Whispers in the Mist: Black Winter Book Three

by Coates, Darcy

  “What about the furnace?”

  “That might work. It should be hot enough to burn bone.”

  Johann cleared a walkway between the creatures. Clare stepped out first, carrying the hatchet. It was one of the few weapons that hadn’t been stained by blood the previous night. Unathi moved at her side, holding a bat loosely. Johann stalked behind them. He swung his shovel.

  At Clare’s nod, Unathi pressed the button to retract the surgery doors, sealing Dorran, Becca, and Niall inside. Dorran had returned to his position beside Niall’s bed, his dark eyes watching Clare until the last moment. A small rush of affection for him made her smile. He worried about her just as much as she worried about him.

  She sobered as she returned her focus to the hallway. “We need essentials. Food and water. We should also get towels and blankets. Anything else?”

  “That will be enough for a first trip,” Unathi said. “We can always come back for more later.”

  Everywhere they looked, they encountered dead hollows. Clare marvelled at how many there were. The attack had been an enormous undertaking.

  They would have been controlled by one of the smart ones. But why did it bring so many of them down here? Did it assume there would be enough people here for them all to eat?

  She passed a cluster of contorted bodies and swallowed. Maybe the leader had been motivated by something beyond its own hunger. Resentment against humans, like Beth had begun to develop? Did they feel pity for their starving brethren? Or simply madness?

  She doubted they would ever know. If the leader had come into the bunker—and Clare was sure it had—it would be dead, one of the countless bodies they passed, indistinguishable from its mindless counterparts.

  They turned in to the kitchen. It was comfortably large and clean, except for the hollows’ activity. Stainless steel pots hung above the stove, and the chopping block was full of sharpened knives. West had obviously taken pride in the space. Clare caught sight of a framed photo on top of the cupboards, and her heart ached. A small dog, covered in black-and-white splotches and with its tongue lolling, grinned up at the camera.

  Johann took a shuddering breath. “He loved that damn dog. I wish—I wish I hadn’t been so mean about it—”

  “It’s all right,” Unathi said, removing her glasses and polishing them furiously. “I think he knew you didn’t really mean it.”

  “At least they’ll get to be together again.” Johann swallowed as he stared up at the photo. “Polo, take good care of him for me, won’t you?”

  Clare rested a hand on Johann’s arm. He was shaking. They would all need to grieve, but she couldn’t afford to let them sink into melancholy, not when the others in the surgery were waiting for their return. “Johann, does Niall have a favourite food?”

  “Huh?” The big man blinked. “I mean, yeah. Anything with sugar. You’d think a doctor would avoid it, but he has the biggest sweet tooth of anyone I know.”

  Clare chuckled. “That’s good. Why don’t you see if you can find something he’ll like? We’ll bring it back as a treat for him.”

  “Yeah.” Johann, revitalised, began looking around the kitchen. “Let’s do that. I’ll see if I can find him some chocolate. That’s his favourite.”

  “Unathi, can you help me collect the water?”

  “Of course.”

  Clare opened cupboards under the sink and found two large pitchers. With the hollows gone, it would theoretically be safe to open up the surgery’s air ducts and water pipes again, but Clare preferred to play it safe, at least for a few more hours. She focussed on filling her pitcher next to Unathi at the double sink. As the water swirled closer to the top of the glass jug, Clare’s skin prickled into goose bumps.

  Something’s wrong.

  She turned, surveying the room. The benches, the spotless metal pots, the open pantry doors, and a closed door leading into a room for long-term storage. That was where most of the preserved fruit and vegetables had gone, Clare knew. Johann dug through the open pantry, a simple closet with wide shelves. He muttered under his breath as he searched its contents.

  Nothing seemed out of place. The crawler horde, not hungry for human food, had left the kitchen fairly intact.

  Something’s wrong.

  She blinked and saw herself back by the fire, struggling to wake up, her skin prickling as her subconscious tried to warn her about what Beth was doing to Dorran.

  Something’s wrong.

  “Clare?” Unathi asked.

  Her pitcher was overflowing, the water gurgling down the drain. Clare held up a hand to ask for silence. She couldn’t see anything wrong, so she focussed on her other senses. The musk of hollows lingered everywhere. Is that what I’m reacting to? The smell?

  She turned to her ears, holding her breath to listen. Water drained down the sink, unchecked. Metal and glass clattered as Johann moved through the cupboard. Unathi breathed. Johann breathed. And a third being breathed along with them.

  Clare reached for her hatchet. The sound was close. She tilted her head, trying to pinpoint it, and fixed on the long-term storage room. Unathi opened her mouth to ask a question, but Clare lifted her hand again.

  Johann swung away from the pantry, holding up a block of chocolate. “Look what I found! We weren’t technically supposed to bring processed food. I bet Niall snuck this onboard for a bad day. Well, I guess that’s today, huh?”

  He noticed Clare’s expression, and his smile vanished. His eyes darted to the hatchet in her hand. He placed the chocolate on the bench then reached for his own shovel.

  Clare stretched a hand towards the storage room’s handle. The breathing coming from inside was rapid but shallow. It was trying to avoid detection. She lifted her weapon, set her stance, and turned the handle.

  The monster inside burst out.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Clare lunged away, swinging her hatchet. The blade hit a bag of flour and sent a plume of white spiralling across the space.

  The hollow loomed forward, emerging from the storage room one horrible vertebrae at a time. Its round skull was nearly completely hairless, bearing just a few thin strands. Its jaw receded. The neck stretched on. Clare’s first glimpse of it made her brain recoil from the shock. The neck, articulated and twisting like a snake, stretched nearly two feet long.

  Johann bellowed as he charged forward, shovel raised. The hollow neatly wove out of his way. Lidless eyes followed Johann as he tumbled past, into the storage room. Clare held out her hand. She had no chance to stop it. The hollow one stepped out of the room and slammed the door behind itself, locking Johann inside.

  “You killed my babies.”

  The words sent chills through Clare. It was the barest imitation of human speech, like a dog trying to mimic its owner’s voice, a stale and lifeless series of syllables forced through an ill-suited larynx.

  The creature’s body had been twisted badly. Nubs that might have been the beginnings of new limbs poked out of its torso and thighs. It had dressed itself in strips of fabric woven around its body. The colours hinted at a desire to be beautiful, but the application represented the state of the creature’s mind: broken beyond repair, an echo of what it once had been.

  It reached towards the chopping block. The beginning of two new fingers wriggling from its wrist. The sight nearly froze Clare. It was only when she saw the glint of a silver knife being drawn free that she forced herself into action.

  She raised the hatchet and lunged forward. The head bobbed ahead of her, and she angled her weapon for it. A fraction of a second before her blow landed, the head pulled away. There was nothing except for the storage room’s door behind it. The hatchet embedded into the wood. Hot pain arced down Clare’s shoulder. She twisted away, leaving the hatchet behind.

  Again, the awful imitation of a voice rang through the room. “You killed my babies.”

  Clare’s pulse thumped in her ears, almost in time with Johann’s fist on the storage room’s door. The head bobbed just out of Cla
re’s reach, taunting. The lidless eyes rolled towards Unathi, whose eyes were wide with fear as she lifted her rebar.

  “No!” Clare yelled. “Get back!”

  The elongated neck gave it a distinct advantage. It held its head forward, almost like an offering, a red flag waved in front of a bull. As soon as it was attacked, its flexible neck retracted the head, leaving the attacker charging at thin air. They couldn’t go for the obvious target. They had to attack the slower body.

  Clare grabbed Unathi and dragged her back, out of the hollow’s reach. It held the knife at its side, unthreatening, but Clare knew the blade would rise as soon as she moved closer. Her hatchet was embedded in the storage room’s door behind it. Her eyes flicked around the room, searching for a weapon.

  She grasped the nearest pot, a thick bronze object that was large enough to heat a meal for six. Keeping Unathi behind herself, she set her pose, preparing to spring. The hollow extended its neck. She kept her eyes firmly on it but switched her focus to her peripheral vision… and the body two feet to the head’s left.

  Clare lunged forward, feinting for the head. The neck retracted with the lithe speed of a striking snake. This time, Clare was ready. Her trajectory carried her towards the body, and she slammed her pot into the reedy bones just above its torso.

  She’d hoped to break its neck at the lowest vertebra. Her aim was slightly off, and she hit one of its collarbones instead. The creature fell onto its back, and Clare didn’t give up the advantage but planted herself on it, legs straddling its squirming chest, bringing the weapon down again and again.

  The head wove, avoiding her blows. The hand with the knife rose. Clare saw it out of the corner of her eye and knew she had to move but couldn’t bring herself to give up the slim advantage she’d gained. It sliced into her shoulder. Clare hissed as hot pain dripped down her arm, but she didn’t retreat. The knife pulled back for another attack then abruptly dropped from the hollow’s grip, tumbling to the floor, as the rebar pierced its hand.

  Unathi stood at Clare’s side, shaking and with sweat dripping down her nose. She wrenched the bat back and brought it down across the neck. The hollow screeched, arms coming up to grasp at Clare.

  “Quick!” Unathi shouted. She pressed the wood across the monster’s throat below its chin, holding its head still. Clare raised the pot and brought it down. Two teeth vanished from the monster’s gaping jaw. Clare grimaced but kept moving, beating the pot down again and again until the reverberations left her arms numb and the pot’s base was dented so badly, it would never cook again. The grasping hands dropped away, limp. Clare didn’t stop until she saw the grey of brains across the tiles, then she lurched backwards, breathing heavily. Unathi staggered back to rest against the nearest bench, dropping the bat to the floor with a clatter. The room was silent.

  Johann’s voice, tight with fear, came from the storage room. “Unathi? Clare?”

  “We’re fine,” Clare called. Shaking out her arms, she crossed to the door and unlocked it to let Johann out. He stumbled into the kitchen’s light, blanched white. A quick glance took in the hollow’s crushed head, then he turned his eyes towards the ceiling, lips pressed tightly together.

  Clare paused in the storage room’s doorway. Bags of flour had been carried up to the door. She shook her head. “That was the leader. The smart one.”

  “It talked.” Unathi swiped her hand across her forehead, unable to take her eyes away from the fallen monster.

  “Badly, but yeah. The smart ones sometimes remember how.” Clare indicated the bags of flour. “When it realised the ship was being filled with carbon dioxide, it hid in the storage room and used those to make it airtight. It probably planned to stay hidden until we let our guard down. I should have been more careful.”

  Johann made a faint choking noise, still keeping his eyes averted from the broken skull. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m ready to get back to the surgery.”

  “Yeah.” Clare crossed to the sink, turned off the tap, and lifted the pitcher of water. “Someone get cups and some food. Don’t forget the chocolate.”

  The walk back to the surgery doors was completely silent. Johann carried armfuls of supplies, including blankets from the nearest recreational room and towels from a bathroom, as well as Clare’s hatchet. She carried the pitchers of water. As the adrenaline faded, she felt the cut in her shoulder more acutely. It was like a line of fire running through her skin and into her muscles. She bit her tongue. The thanites would deal with the cut. She just wished they would deal with the pain as well.

  Unathi typed the code into the keypad to open the surgery’s door. The murmur of conversation inside the room fell silent as the doors opened. Dorran’s expression relaxed as he saw Clare, and a smile rose across his features. “Everything all right?”

  “Yeah,” she said, as he took the pitchers from her. “They’re all dead. We found the leader—the smart one—hiding in the storage room, but it’s dealt with now too.”

  “It cut her,” Unathi added.

  Clare grimaced. Traitor.

  The relaxation fled Dorran’s features. He moved around her, fingertips brushing across her arms and back until he found the gash on her shoulder. A hiss escaped clenched teeth. “Does it hurt?”

  “Not bad.”

  “Come here. I’ll dress it.” He pulled up the seat from beside the surgery’s bed, settled Clare into it, then began digging through open drawers. “I should have come with you.”

  “We did all right,” Clare said. “And at least now it’s dealt with, and we won’t have it killing us in our sleep. So that’s good.”

  A raspy laugh drew her attention to the bed. Niall was awake. Clare lurched forward, a smile growing. “Hey. How are you feeling?”

  “Grateful to be alive.” His skin still looked ashen and sunken around his eyes, but Clare was encouraged to see some life returned to his features. His smile faded as his gaze moved towards his legs. They were covered by blankets, but Clare remembered what they looked like underneath.

  “Those will heal,” Dorran said to Niall as he pushed the chair back behind Clare and nudged her to sit down. He used surgical scissors to cut the top’s shoulder so that he could access the skin underneath. Clare fought the impulse to flinch as a swab touched the broken skin.

  “I’m really sorry,” Niall said. His smile vanished entirely as his eyebrows pulled low. “I opened the doors. That was so stupid. So… so stupid.”

  “Don’t feel that way,” Clare said. “We were all under pressure, and just trying to do the best we could in an ugly situation. You were trying to save West. I can’t blame you for that.”

  “West is dead, isn’t he?”

  Clare’s stomach turned. Niall’s voice had dropped to a whisper. He watched her, pleading. “No one will tell me, but he’s dead, isn’t he?”

  The room was silent. Clare didn’t want to have to be responsible for delivering the news. He was in so much pain already. It seemed cruel to add to it.

  Unathi spoke instead, her voice soft but dispassionate. “Yes. West is dead.”

  “Okay.” Niall turned away from Clare. He’d already guessed as much, but the confirmation seemed to steal some of the life from him.

  Johann swiped the back of his hand across his eyes then snatched up the block of chocolate from the table. “Hey, hey, look what I found for you. You like this sugar garbage, right?”

  Niall stared towards the ceiling, eyes shining, lips pressed together as he tried not to let any emotions out.

  “Don’t tell me you’re not hungry.” Johann’s fingers shook as they fought to unravel the foil. “I fought an actual monster to get this for you. Come on. Just a piece.”

  “I messed up so bad,” Niall said.

  “We all did.” Johann choked on his laughter. “You weren’t even outside with him. I thought he was behind me. I guess he was, until he wasn’t. But… but the rest of us are alive. And that’s more than I expected.”

  “The whole thing was
a mess,” Unathi added. She glanced at Clare then looked aside. “When we heard the broadcasts explaining what had happened outside, and when we realised we were isolated against a swarm of something that was no longer human, I instigated drills.”

  Johann chuckled. “Yeah. What to do if one of them got inside. I would have my gun. We would all proceed to a safe room in an orderly fashion…”

  “And they did us absolutely no good,” Unathi finished. Her smile was wry. “Not one iota. I fell apart almost immediately. Johann wouldn’t listen to my instructions. West was gone. Then everything was out of control…”

  “You’re still alive,” Clare said. Focus on what’s important. Don’t fall into melancholy. “And as of this morning, the ship is secure again.”

  “Yeah. Could be a hell of a lot worse.” Johann broke off a piece of chocolate and waved it in front of Niall’s head. “C’mon. Have a bit. It’ll make me happy.”

  Niall hesitated then opened his mouth to accept the chocolate. He frowned as he chewed it. “Did you really fight a hollow just to get this?”

  “Hell yeah, buddy. Can’t leave you to suffer without your sweet fix.”

  Chapter Fifty

  Dorran finished washing, stitching, and bandaging the cut on Clare’s shoulder. Unathi found her some painkillers. As she tipped two tablets out of the bottle, she said, “We could get you something stronger, if you think you need it. Opiates.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be fine with this.” Better to save them for Niall. He’d managed four pieces of chocolate and a glass of water before lapsing back into unconsciousness.

  The rest of them shared the food and the water Clare’s team had brought back, and then they took turns washing their faces and arms in the sink in the back wall. Clare longed for a proper shower, but she was sticking to her principles: they couldn’t separate until they were certain the ship held no more surprises. She pictured fighting a hollow one in a shower cubicle while she was slippery with water and soap, and the mental image was so horrible and hilarious that she broke out into laughter.