“Well, if that doesn’t hold it, then nothing will.”
“Very comforting. What should we do now?” Nigel had regained some of his arrogance, which gave me slight comfort. If he thought we were in any immediate danger, then I was sure that now-familiar grating whine would have taken control.
Turning away from the door, George lit the small camper stove. “We just sit and wait until the morning. There’s nothing else we can do.” He looked down at his watch. “It’s only three-thirty. I suggest Jane and Dave try and get some more sleep. The rest of us can
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take it in turns to watch the window. I’ll make some coffee.”
There was nothing more to say to that, but tired as we were, despite George’s apparent calm, there was no way anyone was going back to sleep with all the irate activity outside. My nerves were too alive to relax, and they weren’t helped by the strong coffee being brewed up.
Occasionally our silence was broken by the sound of a cigarette being lit-Dave even managing one or two, his fever seeming to have abated slightly-but in the main we just sat in a huddle in the middle of the scout’s hut and listened to the sounds of the new world outside.
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Chapter Thirteen
As dawn crept into daylight the sounds outside became more sporadic, filtering away, the noise less intrusive and aggressive; but we still sat in our group, staring at the walls, barely whispering to each other. By six-thirty, although our limbs were numb and stiff, nerves had unwound enough for Katie to take Dave to one side and re-dress his arm, talking softly to him, while George made fresh coffee-that great spiritual healer of all things-and heated up some golden syrup Oats So Simple for breakfast in a large pan. Despite everything, the hot smells made my mouth water, and as the silence outside approached forty-five minutes, I found that my fear had subsided.
Still with a cigarette in his mouth, John helped George dish up the food onto paper plates while Nigel packed away the sleeping bags and equipment, before heading into the bathroom, his suit and shirt tucked under his arm.
John nudged me as he passed me my breakfast, and
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nodded at the closed WC. “What the fuck is all that about? Why is he wearing that stupid suit?”
I took a leaf out of George’s book of experience and tried to make light of it. “Each to their own, John. Maybe he needs that to feel normal at the moment.”
“If you say so, Matt, but I’m not convinced that’s making anyone feel normal. Now tuck in.”
We ate quickly and hungrily, scraping our plates clean, but as I got to the bottom of my coffee, I noticed that Katie and John had started to sip more slowly. I looked at the door.
“So, time to go out and face the damage?”
Jane’s eyes darted up above her cup. “But what if they’re not gone? What if they’re still waiting out there for us?”
“I don’t think they are, honey. It’s been quiet outside for a long time now.”
She didn’t look at all convinced, and her hand gripped Katie’s arm tightly.
Leaning towards her, I squeezed her knee. “I promise we’ll be very, very careful. We can hardly stay in here forever, can we?”
Shaking her head, she was still doubtful. “We’ll be careful?”
“More careful than ever.”
“Okay.”
The little girl’s courage seemed to spur us, and within five or ten minutes we were gathered beside the door. George slid open the bottom bolt, his free hand gripping the golf club that had come in so handy the previous day, and I held my breath, waiting to hear some kind of reaction from outside, but as much as my ears buzzed from the strain, there was nothing.
“So far, so good.” I met the old man’s eyes and
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nodded at him, holding my can and lighter up. John and Nigel did the same alongside me. Katie stood behind the door with hers, Jane tucked behind her, so that if anything did burst through then she had the best chance of being protected. Although armed with hairspray and lighters, I wasn’t convinced how much protection we’d be.
Pulling the top lock back, George opened the door an inch or two and I peered through. The air was still unnaturally warm, especially given the early time of day, and because of the damp heat a fine mist seemed to cling to the hedges and trees. But I couldn’t see any sign of living creatures.
Taking a chance, I pushed the door, swinging it open wide. Nothing moved except the slight breeze that nudged past me, eager to set free the stale odour of tired and scared humans that filled our temporary sanctuary. I stepped forward onto the gravel, checking around me for any widows, relieved to find none, but still ready with my makeshift weapon.
“Holy shit.”
Turning round, seeing what had caused Dave to swear, I almost dropped the can from my hand. I certainly forgot about it. In fact, standing there with my mouth open, I don’t think I’d have noticed a widow if it came and tapped me politely on the shoulder before ripping my head off.
“Jesus, we must really piss those things off.” Katie passed me, walking almost to the end of the short path, where the gate glittered with moisture. In fact, everything shone with drops of water, the humidity so much that although the storm of the previous night was over, the air itself felt wet against my skin. But the weather was a worry for another time. Right now, I
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could only stare at what was left of our careful foraging from yesterday.
The windscreen of the Animal was smashed completely, as was the window on the passenger side; the load of clothing and tents was ripped and strewn across the road in untidy clumps, sodden and useless. The windscreen wiper stuck out at an angle from the bonnet, as if something had been halfway through tearing it off when it had become distracted by more tempting prey.
Behind it, the Range Rover was in a far worse state, tipped completely over on its side, all the water containers emptied on the ground around it, and the bonnet was yawning wide open, revealing its mutilated innards. The final vehicle was in a similar state to the Animal, but the wheels sunk hopelessly into the earth, gouges in the thick rubber tyres having stolen the air from them, just in case we dared to think about trying to drive the wrecked body away.
Still trying to get my breath back, I left the gate behind and walked into the road. For a hundred yards or more in either direction, our food and goods lay damaged, dented and abandoned. I took care not to touch anything, not because it was the scene of a crime and the police would be here any moment to dust for fingerprints, lovely though that thought was, but because there were shimmering sickly strands of widows’s webs covering every surface, running between each item of evidence like a trail of spit from a psychotic madman, twisting and linking into each other with no rhyme or reason. The breeze lifted and with it came a vague odour of rot that could only be coming from the gift the widows had left behind for us.
“Can you smell that?” The others had followed me
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out onto the road, so they were close enough to hear my low whisper, although in the silence of this new world I’m sure the sound carried almost into the village. No one answered and I took it as a yes, peering round at them. “When I went into The Plough in Stony to get the keys for the car, the bar was covered in this stuff. I don’t remember that smell. I don’t remember it smelling of anything.”
“Neither do I.” Katie stepped past me and turned round. “So, what does it mean?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure it means anything.” What the fuck did I know? I barely recognised the countryside ahead of me, hiding its secrets in the mist.
“Oh, yes, it does.” John paused to light another cigarette, the focus of all our attention. Rather than lecturing him on the health risks of nicotine, I took the opportunity to light one of my own, needing to conquer the invading stench with a friendly acrid one of my own choice; and on top of that I didn’t like the slight dread in his tone.
“What it means is that things haven’t finished settling down yet. We’re still in the beginning.” He looked at each of us as if that were enough.
George eventually spoke for all our confusion. “Explain.”
“It’s simple. The widows haven’t fully developed yet, so like yesterday, when they were newborn, this shit they spew out didn’t smell, but today, one day later, it does. And who knows what else it does. I’m not going to touch it unless I have to, anyway. What we’ve got to remember is that this has only been going on a day. The rules aren’t set yet. We’ve got to not take things for granted.”
Nigel stared at the desolation in front of us. “So, if
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we chose to look on the bright side of the idea that nothing’s set yet, then things could actually get better. The widows may only have a life span of a couple of days. Maybe the smell is the sign of sickness or weakness.” He smiled, a wild hope in his eyes.
“Or it could just get a whole lot worse.” Dave just got the words out before he broke into a hacking cough. The light in Nigel’s expression went out, and scowling, he turned away.
“And speaking of worse, I don’t want to be a pain in the arse, but my arm hurts like hell. I think I need some stronger antibiotics or something.”
“So, where should we go? The village? They may have a chemist’s there.” Katie was clinging to Jane, and I wondered who was comforting whom. Her hair had come loose from her ponytail while she slept, and her wild curls hung free down her back. Again, my urge to protect her was suddenly confused with other, more primal instincts, and I swallowed hard trying to focus on our situation rather than the sudden tingling sensations that ran through me.
Dave nodded at something in the distance. “There’s a farmhouse over there. I think that’s where we should go first. They may have a couple of shotguns we can have.” He leaned against the wall a little, revealing his weakness. “I don’t fancy taking on any more of those bastards without something a little more substantial if we can help it. I can manage another couple of hours on the pills we’ve got.”
From the look of him I wasn’t so sure, but there was sense in what he was saying and I could see agreement on the tense faces around me. We did need better weapons, and the farm was the best bet. My heart
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sank a little at how we were toughening up. “Okay. Let’s go.”
The building looked deceptively close, but had to be at least two miles away, and that was heading over the fields. That was going to be hard work, given the amount of rain that had fallen.
“How are we going to get there?” The answer to Nigel’s question was so obvious that no one answered it for a moment, until George filled the silence.
“Our only option is to walk. So I suggest we get started.”
Our mood sombre, matched by the thick grey sky above, we loaded up rucksacks with what we could carry and tucked supersized aerosols and lighters into our belts within easy reach; then we began walking.
We finally trudged through the gates at the bottom of the farmhouse drive just over an hour later, and despite our slow pace, I was sweating and tired. The clouds were hanging low, the weight of their load obviously getting too much to carry, and I didn’t need a weatherman to tell me that it wouldn’t be long until another downpour was upon us. With the stifling humidity, our thick fleeces and the bags on our backs, making our way through the fields had been hard work, and it hadn’t only been Dave that had needed rest stops. None of us had argued when the suggestion had been made to take a breather, and at least in the open we could see what was around us, even if we didn’t have the energy to run from it.
“Any sign of life?” George pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face, grimacing slightly, the walk obviously having taken its toll on him despite his lack of complaints.
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I peered around. Alongside the large old-style farmhouse there was no garage, but a car port had been built onto it, and there was no sign of any car there. I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. No car meant it was likely that there was no one home and that was definitely a positive, but it also meant we had a long walk back to town.
“Doesn’t look like it.”
Deciding that I was too tired to be terrified, I swore quietly under my breath and strode towards the front door. Twisting the handle, I shoved my shoulder and backpack into the thick wooden door and almost fell into the hall when it flew open, unlocked.
“Shit!” Scrambling backwards on the worn red carpet, I steadied my feet and gripped the door frame, breath racing in my ears, eyes darting around wildly, sure that something was going to leap out at me. Katie and George must have been of the same mind because they were suddenly by my side, aerosols raised.
“Shit.” The repetition was calmer than the original, but my breath was still quick. The hallway stood desolately empty in front of me. Smiling humbly, I shrugged at the others. “Don’t panic.” The irony in my words wasn’t lost on me, and my grin became sheepish. “I know, I know…the only one panicking here is me.”
Katie nudged me. “It’s all right. It didn’t show.”
“Thanks.”
“Much.” Giggling, she evaded my sideswipe, and this time I felt much perkier as I crossed over the Hoovered threshold.
“Any sign of that white stuff?” Dave’s voice carried in from out on the drive.
The interior of the house laid out in front of me was tatty but clean, the faintly cool smell hinting at no
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centtral heating. Checking the kitchen on one side and the pantry on the other, I moved forward. There were none of the widows’s trails in sight. “It seems empty. I think we’re okay.”
Relaxing slightly, George went into the pantry and pulled open the fridge. “Well, at least the electricity’s still on. There’s bread and cheese in here. And some ham. I’ll make sandwiches.” The rustle of his backpack sliding to the floor followed his cheerful words out into where I stood in the hallway.