“That’s what I thought too. But it was well hidden. The owner, Dorran, is letting me stay with him.”
Again, Beth hesitated. “Is he a good sort of person?”
“Yes, don’t worry. He’s nice. And we have plenty of food—and a garden. Winterbourne was designed to be self-sufficient, and it’s hard to break into. I was lucky. Really lucky.”
“Be careful, Clare. Don’t trust him just because he’s friendly.”
Clare looked down at her hand, which was still enveloped in Dorran’s. She followed it along his arm, covered by the green knit sweater, and up to his face. Thick black hair, grown a little too long, framed a strong, reserved face. His dark eyes, shadowed under a heavy brow, smiled at her. She thought there was no one she trusted more.
“He’s good, I promise. You don’t need to worry about me. How are you doing there?”
“Holding up, at least.” A speck of hesitation flickered in Beth’s voice.
Clare frowned. “Are you sure? Do you have enough food and water?”
“Yes, that’s all fine. But the generator’s out. I’ve been trying to fix it, but it’s been a challenge without the lights.”
A chill ran through Clare. She pictured Beth, sitting in a dark box, having to feel her way through the space every time she needed food, the bathroom, or water. There would be nothing to see. Nothing to do. Just her, alone, listening to the seconds tick by.
“I’m doing fine, sweetheart.” Her voice took on the familiar hint of warning she used whenever Clare was doing something she didn’t approve of. “I have a torch. I’m using it judiciously—apparently an excess of batteries still isn’t enough—but I’m hardly suffering down here.”
Clare wasn’t sure if she could believe that, but she tried to keep her voice bright for Beth’s sake. “We can talk on the radio as much as you want. I can carry you around with me and keep you company.”
Beth laughed. “Oh, that would be fun. But I think it’s better if we keep our chats short.”
That was unexpected. “Why?”
“Ah…”
“Tell me, Beth.”
“Too much noise attracts them.”
Dorran’s fingers laced through Clare’s, trying to reassure her. She barely felt it. Her hands were turning numb. “The hollow ones?”
“Yeah.” Beth’s voice cracked. “I was the only person in my street who had a bunker.”
Clare understood. Without shelter, all of Beth’s neighbours would have been affected by the stillness.
Under the static’s crackles and her own too-fast breathing, Clare thought she heard another sound. The noise had dogged her for weeks, following her even into her sleep, and every fibre of her being revolted against it. Fingernails, digging. Clawing. Scratching. They were at Beth’s bunker door. They’d heard her and Clare. They were hungry.
Chapter Two
“We’ll get you out,” Clare said. The words left her before she could think them through, before she could even glance at Dorran for his agreement.
Beth snapped, “No! Clare, listen—”
“I can be there this afternoon.” Clare stood. She stared about the kitchen, frenzied, trying to piece together a plan. She didn’t have a car. Her little red vehicle was a crumpled wreck. But if she could get out of the forest, she was sure she could find some other form of transport. There would be street upon street of abandoned cars, their owners long gone.
As long as the temperature hasn’t frozen their engines too badly. As long as I can find the keys. As long as the snow isn’t too thick on the road—
“Clare.” Beth’s voice boomed through the hissing speakers, and Clare instantly froze. “Sit down.”
Beth only yelled when Clare was in trouble. It had been years since she’d last heard that tone, but it still held power over her. She meekly sank back into her seat, licked her lips, then tried again. “I can bring you back here, to Winterbourne. It’s safe. At least… safer.”
“No, you absolutely will not.” Beth’s voice softened until she only sounded snippy, not angry. “You said you had food there, didn’t you?”
Sort of. “Yes.”
“And shelter. You’re warm enough?”
“Yes. Firewood.”
“And that person you’re with. You’re sure he’s okay? He’s not strange or creepy or…”
Clare glanced at Dorran. Both hands clasped under his chin, he studiously watched the table, apparently not sure what to do with himself under her scrutiny. “He’s good.”
“Then you’ll stay there. It’s probably the safest you can be right now.”
“But if we can get you here, too—”
Beth sighed. “Clare, baby, it’s not going to happen. You must be hours away. There are hollows all up and down my street. If I try to leave, I’ll die. If you try to reach me, you’ll die. And how can you expect me to handle that?”
Clare closed her eyes. She took a moment to gather her thoughts. “You’ve been in there for two weeks. How much longer can you handle it? People aren’t designed to survive isolation that long—”
“I’m not completely isolated.” A thudding noise came through the speakers, and Clare pictured Beth tapping her radio. “I have this. I’ve been listening to the world. Humanity isn’t dead yet. People are trying to rally.”
“Do they know what happened?”
“No. There are endless theories. But none that make much sense.” Beth exhaled again.
Whenever Beth stopped speaking, Clare could hear the faint scratching noise. It seemed to be growing louder.
“After our phone call was disconnected, the news station I was watching lasted another four hours. They stopped updating the maps of the quiet zones and instead started listing places they still had contact with. Isn’t that horrible? It was faster to list the surviving cities than the lost ones. After each name, they posted the time they had last spoken to someone there. Gradually, the times for some cities grew further and further away… and eventually, they were taken off the list. Towards the end, they were talking about entire countries being gone.” Her voice was pained.
Clare bent close to the radio as the distortion worsened.
“One of the newscasters said he needed to get a glass of water and almost ran off the stage. The other followed about a minute later. Finally, it was just an intern—this miserable, dead-eyed kid—reading off a list of names from a piece of paper. I think his supervisor had told him to do it, and he didn’t know any better. Everyone else had left. Trying to flee somewhere. Trying to reach their families. It was just this kid on national TV, doing his best not to cry as he faced a camera in an empty studio. Then the building’s lights went out. I could hear the kid screaming. I don’t know why. Just scared? Or had the hollows gotten into the building? I don’t know. But that was the last news broadcast. I still have the TV in my bunker, and when the generator worked, I turned it on a few times a day and tried to find some kind of life through it. Nothing.”
Clare stared at her hands. Bandages wove around one, protecting her wrist. “You said there were still people out there, though.”