The man spasmed violently enough to shake off her grip on him.
“Christ,” she yelped, jerking backwards out of the van.
The supposed corpse jerked again, then coughed. It was a rough, dog-like sound. Lisa stared in astonishment at him. Surely there had not been a pulse when she’d felt for one. She had been a nurse too long to make such a fundamental mistake. But how else to explain it? Whatever, relief flooded through her. Some of the pressure was off. Instead of having to revive a dead man she now had to care for a sick man, albeit a chronically sick one. She remembered the reek of fumes when she had first opened up the van; nobody breathed in that much carbon monoxide without suffering. The best thing she could do now was get him out into the open, breathing fresh air. She’d stay with him and send Alison for help.
Alison.
Her sister looked terrible, her face crumpled and ready to cry. No wonder. She too must have thought that the man was dead. She worked in an office, not a hospital. Being this close to a corpse must have really freaked her out. There was nothing Lisa could do to help her to get over that right now, except find a way of distracting her. “Hey, Alison,” she called. “He’s going to be all right. But I need you to help me get him out of the van, okay?”
At first she thought that her words had gone unnoticed. Then Alison blinked and nodded. Lisa watched her anxiously in the mirror. On second thoughts maybe it would be better if she sent her into the village to phone for an ambulance now, before she caught sight of the barely conscious man. He was still coughing, more muted this time but with saliva spilling from his mouth and running in an oily trail down his chin. It would be kinder to spare Alison any further trauma. Lisa looked up again at the mirror, dismayed to see she hadn’t moved. “Come on” she shouted, trying to sound jaunty as she noticed the deepening shadows. “It’s getting late.”
A flicker of motion caught her attention. Something was moving very quickly through the dark spaces between the trees, behind and to the left of her sister. She peered at it, trying to discern what it was. As she did, there was another blur of movement, this time to Alison’s right. Then another. And another. In seconds the entire area surrounding the Transit was a tornado of shifting, shadowy figures that grew with astonishing speed. No, Lisa realised, suddenly afraid. Not growing.Whatever was casting those the shadows was moving swiftly closer.
“Alison, get in the van.” She had intended to call out but her dry mouth had drained the power of her voice so that the words emerged as no more than a whisper. Lisa could not move, could not breathe, could not tear her eyes from the mirror. She felt as though a hand had reached inside her and given her guts a sharp twist.
Outside, a fierce wind blew up out of nowhere, ferocious enough to send the trees swaying alarmingly and to rock the van on its protesting springs. “Alison!” Lisa bellowed. Her sister, who had seemed oblivious to what was going on around her, jerked into life at that, and she lifted one hand to cup her ear. In the time it took Lisa to open her mouth ready to shout another warning, the swarm of shadows coalesced into a nightmarish impression of a face. As impossible as it was Lisa found herself staring into two depressions that resembled eyes, below which a black hole like a hungry mouth suddenly yawned open. Then the swarm surged forward. Alison, who must have been aware that something was wrong, turned just in time to see the seething darkness bearing down. Before she could move or cry out, the wave swept over her, picking her up like a toy and throwing her with unimaginable force against the van. Her body twisted in the split-second before impact. Lisa howled in grief and helpless rage at the sight of her sister’s face jetting blood when it was slammed against the van before being flung to one side, out of sight.
The sun was suddenly snuffed out and the world was plunged into night. Lisa screamed and jumped into the Transit. Above the roar of the wind she could hear a violent creak-creak-creak, and felt a stab of pure terror when her eyes tracked the source of the noise; the door, open and swinging so crazily that it looked as if it was about to be torn off its hinges, leaving her exposed to whatever was out there. Instinctive self-preservation took control and, without pausing to think, she lunged for the handle, gripping it tightly, swearing in frustration when the force of the gale ripped it from her hand.
She reached for it again, this time managing to hold on, if only just. She felt like a child trying to hang on to the lead of a monstrous dog. One of her fingernails was ripped off but she barely felt the pain. It seemed to have been buried in the same distant place as the anguish she felt for Alison. Even as she battled to pull the door shut she knew that she would have to face up to, and deal with, the feelings that shock and fright had forced her to suppress, just as soon as this nightmare had ended.
If it ever ends, she could not help thinking.
The wind suddenly changed tack, slamming the door shut. Lisa pulled her hand clear just in time. A second later and her fingers would have been crushed. The van rocked with such relentless ferocity that for one horrendous moment she was sure it was about to topple over. Something like hail rattled deafeningly against the metal sides and roof. She stared wide-eyed through the windscreen, ready to throw herself across the seat if it caved in. A boiling dark cloud pressed up against the glass, too close to tell if it still resembled a face. It appeared to be made of madly swirling dirt and leaves. White fragments like small bones bounced off the windscreen.
Lisa knew she had to get out of there, but fear had forced her muscles to lock. Whatever had swept up her sister, hurling her against the van as though she had no more substance than paper, would surely strike against her just as swiftly if she ventured outside. There was nothing to do but sit tight and pray that the storm would soon pass. She closed her eyes and clenched her fists, whispering a plea for help to a god she had hated since the crash that took David, knowing it was hypocritical but not caring. The screeching of the wind and the incessant scraping of branches against the bodywork meant she could barely hear her own words. That hardly mattered; it was the sense of them that counted, that and the unexpected comfort they brought. Lisa shifted in the seat and her right knee struck the steering column. Something rattled metallically. She reached out a hand, wincing at the pain as the raw skin beneath her missing nail brushed against cold metal. Her fingers closed on the keys and she almost cried out with relief.
She shoved the unconscious man further across the seat, until she could put her own legs under the wheel to get at the pedals. Then she twisted the keys. The engine turned over once, twice, before roaring into life. Without hesitation, Lisa hit the clutch, slammed the gear stick into first and floored the accelerator. The van lunged forward, immediately jerking to a halt so abrupt the force of it almost catapulted her face-first into the wheel. Handbrake, stupid, that voice in her head mocked.
Lisa reached down and released the brake lever. The click of it disengaging seemed to trigger an even more violent assault on the Transit, if that were possible. A branch smacked into the side window to her right, making her yelp with shock and leaving a hair-thin line in the glass. She had the craziest notion that the storm knew she was close to getting away. The sound was immense, howling like something demented, filling her head so that she couldn’t think straight.
Another jarring thump on the side window, followed by an ominous fracturing sound, spurred her into action. She turned the keys again. The van obliged by starting up at once. This time she was careful when she drove off, or at least as careful as she could be for someone who had never been so scared in her life.
An image of Alison lying crumpled and twisted at the side of the track popped into her head. Her eyes blurred with tears and she quickly wiped them away, at the same time banishing the picture from her mind. There was nothing she wanted more than to stop, go back and find her sister. Find her alive. But common sense prevailed. Lisa was certain that if she didn’t make a run for it now, she never would. There was nothing she could do for Alison
other than to get out in one piece and find help.
The van pitched from side to side along the rough track, throwing Lisa around in her seat as she battled to stay in control. It was like being in a small boat on a wild sea. Branches lunged out of the darkness, striking the Transit with resounding force as it passed, as though trying to beat it into submission. At least she was moving now, leaving the storm behind. But the sentiment rang false. She had no idea what she was fleeing, but she was now convinced it wasn’t a storm. No ordinary storm, at any rate.
So what was it? Lisa shook her head, feeling as though she were teetering on the edge of an abyss into which she did not dare to look, let alone fall. The world may have gone crazy but she had to stay sane, for Alison’s sake if not her own. Rational or otherwise, the explanations could wait. For now, survival was all that mattered. She hardly care less that she was behind a steering wheel, driving for Christ’s sake, for the first time since the crash that had taken David’s life and damn nearly took hers too.
Weak light filled the van as the darkness lifted. Then a leafy branch fell onto the windscreen, blocking her view. Lisa swore loudly and wound down the window. At once a shrieking wind reached in and grabbed her hair, yanking it across her face. She held on to the wheel with one hand, and reached out to grab hold of the branch, tugging at it until it shifted and fell. The view through the glass cleared in time for her to see a huge tree suddenly fill the view from the windscreen. She clamped both hands on the wheel, twisting it madly. The Transit jolted sharply to the left, but not quickly enough to prevent its offside from clipping the edge of the tree. Lisa was thrown forward in the seat, biting her tongue and crying out at the sudden pain. A coppery taste filled her mouth. Her entire body trembled and her legs went suddenly weak. The blur of vegetation around the van began to slow and it took several confused moments for her to realise that her foot had eased off the accelerator. She stamped down on the pedal and the van lunged forward again. Lisa had no idea where the track would lead her; until today she had not even been aware of its existence. But wherever it went would be away from the storm, and that was good enough for her.
Movement in the corner of her eye made her glance at the rear-view mirror. For one brief moment she thought that it might be Alison. Then she saw that the darkness was swallowing the woods behind her. Her stomach lurched. Tornado. The word flashed in her mind as she struggled to keep the van on the track and panic at bay. It was the only explanation she could come up with. The storm had not only blown up out of nowhere but it was actually moving. It had to be a tornado, as rare as they were in Britain. Clutching at straws, maybe, but how else to explain it? That the storm was alive and giving chase? It was a ridiculous idea. Yet to Lisa it also felt right.
Whatever was out there, it was no tornado.
It occurred to her at that moment that she was quite probably going to die. Lisa was surprised to find that she was not afraid. An unexpected calm crept over her even as the storm descended on the van with all its ferocious anger. It struck with such force that it almost wrenched the steering wheel out of her grasp. The Transit lurched dangerously towards the trees before she managed to regain control. Calm or not, she simply would not give in without a fight. If this was her time, then so be it.
But she was damned if she would go gently.
She cranked up the speed, peering into the half-light as the van raced along the track, branches parting like heavy curtains as the Transit ploughed through them. By some miracle she avoided another collision. Probably because, she now realised, the trees were thinning out. Hope flared when she saw that the light was growing brighter.
Suddenly she burst into open country, to see a tall hedge directly in front of her. Lisa yelled and spun the wheel, hitting the brake at the same time. The tyres screeched in protest and the van juddered so violently it felt as though it were trying to shake itself to pieces as it turned. It was a close call but she made it. The hedge spun away to the right as though in slow motion. Ahead of her was a narrow road. Lisa had no idea where it led and right then she didn’t care. She was simply thankful to be out of the woods. For now it seemed she had managed to outpace the storm, maybe even left it behind for good. Not that she had any intention of waiting to find out. Her first priority now was to try to find her way back home so she could summon help. If she passed a telephone box on the way, so much the better. The quicker she raised the alarm the better off her sister would be.
If she’s still alive. You saw the blood -
“No!” Lisa shook her head violently. She refused to entertain that thought. Alison was alive. Hurt, maybe badly, but alive all the same. Lisa had to believe that, or there was no point going on. Might just as well lie back with her eyes closed, wait for the storm to catch up and finish her off. Finish them off, she quickly corrected herself when she heard the man groan deeply beside her. Her mind had been so focused on driving the van that she’d almost forgotten he was there. She looked down at him. By now the sky had darkened but even so she could see he did not appear as bad as she’d feared. His skin was nowhere near as pale as she remembered. In fact, she thought as she glanced in the mirror and saw the pastiness of her own reflected face, he looked a damn sight better than she did. She reached across and pressed her fingers to his neck. The pulse was strong. Lisa could only assume that he must have been in the very early stages of carbon monoxide poisoning when they’d found him. But he was still in need of medical help.
She felt cool air on her face and realised she hadn’t had chance to wind the window back up. The breeze was a mere whisper compared with the storm that had lashed the van in the woods, but it served as a warning that she could not afford to sit there speculating. She had to get going right then. There was no way of telling if the road would take her back towards Holtford or away from it. Given that she had a fifty-fifty chance of being right, Lisa drove the Transit in the direction it was already facing, trusting in luck. She fiddled around with switches until she found the lights. It was not yet quite dark but it was close enough, and this area was entirely unfamiliar. Her eyes flicked between the road ahead and the road behind in the mirror.
Just in case.
She drove as fast as she dared. Between the tall hedge and the twists and turns in the narrow road, it was impossible for her to see if any other vehicle was heading their way. The headlamps created a cone of light ahead of the van; beyond its reach was an ocean of shadow. Lisa shivered. The rush of cold air through the open window made her feel exposed, vulnerable. She quickly wound it up. It was hard to shake off the feeling that something was about to reach in for her.
She risked taking her eyes off the road for a glance to the side, needing to know there was nothing threatening nearby. All she could see was the hedge, a wall of vegetation that the fading light and the speed of the van reduced to a dark blur. Satisfied, Lisa was about to devote her attention to the road again when the hedge thinned out and she glimpsed a small figure moving rapidly in the field beyond. It appeared to be a dog, or a fox perhaps, loping along as though keeping pace with the van. Whatever it was, it was thin, almost emaciated. In the dusk it looked as grey as old bone and Lisa swore she could see through its ribs. The hedge thickened again, masking the scene before her eyes could properly focus on it.
As the minutes passed and the road went on and on, she could not prevent herself sneaking frequent glances towards the hedge, peering into the solid mass of it, hoping it would thin out again but dreading what she might see if it did.
The headlights picked out a sign on the left of the road, indicating a T-junction ahead. Lisa slowed the van as she approached it, praying there would be another sign, this one showing the way to Holtford, but there was nothing. Maybe there had been, once. If so, she could only suppose that the council spent all its maintenance budget on the main tourist routes. At least this road was wide enough to accommodate two lanes of traffic. On impulse, Lisa took a right and accelerated
swiftly, confident it was safe to put her foot down now. She felt so wound up by her inability to help her sister that she was ready to scream. Frustratingly she did not spot a single telephone box. Had she passed a house close enough to the road to be seen she would have stopped and asked if she could call the police from there. If only she hadn’t left her damned mobile in the cottage. Then again, she’d had no idea she would need it.
Finally, after what seemed like hours but was no doubt a matter of minutes, she saw the snaking glow of distant road lights. Soon she was braking as a junction loomed ahead. Before she reached it she noticed another sign. Lisa slowed the Transit to a crawl as she approached, hoping this sign would be more informative than the last. Her luck was in, though it was with a feeling of shocked surprise that she realised how far from home she had travelled. Dorchester lay eight miles away to her right; Holtford was another three after that. Just three miles along the road to the left was the Royal Dorchester. Lisa hesitated for a matter of seconds before swinging the van left.
It made sense. No point driving back to the village when in a fraction of the time she could get to the hospital, where she could offload the would-be suicide and call the police too. Lisa accelerated, still not quite believing that she was behind the wheel for the first time in two years. Right then her only concern was to get to the hospital. It would be a place of safety. Nothing could touch her there.
Within minutes a mournful wailing filled the night as the hospital came into sight; an ambulance raced along the road towards her, then turned sharply into the hospital drive. In the distance she heard more sirens. Maybe that tornado had gone on to do even more damage.
King of All the Dead Page 2