“Do you believe them? That some kind of walking machine killed him?”
“Don’t you? After what happened to us? Who knows what tricks that man has up his sleeve?”
They peered into their drinks for a little while, listening to the children crying upstairs.
Joe slammed his fist on the table, nearly spilling his coffee and startling Eleanor. “We should be doing something. That madman’s roaming the street and what are we doing? Playing good neighbours!”
“What do you expect us to do, Joseph? Anne said the phones are down and like you said, that madman’s roaming the street, but with God knows what at his command. Do you want us to venture out and see what surprises he has in store?”
Joe covered his face and shook his head.
“No, I didn’t think so,” she said.
“But we’re trapped in here.”
“That depends on your position, Joseph. You can look at it that way, but I see it as being safe. At least for the time being.”
“But those things… He could have us surrounded.”
“And if they do try and get in, we’ll be ready this time. We’re not alone either. They haven’t tried to get in yet, have they?”
Joe realised they’d been in the Harper house for nearly twenty minutes now without incident. Maybe they
were
safe in here with the others.
“No matter what he tries,” Eleanor continued, “it’s us that have the upper hand.”
“How come? Hundreds of speedy little killers, deadly machines? I know which side I’d rather be on.”
“But he wants something from us: the mana, whatever that is. If he could just take it, I think he would have by now. Otherwise, why stick around? He thinks
we
know where it is.”
“Do we?”
“No…not at the moment, but I’m sure the answer will reveal itself in time. We don’t even know what it is, but as long as he thinks we do, he won’t risk losing that information.”
Joe sniffed. “Try telling that to Adam Dean.”
“Yes, well,” said Eleanor, cupping her mug with both hands, “maybe he did that to show us he means business.”
“He did that already.”
“I think we should speak to the others, see what they know about this man, if that’s what he is.”
Joe scratched his head.
“I don’t think Jenny is capable of talking sense anymore. I mean, did you see her? It’s like she’s turned her mind off or something.”
Both fell quiet as Frank entered the room. Flakes of dry blood clung to his hands, arms and shirt from handling Jake. He clutched a bundle of clothes, apparently not bothered about getting them dirty. He dumped them on the table in front of Joe.
“Anne told me to give these to you,” he said, heading for the cupboard containing the mugs. “Can’t have you wandering around my house almost naked.”
“Erm…thank you,” said Joe, standing up and beginning to dress.
“How are they?” asked Eleanor.
“Fine.”
Frank reached over her, picked up the coffee pot from the table and filled his mug. He raised it to his lips and drank it empty in a few gulps, the pot still in his other hand.
“You should see the state of the sofa,” he said, refilling, “and the bloody walls! Blood everywhere. It’s going to cost a fortune to clean.”
“Adam Dean is dead, and all you care about is your upholstery?” snapped Eleanor.
“Don’t you start,” growled Frank. “I mean, I didn’t ask for any of this, you know. It just happened. Why me, eh? Why my house?”
“You’re quite welcome to go over to our house,” she replied. “Meet our new guests.”
“What?”
“Our house was overrun,” said Joe. “These things…like giant spiders with a giant eye, hundreds of them. We were lucky and managed to get out of the house, but then
he
turned up…”
Frank snorted. “Not you two as well! All this talk of monsters… Has everyone gone mad?”
“You don’t think there’s something terribly wrong here?” asked Eleanor.
“Oh there’s definitely something wrong. I have
wrong
splattered all over the inside of my shed. That bastard killed my dog! And he didn’t just kill it, he mutilated the poor girl. So yes, I do think something is wrong.”
Joe started to rise, but quickly sat back down after a sharp glance from Eleanor.
“He?” she asked.
“Him,” Frank shouted. “The weird guy in the suit.”
“I see. Seems like it’s all of us he’s after.”
All three looked towards the door as Anne stuck her head inside.
“Everything okay in here? I thought I heard shouting.”
“It’s fine,” growled Frank. “Shouldn’t you be upstairs with the kids?”
“It’s just-”
He snarled. “Then go!”
Anne quickly retreated out of the kitchen.
“You shouldn’t speak to her that way,” said Joe. “This is hard for us all.”
“You trying to tell me how to speak to my own wife?”
Joe cleared his throat, avoiding Frank’s glare. “All I’m saying is-”
“You should mind your own business and be grateful that we took you in!”
Eleanor stood up, raising her hands. “Frank, please calm down. We don’t mean to interfere. We just can’t afford to argue amongst ourselves in this situation.”
Frank frowned at both of them for a moment and stormed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
“Nice bloke,” said Joe, listening to the heavy footsteps fading down the hall.
“We have to keep everybody calm, everybody together,” said Eleanor, returning to her chair. “The Deans are going to need our support, and arguing won’t help.”
“What do you think we should do?”
“I still think getting everyone together to discuss what’s happened is the best way forward,” she said. “We’d better give everyone more time to settle their nerves, and keep our eyes open for now.”
Joe grunted in agreement.
“If he has been to see everyone,” she said, “maybe one of the others might know what this
mana
is and how to give it to him.”
“My God, Grandma.” Joe pointed to the wall. “Look at that!”
Eleanor followed the direction of his finger to the notice board on the wall over the microwave. Amid the outstanding bills, shopping lists and various other notes, a brightly coloured drawing lay pinned in the centre. The untidy crayon strokes indicated the handiwork of a child.
“Anne’s little girl probably did it,” said Eleanor. “Quickly, bring it over.”
Joe did as instructed, spreading the picture on the table between them.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” he said, looking at the crude image of the black suited man with bright red hair and large blue eyes. “The Collector…”
“And look,” said Eleanor, tapping one of the creatures that surrounded him. “His Prowlers.”
“Prowlers?”
“That’s what he called them. Said you’d end up as Prowler food, remember?”
“It happened so fast…”
Eleanor turned the sheet of paper over and on the other side, written in a scrawling blue crayon, was the name
Bronwyn
.
“Anne’s girl did do this. Maybe she knows something.”
“But how? You’ve had a conversation with this man and you don’t know a thing. How can a little girl…?”
“Children,” she said, tapping a nail on the table in thought, “are more susceptible to paranormal activity. My books mentioned it a lot.”
Joe sighed. “It’s a start. I mean, we’re in the dark at the moment.”
Eleanor tilted her head up towards the ceiling, listening. The children’s cries were still there, but had quietened considerably.
“Again,” she said, “we wait until things have calmed down.”
Joe sat back in his chair. “You’re taking all of this very well, considering what we’ve just been through.
Really
well. You sure you’re okay?”
Eleanor took his hand. “I’ll admit I was terrified when the Prowlers burst in, but now…”
“What?”
“I thought the man was a paranormal investigator, at least that’s what he said he was. I believed he wanted the same as me, to see into the next life. Now, I think he’s from that other place.”
“You think he’s…a ghost?”
“No, not a ghost, but he’s no normal man either. After all my years of research, I think I’m on the verge of finally getting some answers. And the mana…I think the mana is the key.” She took a sip of coffee. “What about you? You seem composed.”
Joe looked into her eyes. “Really? Because inside, I’m shitting myself.”
“Joseph!” She scowled.
3.
Jake joined his mother on the sofa after pacing around the room. His throat ached from shouting and felt swollen where Frank’s forearm had pressed into it.
He was glad to be left alone; the frustration, the feeling of complete uselessness still burned within him. He knew all that would change once he got his hands on
the man
. But in the meantime, his mother needed him.
Jenny sat shaking on one side of the sofa, eyes wide and staring at the wall facing her. She mouthed breathless words, her lips trembling and forming her private conversation. Jake thought she might be praying. He put his arm around her relatively clean back and rubbed her skin through the fabric of her nightgown.
“I’ll get him, Mum,” he whispered. “I’ll make him pay.”
He shut up as Frank burst in.
“These people,” he moaned, striding to the fireplace. “They should be thanking me. But oh no, still criticising. Even though we did bail them out the shit!” Huffing, he looked over at Jake. “Good to see you’ve come to your senses and calmed down.”
“Wish I could say the same,” said Jake, not bothering to glance up.
“And they’re drinking all my coffee,” Frank continued.
Jenny peered up. “You should be more grateful,” she said through the tears.
“Grateful? Grateful for what? That my house is full of strangers? That my living room is a mess? That my kids are upset?”
“Grateful that you were warned.”
Frank placed his hands on his hips and gazed down at her. “Warned about what? I already knew that man was trouble. At least I tried to do something about it…”
“Yeah, I heard,” said Jake. “Head butt him in the nose. Bet that really pissed him off.”
“No more than you two playing chicken with him on that goddamn bike of yours. Anne saw you through the window.”
“That…thing…that machine,” said Jenny, ignoring both of them, “broke through the wall…so quick…didn’t know what was happening.”
“For the love of God,” bellowed Frank. “He murdered your son! I appreciate how upset you must be, but making up stories isn’t going to help anyone!”
Jenny glared at him out of the dry blood that coated her face.
“He was murdered, just like my dog. And when the phone comes back on and we contact the police-”
“My son is dead,” Jenny cut in. “It’s different than your dog!”
“And the phones aren’t going to come on,” Jake added, “not while he’s still around. My mobile’s at home, but if you-”
“You don’t know what it’s like to lose a child,” Jenny spat. “Yours are safe upstairs. How
dare
you accuse me of making up lies about something like this.”
“I know exactly what it feels like,” Frank said, digging into his trouser pocket. He pulled out a beaten, leather wallet and removed a photograph. “Which is why your actions are so appalling!”
He thrust the photograph towards Jenny. It showed a girl of around four or five playing on a swing. She was smiling, her long blonde hair flowing out behind her. A younger looking Frank, with more hair, stood in the background.
“This is Katie, my eldest. This was taken before the cancer really took hold.”
Jenny stared at the picture. “I’m…I’m sorry.”
“It was years before the disease eventually took her from us. Years filled with pain and hospitals and treatment, knowing we were only delaying the inevitable. Watching her waste away to nothing, day after day. Don’t you dare say I don’t know what it feels like.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t know.”
Frank turned the photograph around and studied it for a moment. He sighed. “I’m sorry too. I should know better than anyone what the both of you are going through.” He returned the picture to its place in his wallet. “But please: we’re all holed up in here together, while that murdering scum is out there. You have to tell us what really happened.”
“We told you,” snapped Jake. “He came with his machine!”
Frank glowered at them.
“You really should take a shower,” he said. “It can’t be helping either of you to sit in those clothes. I’ll get Anne to find you some fresh ones after she cleans up in here. I think hers will be too small for you, Jenny, but I’m sure I can find some of my old T-shirts and jeans.”
“You’re too generous,” said Jake and sneered.
“And I want you to stay with her,” ordered Frank. “Wait outside the bathroom door while she showers if you have to. Under no circumstances is anyone to go anywhere alone from now on, not until we get this situation under control.”
“What do you think, Mum?” asked Jake, continuing to stroke her back. “Can you manage a shower?”
“I…I think so.”
“Good,” said Frank. “Anne will show you how to work it.”
Jake helped his mother off the sofa and escorted her towards the door.
“Someone has to take charge here,” Frank said to himself, watching them go. “We can’t just sit around and wait for him to come knocking.”
4.
The street lights cast a yellow glow onto the road and pavements of Penny Crescent. The Dean’s house was dark bar a living room light at the front. He strained to see into the dark places of the street: by the Dean’s gate, among the grass verges, anywhere the red-haired man might lurk.
Satisfied he wasn’t out on the street, Frank dropped the curtain back into place, but quickly snatched it back up.
He stared at the bushes that bordered the side of his garden, positive something had moved there.
The wide leaves showed no sign of disturbance, registering not even the slightest of breezes.
Pressing his face against the window, he tried to see along the front of the house, to check the entire perimeter of the garden. Everything was as still as the rest of the street.