The bottom of the cellar door clattered and banged. “And be quick,” Brad shouted.
The bare bulb at the top of the stairs illuminated the stairway. Jack felt nervous as he climbed; couldn’t help wondering what had happened to Graham, and although he had reservations, he was glad that Jen had accompanied him.
“This is turning into one crazy night,” Jen said.
“Yeah, I’ve had better,” Jack replied.
“I’m trying not to think about it. I still can’t believe what my grandmother’s done though. I keep thinking this is just a nightmare; that I’ll wake up soon.”
“You and me both.”
“Do you think the police are going to come?”
“I think we’ll need more than the police to put a stop to this.” Jack turned and hurried up the stairs to a short corridor. At the top, four doors led off, two of which he would have to double back to check. The first door opened onto a sparsely furnished sitting room. Light from the landing illuminated a settee, a small bookcase, a coffee table on which lay a men’s magazine opened at the centre spread and a footstool. The next door led to a small kitchen, where he found the cat drinking milk from its bowl. It looked up and regarded Jack, then resumed lapping its milk as though he wasn’t worth bothering about. Dirty bowls, plates and cutlery were stacked up in the sink and over the draining board. The tap dripped. Jack wondered who would come and clean up when this was all over. Wondered who would look after the cat.
Exiting the room, he walked back along the corridor to investigate the other two doors, both of which were shut. He pushed open the first one he came to, but couldn’t see anything inside as the curtains were drawn and the light on the landing didn’t reach this far. He swept his hand across the wall until he found the light switch and flicked it on.
The first thing he saw was a face staring at him, and his heart did a somersault. He opened his mouth and let out a gasp, only to realise he was looking at his own reflection in a mirror on the wall.
“You okay?” Jen asked.
Jack nodded. “I may not be the best looking lad in the world, but it comes to something when my own reflection makes me jump.”
“You look pretty good to me.”
Jack entered the room to hide his embarrassment. A single bed occupied one wall, across from which a wardrobe held the promise of clothes. Jack strode across and opened it. He thought it felt macabre rifling through the jackets and shirts of someone probably now food for the monsters but he put his feelings aside as he selected things which would burn well, and which would continue to burn, such as a stack of polyester shirts.
“Here, take these,” he said, passing an armful to Jen.
He grabbed a couple of pairs of polyester pants. “That should be enough. Come on, they’re waiting for us.”
Jack ran down the stairs and back into the bar. Brad and his dad were holding the door shut.
“Hurry up, kid,” Brad said.
Rocky, Sara and Erin were stamping on chairs to snap the legs off. Jack and Jen dropped the pile of clothes next to them, then helped wrap each item tightly around the jagged end of each leg.
“We’ll need some alcohol from behind the bar to soak them in,” Erin said. “Rocky, help Jack pick bottles with the most alcohol as that will burn better. Look for liqueurs and rum with high alcohol content.”
Jack looked at Rocky, wondering whether there was still going to be any animosity between them. Rocky stared back, nodded, then proceeded to the bar where he started removing bottles of alcohol from the racks on the wall.
Jack joined him, and said, “I know you don’t like me, but thanks. You know, for helping us when we were stuck on the rocks.”
Rocky looked at him. “Least I could do in the circumstances.”
“Me and Jen, we’re … well …”
“I know.” He leaned closer. “Tell you the truth, I never liked her that much. Don’t tell her, though. Don’t want her to get all upset and the like. Now you see Sara though, she’s a fox.”
Jack looked at Sara and smiled.
When they had enough bottles, Jack and Rocky carried them back to Erin and she started dousing the makeshift torches in alcohol. The pungent aroma of the spirits soon filled the air, and Jack wondered if you could get drunk from the fumes.
“Okay, we’re all set,” Erin said. She passed the torches around. “I don’t know how long they’ll last, so use one at a time. Now who’s got a light?”
“I’ve got one,” Jack said.
Zander nodded. “And me.”
“Those who haven’t got one, grab some of the boxes of matches from behind the bar,” she said.
She placed Brad’s and Bruce’s torches on the bar. Bruce turned to Brad. “You ready?”
The engineer nodded. “As I ever will be.”
Erin lit a match and ignited one of her torches. Acrid black smoke spiralled towards the ceiling as people stepped forwards to light their own torch from Erin’s. Finally, Jack lit his dad’s and Brad’s. Then he held them out, and they jumped away from the door, grabbed the torches and moved clear.
A series of bangs rattled the cellar door in its frame. It wasn’t going to hold much longer. The heat from the torch warmed Jack’s cheeks. He looked at his dad; felt more for him at that moment than he ever had.
“Let’s get out of here,” Bruce said. He hurried towards the front door, slid back the bolts, opened the door, brandished his torch before him, and then stepped outside.
Chapter 41
Bruce gingerly surveyed the street. The harbour lights threw a sheen of illumination across the surface of the water, making it appear almost picturesque. Shazam’s ears went up and her hackles rose. She bared her teeth, growled.
“Come here. Heel,” Bruce said.
The sound of skittering claws scraping across the ground reached his ears. He turned, looked down the street and saw a number of Fangtooth heading their way. Some ran on all fours, others moved upright. However they moved, they all looked menacing. Lamplight reflected from their teeth, made them appear even longer and sharper.
He counted at least six creatures, but God knew how many others lurked in the shadows.
The torch in his hand flickered, creating misshapen shadows that danced across the walls and the ground.
“Form a circle,” Bruce said.
He felt people gather at his side and back. “Right, we need to move as a unit.”
“Move where?” Zander asked.
“We need to get out of the village. My car’s parked over there and I can get five in with a squeeze. Who else has got a car?”
“And what about everyone else in the village?” Zander asked. “We can’t just leave them.”
“The police will be here soon.”
He noticed the entrance to the cellar door lying open. “What’s with the torches?”
Bruce looked across to see the old man that had spoken to him before. Still dressed in his pyjamas, he leaned against his front door and looked out. An old woman peered over his shoulder.
“Albert, what’s going on?” she asked.
“That’s what I’m trying to find out, Doris. You get inside; let me deal with it.”
“You get the fuck inside too,” Zander roared. Albert’s expression changed, became indignant. “There’s something dangerous out here,” Zander said.
“Is that you, Zander?” Albert asked. “What’s going on?”
“For God’s sake, man, get the fuck inside and lock your door.”
Albert stepped out into the street. “I don’t know what the meani—”
The word caught in his throat as a Fangtooth scurried from around the side of the house. It looked at Bruce and the torches, hissed, turned and saw Albert.
The old man stood frozen to the spot, his jaw hanging open. He babbled something unintelligible, raised his hands in a feeble attempt to ward the creature off, then screamed as the Fangtooth sank its teeth into his hand, severing it at the wrist. A plume of blood jettisoned fro
m the severed limb, spraying the ground with abstract gore.
“Shit,” Zander said. He broke free from the others and ran towards the creature, furiously waving his torch.
Bruce sensed the unease in the rest of the group. Next minute, Jim broke free. He dropped his torch and pulled out his knife.
“You don’t think I’m gonna let you take all the spoils, Skipper,” he said as he danced across the road.
Brad shook his head. “The damn fool.” He ran after Jim.
Bruce grimaced. They needed to stick together. Safety in numbers.
He watched as Zander parried and thrust with the torch. Bits of burning cloth and sparks fell to the ground. The Fangtooth scuttled back, chomping Albert’s hand as it moved. The firelight appeared to dance in its eyes.
“Albert,” Doris screamed as she ran out of the house. Blood sprayed over her nightgown as she reached her husband’s side. Without hesitating, she started to drag him back towards the house.
By now, the other Fangtooth had reached the group. Bruce and his companions warded them off with the torches. The Fangtooth circled around, snapping at the air with their teeth.
Alerted by the commotion, other people ventured outside. Then the screaming really started.
Bruce saw a small, middle-aged woman open her door to find a Fangtooth on her porch. The creature moved with almost fluid grace, taking a chunk out of her waist with one bite. In a strangely silent manner, the woman grabbed her wound and a length of intestine slopped over the top of her hands to hang down her side. She staggered back, stumbled, and another creature leaped upon her prone body and buried its head in her stomach. Bruce heard its jaw chomping, and he turned away, sickened by the sight.
A young blond-haired boy ran into the street. His mother called him back, but it was too late. A Fangtooth pounced, raking the boy’s back with its claws and tearing out ribbons of flesh. The boy screamed and fell to his knees, the creature on his back. The boy’s mother, heedless of her own safety, ran out and started hitting the creature with her bare hands. Loud sobs burst from her mouth. Another creature loped across, sank its teeth into the woman’s leg, severing her ankle. She collapsed to the ground, still trying to wrestle the creature from her son.
Bruce didn’t know how much more he could take. He wanted to shut his eyes to blank out the horror, but he couldn’t. He had to stay alert.
Terrified faces peered out of windows. Gunshots rang out as some of the villagers took the initiative.
The creatures were in a feeding frenzy. Blood shone from their heads, dripped from their teeth, between which lay strands of human flesh. They attacked indiscriminately, old or young, male or female, it didn’t matter.
Jim jumped onto one of the Fangtooth, riding it like a cowboy. Brad joined in, jabbing at it with his torch. A spine along the Fangtooth’s back pierced Jim’s leg, but he seemed unconcerned. He stabbed it with his knife, raking the blade across the creature’s eyes. The creature roared in pain, which brought a grim smile to Jim’s lips.
Bruce’s torch burned low and he lit his other one from the embers. It wouldn’t last long, and he wondered what he would do when it burnt out. “We need to move faster,” Bruce said.
“We can’t leave them,” Erin cried.
“We’ll come back for them in the car, but we’ve got to move, now.” Four Fangtooth blocked their path. One of them chewed on a man’s carcass, tearing chunks of meat out. Bruce never would have thought human skin could stretch so far. With each bite, the creature shook its head to snap the tenuous strands connecting the flesh to the body.
The Fangtooth reminded him of a cross between sharks and crocodiles, both true carnivores with a penchant for raw meat.
Two of the creatures moved to intercept the group. The nearest Fangtooth lunged for them. Bruce dodged aside, lost his momentum and almost tripped. Shazam growled and snapped her teeth at the creature’s legs, distracting the Fangtooth from her master and allowing him to regain his balance. The Fangtooth dropped down to Shazam’s level, cocked its head and lunged for Shazam’s throat. Bruce felt his heart stop and his stomach sink. A lump blocked his throat, making breathing difficult.
Shazam jumped out of the way, and the Fangtooth’s teeth snapped on empty air. Bruce squeezed out a thankful breath.
Another Fangtooth scuttled across. Shazam ran to intercept it; her agile body and faster legs helping her avoid the creature’s attack. Bruce shoved the torch towards the creature’s face, causing it to rear back, and allowing him to skip past. Although only twenty feet away, the car may as well have been on another continent.
The Fangtooth feasting on the carcass looked up. Blood dripped from its face, giving it a menacing sheen. It opened its mouth, revealing half-chewed organs. Bruce cringed, his stomach curdling at the sight.
He waved the torch, and remnants of burning cloth fell off to lie smouldering on the ground.
The Fangtooth advanced on all fours, one step at a time. The other Fangtooth stood before the car, as though it knew his destination.
As the bloodied Fangtooth moved in for the kill, it rose up on two legs and opened its mouth to roar. Bruce didn’t hesitate as he thrust the burning chair leg down its throat, searing flesh. The creature moved back. Bruce let go of the torch, leaving it jutting from the creature’s mouth. Smoke from scorched flesh drifted out of its mouth, making it look even more hellish.
Bruce’s companions waved their torches and shouted menacingly to try to drive the creatures away.
The Fangtooth guarding the car twisted its head to look at its wounded companion. With no distinction of where its next meal came from, and seeing an easy target, it moved in and started to bite the wounded creature. With the stick jutting from its throat, the stricken creature couldn’t defend itself and it fell to the ground, the other creature moving to stand above it before driving its teeth into the other Fangtooth’s body.
“I’m going to make a run for the car,” Bruce shouted. He extracted the keys from his pocket; pressed the key fob button to unlock the car, ran across, yanked the door open and tumbled inside. Shazam bounded across and jumped over him to sit in the passenger seat. Bruce shoved the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine started up; it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. Grinning to himself, he looked across to his companions, only to see another group of Fangtooth had arrived and cut them off.
Chapter 42
Bruce saw Erin and the group sweeping their flaming torches around to ward off the creatures surrounding them. Zander and his crew had disappeared. Bruce put the car in gear, pressed his foot down on the accelerator and sped along the road. When he drew close to the nearest creature, he switched the headlights on and pressed the pedal to the floor.
The Fangtooth swivelled and stared at the approaching vehicle, but it reacted too slowly. The car struck it with a sickening crunch; sent it bouncing along the road, rolling end over end. Without easing off the accelerator, Bruce headed towards the next Fangtooth. The car stuck it, the front wheel rolling over its body and momentarily leaving the road as it careered over the carcass. Bruce thought he heard something snap.
Shazam barked in his ear.
The group cheered, waving their almost burnt out torches in the air. The remaining Fangtooth scattered, looking for easier prey.
Bruce stopped the car. He glanced in the rear-view mirror, saw movement against the harbour wall and twisted his head to see Duncan. He glared at Bruce, his lips mashed together in a tight grimace. A knife glinted in his hand. Bruce revved the engine, slipped it into reverse, eased off the clutch, spun the car around and steered a course towards Duncan.
Seeing the car heading towards him, Duncan stood up and started to run. The group was busy focusing on the remaining Fangtooth and they failed to spot him until it was too late. He flew into the group, knocking Jack and Sara aside before grabbing Erin. He sliced the knife across the back of her hand, forcing her to drop her weapon, then placed the knife to her throat.
Bruce slamme
d on the brakes. Erin stared back at him, her face contorted by fear that made him feel physically sick.
Bruce jumped out of the car. He heard sirens in the distance; saw flashes of red and blue lights on the track leading down to the village.
“Duncan, it’s over. Let her go.”
Duncan laughed. “It’s never going to be over.”
“The police are here. Don’t make things worse for yourself than they already are.”
“I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what to do.”
Over ten feet separated them, ten feet that Bruce couldn’t cross in time. He caught sight of movement out of the corner of his eye, a flash of white creeping through the shadows beside the harbour wall: Shazam.
“Look, what good is holding Erin hostage going to do?”
“Who said anything about holding a hostage?” Duncan turned, keeping a tight grip on Erin.
Bruce saw a thin line of blood at Erin’s throat. Saw the fear in her expression.
Shazam was less than eight feet from Duncan. She crawled along the ground, a canine predator.
“Now it’s up to you girl,” Bruce whispered. As though sensing what to do, Shazam slinked closer, closing the gap. Once close enough, she jumped up and started barking.
Taken by surprise, Duncan spun around, the knife coming away from Erin’s throat enough for her to lever her arm underneath his to hold the knife away. Bruce didn’t hesitate. He charged, slamming into Duncan’s side, knocking him and Erin over.
Momentum carried Bruce further and he rolled painfully across the ground. Behind him, Shazam grabbed the bottom of Duncan’s trousers between her teeth and tugged at the shopkeeper’s leg. A low growl emanated from the back of her throat.
Duncan slashed out with the knife. Bruce clambered to his feet, but he was too slow. The blade cut Shazam across the back, opening up a pink stripe in her black and white fur. The dog let go of Duncan’s leg and yelped.
Erin scuttled backwards. Duncan jumped up and bent to grab hold of her again.
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