jog and opened her mouth to call to Beth, but her voice caught in her throat. Something was deeply wrong.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Beth crouched on the riverbank, holding a blood-tinged cloth in the water to rinse it clean. She’d removed her jacket and scarf to strip down to just her bra. It was the first time Clare had seen her without the layers.

  The bullet wound was like a red stain on her shoulder. It looked swollen; the hole itself was small, but a discoloured tinge spread out from it. The thanites were efficient, though. The mark was already scabbing over.

  Clare’s eyes were irrevocably drawn away from the bullet hole. Without the jacket, Beth’s back was visible for the first time. Nausea rose through Clare. She dropped the painkillers and clamped her hand over her mouth to muffle a cry.

  Beth heard. She turned, eyes flashing in the low light. Her expression froze into something wild. Slowly, she rose out of her crouch.

  Her spine rippled under her skin as she moved. The vertebrae were overgrown, poking up like spines. The highest two had sliced through the skin. They were what Beth had been cleaning.

  Clare couldn’t breathe. She locked eyes with Beth, her hand pressed over her mouth, every hair on her body standing up. Around them, the dead branches creaked. A bird cried in the distance. The river gurgled as it snatched at dead trees. Clare barely heard them.

  The ferocity in Beth’s features melted into sadness. She held out one hand then let it drop.
“You weren’t supposed to see this.”

  “You…” The words felt as though they were choking Clare. “You’re a…”

  “I don’t know what I am.” Beth bent to pick up her shirt. Clare flinched at the movement. Beth noticed, and her face tightened further as she held the fabric over her chest. Clare still couldn’t stop staring. Staring at her back. Staring at the spines. Staring at the hollow one she called her sister.

  “The day the stillness arrived, I waited too long to shut the bunker door.” Beth closed her eyes. The corners of her mouth pulled down. “You know how I keep telling you not to gamble with your safety? Well, I gambled that day. I kept hoping you might arrive. Even though our phones had been disconnected, even though the world was falling apart on TV, I waited at my open bunker door, watching the street, hoping, just in case…”

  Her voice broke. She dropped her head. Her fingers clenched her shirt, pulling the fabric until it threatened to tear. Then she took a breath and continued, voice shaking. “I wouldn’t stop hoping, so I ignored the warning signs. I kept the door open when the sky turned from blue to black, and it started pelting snow. I kept it open when I heard people screaming in the distance. I didn’t shut the door until my own lungs started to burn.”

  Cold prickled at Clare’s cheeks as tears raced towards her chin. Beth’s hair hung over her face, hiding her expression, but the pain was still clear in her voice.

  “I wasn’t fully infected. Not like the other people in my street. Shutting the bunker door limited how many of the machines could reach me, I guess. But… it was enough. I could feel myself changing in the dark of my bunker. I knew I wasn’t like the creatures outside—the monsters that kept clawing at my door, making that awful clicking noise as they tried to get in. I still had my mind. But I was changing, and I couldn’t stop it.” She took a shuddering breath.

  “You…” Clare lowered her hand, trying to pull her mind back together. “You’re AB negative, right? I couldn’t remember your blood type, but…” But AB negative is the only blood type that lets crawlers keep their mind.

  “Yeah.” Beth’s shoulders sagged. “Clare, baby, I’m so sorry. I should have told you sooner. But I knew it would mean I would have to leave, and I couldn’t stand to let you go. I just wanted to be with you for a little longer.”

  Clare took a step back. Her shoulders bumped into one of the trees. She folded her arms across her chest as she tried to breathe enough to resupply her mind with oxygen. It was starting to work again, to catch up to everything, to process what she was seeing. Her eyes flicked back to the spines. She forced her gaze down to the ground.

  “Beth…” She didn’t want to ask the question, but she had to know. “Is… is it changing your mind?”

  Her sister’s eyes were flat. “Yes.”

  She’s been so different since the stillness. Sharper. Angier. Clare swallowed. “How much is it changing?”

  Beth looked aside, towards the river, and her features softened with grief. “I still feel like a person. Most of the time. It’s easier when I’m around you. Seeing your face reminds me of my old life, of who I was. Sometimes I can forget what’s happening completely. But you said the thanites make you mad… and I can feel it.”

  Clare pressed her lips together, waiting for Beth to continue.

  “I don’t sleep anymore. I don’t like the light. I can’t feel pain. This bullet hole in my shoulder? I’ve had to pretend like I can feel it, just so you wouldn’t suspect anything.” Her expression abruptly darkened, losing some of its humanity, and Clare caught a glimpse of the monster inside. “And I’m hungry all the time. Oh, Clare, I’m so hungry. Food isn’t enough. I’ve kept the hunger under control until now. But the others… they like human flesh. And I keep thinking. I wonder what it would taste like. I wonder if I could finally feel satisfied…”

  Shivers ran through Clare. Beth’s face was still familiar, with all of the angles and slopes she knew well. But it was like the soul behind it had been taken away, leaving it alien.

  Then Beth blinked, and the familiarity was back. Her lips twitched into a bitter mimic of a smile. “It was my plan to get you somewhere safe. Then I would leave. But I think our time is up.”

  Clare closed her eyes. Her heart was like a drum, drowning out all other noises. Her limbs felt too heavy. She forced her feet to move her forward and raised her arms. She swallowed the repulsion and horror and embraced Beth. Her sister stiffened and tried to pull back, so Clare hugged her more tightly. Beth remained frozen for a second, then slowly, cautiously, she relaxed. She lifted her own arms around Clare in turn.

  “I don’t want you to leave,” Clare whispered. “You’re still my sister. No matter what. We’ll figure this out.”

  Beth’s shoulders shook. She dropped her head to rest it against Clare’s. Her breaths were cold as they ghosted across Clare’s neck.

  Hugging Beth, Clare could feel the awful spines under her hands. They were sharp and at least two inches long each, straining against the skin. She could see gore glistening around the two that had punctured through. She forced herself to hold on.

  “Thank you,” Beth whispered, her voice raw with emotion. “I’m so sorry.”

  I should have noticed earlier. Clare closed her eyes so that she wouldn’t have to look at the spines. I never saw Beth sleep. She used her bad shoulder to drive the bus for hours without complaint. She never let me see her without the jacket and scarf.

  She dreaded the answer to her next question, but she had to ask. “Is it getting worse?”

  “Yes. Not quickly. But it gets a little worse every day.”

  Clare nodded. She hated the answer, but she’d expected it. The thanites continued to mutate their hosts, redesigning over their own work in escalating layers.

  Beth pulled back first. Her cheeks glistened with moisture, but her expression was set, and some of the hardness had returned to her face. “I don’t expect you to be nice to me, you know. I’m halfway to becoming the enemy. And it’s going to get worse.”

  “We’ll…” She swallowed, tucking her arms in under her shoulders. “We’ll deal with that. You’re my sister. A few extra bones doesn’t change that.”

  Beth pulled a wry smile. “It’s a bit more than some extra bones, love. But I appreciate it.”

  Behind them, a voice floated through the fog. Dorran, sounding stressed, called, “Clare?”

  Beth jolted backwards and clutched the shirt tightly against her chest. Her eyes widened as the remaining colour vanished from her face.

  “Oh, damn it.” Clare ran her hands through her hair. “I promised him I wouldn’t be long.”

  “Don’t tell him.” For the first time, Beth looked frightened. “Please.”

  “But—”

  Dorran called again, closer. “Clare! Answer me!”

  “Put your shirt back on,” Clare hissed then raised her voice. “I’m here! Everything’s fine!”

  Beth rushed to tug her shirt on as the sound of snapping branches drew nearer. Clare snatched the jacket off the ground and held it out for her, and Beth yanked it on over the top. The thick fabric disguised the spines, and the scarf wrapped over the top hid the highest protrusions.

  Dorran emerged into the clearing. His dark eyes darted from Clare to Beth then scanned the surrounding environment, searching for danger. When he looked back at Clare, he lifted his eyebrows pointedly.

  “Sorry.” She sent him a sheepish grin and scuffed her shoes across the dirt. “We started talking, and I lost track of time.”

  He exhaled. “As long as you’re safe. Everything fine, Beth?”

  “Yep.” Her voice was tight.

  Dorran nodded. “Are you ready to come back to camp? I started dinner.”

  “We’ll be right behind you,” Clare promised.

  Dorran hesitated, and Clare knew he must have guessed that something had happened. He glanced over them again, his eyes questioning, but didn’t press the issue. Clare waited until he’d turned and disappeared in
to the trees before leaning close to Beth.

  “I have to tell him.”

  Her expression hardened. “He’s not going to be as forgiving as you are.”

  “He’s a good man. I promise. You can trust him.”

  Beth grabbed her sleeve. She leaned in close so that her voice wouldn’t travel. “He has one focus in this world: killing any monster that threatens you. And, baby, I am a monster. He doesn’t have the benefit of nostalgia to cloud his judgement.”

  “Firstly”—Clare grabbed the wrist that held her hand and leaned in just as far as Beth had—“my judgement isn’t clouded, thank you very much. You’ve been infected, but you’re not a monster.”

  Beth’s laugh was rueful. “Oh, you sure about that?”

  “Secondly,” Clare charged on, “I’m not going to lie to Dorran. He’s an equal party. And the only way we’re going to be safe out here is if we trust each other. I trust him. I trust you. And I expect the both of you to show each other the same level of respect.”

  “All right. Have it your way.” A flash of danger passed through Beth’s eyes. “But don’t be shocked if he doesn’t take the news as kindly as you did. And don’t blame me if I’m forced to run.”

  They let go of each other. Dorran had gained so much distance on them that Clare could no longer hear his footsteps. She licked her lips and found they were dry. “I’ll talk to him alone. It might be easier that way.”

  “If you think so.” Beth pushed her hair away from her face. “I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.”

  As Clare stepped back into the woods, she had a chance to take one last glance at her sister. Beth stood on the riverbank, staring down at the water, her back straight and proud but her head bowed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Clare’s mind churned as she hiked back towards the bus. Beth expected Dorran would try to drive her off. Clare knew better. Dorran was strong, and he could be aggressive when he needed to be, but he was also deeply empathetic. He would understand Beth’s situation. He would be kind to her.