The Demon Inside, page 15
“Come back an’ visit me?” He said, his dirty fingers digging lightly into her wrist, surprisingly strong despite his slender build. Once he had her nod of agreement he released her, watching as they walked away, towards where the van was parked in the middle of the road.
They had only taken a few steps before his thin, reedy voice called them back, “Take this.” Coming forward, he pulled something out of his jacket pocket and pressed it into her palms.
Only once he’d stepped back could Darcy look down at the furry object in her hands. She almost dropped it in shock and disgust. The beady black eyes of a dead rat looked up at her. Its limbs were stiff, its neck bent at an odd angle. He must have broken its neck. Dazedly, she remembered him slamming something into the brick wall moments before they interrupted him. He had been crouched there, waiting for the rat to come along, and then he’d caught it with his lightning fast reflexes and killed it.
“They make good soup,” he smiled that gummy, revolting smile and bile rose in her throat.
They drove home in silence. Darcy was appalled by the dead rat on the floor at her feet, bouncing and rolling with every move of the van, though she had been unable to return it; she didn’t want him to think she was ungrateful. On the other hand, Alec wasn’t particularly bothered by the glazed eyes staring up at him, his only concern was the fact that the sun had disappeared completely from the sky, sinking down into the horizon. Despite the fact that they’d already seen two creatures lurking around a block of deserted flats as they drove by, Darcy couldn’t quite summon the appropriate amount of fear; she was with Alec and, though her head said it was impossible, every other instinct she possessed believed he could protect her from anything.
Arriving home without incident, they watched the gates shut behind them before driving up to the house.
“I was starting to get worried,” Hope exclaimed the moment they walked through the door, emerging from the living room to stand in the hall with her hands on her hips, “what took you so long?” For a moment she looked so overwhelmingly like their mum, with that stern expression on her face that Darcy couldn’t reply around the lump in her throat.
Thankfully, Alec answered for her, “We spent most of the day driving round looking for a bloody gardening centre, then we came across this homeless guy.” Alec repeated the story twice, once for Hope and again for Callie, who wasn’t really interested in the story but she still got points for dragging herself away from the TV long enough to ask. Needless to say, he didn’t mention the gift they had been given, though he did dub the man ‘Rat’ for want of a better name, but when Hope asked why he simply shrugged.
Once the others had their fill of information, Alec disappeared for a minute and she heard his voice, joined by Mac’s, out on the back patio, but their words were indistinct. When Alec returned, collapsing onto the sofa beside her, he wore a huge grin which spread from ear to ear.
“Now we’ll see how much my dad remembers of his survival training.”
“Why, what have you done?” she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes at him, however, he merely smirked.
“What kind of meat is this?” Callie asked a while later, spooning up a piece of tough grisly meat and letting it drop back into her bowl of thin, watery broth with a splash, alongside the canned kidney beans Mac had added.
“Road kill,” Alec lied easily, knowing full well they wouldn’t eat it if told the truth, “some kinda bird.” Taking a mouthful, he chewed slowly and then shrugged, “Not bad.”
“This doesn’t taste like any bird I’ve ever eaten,” Callie frowned suspiciously after taking a bite.
Blinking, Alec smoothed his face into an innocent expression and asked in a faux interested tone, “Did you used to eat a lot of road kill?”
Immediately, the corners of Callie’s lips twisted up in a sneer, “No, my family had more class than that.” Pulling a mocking face, he pretended to doff an invisible hat at her.
“Who the hell cares what kinda meat it is?” Mac exclaimed gruffly, having already devoured his meal and lifting the white porcelain bowl to his lips to swig the dregs, “Meat is meat.”
Despite what Mac said, Darcy couldn’t bring herself to swallow the cooked chunks of rat meat; all she could think was that these were the creatures that helped spread the plague and inhabited dirty sewers. Having eaten the kidney beans and drunk the broth, she subtly tipped the greyish-brown chunks huddled at the bottom of her bowl into Alec’s.
Raising a brow, he asked with a hidden smirk brightening his eyes, “Not hungry?”
Shooting him an I’m-glad-you-find-this-amusing look, she said, “You’re bigger than me, you need more sustenance.” Grinning, he held her gaze as he picked up a piece of meat with his fingers and popped it into his mouth. She rolled her eyes.
“Were you born in a pig sty?” Callie sneered in disgust as he licked his fingers clean.
“How should I know?” Alec asked around another mouthful, before raising his voice to call out, “Dad?”
“What?” Mac’s gruff voice answered from the kitchen where the faint scent of cigarettes indicated he was smoking.
“Where was I born?”
“I dunno, I weren’t there.”
Glancing over at Callie, Alec shrugged, “Sorry, I got no answer for you.” Usually it upset Darcy when they yanked each other’s chains, because it defiantly wasn’t the good natured teasing of friends, but today she didn’t mind; it was the first time Callie had seemed like herself in days and Alec knew how to handle it.
“It was a rhetorical question anyway,” her friend snapped.
“I don’t know what that word means,” Alec admitted freely, seemingly unconcerned.
“Oh, which one?” Callie flashed him a sweet smile.
“Rhetorical.” He was totally candid.
“A rhetorical question is one which doesn’t require an answer.”
“All questions need an answer,” he argued, “or no one would ask them.” Their bickering continued until everyone has finished eating and clearing away and Callie disappeared back into the sitting room.
“I’m worried about her,” Darcy said softly as they listened to the TV switch on.
Passing behind her, Alec dropped a hand onto her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, “She’ll snap out of it.”
But she didn’t.
Chapter Thirteen
The next day Mr Johnson yanked open his front door on the second knock, his face screwed up with displeasure. “You were supposed to have my greenhouse yesterday.”
Taking a hasty step back onto the bottom step, Alec explained, “I know, I’m sorry, we couldn’t find...”
“You promised me a greenhouse yesterday,” the other man repeated with a snap in his voice, “I thought you were a man of your word, but obviously I misjudged you.”
“Mr Johnson...”
“No excuses.”
“Mr Johnson,” Alec tried again, “we’re on our way to get your greenhouse and it will be put up by this evening, but we need you to tell us where the nearest garden centre is.”
A few minutes later they watched the old mans’ house shrink in the wing-mirror as they went on their way, having finally received grudging directions. “Damn,” Alec blew out a breath, “he scares the shit outa me.”
“Ah,” Darcy teased, knocking her shoulder playfully against his, “my poor baby is terrified of a little old man.”
“That little old man spits venom,” he assured her as they turned onto the main road.
Roughly half an hour later, as they drove down a country road, having just turned off the deserted motorway, he asked, “Which turning did he say it was? First or second?”
“Third. I think it’s that little one there, on the right.” Leaning forward in her seat, she pointed out a thin dirt track, almost hidden by the overgrown bushes lining it. Taking the turning, limbs slapped against the windscreen, loose leaves gathering on top of the wipers.
“I don’t think this is the right way,” Alec frowned once they had gone a little way down the track, which was getting increasingly narrower and bumpier.
“Let’s just go a bit further,” she insisted, craning her neck as if it would somehow enable her to see around the next sharp bend of the winding path, “I’m sure Mr Johnson said it was the third turning off Campbell Lane.”
Several minutes later, just when Alec was muttering about trying to reverse back out, since there was no way to turn the van around in such a tight space, the track turned a corner and opened up into a small, square gravel car park, in front of a rundown, glass fronted building. They parked as close as they could, before getting out to wedge open the automatic glass doors.
Inside, the building was light and airy, untouched by the devastation that had torn apart the towns and cities around it; out here it was hidden away, surrounded by trees. But despite the space and the sunlight streaming through the windows, there was still something eerie about it. Perhaps it was simply the unnatural emptiness, their footsteps being the only sound that could be heard echoing against the tile floor, or it might have been that the domestic plants on display, rows and rows of them, had begun to reclaim the building, their leaves and vines twisting with one another, creeping up the shelves and stretching out into the open corridor. Nature was reclaiming what man had made now that they could no longer maintain it. Strangely enough, it was comforting to think that the world would go on without them, that Mother Nature would rise up to take over everything they had forced upon her, but still beneath all the greenery the concrete structures of humanity would remain.
Their legacy.
By the time they were finished they had six greenhouses in flat boxes stacked in the back of the van, along with multiple bags of compost, several overgrown tomato plants they had managed to untangle from their brethren and a basket full of small packets of seeds. Grabbing another basket from the stand by the door, he gestured towards the sweets lined up on the checkout counter, above open crates of vegetables, which had rotted into foul smelling mush at the bottom.
Nodding, Darcy pointed to the small brick building, a few meters away from the main one, with the sign for a toilet stencilled on the door, “I’m just going to the toilet.”
“Okay,” he answered. “Be careful, have you got your gun?” Reaching into the pocket of her large, comfortable hoodie, she pulled out the black handgun to reassure him, before slipping it back inside.
“Good,” he nodded, “yell if you need me. I’ll meet you back here in a minute.”
The door was heavy and stiff, grating as she pushed it open. There was no light, except for a tiny square window above the stained sinks which provided barely enough light to see by. The door drifted shut behind her, scraping against the floor as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. There were two rows of cubicles and she took the one closest to her, but it had no toilet roll so she moved to the next, locking the door behind her out of habit. The seat was uncomfortably cold beneath her.
A shuffling sound made her freeze, straining her ears to hear. Maybe she’d imagined it? There it was again. Breath catching in her throat, she began to tremble involuntarily. What a time to be attacked, with her pants around her ankles. She should have checked the other cubicles. As quietly as possible, she stood, yanking her trousers up, though her numb fingers refused to fasten the button. Slowly, she lowered the toilet lid, cringing when it clinked gently, before climbing on top of it. Heart in her throat, she curled her fingers over the thin dividing wall and pushed up onto her tiptoes to peak over. Her heart skipped a beat.
A nest of creatures were curled up in an end cubicle. Most were asleep, their limbs twitching occasionally as they dreamed, eyes darting behind their lids. Briefly she thought that perhaps she could quietly creep out, but then she saw the source of the shuffling noise. One of the creatures, a young boy, crouched on all fours in the corridor between the cubicles, sniffing at the floor. It must have heard her... or maybe it smelt her – the thought made her shudder.
Cupping a hand over her mouth to muffle her heavy breathing she lowered herself down into a crouch on top of the toilet lid, her back pressed against the wall as her mind raced. Beneath the door she could see a small hand. It inched closer. A knock on the door made them both jump, the small hand jerking back. The creature snarled.
“Darcy, you almost done in there?” Alec called. A moment later, when she didn’t answer his voice rose, “Babe, you alright?” Don’t come in, she prayed, but even as she did so she knew he wouldn’t stay outside if he thought she was in danger. Still, she had to try.
“Don’t come in,” her words came out raspy from her dry throat. Swallowing tightly, she tried again, “Alec, don’t come in.”
“Why, what’s going on?” His voice was tight with barely restrained panic. The door began to creak open. The creature growled, crouching low on the floor as its white eyes fixed on the door.
“Don’t come in!” She repeated – the creatures head whipped around to face her. “Stay outside, I mean it. I can handle this.”
“Darcy...” There was a catch in his voice, a hesitation. The creatures growl rose in volume and the others began to stir, mewls of discontent filling the room.
“You’re making things worse.” There was a definite snap to her voice. “Close the door.” Silence stretched out for a long moment before the door clicked shut. A sigh of relief escaped her lips; she knew how hard it must have been for him to step back and trust her enough to force aside all his overprotective instincts, which had to be screaming for him to burst in all guns blazing.
She allowed herself that brief moment of relief, before she began searching desperately for an escape plan; she had told Alec she could handle it, but really she had no idea of how to get herself out of this mess. She had her gun, she touched the hard bulk in her pocket to reassure herself that it was still there, but she couldn’t shoot them all and the first shot was bound to wake the rest. Not only that, but she was reluctant to shoot the creature outside the door; he looked to be barely into double figures.
Standing back up, she peaked over the door, feeling it wobble precariously beneath her weight. As she watched the scene below an idea began to dawn. The corridor was narrow enough for the door to block it momentarily. If she could get the creature on one side and herself on the other she could gain a seconds head start. It was two, three steps to the door. It would be close. Everything inside her rejected the idea, shrivelling up in fear, even as she accepted that she had no other choice.
Biting her lower lip, she willed herself not to freeze up at the crucial moment; she couldn’t hesitate, she had to be quick. But first she had to get the creature to back up a few steps. Shrugging out of her hoodie, she balled it up and shoved her gun into the waistband of her jeans. Her arm felt heavy as she aimed the bundle, as if it were weighed down with lead. Closing her eyes, she dragged in a deep, shuddering breath and blew it back out. When she opened them once more, everything stood out in sharp definition. Her limbs no longer trembled. A numb calm settled over her. This was do or die. She threw the missile. It hit the far wall and fell to the floor. Immediately the creature was upon it, ripping it to shreds, growling and snarling like a rabid dog.
“Open the door!” She cried to Alec in the same moment, leaping down and thrusting open the door. Barrelling out, she almost tripped over her own feet in her haste. The barrier didn’t even give her a second. Crashing into it the creature flung itself at her with a vicious snarl. Slamming back on its hinges, the door ricocheted off the cubicle, crashing into the boy’s hip with enough force to send him careening into the toilet opposite. The entire bathroom shook.
The other creatures yowled, awakening.
The door screeched open.
Flinging herself out into the bright day light, Darcy scrambled to help Alec shut the heavy door on the nest of crazed animals hurtling towards them. Even as they slammed it shut, she saw the creatures shy away from the square patch of yellow light cast by the window.
Running towards the van, Alec dragged her along in his wake, his longer legs eating up the distance, his grip on her arm bruising. Both of them clambered in through the passenger side door. Looking across the parking lot, Darcy’s eyes fixed on the bathroom door shuddering in its frame, as Alec squeezed past her into the driver’s seat. Seconds later the engine roared to life and they were on their way, racing down the dirt track at a dangerous speed, being pelted by leaves and branches. What seemed like barely a minute later they turned onto a proper tarmac road with a screech of tyres.
“Are you alright?” Alec asked stiffly once they reached the motorway, his fingers wrapped so tightly around the steering wheel that the bones showed through.
“I’m fine,” she answered softly, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder, “not even a scratch.” His body tensed further, seeming to reject any offer of comfort. Dropping her hand back into her lap, she knotted her fingers together, looking down at them. Suddenly, she gave a burst of laughter; her fly was undone.
Startled, Alec looked over at her with a frown. “What the hell’s so funny? You almost died.”
“But I didn’t.” She twisted around to face him, tucking one leg beneath her on the seat. For a moment, he simply held her gaze before turning away, jaw clenched. When he didn’t say anything she frowned, turning her gaze to stare out of the window at the world going by.
After a few minutes of heavy silence, he said quietly, “I hate this. I feel so out of control. Back there, when you told me I was making it worse, I realized I can’t protect you, not really. We’ve been lucky so far, but one day our luck’s going to run out.”
Opening her mouth to say something, Darcy shut it again when she realized that there was nothing she could say because he was right.
Once home, Alec wasted no time erecting Mr Johnson’s greenhouse, having cleared away the remains of the old one and put it all into the van to take out and dump somewhere. The next day he put up the others, having acquired one for each house, and together they began reading up on which plants would grow in winter and what caring for them required from books Mr Johnson grudgingly leant them from his late wife’s collection.
