Sep realized it had been hours since he’d listened to it – since he’d felt the need to hide away behind his headphones.
Something groaned behind him, and he turned his head.
There was a stag lying a few metres away, its legs scratching at the track, its open mouth dark with blood. He breathed in, felt his lungs fill with its hot musk, and felt the darkness slipping into his mind as the creature bellowed into the night.
He tried to blink, tried to pull his mind back to wakefulness.
Then Hadley was there, and he opened his eyes.
‘Sep! Can you hear me?’
‘Where are we?’ he said, the words all coming as one sound, the pain roaring through his body like a stifled scream.
‘We hit a stag,’ said Hadley. She had her hands on either side of his head and was looking at him upside down. ‘Everyone’s OK.’
She ran her fingers over his forehead, and despite everything – the screaming pain and the chaos and the heavy dregs of unconsciousness – he tingled.
He sat up and fell straight over, a weight like a steel ball rolling in his head. Mack steadied him, the big arms hooking into Sep’s armpits.
‘We need to get it to Mario,’ said Lamb, kneeling beside the stag. Its legs were moving erratically in painful twitches, while the truck’s exhaust puffed a murky, red-lit cloud over the scene.
‘We don’t have time,’ said Mack.
The stag bellowed again, a massive, untamed roar that speared back into the woods and echoed through the trees.
‘Listen to it! We can’t just leave it here,’ snapped Lamb.
Sep thought about Roxburgh, somewhere behind them, his little dead dog snapping at his heels.
‘We need to be fast,’ he said.
Lamb caught his eye.
‘Hadley told us. Roxburgh’s dead then?’
‘Kind of,’ said Sep, remembering the noise the thing had made when he stabbed its eye. ‘Oh, Jesus. The box is killing people. And it’s our fault.’
‘It’s my fault,’ said Mack. His face was ashen, his eyes deep and red. ‘Shit, I’m sorry. I never meant for any of –’
He dropped his face in his hands.
‘We’d better get the stag on the flatbed,’ said Lamb, flipping down the tailgate. ‘Come on, Mack.’
‘Are you kidding me?’ said Mack, shaking himself and blinking away tears. ‘Look at the size of this thing.’
‘Don’t give me that,’ said Lamb, placing her hands under the stag’s shoulders. ‘I’ve seen you lift; you can manage this.’
Mack rolled his eyes, but squatted beside the stag and gripped its hindquarters.
‘At least buy it dinner first,’ said Arkle.
‘Dude, shut up. Just grab something.’
Arkle reached out with his free hand.
‘Not me,’ said Mack. ‘The deer!’
‘Oh,’ said Arkle.
He took his hand out of Mack’s pocket, then put his arms beside Hadley’s on the stag’s belly. Sep grabbed the antlers as they swung towards Mack’s unprotected side, and held on, teeth gritting with the effort.
‘This thing is huge,’ said Mack.
Lamb nodded at him.
‘This is why you don’t skip leg day. Ready?’
They heaved. The animal roared again, its weight hung between the stirrups of their grip.
‘Nearly – there –’ said Mack, veins sticking out on his forearms.
The stag roared again, and Sep heard movement in the leaves on the other side of the truck.
‘We need to hurry!’ he shouted.
The stag’s neck was unbelievably strong, and he felt himself being pushed back by the antlers’ white-tipped claws. He wondered what would happen if his hand slipped – how deeply the points would bury themselves in his neck.
‘Done!’ shouted Mack, and the truck’s suspension buckled under the animal’s weight.
There was a shriek from the darkness.
‘Let’s go!’ shouted Lamb, banging her hand on the window frame and leaping into the cab. ‘Not you – you and that thing can get in the back!’
‘With the stag? But – why?’ said Arkle, holding up Rosemary’s skin-peeled head to show off her cuteness.
‘Get in the back! Now! We’re not going to be able to go as fast with a flat tyre!’
Sep jumped in behind Hadley and slammed the door as Roxburgh’s puppet leaped into the headlights – followed by a tide of dead animals.
‘Oh my God!’ said Hadley. ‘What do we –’
‘Smash them!’ shouted Mack.
Lamb crunched the gears and the truck leaped forward as though stung, throwing the little puppet in the air. It landed on the bonnet and screamed, dragging its sharp little hands with a sound of tearing steel as the creatures spilled over the truck.
‘The paintwork!’ shouted Lamb.
‘Forget the paintwork!’ shouted Mack. ‘Go!’
Here’n’now punched the windscreen – which cracked.
‘Shit!’ Sep shouted. ‘What about Arkle?’
They looked out of the back window. Arkle was buried under a mountain of bloody fur, swinging his feet to keep the dead things at bay.
Another punch from Here’n’now made a bullet hole in the glass. The puppet reached into it and began tearing the screen from the truck like it was peeling an orange.
Lamb slammed down the accelerator and launched round a bend, tipping the truck almost on its side, the rubber of its shredded tyre flapping in mid-air as they screamed. The puppet’s fingers snapped with the strain, and it flew into the darkness.
Sep heard a tap on the window behind him.
Arkle, tucked into the gap between the stag’s front and back legs, gave him a thumbs up, then held up the inside-out squirrel. ‘Still got her!’ he shouted, trickles of blood on his hands and face.
Sep blinked slowly, trying to get rid of the spots dancing in his vision. The truck was rolling with a budda-budda-budda on its broken wheel.
‘I’m hiding the truck in town once we’ve taken this thing to Mario,’ said Lamb. Her hair was flying around her head, blown by the wind through the smashed windscreen.
‘What good will that do?’ said Mack.
‘It’s all smashed up and it’s covered in blood! What else can I do but say it was stolen?’
‘That’s against the law,’ said Sep. ‘It could –’
‘All of this is against the law!’ shouted Lamb. ‘Everything we’re doing is crazy. The truck won’t last much longer with three tyres – we’re ditching it. There’s a tarpaulin in the back. I’ll cover it with that.’
‘And then what?’
‘Go home and get your bikes, then come to my farm and think about what we’re going to do next.’
Arkle rapped on the back window again and waved at them with one of Rosemary’s little legs.
‘Where are we going?’ he shouted.
‘Town!’ shouted Hadley. ‘We’re ditching the truck and taking our bikes!’
‘That’s cool,’ said Arkle. ‘Cool cool cool.’ He shook his head. ‘I think I feel a bit better.’
He vomited over the side of the truck.
‘Why do we need bikes?’ said Sep. He thought of his Chopper: never idle during the summer of sacrifice, and never used since.
‘What if something happens?’ said Hadley. ‘Bikes would be better than running.’
Sep closed his eyes again. The truck’s soggy smell was adding to the rolling vomit in his belly, and he felt the contents of his stomach slosh against its sides as Lamb turned another corner and headed for the row of shops. The sky was swirling with electric heat as the storm neared boiling point, and when he looked out the window he saw its fierce energy had emptied the streets.
Lamb brought them to a neck-snapping stop behind the vet’s surgery and killed the engine. The truck sagged in exhaustion, and fluid pattered from its guts.
‘Right. Sep, you need to go in and make up some story about how we found the stag.’
>
‘I’ll help you get down,’ Hadley added.
‘Oh, God –’ said Sep.
‘What is it, Sep?’ said Mack.
‘Just … I said I was sick. If I go in he’ll know I lied to him. I’ve never lied to him before.’
‘But you are sick,’ said Lamb, ‘I mean, you look like shit.’
‘Thanks,’ said Sep.
He climbed down after Hadley, holding her hand to steady himself, focusing on the fabric of her sodden, bloodstained glove to stop his head from rolling about.
‘What if he’s not here?’
‘Then we’re in even bigger trouble,’ Hadley said.
Sep stared at her. ‘You look better. Stronger.’
‘I feel better. I’m –’
‘Wait,’ interrupted Sep. ‘You’ve felt better each time we’ve left the box. And worse as we got near it. And you’ve been feeling weak since yesterday.’
Sep took her hand and turned it over. The wound shone in the truck’s door light.
‘This isn’t healing properly,’ he said as the others craned their necks. ‘Jesus, Hadley: this is what the blood you dropped in the box is doing – it’s making you weak! You’ve given it that part of yourself – your blood, your strength – and now it’s hurting you with it.’
‘Oh my God,’ said Lamb.
‘It’s taking my strength?’ asked Hadley.
‘To make itself stronger,’ said Sep, nodding at the smashed-in windscreen.
Hadley pulled her hand away. Her face was pale.
‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Go on, we can’t stay here.’
‘But –’
‘Go!’ she shouted, and pushed him towards the surgery door.
Sep looked down the row of shops. Being back in the midst of civilization seemed too big a jolt, like the bin with the crisp packets and the puddles of ice cream had beamed down from an alien ship. It seemed impossible that he could close his eyes after being bitten by a zombie dog, then be chased by a murderous puppet and more zombie animals – and open them to find a poster for a bake-off.
He knocked on the door. Nothing happened for a moment, and hope rose inside him for just a second before a light clicked on inside and Mario said:
‘Hello? Who is this?’
Sep swallowed a sharp, bloody ball of spit. A swell of noise made him look around, wondering if Barnaby was close, invisible in the shadows behind his closed green eyes.
He gritted his teeth, chewing his bad tooth deeper into his gum.
‘It’s Sep, Mario. Could you –’
‘September? What is –’ Mario’s face, sweaty and pale, appeared between the blinds. ‘My God! You are hurt?’
The door swung open. The surgery was lit with such brilliance that it hurt Sep’s eyes and he turned away, exposing the deep cut on his head and the vomit on his T-shirt.
‘You are hurt! Oh my God, my Sep, come in. I will –’
‘No,’ said Sep, taking Mario’s hand from his shoulder, ‘it’s not me. I – we –’
‘We?’ said Mario.
The stag bellowed a long, mournful bark that split the sky.
Mario bustled past Sep and approached the truck. He nodded at the others.
‘Hi, Mario,’ said Arkle. The effects of the box seemed to have worn off. His eyes were glassy and wide, but he was still clutching Rosemary to his chest.
‘We must get him inside,’ said Mario, ignoring Arkle and pressing his hands on the stag’s heaving side. ‘I will fetch the trolley. Open the gate – and be careful; he is badly hurt.’
‘Mario,’ said Sep, reaching for his arm as he returned to the surgery. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do.’
‘Is OK,’ said Mario. He wiped his face on his T-shirt, exposing his great stomach for a moment. ‘Animal is hurt, of course you bring him to me, of course.’
‘No, I mean earlier, when I said I was ill, I –’
‘Oh, my Sep, is fine, is fine,’ said Mario, and he gripped Sep’s arm, lowering his voice. ‘You have friends to go out with – is good. But is bad that they drive without licence: be safe, always, be safe. You are my best boy.’
He mussed Sep’s hair, then disappeared into the surgery. By the time he re-emerged, the stag had begun to slide off the end of the truck. Mario ran over, the trolley rattling on the stone, and helped Mack pull the stag on to the stainless steel, its hot reek splashing on to the pavement.
Gesturing to the others that he would catch them up, Sep went to follow Mario as he rolled it inside. Lamb raised her hands in question and Hadley bit her lip, her hand gripping Lundy’s fur.
But Mario pushed him away.
‘No,’ he said firmly, his hand on Sep’s chest.
‘What’s that?’ said Sep, touching the butterfly stitches on Mario’s puncture wounds.
‘Is nothing,’ said Mario, waving his hand lightly. ‘A dog, today.’
‘Isn’t it always a dog?’ said Sep, and he smiled weakly.
Mario smiled back – but to Sep’s eyes it was a strained and painful grimace.
‘You must be going to the hospital now,’ said Mario.
A dark little figure dropped unseen through the open skylight behind him – its glowing eyes fixed on Sep.
‘But –’
‘You must! Look at your face!’
Sep stood back, hiding the blackened wetness of the jeans sticking to his wound. Its agony had subsided to a sharp throb, and he felt his pulse beating through it. His deaf ear sent familiar shards of pain into his back tooth, and he looked around, expecting Barnaby to flicker out from the darkness beyond the street lights.
He looked up at the sky – the hurtling comet hidden by thick cloud. He thought of the plans he and Mario had made to watch it together.
‘I can help,’ he said. ‘I’ll stay with you, Mario! You might be in –’
‘No – hospital! I am vet, I know what I am doing. You go, go with your friends.’
The last words twisted in Sep’s heart as the door closed in his face. He stepped back into the swirling stormlight, the stag roaring its deep, broken agony as Mario wheeled it away.
‘Get your new sacrifices and your bikes, then meet at my farm,’ said Lamb.
They each turned and ran towards their houses, Sep hobbling as best he could on his ruined leg – and hiding his face, so the others wouldn’t see.
47
Fox
The squad car was in the drive. Sep swore under his breath and crept as soundlessly as he could towards the house.
Something moved at him from the darkness. His heart leaped and he cried out before he could stop himself.
‘Oh thank God, it’s only you,’ he whispered, his heart pounding.
The fox hopped a little in expectation.
‘I don’t have anything. Go! You’ll get me in –’
‘Sep?’ said his mum, opening the screen door.
‘Hi, Mum,’ he said as casually as he could. ‘I was just getting –’
‘Where have you been?’ she said. She’d been making a sandwich, and a slice of ham was still clutched in her hand. ‘I’ve been so – oh my God! What’s happened to you?’
‘Ah,’ said Sep, remembering his bashed-in face and bloodstained clothes. ‘I … fell. Over. From a tree. I fell over a tree.’
‘You’re covered in blood! And you’ve been sick! Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine, Mum. Honestly I am – it’s not my blood. Or my sick.’
She pulled him into a hug, then shook him hard.
‘Where have you been?’ she said again. ‘I told Matt to keep you in –’
‘Oh, he told me. I went to Lamb’s house instead.’
She let him go and stepped back. Candlelight from the porch surrounded her body, its shadows hiding her expression – but he could see her skin was waxy and grey.
‘I told you to stay in school,’ she said evenly. ‘It doesn’t matter that it was Matt who gave you the message – it came from me and I expect you to do what
you’re told. We haven’t found who assaulted Mrs Maguire, and until we do I need to know you’re safe. I came home for a change of clothes and something to eat, and to see if this was where you’d gone. But I’m going back to the station now, and you’re coming with me. Go and get cleaned up, and we’ll –’
‘No! I’m not going there!’
She turned and looked at him.
‘Excuse me?’
He took a step towards the garage.
‘I’m not going with you. I’m – I’m going with my friends.’
‘Your “friends”? And who are they?’
‘The ones you asked about yesterday: Arkle, and Lamb, and Mack. And Hadley,’ he finished, taking a deep breath.
‘No,’ she said, shaking her head.
‘I am!’
Sep ran to the garage, pulling open the door with a screech.
‘You’re – wait, Sep!’
She grabbed his arm as he fumbled for the light switch.
‘You’re to come with me, right now! I can’t deal with you as well as everything else. I just –’
‘You don’t have to deal with me, honestly. I don’t mean to make you feel any worse. I just – you have to trust me. I know how to make this go away.’
He found the switch, and clicked it back and forth. The bulb sputtered, then winked out. But in the half-second of light he’d seen his old yellow Chopper, tucked away behind the lawnmower and the charcoal, its frame buried under years of neglect.
‘Go away?’ his mum said. ‘Make what go away? What are you talking about?’
Sep grabbed the bike, shaking the worst of the dust away.
He looked around, trying to find something that connected him to the others, that could convey the strength of the bond he’d rediscovered in the last twenty-four hours. But there was nothing in the dirty garage, and he knew there was nothing in his room either: no photos, no mementos. He’d buried his life in schoolwork and thoughts of escape, and he saw now how stark his life had been – how he’d shut out the happiness he might have had.
An old notebook and pen lay on a shelf. He grabbed them, tore out a blank page and wrote for a moment, then folded the scrap of paper into his back pocket.
His mum was talking.
‘– don’t feel good just now, Sep, but that’s not anything you need to worry about. You’ve got so much going on: school and your scholarship and everything, and once the sickness passes –’
The Sacrifice Box Page 22