by Tim Lebbon
Every step brought another gentle crunch, and it was not long before Huw held up his hand and called a halt. He scanned around them for vesps; he could see a few pale shapes on distant mounds that might have been gatherings of fallen leaves, or might have been something else. More creatures continued to fly past. Some of them curved across the hillside and circled back again, describing seemingly random patterns solo or in small groups. He’d seen a few taking birds from the sky, zeroing in on birdsong and seemingly ripping them apart in mid-air, a brief meal to fuel their onward journey. Others seemed determined to reach another destination. These flew faster, generally erring between north and west, and he wondered how they knew to keep going in that direction. Their spreading towards areas as yet untouched seemed intentional, and that could only happen if they communicated in some way.
But understanding them, musing upon their physiologies and habits and instincts, could come later. Now his priority was survival.
“We’re making too much noise,” he signed. We’re also walking too close together, he thought. But there was no way he could suggest putting distance between them. Closeness brought comfort, and that was a feeling in scant supply.
“We can’t go back,” Ally insisted. “We’ll just have to move slowly.”
Dusk was settling. The sun had already dipped into the westward hills, settling its deep winter colours across the landscape and allowing shadows their space. Darkness grew and smothered the sky, and the air was becoming heavier by the moment. Very soon he knew that they’d have to face the prospect of spending the night out here. In the open, the dark, the cold, when movement in any direction could give them away. Nothing to keep them warm. Very little to eat or drink. Even the tins of food might make a noise if they tried to open them.
Panic circled, and Huw felt the situation running away from him. Since letting the Jeep roll downhill and torching Glenn’s car, he’d been trying to place himself in control. In truth, that had never happened. He’d been floundering since the moment Glenn died, and now he was close to drowning.
“Look!” Jude whispered. It was too loud, too sudden, and Huw caught his breath and crouched, looking around for a pale flash. But there was nothing. And after a few panicked heartbeats, he looked in the direction Jude was pointing.
His son had his other hand pressed over his mouth, eyes wide. But he might just have saved them.
Beyond a low ridge to the north-west, where the hillside sloped down towards the wide valley, rose a faint haze of smoke. The breeze caught it above the hill and smeared it across the sky, but lower down it was a slightly leaning, pale tower.
That looks normal, Huw thought, and he was convinced it was from a chimney as opposed to a vehicle or building fire. Intentional, not disastrous. He wasn’t sure how he knew—perhaps it was simply that he needed it to be so—but he stuck with that feeling.
He waved so that everyone was looking at him, then signed, “Let’s go.”
They skirted a mound of boulders tumbled from the hillside aeons ago, doing their best to step carefully. As they passed the rocks Huw saw several vesps sitting on top of the largest, mouths pointing upwards and those strange tentacles splayed in the air behind them. Perhaps they were ears, or similar organs used to detect the slightest sound. The mad idea came to test that theory—he could lob a stone as far as possible and see how the things reacted. But stirring up prone vesps did not feel like a good idea.
Maybe soon, once they had settled into this silent new existence, he could start gathering more information. Because he was certain that the time would come to fight back.
They climbed a small hump on the lower hillside. At one point Ally froze, looking down at the ground just in front of her. Huw moved quickly, but whatever danger had been there was gone. A bloodied animal lay curled atop a fall of dead ferns, its black-and-white fur speckled red and torn. It still wore a collar, but Huw had no wish to know the cat’s name.
Ally blinked at him a few times, her face blank. She was remembering Otis.
When they reached the summit they looked down into the gentle valley beyond. There was a house down there, at the foot of the hill and surprisingly close. It was an attractive, large redbrick building with a double-vaulted roof and bay-fronted windows at front and back. The expansive garden was surrounded by a stone wall, with a parking area and outbuildings, a couple of them attractively dilapidated. One vehicle was parked there, a small car. A rutted lane disappeared around a spread of trees towards an unseen road nearby. Lights shone in several windows, doors were closed, and a curl of smoke rose from one of the two tall chimneys. Whoever was inside was doing nothing to conceal their presence.
“Let me go first,” Huw signed.
“I’m coming with you!” Kelly replied.
Huw shook his head.
“Huw’s right,” Lynne signed, and she stepped forward and repeated it so that they could all see. “Huw’s right. He has to see how things are before we all go down there. We don’t know who is in the house, or how they might react.”
Huw nodded, both pleased that she’d stuck up for him, and also suddenly afraid of going on his own. It made total sense but he also felt vulnerable.
Kelly held the shotgun out for him. At first he took it, surprised at the weight she’d been carrying for the last hour. But then he gave it back to her. He wanted to appear unthreatening to the house’s occupants, and if there was cause to fire a shotgun, he’d likely already be doomed.
He put his left arm around Kelly’s waist and brought her in close, not quite whispering in her ear but breathing there, and hearing her breath in turn. He smelled her familiar smell and took comfort from it. Then he softly kissed her neck and moved away.
“Wait here,” he signed. “Stay low and quiet, and if something bad happens, don’t move. Don’t come to help.”
Jude shook his head and turned away. Ally grabbed her brother’s arm and pulled him close, giving him a glare that said, Listen to Dad!
“I’ll be fine,” Huw said. “I’m only saying those things just… in case of an emergency. Like the emergency procedures when we flew to France last year. Remember?”
Jude nodded, still sulky but accepting.
Huw waved his arms left and right like an air steward, pleased when Jude smiled. He held up his hand, fingers splayed. Five minutes. Then he turned and started down the hillside.
He could smell the smoke from the house’s chimney and it was so inviting. He imagined sitting in front of that fire, warming his cold extremities, a mug of hot coffee in his hands, and the house’s owner bustling in the kitchen to prepare a meal for these sad visitors. The warmth of the interior lights was similarly calming, and as he drew closer he looked for signs of movement.
Yet the sight troubled him. Whoever lived there was making no effort to hide their presence. No one really knew whether the things would be drawn by smell, like the musky scent of wood smoke; or whether in darkness they might flock like moths to the subtle heat of any obvious light source. He could not believe that anyone didn’t know that the vesps were here. So as he walked carefully down a well-trodden path towards a gate in the garden wall, he had to consider the possibilities.
The owner was ignorant of the threat and might make a noise upon Huw’s arrival.
They might know what was happening but doubt the veracity of some of the reports. A stubborn streak could have kept the fire going and the lights on, defiance in the face of obscure dangers. That would also present particular dangers once Huw drew close enough for them to see him or, worse, call out to him.
Or perhaps they were already dead. Maybe a door or window hung open, and inside a body or bodies lay host to newly laid eggs. In that case he would find only vesps guarding the corpses, and he and his family would be forced to make a decision—attempt to clear the house of the creatures, or move on.
Huw reached the garden wall and paused. Closer, the house looked equally inviting yet even more out of place. He’d seen terrible things, and such norma
lity had no place in this new world.
He glanced back up the hillside. His family were crouched down watching him, just visible in the fading light. Kelly waved. They gave no sign that they’d seen anything dangerous.
Several vesps flew across the garden and swerved around the house, one of them even curving over the roof and flying through the column of smoke rising from the chimney. Its path seemed to flitter slightly, then it continued on its course. He hoped that answered the question about smell.
He assessed the gate, saw the heavy metal catch and how the wooden gate fitted tightly against the uprights, and decided that it would be quieter and safer to climb the wall. It was only four feet high and he was soon over, standing on the well-tended lawn. Light washed out from two of the downstairs windows and illuminated some of the garden closer to the house, but the further extremes of the garden were already in shadow. He had to act quickly if they were to be inside before true darkness fell.
Taking in a breath, a sudden shrill cry made him crouch down in terror. He looked around, trying to see where the noise came from. Then he looked up.
Almost directly above the house, a buzzard was in combat with several vesps. It seemed to have one clasped in its deadly claws, but as it flew several others attacked it. The bird called again, folding its wings and dropping, flapping and rising once more. A pale shape closed on it and a flurry of violence erupted, both shapes plummeting quickly. The vesp continued to fall and thumped down on the other side of the garden. The bird of prey rose, issuing several long, triumphant calls. They sealed its doom. More vesps quickly closed on it, and the bird was smothered in pale bodies.
Huw rooted for the buzzard. It was a huge animal, easily five times the size of the vesps. But it was outnumbered, and perhaps even outmatched. The vesps parted and the bird fell, and almost before it struck the ground beyond the garden’s far wall they were on it again.
Huw sighed and turned back to the house. He took three steps across the garden before the woman started shouting.
“You’re trespassing! Get the hell out of my garden!” She was standing at the left corner of the house and behind her, set in a lean-to portion that might be a kitchen, a door stood open. She was old, frail, but he could see the anger born of fear in her eyes. For a crazy moment he almost replied—it was a natural reaction, and something that anyone would have done—but as he took a breath to shout back…
They were flying across the garden, low and fast.
He waved at the woman, trying to signal to her to move back, get inside, slam the door—
“I said get the hell out of my bloody—”
The first vesp hit her from above, swerving over the lean-to’s roof and slamming down onto the top of her head. She swiped her hand and sliced the thing almost in two, and it was only then that he noticed the carving knives she carried. She staggered, leaned against the wall, and slashed out at the other vesps as they closed in.
Huw hunched down, hands held to his face. He wanted to go and help; every instinct told him to run towards her and tackle the beasts. But he also felt the weight of his family behind and above him. They’d be watching this, biting their lips to prevent themselves shouting at him, demanding that he back away and protect himself. He couldn’t help his family by dying for this poor old woman.
He stood, meaning to back away but actually taking a step forward, and then two vesps flew so close to him that he felt a wingtip slap his hip.
The woman fell as the creatures smothered her, biting, raging, frantic in whatever blood- or food-lust took them when they found new prey. She battled hard. Both hands waved and slashed, and several more vesps fell, flapping across the gravelled yard like landed fish as they bled out. She screamed in defiance and pain, swearing, and Huw heard no fear in her voice. But her valiant struggles did not last for long.
The feeding frenzy did. Something prickled at Huw’s ears, a sound so high pitched that he was not certain he heard it at all. But when more vesps flocked to the dead woman, he realised it must have been a call of some kind. They had found food and were signalling their brethren to come and feed.
They did not want to save this corpse for eggs. They ate, and he crouched low against the garden wall and watched. He was too terrified to move, too shocked to do anything other than witness her end.
Night had fallen, but not quickly enough to hide the sight. A cruel light spilled from the house.
A couple of minutes later, Huw realised that he’d dropped down behind the wall and that his family would no longer be able to see him. They’ll know that I’m here hiding, keeping safe, he thought, but a glimmer of panic bit in as he stood and looked back up the hillside.
There was just enough moonlight to silver the scene. Ally was almost at the foot of the hill and less than twenty metres away, and behind her he could see Lynne, then Kelly and Jude following. Ally saw him, froze, and brought her hands to her mouth, face crumpling with relief.
Huw held up both hands then pressed them slowly down. And separated from each other, yet still just close enough to see, they waited while the vesps’ feeding frenzy drew to a close.
* * *
It was at least fifteen minutes before the first vesp took off from the body and flew away. Others soon followed. Illuminated by the splash of light from the open doorway, the woman was a ruin, a tangle of torn clothes and bloody bones no longer even remotely identifiable as a human body. If he hadn’t seen her fall, he would never have known what he was looking at.
His family had slowly moved closer, and now they stood on the other side of the wall, close enough for him to touch. They held hands. In their silence they spoke volumes.
Huw pointed at the house. “It’s empty now.”
“What about them?” Ally signed. “Some might have gone inside.”
“That’s why you have to wait here again,” he said.
“Cold,” Lynne said.
“It’ll be warm in there. The fire’s still burning. Give me a while, I’ll wave from the door when it’s safe.”
“You’re going in that door?” Jude asked. He was staring at the thing that lay in the splay of light from the open doorway. Huw had no wish to go that way and see what remained. He would have to walk through her. But the door stood open, and the others might be locked. It was the quickest, easiest way inside.
“I’ll wave,” he said again. “We’ll be inside soon. Safe.” The last word he signed hung hollow in the air between them all, unanswered. Kelly smiled tiredly at him, then nodded towards the house.
This time, Huw took the gun.
He crossed the shadowy garden, and as he neared the house he felt more and more at risk. The light made it easier to see where he was stepping, and everything pointed to the vesps being completely blind, but he still felt naked and exposed.
He paused and took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he had to see.
Clothing soaked in blood lay scattered across the crazy-paved patio area. Her bones had been exposed: an arc of ribcage, the gleam of skull peering from a grey, clotted mass of hair. One hand lay clawed around a knife handle, many of the fingers chewed to the bone, several nails still visible. They were painted pink. Huw breathed deeply to hold back the nausea.
There were several dead vesps too, their blood thicker and darker than the woman’s. He approached slowly, stepping lightly, but he still could not bring himself to touch one of the dead creatures with his foot. Though they were opened up and their guts spilled, he was too afraid that they would fly at him.
He stepped past the remains and approached the open door. It led directly into a huge kitchen. There was a big farmhouse table in the centre and cupboards and worktops around three walls. Two doors led off from the room, but he was pleased to see that both were tightly closed. Standing in the doorway, gun half-raised, he held his breath and listened. All was silent.
Ingredients for a meal were scattered on a chopping block on the table—onions, mushrooms, a carton of eggs, a mixing bowl. His stoma
ch rumbled, and he tried to remember when he’d last eaten anything substantial. He couldn’t. Time seemed to have distorted, and this new life had been for ever.
Huw entered the kitchen, walking slowly, checking the floor in case he kicked or stepped on something, moving steadily around the island table and scanning the room for vesps. There was a big dresser against one wall with plates, cups and jugs displayed. Nothing else sat on the shelves. A rack hung above the table with pots and pans clipped on. No vesps. He ducked and checked beneath the table, and as he reached the two doors leading into the main house he gently shoved against them. Their catches were engaged.
There might have been other people in the house. There was no way of knowing without opening the doors, but he didn’t want to do that until his family was safely inside and the outside door was closed.
He stood in the doorway, trying to think about anything else he should have done. The dead woman’s remains glistened before him. His stomach lurched.
They’ll all have to see this, he thought, and he waved to his family, urging them towards him.
A couple of minutes later they were there. Kelly held Jude tight against her side so that he didn’t have to see what was left of the old woman, but he still stole a glance. His face looked so pale in the artificial light.
Inside at last, the door gently closed and locked, Huw turned to his family and whispered, “I think we might be safe here, for a while.”
Ally leaned over the table, pressed her face into her arms, and started to cry.
18
The cataclysm has brought about such a radical change in the way we live, communicate, and rely on each other that it’s almost as if we are killing ourselves. Society is built upon interdependence, and has been for thousands of years. We congregate in great communities of millions of people, creating complex webs of contact that cannot easily be unspun, and in times of chaos and need—times like now—it is human nature to draw that web in closer. To be with each other even more than we have before. We have come to rely on others for well-being—doctors, pastors, soldiers. Relying on oneself is too much of an alien concept for so many. That is why millions have died. If this had happened ten thousand years ago the vesps would have been called devils, but those small communities affected by them might well have been better equipped for survival. We need to return to that time. Flee the cities, don’t run to them. Find solitude, not solace in others. And remember, you are never alone. God is still with us; I believe that with every part of my terrified body and every shade of my battered soul. But now we can only pray to Him in silence.