The Demon Inside, page 7
“Tell her we’ll meet her at her house,” Alec murmured and she glanced up at him, only now realizing that he had come to sit beside her, one hand warm on her knee. Relaying the message, to which Callie agreed, she hung up unwillingly, illogical though it was it felt as if the moment she severed the connection Callie would be in danger once more.
“So we’re goin’ on a road trip, are we?” Alec’s dad chuckled, slumping down on the sofa beside her, making the structure groan in protest.
“Who said you’re coming?” Alec snapped irritably, but with no real venom.
“Face it, boy, you need me,” he chuckled again, as if there was something amusing to be found in all this catastrophe, “what could you possibly know about surviving in hostile territory?”
“Hostile territory?” His son echoed the words in disbelief, “This is England, not Iraq.”
“Look outside... what’s the difference?”
Chapter Five
Leading them through the small apartment, his steps unsteady, Alec’s dad took them into his bedroom. It was only a little larger than Alec’s and stank of booze and sweat. It took him several tries to find the light switch, his fingers slipping over it, but no one attempted to help, they just stood silently in the dark, waiting. When he finally managed to flick the switch nothing happened. In unison they all looked up at the naked bulb hanging from the ceiling.
“Bulb’s out,” Alec stated unnecessarily.
“No matter,” his dad muttered, staggering around the bed and over to the window, jerking open the curtains to let the soft glow of the moon light the room. Shivering, Darcy slipped her hand into Alec, felt his fingers constrict around hers almost to the point of pain; with the night sky revealed she felt intensely vulnerable, as if one of those mysterious stars would suddenly fly through the sky towards them and smash through the glass.
“Here,” he exclaimed, yanking out the bottom draw beneath his wardrobe with a squeal and pulling away the blanket that covered its contents. Beside her Hope gasped and even Alec seemed vaguely shocked to see that he had a small armoury in his flat.
Completely unperturbed, his dad began to hand out an assortment of weapons. Thrusting a rifle and a lethal hunting knife at Alec, he glanced up at her and Hope’s appalled expressions and held a gun out to each of them, brows raised challengingly. For several moments no one moved and just when he was drawing the weapon back, a sneer twisting his lips, Darcy reached out and took it.
“Darcy,” Hope exclaimed, “you not actually going to shoot anyone?” Silently, she met her sister’s gaze and raised her chin defiantly. She would do what she had to. However, for all her bravado her fingers trembled around the weapon as Alec’s father showed her how to use it, his fingers trembling just as badly as hers but for an entirely different reason.
“You’re bleeding,” Darcy exclaimed suddenly, noticing the blood dripping down his leg to stain the carpet and realized that his uneven steps where not entirely due to intoxication; his right calf was bleeding profusely, his trousers shredded. A strip of material had been tied tightly above the wound in a makeshift tourniquet. Glancing down, as if he had forgotten that his leg had been torn to pieces, he briefly touched his fingertips to the mess of bloody flesh.
Gazing at his sticky fingers, he shrugged, “I’ve had worse.” Surprisingly, that didn’t make her feel any better.
“You need to go to a hospital,” Alec said quietly, brows drawn in concern.
“That is one of the places we avoid.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Alec’s voice rose in irritation, “you need to see a doctor before you bleed to death.”
“If I was taking over a place the first thing I’d hit would be the hospitals and official buildings, so the people are confused, don’t know where to turn for guidance and have nowhere to go if they’re injured.” Blinking, Darcy studied him with fresh eyes, despite the haze of alcohol, beneath it all he had a sharp mind befitting of the army officer he had once been.
“You make it sound like freakin’ aliens are attacking!” Alec threw his hands up in frustration, pacing across the room, his movements jerky in barely controlled anger.
“Things are fallin’ from the sky, boy, people are eatin’ each other. What do you think is going on?” No one answered; none of them could.
Alec had offered her a pair of his shoes, though they would be far too big for her, but his dad had vetoed the idea, saying that it would hinder their progress, and she was thankful that she had listened to him as they venture out into the hallway; her footsteps, smothered by a pair of his thick socks, were nearly silent on the hard floor.
The corridor was deserted, but any second now she expected something to appear in the stairwell. Heart thundering in her chest, she inched along behind Alec, all her sense on high alert. They got to the bottom of the stairs without incident, but just as they stepped out into the cool night air and the van came into sight, its white paint glowing faintly in the moonlight, a chilling scream echoed through the estate, bouncing off the harsh concrete walls. Freezing with his fingers curled around the door handle, Alec’s head whipped around, indecision flashing across his face.
Clapping a hand heavily on his shoulder, his dad said dispassionately, “They’re done for, nothin’ you can do.” Shoving off the hand, Alec made as if to go back into the building, but suddenly something flew from one of the top floors, maybe fifteen storeys up.
It looked like a fallen angel for a moment before it hit the ground with a wet thud. Vibrant scarlet blood immediately began to pool around the body. The girls hand twitched, reaching out towards them, as the life leeched from her eyes, leaving only empty blue orbs staring out at them.
“Get in the van.”
“Shouldn’t we do something?” Alec’s voice hitched slightly at the end and Darcy stepped forward to take his hand, squeezing tightly.
“She’s dead,” his dad said harshly, repeating, “get in the van.”
They drove in silence. The roads were practically empty. They caught glimpses of more carnage, but Darcy looked away, unable to bear more. Instead she watched Alec as he drove: his white knuckled grip on the wheel, jaw clenched so tight she was afraid it would shatter like glass, a wet sheen in his glowing green eyes. Tears slid silently down her own cheeks and she tasted salt on her lips.
Looking up at the sky, at the bolts of white light streaking across it, Darcy asked quietly, “Do you think it’s the end of the world?”
“Wouldn’t worry ‘bout that,” Mac reached over to clap her on the shoulder with bone jarring force that rattled her teeth, “remember when they said the world would end in 2012? That didn’t come to nothin’.”
Meeting Alec’s gaze in the mirror, a single sob escaped her as she saw the quiet despair in his eyes.
Callie wasn’t there when they pulled up outside her house, nor was Mrs Neville, thought the remains of the poor man she’d butchered where smeared across the road. She was coming, Darcy reassured herself, but still the fear inside of her rose until it smothered her. It didn’t help that her gaze kept drifting to the house next door, her house, where her parents lay massacred in the front room, their blood cooling around them. Glancing over, she caught Hope looking over at their childhood home.
“Hope...” she had to tell her, but the words died in her throat. She tried again, “Hope...” A squeal of tyres and the blaze of headlights in the rear-view mirror cut her off, a moment before Callie’s yellow mini rocked to a halt behind them, narrowly avoiding a collision. Scrambling over the other two passengers, Darcy shoved the door open and jumped out despite Alec’s protest, meeting her friend on the side walk. Tears coursed down Callie’s face and she flapped her hands in distress, clutching Darcy’s hands when she came within reach.
“I hit someone,” she gasped, “I hit someone as I was driving through the town. He ran out of nowhere. I didn’t see him. I just didn’t see him. I was going to stop but then there were these people and they started chasing me and they had these eyes and I just left him...”
“It’s alright,” Darcy grabbed her in a hug, seeing Alec hurry around the van towards them out of the corner of her eye, “you’re safe, that’s the main thing.”
A sob broke from her. “I just left him there to die. How could I do that?”
“I hate to break up this little reunion,” Alec’s dad jumped down and shut the van door, closing Hope inside alone, his injured leg buckled but he steadied himself with a hand on the side of the vehicle, “but could we do this somewhere else? We’re drawing unwanted attention.”
Following his gaze, Darcy dragged in an unsteady breath, reaching out to grip the bottom of Alec’s un-tucked shirt as he turned to look, too. White eyes stared unblinkingly back at them from the shadows of a nearby bush, looking out of a face which could be no more than twelve years old.
“She’s only a child,” Darcy murmured, but even as she spoke the words that child was licking her red lips, her eyes eager.
“She’s no longer human,” Alec’s dad stated coldly, levelling his rifle at the girl as she began to inch forward.
“You can’t shoot her,” Callie cried, totally appalled, but then maybe she hadn’t seen first-hand what these creatures did to the people they preyed upon, “she’s still a baby!” Darcy understood his point, still she was conflicted; everything in her rebelled at the mere idea of hurting an adolescent.
“Let’s go inside,” Darcy said, “Alec, please, let’s go.” She dreaded walking into Callie’s house and finding that the same scene awaited her friend as had awaited her, but still she tugged on his sleeve, pulling him towards the house, “Get Hope and let’s go inside.”
Grim faced, Alec looked down at her for a moment, before nodding tersely, “Okay.” Slowly easing open the van door, keeping his eye on the girl all the time, tense and ready for any sudden move on her part, he beckoned Hope out and shut the door quietly behind her.
“Slowly,” his dad cautioned in a rough whisper as he covered them. When they reached the front door, Callie fumbled with the keys, glancing back over her shoulder.
Once the door swung open, hitting the wall with jarring force, they all scrambled inside, waiting for Alec’s dad to follow them before slamming it shut, watching the girl through the glass panel as she crept up the path after them and sniffed around the porch. They all let out a sigh of relief when she sloped away into the shadows several minutes later.
They searched the house and found no sign of Callie’s parents. She, Callie and Hope changed clothes. Alec barricaded the front and back door. His dad sought out the drink cabinet. He sloshed a little vodka over his injury, before sewing it up, and drank the rest. They drew all the curtains. Alec made tea. And then they all sat huddled together in the living room, like shell shocked survivors just walking around in a numb daze.
“They’re dead, aren’t they?” Hope’s soft whisper broke the silence.
“Yes.” What else could she say? “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.”
“I know... I’m still sorry.”
Once more they lapsed into silence.
None of them slept that night, but nor did anyone speak. They sat in silence, in darkness, listening to the howls outside, each of them lost in their own thoughts, reflecting on how their lives had changed in the last few hours. The sun rose, they watched its progress through a crack in the curtains.
“What do we do now?” Darcy asked of nobody in particular.
“We can’t stay here,” Alec said after a long pause.
“We can’t leave,” Callie snapped immediately, her brown eyes furious, the fire burning away the tears that had reddened them through the night, “my parents might come back.”
His expression said that was doubtful, but he quickly banished it, glancing up at her friends stubbornly hopeful expression, sympathy flashing in his eyes. “Okay,” he nodded slightly, “we’ll stay a few more days if we can.”
“Thank you,” she replied stiffly.
They did stay for the next few days. In that time they found out very little about their situation; on the first day there were several more news reports on the television, but they told them nothing but what people had already gathered for themselves. Still, it was reassuring to see another face, to know that there were people alive out there, that they weren’t alone. But that comfort didn’t last long at all.
By the third day there were no more broadcasts – Darcy didn’t want to think about the reason why. Inside the house everyone was getting restless and tetchy, the shock having begun to wear off, though the loss was still a huge, empty hole in all their hearts. Alec’s dad, Mac, finished the vodka, whisky and brandy and moved onto the wine; with every noisy glug and slurp Darcy could see Alec’s jaw tightening. As if noticing his son’s irritation, Mac smacked his lips together in noisy relish. From where he sat across the room, with her sat curled in his lap, Alec’s fingers tightened on her waist momentarily before he blew out a breath and forced himself to relax inch by inch. She suspected he hadn’t been in the same room as his dad, for any significant period of time, in quite a while.
Mac let out a loud belch, looking down at the label on the bottle of red wine clenched in his meaty fist and smirked, “Good stuff. All the way from Oz. Real fancy.” A tick appeared in Alec’s jaw, as he stared resolutely ahead at the mauve wall. “Dang,” Mac swore and Darcy glanced over to see a large red patch expanding across the white carpet. It looked sickeningly like blood.
“Got any white wine,” he demanded of Callie.
“You already drank it,” Callie sniffed, her disgust obvious as she looked down her nose at him. For once Darcy couldn’t argue with her snobby behaviour.
“Well,” Mac huffed, “someone’s a bit up herself, let me tell you something, girly...”
“That’s enough,” Alec snapped, shoving to his feet so abruptly that she would have kissed the floor is he hadn’t caught her and sat her in the armchair. Striding across the room, he snatched the bottle away and marched purposefully into the kitchen, ignoring his dad’s angry protests as he staggered after him. Sharing a look, she and Callie hurried after them; curled up asleep on the sofa, one hand tucked under her chin, Hope was totally oblivious – she had been sleeping a lot lately, which may have worried Darcy, but considering the circumstances she thought that it was probably a good thing. Crowded in the doorway, they watched in stunned silence as Alec fended his dad off with one hand and went to pour the contents of the bottle down the sink.
“What ya doin’?” Mac was appalled as he tried to grab the bottle back, but Alec deftly avoided him, “We don’ waste that shit, boy!” Pausing, he looked at his dad for a moment before lifting the bottle to his lips and, holding the other man’s gaze, took a healthy swallow, and another, and another.
“Huh,” Callie sounded almost admiring, “didn’t think he had it in him.” Swigging the last bit, he held the bottle over the sink and tipping it up, showing that there was truly nothing left except the last few drops which clung to the rim before dripping into the sink. Quirking a brow challengingly, he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and flashed a feral, un-amused grin, his teeth stained faintly red.
Chapter Six
Every night they could hear animalistic howls from outside, they could see the creature’s silhouettes against the curtains as they paced around the house. At night they sat in constant fear that they would figure out how to get in – they retreated during the day; it seemed they were nocturnal creatures – and it was on the fifth night that their fears were tested.
A crash from outside startled Darcy awake from where she had been dozing with her head in Alec’s lap. Another crash. Bolting up, Alec grabbed the gun propped against the side of the sofa. Across the room his dad was already up, his gun cocked as he approached the window, cracking open the curtain and peering out. Tiptoeing after him, she squeezed in between the two men.
The moonlight illuminated the front lawn, bathing everything in a watery, silver glow. The creature’s eyes blazed in the light, as a group of them prowled around the street. One was knocking over the heavy stone plant pots lining the pathway. Another was perched on the front porch railing, looking straight at them, its head cocked speculatively to the side, a strange, predatory intelligence gleaming in those white eyes. They saw his intentions in his eyes a split second before he lurched forward.
Grabbing her around the waist, Alec flung them both backwards, falling into Callie who had crept up behind them. They all ended up in a tangled heap on the floor, scrambling backwards as the window shattered in a shower of glass. It was oddly beautiful for a moment, flying crystals glinting softly in the moonlight. A stray shard cut across her chin. A streak of red flashed across Alec’s cheek. A gunshot rattled the glass remaining in the frame and made her ears ring. Red blossomed across the creature’s chest and the force of it sent him flying backwards out of the window. But there was no time for relief, because more had taken its’ place. More shots rang out.
Pressed against Alec’s back, she could feel the recoil of his gun jerking through his body and into hers. It was no use; the creature’s continued to appear in a never ending stream, spilling through the windows in overwhelming numbers. Dragging her to her feet, Alec pushed her backwards, pulling Callie up by her sleeve.
“Hope,” Darcy jerked around, her eyes wide with panic, as he pushed them towards the door. “Hope!” Her voice sharpened at the sight of her sister standing frozen in the middle of the room, “Hope, let’s go.” Darcy just had time to see Mac grab her sister’s arm before she was propelled out of the living room door and into the hall.
“Upstairs,” Alec gave her a shove in that direction and she stumbled up the stairs, tripping over her own feet in her haste. Mac and Hope were hot on their heels, as they stormed into Callie’s bedroom on the third floor, slamming the door. The door rattled as the creature’s flung themselves against the flimsy barrier and the handle jangled. The bed squealed as they dragged it across the laminate floor. Bracing it against the door, they stood back, watching anxiously as the door continued to shake in its frame. They watched until the tremors began to die down.
