 
### SUNDOWNER

Book 1 of The Sky's Alight Trilogy

### Published by Tam Sturgeon at Smashwords

Copyright Tam Sturgeon 2018

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed within it are

the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or deceased, or any events

mentioned is entirely coincidental.

### Tam Sturgeon asserts the moral right to

be identified as the author of this work.

### Cover imagery courtesy of the author.

### Cover design by Tam Sturgeon.

### Copyright Tam Sturgeon 2018

### ~

### Sundowner

### PART ONE - Day 1

GROUND ZERO

New Year's Day: 2018: The Chilterns.

A distant rumble irked him from his sweet dream of robbing something he wanted off someone else. Though his eyes never fully opened, Bret was aware of that which he heard through the shift of stagnant air around him. He could feel it sometimes, as though someone encroached on his personal space.

'Shut up, you noisy sod, can't you see I'm trying to sleep,' was snapped at the other man in the room, through gritted teeth.

'It weren't me, bro ... There's something going on outside ... I heard screaming in the street out front, and other stuff too, bad stuff ... That's why I came back down here ... No way was I taking a look. What you don't see, don't hurt you ... Ain't that what the old man used to say?' was a mumbled reply from his twin brother, Craig, who'd been for a pee and was gone ages.

In the moment he went to speak again it happened. The interruption, as powerful as a moon imploding, rocked the deserted hotel above them. Dislodged pieces of plaster dropped from the ceiling in time to the commotion beyond their basement squat. Glass was heard fragmenting into large and small shards, as deadly as flying blades. Bricks lifted from their foundations, shifted a little, then landed with all the force of earth crust displacement. A bright light slashed a white line across their frightened eyes as another impact split the soil, nearer, deeper, right to the roots of their home underground.

They landed in a heap together, blown across the dusty space as the facade crashed at their feet, half the street with it. Scrambling for the exit at the same time, they butted foreheads and dragged at each other's coats in a bid to be first along that corridor. Right and up the stairs, onto the ground floor, across the old reception, and into the kitchen, beyond, they manically scrambled, eager to be away from what lay behind them, buried in all the rubble.

Raging fires, miles wide and taking the whole town with it, greeted them as they burst through the back door and into the sunlight. Panic swept them both along, the madness at fever pitch. Those stunned by the most recent flash of fire wandered, dreamlike, in the street, their minds not able to comprehend the changes to life around them. Children cried, dogs barked, people looted and screamed, the craziness colliding on every corner.

It made Bret smile, as they ran, dodging crashed cars and frightened people. Heading up the next road off the bend, he already knew where he was heading.

'Bret,' Craig called from behind, 'you thinking what I'm thinking?' was laughed over the noise.

His twin brother replied with, 'Fancy a beer? Nah, make that a bag a beer,' as he headed towards the corner shop he often took advantage of.

There was no one in, the closed sign showing through the glass door. It didn't remain that way for long. Taking a look around revealed a few bricks against the edge of the curb, acting as a makeshift ramp. Bret bent and snatched one up into his hand, bouncing it a few times in his palm to get the feel of it.

'Yeah,' he grinned broadly, 'that'll do nicely.'

They both chuckled at the sound of breaking glass, especially when there were ample rewards on the other side of it. As it imploded, the debris scattering the floor along with the chunk of brown clay, they stepped in and helped themselves. Carrier bags were filled to capacity, nothing left off the list. In the time it took Craig to fill one, Bret had two in one hand and one in the other.

'This is your only warning ... Get the feck away from my stock, you thieving toe-rag,' barked the voice from the corner of the room.

Both boys looked at each other and then in the direction of a small set of stairs. The owner, accommodated in the flat above, had already phoned the police, but it was engaged. Something was happening out there and it wasn't good, the explosive wall of passing flame enough to put everyone on edge.

Head and hand signals flitted between the two siblings as they moved, in silence, across the shop. Bret did all the talking, as usual.

'Look, I'm sorry, I don't want any trouble, I just need baby milk and nappies,' he lied, holding two bags of mixed liquor and one of random snacks. 'I'll leave the money on the counter, right where you can see it, okay ... I'm sorry for the window, really I am ...'

Whilst he was dealing with that, Craig was circling around towards the creaking behind the curtain. Having picked up the brick, he edged his way onwards.

'I don't care about the bloody window, you don't take my stock ... I rang the police, they'll be here soon ... I have a weapon and I'll use it,' was then barked back, the voice, that of a man.

'Okay, okay ... I'll put it back ... Sorry,' Bret grinned, as his brother reached his target.

Craig moved in as his brother finished his sentence. He was around that curtain and clubbing the owner in the face and head before the poor chap even knew what hit him. The old boy never stood a chance, which he knew, seeing as his weapon was a feeble floor mop. So, on it went, hit after hit, the sound getting soggier by the second.

'Whoa there, bro, don't make a mess of your nice shirt ... You'll only moan if you can't get the stain out,' was said as Bret snatched at Craig's arm and dragged him back.

Craig stood and flicked his long fringe aside, then racked a bloody hand though it to banish it from his eyes.

'Oops,' he smiled, looking at his hand, 'that'll be a bitch to get out from under my nails ... Wonder if he has any hand wipes or sanitizer ...'

Bret was heading for the door, a fat cigar hanging from his lips. When he turned and threw a packet at his brother his bags clinked by his calves.

Craig caught it and looked down into his palm, smirking to himself.

'You cheeky sod, now you tell me,' he grinned, throwing them back the way they'd come, not overly impressed with the fuzzy cuffed, leopard print, washing-up gloves.

They exited as they had entered, via the broken window. Stepping out onto the pavement showed them a whole new world, one of total anarchy and destruction, taking and using. Smiling at each other, they turned and walked away, drinking their first beer of the day and chomping on their newly obtained chocolaty treats. All was fresh and all was different, and they liked it, very much. Suddenly they felt they belonged, which they really liked too, and with so much on offer, how could they possibly not.

She knew, in the moment she heard those cries behind her, she knew. Running in the opposite direction, away from the sudden outbreak of screams, was the only way to avoid what was to follow. She ripped passed colleagues, pushing them aside. She bounced off the Customer Services Manager, who dropped, crying, to the floor, distraught at someone stepping on his new phone.

Making for the exit, Katrina didn't risk the elevators. Being stuck in there with people she hated would be the worst form of death. Via the stairs she would escape, get to her car, thereby avoiding whatever was vanishing away a large portion of her former colleagues. Down and into the basement car park, that was the plan, in and gone. There was a mild chance her hunch would pay off, whether it was a dead cert was yet to be seen.

People jostled within the cramped space, their muted screams for help cascading down from above. The overhead lights flashed twice before semidarkness consumed them all. Emergency backup generators immediately kicked in, their feeble yellow glow just enough to aid the constant movement of the panicked masses.

Around her, a hundred people scrambled the descending spiral, all with that same thought. The burn to be gone was their driving force, as it was with her, and they too were being forced along by that never failing need to escape certain death. It was hunting the ones behind, where it held to the shadows and dragged them into the dark.

A crippling explosion rocked the building, more screams followed, then more flickering. Fine dust filtered down, seen through the soft glow. Everyone stopped, suddenly total silence, a few whispered voices where heard, a mumble from above and below. Eyes flicked, neighbour to neighbour, heads nodded as ears focused on what was happening beyond their stairwell walls.

It started at the top and slowly picked its way through the debris of office desk and scattered paperwork. Consuming those who would dare stand to fight, its method of spring cleaning was one to behold for being so effective, such as no homo sapien would ever relive. Little energy was required to achieve the highest level of purification, an action that was essential to uphold. Those at the top of the stairs, they saw it, they saw all of it and, in the second that first scream was released, it saw them too.

Panic trickled its way down the stairs, they fell as they ran, rolling over others, as ants away from fire. Tripping over the soft bodied carpet beneath, they slid, stumbling, just to get away. From above came a tide of gargled pleads, sounding raw and demanding, but then they were lost to something else, something far more disturbing.

It came soon after the wall of flame, to slide down the walls, to drip from the ceiling, and to coil its way around the banister. As it trapped them in its tendrils it sucked them into the black tide, dragging them from the light, off, into the shadows thereafter.

Bursting through the door onto her parking level, only to get winded from running that fast, her car keys were in her hand, ready for action. Her pink bug sat in its usual stop, awaiting her quick getaway, its bright colour seen from any distance. Bleeping it unlocked, she was in and started before that thing appeared, whatever the hell it was.

As it took the woman in the nice grey suit, Katrina was racing herself up the ramp and into the light, the only place she was really safe. Behind her, down below, it ran the concrete walls, its fingers plugging all the gaps and all the cracks with its oily thickness.

Not beyond, not that far, it knew to stay back. It was brave for a second, almost defying what sat out there. Sulking in the burn was having a nice effect. Had it a liking for being harmed, to know what pain was, then to let it linger, before slowly retracting, back and away, always back and away, always into the shadows?

She didn't get far, it was chaos. Crashed cars and heavy goods vehicles burnt against buildings and each other, and people were arguing in the road as fights broke out. There was screaming everywhere, and lots of crying as property burnt, it was complete hell on the highroad, and she had to go, ASAP.

In two and a half inch heeled court shoes she fumbled along as quickly as she could. To get away from the madness, that was her plan. Driving to safety had suddenly become a nonstarter, so she had to rethink on the run, and rethink fast.

Heading towards the main road that led out of the trading estate, she turned towards the town, down the hill. Freezing in her tracks, she stopped breathing. With a hand lifting to her mouth, she took in what were mere remains. There was no town, there was no main road towards it, it was a bombsite, and it was most definitely Ground Zero.

More fires raged as the toxic smoke filtered toward the heavens, a black shroud full of the lost, going skyward, to a better place maybe. Her misty eyes focused on the vastness of it, how much had gone, the church, the town centre, the hospital too, all of it, in ruins, as if some miserable big kid had come along and kicked down the sandcastle, prior to stomping on it.

Both hands covered her face. It had all gone. Her home, her road, and her parents too, probably. All that had been down there, over by the park, the lovely park that wasn't there anymore. It was a ragged basin suddenly, scorched, with all the trees gone, as if swept away by a huge invisible hand, as quick as that.

Looking behind her, towards the only available route out of that hellhole, she saw the people-carrier with its passenger front and back door open. Katrina ran for it, hoping the keys would be in place, which they were. Running to the driver's side, she almost jumped in, but didn't straight away. A smiling toddler sat in a kid's seat in the back. His mop of brown hair almost covered his blue eyes, as he sat looking at the stranger, his mini fist in his mouth.

Quickly looking in the direction of the house, it was obvious that the owners of kid and car were loading up to make a hasty getaway. She, thinking only of Katrina, hit the release button holding the small person in place. Lifting him out, he was placed in a sunny spot on their driveway, his little fist still in his drooling mouth, his rucksack set down beside him.

Hurried voices were heard shouting orders, his parents grabbing what they could, happy in the thought their offspring was safely strapped in and ready to roll. Sadly, that was not the case. As they loaded bags onto their backs, and hauled their arses out of there, Katrina was in and away, the rubber left as streaks along their suburban street.

JD had survived. He wasn't sure how, he wasn't sure when, but he was alive. This he knew, in the second that silent scream ripped through him as he lifted from the remains, no, ashes, of those that had shielded him from the wall of fire. He shook his head, his ears still ringing, to remember, to remove dust, to feel something, anything. Okay, it was still attached to his body. Unlike the man over there, where was his head?

He'd heard it, felt the heat-wave even, but he couldn't tell you what it was that had shredded all those people. They were there one second, gone the next, as quick as that, just like popping a pill, and with exactly the same vile aftertaste. Inside he laughed at the madness of it all.

Once standing and steady he surveyed his devastated surroundings. What had once been a huge shopping centre had suddenly been reduced, and not only in price. The glass dome roof had vanished, along with most of the two upper floors. Silence ran the circle of seats, no shopper to be seen there then, holding a coffee, eating a chicken wrap, or taking a call from the friend running late.

JD remembered where the exit was, but most of the building was missing so any gaping hole was as good as any. Heading towards the nearest point of light he paused to listen. Knowing better than to make himself heard, he moved quietly around the remains of so many, hoping beyond the walls would be a friendly face or a saviour awaiting him. No walking, talking, music, or sound, nothing. Just JD, stood all alone, looking at the carnage around him, looking to the open sky above him, and wanting to not be there in that hall of ghosts.

'HELLO ... Can anyone hear me? ... HELLO ... ANYBODY ... We've stuck down here ... Can anyone up there hear me ... HELLO ...'

Doug's face pulled back from the half broken window. It had once belonged to the Number 200 bus that ran every twenty minutes, but was currently down a huge hole in the road with a lorry and two cars stacked on top. What worried Doug was the smell of fuel. It was leaking from most of the vehicles above them, falling as if a horribly scented drizzle that soaked to the very skin, then burnt a little. His face was awash with it, it was everywhere.

He'd already had words with a youth sat near the front of the upturned means of public transport. As they were rendered pretty screwed the kid had decided to roll a smoke. Doug had pointed at the no smoking sign. The kid had laughed at him. Doug had then splashed the dripping liquid over him and then told him to light it, see what happened. The smoke was then tossed to one side, the kid staying quiet for the foreseeable future, the scowl on his face never changing.

Everyone had had been injured in various ways and at different levels, one quite badly, and was losing a lot of blood, the rest being walking wounded. The bus driver suffered a mild panic attack at the sight of so much bright red, he checked on the others instead, found bottled water from somewhere, and managed to calm down in the end. His name was Ben, and he wasn't having a good day.

'Is she going to be okay?' he asked, talking about the elderly lady leaking all over the coats they'd collected.

Doug turned her way as he smiled, 'Nope, not if we don't get her out of here soon ... The lady with her, Karen, she has some first aid training and has managed to stop most of the bleeding ... Moving her is another thing ... First we need a way out ... And the only way is up ...'

'So, I've emptied all the shopping bags of bottled water and food, but we'll be through that by tomorrow morning ... People will need the bathroom too, plus none of our phones are working ... And, now, I'm sitting on the inside roof of my bus, because it's upside down in a massive hole, with a pile of crap sat on top of it ... I knew I should have thrown a sickie ... I hate New Year's Day,' he half smiled.

Ben couldn't describe what had just happened, what that bright light was, or where it had come from. All had screamed as they rolled and tumbled, blown as if a leaf on the breeze. Then the falling, to the roof, to the darkness beneath, the crashing and creaking, the screaming, from above or below, they could not tell. Then silence. No more crying, no more pleading, just that high pitched drone that ran through their heads and made their ears numb.

Those that could move did, mainly to attend to the bruised and broken. Old Misses Portman, she was broken, inside and out. Doug watched her face change as the younger woman, Karen, stepped in and did all she could. They knew, they both knew.

Sadly, her pale features and shallow breathing were enough of a clue as to the coming hours of her last trip. That old lady would be leaving at the next stop, the one they'd just rolled over. Whether it was her stop or not her journey was done.

'Yeah, I'd just finished work, was on my way home ... So much for a quiet night in, aye! ... Oh, well ... Happy New Year, mate,' Doug chuckled in reply.

It ran out of petrol on the hill leading down to the motorway. It was a cold, crisp, but sunny day, for a New Year's Day, the one she should never have agreed to work. Having said that, if she had stayed home she'd be dead, so it wasn't all bad news, was it?

Katrina thought of her parents and her dog, wondered if they'd survived whatever had hit to that extent. One thing had occurred to her. If it was a nuclear weapon, where was the fallout? Why wasn't it snowing ash on her? How come it was a gorgeous day, although a little nippy in the shade?

On a muddy track, which led her through the trees to a small village, it occurred to her that her luxury fitted wardrobe was no longer an option. In her skirted office wear and black court shoes, it seemed a long walk to find people who would help her. Maybe some villagers would take her in and feed her, maybe let her stay until it was all cleared up and back to normal again. When she finally hit the first house, she came to see her latest great idea was probably no longer an option.

The lovely cottages of sand coloured stone stood empty, doors closed, curtains pulled. Cars sat in drives, nothing in the road, not a cat, a dog or person. No calling hello, no shouting, no radios, nothing. From one extreme to the other, from chaos to complete calm. Where was everyone? Why weren't these people in panic mode as they were everywhere else?

It wasn't right. Walking the silent road was wrong in all its forms. It made no sense, but was it meant to? That's when she heard it, the dull thumping noise. It seemed to be all around her at once, first one, then a few, and then a cacophony of them.

Stopping in her tracks, her hands lifted to shield her eyes from the low sunlight. She blinked, her pale orbs focusing on the pretty homes either side of her.

Christ Almighty, it was kids, horrible, stinky kids. They were pounding double glazed windows with their mucky mitts, the percussion haunting in such a silent world. The crescendo built, and with it came a low howl of crying, pleading voices, a chorus from the contained, their song a sad wail to see in a New Year.

Everywhere she looked she heard it. It was all over the place, that noise, that bloody awful noise. It was animals trapped, that's what it was. They were clawing to be free of their confines, locked in to keep them safe, away from harm, away from death. Theirs had suddenly become a slow one, long and drawn out, an opera of loss, bleating and blubbering.

Katrina hated it, she hated them, she hated their faces, their sound, and the articles they, themselves, were. Children, they were horrible, they were germ ridden, snotty little tykes. Most were born to be sneaky little bitches and backstabbers. All were a waste of well-earned money and precious time, they talked back, were rude, and most of all, whatever you had, they wanted. To Katrina, children, anyone's children anywhere, were not part of her plan.

Leaving it behind wasn't hard, the further away she walked the less she heard. It was easy really, there was only one road to follow, straight through, and that's what she did. She walked straight through, head up, eyes forward, away from it all.

'Okay, you stupid bunch of babies, don't say thanks for saving you ... Instead, tell me about the ones that aren't here, right now, protecting us, then tell me what to do when you all start crying for them ... Tell me about how this'll get better and how it'll all be over soon ... Go on ... SAY IT ...'

Those angry words burst from the moody teenager as she paced in a circle, hot enough to fill the room and make their faces burn. The small group of younger kids said nothing, startled by her spontaneous outburst, their immature eyes dropping to their feet, or to the slatted windows, through which the watery sunlight presented strips of its pale self.

She slowly turned, her features seeming sad in the low light.

'I know you miss your parents, I miss mine too, I know you're scared, I am too ... I don't know what happened, just the same as you ... Right now, there's just us, we're it, and until we work out what the hell's going on ... We stick together, right, no questions, working as a team ...'

Only one spoke, her younger brother by three years, Connor. He was a tall kid for his age, just turned thirteen, and had a mop of dark hair covering his dark eyes.

'Tally,' he smiled, his left hand swiping his fringe to one side, 'can we stop here for a while, please? ... My left trainer is so trashed I keep getting stones in it ... I need to find some heavy duty tape, or some new ones ... If it rains, my toes'll turn to white prunes when my socks start foaming.'

He tried to smile at the end of his sentence, but his older sibling wasn't listening. She had that look on her face again, the one that said she was in that other world, the one that was silent and blurry, the one where she saw things.

Her face snapped round to focus on the windows to the front of the abandoned property. Bright eyes assessed the situation, a fine sweat smearing her hair to her temple. Breathing in slight gasps helped her see further, beyond the glass, beyond the shadowed trees and into the space that lingered on the very edge of the small village. When she finally spoke, her words were but a mumble.

'We have to leave, now ... Grab your stuff, guys,' Tally almost whispered in a monotone voice. 'It's coming ...'

JD hated one thing more than anything, being on his own, all alone and stranded. He wasn't that old, only seven, but it was a weird thing, not having anyone to tell you what to do and when to do it. Having clambered through the remains of what was once a Toys R Us, he popped into the clean air, with the sun above and the birds singing and the nice light breeze. Sadly, as previously hoped, there were no flashing lights or comforting voices, or a warm blanket to be wrapped in. No one was there, no one. There were lots of burnt cars, lots of debris and rubble, but there wasn't a single soul to welcome him back to the land of the living, not one.

He stood in the car park and studied the surrounding mess. Cars were flattened charred versions of their former selves. Some were squashed into a puzzled pile, melted and empty, seats and people all gone. No bones, no bodies, just no longer there. An odd aroma tainted the air, it was a raw smell, something he'd not smelt before, something not very nice, it was a sour smell, oily, that stuck in the back of JD's throat. He knew one thing. He didn't like it, not one bit.

Walking away from the ruins, the fading smoke and the fading smell, his mind tried to think of all the things he must do. Find a way home, yes, but he'd need food and water too, it was a long walk, so they were a must, and because it might take all day and all night, he'd need shelter, another must on the lonely road.

It helped take away the other things in his head, the things that didn't make sense, and the things he didn't want to think about. Food was always a good topic, and he wasn't fussy, food was food, and if it smelt nice then he'd eat it, if it didn't smell at all, or smelt funny, he didn't, that was his rule. It had to smell nice, or of something. If it didn't, he didn't touch it.

Being careful in a quiet world seemed silly, but when you are alone, really alone, it starts to make sense. JD almost ambled along, almost. He was aware of the lack of noise, he was aware that every move he made was making noise, but he was also aware that no one was there to react to that noise. Making vocal contact seemed a waste of effort too. Why do it when no one would reply?

Finding a landmark he knew was the hardest of all his tasks that day. Streets weren't streets, buildings had moved, even the park had gone. Stumps, not trees, popped up along the way, one of which he peed against quickly. Well, no one was watching, and he really needed to go. Heading towards home seemed impossible. What direction was it in, down which road, where?

JD sat down in the dust and hung his head in misery. The weight of the day crashed down around him, the memory of the horrible event making his heart ache all over again. He shook his head, side to side, to rattle it away. Back to the world and its gentle breeze, a slightly better place to be.

All his thoughts tumbled through at once, trying to be seen first. A couple were fretted over, for a second or two, before being ejected by another. He felt numb, lost, forgotten. Abandoned and drifting through a world that was born from destruction, it's nothingness a new way of life and one with lots of solitude and loneliness, he wondered where it would lead him next. With the afternoon rapidly moving towards evening, four walls and a roof suddenly became a priority, and food, mmm, food. Back to that thought again, one which he preferred over trying to make sense of what lay around him.

Climbing to the top of his next obstacle, which might once have been a large building but now resembled a pile of trashed toy blocks all chewed up and spat out, his eyes cast over the view that spread into the distance before him. Mangled wrecks leant against shattered walls, and there were holes, cracks, smoke and fire. Petrol pumps exploded as water mains gushed from the gaps in the pavement. Uprooted roads zigzagged away towards more rubble, or a twisted lorry, or the melted remains of something that was warped and smelt funny.

Clambering down, patch by precarious patch, he made his way to the fountain of clean water. He wasted a little time catching it in his mouth as it cascaded down to create a clean spot in the road. Getting wet wasn't an issue. Okay, it was a pretty cold day, but it was very sunny too, so he would dry soon enough, he wasn't worried about that. What did worry him was getting home, which seemed a million miles away.

He'd only lost one, just one, so others were out there, so he had to find them. First, he needed food, mmm, food. Remember, food and shelter, they were his priorities, and as the warm sun angled its way further west, he knew he had to find them soon.

JD saw the half standing shop across the flat space from over by a car on its roof. He held back, looking and listening, his nose sniffing the air, his eyes checking for changes, and all his senses on high alert. When he was more than sure, his edged his way out of his hiding space to quickly cross to the open door. The back of the property was missing, as were the places to the rear, the garages included. Everything was very quiet, everything was very still.

Tentatively he moved over the threshold, watching where his feet landed, trying to be as quiet as he could. The slightest crunch came as a crescendo, the volume turned right up so it echoed and hung in the air, the lack of everyday noise almost amplifying it. With the tempting goods in sight, scattered across the floor and there for the taking, he dived in, ripping at packets, stuffing his cheeks, swallowing fast, before his chomping started again. In fear he might be reprimanded, or dragged away by the police, his manic munching continued until he felt something, a cold something, and it wasn't a very nice something at all.

Taking a look towards the entrance, it occurred to him to head towards the back where the rear walls were missing. Picking his way up and out, he briefly glanced over his shoulder, his speed to be gone more important than checking for what lay behind.

Was there someone, or something, or was it just a silly shadow thrown down by the fading light? That sudden chill across his neck, he'd not felt that before, not even on a cold and sunny day, no, no chill there, not in the sunshine anyway.

Turning away he tried not to think about it. Whoever or whatever it was, it wasn't his priority. Food had been shovelled in, water had refreshed, and sleep was well on its way. Next, find somewhere to crash for the night, somewhere safe, somewhere he wouldn't freeze to death, and somewhere, preferably, where that nasty feeling could never reach him again.

'Right ... That's it ... I'm done with sitting down here with all you losers, I need a piss, and I need a smoke ... Screw this crap, I'm bailing on you bitches, see if I don't,' was a collection of loud words, which suddenly exploded from the youth, who had previously been sat to the rear of the bus.

This delightful young man went by the nickname Yoyo, because his mates said he was up and down all the time.

Doug would have got up to punch his lights out but for two reasons. Firstly, the young man had a point, getting out was going nowhere and, secondly, the kid moved so fast he was beyond Doug, and heading for the rear windows, before he could lift from his spot on the ceiling.

As Doug charged after him, Yoyo high-kicked and hit the clear plate at full speed. The blast of shards flew in all directions, the safety glass splintering under the impact. The noise was enough to numb ears and bend knees, the drone bouncing back with an added crystal shower.

Landing, facedown, at Doug's feet, the kid shook his head before turning onto his side to check out his fast footwork. He had achieved his objective, of that he could be sure, leaving one small problem. Not only had it given them a big opening to leave by, it had also given the flammable liquid a big space to enter by. It poured down into the upturned bus, a waterfall of it. All that had sat above was now streaming below, straight onto them, and filling the cramped space around them.

'Well done,' Doug barked at the twit in a heap, 'that was a really clever thing to do ... Must of taken you sodding ages to think that one up ... Why d'ya think I didn't do it, you bloody moron ...'

Yoyo pulled himself to his feet within the waterfall of oily fuel, his job done. There was a sort of smile. It was probably more a grimace than a grin. All the same, it was rather funny, him taking off like that and then crashing in the way he had.

'Hey, dude, no need to be all nasty with the negative vibes, we got a way out ain't we? ... Look,' he pointed, 'there's a space to climb up ... We can use the bumpers of the crap above to make it to the surface ... I'll go first if you want, see who's up there ... Maybe grab some help for the old lady over there ...'

'... Doug ...'

He turned with Yoyo, at the sound of Karen's voice, and looked back towards the small group up the other end. The expression that swept over her face was enough to confirm his most feared thought. Slowly walking towards them, a jacket was gently laid to rest over the elderly lady's face, her journey forever at an end.

A few silent words were said by all, Yoyo included. There was no weeping for the stranger, though misty eyes did turn away instead, as prayers were mumbled and wishes silently cast.

The afternoon had drifted away from her, she noticed, as the sun started to touch the top of the distant trees. No traffic on the M40 motorway for a change, no bustle, no toots. No cars whipped by her down the narrow country lane, there was no jumping into the hedgerow, no cyclists hogging the tarmac, and no dog walkers ambling the long way home via the pub.

Where was she going again? Why was she heading towards Oxford?

Coming to a halt, in the middle of the road, her hands lifted to her waist. Looking behind and before her, her breaths slowed as she tried to remember the original escape plan, formed whilst beating the crush in the office stairwell.

Okay, she needed a safe shelter, food, better clothes and decent footwear. Not understanding what she was up against, she had learnt a couple of things about whatever that was back there, in the dark. It didn't like the light, it took its time, it was all consuming, which was the worst part, the way those people disappeared, there one second, then zapped and gone the next.

That was it. She was heading towards her Aunt Bea's house. She lived in a rather grand place out in the sticks, nice and safe, lots of supplies, spare clothes too. Katrina just had to get her bearings, she was sure she wasn't that far from it. If it still had four walls and a roof she'd be happy, anything above that was a bonus.

Over the previous mile of her journey she had recalled her aunt's larder, always crammed with tubs and tins of nice treats and tarts, the pickles and preserves, the chutneys and cordials. As a child, she stayed there most summers, out of town, running wild through the meadows for weeks on end. Plenty to do, with loads to entertain her, there was never a dull moment, and would therefore forever remain part of her most treasured of memories.

Her old Uncle Max, he was lovely, and helped her build a small house up the in the branches of the spread oak. It had been struck by a flying garage door, back in the storm of 1968, and split straight down the middle, thereby peeling it into two halves. Amazingly, it didn't die. The two parts kept right on growing, as twins from one tree, and so became known as The Spread Oak, with its two long arms bending down to touch the soft soil beneath its forever spreading roots.

A great homecoming it seemed. Her, in her dusty shirt and skirt, her jacket tattered, her shoes beyond repair and caked in mud. Glad of not having her bag, the temptation to check her hair in her mirror would have been too great, and a true shock when first seen. Automatically her hand racked through her messy mousy hair, the fringe forced to one side, the grit felt between her fingers.

Soon enough she would be able to wash it all away, dress in clean clothes, and eat lots of food. After which she planned on snuggling up with a bottle of her aunt's elderflower wine, whilst enjoying an open fire and a good book. Well, it was all there, just waiting, all she had to do was get a move on and reach it, hopefully, before it got dark.

A cottage appeared, standing by itself, set back from the road a little. From where she stopped to look up the drive, she could see the array of various discarded footwear, piled up and abandoned in the vestibule porch. Tentatively, she walked towards it, her eyes scanning around her.

A big crossbreed dog lunged at the front room window, barking hysterically at her through the small panes of diamond shaped glass. It scared the life out of her, her hands to her mouth to force her scream back down. With the amount of noise the hound was making, she didn't need to add to that.

A pair of blue walking boots caught her eye. Pulling the woollen socks from within, she sized them against her stocking clad foot. Amazing, and with socks to go, it couldn't have worked out any better. Sitting in the porch, as the dog blared off in the background, her new acquisitions were put in place, stood up in, and wandered around in. With no pinching, they were worn-in to perfection. She smiled, slowly. They were a nice colour too. Katrina was ready to roll and, suddenly, she was a lot happier than she had been earlier because, sometimes, it's all about the little things.

The dog was still doing its nut as she moved back to the lane and back to her onward journey. Not far now, over the junction up ahead, then along a bit, before hitting the path through the woods, then another half hour, if that, and she was done. Hurrying away, the evening shadows were trawling towards her, and her aunt's couldn't come into view soon enough for her liking.

Doubling her pace, she fled for her Nirvana. There, she would blaze a hundred candles if the lights didn't work, there, she could chase all the darkness away, leaving no corner unlit. That was another part of her plan, to not be left in the dark. That's where that thing came from, that's where it lived and, as far as she was concerned, that's where it could bloody well stay there. Shadows were not aloud, and that was the most important part of her plan so far.

'Why don't they like us? Did we do something to make them grumpy? I'm sorry if we did,' chatted the little girl. 'Who are they, Tally, are they here to zap us with their ray guns?'

Her name was Betsy, but everyone called her Moo, because she always clutched that toy cow to her chest. She was six years old and very inquisitive.

It was creeping towards twilight as the little troop trundled their way along that lonesome road, going nowhere it seemed, as their strength ebbed away. The smallest had bawled themselves quiet again, their blotchy faces half hidden behind whatever it was they carried in their hand.

'I don't know who or why, but they haven't zapped us yet, have they? ... It might be nobody, or it might just be some old meanie, like the woman you told me about back there ... What I do know is, we must stay ahead of them to win, Moo, so they never zap us,' Tally tried to smile, her face looking down at the child whose hand she held, then squeezed gently as they walked.

'... So, you won't let them zap us, and we haven't been naughty?' Moo questioned dreamily, her eyes drifting to the green field beside her.

'No, Moo, I will never, ever, let anything zap any of you, I promise ... And, no, you've all been really brave and really good, and I'm so proud of you all, really, I am ...'

So, then came the little girl's next question, and it was the hardest one to answer by far.

'Do they want to do the same to us as they did to my Mummy and Daddy?' Moo then asked, her face edging towards a small cry, but she held it back, because she was so very brave.

Tally stopped walking, to answer her and to wait for the others.

'Maybe, who knows ... Sadly, those things, whatever they are, they're not here to help us, that much I do know ... So, we have to keep moving to stay safe, we have to, that's all there is right now, sorry, Moo,' she crooned, not only to the youngster beside her, but to the whole sad looking group.

Connor gazed around him as he took a mouthful of water from his drinking bottle. The dusky countryside was very quiet, just birds, cows and sheep, little else. It seemed eerie to him, the lack of noise, no cars, no traffic, no planes or trains. It was bad enough back there, but it seemed wrong in the country. Where were the tractors and muck-spreaders? Animals grazed and birds foraged, same as before, same as ever. Nothing had really changed in nature. The only difference being most of the adults were gone.

'Hey, sis, look,' he called, 'there's a house up there ... Reckon we can rest for the night? Jamie's getting really heavy, I can't carry him anymore ... I'm begging, think of my poor trainer if nothing else, it's dying here ... Please ...'

He slowly smiled as Tally looked towards the large building, nestled on the top of its hill. No words were exchanged. As small children supped on lukewarm water, the sun continued to drop beyond the horizon, the temperature with it. Still checking the area before taking a step, Tally finally replied.

'Okay, same as before ... Conn, you're with me, knife at the ready ... Come on ... This way ...'

Taking her long kitchen blade from her belt, she walked them in the direction of an old shack that was still standing out of sheer determination. Constructed from large sheets of rusty corrugated iron, it had stood the test of time, and then some. No doors to worry about, only a dark corner was needed to take temporary refuge in. Walking into the unlit space, Tally turned to the tired and hungry kids.

'Marty, you stay here with this lot. You're third eldest so you're in charge ... If they start to whinge, you know what to do ... The gummy bears are in the front pocket of my rucksack ... But not all of them, one each, just to shut them up, okay,' Tally whispered with a smile, her eyes hardly seen for the dimness they were encased in.

'Okay, one each to shut them up,' was said aloud as a way of remembering for Marty, just so he didn't screw up, because he hated screwing up.

A blanket from a bag was thrown over the musty straw that rotted on the shack floor. Four children, one aged eight, two aged six, and one aged four, curled up together, as Marty, aged eleven, stood to guard and protect. Tally had given him a knife when they first met. They'd then practiced techniques in the old cricket club-house, some throwing and stabbing, just in case. Marty was good, he was fast too. He liked his knife but, so far, hadn't needed to use it for anything horrid, and in that moment, he hoped it stayed that way.

With a combined effort of the three eldest, they located two mossy pallets and another sheet of warped iron. Wedging one wooden barricade against the inside of the narrow opening, thus gave enough reinforcement for the metal panel to stand upright against it, whilst the other pallet sandwiched it in place. A gap remained either side, just enough to survey the surrounding area, and everyone was happy, even Tally.

Leaving the blonde boy at the makeshift door, and the small group sleeping under another blanket, the two siblings turned away and looked towards their next adventure.

The big house, sat on its hill, was dark and empty, and getting darker by the second.

They'd been around long enough to know the score. As youngsters the twin brothers were a total nightmare, in and out of care, the things they did, the torture they inflicted on others, both adult and child. To them it was all a game, and one they seldom lost. As long as they always stuck together they knew they always had the power, the power to take control. In every venture they undertook, they usually gained the upper hand, and when the world turned to hell, it offered them an opportunity to put their real talents to the test. So they did.

Craig and Bret are the boys that were pretty bad. They were pretty bad at everything, all except one thing, causing grief. They didn't see it like that, of course, they only saw what they were able to gain from their efforts. Sometimes the rewards were amazing, for instance, when they beat some old bloke to death with a brick for biscuits and booze, but then sometimes it wasn't so great, for example, when they came across a nice, quiet, pub out in the sticks.

Obtaining their nice top of the range BMW was as easy as taking candy from a small defenceless child, which Craig had already achieved on a previous occasion, but that's another story. When it came into view he instantly fell in love with the look and the shape of it. It was sat at the side of the road with some guy loading suitcases into it, its boot open and waiting.

'Wanna travel in style?' Craig smiled at his brother, who was slowly getting through his bag of beer, can at a time, the tins tossed over his shoulder when finished.

'Now, that's a beast ... Nice, and in black too, your favourite colour. Well, fancy that,' was the chuckled reply, as another tinny was gulped down to the dregs.

'Ere, watch this, you'll love it,' Craig grinned, passing his bags to his brother, who fumbled them into one hand.

Bret stopped on the pavement, watching his sibling walk off towards the car and its owner, who was still loading items into the boot. Craig has his hands, and nasty surprise, hidden from sight, stashed behind his back. He approached, attempting to make small talk.

'Nice car ... Wanna sell it?' he called, ambling towards the panicked man.

'What? ... No, no, I don't want to sell it, of course I don't, are you nuts? ... I have to leave, and you have to leave too ... What you waiting for? ... GO ... NOW,' the jangled man barked, as he stepped backwards towards the side of his car, his hand lifting to slam the boot shut.

'Hey, don't trip out, but the world's on the verge of self-destruction, and, yes, everyone, and I mean, everyone, is going totally nuts, so it's not just me, thank God ... Wow, you should've been there to see it, shame you weren't, because it was pretty bloody amazing ...'

Paled by the story so far, the man drifted along the side of his car, his nerve almost at breaking point. Things felt wrong, very wrong, so he had to make a decision, fight or flight, isn't that what they called it? Whatever it was, that's all he had, for that was the only fork available to him at the time.

'... First, they unleashed their satellite laser, which spread ten miles wide and came from the heavens, all the way down to earth, thereby erasing all the rain clouds from the sky ... It took everyone, all those who fell into the wall of fire ... After that, the shadow army sucked up what was left of the raw meat that littered the streets ... But, you don't want to hear that part, that's even worse than the flames ...'

Craig inched forward as he spoke, his eyes never leaving the man before him. He smiled slowly, his tale continuing.

'... I must admit, it's not too bad over this side, but further into town, nearer ground zero, well, there's nothing but dying and burning ... Really, it's complete hell, and lost, permanently, as of about an hour ago, sorry ... Didn't you hear it on your poncey radio or telly, mate? Sodding hell, it's an alien invasion ... So, run, little man, run, fast, and keep right on running, now ... Or die, right where you bloody well stand ...'

Craig almost sung the last of his words at the slack jawed man before him. Shrugging and pretending to cry, in an effort to appear childishly scared, his hands never once moved from behind his back.

The jittery car owner absentmindedly backed up a little, giving the stranger some sneakily gained extra ground. The keys were still clenched in his fist, his senses pulling him away from the uneasy situation that grew before him.

Craig saw the food and water stacked on the rear seat. He looked at the man and smiled slowly.

'Going on a road trip? ... I see you got a lot of supplies in there ... Fancy some company? There's just me and my brother ...'

The scared man took another pace in retreat, as Craig reached the rear of the motor. Suspicious eyes flicked from the ample goods back to the smiling stranger. There was something about him, something about the way he was talking, and something about how the other one stayed well back.

'I can't, I have to collect my wife and three kids ... They're all at her Mother's house, that's where I'm heading now ... Once they're loaded, there won't be any room left ... Sorry,' he lied, his hand squeezing his keys tightly into his palm.

'Well, with all that crap in the back, how the hell you gonna fit three kids in there? ... Are you attempting to tell me a rubbish porky, you lying, little ...?'

Hoping he might swipe one off his feet, before the other started on him, he took his chance, the outcome not being exactly as he had expected. Lunging towards Craig, with his car keys sticking out from between his fisted knuckles, he was hoping to use them as a form of weapon to punch the nearest lunatic in the face. With only a small gap to cover, his instant attack was direct and to the point, if nothing else.

Craig saw it coming, the old prat being too slow, so was more than prepared. As the car owner's hand lifted, to strike out, his came round from behind his back to wage its own unholy war. The green beer bottle glinted once before it was smashed across the man's face, the fragmented chunks gouging into his open eyes and tearing at as his fragile flesh. The following scream slashed a dirty line through the sunniest of days, its orator crumbling from the pain and his lack of vision. Blood oozed and ran through his fingers and down his warm wrists, as he writhed around in the dust at the side of the road.

The keys were snatched up from the tarmac and into the palm of its new owner. Climbing in, Craig inhaled that sweet smell of a real leather interior. In a nice grey and charcoal, it matched perfectly with the coordinated mats and fabric roof lining. All very swish.

Bret kicked at the stranger's side as he passed to the passenger door, saying, 'Hey, don't take it personally, he's like that with most people that has stuff he wants ...'

It was chuckled in a way that made it sound sincere, as if it were an everyday event, which it was, more often than not.

'So ... Where to next, little brother?' he asked, as the car purred into life and the dash lit up like a cockpit.

'Well, now, there's a question ... Where to next?' he dreamily replied, his fingers lightly tapping the leather clad steering wheel. 'Fancy a trip to the seaside, or we can go inland? As long as we find a nice, quiet, place to call our own, I don't really care, whatever, but one thing's for sure, this town's so dead it's sodding painful,' Craig surmised with a chuckle.

'Okay, let's split,' grinned Bret. 'We have food, water, and new clothes, by the looks of all those bloody cases ... Let's go see what trouble we can find ... Scream if you wanna go faster ...'

So they did, like two little girls, as they squealed off down the road on the edge of town, and into the distance, laughing all the way.

'I gotta stop for a dump ... Eating all that junk was lovely but, bro, I gotta go,' Bret mumbled, looking at the view around them, over the land that stretched into the distance, seeing the trees and boundary walls.

The car came to a standstill, right in the middle of the road, brakes locked, tyres screeching.

Craig looked over at his brother and smiled before speaking.

'... Well ... What ya waiting for, an invite or a carrier bag?'

'We got any arse wipe? I'm not using my socks, not again,' Brett replied, scrambling through what was scattered in the rear footwells.

'No wonder your bloody feet smell if you've been wiping your arse with your socks ... Use your hand, like I do, least you can wipe it on something else or wash it ...'

'Don't you get crap under your nails?'

'Nah, I don't have any ... I bite them to keep them short ...'

The rancid banter continued for a few more seconds, whilst he rummaged around, his grunts and gasps the only thing keeping the natural motion from happening inside the car, and his trousers.

'That'll do ... And I've always hated the French,' he sniggered, his grin getting bigger.

From under the stacked water Bret retrieved a t-shirt with a sketched print of the Eiffel Tower on the front. He held it up to show his brother, the marbled grey cotton hanging by its shoulder seams.

'There you go, squatting on the French again,' chuckled his brother, looking through the windscreen, off towards the hills. 'Well, hurry up ... I wanna get going ... It's getting creepy now it's starting to get dark, and I don't like it ... We need a place to crash, so go do your dumping and let's get the hell outta here, it's giving me the twitch ...'

Bret knew what his brother meant, they both felt it at the same time, because they always did, good or bad. A chill across the neck, a step too close, or a movement not seen by others, they shared and felt it all, whether in the same room or not.

'Yeah, back in a few ... Shouldn't be long ...'

With the opening of the door came the blast of freezing air, one that had a bad taste to it. It wasn't very fresh, and it definitely made your nose tingle, sadly, not in a nice way. Stepping from the car, Bret's eyes travelled to where they had started their day, on the outskirts of the town back there.

Black smoke lifted to be carried across the horizon, thick and heavy, its mass lifting and spreading the more it climbed. He took his dump facing that way, watching it change, as did the paler plumes above, creating odd shapes as they drifted higher.

That was enough for Bret. What with that, and the freezing temperatures as the sun dropped, he was ready to crash. Maybe there was a place not far. They could break in and get comfy. Anything would do for the night. It didn't have to be Chequers or nothing fancy, just someplace to set down, somewhere with light and heat, where they could scoff some nosh before drinking themselves to sleep. That's when he saw it.

Climbing back into the passenger seat, Bret looked over at Craig. He was very quiet, staring off into the gloom that was slowly creeping across the fields to his right. He'd been watching the shadows, and was amazed at the speed they slid over the land, tainting everything they touched.

'All done, wiped, and ready to roll,' Bret babbled as he settled in, not bothering with his seatbelt.

Craig's head slowly turned, his face looking tired, he was done too.

Bret then continued with, 'I was gonna say ... There's a house just up here ... I saw its roof from my dumping site ... Wanna go take a look? It's not that far,' he suggested, nodding in its general direction. 'You never know, out here, we might strike it lucky and find a pub,' he grinned, trying to make it sound worth the trip.

'Yeah, okay,' replied his brother, starting the car. 'You point me there and we'll check it out ... If it is pub, the first round's on me,' he openly lied, as no money was ever found tucked away in any of his dirty pockets.

A shudder suddenly run a line down Craig's spine, Bret felt it too.

'Hey, what's that all about? What did I miss?' he questioned, looking through the driver's window, off across the open space that held trees in small clumps.

'Nothing ... It was you and that bloody cold coming in ... It's sodding freezing out there ... Come on, let's get moving ... I'm hungry and tried, and it's been a long day ...'

As Craig finished his sentence, his eyes cast across that field to his right. It had moved again, that shadow, from the furthest side, to right up near the trees. Putting his foot to the floor, they sped away from it, leaving it hanging near the hedgerow and main gate.

It was indeed a boarded up pub, and it sat at in a quiet spot down a dead-end lane. The sign was gone, the exterior paint peeling, but it still retained a certain amount of charm. Pulling up, they slowly climbed from the car to take a look around. Bret found a canvas shopping bag in the boot and, taking it out, filled it with a few supplies.

There was no noise to filter across the car park towards them, no happy laughter, no merry music, and no movement of any kind. The place seemed as forgotten as they were. Alas, seeming and being are two completely different things, but they weren't to know that at the time.

'Hey, while we're here, let's check through those cases to see what we've got ... These clothes really stink, and some new socks would be nice,' Bret smiled, unzipping the brown one sat on top.

Oddly enough, and proving Craig correct in his previous thinking, only blokes items were pulled loose and held up to test fit, none of which were suitable for a child or woman. A thick jumper was thrown at Craig, a nice one, green, with pockets and a roll neck. Trousers were found, two pairs of cargo pants in particular, and sports socks, which Bret grabbed straight away. The clean t-shirts, all nicely folded, were a perfect fit too, giving them enough gear to keep them going a while.

Pulling another bag free, from the side of that little pile, he found it crammed with various forms of footwear. They both took boots and sized them to their feet, another decent fit, bigger rather than smaller. All items were then changed into, whilst stood in the car park, their clean boxers too.

There wasn't much to be seen through the slats of untreated wood nailed in place. Walking to the rear of the building was a better bet. Some were missing, and one window was reachable for both of them. All they had to do was get to it, via the flat roof that jutted out before them.

Up they climbed, using the stepladder thrown to one side, the one that looked rather clean, considering. They didn't notice that though, they were too busy thinking about being nosy in the abandoned pub. How much of the interior was still intact? Was it gutted, or were they lazy bastards, leaving most of it behind to be boarded up along with the shell?

Soon enough, all those questions would be answered and, as they stopped, to pull their newly obtained head-torches in place, they had no idea they were being watched.

'Urh, what the hell is that awful smell? Did you get a whiff of that?' Bret whispered, placing his feet to the bathroom floor, then looking towards the door so he didn't blind his brother, who was following in behind.

'Yeah, as you said about it,' was Craig's hushed reply. 'Ere, you haven't crapped yourself again, already, have ya? You've only just put that new gear on,' he chuckled, his eyes checking around the empty room they stood in.

'Bloody cheek, take that back ... It only happened the once, and I blame you anyway ...'

Their chatter continued, at a whisper, as they paced their way along the eerie landing and towards the top of the stairs. Rooms, whose doors stood open, were briefly flicked over, each taking a turn, done in minutes.

Pausing, the pair looked down towards the door, eagerly listening through the drone of silence. Nothing, just more silence. Down they dropped, on the outer edges, as usual, down to the space below.

'Well, here goes nothing,' Craig mouthed, his hand moving to the door's handle.

Dropping onto it, his fingers caught on tight, with the intention of bursting through it, ready for action. Thinking in advance, the small axe he carried was pulled from his belt and taken in hand. If there were going to be any unexpected surprises he wanted to be prepared.

It was locked. He tried turning the handle again. No, definitely locked. He looked to his brother stood behind him.

'Move up the stairs a few, I need some room to encourage it to open,' Craig indicated, nodding his head towards the steps.

'Need a hand, or shoulder, as the case may be,' Bret grinned before going anywhere.

'Nah, old door like this, one push ... Bet ya,' was his reply, whilst moving into position.

As he'd done a thousand times before, and with the desired amount of force in precisely the right spot, it did snap open, job done.

Into the room they jumped, turning, this way and that, checking the corners, their weapons raised in anticipation, as their head-torches swept the space around them. Thankfully, no nasty surprises, just them and no one else. Oddly, they were more surprised by the state of the interior. It might have looked a bit abandoned from out there but, inside, it was the complete opposite.

No dust or cobwebs, no rubbish or broken glass, the space incredibly tidy, considering it was meant to be empty. The seats were clean, as if vacuumed that morning, and the red drapes were pulled, as if just closed for the night. A mirror, hanging above the large fireplace, and decorated with a Brewery's emblem and slogan, was sparkling clean.

Craig's reflection was a scary image when first experienced. He turned away quickly, not wanting to be reminded of the filth that was ingrained into his face and body.

'Check it out, bro ... I think we scored it big time here,' Bret chuckled, rubbing his hands together, his face alight with all the things possible in a place like that.

'Mmm, nice, very nice, too nice, maybe ... And what is that bloody sickening smell? ... It comes and goes ... Is that you and your rancid arse? What have you been eating, your dirty dick-wad?' Craig protested, moving away from his brother, off towards the bar that still ran the length of the long, open space.

'Again ... No, that's not me ... I thought it was you ... Whoever smelt it, dealt it, bitch,' was laughed across the room at him.

Bang went a door in the distance, as though slammed out of sight, maybe down in the cellar possibly. Its echo carried towards them on a stream of tainted air, its aroma catching their nostrils as it circled and encased them. To the spot they froze, weapons lifted once again, their eyes snapping around to the door at the far end, suggesting it led below.

'You go ...'

'No ... You go ...'

Neither wanted to, but did, and then only as a team, not alone. Creeping, inch by aching inch, they concentrated, as if two wild hawks with their eyes on fire. Watching every step taken, their breaths were held, along with a lot of other things.

The door slowly glided open to reveal yet another narrow staircase, and it did indeed lead them down, down to a bend in the dark.

'So, now we know where that bloody awful smell's coming from,' Bret gagged, with his left hand lifting to cover his nose and mouth. 'Should we be doing this?' he questioned, coming to a standstill before another door.

'Well, we're here now, bro ... You first, you're the eldest, as you keep reminding me,' Craig chuckled, his hand offering the next entry to his openly nervous sibling.

'You git, I knew you'd say that,' Bret bitched, pushing to the front of the queue.

Seems it wasn't locked but, all the same, they probably wished it had been. It was a door that should never have been there to open, for beyond it was hell on earth with all the trimmings. What the lads found themselves facing was only ever seen in the old cult horror films they loved so much. Stuff like that didn't happen in the real world, did it? Was it really out there, and to that extent?

'Holy cow-crap and all the Saints preserve us,' fell from the lips of one stunned twin.

'Amen to that, brother,' fell from the lips of the other.

Total carnage graced the room, ceiling to floor, in huge patches everywhere. Large iron hooks, mostly rusty, swung slowly from several beams. They had matter dangling from them, fleshy matter, scarlet it was, and all seen under the bright strip lights that graced the ceiling. Splats of something messy stuck to the walls and dripped from everything. It was a true house of horrors, and one they needed to leave as soon as possible.

A loud noise in the far corner turned their eyes from the pooled blood, the putrid cages, and all that carved up whatever, hung from the crossbeams. Into the light, a small figure emerged, out from the darkness behind. Awash it was, with more horrible red slime and, in there, beaming back, were two twinkling eyes and a line of white teeth. It even blinked and smiled, when it finally decided to speak to them.

'Hello, I'm Tyler, who are you guys? ... I like your fancy wheels, any chance of a ride?' it sweetly asked.

It was most probably a boy, judging from the unbroken voice, a young teen, possibly. He also had a very big axe, bigger then Craig's, three times bigger, if not more, which he dragged along behind him on the cold slabs beneath his bare feet. He was plastered in blood, from top to toe, the shade varying from his skin, to his green jeans, and then again where it drenched his blue sweatshirt. Dark hair was matted in with it, the bits caught in his side parting, making it look painted on, comical almost.

'Okay,' Bret almost squeaked, 'that's too wacky for me ... Time we split, little brother, before this throwback's family return ...'

They couldn't get up those steps fast enough.

'What about the bag? I dropped it, sorry,' Craig cried, leaping up the stairs, two at a time, his brother on his heels.

'Forget it, we got more in the car ... Let's go, bro ... NOW,' Bret shouted, following through the deserted bar, towards their first floor point of entry.

Their head-torches bounced light across the darkened space, flashing off the pub mirror and almost blinding them both. In a circle, they span, on one spot, unsure where to dash next.

'Upstairs ... The window, it's upstairs,' Bret bleated, almost at the point of taking another dump in his cargo trousers, regardless of how new they were.

Behind the bar and up the stairs, they raced, with that vile smell still clinging to the inside of their nostrils. They should never have gone down there and opened that door. Whose stupid idea was it anyway?

'Go, go ... GO,' Craig screamed at his brother, heading away, running, towards fresh air and open spaces.

Through the window and down into the car park, they fell, landing in a heap, the stepladder gone.

'Christ ... Where's the bloody motor and our supplies? ... And where the hell are our old clothes?' Craig almost wept, coming to a halt in the empty space.

They'd left them next to the car, the one that was missing. Panic was a new feeling. Almost having the crap scared out of you, that's one thing, but panic! Well, for them, it was a whole new ballgame.

'... RUN ...' Bret hollered at his brother, his voice as loud as his head-torch was bright.

'... WHAT WAY ...?' Craig cried, with his fear on the verge of releasing something particularly noxious from within him.

'... ANY BLOODY WAY ...' was a screamed reply, as his sibling ran for the hills.

So, that's what they did. They ran away from the smelly pub, with its freakish kid, nasty meat hooks and bloody cellar floor. Fleeing, in hope of escaping that which lay back there, was all they had left, seeing as they'd lost everything else, crusty socks included. Getting as far away as was physically possible was their new plan and, to watch them fly with such grace, there was a huge possibility that, thus far, it was the only one they had.

Total silence can drive you crazy. When all you ever hear is the blood throbbing in your head, you start to think you hear other things, strange things, things that wouldn't normally be heard in an everyday world. Sadly, JD was no longer in an everyday world. He had suddenly been transported to a world where everything was jumbled up and topsy-turvy. Nothing made sense, there was no correct direction and all around was a wasteland, baron and stripped.

There was no crying, no whining, he didn't shout or scream, because he simply couldn't. Inside it stayed, trapped and weighted down by all the sorrow he carried within, his long day about to come to an end. As the night tripped across a fallen landscape, JD knew it was time to get off the streets.

He'd already wandered in a circle once that day, revisiting the shop where he found food earlier. Taking the opposite direction, merely for the change of scenery, it led him out of the town and towards the countryside. Leaving the devastation behind him, he walked towards the hills in the distance, not knowing why.

Birdsong accompanied him as he sauntered along, his eyes taking in his new surroundings. The day had been warm, considering, but as the shadows crossed the land, he knew the temperature would drop to below zero in its darkest hours.

Wandering into the small village, JD saw more emptiness and lack of people. He didn't recognise it as a place he'd visited before or even passed through. No signs of life, all doors closed with the curtains drawn. There was nothing and no one. He kept going, not looking back.

Reaching the outskirts, the sign thanked him for driving carefully. No cars zoomed by, not a bus or a lorry. He heard animals, sheep and cows, there were grazing the fields around him, as though nothing had changed. They were unaware of what was happening beyond their fields of green. In their world it was still perfect, still normal, still the same as yesterday.

Looking passed the track he was pacing, and off towards the distance, he saw something move in the trees. At first he thought it was a cow, standing over by the gate, until it turned and looked his way. Not knowing how to react at first, he considered making a run for it in the opposite direction. As he went to turn away, something stopped him.

No, it wasn't a cow, or the shadows, it was a big man, and he was walking the edge of the field towards JD, smiling.

He didn't know what to do, so he waited, watching him get nearer. Through the gap in the hedge, he squeezed, to come to stand before him, looking down, still smiling.

'Well, hello there, little man, you look as lost as I am ... You hungry too?' smiled the dirty stranger, as he slowly held some torn ham towards the small being.

It was taken and consumed, the flavour, the best thing that day.

'Not talking, huh, well, that don't matter to me, the company on a cold night is enough ... You're welcome to stay with me, if you so wish, you'll be safe, I promise ... I have a hut with a fire and a warm corner for a small one like you ... I know it's not much but, under our current circumstances, I think we'll be okay. What d'ya reckon?'

Dark eyes looked up at the man with the smile and smell of sweat and tears. There was something about him, a light, which was almost a safe feeling, and almost the same as being at home. JD decided he quite liked him.

Towards the trees they turned, that tall man, in his long dirty coat, and the small one, growing colder by the second. Off they stomped, down the muddy lane, and then left by the little stream that cut through the coppice. Into view it came, the smallest house JD had ever seen. A lowlight glowed through a glassless window, the sacking an attempt to keep the warmth in and the bitter cold out.

'So, my name's William, but my friends call me Billy, well, they used to ... Can't imagine there's many of them left now,' he grinned in a gentle manner, stuffing bread and cheese into his mouth, which was then washed down with bottled water.

Dark eyes still watched him, as that liquid disappeared into a parched throat.

'You want some too, aye! ... I'm sorry, that was right rude of me ... There you go ... Enjoy,' he quietly smiled, pouring some water into an old beaker he found, and placing some food onto a grubby handkerchief.

In their silence they sat to eat, watching the last of the light melt away over the trees. The shadows were slowly drifting in around them, as the fire's embers lowered but still gave off enough heat to sleep by.

JD moved from his spot, to go outside, to do what he had to do before sleep would carry him off towards the dawn. With his necessities complete, he cast an eye over the quiet land around him, the gloom not as much fun as it used to be. There was something out there, something cold and unsettling, it touched his collar and made him shiver.

Moving back into the light and warmth, he looked to the man, snoring in a heap. Quietly he waddled over, to snuggle against the vast expanse of warm back. Curling into a ball, JD sighed once before closing his eyes, as the fire burnt down to nothing and the night came to rest upon them.

On the rise of the hill sat the big, empty house. Tally knew no one was home as they approached, her sight had shown her around, prior to entering the abandoned building. With her senses leading the way, she checked to see where Connor was before moving towards the rear.

Shutters covered all the windows, closed from the inside. The place was rather large, rambling even, with an extra wing jutting out at the side. With its outbuildings that covered a vast area behind, and its silent stables and garages, the property was probably worth a fortune. Standing there, looking inside, Tally knew what lay within those silent walls. It was all empty, as empty as the house itself.

'Which window should we break then, sis?' Connor asked, his eyes running the back of the house to establish a point of entry. 'What about that one? Not too small, just big enough for us all to fit through ... Would that work?'

'Hang on a minute, Conn,' Tally whispered in reply, 'we can do better than that ... Wait here ...'

He watched as his sister walked a few paces away, around the corner of the house and into darkness. Her eyes were looking beyond. They were focused on something Connor's were unable to see in the gloom, but she could.

'Where you going, Tally? I thought ...'

Connor stopped talking, what was the point, she was already out of sight, lost to the shadows. He decided to follow, even though he was unsure of the direction she had taken.

'Tally ... Tally ... Where are you?' he tried to quietly call, heading after his sister.

Where was she? His eyes strained to find her. No, she never walked that way.

'... Ta-lly ... Ta-lly,' he whispered, again, into the imposing night.

There was nothing and no one there, just open space and the darkness crawling towards him at a mile a minute. Turning back the way he had come, he stopped to listen for footsteps.

'... BOO ...'

'... CHRIST, you scared the hell outta me ... Don't do that,' was barked at her as she reappeared around the side of the house, with a torch under her chin, making her scrunched up face seem surreal in the pale light. 'Sometimes ... I really hate you, I hope you know that,' he snapped, as his heart rate slowed a little, his breathing along with it.

'Arh, you weren't that scared, you didn't call me a bitch,' she giggled, taking her brother by the hand and leading him towards a door in the ground. 'Look, I found a way in, they have a cellar, good, aye!' she grinned, her hand dropping to the padlocked panel. 'If we can get this open, we're in ... Think of all the lovely things that could be stashed away in a place like this ... Food, fresh water, proper beds, new clothing ...'

'... Wine and beer too ...?' Connor excitedly asked his older sibling.

'Yeah, wine and beer, too, probably,' she replied with a chuckle. 'It's a big house so they'd need lots of everything ... And I noticed all the stacks up top ... If they have working chimneys, there'll be open fires too, and that means warmth ... We can collect firewood and boil water for hot drinks, we can cook food, eat properly, sleep in a bed, and have a wash, hopefully ... If nothing else, I really need to clean my teeth,' she replied, seeming rather cheery all of a sudden.

Connor understood what having that place meant. Nothing was certain anymore, except the fact that half the country was missing. If there was no home, no parents, no normal life with school, shopping, telly, radio and the internet, then that place was probably the best place to be. It looked big and safe, and with those little munchkins in tow, they couldn't have come across it at a better time of day.

He remembered them, sleeping down in the shack by the bottom of the field, with Marty on watch. They had all lost so much. How could they ever make it better? Tally was right, there was just them, and they had to do the best they could with what they had, which amounted to not much, but, they still had each other, and that was better than nothing.

Again Tally wandered off, heading towards the empty garages. Connor followed to see what she had in mind. Taking a crowbar from its hanging position, she returned to the door in the floor. Placing one end under the heavy chain, it creaked and chaffed, but the padlock did exactly what it said on the box, and would not budge. Moving it to the gap where the chain fed through an iron loop, Tally tried again. Wood splintered as the screws gave way, tearing them from their housing, to fall to the ground, lost in the gravel.

'And we're in ... Well done you ... What now?' Connor asked, as the crowbar was leant again the wall.

His sister pulled the large door open, flapping it back on itself. A huge cavern, as dark as the edge of outer space itself, gaped up at them, awaiting their decent.

To Connor, it was all a bit mad, dropping into the jaws of hell, not knowing what resided in such a big, black space. Although his sister said her sight had seen nothing, he didn't always believe her, not every time anyway. Did he really have to go down there, into that pit of danger, where anything could be lurking and waiting? His relief came with her whispered words.

'You go and get the others, bring them to that back door over there ... I'll check this place out, see what it has to offer ... You never know, we might find you some trainers that fit,' she grinned, looking from her brother down into the depths below.

'Yeah, and if we do, I'll be well impressed, sis,' was his reply as he backed away, heading for the old shack in the field.

Tally waited until her younger sibling vanished around the corner before she took that lungful of cold night air and got her knife ready, just in case. The torch had gone with Connor, back to the other kids, sleeping where they fell. To give them something more, other than just food and water, was all she hoped for. A safe warm place to rest would be wonderful, rather than some mouldy straw decked hovel that was freezing, and under smelly blankets they found along the way. In there, they could build up an open fire, drink hot chocolate, and have a heated supper before bed.

Liking the thought of them all being full and happy, and ready to sleep through their first night away from home, was enough to keep her moving. They were used to it already, Connor and her, the upheaval. When their parents separated, he stayed with their mum, but she followed their dad, leaving poor old Connor behind. Their parting had been a pretty sad one, but, when they were together, it was as if they had never been apart.

One more big breath, just for good luck, and down the steps she dropped. Her vision was already on night-sight, and she was right, it was a cellar to die for. It was crammed with tins and jars, boxes and packets, wine, water and beer. Everything food wise was there, plus extra for emergencies. On it went, shelf after shelf, cupboard after cupboard, enough to last them for months.

Upstairs, in the huge kitchen, it was much the same. A larder held all things yummy, tins were neatly stacked in lower cupboards as jars and packets filled the upper ones. She found jams and pickles, boxes of cereal, tubs of powdered milk, and even several bags of shaped pasta. If Tally could name it, it was there, even tinned rice pudding, her favourite.

To one side sat a range they could cook on. The multi fuel Aga also burnt wood, helping to keep the kitchen and lower floor warm. A house that rambling offered them all the things they needed to survive whatever it was that had hit the country, if not the world. If there was a generator in a garage, they were sorted. Powering up the place with heat and light was all they needed to be comfortable. Once settled, they could make scavenger runs for any items they didn't have, Tally's sanitary wear being one of them.

Looking towards the backdoor, her sight took her beyond the chunky wood to see her little band of stragglers slowly approaching. Connor walked ahead with Betsy, as Marty carried the youngest, James. The others toddled along behind, wiping sleep from their eyes, their whinging kept to a mumble.

Unlocking the door, it was truly a lovely welcome. Candles and storm lamps were found and lit as they all raided the cupboards. Connor built up the fire in the dining room, near the kitchen, its wood stacked in place with dry matches sat waiting to be used. In no time at all, flames jumped and spat to give off a heat they had long forgotten. A pan was found, filled with water, and rested on the hot plate to hopefully boil. A hot drink was all that was needed, that and some warm food inside them.

Tally had already tried the taps in the kitchen. To her amazement they had cold running water. Checking through the drawers found another surprise, a delivery receipt. So, not gas central heating, the place was run on oil. Smiling to herself, she shovelled another spoonful of creamed rice into her mouth, and it tasted amazing.

Tomorrow she would go and check to see how much was left in the tank outside, and try to locate a source of power, if there was one. With any luck, they might be able to get the system running. The added heating was a lovely thought, considering how cold it was getting, but something else fired up Tally's mind. If there was oil heating, and power, then there might be hot water.

She smiled as she walked off in the direction of the others, the tin of rice in her hand, the spoon being licked once more. The thought of a bath, or a shower, with nice hot water, shampoo and soap was too much to take in. Still, it sounded like a little piece of heaven to Tally, and if a toothbrush was thrown in too, well, it could almost be paradise.

After all that miserable walking and major effort, she made it. When the roof came into view through the trees, and she saw that chimney smoke slowly curling into the evening sky, it was as if the summer sun were shining just for her. Though it was already dark, such a small detail didn't seem worth fretting over. In Katrina's mind she was on home turf and safe.

There was a strange feeling sweep over her as she walked the last of her steps. As the whole of the house came into view through the gloom, she stopped. Moving to a tree, she peered around it at the house that stood some distance away, and across the small paddock that had once been home to a small bunch of senile donkeys. That feeling, she'd had it before, recently, it was a warning, a 'don't rush into anything, you fool' kind of feeling. So she didn't, she held back and watched, just for a few seconds.

Sudden movement in the shadows, near the front of the house, over by that stupid greenhouse, was what caught her tired eyes. At first she thought she'd imagined it, but she was right, there was someone, or something, over by the front of the house, she could see it, moving under cover of darkness.

An eerie chill crept up her spine as the breeze ruffled the treetops. It had been a lovely sunny day, but the wind was bringing something else, and it didn't smell very nice at all. The burning town and her parents came to mind. Rubbing her knuckles over her eyes didn't help much, but when she looked back, the shadow had gone.

Katrina passed it off as a fox or cat wandering its territory to see what was about for free. Her elderly relative was a lover of all things natural, and Katrina always saw her as a bit of a Hedge Witch, living off the land and her organic veg, harvesting her own meat and small crops. She found it all a bit New Age and forward thinking for her aunt, considering the old girl was knocking on. After her Uncle died, the donkey rescue service ceased to be, but those her aunt kept, they saw out their final days, grazing and being fussed over by her and the kids from the local village.

Her aunt was a special woman, one she had come to love as if a mum, in a way. A million treasured moments had been seen in that house, and she was so elated to make it there, in one piece and still alive.

Taking the path that wiggled its way to the front of the rambling house, Katrina could see all the interior shutters were closed for the night, the heavy drapes pulled over to keep the warmth in. Internally she smiled, her aunt was home, a fire was lit, and she was probably sat with a pot of her Rosemary Tea on the go, homemade ginger snaps too, hopefully half dipped in dark chocolate.

The stone steps were taken at a run, with a big smile on her face and a huge surge of relief in her heart, to stand before the large oak door with its oversized knocker. Katrina hummed her happy sigh at the thought of what sat, waiting, within. Welcomed, as if lost for a lifetime, she would be safe at last, which was a wonderful blessing, considering all she'd been through and all she'd seen. The love-light, inside, was a tide, and it was warm and full of hope, and all she had to do was knock.

'Did you hear that? It sounded like banging,' Marty said, looking in Tally and Connor's direction, his face awash with pale candlelight.

The siblings both focused on the door in the far corner. Standing, Tally moved towards it, her feet as light as feathers, hardly touching the floor beneath them. She stopped everything, movement, breathing, blinking.

'Betsy, stay here with them, shout if you need us ... Marty, Conn, with me ... Now,' she softly commanded, her eyes seeing beyond the walls, seeing beyond the dark.

A mass was stalking them, she had seen it before. It had been there all the time. Why was it following them?

With the two boys behind her, they left the smaller kids sat by the open fire, bunkered down together. Tally smiled, recalling how they were found. So many were lost, but they managed to save the few with them. Without Connor she would never have coped, so much responsibility at such a young age. Her smile was still there, as some things never changed.

Hand signals led them from the room and into the cavernous hallway full of shadows. The big, empty house sighed and creaked under its own settling weight, the numb silence becoming a barrier which held back the tide of sour air. Stagnant rooms held forgotten lives in a collection of framed photos, sadly left for the dust bunnies and cobwebs to admire.

Marty's torch illuminated the corridor before them.

'Keep that pointed at your feet, please, Marty, as usual,' Tally slowly smiled in the strange half-light, so Marty complied, as usual.

The teenage girl had already checked through the entire property, cleared upstairs first, and then the ground floor rooms, their doors pulled shut when done. Everything was still in place. Nothing had changed or moved. It was still untouched.

A sudden noise came from the large room to the front of the building. It had a massive greenhouse attached to the side of it, which housed big tropical trees and some really ugly plants.

'Sorry, but there's no bloody way I'm going in there,' Marty whispered, the torch shaking and rattling in his hand as his words were expelled from his mouth.

Tally spun before him, her index finger to her lips, a sharp, 'Shush,' her only reply.

Her left fist suddenly lifting shoulder height stopped them, as frozen as statues, rooted to the spot, their ears straining to hear what came next. Eyes focused on the door they were inching towards. Another few steps amassed on feet that barely shuffled for fear of making a floorboard complain.

Tally swallowed noisily as her hand rested on the ornate brass door knob. It was stiff to turn, as though she hadn't already turned it that day, its oiled mechanism still clogged with dust and grime. The door whined as it swung open, bouncing against the club chair, sat, still empty, behind it.

Sticking to the walls, the three young explorers stealthily made their way round and towards the glass room, which held darkness galore with added creepiness. Twice they stopped, the noise being nearer. They were in the right place then.

Pausing, her mind roamed the space before them. Her night-sight swept through the wall, across the floor, into the shadows. She was looking, hunting, trying to seek it out. There it was, hiding, just there, the shadow in the night.

Hand signals left Marty at the greenhouse door, to stay put, but to shout if needed. Out of her back pocket slid her black skull beanie hat with the eyes cut out. Pulling it into place, she was ready. With her trusty knife in hand, she turned to face Connor.

'You stay here with Marty, I'll be back in a second,' she quietly smiled, her eyes looking misty in the gloom. 'You have to trust me on this ... It's gonna be alright, I promise ...'

With that, she turned and whipped into the shadows between the foliage, the boys left to fend for themselves in the dark.

No answer. Okay, so there was a spare key hidden under the gothic urn on the plinth, next to the stone bench, round back. Katrina could gain access to the dining room, in through the double doors. Her Aunt always left it there for her in case of an emergency. Well, if anything was a bloody emergency wasn't it what she was currently going through?

Heading to the side path, she didn't see the shadow slither onto the lawn and separate. As one followed her, the other headed in a different direction, back towards the greenhouse.

The smell some of those plants gave off was vile, there was one that smelt like rotting flesh and several that would eat you, if you let them, and of that Tally was quite sure. It was dense to move through and trying to be quite was a total waste of time, every rustle made another, so what was the point.

Instant freeze on the spot, her ears scanning for vibrations, the slightest thing analysed then discarded as nothing. Thinking about how they got that far, she was pretty impressed, especially with the smaller kids, found locked in their own homes, their parents vanished away, the same as everyone's. Being older and braver than the rest helped, there was no fear, even when it didn't feel right, she wasn't afraid.

Staying strong was the key, being ready for anything, and having the courage to face it. They were the seeds of survival, and there lay her main plan, to keep them all safe because, in the end, that was all that really mattered.

There was nothing, no noise, no intruder, no ghost or monster, just her and a load of stupid plants that smelt bad. Looking to her right she saw where the banging had come from. Moving towards the cold shadow, her hand lifted to pull the window closed. The wind must have caught it, banging it against its frame, the draught a random gust blown through the draping leaves. Such a silly thing, but solved all the same.

Turning, her face checked a movement in the corner of her eye. Almost laughing, she spoke aloud to no one.

'You silly git, jumping at your own shadow, what you like?' she chuckled to herself in the gloom.

As she headed back to the waiting boys, she didn't see her darkened patch slide from her side to wander off into the night, out and beyond those fragile glass walls, to re-join its counterpart.

Rosemary Tea and homemade cakes, the aroma almost filled Katrina's nostrils as she unlocked the doors before her. Pushing open the wooden shutters and parting the heavy drapes, she was greeted by an unexpected scene. As her eyes adjusted to the low light, they scanned the room, looking towards the lit fire and pile of small bodies before it. She was horrified that someone had got there before her. In some way she felt cheated. She wanted a hearty welcome from her lovely aunt, whom she loved quite a bit, not a bunch of snivelling kids.

'Who are you? ... What are you doing in this house? ... How did you get in?' she sneered in their direction, her face taking on a mean and tight expression.

Approaching the only one standing as she spoke, her disgust was quite evident across her features. It was a little girl, and it was hugging a filthy, germ ridden, soft toy cow. It stepped back in awe, as Katrina grew closer, its little eyes becoming larger by the second.

The oily presence had silently pooled through the open doors, it had glided over the threshold, and it had effortlessly rolled itself into the pile of the plush carpet. Trailing a dense smear towards the woman's static feet, it headed straight for the one thing which it sought the most. She was another who held a shadow where a light should shine, and what she said next, well, there was no need for that.

'... Just because your parents are all dead, it doesn't mean you can stay here for free ... This is my Aunt's house, and I want you all out ... NOW ...'

The little girl's eyes randomly dropped from Katrina's face, up there, to focus on the nice shiny black boots, down there, that had once been a nice shade of blue.

Katrina's followed.

'What the ...?'

Her nightmare had just begun. Trying to move was futile, her feet being slicked to the floor. It spread outwards, as though she were casting roots into the very soil beneath her.

In one sudden tremor, she was face down, chest to the floor. Landing, with her arms thrown forward in an effort to save herself, her eyes looked to the kid before her.

'Well! Don't just stand there ... Bloody help me,' she barked, her voice on the verge of panic.

Her long fingers clawed at the carpet beneath her, the nails breaking and bending backwards. Torn and bleeding, she felt them snap. Her pleas for help went unheard by the petrified children before her. They didn't help, they hid, behind cushions, her Aunt's cushions, whimpering and dribbling.

Still backwards she slid, backwards toward her point of entry, dragged on her belly, as if a sack of old meat, her efforts to free herself a lost cause. Looking around at her cold, bare legs, the night was upon them, with its chilly fingers slowly encasing her lower portion, one limb at a time. The ache started to burn, the sensation taking all other feeling from her booted feet. Black, inky, tight around the centre, it squeezed as it inched, taking its time, remembering why it was there in the first place.

'... Help ... Me ...' she feebly cried in vain, for no help was to come.

Her arms stretched out in hope, her fists pounding the floor as her words came in a gust but, alas, she was to receive as much help as she gave those poor mites once heard pounding on glass, one of whom was Betsy.

Still cuddling her toy cow to her chest, the little girl smiled down at the suffering woman, as she took her second step back, and away, from the big cry-baby whom she hated so much. When people were bad they were punished, and the mean woman on the floor, pleading, crying and begging, seemed to be no exception.

'HELP ME ... PLEASE,' was her last gargled scream, as the oil encased her hair and snaked its way over her face, up her nose, and into her eyes and mouth. It bled into her ears, filtered over all of her, no part to be left untouched. How small she became, sulking into the night, her body lost to the murk that only dark shadows wallow within.

Tally, Conn and Marty crashed into the room as the screaming died away, their knives at the ready. Frantic eyes checked all the dark corners, but no one was there. The kids, they were where they had left them, on the cushions by the open fire.

'Moo, what happened? Are you guys okay?' Tally gushed, hurrying over to catch the little girl in her arms for a crouched security hug.

Betsy pulled away, her toy cow dangling from her hand by its tail. She smiled as she looked at Tally.

'It was that woman ... She came in through those doors over there, she had a key ... She said our parents are all dead and that she didn't want us here ... That's what she said ... But I knew it was a lie, Tally ... She wanted to hurt us, that's why she followed us here ... But she didn't get us ...'

As Tally dealt with Betsy, the two boys checked on the younger children, who were still hiding behind their old cushions, crying. Gummy bears were doled out, just a few each, mainly to cheer them up after their near miss with some mad stranger.

'What woman, Moo?' Where did she go?' Tally gently enquired, well aware of how incredibly calm the child was being about the whole affair.

'It was that woman, the one in the village, the one that didn't help us... They took her away, because she was being mean to us, saying horrid things about our Mummies and Daddies ... They heard her, and they took her ... Tally, I think they didn't liked her very much either,' Betsy whispered, her face serious all of a sudden.

'Sorry, Moo, but who took her away?' Tally almost smiled. Was the kid making it up?

Simon, the eight year old, who they had found walking the street with blood on his face, after it all happened, and who was still a little stunned by the whole unbelievable affair, was the only one to speak.

'They did ... They took her ... They took her away ...'

A bunch of astonished faces turned in Simon's direction.

Betsy was smiling in her sweet little way when she chirped in with, 'See ... Simon said, so it must be true ...'

Tally stood and walked over to the shy child with his red hair and green eyes. Crouching before him, her left hand lifted to rest on his shaking shoulder. After a few seconds of contact he calmed enough to stop. His eyes never left that spot by the floor length curtains. He sat and stared at it, his memory replaying the event, over and over.

'Who took the lady away, Si?' Tally quietly asked the ashen lad before her.

Betsy replied for him, her eyes slowly turning towards where Simon's were still focused.

'It was them, Tally ... Them,' she almost whispered, clutching her cow to her chest.

'Who are them?' Tally enquired in a gentle manner, her voice being almost lost under her need to know the truth.

Simon's sad and watery eyes moved from that spot, lost in time, his face paled to grey. They came to rest on Tally, the one person he trusted more than anyone else alive. Three words were whispered from between his trembling lips.

'... The shadow men ...'

Together they managed to climb from the bus, up over the two cars, and around the delivery lorry, their journey a shaky one to say the least. With every hand pass or pulling up motion, all around rocked and groaned, the sound of scraping metal a high pitched squeal, enough to make them all wince. No one spoke, all of them concentrating on their next position, not overstretching, not making a wave or a bounce. Steady, eyes in place, feet on the mark taken by the former, the way paved, their pathway clear.

The sun had dropped from the sky, the night upon them, as they stood together in stunned silence, their eyes feasting on what faced them. The bus shelter, the petrol station, the farm across the road, the posh house with the tower at the front, they were all gone, levelled, now a jumbled mess of burning bricks and twisted vehicles melted to the tarmac, some of which were in huge chunks.

Not a sound, not a word, not a cry or a whimper, just cracks and bangs, and roaring fires, here, there, and in both directions. Craters scorched the earth where the wall of fire had taken families, friends and neighbours too, most probably. Everything seemed lost.

No one could speak, there were no words. What was the point of describing the obvious? Real life had suddenly gone bonkers on a deadly scale. Was there anyone or anything left?

'Christ Almighty ... Am I seeing what I'm seeing?' asked Yoyo, as he stepped towards Doug and the man's paling face.

There was no reply, more silence was all that was on offer, take it or leave it.

'Oh, my, God ... My son ... My son,' Karen wept, falling to her knees in the dust where she stood taking in the vastness of the damage.

Towns glowed in the distance, their raging heat lifting the black smoke that choked the night and blanketed out the stars. A police car sat with its front bumper up in the air, leant against a tree. It resembled a forgotten gardening tool, soon to be retrieved and returned to the shed before sundown, or it might have been counting down a game of hide and seek, its friends absconding down the big hole over yonder, the one they'd just climbed from like monkeys.

Ben was quietly crying, stood next to Karen, his hand resting on her shoulder in a comforting way. When he looked over at the other men, tears had washed clean lines down his dusty cheeks, his blue eyes still watery for seeing such a broken world.

'What do we do now?' he babbled, walking over to join Yoyo and Doug. 'We can't just stand here all night looking stupid ... We have to do something, anything ...'

'Shut up ... I'm thinking,' snapped Doug, turning this way and that, stood with his hands on his hips. He was listening as he spun, his eyes checking for any other signs of life.

'What you at, Doug? What can you hear?' Yoyo quietly asked, his eyes jumping around the same as Doug's. 'What you see out there, anything?'

'No ... Not what I hear or see, Yoyo, what I can feel ... And from where I stand, right now ... It doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel right at all,' Doug replied, his words barely heard over the drone of so much silence.

'You're one weird dude, do you know that?' Yoyo grinned, finally coming to like the older bloke he was standing beside a little more. 'So, what ya think? Find food, water, maybe shelter for the night, then we can make a plan and see what tomorrow brings?'

Doug stopped pacing and looked at the kid in his baggy jeans, blue hoody, top brand trainers and reversed baseball cap. He had to smile in return, he didn't know why, but the kid before him just did that sometimes.

'Actually, Yoyo ... That was exactly what I was thinking,' he chuckled, looking back beyond Ben and Karen. 'And that place, over there, looks just the job ... Let's go, we need to get off this road, and now it's dark, I have a nasty feeling this'll be when the first of our real problems start ...'

Taking what was left of the turning behind the petrol garage, they crossed the train tracks onto the lane beyond. Over that side, little damage seemed to be done. The feeble shack in the paddock was intact, the fence running its boundary complete, and the gates still locked at the entrance.

Blackbird song slowly reached their ears, where there had been none heard before. Then cows were lowing in the distance, and sheep, bleating. All the sounds of the countryside flooded their senses, all of them, except people and transport.

Standing in the lane, looking back to where they had started, it seemed a whole world away. A pocket of heaven sat untouched by the hand of Satan himself. Hell resided back on the main road, flattened and ground to dust, along with the people from those cars. All of them were gone, not a stitch remained, nothing, not even a shoe.

Approaching the five bar gate, Doug checked for anyone or anything moving. Climbing over, one at a time, they rested against the high hedge, their backs to the branches. Before making a move for the one storey building, he decided it would probably be a good idea to case the place out first. Finding some form of lighting and protection were a must, and the outbuildings seemed a good place to start.

The wooden door to the brick built shed grated as it was forced back enough to gain access. In they all squeezed, before pushing it shut behind them. A mass of webs hung as if wispy hammocks, beam to wall to windowpane. Musty air moved forgotten particles enough to lift and roam, then slowly settle someplace new. Half-light filtered through the opaque corrugated plastic above, some of which had shattered and let in the Russian vine. Garden and general tools scattered the workbenches and walls. They hung from the ceiling and rested on cluttered shelves. Everything you would ever need to keep your home ticking alone, no other services required.

'It's as dark as shit in here, how we gonna see anything?' Ben asked, not going any further than the door.

Doug wasn't having too much of a problem, neither was the kid, but he and Karen didn't like it, not one bit.

Yoyo felt his way to the nearest bench, swiping the trailing webs from his face as he went. Everything was rusty, some items more than others. It was a pruning saw that came to hand after a bit of searching. Picking it up, he turned to Doug's silhouette.

'Found mine ... Thank you,' he grinned, waving it at no one.

Karen stood in the gloom by the door, her eyes casting over what lay around her as they adjusted to the lowlight. She couldn't think about anything but her son, out there, somewhere, lost, crying, even, you know. No, she refused to accept that. He was round his mates for the day, no problem, and nothing to worry about, so he'd be just fine. Well, she prayed he was fine.

'Karen, don't take anything if you don't feel up to it, I'll look after you,' Ben soothed over at her and her sad face.

Her reply was a slow smile and a soft, 'Thank you,' mouthed in his direction.

A sudden noise snapped all their faces the same way. It came from the far end of the room. There it was again, in the shadows, in the darkest part, down the end where no one had dared wander yet.

All eyes fell on Doug's shadow. Staring back at them he wondered how, all of a sudden, he was seen as their shield against the ensuing madness.

There it was again, only a little louder than before.

'You go look,' Doug whispered over to the young lad, 'you're the one with the sword in his hand.'

It was rapidly dropped on the nearest bench, the fingers holding it wiped down dusty jeans.

'What? ... I ain't got no sword ... Look!' was whispered back, his empty hands lifted in evidence as if a natural movement for the boy.

Doug had to chuckle as the other two watched on in amazement.

'Give it here, you...' Doug told the boy, whilst holding in his frustration.

Yes, Doug did contemplate doing the kid, there and then, to be left for the shadows in the night, but he felt sorry for him at the same time. A kid like that wouldn't survive alone, he needed people and, sadly, Doug and the others were those people.

With his rusty blade he turned his attention to the job at hand. The noise again, down there in the dark, in the shadows.

'Karen,' he asked over his shoulder, 'just out of interest, try those switches next to you, please ... Do they work?'

They were tried, but none did, though several fluorescent strips hung over abandoned benches. Either they were all dead or the power was out.

'Hey, Doug,' Ben whispered, 'I just remembered, I have my tiny torch on my keys, would that help?' he grinned.

'Ben, yes, that would be amazing, and thanks for remembering, just in time?' Doug replied, shuffling towards the man of the moment.

Again the noise, more frantic than before, as though it were trying to get to them, as though it could smell them and taste them.

The torch was a little blue owl. When the button was pushed it hooted, in a rather funny way, before laser blue lights shot from its eyes.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Doug looked at its owner, stood with Karen.

'What can I say,' the bus driver grinned, 'it was a stocking-filler from my mum. I like him ... His name's Mister Tweet and he's very useful, as you can see ... And he might be all I have left, so look after him, please ...'

'Thanks, Ben, I'll look after him ... I promise,' Doug quietly replied, knowing the younger man was probably right.

So, anyway, back to business, as the noise continued in the dark, the noise that was louder and nearer.

Towards it, Doug hovered, with the palm-size, blue-eyed owl, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Christ, what he wouldn't do for a beer. Long, cold, sat in a pub garden with the sun on his face. Nice thought, but not going to happen.

Into the rear of the hut he slipped, step at a time, no rushing. The torch flicked, side to side, so no nastiness in the dark. Deeper still, his shadow cast across the room behind, haloed in a blue sheen than fluttered and twitched.

Still looking and waiting. He stopped as the noise stopped. It was right before him, just there somewhere. He stitched the light off for a second in hope it might return.

'Doug ... Doug,' Yoyo called as quietly as he could. 'You okay round there? ... Doug ...'

No answer.

'... Doug ...'

'I'm okay ... Stay there ...'

Yoyo stayed, as told.

Blue light glowed once more, a sign all was well. The three behind huddled together, their combined sigh an audible event, loud and weighty.

Standing before a wall-length, steal cabinet, Doug browsed around him. Looking in cracks and up on high, he checked enough to be sure there wasn't anything hiding beyond the blue beams.

Dragging one of the creaking doors ajar, the tool was raised and ready to inflict pain.

It leapt at him, its need to be free so great.

'BALLS,' was one shouted word from Doug as he dropped Mister Tweet, just prior to being set upon by the ravenous monster.

The baby rat saw the faint light and scarpered for it, using whatever means of escape necessary, whether it meant bouncing off man or beast, it didn't matter. The building was exited via the vine through the roof, up and gone for good, never to return. Serves him right for playing where he shouldn't.

The main building consisted of two double static units, artistically joined to create something that resembled a bungalow from a distance. Raised off the ground slightly, there was a small decked area to the front, with a table and chairs and a few potted plants. Doug knocked, because you always have to before forcing your way in. While they waited, the others looked around the property and checked through the windows for any kind of internal movement.

Yoyo, being a lazy git, took a seat and rolled a smoke, while the others ambled and Doug tried the strength of the double doors. Next to him sat an array of various small pots, some with lavender, a few with winter pansies. He picked up the middle one to sniff the yellow and black blooms, his eyes closing with the action. Putting it back down, he saw it.

'Hey, Doug ... Would this help?' he asked, moving from his resting spot to join the man at the door.

'What?' Doug said, his head turning to look at Yoyo.

'This,' the youngster grinned, dropping the small key into his hand.

'Don't tell me ... Under a flower pot,' Ben chuckled, joining the others at the entrance.

Yoyo nodded his reply as he watched Doug try it. Sure enough, it was the one for that door, and in they all went.

Fresh water gushed from the cold tap, but there was no way of heating it, the power confirmed as out. They found food, tins of beans and sachets of soup too, along with some dry crackers and a few packets of peanuts. It wasn't much, but when added to what they already carried, it was enough.

'It's a holiday let maybe, or a Granny Annex,' Ben surmised, using his owl torch to look around. '... And try the kitchen cupboards, there might be torches or candles stashed somewhere.'

Slowly, they settled in, the night heavy around them. Lamps and candles were located, the light a nice welcome to the living room. Old blankets were found in a bedroom unit then pegged over the curtains, mainly to keep the bitter cold out, and a bedspread covered the door, helping to keep their body heat in.

'Hey, look what I found in the bathroom,' Yoyo smiled, walking back to his cohorts, carrying the small metal tub. 'Can we open that skylight, there, and build a little fire in this? If we raise it off the carpet with bricks from outside, it should give us enough heat ... What d'ya think, reckon it'd work?' he asked everyone, their faces looking his way as he returned.

They all agreed it could be an answer, but they decided to keep the embers to a minimum so they didn't burn through the bottom, or smoke themselves to death.

Slowly the warmth crept in, as the lights lowly flickered, and sleep touched all their tired eyes. All had taken the vote, and all had agreed. If you needed to go for a pee or pooh, it was to be done out there, in a hedge, at the rear of the unit, and as far away from the front doors as possible.

Karen should never have gone into the darkness for a wee, not without some bog roll and a guardian anyway. Such a small thing had become a big thing. Less than two days ago she had a nice aqua coloured bathroom with all the posh chrome fittings. Standing in the dark and freezing cold, and being holed up with three strange blokes while the world went to pot, her old life seemed a lifetime ago.

The brothers saw her before she saw them, with her mumbling to herself and feet crunching on gravel. Waiting until she touched the true depth of night, Bret and Craig coiled their trap, slowly pacing their way around.

They appeared together, from the shadow, one wielding his small axe, the other, his long bladed hunting knife. From the look on their faces only one thought was residing in their minds. The atmosphere, being one to not take lightly, was raw and angry, an open wound with added salt.

As she stood, petrified to the spot, the woman knew why they were there. They didn't need food, they didn't want water either, and they certainly didn't look like they required any help in surviving. Their eyes blazed as they circled her like a moon, their teeth seeming bright white against their filthily shaded faces. Sounds came as snorts, they grunted and sniggered.

A weapon in one hand, a burning crotch in the other, being pushed down to hold it back, it was almost animal, their snarling and drooling. Was it a way of scaring the prey into submission perhaps? Whatever the desired effect, it was working well enough, the bitch had already peed her pants.

Her tears rolled as she spun and swiped with her acquired blade, and though she stood her ground and played their game, she knew she couldn't shout for help. What was the point? By the time her friends heard and reacted, she would be dead anyway.

As Craig lunged towards her, she swept backwards and up with her clever, her wrist being grabbed by Bret. Before she was even aware of it, she was going down, face first, chin to the dirt. They were on her like wild dogs on red meat.

A smelly rag was rammed into her mouth as she tried to bite and snarl. Her arms were bent up her back, to the point of pain, and then tied in place with cord, which was looped twice around her throat. In this way, should she try pulling her hands free, she'd eventually strangle herself. They both like that too, the agony that screwed up her face. If she thought that was pain, she hadn't lived yet. The best was yet to come, literally.

By the legs, facedown, they dragged her beyond the moonlight, off into a more secluded part of the garden, the darker end, into the shadows. Kicking and wriggling made no difference, their combined strength enough to overpower her any day of the week. Though the brothers knew it was futile, she felt she should cause as much damage as she could, before being raped to death by two rancid twins.

From behind, her right cheek became squashed against wet turf, as Craig's big sweaty palm, to the other side of her face, rendered it so. The gag was dirty and dry, welding itself to her tongue and teeth, making it impossible to remove without pulling it free. She'd taken some slaps and punches, and that last one had definitely winded her, but she would kept trying all the same.

Laughing aloud, Craig leant forward, grabbing a handful of her hair in his fingers, and then yanked her neck back just enough to see her face, her eyes wide, her nose bleeding from the punch she had previously received.

The night, and those in the shadows, heard those noises, and it reacted to them. Slowly it came forward, held back by the moonlight only. Watched, it did, everything happening, the movements, the actions, the way the small one hurt, the way it never gave up. Yet the others, the two, they were not a line of light, they were darkness themselves, as dark as the one that watched.

Bret, with his big knife and his trousers on the verge of being undone, stepped forward and kicked the bitch over, to be facing up towards him and his brother. Together they would take their time and have some fun. The bitch was done anyway, as he looked down at her laying there, her face bleeding and one eye going black. Who would want her afterwards anyway?

As one knelt, the other watched on.

'Don't keep wriggling ... It's gonna hurt you whatever,' Craig laughed, grabbing her jeaned hips and dragging them towards him.

Behind, against the vine and curving the corner of the lofty hedge, a shadow massed, lingering near but away from the light. It knew, and it saw what they did, that two. It heard the weakened one's howl, the howl it didn't like, and it was enough.

The light she carried dimmed and wavered, an act that could not be. In a higher form, the night would be the victor of the game about to start. No rules were required, for there were none, just justice. Such mindless behaviour could not continue, her inner light was all, and it was never allowed to falter.

It parted, as before, in two, away with the shadows, an oily trail, circling towards what was unravelling across the lawn. No marks to be left, as they rode a path through the branches, their slickness lost to the darkness they craved.

An easy approach, for their prey seemed so lost to the task of taking. No need for noise, not when they made so much by themselves. The weaker one, balled and being ripped in half by greedy hands, its fight was waning, it was letting go, falling away inside, into the shadow, into the dark.

From both sides at once, the silent blackness leaked passed blades of grass. It crept on, crawling, reaching, nearer and nearer. First was a booted foot, then onto a sports sock, and finally, the filthy skin.

'... What's that on my leg? ... Urh, get it off ... Get it off ...'

It trickled and tickled, and touched and thrived the more it climbed, around a calf, over a knee, further and further up it went, hair by hair, pour by pour.

'... Yuck, me too, what is it, Bret ...?'

As the twin brothers stood and moved away from the bitch on the floor, they took that one step too far. In an attempt to escape what was slowly covering their lower portions as they watched, they had inadvertently placed themselves in the very spot required for their own demise, the place of their final stand. There was no escape for them, it was over.

Karen, hardly able to move from the beating and other abuse received, was on her side, her hands suddenly free and her throat not strangled. Sitting in the patch of dry oil, she dressed herself and watched as it seeped away from her, to follow in the direction of those two who were soon to be on the other side of terror. There were no words to explain what she was witnessing, but her scrambled mind was telling her that the shadows, no, the very night itself, was attacking her terrorisers. How was that even possible?

In horror, she shielded her eyes from what was to follow. The two men babbled as the oil climbed and consumed every tiny part of them, from blood vessel to blister. It dripped and oozed from upper limbs, tacky and sticky, a web from hand to hip. A new sound was heard, tearing, pulling, the gargled cries added to the mix making it harsh and unbearable.

Moving backwards, as a shuffle on her bum, Karen made for the building on the other side of the hedge. Seeing her cleaver, left where it had been dropped, she grabbed it as she made her way to safety. Before her, all was madness. She stopped as their screaming grew to a crescendo, their mouths being ripped open so the sound was spread wide.

Top to bottom, as if theirs seams had failed under the pressure of the pull, they split. In two halves, all the innards left exposed to plop and slither to the floor. What remained was dragged into the shadows, a leg each way, off into the gloom where nothing cared to live.

Silence, but for three blokes running round the side of the shed with various sharp objects clenched in hand.

'... KAREN ... KAREN ...'

Climbing to her feet, as soon as they appeared, a hand lifted to her mouth as her eyes flicked to the spot where those two crazies had fallen. Not a mark, not a drop of blood, nothing, just flat grass where it had all taken place.

'You okay? ... Karen! ... Are you okay?' Doug hurriedly asked, flashing the torch across her bleeding lip and bruised face.

'Yeah ... Yeah, I'm fine ... Really ... I'm good,' she babbled in his direction, her hands on her knees, her breath slowly coming back.

Ben rushed over to her, saying, 'God, I thought you were a goner ... You popped out ages ago ... I was just coming to check on you when we heard blokes shouting ... What was that all about?' he enquired, looking around the lawn area and off towards the end of the garden.

'I'll tell you all soon enough but, first, I gotta go inside ... You won't want to hear it right now, not out here anyway ... And, yes, before anyone says another word, I peed myself, I'm so sorry,' she mumbled in reply, whilst walking passed them all, back towards the bungalow.

### PART TWO - Day 2

### Dead and Ready

Chris Dixon had survived because he was taking two dead bodies down to the mortuary. He hated it down there. It was cold and dank, and always had that awful smell lingering, the one that always stuck to his clothes. Usually, as a male nurse, he would be bleeped back to his ward, his rounds to start all over again. He'd been called in for an emergency on Maternity Ward, a woman was in premature labour and things looked pretty bad.

Things looked pretty bad. It rebounded around his head after the event, the one that changed everything, including his look on life. It's never one thing though, is it? There's always a catalyst to your bad day, and that New Year's Day was no different.

They lost them both in the end, mother and child. There were, let's say, complications. A foreign substance had already caused extreme damage, damage they could never make better, even with all their know-how and fancy machinery. The woman had gone into premature labour after a massive heroin overdose. She had already killed her baby. Her body was merely expelling it before giving up on itself.

Leaving them together, on the 2nd Sub Floor below B Wing, Chris ambled along, checking his pager. As he looked up and turned towards the lift, the world around him suddenly shifted in an odd way, his sight juddering, his whole body almost bouncing.

When the building violently twisted, the tall, metal cupboard, next to him, wobbled then tipped, landing on him, only to knock him out. Considering what was happening around him at the time, it was probably a good thing. He was out cold for hours, the length of time not really known, but when he did finally surface, wiping blood from his hair, he soon realised all was not as it was.

Emergency generators pumped enough juice to power the yellow lighting above. It led him towards the stairwell, over clutter forming a crust beneath his feet. The gash on his head throbbed, but the towel helped to slow the flow, pressed in place, and doing a good job of mopping up. Above he could reach others and get help. He thought of the chaos, the injured already injured, and the babies and the elderly, the list endless.

Pushing through and up the stairwell, he soon reached the first of his many obstacles. Plaster had to be clambered over, huge slabs of it, fallen from wall and ceiling. Getting as far as he could, he had to stop when the stairs did. The whole side of one wall was missing, the treads no longer there. They sat as rubble on the lower steps, having formed the debris he had already clambered over. He was unable to jump the gap, and beyond that was another problem anyway. His path upwards was also blocked.

Back down the stairs, to the floor below, the door was cleared of junk and pulled open. Here, the kitchens cooked up their health conscious meals, the menu as varied as possible. It stored medical records and redundant apparatus, paperwork in boxes, and gurneys galore.

Chris wandered the long corridor, his head turning, his eyes looking. Where was everyone?

'Hello ... Anyone here?' was spoken into the silence, his awareness of that fact growing by the second.

It was more than eerie, it was bordering on surreal, and it unnerved Chris to his very core. Silence is never heard in a hospital, not ever and not complete. There's always noise, chatter, clatter, rumbling, rubber tyres on hard floors, everyday noise, the same as every other hospital in the world, always, both night and day.

Chris looked at his watch. Was that right or had it stopped? If that was the correct time, he'd been out cold for at least ten hours. Lifting his eyes to the clock on the wall made no different, it was no longer there. For a bang on the head from a metal cupboard, which also weighed a ton, he thought he got off quite lightly, if a little damaged round the edges.

Panic is a strange thing. You don't know you're capable of it until it finally hits you. It hit Chris alright, stood in that hallway, looking at his watch, thinking of what had been, and his aching head, and all that debris.

The raging scream burst from him as his wife and step-kids came to mind. If the damage was that bad down there, what the hell was it like above ground? Turning his eyes toward the ceiling, his wail stopped.

An escape route appeared, up and onto the next floor, via a large hole in the ceiling. A sizeable section had dropped to leave a space wide enough to gain access. Below it he stood, eyes lifted, hoping for some form of assistance. Still that weird feeling, which didn't abate, rested there inside, making him nervous. How come it was so bright above, had they installed better strips or something?

'... HELLO ... ANYONE UP THERE ...'

He waited, listening to the echo it made, but there was no one left to reply.

Looking around, the tall heated catering trolley would work. High enough to stand on, he'd be able to pull himself into the Reception area above. Turning his towel into a turban, he dragged the hefty stainless steel cabinet to the spot just below. A chair was then retrieved from a stack and used to clamber aloft. He could just about get there, but he needed a little move lift. Bending over the edge of the metal unit, he stretched down to grab his four legged assistant. With that in place, it was just what he needed to make his escape.

Above ground, well, they are two words that are easily said when you're sat somewhere pretty with a nice view. That's not what welcomed Chris when he finally popped out of his hole in the floor. Reception was a wasteland, stripped back to nothing, blown away and as flat as a pancake. In fact, most of the building was gone. The sun was just lifting over the horizon, as a new day bloomed before him, most of which could be seen whilst standing where the front desk had once been housed.

Arh, panic, there it was again, as his bewildered eyes cast around him, stood alone, seeing what he was seeing. The town, which had once spread before the 1950s construction, no longer existed. Resembling a bomb crater, three miles wide, there was little left to define it as the homely place it had once been. No park, no High Street, no shopping centre, and no roads between.

'What the hell is going on,' was a long wailed sentence, released into the silence around him.

Falling to his knees in the dust, his mind filled with images too horrific to linger on. There was a whole stream of them flash through, each as depressing as the last. The life he had once enjoyed suddenly seemed at an end, everything, and everyone, was gone, there was nothing left, just him.

'You okay, Karen, you still look a little shaken ... Did you manage to sleep?' Doug gently asked from his spot on the bungalow floor.

She tried to smile as she answered, hoping it actually registered on her face.

'Yes and no ... Yes, I'm okay, thanks, but, no, I didn't sleep ... But then, after what I told you all last night, did any of us?' was her calm reply, her eyes looking to the boys then away.

In the hours that had followed Karen's assault, they had bunkered down, all together, in the same place, with little space between them. Head to toe in a square, their retired, alerted to that which lurked beyond the warmth of essential light. Her story, being beyond belief, had not rested well with any of them. Whatever it was out there, playing its nasty games in the dark, was not very friendly, and especially if seen through certain eyes.

Yoyo rolled onto his back. He had found enough airbeds for all of them to rest on, a pump too. His fire idea had also worked, to a certain extent, and had kept them warm, if a little smoky.

'Sweetheart,' he chuckled, 'after what you told us last night, and what we all went through yesterday, I'm surprised we haven't splattered that hip bath with our dinner ... Crap like that just doesn't happen, not round here anyway, it's in films, and usually targeted at the Yanks ... What is going on?'

No one had an answer for that one. They were all in the same boat, so to speak, and hopelessly drifting too.

It was as if a sprinkler behind her eyes had been switched on. Whereas a moment ago she was composed, and ready for a new day, suddenly her features were awash with the tears that had been held back for so long. Her hands lifted to cover her face, her cried gusts coming in sorrowful waves.

Ben moved first, up and towards the woman he cared for. Encasing her in his arms, he pulled her against his chest, his hurt etched across his burning cheeks.

Doug and Yoyo, softening as the heart-breaking sound continued before them, lifted from their seats and moved to the door.

'About time for a piss, is it?' Yoyo asked, clocking the man beside him.

'Reckon it is, don't you?' was replied as the door swung open and their slipped into the dawn.

Outside the air was fresh and sharp, chilly on the lips and tasting of snow in the breeze. The blue sky bathed itself in random puffs of cloud, as a new day started to breach the treetops in the distance.

Towards the east was something else. The town they had all left the day before still burnt, the smoke as black as it was then. Together they stood, facing that way, watching it lift whilst having a pee.

'What's the plan, Stan?' Yoyo mumbled, as the dropping away feeling inside made him hungry.

'Don't know ... Any ideas?' Doug sniffed, finishing and sorting himself out. Stepping aside, he waited for the boy to catch up with him.

'Well, looking that way, I say we don't lose time on that wasted journey ... There's nothing there, not now ... What about heading for the next big town? There's gotta be people collecting somewhere, and the Army must have got their act together by now, they must have ... They always have a save-me centre when there's an emergency, you see it in all the films ... That's what they're there for, to cope with this sort of emergency,' Yoyo surmised, finishing up and looking towards the thick cloud.

'But what if all towns have been hit like that? What do we do then?' Doug scoffed, hoping he was wrong.

'Then we're really screwed, and we'll have to fend for ourselves until we meet up with others ... Sorry, Doug, that's all I have ... What else is there?' the youngster babbled, walking off across the dewy lawn.

The older man stood his ground as the kid walked away. His following words were said into the cold day, their edge, nearly as chilly.

'My kids, Yoyo, my two kids, that's what else there is ... And they'll be scared half to death by now, alone maybe, hurt most probably ... What about them, Yoyo? Are you asking me to leave them behind?'

Doug wasn't angry, not quiet, but he was well on his way. Having been through the grief of thinking they may both be dead, denial had at last kicked in, and his feelings told him that was not so. If Doug knew one thing about his own body, other than the general things felt by most, he knew to trust his good old gut instinct. That told him they were out there, somewhere, and he had to find them, even if the process nearly killed him or Yoyo.

'Oh, God ... You're not gonna start crying on me too, are ya?' the kid chided, his hands lifting to his hips as he turned away.

'No ... But I'm this close to punching your bloody face in,' was spat across the sunlit lawn, aimed at the back of his head, whilst a thumb and first finger gauged a random inch.

'Hey, suck it in a little, there's nothing that can't be sorted, big guy ... I'm not saying that, not at all, you're the one saying that ... Until now, I didn't even know you had any kids, so don't lose your shirt ... It's not worth it, and it's far too cold for that crap out here anyway,' he aired, with an expression on his face that made him look a lot younger than yesterday.

The two men fell quiet, as the sun climbed a little higher, and the breeze brought that awful smell of burning their way, along with the random sound of birdsong and livestock calling.

Yoyo looked at Doug. The man's face was brewing up a right storm, his eyes going squinty as the sun flickered into them.

'So, what we doing ...?' asked the bored adolescent. 'Is there a plan now then? Should we go and share it with the others ...?'

Doug ambled off, heading back to Karen and Ben, Yoyo in tow. With what was to come, he needed a large cup of caffeine before facing that.

'Come on, let's go get a brew and have a chat with the guys, we can decide our next move together ... Karen has a son too, don't forget, and she'll want the same for him as I do for my two ... I know mine are out there, I can feel it, so I have to look, I have no choice, they're my kids, Yoyo, and until you're a father yourself, you won't know what that really means ... Are you a father?' he quickly asked, reaching the decked area.

The youth chuckled, 'Nah, not that I know about, always been careful like that ... I haven't had a woman, or been in a relationship, for a long time. I hang with my boys mostly. That's what it's all about, innit?'

Entering the bungalow, the two men were glad to see Karen was over the worst of her sadness. Once her fears and dread had been cried into half a pack of tissues, things seemed a little easier to deal with. Being a great support in those moments, Ben had helped her shed some of her burden. Listening and hearing her words, he knew he couldn't help save the world, but he felt he could help find her boy.

Having rekindled the small bath fire, they managed to make a round of vaguely hot drinks from what their still had. Misses Portman had been stocking up on the morning of the event, her bags having been picked through on the bus and her salvaged items kept as supplies. Mugs were found in a unit near the sink, they had running water, and packets of instant coffee, whitener included.

Okay, so it wasn't steaming hot, but it was enough, and they were very grateful to Misses Portman for being such a thoughtful shopper. As they sat in silence, sipping slowly, they all had the same thoughts going around inside. Karen had to say something, she had to.

'Look, I know we all have our own agenda and we all have people missing, but...'

'You need to find your son,' Doug cut in, his face as flawed as her's.

'Yes,' she slowly smiled, 'yes, I do ... I know he's alive, Doug, I can feel it, in here, right at the core of me ... I can't explain it, but I know he's okay ... I know he is ...'

As her words were thrown out there, to be liked or not, her left hand lifted to the centre of her chest so her knuckles could rub in a small circle.

'Doug, he has kids too,' Yoyo croaked, 'and we've just had this conversation outside ...'

'Christ, I didn't know that. How many? ... You could have told us,' babbled from Ben, who was sat by the window, looking out into the pretty garden.

Doug spoke to all of them, though Yoyo already knew some of it.

'I have two kids ... Tally, my daughter, is the eldest, she lives with me and turned sixteen last June ... Connor, my son, he was thirteen in December. He lives with his Mum and her second husband ... The deal was, I had them with me for Christmas, then they were both going back to Kimmy's for New Year ... I was due back to work by then, so it all worked out okay, the timing perfect ...'

Doug's eyes dropped to his praying hands as he finished. They were fisted together into a ball of hopes and dreams. Beneath that composed exterior he was going into meltdown. Holding it all together was the only way to find his lost children. Dropping the ball was not an option, his life was over if he did.

'So you know what I'm going through, right now,' Karen softly said in Doug's direction, her calm expression enough to show them she was thinking straight again. 'You know how I feel inside then ... And you know, in your gut, that they're out there, somewhere, waiting ... It's a driving force, and I have to follow mine ... I'm sorry ...'

As if she spoke for him, Karen aired all of Doug's words before he had a chance to use them himself. Glancing at the other faces in the room, silence settled across them as they finished the drinks they held.

'So ... We go look for your lost off-spring then, is that the plan?' Yoyo smiled, looking from Doug over to Karen. 'Really, I don't mind what we do, or where we go, just promise me one thing ... Can we please find them in a place with no dark corners? I can't be going through a story like Karen's, that stuff's all messed up and weird ... If we go, we take candles, torches and sharp pointy things, and we don't sleep anywhere that smells funny ... Spooky and eerie, that's what it is, spooky and eerie ...'

The three people sat with Yoyo, as his statement came to an end, looked at each other before laughing. If Yoyo could do one thing for their little group it was make them chuckle. They packed and readied themselves to leave, still smiling, placing their dirty mugs in the sink, not washed, just left.

Not one of them would sleep in a room upstairs. Though there were many, and all made up, they could not leave the one with the big fire, their little nerves not letting them. The couch was pushed away from the space before the fire, then up against the pair of double-door shutters, through which the missing woman had made her grand entrance. There was no way that was happening again, and with the heavy old Chesterfield wedged up against it, it made all the difference.

Tally hadn't slept, not really. As the smaller sprouts snored on the double mattresses from the front bedroom, she was on the couch, facing them, with a storm lamp burning in the corner, keeping it bright, and her knife sat resting on her lap, just for emergencies.

The night had been quiet, after the task of calming them all down, until Zach and James needed to go to the loo. Neither lad would dare exit that room, becoming agitated at just the thought of it. Using tried and tested calming techniques, plus added coaxing, Tally's long night just kept on getting longer. It's at that point she sat them both down and told them she was, secretly, a Super Hero and had X-ray vision.

'Really, you can see through walls? ... Can you see through me too?' Zach laughed, not caring if he woke the others in the room, still sleeping.

He was just old enough to understand, at the age of six, and he totally believed in the whole concept of a Super Hero. Capes and masks, and flying through the air, all of which were a wonder to him, and all of which he wished he could do too.

James on the other hand wasn't so sure. He looked at Tally, his mind working away, his face changing with the process.

'Tally, if you're a Super Hero, why didn't you save my Mummy and Daddy?' he quietly asked, not wanting to sound as sad as he felt.

In through the nose, and out through the mouth. Tally's sigh was so loud, it made Connor flick from his dream, his head lifting to check the room. Baffled by his unfamiliar surroundings, his eyes looked for his sister.

'Hey, you guys okay there? ... You need my help with anything?' was softly whispered with his eyes half open, as he scratched a patch on his neck, and his hair stuck up on one side.

'Nah, we're good over here ... You go back to sleep, it's nothing you don't already know,' she smiled, remembering the day she told him and how he reacted.

'Okay, fine ... And try to sleep, you looked trashed,' he mumbled, dropping back into his dreaming position.

Sitting together, with the two little ones in awe of Tally, she explained how she could see spaces beyond walls to make sure there were no monsters hiding. Sadly, she wasn't the type of Super Hero who could fly down and save you. Her ability was limited to being able to look into the darkness, but then only for a certain distance. Skinny arms like her's would never lift a bus or train, there was no flying for her, and those skinny legs would never bound her over tall buildings or burning bridges, she only saw things, that's all. There were times when it was really useful, two examples being when Dad lost his car keys and Mum couldn't find her new engagement ring.

'Where were they? ... Where did you see them?' Zach enthused, his chubby face full of excitement.

Tally smiled, 'My Dad's keys were under his bed, and Mum's engagement ring had been knocked off the unit and rolled to the edge of the carpet ... They were there, but they couldn't see them ...'

'Wow, but you did, you knew they were there, you could see them,' bounced from the small boy. He finally understood.

'So, anyway ... You need to go, so let's get you gone,' Tally grinned, as James started that bouncing and grabbing of his crouch thing beside her.

Trying again, after looking into the hallway beyond the door, she attempted to get them to a room with a bucket. Even suggesting it was wrong, their faces crumbling and their eyes watering. Those two, together, when they cried, it resembled a town siren blaring off. To stop it from starting, Tally left them on the couch and went in search of a container of some form.

Out to the kitchen, she trotted, with her night vision on full beam. Inside the high cupboard by the back door she found the solution, a big bucket. It could be put in the other room, through the wooden partition doors, so they could pee to their little hearts content, and not disturb anyone as they did so, perfect. Before leaving, she snatched six cookies from the open packet, a little treat before going back to bed.

As she pushed her way back into the room with the glowing embers, with her bucket and cookies in hand, she was more than surprised to find no one was up waiting for her. The two boys were back in bed, crashed out, with their little eyes shut tight and their breathing slow.

Tally looked down at them both, snuggled in with the others, blankets tucked in down the sides. Swinging the bucket in her hand, her eyes scanned the room, slowly.

'They couldn't wait ... They peed in the big potted plant next door,' Connor mumbled, his face turning to look at his sister in the glow of the lamps.

'Oh, okay ... Guess we won't need this anymore then ... Shame, and I brought cookies too,' was replied, as she dropped the bucket and wandered over to land heavily on the old Chesterfield.

'Cookies, you say?' Connor quietly echoed over his pillow, his face lighting up as if the candle beside him.

'Yeah, I grabbed us two each, Zach, James and me ... But if they don't want them, well ...'

'I'll help ... I always have room for cookies, you know that ... Toss me a couple, please ... I promise not to get crumbs between the sheets,' he smiled, giving her his puppy dog eyes.

So, she did, and, as they munched their way towards the dawn, talking about how crazy things had become, their Mum and Dad, and all those other people they may never see again, they tried not to think about the missing woman, or what Simon had said about the shadow men.

JD inwardly sighed. Since leaving the nice man, Billy, that morning, he hadn't seen another soul, and he was getting tired of being alone. His journey so far had led him down empty roads and across featureless spaces, as the silence continued around him, cold and bleak, with nothing but birdsong on the breeze, and that nasty smell of burning.

Nothing felt safe, least of all the space that sat before him. The structure seemed as murky as deep black water, bottomless, and without end. He wanted to go home, but didn't know in which direction to head. Looking around him showed no change to his day, or to his view. There was no one to follow and no one to lead, he was totally lost.

He thought calling out would be of no help, and might even make trouble he could do without, as he was too little to defend himself against any oversized attacker. So, he inched forward, putting his head tentatively through the splintered gap at the bottom of the door, and sniffed again.

What did he learn? Well, first off, he was really impressed by how brave he was being, and partly amazed that he had managed to stand there for that long, looking into the nothingness before him. Then, next, there was that tempting whiff of something nice to eat. His head had lifted as his eyes slowly closed, his mouth watering as it trailed an invisible line up his sensitive nostrils, the aroma getting stronger by the second. The taste lingered in the air around him, coaxing him further, further still, right across that worn welcome mat.

He must have hit a trip-switch or a sensor, or something like that. As soon as his weight rested on the 'c', the floor dropped away from beneath him, and he was falling, down, down into a dark pit, a pit that was edged with a sticky, smelly cage. What little light there was from above was suddenly snatched from sight with the slamming of the hatchway. There was no escape, there was no way out, and he had a horrible feeling someone would soon be along to check. In his pit of darkness, JD really hoped it would be the nice man from before. Sadly, that wasn't to be.

Eventually someone came. The sound of their footsteps rumbled through from far away, slowly drawing closer. JD sat in his dark confines and wished, above all his other wishes, that he would be freed from that dreaded space. Sadly, that wasn't to be either, which became apparent when the hatch above was suddenly yanked open, and two faces peered down at him.

'Arh, not much meat on him, is there?' the old woman almost whined. 'That ain't gonna see us through till the weekend, he's too skinny ... We'll have to bulk him out with extras ... There's always couscous ...'

'Not bloody couscous again, can't we have savoury rice or pasta instead ... I sodding hate couscous, it don't taste of anything, it never does,' moaned the middle-aged man stood beside her.

'That's a lie ... You loved it when I put all that thick badger gravy over it with the onions, remember?' she bounced back, looking into the pit, the one occupied by a quivering JD.

'Oh, look,' the man crooned, 'he's as scared as a little mouse sat in the jaws of a lion ...'

'Yeah, well, you ain't keeping him ... Look what happened when you got close to the last one ... You were all upset when it came to me using the axe ... No, we're not going through that again, so don't name it, talk to it, or even look at it ... It's food, and like I always bloody say to you ... Don't play with it ... Okay!' the old lady instructed. 'Now, get that bloody cage up here and let's get going ... Tyler should have the knives sharpened by now, like the good boy he is, so no more silly talk.'

So, the cage was dragged up, using the hidden winch sitting above them on the ceiling, and easily missed if not searched for. Upwards into the light he rose, whilst his stomach remained down there, hiding where no light could reach it. Left in it, quiet and cowering, he was then dragged out to a car, and a nice car it was too, with its sleek leather interior of grey and charcoal.

They dumped him on the back seat as if a bag of dirty laundry, to then be prodded and pocked through the bars, as they laughed and ridiculed him. There was no relief, no path to freedom, he was captured, treated like steak to be roasted or boiled. And, as the car jumped into life, JD wondered, whilst huddled in his smelly cage, how much of his own life was left to be lived.

At the end of his most miserable of journeys, he was dragged out and dumped on the tarmac. Until then, JD had no idea of his surroundings as he was unable to see anything at all. A sheet had covered the cage, as he bounced and bruised against the bars, the trip seeming to take a lifetime. What he was sat before, as his eyes lifted for the first time, was an old pub, one that seemed empty and boarded up.

From nowhere a young boy appeared. He was tall and blonde, with dimples in his cheeks when he smiled at the couple stood beside the caged JD.

'Okay,' he grinned, looking down at the forlorn face looking up, 'makes a change to squashed road kill ... I ain't doing the killing and gutting though, Dad, I chunked up the last one ... And so you know, the knives are done, Grandma, just like you asked ...'

'Arh, see, Robby, didn't I say Tyler was a good boy?' she smiled, gently patting the teenager on the back, her smile beaming and her face all aglow with love for that one child.

'Yes, you did, Mum, and I totally agree with ya,' Robby smiled at his son. 'Now, Tyler, help me in with this, will ya, please? ... Your poor Gran shouldn't be lifting heavy weights, not at her age, there's a good lad ...'

Together, father and son moved their dinner off, around the back, to drop it through another hatchway and down, into the world that lay below. Whimpering, upon sight of what was to come, JD couldn't help but urinate where he quivered. Inside, he howled, his eyes watering from the pain it induced. It sat within him, a bundle of fear, all knotted up and crushing the very breath from his lungs. Hell had truly climbed above ground and, from where JD was sat, it was about to consume him before the weekend.

'Why do we only ever have rotten meat to eat? Can't we have something nice from a tin for a change,' Robby moaned, looking at the freshly stripped dog carcass hanging from the hook before him. He'd gutted it that morning, found it in the road, dead and ready.

'It's easy meat to find, dear ... Always thinking of your stomach, you are, same as this little morsel, probably,' was his mother's smiled reply, whilst digging JD in the ribs with a long carving fork as he cowered in the rusty cage, his eyes not looking up.

They prattled on, about meat, about life in general. The things they were saying, JD came to realise they had been living there, in that derelict pub, long before the world went crazy. The things consumed, such as what was found dead in the road and the missing pets of the area, was about to have something else added to the list, something that tasted just like JD.

The bus gang headed in the direction their gut instincts told them to take. Oddly enough, both Karen and Doug where compelled to go the same way, heading south, away from the town. If you asked, they couldn't tell you why that road. That's just it, they didn't know themselves. Whatever it was, it drove them on, through an empty village, with its quiet houses and quiet drives, and on, to find the children who were lost out there, somewhere.

Banter was light, their voices kept low, as they marched into a new day, they remaining supplies in bags and pockets. Water bottles were replenished before taking off, and extra knives lifted, for those moments when you really needed one. Two by two, as animals towards the ark, they teamed, Doug and Yoyo out front, yapping about cars and work, then Karen and Ben, following behind, recalling telly programmes and silly radio shows.

The sun was kind on their journey, but the chill was still a bit fresh. It crept in, up sleeves and down backs, its icy finger leaving its line. The land was in slow motion, waiting for the warmer months when spring would bounce into being. Until then, not much was happening, though the livestock seemed to be enjoying the lovely weather.

Reaching a T-junction, their kit was dropped on a grass verge as they sipped from water bottles and sat awhile. Doug stood and took in the countryside, the land stretching across the vale, off towards the south. While he was seeing what was about, the others talked in the background, their banter a nice sound in the warm sunshine.

Moving away from the group, towards the other side of the road, Doug's eyes checked something in the distance.

Yoyo watched him there, Doug's eyes drawn away from them towards something else. Standing, he ambled over, his water bottle swinging in his hand.

'Want some water, Doug?' he asked the other man, whose attention was in the direction he was facing.

'No ... Thanks ... Ere, can you see that, over there?' Doug mumbled without turning. 'There's something in the trees, stood at the edge by the brambles ... I think it's watching us ...'

Yoyo stared off towards the far edge of the field before them. Standing on the high verge gave a good view across the vast spread of empty meadow.

'Yeah, it just moved again ... Looks like a bloke ... It's not a cow, I can see that from here ... What do we do?'

Doug turned to look at the lad stood beside him. The sunlight washed across his features before he wandered back over to the others.

'... Keep walking until he catches us up,' was all that was said, as Doug picked up his gear and smiled slowly. 'Come on, we should get going ... If he causes us any issues we'll deal with it then ... Otherwise, he ain't our problem ...'

What did Chris Dixon have left? It was a question that sat inside him, balled up into a big brick. He kept it hanging there to push him forward, across rubble strewn streets, passed crushed houses and burning wrecks. Walking in the vague direction of home was a mission he never thought he would be facing any day soon but, as he headed for the west side of town, he lived in hope that all was well in his little house.

Following the road that had once led towards Oxford, Chris knew he had a long walk ahead. Wearing his messy hospital scrubs, he partly froze as he wandered, dazed and confused, towards the only thing he could focus on, home.

Exiting the remains of the town, he was grateful to be away from that never-ending silence. The further away he walked, the more normal it felt. A robin was singing its little heart out, up in a tree, his sweet song filling the sky and carrying on the breeze. Chris smiled to himself, not everything was dead then, so maybe there was still hope.

Making it as far as the petrol station in flames, he turned left at the roundabout, homeward bound. Forecourt cars blistered and banged, as the heat affected their nice new paintwork. The showroom was ablaze, offering burning saloons and a nice range in torched soft-tops.

Off along the A40, he tramped, his feet almost propelling him towards the prize, which was hopefully sat there, at home, waiting for him. His Kimmy came to mind again. Arh, his lovely Kimmy, the woman he would walk a million miles for, if not about fifteen. She was safe because he could feel it, her and her two kids. They were all fine, he was sure of it, and were probably wondering where he was, gone all that time. It was only meant to be for an emergency eight hour shift, that's all. She must be worried half to death already.

Pulling his mobile from his pocket he checked it again, still no reception, not one bar, nothing. Pushing it back out of sight he tried not to think about anything but her and those kids. If he could reach them, all his fears and woes would be over. To be back in the arms of the ones he loved, well, he just had to get there, and that was a mission in itself.

Heading for the slow inclined hill, half a mile ahead, he walked through the small, quiet village. Though everything seemed normal, it wasn't. The place was spooky without people and cars. No one milled about or popped to the shop, not a rambler in sight or the pub open. Nothing stirred, except the grazing sheep in the field adjacent to him.

Stopping before one of the silent shops, he lifted a hand to shield his eyes. Peering through the grime caked window he clocked the country casuals and chunky fleeces hanging from a rail. Instantly he tried the door out of interest, sadly it was closed, as the sign indicated. His palms rubbed at his cold arms, the chilly shade being too much to stay in.

'Hey, you, down there, you're not thinking of breaking in, are you?' came the voice from up above.

Chris spun on the spot, his eyes looking around to find its owner. He was about to reply when the voice came again.

'... I'm up here, man ... Use your eyes ...'

From a small window, in the cottage three doors down, a face popped. It was that of an older man, probably in his fifties, and he was waving a white tissue so Chris could see him better.

'Yes, that's it ... I'm up here ...'

'Oh, hello ... Are you alright?' called Chris, walking to stand before the cottage in question

'Yes, I'm fine ... It's you I'm worried about ... Are you alone?' the other man shot back, his eyes squinting as he checked for others in tow.

'Why you worried? I just got here, what's wrong with that? ... And yes, I'm alone, I only woke up about two hours ago,' the younger man replied, looking up at the other one, still hanging from his upper room window.

'Well, there are two things wrong with that, mate,' he barked down at him. 'First, the world has gone to hell in a handcart, so you can't trust anyone ... Secondly, you've got what looks to be like claret all over you ... And that's another reason not to trust a bloody stranger ...

Chris looked at himself, his shoulder, the front of his green tunic too. The man was right. There was blood, quite a lot of blood, but at least his head had stopped with the leaking.

'Yeah, sorry, it's my blood,' he winced, dabbing at the patch in his hair with the fingers. 'My head was cut when a metal unit fell on me ... I was at work at the time, the hospital actually ... I started walking home but the cold caught up with me ... Everything I had, I lost back there ...'

Chris stood in the empty road and spoke up the bloke who was watching his every move. The air was quiet and still around him when he finished, the cold gnawing at his bones.

'Please,' he continued, as the other man looked down, 'all I wanted was a thick coat or something to keep me warm ... I've a long way to walk today, and the sooner I'm home the better ...'

Without warning, the man disappeared from his window with a, 'Stay there ... I'm coming down,' thrown in his direction.

Chris waited, looking around him, watching for the gent through his front room window. He had to chuckle when he stormed forth to unlock the small door. He was holding a garden fork in his hands, to be used as a weapon if needed. It stayed where it was until his was happy with the behaviour of the stranger he was letting in.

'Any sudden moves and I'll have you,' barked the man, his beady eyes peering through the small pane of window glass, whilst studying the tall newcomer.

The door was yanked open, his entry permitted.

'Really, I mean you no harm,' Chris tried to smile, whilst being pointed in the direction of a seat. So, he sat, not wanting to be prodded in any uncomfortable places.

'Do you drink tea?'

'Tea, yes, I drink tea,' Chris replied.

'Good ... Then I'll put the kettle on ... You take sugar and milk, or would you prefer cream?'

Chris was amazed. One second he thought his life was over, due to being impaled on a garden fork, and the next, he was being asked if he would prefer milk or cream. The man was right, seems the world had gone to hell in a handcart.

'What's your name, lad?' the elder enquired, carrying the tray over to where the younger was looking at the knickknacks around the small and cosy room.

'Sorry ... My name's Chris, Chris Dixon ...'

He walked back to the kitchen, grabbing a bowl of clean water and a tea towel. When he returned he placed them on the low table next to the quiet young man.

'Well, nice to meet you, Chris ... I'm Billy, and welcome to my small abode ... It ain't much but it's warm when the fire's lit,' the man babbled, rolling up his sleeves.

'Well, Billy, it's nice to meet you too, and thanks for the tea ... And may I just say, what a lovely place you have here ...'

'Thanks ... Just moved in this morning, and you're welcome ... Found it empty along with all the others, you're the first person I've seen since this all happened ... I liked this one most, mid-terrace, three bedroom, no power but it has bottled gas on supply ... What more could I ask for?' he half chuckled. Moving towards Chris he continued. 'So, you came from the hospital, you say ... How is the town, I felt the blast over by March Hill?'

'There's no town left, Billy ... What's left is in flames ... The people are gone, there's nothing there, it's been wiped out ...'

He looked up at the man, whom had let him into his new house, with a sideways glance, shifting slightly in his seat.

'Don't fret, lad, I'm only gonna check your head ... Least I can do, while you sit with your drink ... Warm yourself up, you have a long walk, don't forget ...'

Chris smiled, his bonce being placed in the hands of another. Billy was very gentle, and managed to get most of the blood from his matted strands of brown hair. The damage done was enough for a two-day headache, the cut in his scalp about an inch in length. When he'd finished he sat opposite Chris to drink from his own china cup.

'Same as after the war then ... The place was flattened back then and everyone displaced ... Probably the bloody Russians or the North Koreans ... They're always looking for trouble, either of them lot ... Bloody travesty, that's what it is,' Billy crooned, thinking of what lay beyond his newly acquired thick brick walls.

'Hey, you're still here, I'm still here,' Chris smiled, 'that's a start, isn't it?'

'No army or police though, is there? Where are that lot when you bloody need them, aye?' Billy sadly stated, and he was right, where were they?

'I don't know, really, I don't ... All I know is I have to make it home today. My family will be worried and I've been gone too long already.'

Chris looked through the window as he said his peace. The day was galloping away from him, and he had not even scaled that first hill.

'Look, this had been great, and I really appreciate the tea, but I have to get going, I'm sorry, Billy,' Chris jabbered, readying himself to leave.

'No, I totally understand, son, good luck and travel safe,' he smiled in reply, lifting from his chair. 'Before you go ... I'd like to give you something ... It's nothing fancy but it should keep you warm on your way home ...'

Going to the hallway door, Billy opened it and stretched up to the hooks holding a line of coats. Pulling one free, he walked back and offered it up to Chris, along with a woolly hat and long scarf.

The younger man took the items, thanking Billy, and put them to good use. Once clothed, he turned for the door.

'Have you drinking water for your trip, or food supplies, in case you can't get back tonight?' Billy queried, his face showing all the signs of his true concern.

'No, no, I haven't, now you come to mention it,' Chris chuckled, almost amazed that he was attempting the journey without either in place.

Billy wandered off again, shortly returning with a small rucksack. Stomping back to his kitchen, he rifled through a few cupboards, retrieving several food stuffs and an old plastic bottle. After topping that up from the tap, everything was packed and handed over, ready to roll.

Chris nearly cried at the thought alone, not merely the gesture. Staying quiet, watching the man move around the room in an effort to help, it was enough to render him speechless.

'Billy, really, it's too much, please, don't leave yourself short ... You've done so much for me already ...'

'Nonsense, too much ... If it helps you get home to your family then I've done my part ... Same as this place though, it ain't much but it's better than nothing,' he grinned in reply, his eyes twinkling in the light from the window. 'Now, off you trot, before the day buggers off and leaves you stranded ... Safe trip ...'

They walked to the door, talking. Opening it, Billy stood back for Chris to exit. The young man took that few paces and closed the door slowly.

'I'm not leaving you here, come with me ... Do you own a car?'

Billy chuckled before replying, until then there had been no thought of moving on. Thinking about it, maybe it was a better idea than staying there alone.

'No, no, I don't, but I know someone who does ... Follow me,' was said, as he turned back through the house and out towards the rear garden.

Coming to a halt by the fence, he pointed to a few doors along.

'There's one car left in the village and it's theirs ... It's still parked up in the backyard, you can see it from the rear bedroom window ... Their house is the same as all the others, empty ... Everyone has gone, Chris, so I know they won't miss it ...'

'So, all we do is break in, take the keys, and we're off, right?'

'Arh, yeah ... But, it's not quite that simple,' Billy grinned, still looking along the line of back gardens toward the property in question.

'Oh, God, go on then, tell me ... What's the bloody problem now?' Chris almost whined, in exactly the same way his teenage step-kids did sometimes.

'Urh, they have two dogs ... And they're really big and really angry, and bark a lot if you go anywhere near that place ... That's how I know there's no one in, someone would have shouted at them to shut up by now, but there's no one there, I promise you that,' Billy explained, turning to Chris. 'So, if you can come up with a plan that doesn't include harming them in anyway, I'm in ... Otherwise, screw you, mate ...'

Chris looked from the house back to Billy. They needed those keys so they needed a plan, a good plan. Smiling, he turned to head back into the house. He spoke as he moved, Billy following after him.

'Quick question ... Does this house have a medicine cabinet in the bathroom?' he grinned, heading for the upper floor.

Billy stopped by the backdoor and watched the man taking the stairs.

'Yeah, it does ... But you won't find it, not up there ...'

Chris stopped, mid case, and turned to look back, a puzzled expression sitting on his face.

'Mate, this place was built before your Grandfather was born, so the bathroom is down here ... You walked right passed it when you came in ... Anything I can help you find?' Billy offered, watching the other man walk back towards him and into the room to his right.

Chris opened the door and rummaged around in the wall cabinet. Pulling a small pill bottle from a shelf, he turned to his new friend and held them before him, suspended by the lid.

'Nope, just found what we needed ... Two big dogs, did you say?' he smiled, to which Billy replied with a nod. 'Okay, not a problem ... Five of these, each, and they'll sleep like bonny babies ... Now all we have to do is get them into the mutts themselves ...'

'Got that covered already,' Billy chuckled, 'there's two tins of dog food sat under the sink ... I've been keeping them for a special occasion, shall we crack them open for New Year?'

Chris laughed as he followed Billy into the kitchen, the tins to be placed on the counter along with the pills. Once the two of them had prepped it nicely, between two soup dishes and with the pills pushed into the dog meat, their amazing plan, to liberate a set of car keys, was ready to be put into action. So, out through the back they moved, onto the rear yard, to walk three doors along, to the noisiest house in the village.

For long periods of time JD was left alone, in his cage, in the dark, and that was just fine. The family of eaters had their routine, and it was one JD was slowly getting to learn. Only the messy business was conducted downstairs, for example, the caged and delectable, the killing and butchering, the gutting and skinning. Upstairs, they lived as every other family, meals at the table, family conversations, games and gatherings, giggles and laughs. Above, all was normal, nice and clean, below, well, hell reigned down there, and Satan was three different people all at the same time.

They were feeding him to fatten him up, that was what the old lady told him, when she last came down with a plate of scraps. Those, he did not touch, they smelt funny. He would not eat anything that smelt off or funny, that was the rule. Whatever was in that dirty dish, it certainly would not be going anywhere near his hungry mouth.

When the stairs creaked he awaited another tirade. The verbal abuse had happened from the start, and caged up the way he was, it seemed to give them added amusement to treat him the same as a sentenced criminal. Any sound he made, any whimper or form of contact was not worth the discomfort. Deeper into himself he retreated, as he tried to forget the life he once knew.

Looking up, Tyler was stood before him, a torch in his hand.

JD squished himself up against the back of the cage, trying to seem smaller. It didn't work, and so the kid stood there, as silent as the room around them, his eyes staring, his mouth smiling.

'Hey, whatever your name is, don't worry, Gran's full of it ... She's so stupid I could put crap on her toast and she'd think it's Nutella ... She might think she's clever, but she ain't all that ... And the old man, don't even go there, he's so thick he couldn't tell the different between a BMW and a Merc,' he chuckled quietly, staring into the cage.

JD, too petrified to move, almost peed where he quaked, his insides burning from the lack of food. His eyes lifted to the boy beyond his bars, his face looking as sad as he felt. Blinking, he saw something in the boys other hand. What did he have there?

'Look, I found you something, and it's better than that rubbish there, if you don't mind tinned ham ... I'm guessing, after smelling that garbage, you're about ready for some real nosh ... The rest is in my room, under my bed, I'll bring more later, it looks like you could do with it,' the kid slowly smiled, lifting a plate to the bars.

Very gently, and as quietly as possible, Tyler forced the stripped meat through the small gaps. They dropped to the bottom of the dirty cage, landing on the urine soaked newspaper.

JD looked down at it, the smell making him lean over a little so he could inhale that lovely aroma of fresh food. He hesitated, his head pulling back a little.

Tyler looked to the door through which he came, his words said quietly so no one would hear him.

'Bloody hell, if they catch me down here now, I'll be slammed in the cage next to you for doing this, I hope you realise that ...'

JD finally picked it up and chomped it down, slice after gorgeous slice. Once they went a few more appeared, the plate becoming empty. He didn't care. In his mind he was already dead meat anyway, soon to be stripped and carved, ready for the pot. He hoped what he consumed was poisoned, thereby missing the process that involved being pinned to a block, with a shiny axe coming down across his poor young throat. As they arrived, he ate, enjoying the flavour for as long as it lasted.

'Hurry up and don't leave any ... If the old girl sees it, boy, will we be in big trouble, and around here that means the hooks ... As you can see, they ain't fussy eaters, but that don't mean I'm on the menu, oh, no ... Let them eat that crap, but they ain't eating us ... Anyway, we're getting out of here tonight, so up theirs,' he whispered through the bars to the small face in the dark.

JD stopped munching mid-mouthful, as he looked at the boy before him who was still watching the cellar door. He replayed what he just heard, on a loop, over and over. Tyler's words sounded like they ain't eating us, and, out of here tonight. He was sure of it, that's what he said. It stuck in his mind, those words, feeding hope into a place that had not felt much of late. A tiny ember became a flickering flame. Suddenly he had hope, and that was a good thing, even if he was sat in a smelly, rank, old cage.

Being outside was lovely in the sunshine. The smaller ones, being Simon, Betsy, Zach and James, were running wild around the back garden, and were over the moon to find a little house built in the split branches of an old oak tree. They chased and played, they tumbled and rolled, and the fresh air was enough to cram them all with endless waves of energy. Eat, sleep, play, that was their new life, and they did, to the end of the garden and all the way back again.

Tally had been very strict, they were not to go beyond any fence, and they should never be out of another's line of sight. In other words, they should never go anywhere alone. Having had it drilled into them, every time they left the house, there was no way they could forget, but, there is always one and, always, that single odd moment can have a strange effect on your whole day.

Some little kids can be quite childish in a kidlike way, yet others, as in Zach's case, they can be a little brighter with a tendency to be overly inquisitive. All of them were pretty clever, Betsy in particular, whereas Simon seemed very young for his years, yet he was eight years old. James, the baby of the group, and only just turned four, followed whoever, and he was a sweet little lad, who laughed and cried just like any other kids. All in all, they were a pretty good bunch, but when curiosity nearly killed a kitten, that was when it all changed.

Simon and Betsy had paired off together, and were playing on the swing and slide Connor found in an old shed. Between the three of them, they had dragged them onto the large lawn beside the greenhouse, and were more than happy getting on with it.

Having spent most of the morning playing in the tree house, Zach and James grew bored and wandered back to the kitchen. After raiding the biscuit barrel, they found Tally down in the cellar nailing planks over the inside of the cellar hatch. The noise was too much for the boys, so they went looking for Marty. Off towards the lower field they ambled, looking for the boy with blonde hair. Tromping down the slope, they met him at the old shack, now acting as a wood store.

Quarter chunks, that's how they dropped, the small axe splitting them with ease. That was noisy too, as noisy as the hammering and banging. They rambled away without saying a word, back towards the tree house. Walking passed the backdoor James caught the smell of something nice being cooked. With a rumble down below, he had to know what it was. He left Zach to his own devices as he toddled off, back inside.

Standing, with the sun on his face, Zach watched Simon and Betsy doing their thing. They were having a great time, and Simon was actually talking at last, which was amazing. Trouble was they found they was no shutting him up, the only time he was quiet was when he was eating or sleeping. Once that corked had been popped, it kept flowing out, and the boy hardly took a breath.

Zach didn't want to join in, not with those two. They were okay, but he was in a funny mood and wanted to explore something instead, so he did. Turning away from the house, and those on the lawn, he took the path up the side of the big garage that led to the old vegetable patch. Looking around, to make sure he was alone, he walked to the far end of the polytunnel where the garden met the hedgerow.

Several times he had noticed it, there, at the bottom, and several times he had promised himself he would take a look. As he was bored, and there was little else to do, he saw no harm in doing it then. So, onto his knees he dropped, peering into the badger run, which was a long, dark, tunnel before him.

In went his head, which fitted. What else would fit? Oh, look, the rest of his body. So in he crawled, not caring about what may await him ahead. He could be brave when he wanted to, and he felt okay on his hands and knees, it was a doddle. Through he shuffled, right into the space beyond. Sadly, it wasn't what he was expecting, and he must have had a huge shock when that crate door dropped shut behind him.

'Conn, have you seen Zach, the little sod? He was here a minute ago, now I can't find him,' Tally asked as her brother came in from the garden, carrying more wood for the Aga range and backroom fires.

'Nah, last I saw of him he was playing with James in the tree house ... If you find James you'll find Zach,' was said over his shoulder as he marched off towards the open door.

'No good ... James is upstairs with Simon, washing their hands before dinner, and I know Zach isn't up there, he hates washing his hands, whereas James will do it till his fingers turn to white prunes ... I'm sure that kid's part duck,' she giggled to herself, as Connor ambled back into the room.

'So, he's out there somewhere then, hiding probably ... He'll come home when he's hungry, you'll see,' he tried saying, hoping it would be enough to placate his older sibling.

'Okay, so you won't mind giving him a shout then, please, it's nearly lunchtime?' was said as the potatoes came off the range, steaming and boiled to perfection, ready for mashing.

'Oh, what, do I really have to? ... Why can't you send Marty?' he whinged, his shoulders dropping a little in protest.

'Because Marty is laying the table, like I asked him,' she replied, trying to use her normal voice but failing somehow.

'Okay, okay, keep your apron on, no need to get your tatoes in a twist, not if you're mashing them,' he grinned, making for the back door, quickly, to do the requested shouting.

The flying spud nearly hit him but missed, just, splatting against the doorframe instead.

Skipping out rather speedily, he avoided the second helping, which landed on the step by his foot.

'Nearly got ya ... I won't miss next time,' was spoken through the door, as he made for the garden.

'... ZACH ... LUNCHTIME, you stupid kid ...' was shouted with all the finesse of a bolshie teen from the edge of the lawn.

Betsy was gone, not needing to be told twice. Whipping passed him as though her stomach had not been fed in a week, her feet hurtled her towards that yummy aroma of a lovely lunch.

There was lots of silence but no shouting back, no running, no calling to come and find him, nothing. Connor looked around the garden, he wandered down to the shack, to tell Marty about lunch, and he even called some more as he took a stroll to the very top of the meadow. Where was that blasted kid?

Back to the house he plodded, thinking of his next spot to check. The garages and the stable block, then the tree house again. Maybe he was running between them all, trying to not get caught. So, off he plodded, all the way round the outbuildings, up and down and through and back, still nothing. No sign of him in the tree house, no sign of him over by the vegetable patch. Where the hell had he gone?

Entering, he headed for the dining room, where everyone was sat eating from china plates at the table. Their munching faces all turned his way as he opened the door and strolled in alone. Looking over at his sister, sat at the far end, he spoke, his face seeming to pale with his words.

'Urh, we might have a problem ... I can't find him anywhere ...'

Tally stopped chewing as her cutlery lowered a little. Turning where she sat, her eyes looked beyond the house and beyond the trees. Slowly her sight circled the house, the grounds and the meadow beyond. Connor was right, Zach was nowhere she could see him. As she came back into herself and the room, her gaze shifted to her sibling.

'Okay, so sit and have your lunch before it gets cold ... Marty and I will go have a look in a bit ... Don't worry, we'll find him ... Like you said, he's probably hiding, and in a metal cupboard so I can't find him, the cheeky little ... Either that or he's fallen asleep someplace cosy ... You know how he is sometimes, maybe he just needed some time alone, like we all do now and then,' she soothed, her voice softening for the sake of the younger ones at the table.

'Can I come and look too?' Betsy asked with her little face full of concern for her missing friend.

'No, better not, Moo, you stay here and look after the others for me, you're so good at that ... If we have lost Zach, I couldn't bear losing you too, how would I cope?' Tally smiled, patting the little girl's hand gently. 'But, all the same, thanks for the offer, that's very sweet of you ...'

When plates were being washed and dried, to be stacked back in their rightful cupboards, Tally and Marty were searching for the absent child. Every inch was raked over, every corner, every chest, every foot of storage there was. Under stuff, on stuff, in stuff, behind stuff, they looked high and low, but still nothing. They called and coaxed, they begged and pleaded his name into that sunny day, but even after all that, he still did not appear.

Marty was at the point of weeping, Tally was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. They had shouted themselves horse, yet nothing had been found. Back to the house they ambled, and back to the place where she had last seen him, the cellar.

He banged and kicked, he screamed and shouted, but all his efforts went unheard. Zach was so scared of the dark it hurt, so scared that he nearly weed himself a little bit, but he held it in, trying to be brave. He had seen what the dark could really do. It could slide across the floor and grab you, it could tie itself around you and it could make you cry, like a big baby, and then it could eat you all up, like you were a big piece of cake, all swallowed down, till there was nothing left of you, not even a smelly, old shoe. That's what the dark did, especially to horrid people.

Sat in that nasty black place, he tried to remember all the good things he had done, hoping it might help him out in some way. It did not, the dark was still total and the sides were still fixed. There was no going home to lunch for him, and he wished, with all his might, to not end up as lunch for the dark.

The explosion of shouting and kicking started again with that one thought.

'... LET ME OUT ... LET, ME, OUT ...'

The screaming came as tears rolled down his face, his fear reaching a whole new level. His pounding fists crashed against the reinforced panels, the sound all around him, making it louder. He stopped again, to wonder what that smell was. Ooh, and he was sat in it, and it was very sticky too, especially over his hands.

'It'll be getting dark soon, what we gonna do? We can't leave him out there all night, he'll freeze to death,' came Connor's concerned voice, as they sat at the table, deciding their next move.

Tally, Connor and Marty talked quietly, and they all had that same look on their faces. Betsy, Simon and James were upstairs, playing a board game they found in a cupboard. They were happy and it kept them occupied. It was a case of anything to keep the peace

It was true misery, the not knowing and the not seeing. Eventually the house was almost ripped apart, each room at a time, no stone unturned. Bottom to top they covered every nook, every cranny, under beds, in the closets, and they called and called, and then they searched some more. The attic space was empty, except for a few manila boxes that had blankets and quilts stuffed into them. An old 1930s single wardrobe sat against one wall, the maker's name still visible inside its door. Checking the cellar, where Tally had last seen him with James, they found as much as they had in the rest of the rooms. Zach simply was not there.

'Well, we've covered the whole house and gardens, three times ... We've looked everywhere, up, down, all around ... I don't know where he's got himself stuck, but I do know one thing,' Tally replied, 'if he's not back soon, we'll have to call it a night ... There's no way I'm having us lot wandering around out there, in the dark, looking for a silly little sod who didn't listen ... Nah, not after last night with that woman, we're not ... No, no , no ...'

Marty seemed horrified by her words and Connor looked away, knowing she was probably right. It would be madness after what happened the evening before. Nobody in their right mind would search out there, in the dark, not after hearing Betsy's little tale.

'Hey, that's Zach out there,' Marty bleated, 'you said you'd look after him ... You can't leave him out there in the freezing cold, maybe trapped and hurt, you can't, you can't ...'

'Look, I'm not putting more of us at risk ... Zach has to listen and learn, like the rest of us. I don't say that crap because I like the sound of my own voice, Marty, I say it to keep you all safe ... If Zach hears but doesn't listen, what do I do, follow him every time he goes out?'

Tally was not happy about a lot of things, and Zach was most of them.

The boys stayed silent, nothing could be said, and even Marty knew that. Tally was right, again. Okay, she wanted to protect them, but they had to help themselves too, it wasn't all down to her. Zach knew, as well as they did, the state they were all in. With that came changes, changes for everyone, and some of those changes would not be particularly nice ones, but they had to be there. Changes were what kept them together and in a safe place, with food, water, and heat. By breaking away from that, they broke away from the first of the house rules, don not go anywhere alone.

Zach had gone off alone, as he had been told not to, by Tally, a hundred times that morning. Had he listened to her, when she first said it, he would not be wherever he was, lost and alone, and maybe trapped in some awful place.

For whatever reason, eventually, Karen and Doug knew they had to turn towards the west. If that was the way they felt it lay, then that was the path they all took, in that direction. So far they had made it a fare few miles, most of which was pleasant enough. The day had stayed nice, as they marched along, which was always an added extra. Though still chilly in the shade, it was lovely in the sunshine, and warm too, when out of the cold wind.

The path they took led up a gentle slope and over into an empty field. From where they stood at the top, they could see down over the vale, stretching off towards the distant horizon. Tall, naked trees spread their fingers to the sky, hoping the sun's love would refurbish them all in the months to come. Below, the patchwork of paddocks hatched its way from left to right, the colours changing, brown to grey, then green to beige. Birds circled above, calling and swooping, the blue peppered with shooting darts, their movements hard to follow by eye.

Down the track they headed, to drop onto another lane, sat on the side of the hill. This they followed for about half an hour until they hit the dead end. The old pub was still standing, it still smelt nasty from a distance, and it was still boarded up after all those years. They walked on, wishing it was still open, the taste for a cold beer settling on everyone's tongue.

Across the road, onto the path through the woods, they went, always heading in the same direction, always together, and always alert. Their eyes swept as their ears listened, making sure, always checking behind. On they moved, forever forward, never wasting any time. Though they still were unsure where exactly they were heading, Doug and Karen certainly knew the way, and as long as that feeling led them on, that was the way they were going.

'Hey, Doug, stop ... Can you hear that?' Yoyo popped out with, as he ground to a halt on the path and cocked an ear.

When he stopped, they all stopped.

There it was again. It sounded like faint banging, but it was hard to pinpoint where it was coming from. It stopped, just for a few seconds, and then started again.

'Yeah,' Karen almost whispered, 'I can hear it too ... What the hell is it?'

Doug moved to stand with Yoyo, his face looking towards the thickest part of the undergrowth.

'Don't know,' Doug added to the mix, 'but it sounds like it's coming from over there, just behind those trees ... Should we check it out?' he queried.

Three faces turned to look at him, all of which did not seem too impressed with that question.

'Okay ... You stay here then, and I'll check it out ... If I scream, you better, not, come running,' he chuckled, moving off in the noises direction.

Reluctantly they tagged along not really wanting to know what lay before them. It could be anything out there, it could be big and nasty, and might even slide from the shadows to drag them all away. Whatever it was they were about to encounter, Doug was already going in for the kill. With his weapon of choice in hand, he was rough and ready, and, as the sun started to drop towards the hills in the west, that sound they heard kept on getting louder and louder.

Chris had a plan, it wasn't a great plan, but it was a plan. Whether it would work or not was another thing, but having any kind of plan was a starting point, and Chris's plan went something like this.

Billy went to the front door of the house and repeatedly knocked, which brought the two dogs to the front of the property to blare off through the front windows instead of the back. Having already checked over the fence, Chris had taken notice of the cat flap in the backdoor and saw that as his gateway to success.

With the two mutts head-butting the pane by Billy, Chris was free to feed the pilled food through the feline's means of escape, thereby dumping it on the floor for them to find. No sooner did that flap squeaked shut, they were bounding back to the kitchen, barking their brains out with that smell stuck up their noses. Now, having not been fed for at least a day, the dog's appetite assisted the men in every way possible. It was wolfed down in seconds, the floor licked clean.

'Right ... Give them about ten minutes and we're on,' Chris grinned, meeting Billy back at his cottage.

'It must be time for a brew then, what you reckon?' Billy smiled in reply, as he rubbed his hands together quickly.

'Yeah ... Let's have a nice brew, then we can go and check on the sleeping beauties ... That's a marvellous idea ... I'll put the kettle on,' was bounced back, as Chris headed for the kitchen, and Billy rested near the front room window, watching the fluffy clouds meander across the blue above.

Climbing through the undergrowth was a nightmare, it caught on clothes, it snagged their jeans, it raked at their hair, and it dragged red scratch marks across hands and arms. Doug was up front, leading the way, his pruning saw suddenly coming into full affect. On odd occasions he would pause, catching his breath, ready for the next onslaught.

Breaking through the thickest part, they came to a standstill, looking across the small space laid out before them. A high hedgerow ran the furthest side, the berries gone or turned black where they hung. The skinny trees were grey but elegant, missing their summer shade and rustling leaves. Birds dropped down to take a look, to find a grub or just hop to a nearby perch.

'Wow ... Look at that house, it's huge,' Ben smiled, looking beyond and over the barrier. 'Wonder if anyone lives there ... Should we take a look? It might be where the noise is coming from ...'

As his words died away, the banging started again. It was coming from the hedgerow itself. It was sat right before them, right there.

Doug moved first, towards the noise, trying to find it. Ripping at the overgrowth with his gloved hands, he attempted to unearth whatever was making that sound. Thinking it a trapped animal, maybe a badger or a fox, his hands worked fast, tearing at the greenery.

'Come on, give me a bloody hand, it might be dying in there,' he bleated over his shoulder to the others, as weeds flew in all directions, handfuls at a time.

Yoyo wandered over, starting on the other side, his hands a blur to uncover the mystery beneath. Karen and Ben followed in his steps, helping to clear what had been ripped free.

Their digging paid off. When Doug's knuckles hit metal he stopped and looked at the others, one face at a time.

'Looks like a badger trap ... Bloody things ... Least we saved this poor little sod ...'

The heavy metal crate was finally free of its confines, and when the noise started again, they turned their attention to the little voice that accompanied it.

'... TALLY, TALLY ... HURRY ... QUICK ...' came the shout from beyond the door, it was Betsy, and she was upstairs.

All three flew out and up, heading for the voice on the level above. Getting to the upper landing they couldn't see her at first.

'Where are you, Betsy ... Have you found Zach?' Tally called, not knowing what room the little girl was in.

'We're in the end bedroom ... And, no, not Zach, something else ... HURRY,' was her reply, coming from the huge room at the back of the house.

Barging through the door, Tally, Connor and Marty came to a standstill looking at the three kids over by the window. Simon was stood behind James as Betsy kneeled on the floor.

'Look,' Betsy smiled, 'someone's moving around in the trees, the ones at the back of the vegetable patch ... See, I knew it was people, I knew it was,' she grinned, pointing towards the gloom in the distance.

Tally moved forward, Connor and Marty in tow, their faces turning towards where the little girl's attention was focused. Watching for a few seconds, a figure ducked under the hanging branches and walked towards the hedgerow that sat against the plastic tunnel. As that one bobbed down out of view, another one approached, and he was then followed by another two.

'That's four in total,' Connor confirmed, with his forehead nearly touching the glass. 'Let's try the room next door,' he suggested, 'we might be able to see better in there ... I wanna know what they're up to ... They might be trying to find a way in ...'

With that, he turned for the door, and slid from one room to go try the next.

'Look what I found in the unit downstairs ... These should help,' Tally smiled, joining him where he stood, still gazing in the strangers direction.

The small set of binoculars was passed over, giving Connor a far better means of spying.

'What can you see with your sight, anything?' he asked quietly, as his sister took the seat across from him.

'I see the same as you, shapes in the distance, that's all, sorry ... Wish I could give you more,' she smiled in return, as her fingers fiddled with her hoodie zip.

'Ere, wait a minute, they're up to something now ... Why do they keep bobbing up and down? It looks like they're ...'

Connor fell silent, his hands slowly dropping away from his face. One word burst from his lips as he watched through the glass. It came out as a one note affair, and was shouted at the window.

'... NO ...'

Turning, he chucked the binoculars on the bed as he raced for the stairs, leaving his sister where she was sat.

'Jesus, Christ ... It's a bloody kid,' Ben laughed, as the door was flapped open and the horror within revealed.

Thankfully for Zach, up until that moment he was not aware of what he was sitting in, or what had made his hands tacky with that yucky smell. In the second the sunlight poured into the black box, Zach freaked out. Blood and chunks of something really disgusting splattered every inch of the interior, and that little boy had been locked in there with it, all that time.

As Karen reached in and dragged the poor little soul out, his screams wailed into the day, stretching across the hedge, and all the way to the house within sight.

Grabbing at his carving knife, as he flew through the kitchen, Connor scrambled towards the area at the far end of the polytunnel. With Tally on his heels, while Marty remained with the others, they cornered the garage and took the path, their feet hammering towards the hedgerow.

'... YOU PUT HIM DOWN ... RIGHT NOW ... I HAVE A GUN ...'

Connor bellowed his words without thinking, whilst attempting to sound like a grown man. He hoped it might help if the strangers were aware of that fact, even though it was a big, fat lie, and, considering they were out in the country, they might well have had one, stashed away, although one had not yet come to light.

His sister looked at him, pulling a funny face, she seemed unimpressed.

Voices, they heard voices, what were they saying? They couldn't hear the mumbling properly, it was too quiet.

'What do we do now?' Connor whinged, his face covered in the same fear his sister felt.

'We have to stop them, we have to ... God knows what they'll do to him ... They could be right weirdoes who eat kids ... We have to do something ...'

All five faces snapped towards the high hedge when the shout was raised. Zach fell quiet for the first time, still in Karen's clutches, his little arms around her neck. The voice, it wasn't a real man's voice, but put on, as if by a young lad.

'That's my friend ... He'll be annoyed that I missed lunch ... And he don't have a gun, that's a lie,' Zach sobbed, resting happily where he was, hugging Karen.

She had cleaned him up the best she could, with some bottled water and a packet of tissues. Under all the gore and grime there was a rather sweet little boy. Big blue eyes, with a rather cheeky little smile, and the cutest nose they had ever seen.

He grinned as he looked at the kind people who had just saved him a slow death, and given him some chocolate buttons, most of which were smeared over his lower face.

'It'll be dinner time soon ... Tally said she was making a stew ... I love stew, do you?' he asked Karen, as she smiled and bounced him gently, his tears slowly coming to a soggy end.

All eyes turned to Zach, Doug's being the quickest. That name the little boy just used, that was his daughter's.

'What did you just say, little boy?' Doug gently smiled, moving over to stand with Karen and her new friend.

'That's what she said, stew for dinner ... She made the oven work and cooks nice things ... I wonder what they had for lunch ... I like mash, mash is my favourite ... I hope Tally makes more, I really like the way she makes it ...'

Doug was stunned. He looked at the kid, he turned towards the hedge, and then he looked away, his eyes jumping and his brain whirring.

'Little boy, what's your name? You haven't told us yet,' Doug enquired, trying to gain the little one's trust. 'My name's Doug, and this lady holding you, is Karen ... Those men over there, that's Ben on the left and Yoyo on the right ...'

The little boy laughed, 'Yoyo isn't a real name, you're just being silly ... It's a toy on a string that goes up and down ... Nobody's called that,' he giggled.

'Well, he is, and that's him all over,' Ben chuckled, nudging the guy beside him, the one who was not smiling anymore.

'So,' Doug tried again, 'what's your name, little man, can you tell me?'

Blues eyes turned from playing with Karen's necklace to look at the one called Doug.

'My name's Zachary Andrew Pendle, but they call me Zach,' he grinned, before going back to his fiddling.

'Well, Zach, nice to meet you ... Now, let's go find your friends,' Doug gently smiled down at him, as he turned to face that big hedge once more.

Simon was the one to see the strangers walk away with Zach in their clutches. From his spot in the back bedroom, he knew he had to tell Tally and Connor. Marty had been told to keep them all together, but if they lost sight of him he could be gone forever. Not listening to Marty, he ran for the door and raced down and out into the back garden. As he cornered the garage, his voice was in full throttle.

'They're taking him away ... They're taking him away ... HURRY,' he cried at the elder two before him, stood down by the polytunnel. 'Follow me, I know a way through the hedge, round back,' he called, as he headed off in the direction of the meadow behind the tree house.

Connor and Tally sped after him, as he raced towards the old oak and beyond. Up the narrow path, through the gap in the hedge, and onto the hill, they stampeded, hoping to catch the takers of small children.

Where the orchard ended and the field started, that was when all three kids came to a running stop. On the crest of the rise, and slowly walking towards them, were four adults. The one woman in the group carried Zach, who seemed as happy as ever, as three men tagged along behind, chatting as they walked.

The next few minutes were the most amazing minutes of everyone's lives.

'... Dad ... Is that you?' Connor mumbled, his eyes straining to see the man's features.

'Nah ... Dad?' Tally repeated, her face slowly draining of colour.

'... Dad ... DAD ...'

Connor cried that one word into the space around him, as he ran up the meadow, his eyes filling with tears. He shouted it, over and over, for the whole wide world to hear.

'... DAD ... DAD ... DAD ...'

'... CONNOR ... TALLY ... SWEET JESUS ... YEAH ...'

Together they pelted, brother and sister, towards the man charging towards them. Doug caught them, a kid in each arm, as they fell and rolled, and hugged and cried their tears of joy. Holding, kissing, crying some more, laughing, everything at once, the three of them were as bad as each other.

The screaming brought Marty and the others from the upper floor and out into the fading light of day. With the smaller ones hanging back a little, he didn't want them to be in any line of fire, should it get dangerous.

Taking the path, the same as the others, Marty led the way to the top of the orchard. Glancing across into the meadow, where it rose towards the top of the hill, they came to a stop beside Simon. Following his line of sight, Marty had the shock of his life.

That man, who was trying to hurt Tally and Connor, had them on the floor and was wrestling with them.

'GET AWAY FROM THEM ... GET AWAY ...'

Marty rushed for the stranger who had already taken Zach and was about to do harm to his friends. He could not let it happen, not on his watch. Ignoring the other three adults, he was ready to do battle. Then a funny thing happened, and it changed his whole day.

'... Marty! ... MARTY ...'

Turning towards those who had Zach in their grasp, he looked at the woman stood watching him. Slowing to a fast pace, his ears heard and his mind registered the voice and those features. Though the woman's hair was a bit of a mess, he would know that face anywhere.

'... Mum! ... MUM ...'

Zach was handed to Yoyo, who stood there looking lost with a small child dangling from his hands. Karen broke away and raced for the blonde boy charging towards her. They fell to the ground, in much the same way as Doug and his kids had, the same process starting all over again.

Ben looked at Yoyo, cradling Zach. He was amazed they had all made it that far, but more than that, Doug and Karen had been right all along. They knew their kids were out there, somewhere, and having that feeling, that gut instinct, well, it had certainly paid off, and, with senses that sharp, who really needed a stupid map anyway.

Sitting, quietly, drinking their hot beverages, Doug, Karen and Ben, took in the amazement of finding the lost children and a few more besides. Yoyo could not rest, as ever, and was looking at the collectables and trinkets that adorned the shelves and walls, the paintings and the pictures. He paced then rested, looking and seeing, till something caught his attention.

'Hey, Doug, take a look at these photos ... Anyone in them you recognise?' Yoyo grinned, pointing towards a line of framed family snaps that sat on the highest shelf, and very nicely done they were too.

'Well, bugger me! Is that old Misses Portman?' Doug chuckled, clocking that same face, and that same wavy hair, through many stages in life.

'Looks like it to me ... What are the chances of that then?' Yoyo replied, his eyes scanning all the others, old and recent. 'Here ... This looks like it's her getting married, wonder where the husband is ... Dead, d'ya reckon?'

Turning away, Doug walked to the other side of the room and sat on the old Chesterfield, glad of a decent place to drop. He spoke as he made himself comfortable, feet up, fire roaring.

'He might be ... They could be separated of course ... Guess we'll never know now,' he replied, reaching for his hot cup of sweet builder's tea.

Tally appeared through the door, wandered over, and dropped in the space beside her dad. She had been sorting Zach out, she'd fed him till he groaned, then she had stuck him in the tub, sat in the kitchen, to get clean. All the kids had crammed round to hear his tale of the big, black box. Though the gory bits made James and Betsy cringe some, it made Zach giggle more than ever, but then he could, after being rescued in such a monumental way.

'Is he okay, he had quite a fright?' Doug asked, as he looked at the best view he had seen in the last twenty-four hours.

His daughter replied, snuggling into the open space under his arm. She smiled, her face lighting up just like her mother's used to do, her pretty eyes glinting as though cut diamonds.

'Yeah,' she smiled, 'he's alright, just a little shaken ... Simon's in there with him while he takes a bath, he'll call if they need me,' she chuckled, happy in the space she contained.

They could hear the kids in the kitchen, as one bathed, the others cooked up a feast for their friends and newly found family. Whilst looking for Zach, Connor located a decent pair of trainers which vaguely fitted. He wore them with pride as he attempted to create a culinary delight from whatever was on offer.

The adults were more than a little impressed when an array of red wines appeared, to accompany the stew, which cooked on the Aga, along with the tinned potatoes that sat roasting in the oven. There was pudding too, steamed and with custard. From a distance it was a noisy affair, and probably very messy, knowing that lot, but Connor was in control, and they were conjuring up some mouth-watering smells.

'So, talk to me, Tally ... What the hell happened with you kids? ... Where's your Mum?' her father asked her, his heart a whole lot happier for having her within his grasp again.

'I ... I ... I don't know where to start, Dad,' she slowly stuttered, her eyes filling with tears as they lifted to Doug.

'MUM, come and help me, please ... James just tipped the custard powder everywhere ... We need an adult to get him under control ... Hurry, Mum, he's rubbing it into his hair,' was called from the kitchen. Marty was not having a good time.

'Sorry,' Karen grinned, lifting from her seat, 'but I better go and save the kitchen ... Whilst we still have one left.' And off she trotted, out to save them all.

Doug squeezed Tally tight to his side and smiled, 'Now, sweetheart ... Start at the beginning and take your time ...'

So she did.

'Conn and I had been into town, there was a sale at the games shop and he wanted to have a nose around ... You know what he's like?'

Her dad agreed, nodding his head slowly.

'We took the bus home and it dropped us just outside the village, like it always does,' she continued, her eyes closing slowly, the memory instantly there again, the movie playing in her head. 'Mum went to crash the sales in the new shopping centre, she took the dog with her, said she'd back no later than us ...'

Tally swallowed. It nearly stuck in her throat but not quite. She broke away from Doug's hold to grab her bottled water, sat on the table before her. Everyone else stayed quiet as she lifted from her seat. Moving towards the window, she quenched her thirst before saying another word.

'We were nearly home ... Nearly ... Just down the street and around the bend, that's all ... But we didn't make it ...'

A cold silence swept across the room as her next words came into being. Misty eyes closed to blink away tears, the poor kid's explanation enough to break anyone's heart.

'It came in a wave, the fire and flames, like it was sweeping the land clean ... We saw it, stood in the street, miles high, right up, above the clouds, moving in a line, straight towards us ... It didn't touch us, not the blast, not the heat, none of it ... Then suddenly ... They were all gone, vanished away, every single one of them, all those people, just gone ...'

Stopping, Tally sipped quietly as she wiped the excess water from her pale face. Okay, so she did not go into any detail. The grisly bits were a memory she did not need to repeat out loud. Time she buried it in her dark side, time she moved on.

Yoyo was the surprise of the bunch. He had been quiet all that time, for good reason, and Tally was a good kid really, if a little messed up maybe. Moving towards her, he stretched out his arms, offering her a hug. The expression on his face suggested he had been touched by her story, and she had done all that at her age.

As the others looked on, Tally stepped forward and accepted his contact, a sign that she thought he was okay too.

'Where did you find Marty and the other kids, Tally?' Ben gently enquired, not wanting it to seem as if it was an inquisition.

Breaking away from their embrace, the young girl went to sit with Doug once more, her father's nearness suddenly required.

'Marty was outside too, cycling home when it happened, saw the lights and the wall of fire, was saved from it, just the same as us ... We found him on the outskirts, wide-eyed and as white as chalk ... After that, we found Simon, wandering the road covered in blood. He didn't talk much but he's better now ... Eventually we liberated the smaller kids of the village from their locked homes ... That line of fire, it took all the parents ...'

Doug looked at his daughter, only imagining what they had all faced, alone, that day. How they had all survived, those kids and adults, was beyond Doug, but for some reason, they all had.

What Tally told them next was something everyone in the room could understand.

'There was an incident, last night, in this room ... Involving a strange woman,' was a gust of words with a big sigh behind it.

The others looked at her, their eyes seeming sad for the strange tale she told.

'Did you have to hurt someone? Don't be sorry, not ever, sweetheart ... What you did, it's not a bad thing, you kept them all safe, and yourself ... You're all still alive, Tally, when there's thousands out there who aren't,' Doug crooned, smiling at his brave teenage daughter.

'I know, Dad, but it wasn't me, or Conn, or any of the other kids ... It was something else, something not normal,' Tally replied, her eyes taking on a hard edge, as if flints clashed within them.

'What was it?' Yoyo interjected as his face paled.

'I don't know how to say it ...'

'Try,' Doug soothed, his heart aching for his eldest child.

'It was the shadows ... The shadows took her ... That's what the others said ... We weren't here at the time, we, being Conn, Marty and me, we were busy closing a slamming window and crapping ourselves in the greenhouse ... Her scream, it was awful, we ran back but she was gone,' Tally concluded, her face turning to the roaring source of heat before her.

They all knew about the shadows, Karen had already shared her experienced with them. As quickly as it killed it protected. What was it, where had it come from, and why the hell was it there? Nothing could be said, no words were left. Instead, they sat and waited for dinner, their banter changed to the weather.

'That should be enough time, shouldn't it? ... Shall we go see?' Billy checked with Chris, looking at the clock on the mantelpiece.

Chris put his cup down. 'Yep,' he replied, checking the time, 'we should be good to go ... If we try round back we should be able to see them through the kitchen windows.'

Out of one back garden, along a ways and into the next they mooched, their ears alerted to any sound. The way the metal gate clanged shut should have been enough to start the manic barking, but nothing, all was quiet. Peeking through the window showed them all they needed to know. The two mutts were crashed out in the hallway, snoring their afternoon away.

'Okay, what next?' Billy smiled, looking at the dogs in the distance.

'Door and windows first, to see if any are loose or unlocked ... Then we try for the car keys,' was a grinned reply from the man beside him.

They found all of them locked, but one had some movement to it, but it wasn't going to budge open easily, not without some force behind it. Looking around the garden, Billy walked towards the small shed to one side. That was unlocked and held an array of different tools, sat on shelves and laid on the potting bench. He returned carrying a small crowbar, which was sat in a storage box, the item just the tool for the job.

'Will this do?' was said as he marched over to Chris. 'Failing that, it's a brick through the bloody window,' he chuckled, moving towards their chosen port of entry.

'Oh, yes, now that's what I'm talking about ... Nice find, Billy,' Chris enthused, happy with the thought those car keys would soon be in his hand.

Together they worked, with a tweak here and wiggle there, the window not as easy to pop open as first expected. Taking no notice of the dogs, they whittled away at their task, trying not to cause too much damage in the process. When the frame groaned for the last time, it snapped open, free of its feeble lock.

The sleeping Rottweilers, Carmen and Woodsy, were eight years old and each weighted the same as a miniature pony. The tiny cottage they resided in had once belonged to their Mummy, a Miss Jenifer Crawley-Smyth, and she used to work in a big city bank. They were so scared, poor things. Their lives had seemed over, as the fire ripped passed their house, taking their Mummy and all the others with it.

They had hoped, by barking their heads off, someone would hear and come to their rescue, but no one had. Everything changed with the arrival of those two men, and when that food had been pushed through the cat flap, they could have licked them both to death out of sheer love.

Chris went first, after Billy's hand gestured him the offer. Once he was in, the other followed, clambering through using a garden chair. Over the unit and onto the floor, they tried to be as quiet as possible, what with those huge chunks of sleeping fur in the hallway.

'You look that way, I'll look this ... Any keys, take them, whatever they look like ... What make was the motor again?' Chris enquired, his eyes bouncing from side to side in hope of seeing some.

'It's a Merc, and while we're here, should we check cupboards for supplies too?'

'Okay, a Merc, nice, and yeah, take anything worth having, they won't need it, will they?' Chris grinned, quickly checking the snoring dogs.

Woodsy's feet were twitching away, as he dreamt of chasing rabbits at the top of the hill, his soft snore wheezing his chest up and down. Carmen, well, she was a little more awake than her brother, having only managed to gulp down three of her five tablets. Woodsy, on the other hand, had downed the rest, taking him far into the world of dreamland.

As the men searched the kitchen, Carmen's eyes blinked opened. She knew they were there, she could hear them, but her tired limbs would not lift her body from the floor straight away. Her head, she could move, and it turned, slowly, to face towards the kitchen door. The taller one she recognised. He had been out front of the house only a short time ago. For some reason he had kept knocking but never entered, even though the front door was not locked.

'Ha-ha, found them, at least it looks like it could be them,' Billy chuckled, holding them up so they dangled from his hooked middle finger.

'Top marks, you ... Now, let's grab those bags and get the hell out of here before ...'

Chris stopped talking as his eyes moved to the hallway. In the time it had taken them to fill a few bags with items from the cupboards, and finished looking for the right keys, one of the dogs had moved.

Whilst one snored like an old man, the other had awoken, rolled onto its feet and had shifted position. It had been a little unstable to begin with, but was soon in control again. In sat, watching the two men in the kitchen, its dark eyes catching every breath they took. There was no growl or bark, it just sat there and stared at them in its silence, not moving.

'Okay, this could be really bad ... Nice doggy, yeah, you're lovely, aren't you?'

Chris was using his baby voice, as if talking to a small toddler, but the dog was more the size of a chunky teenager. He had to do something, before being mauled to death by the huge beast.

Carmen, sitting on the threshold, looked at the stranger before her, then round at her dosing brother, his snoring having turned into a half whistle down his nose. If she could have laughed she would have. There they were, with the excitement of two intruders in the house, and he was sleeping right through it, typical.

She stood, stretched, and then calmly walked into the kitchen to head for the large water bowl. It was empty. Carmen sat next to it, looking from face to face, then back to her waterless dish. She woofed once, and that was enough.

'Arh, it wants some water, bless it ... It's thirsty now, must have been those pills,' Billy smiled at the large dog sat about a foot away.

Dipping down, he picked up the empty container and turned the cold tap to replenish the supply. Placing it back on the floor, the dog did not need telling twice.

'Okay, you're not such a big baddy after all,' Billy chuckled, as she licked the back of his hand as a thank you. Looking at Chris he continued. 'I can't leave them, not now I know they might not be the vicious killers we thought they were ... I couldn't live with myself knowing they were locked up in here to die ... Sorry, Chris, I just can't ...'

'What about the one that's still crashed out, that might be all the vicious we can handle ... If that wakes up and ...'

Billy wasn't listening. He was already crouched down, making a fuss of the drinking dog. Turning the collar, he read the name out loud.

'... Carmen ... I like it, named after an Opera ... And a very pretty girl you are too ... Yeah, you are, you are,' he crooned to the furry chunk before him.

Chris stood and thought about it, not for long, but he did think for at least a few seconds. Dogs were not part of the plan, any plan, and having them along, well, it could be more hassle than it was worth.

'Look, I don't mean to piss on your parade, but dogs, with us ... I'm not so sure that's such a great idea ... They'll need feeding, walking, letting out for a dump, and constant attention ... They're a big responsibility, and they're big dogs, Billy, do you really want to be tied to them, really?'

The other man's changing face gave him the answer he was looking for. It was too late, Billy was already in love, and that love would not be put asunder.

'Billy, last chance ... We go or you stay ... What's it gonna be?'

Chris hated saying it, he really did, but he had to get going, he wanted to find his family, not be rescuing two mammoth dogs and wasting more time.

Billy didn't answer. He merely looked up, in a rather sad way, and then went back to fussing the mutt at his fingertips. It was time for Chris to leave.

Snatching the keys from the countertop, Chris turned for the locked door, his bags of supplies hanging from his hand.

'I'm so sorry, Billy, but I really have to go, I have to think of my family,' he softly said, as he unlocked the door and opened it.

Billy didn't look up but he did speak.

'I'm sorry too, but I can't leave them, it wouldn't be right and, well, they're all alone, a bit like me ... You go, be safe, find your family, I'll be okay, I will, honest ... Go on, get out of here ... Maybe I'll see you again sometime, you never know ... After all, it's a pretty small world now, isn't it?'

Leaving Billy with the wide-awake pooch, Chris headed out the door, up the path, and towards the last remaining car in the village. Beeping the four-wheel drive unlocked, he looked back for the last time, hating what had come to pass. He liked Billy, he really did, he was a good man, even when it came to animals, but there was something else, something far more important.

Chris would be leaving a friend behind and, as those bags hit that passenger seat, his mind turned right round on him, giving him a whole new look on life. With so much lost, could he afford to walk away from the only mate he had, just because of two stupid dogs?

'So, she wants him killed and chopped for Sunday dinner ... Okay, I'll do that tomorrow for the weekend, he can hang for a bit then, just to get the dribbles out,' Robby confirmed aloud, as Tyler faffed about with the hide off the last one. 'Tyler, put that down and go get me a new blade for the chop saw, there's a good lad ... This one's knackered already ... Must be those bloody badger bones, they're as hard as sodding nails, those things, especially if it's been dead for a bit ..'

Tyler walked to the small storeroom in the corner. Pulling the door open revealed a whole collection of things designed to turn one lump into several lumps. JD swallowed hard when his eyes followed the boy to the door and it opened with a squeal of revolt. If any of that stuff came anywhere near him, he would fight and fight to the death. Everything was clean, everything shiny and sharp, and JD hated the look of all of them.

The one in the cage, him, was next on the weekend menu. The badgers had been boiled, a dog had been baked in two halves, and other dead bodies hung from the hooks, waiting in a nice tidy line across the ceiling. He would have given up if not for Tyler. That boy had fed him some hope, but it seemed to have been forgotten by the one who said the words. Though the ham had been nice, there was none to follow, so JD took it as another lie, just like all the rest.

'Robby,' shouted his Mum from upstairs, 'it's starting to get dark up here ... Come and help me fix the lights, the bloody generator keeps playing up ... What's wrong with it?'

'Put it there, son, thank you ... I'll be back in a bit,' was said to the boy as his Dad made for the door.

Once out of sight, Tyler was straight over to the cage and talking to JD as though they were old friends, and not the caged and the captor.

'Bloody hell, I thought he'd never bugger off ... Talk about dither, that bloke is as slow as a sloth, only you could probably eat a sloth, so that makes it worth more than that old sod,' Tyler chuckled, looking through the bars at the little face looking back.

'So, when I hear them both snoring, I'll come down and grab you, and then we'll do one ... What should I call you? ... You ain't gonna say your name, are ya, so I'll have to give you a new one, seeing as you won't tell me yours? ... I know, you can be Buster, yeah, I like that ... I'm about to bust you out so it's kinda fitting, don't ya think?' the kid grinned at him, whilst picking his nose and rubbing it down his trousers.

The male voice came from behind him, and it was one that did not sound as though it was very happy.

'What you busting out of here and when, boy? ... And how far did you think you'd get before we came looking?' was said in the coldest tone Tyler had ever heard.

Back to the garden he turned, looking beyond the panel and down towards the backdoor he'd just left wide open as he walked off. Chris could see Billy, still sat with the dog, making a fuss of it as it licked his face. He was talking to it as though it were a small child, letting it know it was safe and that they would not be left alone again. Chris watched him for a few seconds, deciding on his next move.

'Oh, hello mate, you came back ... What you forgotten?' Billy asked as Chris reappeared at the door he had just left by.

'I haven't forgotten anything ... Just you and these two,' was mumbled as he started emptying the larder of tinned meat and bagged mixer. 'Put Carmen in the car with this lot, then we'll worry about the other one ... Is it still out cold?' he asked, looking into the hall. 'Bloody hell, sleeping like a baby ... Oops, he ate the lot, didn't he?' Chris grinned, turning to Carmen, who gruffed in reply as if to agree.

'You mean it? We can take the dogs? Arh, Chris, see, you ain't the tight arse I thought you were,' the other man smiled, as he stood to gather the found items together.

When Billy returned from the car, they turned their attention to the brute snoring and twitching where it lay. Billy, bending forward, checked the name on the collar, as Chris sized up the situation.

'Okay,' he said, looking around for what he needed, 'we could do with something to make a stretcher out of ... We can roll him onto it then and carry him out to the car ... That should work, shouldn't it?'

Billy nodded as he replied, saying, 'Yeah, that'd work ... And his name is Woodsy, it says on his tag ... Big bugger, ain't he? ... Bet he weighs a bloody ton ...'

Chris, returning to the man with a blanket from the front room, looked down at the sleeping mutt, with its gentle wheeze and twitching feet, and smiled.

'Woodsy, you fat sod, time to take a drive ... And, if you wake up in mid carry, you are going to have one hell of a headache, so I will drop you and run ... Got that?' Chris sniggered, hoping what he said would not actually happen.

The blanket was placed on the floor beside the dog. Rolling him over and straight onto it was the easy part. Getting him to the car was next, which involved lifting the heavy beast and transporting it out to the backyard.

'Tie knots in the corners, it'll give you a better grip,' Billy said, doing as he suggested, as Chris followed suit.

With that done, they test lifted, just to get a feel for what they were about to attempt.

'Are you really gonna drop and run if he wakes up?' Billy asked, getting ready to take the strain.

'That depends,' Chris replied.

'On what ...?'

'On whether he's in a good mood or not ...'

'If he's in a bad mood ...?'

'Dump and run ...'

'And if he's not ...?'

'Then we'll worry about it when it happens ... You ready?' Chris babbled, looking at the man on the other side of the chunk of fur.

'Yeah ... Ready,' Billy confirmed.

'Good ... And ... Lift ...'

Together they just raised the heavy dog off the ground, only by an inch or so, but it was enough to struggle him into the kitchen and out of the house. Staggering up the path, his head bounced off the bin with a loud thud. They stopped, looking into the hammock they held, checking for any signs of consciousness.

'We good ...?' Billy almost whispered, looking up at his friend.

'I think so ... Oh, my God, what is that awful smell?' Chris then spat, almost dropping his corners to cover his nose.

Seeing he was at the wrong end of the sleeping mutt he nearly retched.

'Lord Almighty, he just farted and I think I'm gonna die,' Chris chuckled, trying to hold his breath and not spew at the same time. 'And you want us to share a car with this thing?' he laughed with tears in his eyes. '... You're mad ...'

'He can't help it, he's sleeping ... You probably do the same thing, bet you do, and then you probably blame it on the wife or kids,' was a chuckled reply from the man stood at the safer of the two ends.

'... Or the dog,' Chris then smiled, looking up at Billy.

Billy stopped laughing and stared at Chris, his attitude slowly changing towards the man before him.

'You have a dog, and you were gonna walk away and leave these two? Chris, you ain't the man I thought you were. How could you think like that?' Billy chirped, not impressed with the way Chris had replied.

'Look ... I came back, didn't I? I'm here now, helping to rescue this lump of lard, I didn't go ... I came for you, for Carmen, and for this one ... I'm sorry, but my family are my priority, not two fat mutts locked in a house,' Chris explained, trying to smooth it over as best he could.

'Yeah, you came back, thanks,' Billy smirked, still not that happy.

'Oh, hurry up, will you, he weighs a bloody ton ... Let's get him loaded up and out of this bloody village ... It's getting dark and I've been here too long already,' was grumped out of Chris as he looked to the car and back to Billy.

'Urh, yeah, and we better do it quick,' Billy snapped back, his eyes dropping to what was in the blanket.

Chris's followed, and as they made that last dash for the waiting vehicle, Woodsy's eyes started to slowly open, his growl being long and deep, which was enough to get them both moving in the right direction.

JD cowered against the back of the cage as Robby paced towards Tyler, who was slowly backing away from his father. The look on the man's face was one JD had seen on several occasions, and it was usually when he was about to take an axe to a carcass.

'Boy, I ain't gonna tell you again, you've had enough warnings already ... MUM' he shouted, 'we've got another one for the freezer, make some room ...'

Tyler's face bleached with that thought. Blue eyes bounced around, seeking a way to escape. There was no way out, which was clear, and, as he inched further into the dark, his Grandmother appeared at the cellar door.

'What you shouting, Rob, I couldn't hear ya?' she moaned as she entered and stopped, looking from her son to her grandson.

'Well, seems Tyler reckons he's busting out of here tonight, and taking our Sunday dinner with him, Mum ... What d'ya make of that?' Robby replied, turning to the woman by the door.

Moving further into the room, she closed it and she walked over to join her son. Her eyes were small and beady as she checked the look on Tyler's face.

'This true, is it, boy?' she snapped at the youngster, standing off to one side, just beyond the dirty cages.

JD watched on, his fear almost liquidizing his bowels. The tone, the looks, it was not good, either for Tyler or himself. The man moved away from the woman, reaching for a long knife, the kind that was smeared red and very sharp, ready for action.

'It won't happen again, I promise ... We were only going for a walk, that's all, we were gonna come back, I swear,' Tyler bleated with tears in his eyes, as he stepped further into the shadows.

'Yeah, well, that's what you say every time, and look what happens ... It gets away and I spend hours, out there, finding something else ... No more, boy, this time, you take its place,' sneered his father, as he moved across the room and passed JD's caged position.

'Gran, please, I didn't mean to do anything wrong, I didn't,' Tyler pleaded, looking to his elder for some kind of support. 'I won't do it again, I promise, I won't, please ...'

JD looked away, not wanting to see how steel slides into young flesh to make it leak red stuff.

'Dad, don't do it, please ... Gran ... Make him stop, make him stop ...'

'Now, Tyler, what did we say last time? Do you remember?' his Gran snapped back from where she guarded the door.

'You said I didn't get another chance, that I shouldn't make promises I couldn't keep, and that I would be for the high jump if they escaped when we were playing together ... I'm sorry, I am,' Tyler cried, his face awash with dripping salt water.

'So, then, you can't stand there and say you didn't know ... We tell you often enough ... Why can't you listen, Tyler,' his Gran soothed, trying to make the kid hear her. 'Sadly, it's too late now. What you were going to do, it can't happen, not now, not ever ... We have to survive in this horrible world, by whatever means available, you know that too, but we have to be strong, and we have to listen to what we're told ... You can't, so, there's no point in trying to make you hear us anymore ... We can't take the chance of you letting us down, not again ...'

The old lady's words sounded as harsh and uncaring as they were meant to. Life around them had changed and they would have to change along with it. She knew and her son knew, but the boy, well, he was a lost cause, and no amount of help, or guidance, was going to make him see how it really was in the new world.

JD, silent and almost forgotten, had his cage rattled by the man's fist, mainly to shake the boy up, if nothing else.

'Mum, open the big cage ... He'll fit in there ... As soon as I chop his useless arse to the ground, once and for all ...'

'No, not a cage, dear,' she moaned across the space that separated them, 'get him straight up on a hook ... That'll be a lesson he won't forget in a hurry, aye?' she grinned.

'So, all loaded and ready to roll?' Chris asked Billy, as he shut the rear hatch of the car and moved to the driver's door.

'Yeah, dog food, check ... Water bowl, check ... Leads and blankets, check,' he smiled in reply. 'Supplies are piled up on the back seat, and we have plenty of food and water, so, yeah ... Ready to go.'

The two men climbed into the waiting vehicle with the dogs behind their wire wall. Woodsy was half dozing as Carmen sat, ready to roll too, her black and tan face almost smiling, as she panted in her enclosure, hoping for her romp in the woods.

'What way?' Billy asked, looking at Chris.

'Okay, onto the A40, where we head towards Oxford, then we turn right, just before the motorway junction, and home is at the bottom of the hill ... On foot, a day's walk, in this, home in half an hour,' Chris smiled in reply, the thought of it almost making his heart ache.

In the engine kicked with the turn of the key, and off they drove, heading towards the family he missed so much. Along the back lane, out onto the main road, turn right, and off they went, heading for the hill in the distance. With enough petrol in the tank, there was no need to stop again. Taking the turn by the motorway, they headed down through the wooded area, the lane quiet and getting darker by the minute.

Rolling into the village, as the sun started to set, it was as quiet there as the place they had left behind. No people, no noise, no one about, the area abandoned. Up into Clover Lane, left at the corner shop, down to the bend in the road, and then hang a right.

Chris's little house sat in a plot on its own, right at the end of the cul-de-suc, in the far corner. Pulling into the drive, he threw himself form the Merc in a desperate bid to reach his wife and her two kids. Leaving Billy to sort himself out, Chris opened the front door with the spare key stashed under a brick for emergencies.

'HELLO ... KIMMY ... KIDS ... ANYONE ...'

It was shouted around the house as he rushed from room to room and checked for them all, even the silly dog. Nothing, it was empty, no one was home, not even their four legged friend awaited his return.

Billy followed in, leaving the mutts in the car.

'No one home then?' he asked, dropping into the first couch he found with his feet lifting to rest on the coffee table.

'No, no one home ... But Kimmy's car is gone, and so is the dog ... They could all be together someplace, I just don't know where that might be ...'

'So, what now then ...?' Billy asked making himself comfortable.

'Bunk down here for the night, I guess, start afresh tomorrow ... So, pick a room, any room,' Chris grinned, walking to the kitchen.

'Just here's fine with me, thanks, mate ... What about the dogs? I'll have to let them out and walk them, they've been in that car long enough already ...'

'Yeah, you do that ... I've just found my old camping stove so I'll make us a brew ... Stick them in the back garden, it's fenced all round so they should be okay out there for a bit,' Chris called, whilst sorting a hot beverage for each of them.

'Okay, will do ... And I'll have a coffee instead, if I may, decaf if you have it ...'

'Yeah, we can do that ... And fancy something to eat? ... I can warm up some soup, if you want some,' Chris asked as he re-entered the lounge.

'Yeah, that would be great too, thanks ... Okay, back in a few ...'

Billy jumped up and headed for the motor and the two dogs. Woodsy was awake and wasn't as grumpy as the man first thought he might be. When the hatch was popped, they both leapt to freedom, fussing around him before running for the verge. They almost sighed with relief, upon hitting that wet grass, they business being done with smiles on their faces.

As he waited for the kettle to sound off, Chris ambled over to look out of the patio door, into the back garden and the cold night. His gut instinct told him his little family were all okay, but something hung on the very edge of his vision. It was a dark cloud, and it stayed there, just out of sight, and it reeked of doom.

Tyler tried to move away from his dad, but the man was fast for a big bloke, grabbing the boy's arm as he tried to make for the storeroom in the corner. The big knife flashed up, as JD quaked from what was to come for the lad, his eyes shut tight as he tried to block out the screams.

'No ... No, get off me ... NO ...'

It ripped through the air, a harsh note, tight and strangled, almost as much as the boy himself. When the sound stopped, JD slowly opened his eyes.

Beyond the cellar, and crawling through the shadows that had come to plague the night, a movement was seen, cloaked in the thick black that slid across the grass. When the first scream ripped a slice of pain through the gloom, it stopped and listened, its reason for being burning within. Facing the building yonder, it crept across the gravel, not making a sound, and it headed for the door in the ground, the one that did not need to be opened.

The lights dimmed before they started their random flicker. Robby stopped, holding the crying boy in one hand and his knife in the other.

'Oh, for Christ's sake, what's wrong with that bloody generator now ... If I've sorted it once, I've done it a hundred sodding times ... Ere, Mum, take him, I'll go and have a look ... Bloody thing ...'

The older woman grabbed the lad, his arm tight in her aging fingers, as her son walked towards the door.

'Ere, did you lock this when you came down?' he asked, not able to open it.

'No, why?' his mother replied, wielding the knife as she turned to look at her offspring.

JD was not watching what was going on with them, not anymore, he was watching something else. It had caught his eye, the movement in the shadows at the far end of the room. It dripped and slid down the wall, a whole line of it, creeping into the space where no one saw, no one except JD.

He could have warned them, but he decided not to. As the man fiddled with the locked door, and the old woman held tight to the whimpering boy, JD watched the night slither closer and closer to those that made all the noise. So he stayed quiet, and waited.

'Bloody hell, just break it open, it can't be that hard,' she snapped in her son's direction. 'Put your shoulder against it and give it some welly, ya soft sod ...'

Not seeing, or knowing what lurked behind her, she was unaware as it slid onto her rubber boot. Up it trickled, inch by slow inch, so as to take that which it was there to take.

'Urh ... What's that?' the old woman whinged, as she saw the oil climbing her left leg, up to the knee and beyond.

'What's what?' her son bounced back, still trying to budge the door open, but not looking to see what she was talking about.

Dropping the knife, her hand moved to brush it off, but it was too late, it was already on her fingers. It started its climb, around her wrist, towards her elbow, sticky and black, and what was that vile smell?

'Robby, Robby ... I can't get it off ... Get it off me, get it off me, now,' she pleaded, looking to her boy for help.

Tyler was released from her grip, as she attempted to brush it away, as though she could. She found she was unable to, yet the more she tried, the further it travelled up her limbs, part by part.

'Mum ... What are you on about ...?'

Robby turned to see his mother slowly being encased in a thick oily substance that was all consuming. Her eyes were all he could see, her crying eyes, in all that black sludge.

She went to scream, but it bubbled into her mouth, into her eyes, up her nose. It choked her, forcing itself down her throat, it bled into her pours, trickled into crevices and crammed into her ears, slowly rendering her deaf as she drowned.

Robby stood back, horrified at what was happening before him. He couldn't help. No way was he touching her, not for all the tinned meat in China, dog or not, and not with that evil crap eating her alive before him. Turning for the door, he almost ran at it to escape.

JD heard that noise. It was a horrible sucking noise, as if someone was trying to get trapped meat from between their teeth. His eyes focused on what was once an old woman but now resembled a pile of quickly melting black snow. Her gargling was a nasty sound, full of liquid, the type you were unable to swallow.

He watched from his cage, as it lifted the mass from the ground and, using the hook above, ripped a wide channel straight through her whole body, the red innards bright against the black slime. Leaving it to hang in two halves from the space above, it then turned its attention to the crying man.

'... NO ... Get away from me ... NO ...'

He might have freed himself, but it was too late. As he forced his way through the broken lower panel, which he had kicked out from the bottom of the door in an effort to escape, it was upon him with his ankles first in the line of fire.

Backwards he was dragged, back into the room with the blood, innards and cages, back to where Tyler hid under the bench, so as not to be next. Screaming and pleading for his life was not going to be enough. There was no release for Robby, he was being taken and there was no hope to be offered.

'Tyler, help me, boy ... HELP ME ...'

As the scene unravelled before the lad's eyes, there was no way he was going anywhere near whatever had just torn his Gran in half, and no way was he helping the old man, not with that thing around the lower part of his body, dragging him towards the dark end of the room.

Without another word said, the lights dimmed right down, and the gloom became enough for the entity to take full control. Winding itself around the man, it coiled and crept, holding his arms tight to his sides, as it melted a line up his face.

Tyler moved away, towards the caged JD. Huddling up next to it, his hand lifted to flick the latch open. If the kid knew one thing, he knew it was time for them both to get out of there. The next thing he witnessed, before closing his eyes to the sound, was his father's body being lifted, horizontally, up onto the work bench by the chop saw.

A scream built as the machine burst into life, the blade hanging just above his frightened eyes. When his mouth opened up for the last time, the saw dropped and carved a groove straight across the centre of his face, right down to the backs of his eye sockets. The blade squealed as it bounced off the inside of his skull, grinding to a halt, with the gore sprayed across the room and up the far wall in a tidy swathe.

Tyler peed himself where he stood, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what he had just witnessed. What family he had remaining had just been ripped to shreds before him by some unnatural force.

The shadow moved away, retreating to its point of entry, back to the door in the floor. As though it were a rising tide, the swell of black slime powered up and crashed through the wood above, bursting out into the dark and back into its gloom, taking the dead bodies with it.

Two sets of stunned eyes scanned the room of red and then looked at each other. Tyler, as white as a sheet, had no words to say. Suddenly he was alone, and as quiet as JD, his freedom having come at such a costly price. Lifting his hand, the door to JD's cage was slowly pulled open, his eyes not believing what he'd seen.

'Okay, that's not what I had planned, but it works for me,' Tyler whispered, giving JD enough room to jump down from the stinking cage.

With his legs burning from being cramped in there for too long, JD stretched and walked the small space, just so the blood could reach below his knees. Turning to the big hole in the roof, Tyler said exactly what he was thinking.

'Right, time we get out of this shithole, don't ya think, Buster?' he chuckled.

JD moved towards the patch of night sky sat above, and looked up at those lovely twinkling stars and bright moon, whilst breathing in that beautifully sweet, cold night air.

'So ... Where to next?' the kid asked himself, as JD scrambled up the debris, back into the real world. 'Hey, wait for me ... I'm coming too,' was called from below, but JD wasn't listening or waiting, he was running, as fast as he could, away from that boy and away from that building, with its mess in the cellar, never to return again.

### PART 3 – Day 3

### The Root of All Evil

The skies above Oxford reflected the amber and red of a city burning down to its ancient roots. As the continued line of fire engulfed the inner streets and buildings, people slid from life into death. There was no escaping the flames, no running, no hiding, they could try, but it wouldn't save them, not in the end. The good Lord, he was their only redeemer, and his name was called, no, shouted and screamed, so as to take them home, back into his safe keeping.

A few were free of the torment, but not many. Those that were missed probably wished they'd been vanished away too, but life, or death, doesn't always work out that way. Across the land, maybe the world, the outcome was the same, no town or city untouched, the countryside being the last to fall. Desolation was a strange encounter for all of mankind. Without a connection there was no future.

Blue eyes surveyed the horizon, blinking slowly as they focused on afar. The sun was just breaking his fast, his crown slowly breeching the hills to the east. The naked figure moved, unseen, unheard, down the slope towards the empty building below. They knew it was empty, they had been watching it all night to see if someone, anyone, was about, but, no, it was definitely empty.

Passing up the drive, they checked their footing, making sure the silence was upheld. No one likes nasty surprises, even more so in the current climate. A quick check around the hedge told of any foreign body lurking there, all clear, so move forward. Inching towards the back door of the property, a glance through the window confirmed there was still no seen threat. Turning the handle then confirmed it was locked.

Kitchen windows too, yes, shower room window, no, left agar for air circulation, perfect. With the use of a garden seat, they climbed up and in, and crouched low for the next part, time to check all the rooms. One sweep and done, quiet as a grave. There was water to drink, food to be shovelled in and bagged. Clothing was needed, as was something for the feet. Then there was sleep to be had and dreams to be dreamt, and remembered.

No, no sleep, not yet, in sleep there were faces, which was not always a good thing. The wanton destruction seen and felt, it was screamed at and cried for, as she saw her new world dawn. Gone they were, just like that, every single one, except her, stood naked. Why? How does something like that happen, and why did it not touch that one amongst five hundred? It took all those other souls, why spare that one?

Enough, there was no reason, that was life and death. Was it a good thing, or bad thing, to be alive, there, and still breathing? Were they really dead, or was it the other way round? Maybe death was being in a house with the silence and the not understanding. It could be hell, what had been seen was like the fires of hell. Flames ripped across the land, taking everyone with it. Was that them being saved from purgatory on earth?

What about the shadows? They were reaping already, as they always did. First one, then the other, and always working as partners, they had affectively cleared and cleaned. Mopping up humanity, district at a time, taking those they wanted, they left the rest to wander aimlessly in the hope of finding others. The dragger away of bodies, they tore and ripped, the end a messy business. To be spared the flame but then hunted in time. Which was worse?

More than once had those memories been lined up and counted in the last two days. To sleep and not dream, was it possible? If there was no one else, and no one left, what then? Would sleeping through it help? Maybe sleeping long enough would wake her from her nightmare, the one that had became a day mare, lived second by second. Fears were all that were left, there was little else to stray her from them. Total silence played tricks in her mind, made her hear things that weren't there, drove her crazy almost, so she screamed, just to feel something. Sadly, no one was there to hear it.

So, sleep wasn't a blessing. She popped some small tablets, three in total, to fade, to forget, which were then washed down, before she rested back on the couch with the curtains closed. Blue eyes closed against the world, tired of looking at nothing and seeing it as nothing. Later it would change, when the one required was found, wherever they were. They had to be somewhere not far, somewhere with safety and supplies. It was out there, she could feel it, and that was where the girl was. She had seen already, through her dark-side, and if she could see her, then she would find her.

'You're right, good idea, Billy ... Starting from here, working my way outwards does make more sense ... If they are still in the village, I'll find them ...'

Chris moved around the kitchen, after finishing his breakfast and placing his cereal bowl in the sink along with his mug. He packed a few essentials into his coat pockets, in case for emergencies, and was making ready to leave. A map was spread out on the table in the eating area, where Billy and he had poured over it since retrieving it from a drawer.

'Hey, you sure you don't want me to join you? I can help check the village, you only have to ask, plus the dogs might be a shield against anything nasty lurking around. Under the circumstances, you could be facing anything, mate ... And, yes, my diary is clear for the next few days, if you must know,' Billy grinned, folding the map into quarters.

They had spent about an hour plotting the four compass points around the area, in half mile radiuses, working away from the house. Billy had already mentioned some of the possibilities, commenting there might be bodies in houses along the way, and not live ones. Chris understood, so accepted his help, along with the dogs too.

'Okay, you take Woodsy and go left out of the lane, if you follow it around the bend you come to the main road, turn left again and look for the bus stop ... I'll do the same, the other way with Carmen, and we should meet up outside the old post office ...'

The dogs had spent their night sleeping on the king-size bed in the guest room. They wandered when they liked, had slept with Billy for a while, but had then ambled back upstairs, where they stayed till breakfast. After having theirs, they were ready to go, and eager to be gone they were.

'Arh, look at that ... What they like?' Billy chuckled, as he pulled on his coat in the hallway, and looked at the pair of them sat by the door, ready, and each with a leash hanging from their mouths.

'Talk about, when you're ready,' Chris laughed, walking to join them, his thanks said as Carmen's dropped to the floor with a gruff.

'Yes, yes, we're going, get out of the way then, silly dog, so I can open the door ... That's it, move your bum,' was laughed, as the door was forced open to let two happy hounds spring off to be free in the sun.

Straggling along behind, Billy and Chris ran over the plan, the calling of the names and the quick checking of the empty properties, then the trying doors but not breaking of them. If anything looked suspicious, move along, or return to check it again later when not alone. Should anyone appear, arrive at the designated area with them, or with directions back to them. Billy knew who he was looking for. Chris had already handed him a photo to go by, and so would recognise them, should they came forward to their names.

They parted at the T-junction, one left, one right, with a called dog to go. Taking that walk, on a quiet day like that, it was weird after having company. Chris spoke aloud to Carmen, as she skipped across open front lawns and sniffed at the air. That strange tang was still tasted, but it wasn't as strong as it was, the nasty smell dying away too. Silence, pace by pace, it was dead, as dead as the town, but with its buildings still standing, it felt worse. Though he called, no reply came, no twitching curtain, and no howl of despair.

It was silent, silent enough to hear Billy doing exactly the same on his end of the road. As Chris's voice slowly died away, his rumbled out across all that empty space.

Nothing was there, and no one. As empty as every other street they had walked or indeed driven. It was just another vacant lot, as deserted as the next lane, and the next, and the next.

Woodsy ran as Billy called. He had nosed around parked cars, peed up a few wheels, and he even had a nice, relaxing, dump on the lawn of the big house over yonder. So far, his day in the sun was nothing but good, and that upright, just there, he was okay, he was marching about and shouting whatever it was, but it was fine, if a little chilly in the shade. Every time he heard the other upright shout, over the other side of the street, he would shout in return, and then Carmen would reply. After a while it became a little game, running and shouting, shouting and running, and, yes, Woodsy liked that game, he liked that game very much.

Carmen was having the same fun as Woodsy, but with the other upright. Her upright, which was over there shouting again, was not quite like the other one, there was something different about him. The one back there, with Woodsy, there was a feeling with him, an odd feeling, which it was strange and unusual. Him, there, he seemed lost. Carmen could see a different light in him, one that was not always happy, in fact, sometimes it was very sad. Carmen wondered why that was.

Running to the next corner, she sat and waited for Chris to catch her up. Looking down the main road towards the bus stop, that voice was heard once more, as Woodsy came running into view, not waiting for Billy. With his tongue lolling from the side of his mouth, he charged down the road, towards his sister and Chris.

'No luck then?' Billy called, coming to a stop on the pavement, his hands in his pockets and his collar pulled up against the biting wind.

Chris met him where he stood, his face saying everything.

'Bit like that, is it?' Billy then sympathised, his features softening for seeing the expression on the other man's face.

Chris looked at the shop beside them, his eyes lifting to the first floor windows, and then dropping to the main entrance. He shifted slightly as he turned away, not knowing what the answer was going to be.

'Look, mate, all we've covered is a few lanes with bugger all houses on them, we haven't been everywhere yet ... What about those two off that side road? Where do they lead? And I see there's a pub back that way, where you turn off up that dead end, we haven't even thought of that place yet, have we?'

Chris turned to Billy. He was right. They had walked a thousand yards and shouted. Within all the hopes of that one thought, they could be there, somewhere, just waiting for him.

'There's the village hall, we haven't tried that, I hadn't thought of that one ... And there's the cricket club house, and the ...'

Chris's list rambled out of him, a tide of places nearly forgotten. Billy listened, as they stood with the map unfolded, a finger pointing out their directions, as a pen circled them on the paper.

Carmen had sat and watched her brother roam the quiet road, up and back, and all the way to the other side. The sun slowly closed her eyes, in a dreamy way, as she took in the view of the meadow across from where she waited, sat panting. Watching Woodsy, she heard them talking, and she felt the cold on her paws and legs, but there was something else she felt, and her hackles raised as her head slowly turned to glance back the way they had just come.

No one was watching, only her. Lazy eyes opened and saw. They lifted to the uprights, still talking, as she looked away again. Carmen knew, but did anyone else? With that thought in mind, she stood to attention, her lowly growl a warning to all.

The more she dreamt and drifted, the further she was able to see. From high above, to down low, the journey was a skip of energy hardly touching the sunbeams that danced on the breeze. Hanging in the light, no landmark was noted, for the journey was but a blur. No sound, just visual, like an imprint on an old postcard somewhere.

The picture was a close-up of one face and one face only. It was of the only face that mattered, and it had to be found, and it had to be found soon. If the image could have been etched into plaster, or scribbled across a sheet, then that would never have been enough. The face had to be there, right in front, in the flesh, otherwise what was the point of being?

No one noticed the full moon hanging high. There was no question as to why it never moved, or why it had remained full for three nights running. Why should anyone even comment if they never looked up to see?

Strange things happen for the strangest of reasons. Until they happen, they are still destined to happen, regardless of what fate awaits the masses. At the point of impact, life would either cease or start, which also relied upon destiny. That was how it worked. Some were destined to die, whereas some were destined to start living, and so they had, as was destined.

There, the features sat, behind her closed lids, staring back, the look never changing. Only the surroundings were different, or maybe it was the light, or the shade that rested across the young face. It didn't matter. It was the image, that was all and everything, and it could not be lost, not until found. With it burnt into a new-born's mind, there was a connection made that would last until that final breath. When all could be left to a desert, it was time to fight fire with fire.

Lifting from the bed, clothes awaited attention in the vast closet along one wall. The warrior that owned it was of average build, was slim but not petite, and had a broad collection of ordinary outfits.

Looking down the other end, the target was located. It held the green random pattern. Leg coverings were ripped into hand and pulled into place, t-shirts and long sleeve tops too, layer after layer. Finally a coat was added to her list, which was thick and waterproof, and a saviour in the cold weather to come.

The trusty pills were packed, along with other items worth having. Survival came first, self-protection against a brand new world. Food and water were horded away, along with other bits, cotton, string, paper and matches, plus a small collection of spare clothes, which sort of fitted but were warm nonetheless.

Footwear came from a hall cupboard. As the door slid to one side they cascaded out onto the floor, the variety too much for a newbie to cope with. Lace up, black leather, one size too big. Pulling another pair of socks into place solved the problem, almost a perfect fit.

Those photos back there, in the big room. They were of a smart person, who stood in a line of other smart people. They wore the same green coloured garb, which had the same random pattern, and they all held guns. They didn't smile, they stood, erect, shoulders back, eyes front.

In all the cupboards, through the whole house, there were no signs of shooters. They were checked, all areas of possibility, even the outbuildings, the attic, and the garage, but it was clear, none were found.

It was time to move on. What was needed was to be taken, everything else could stay. There was a huge possibly the young girl was not that far, so the journey was heading in the right direction, so there was no denying that. Her face, it was getting clearer, and her light was glowing brighter. Having that as the compass, the path was already there, waiting. All that was next was to pick the right road, but that was an easy thing to say, if you already knew the lay on the land.

JD promised himself not to go near eaters again. Being around people was bad for his health, and he was not about to end up on a table, served with mushy peas on the side. The noise and pain they had created, that was enough for him.

Hanging back a bit, he followed the two strangers ahead, just to see what horrors they were living off, back through the woodland, along the muddy track and out into an open field. They didn't know he was there, they were too busy talking, and although they giggled and laughed, they could not be trusted. Life over being eaten, every time, and that was his most important rule.

He smelt them over the wet grass and the damp trees. Their smell was okay, not wrong, not like that last lot. He listened and trailed, checking their place ahead, keeping out of eye-line. Always back, to not be seen and not be heard, hiding and waiting, the journey continuing.

'What was that?' Connor asked his sister, as the flash disappeared across the corner of the field.

'I don't know, but it was moving fast ... A fox probably,' she replied, her eyes casting over the space behind them, her arms full of firewood.

'Nah ... It couldn't be, not in a million years,' he almost whispered, dropping his pile to the grass by his feet and turning away from his sister.

'It could be,' she snapped back, looking over at her brother beside her.

She stopped.

'Conn,' Tally quietly asked, as her eyes searched through the gloom, down towards the lower gates, 'is that someone hiding down there?'

'Nah, it's that old half tree stump, remember, it looks like a bloke crouched down, but it isn't ... Funny you should say that though, I had a strange feeling we were being watched ... It's probably nothing, just me being silly, sis,' he smiled, bending to catch up his sticks.

That's when he caught sight of the movement in the shadow. It was over the other side to where they were looking. A shape, right at the edge of the field, small and watching them from afar, its head lowered as it hid.

'There it is ... It's down there, watching us ... Look,' he pointed, off towards the bend in the field.

'What is it? Can you tell?' Tally asked, her eyes not making sense of the shape in her sight.

'I don't know, it's bunkered down ... Is it a person, kneeling?' he whispered back, his eyes just about seen for his squinting.

'I'm not sure, it might be ... Could be a kid, it's so small ... Do we check it out or get Dad?' Tally quietly suggested, as a fine drizzle started to fall.

'I'll go check it out, you stay here ... If I need you, I'll shout, don't you worry about that,' he grinned, taking his long knife from his belt and heading away, off down towards the far corner.

From his pressed down position, JD saw one of them moving towards his nook in the hedgerow. Without thinking, he bolted from the space, moving at a blur, his feet flying across the grass as fast as he could. Up and around the tight bend, into the paddock beyond, he headed, with the wind a whistle passed his numb ears. He had to be gone, before they caught him and ate him, cooked slowly on a turning spit with roasted potatoes and a thick gravy.

In the dusky light, Connor ran in the direction of the speedy blur, his lower limbs burning from the controlled downward slide and stumble. Digging his heals in as he went, he took the corner by swinging on a branch that hung down at face height. Onto the next leg, slipping and sliding with no traction to be had under his muddy trainers, onto his knees, clawing his way up the incline.

Unsure as to why he shouted it into the rainy day, that one name came to mind as the shadow made for the top of the field. A memory slid in, one that saw a kid playing for hours in the garden with his best pal by his side, all eager for their next adventure.

'... JD ...'

Stopping, JD slowly turned, amazed at his name being shouted at all, let alone across that open field. Having not heard it for so long, he wondered if he had dreamt it. There it was again, and it was getting louder.

'... JD ... Come back ... Please, JD ... PLEASE,' Connor called, his voice almost breaking from the nearest of misses.

At first JD was unable to see anyone. So he took one pace, and then two more, to look and see, straining almost.

'... JD ...?'

In the moment his name was said again, its caller came into view, as real as he could ever be, as large, and as lovely, as the last day JD had seen him.

Suddenly his legs were moving, faster and faster, faster than they had ever moved before, bolting back, his need to be there a pain building in his chest.

Onto his knees, again, Connor fell, into the mud, but he didn't care, not really. It was worth it, landing in all that dirt and grime.

'There you are, there you are ... Yeah, you silly dog, I got you now, yes, I have ... Where's Mum, boy, where's Mum?' was poured all over the found mutt, with oodles of love and plenty of hugs, as he spun and barked, and brought Tally running to see what was happening.

JD frolicked and bounced, he yapped and circled, he licked and barked some more. Back in the arms of his trusted upright, all his nightmares were at an end, there was no more lost or lonely for him, he was finally home.

When Carmen stood to attention, Woodsy stood to attention. The only trouble was, when they got a whiff of something, they were off. Barrelling towards the lane further up, the two dogs were a blur, with Chris and Billy in hot pursuit. Loud chesty barks accompanied them, along with their size and speed, and they wasted no time in chasing something that ran way too fast. Cat or coward, it didn't matter, whatever, when caught, they would be drowned in drool as they were loved to death.

Okay, they were big dogs, but they shifted when they really wanted to. Left and along, they hurtled, right at the bend, and then down and round the sharp left. That was when Carmen saw what they were after, and, boy, did it move at a pace.

'What we running after? Do we know yet?' Chris queried, trying to pelt along and talk at the same time.

It was no good, he was never a sprinter. He was a male nurse who hated gym and all that trying to live a healthy lifestyle crap. Chris liked pies and he loved pints. As he came to a stop he said it aloud and cared little for who heard.

'Bloody hell, what I wouldn't do for a lovely smoke and cold beer ... This is crap, why we doing this?'

Billy ran to the next junction and stopped, watching the dogs bound off towards the building in the distance.

'Because we're looking for your sodding family?' he called back to the man behind him. 'Well, hurry up then, it might be a lead ... Whatever the dogs are after, it's fast ... It might be wildlife, but then again ... It could mean people ...'

He waited for Chris to join him before continuing. Sympathy oozed from every pore. Billy felt for Chris, he really did.

'Come on, mate, don't be like that,' he smiled, as he walked in the direction the mutts had zoomed off in, down the dead-end lane. 'Look, it's not all bad ... The pub might be open ...'

'It ain't been open for years ... They sold up and moved to Sa Coma, run a place over there now, the weathers better, of course ...'

'Of course, the weather ... Nice,' Billy mumbled, as they approached the boarded-up property. 'Shame though, it would have been nice to sit in the garden, with a pint, while the dogs entertained themselves ... Urh, squit the bed, or have you already, what is that sodding awful smell?'

As Billy said it, Chris got a right nostrils worth, and nasty it was too, the nearer the building they drew.

Billy couldn't help but gag when he said, 'Lordy, I think something died around here ... No, I'll rephrase that ... Lordy, I think a lot of things died around here ... And where's Woodsy gone now?'

Hands lifted to cover noses and mouths, the next few steps taken on carefully positioned feet.

Carmen was sat away from the abandoned pub, off to one side, over by the gate. There was an extension that gutted out, and acted as the wall to the back parking area. Her head turned from looking at them to looking to her left, along, and down the side of the structure. There was no jumping or barking, she was just watching everything around her, which was always a wise move.

'... WOO-DSY ... HERE BOY ... Where you gone now ...?'

After shouting, Billy and Chris waited. Within seconds they heard what they wanted to hear.

'Bloody hell, he's got stuck in there somehow ... Don't look like anybody's here though, does it? Not anyone wanting to be found, anyway ...'

Billy almost said it under his breath, but it was just enough for Chris to hear. He watched as the other man made in the direction of the one they still had. As Billy approached Carmen, she darted out of view.

The two men ran after her, taking the turn, heading towards the side door. As though she ran straight through the wood itself, a panel flapped in then dropped, her form lost to the space beyond.

Billy looked down, and then back up at Chris, as his hands rubbed together quickly. He smiled because he had to, it was all too crazy.

'If she fits, we'll fit ... Sorry, mate, trapped dog and all that ...'

So, down Billy dropped, onto all fours, to barge his way through, head first, in just the same way as Carmen had and, apparently, Woodsy too.

Chris followed in behind, the smell even worse on the inside.

'Jesus, it's smells like something crawled in here and died, right after it took the biggest crap in the world ... Is that natural, a smell like that, is it?' Billy questioned, not impressed with it so far.

It was enough to make eyes water and lungs reject the intake, it was so foul. A scarf wrapped around the face helped a little, as least it filtered some of it away. Though the space was very clean, spotless even, that smell of decay could not be avoided. It hung and clung as it inched in and strayed, and then it snagged and stuck, right there, right in the back of the throat. It was oily to the lips, the touch, the skin, and it left a mark, as if it tainted a bruise through the stalest of air.

The dog, he was through that door, the one that end, the one Carmen stayed well away from. Looking behind the bar, upon entering the Saloon, the door to their left had the stairs leading up and another room to the right. Woodsy was somewhere else, not far, but not there.

'... WOODSY ... Bloody hell, where is he?'

Billy shouted his name with Chris on his heels. When the bark came again, they knew where he was.

They headed for the door next to the curtained window. It was the one that dropped down to a bend in the dark. He was down there, that silly bloody dog, and he wanted rescuing, again. Woodsy had gotten himself trapped down in the cellar, and, well, if it was going to happen to anyone, it might as well happen to him.

Cackles of laughter resonated around the silent space, the tide of giggles as happy as ever, basking in the safety they had grown to love. Tears only came with hurt, not fear, and nothing would be faced alone ever again. Small children could run and play, dress in the clothes from the forgotten wardrobes, to run amok in big hats and oversized shoes. Life was good.

Chatter rolled as their day ahead was planned. Wood was needed, all hands on deck, after the kitchen was tidy of course. The men of the house, Doug, Yoyo and Ben, did the hard graft regarding chopping and splitting, while Marty and Simon tagged along with JD, happy to be part of the crew. Karen spent her time in the kitchen with the smaller kids, faffing and cooking, painting and playing.

That left Tally and Connor. For so long they were in demand, suddenly they could tinker and take some time. There was no danger now they had their dad, a weight had been lifted, and they both enjoyed that feeling. Moving at their own pace, doing what they wanted to do, was something they would just have to get used to, as strange as that felt at the time.

Upstairs there were six large bedrooms, four being spread over the main body of the house, leaving two over the wing at the side. The three boys, Simon, Zach and James, were put in the one facing the back, whilst Karen and Betsy took the front one, because the little girl still was not ready to sleep alone, as brave as she was.

Doug had his own, all to himself, above the posh sitting room, which also faced the front, and Yoyo and Ben took the room to the back of the house, over the kitchen, which faced the outbuildings and meadow beyond. Tally managed to get the room next to her dad. It faced the meadow to the front, out across the vale, with a nice view on a clear day.

This left Connor and Marty to share the remaining room, at the back of the house, next to Ben and Yoyo. Although each room had its own facilities, it still seemed too small, to Connor anyway. Sharing with Marty was okay, but sometimes you needed your own space, right when they wanted some too. For Connor, this was uncool, and he wanted out, so he had an idea.

Earlier in the day, he had ambled down to the cellar and checked out the room at the end, in the darkest part. It was quite big but too cold, manky and damp, and not much of a spot to relax or kick back in. From there he wandered the house, upstairs and into the attic. It was vast up there, space-a-mundo, with little rubbish to move and skylights above. Not so cold up there either, he could spread out nicely in the plentiful space.

'What ya doing?' came the voice from behind. 'Are you thinking of moving up here?'

The young lad turned slowly to face the owner of the voice he knew so well. His sister stood at the top of the stairs, her eyes watching him pause and ponder.

'Yeah, I am,' he smiled, 'as much as I like Marty, I need my own room ... What d'ya think? There's paint in the old shed, brushes too ... I could paint it out nice, and hang my stuff up over there, in that wardrobe ... My bed could go over there ... And those ugly orange curtains in the box we found downstairs, they can partition off different pats, so it's more like a bedsit than a bombsite.'

Painted and decorated, it would look rather smart. The daylight flooded in, and the hot bricks from all the chimneys helped fend off the cold. It would need a good wash and clean, but everything they needed was there, and he had nothing else to do with his time.

'Yeah, I like it, Conn ... You could make it nice up here ... You sure you don't want to swap with me? You might get lonely, in the dark, so have the one next to Dad instead. How will you cope with the size of it, there's so much space, too much maybe ... Really, what if you get lost up here, bro?' she questioned with her usual sarcastic giggle.

'Ha, ha, not working, still mine, so I'm keeping it,' he grinned back, walking towards her to drop down the stairs beyond. 'But you can help me clean it, if you want ... Even though you are as sarcastic as Mum is when she really gets going, nearly, but not quite ...'

He said it without thinking, a quick comment, one that never really registered, until his sister spoke from above him on the top step, watching him descend.

'She's gone, Conn ... Mum's gone ...'

'I know that,' he snapped, turning to face her from the bottom step, his eyes as bright as shiny pennies. 'I know what you're saying, and I hear you, but I have to believe, in that, in something, anything, because that's all I have, Tally, so, please, don't take that away from me too ... I've already lost her.'

'Conn, I'm so sorry ... CONNOR ...'

He left as she moved after him, so he ran along the landing, down to the garden, along the path, and all the way to the old shed. He panted to a stop, his memories of his mother as alive as her voice in his head. A place of rest offers the family a point of continued contact. Connor was without that, he was without a grave to visit. All he had was what was in there, in his memory banks. That was it, nothing else, just them.

'Connor ... Please ... I didn't mean to hurt you ... I'm sorry,' came the familiar voice from behind him.

He turned, the low sunlight hitting him straight across the eyes. Blinking, several times, he might have been mistaken, but just for that split second, he was positive it was his mum standing there, looking over at him.

A radiant light almost droned from the one he could hardly see, her blurred silhouette casting a shadow against the sunlight behind her. Trying to focus, by lifting a hand to shield the glare, he watched as Tally ran forwards, totally filling the space where another had just stood.

Was Tally moving ahead of herself, in a different timeline? It was all very odd, even more so when those words were repeated.

'Connor ... Please ... I didn't mean to hurt you ... I'm sorry ...'

He looked at his older sister in a strange way, as she came to stand next to him, taking his hand in her's.

'What's wrong? You've gone well pale, you okay?' she crooned, looking at his face.

'Yeah,' Connor replied, slipping out of his daze once she touched him. 'I was a bit sad, but I'm okay now, just got upset about Mum, you know, had to get it out of my system ...'

'Hey, come on, cheer up, you still got me and Dad, and we found JD, so it's not over yet, is it? I'll help you decorate. Even I can chuck some paint around ... I saw some rollers and trays in the garage by the stables, we can grab those too ... But, please, no little kids ... If they get up there with paint, well, you might as well tip a tin over your head and be done with it ... So we better lock the door, from the inside, or we'll never get rid of the little buggers,' she babbled, as she opened the shed door and rooked around for some paint, saving the rollers for the walk back to the house.

From the lower door came an odour enough to make them gag for air, whilst they held their stomach down with a hand at their mouth. Side by side, they went, with Carmen close behind, but not near enough to get underfoot.

'Woodsy, fear not ... We're here to save you ... Yet again,' Billy barked at the glossed plank before him, his cheek almost touching the paint.

A low growl and half gruff, the two as one, suggested Woodsy awaited them.

'Okay ... We're coming in ...'

So in they barged, hands over mouths, clamping nostrils shut, to find the dog, sat, facing a wall and bench. He glanced over, as the door swung back against its hinges, before it slowly closed against Chris's arm.

'... Oh, my, dizzy, Aunt ...'

Those four words are easily said, and they slipped from Billy's mouth as he stood in awe. What a bloody mess, literally, on ceiling, walls and floor, and in all that, was Woodsy, still patiently waiting.

Chris walked over and quickly ducked down. Standing up again, he patted the dog's head before he re-joined Billy, who was stood by the door, ashen.

'Christ almighty, what the feck has been going on in here?' Billy blurted out, with his face a map of amazement.

'I don't know,' replied Chris, taking it all in, 'but if you're wondering ... Ask him, down there ...'

'Please, don't kill me, mister, I weren't gonna eat your dog, promise. He chased me down here, real fast like, so I couldn't get away from him ... Then he just sat there, watching me, he only barked when you shouted ... But I didn't hurt him, really I didn't ... I love dogs,' the youngster babbled, trying to hide his fear from the two strange men stood in the room only four feet away.

As they looked nearer, to take in the features of the young lad, Carmen appeared. She bounded over and greeted them all, the new kid included, as if old friends or family even.

'Nice dogs, big, ain't they?' the kid smiled, looking from one to the other. 'I had a dog once, he was nice too, but he's gone now...'

He stopped talking, his words a waste of time maybe.

The two men clocked the hooks, and they tried to ignore the dried and brittle pelts. They saw the knives and blades, and they knew what those cages once held. As grizzly as it was, it was out there, somewhere, showing them people had been surviving, by any means available, since man first walked the earth. It was a take or die existence for some, where meat came in many different forms, just the same as man himself. To judge was to be judged, and who were they to say what was wrong anymore?

'Come on, kid, you're alright now, you're safe, and we're getting you out of here ... You can come with us, we won't bite, promise, and we have plenty of supplies too,' the younger man smiled, as he moved nearer to take his hand. 'And sorry about the dog and if he scared you, what's your name? I'm Chris, and that man over there, that's Billy ... We're looking for my family, thought they might still be in the village, but we couldn't find anyone ... So far, all we found is you, or Woodsy did, after Carmen chased you ...'

'Oh, it's okay, I'm fine really, and I have lots of supplies too,' the lad smiled, as he climbed from beneath the big bench with the crusty cages stacked above. 'I've got tons of tins upstairs in the kitchen. It's out back, in the extension ... There's a place for everything, and everything has its place, that's what my Gran used to say ... But that was before ...'

He stopped again and looked at the faces of the two men. There was a light that shone from that one. He saw it, a flash, then gone, amazing.

'So, what ya doing, you coming with us then?' Chris asked, heading for the stairs.

Billy stopped and waited, for Woodsy as well as the kid.

There was a smile as he replied, as though he'd just remembered where he left his gumballs.

'Yes, please, I'll tag alone, if that's okay with you? I'll grab some stuff first, my room is behind the bar ... We can take what you want from the kitchen, all the food we'll need, or we don't have to, it's up to your really ... Oh, and my name's Tyler, and I really like your dogs, are they brother and sister?' he asked with a grin, as he followed the two men, and their two mutts, away, up, and out into that grey day above.

'You okay? Better now?' Doug smiled, as his eldest looked up with the eyes of her mother.

'Yeah, thanks ... What happened?' Tally croaked, taking the offered sip of water.

'You blacked out ... Probably the paint fumes ... I told you to open the windows, didn't I?' he queried, his concern showing in his tone as he put the cup down.

'They were, Dad ... I opened them all when we first went up. Conn can tell you that.'

'I've already asked him ... He said he left to get some more clean water. When he got back, you were on the floor ... That's when he shouted for me ... So, here I am ...'

'Yeah, sorry, must have been the fumes then ...'

Tally went to move, but couldn't, as if cast in stone on that bed, weighted down and not about to go anywhere. Her head pounded, her eyes rolled, and so she rested back, with no more chores that day.

'Just the fumes?' her dad questioned, his features slowly changing.

'Dad,' she almost whispered, 'I saw that young woman again ... I've seen a lot of her lately ...'

'What young woman? Where was she, in the garden, did you see her from the attic window?' Doug softly demanded.

'No, Dad, she wasn't out there, she was in the attic, right there, next to me ... I thought Conn saw her too ... Dad, she's the one from my dark-side, the one that carries the light ... She's been trying to tell me something ... I wasn't able to hear her before, but I can now.'

Looking at his daughter, Doug dropped into the bed beside her, his focus on her serious face. His left hand came to rest on her cheek as he spoke.

'So, what was she saying?'

'... I'm coming for you ... They were her exact words ... I'm coming for you ...'

When Tally repeated it, her tone changed a little, as if trying to isolate those words away from all the others.

'She also told me to be ready, Dad, and I think she means be ready tonight ...'

'So, all those dreams you have, they were her telling you that? ... It's all her?'

'Yes, Dad, it's all her ... I don't know what's happening and I don't understand any of it? Why is she coming for me? ... I know I'm different, I've always known that, because of my dark-side ... Is this why then?'

He remembered the nights she called that word, what was it again? Doug's eyes travelled to rest on her young face. He said it without thinking, almost to himself, but not quite.

'... Luna ...'

'What?'

'That's what you mostly say, in your sleep, when you're having that dream ... I've heard you, Tally, so I know what I'm talking about here, believe me ... You get right into it sometimes ... Can't you remember me waking you? You said it earlier when I brought you in here ... The word Luna ... It's Italian for moon ...'

'Dad, I watched as she was born from the flames that swept this land ... The light she carries, inside, it was created from that fire ... She walks in the shadow of death, Dad, and she's coming my way ... How do I deal with that? ... This fight, it isn't over yet, and I know what I'm talking about here too, so, maybe, you should believe me right back ...'

That teenage daughter of his, well, she was becoming a woman quicker than he could snap his fingers. The look, the tone, she was already beyond her years, his little seasoned fighter and hard worker. With every inch of her being she would have to see it through. Tally already knew that and, really, there was no other choice, it was destined.

She was near, and getting nearer, yet the road was still too long for the miles yet to be rambled. Straight head and no turning back, the path towards the answer already marked and paved. Time and light were fading fast, and still it stretched forever, just one more road, then another turn, though limbs ached and the body burnt.

Down she went, once, maybe twice because of the slippery trail, unsure of her footing and rushing ahead. The pain was a barrier to be broken, not meant if not felt, the strength and the light within taking the strain. Courage came with fear and always together, it was never one without the other. It was ingrained, a vein through the centre, carved into the skin, a tattoo across the face.

If someone was there to care, they might have noticed the snigger of regret. Even with a thousand years notice, there was still never enough time.

Lifting up onto the rise, where the land lay below, the green belt was as wide as it was trailing into the distance, and softly lit by the fading light. The lanes and roads fended their way through bends and turns, a junction here, a crossroads there. With the sun sliding towards the horizon, it was a fine day to be lost but, all the same, there was still a purpose, and it was still an important one, nonetheless.

Watery half-light bled a swathe of transparent shadows across the ridge, as she dropped her way down through long grass and meadow weed. Liquids were taken on-board at the bottom, a breath too, and a second to think along with it. Trying to see the map in her dark-side, she rested back into the space behind her closed lids. Turning her head slowly, side to side, to gleam and not sleep, her vision grew stronger as she faced the distant hills. Slow and steady, searching and seeking, the girl's face, it was so near, so near, just not near enough.

Standing, to shake the feeling from her bones, her blue eyes looked to the next leg of the journey, that way and turn left. That was the direction the vision was clearest in, so that was the way to walk. Using the beacon in her head was fine, but a map would stop all the sitting and sinking. It was tiring and time consuming. Plus she was always left with that bizarre feeling afterwards, as though a warm rain soaked her clothed skin, right to the core.

Okay, enough of all that, time to move it, move it.

Following the route Tyler had mentioned, the dogs ran ahead, along the path through the woods, away from the pub of carnage with all its gory bits. Scurrying here and there, Carmen and Woodsy would soon circle back, always checking and sniffing, having another pee, or just doing what dogs enjoy best.

Light chatter told each of their stories, one at a time, of how they survived, where they were, and what they had lost. Each had a tale as sad as the last, even Carmen and Woodsy, but those days were over, never to be seen again. At some point, everyone's luck had to change, the dog's too, so with that hanging in the cooling air, and as they rounded the end of the trees, they were faced with a beautiful meadow overlooking the valley below.

Taking a breath, the two men paused, their eyes jumping down and across the lay of the land. The dogs never stopped, unless to do the do, but then they were off again, whizzing in a different direction, as if they had lessened their load somehow.

Tyler chased as he played, and he leapt as he gambled, as free as a yearling lamb. Up and down, have a break, then away, as quick at the mutts themselves. Spinning on the spot, he was then after Carmen, as his squeals of delight were released into the paling blue above. He suddenly stopped and looked down the hill, off to one side.

'HEY .... There's a big house over there ... Should we go and check it out?' he called back to Chris and Billy, who stood further up the slope, taking in the day whilst looking at the map.

'Where did the dogs go?' Billy then asked, glancing up from the folded sheet, to look down at the boy below.

Tyler's left hand lifted as he spoke, his finger pointing along the hillside.

'They went that way ... There's a path into a field ... It leads towards that place,' he replied, facing in the direction he indicated.

Chris looked at Billy, his face awash with low sunlight.

'So, it's that way then ... Try that house first, see who we find ... If no one's home, we'll crash there tonight, then start again tomorrow ...'

His words were said as he ambled away from Billy, down the soft incline, and towards the lad by the hedge. The other man tagged along, looking around him, cautious of what lay ahead. Neither of them could afford to be foolish, but both were prepared for the worst. Life wasn't the old life anymore, there had been changes, serious changes, and no two people had come through them the same.

Tyler had disappeared, off across the next field, and was stood near the entrance to the small orchard. Apple trees rested in their silence, as naked as the cherry, a stark reminder they were all dormant in the winter months, the spring yet to return in a flurry of pretty green skirts.

The big house on the hill was white on the outside, though the rough plaster had aged from the years of exposure. Chris and Billy saw its added wing, as they followed along behind Tyler, the palatial building more than impressive.

The imposing property demanded respect, as it lorded over the land from it raised position. From where they entered the end of the extensive grounds, it reeked of old money through those rendered walls. Judging by the massive tropical greenhouse, jutting out near the front, it had never been in short supply either.

Pulling to a halt, Chris took a moment, looking and listening. When he stopped, Billy and Tyler stopped. The only sounds were the birds and the breeze. Together they lulled a warm calmness over the day, their duet enough to relax any tormented soul.

'Somehow, I don't think we should go rushing up to the door ... You never know, and I'm not taking any chances after what we found in the pub, plus we still haven't heard from the dogs, which is a bit creepy, and shouting for them might not be a good idea either,' Chris ginned, looking from man to boy.

They both understood, their nods confirming it.

'Okay, we stay together, no loud voices, hand signals only, so that means radio silence ... I'll go first, then you, Tyler, then, Billy, you follow at the rear ... So, you ready?'

Chris almost whispered his words as they came to a halt by a kissing gate. As he spoke, his eyes flitted from one face to the other, in order of appearance. When he asked his last question they both nodded again.

'Good ... Eyes peeled everyone,' and off he walked, Tyler behind, and Billy up last.

Padding their way along the path, which led through a tunnel of foliage and onto a large lawn, a noise was heard, one that sounded vaguely like a door slamming shut. Standing, ears on alert, there was only one way of knowing where it had come from. So, off they trotted, heading towards it.

Life was still out there then, if a little scattered, which felt better than it did the day before. Alas, with every blue sky a little rain must fall and, sadly, even on a drizzly day such as that, there were still no guarantees regarding thunder claps not striking where they all stood.

The further she walked, the harder it became and, so, the more it ached. At the point of dropping on the track, she knew she had to rest. The journey was nearly killing her alone, and she hadn't even reached the face in the visions. Dragging one foot in front of the other, if it killed her getting there, then so be it. It seemed such a small price to pay in the long run, or walk, depending on how much energy she had left.

When the village came into sight, she almost cried with relief. A property was found and broken into, and then a couch was located and crashed on. Her skin blazed with her shroud of clothes against it, they had to come off, just so she could breathe and not suffocate.

Behind closed curtains, she dowsed her hot skin with cold water in the shower, her garments a discarded trail up the stairs. If she could have peeled away her skin, she would have, but it stayed there, as needed. As ugly as it was, even that had a purpose.

Not long, only one more millennia before she could cast it off to be at one with the night again. Until then, there was never enough time left, as the sun slowly dropped low in the sky. In the shadows she could be more, she could be what she was, and she could move as freely as she really moved.

Being caught up in such a tight corset of flesh was hideously restrictive at best, but there was no escaping it, she was cocooned within till further notice. Still, it could have been worse. She could have come back into a baby, or, even more futile, as an old person. Imagine trying to cover that terrain at that speed with a walking frame. Not in that lifetime.

One of the bright sides to being in human form was the consumption of food. That part was enjoyable, and she wasted no time in perfecting the art of lifting food to her mouth. Though the calories were absorbed in seconds, there was always room for room, her battery on constant recharge.

She changed into fresh clothes, clean socks, and better boots. Her hair was braided, tied back, away from her eyes and face. Looking at herself in the mirror, as she pulled on her newly acquired jacket, she readied herself for the next stint in the right direction. Leaving the way she had climbed in, she turned west, out of the village, and headed towards the hills.

Pain, in the form of a slice of light across the inside of her skull, drove her to her knees. Dropping on the spot, her fingers lifted to push into her eye sockets, the vision a stab to the mind. Once sense resumed, and the light died away, she knew where the girl was. The map had been opened in her head, but not by either of them. Someone else was picking at the veil, and the light they carried was blinding.

Lifting, she rushed for the junction, not even turning to look as she swerved to her left. Racing along the lane, eyes watered as the wind whipped passed her ears, her breath steady, her feet a pounded beat beneath her. Green blurred her peripheral vision, the streak of tree and shrub not seen as any importance.

Again, down, knees to the ground, so not far. She saw her, watching something, her focus on a sight out of view. Such pain, the younger girl was unaware of it, so it wasn't coming from her. Something or someone else was sending that signal. The harshness suggested it came from another source, the dented aura too strong to be that of a child.

That way, she ran, down the path to the right of the sheep field. The shortcut was enough to chop off the bend before the next junction. Leaping the fence, she dashed in a straight line, heading for the lane at the bottom of the hill. Out of one gateway and along, to another on the other side, and through, edging the trees, the dense grass cloying to move across.

Reaching the corner, where grass met tarmac, it came into view. Turning right, and looking up the rise of the meadow opposite, she swung over the gate and hurtled towards the old shack, which held a horde of chopped wood within. Taking shelter in the shadows, she sat on a on a log end and watched from the open doorway, checking for any movement.

Satisfied with a clear route, she stayed low against the hedge, always watching and listening. On hearing any sound she was still, neither a flinch nor a twitch, her eyes fishing through her dark-side. Releasing her breath, the trail proceeded, inching ever nearer that big house on the hill. As the dusk swam within the creeping shadows, time was running out.

Upon the third encounter of the white lightning through her brain, she went down, her hands fisted from the severity of the fire that curled her up inside. Slowly it spread to every sinew of her retching body, her blood almost at boiling point.

Reaching a tree house, her legs gave way, and it was as far as she could go. Whatever it was, with that power of will, it was enough to bend her knee and water her eye. Try as she might, she battled to resist and, as her balance took her weight to land heavily upon the wet turf beneath her, she fought off her dark-side.

A small face was seen at the window, as her lids protested against closure and the shadows tried to move in. It was a young face, an innocent face, but not the face she hunted.

Changes happen, and most for lots of different reasons. Some may happen for a good one, whereas some happen for no reason at all. In the previous two days there had been many of them, some harder to deal with than others, but there had been some massive ones, and it was something everyone just had to learn to live with. People either adapted as best they could, or they let them change them in strange ways. Internal changes were the hardest to fathom because, with some people, they were never quite sure if the damage, caused by those changes, occurred before or after the tide of fire.

There it was again, with the strength of the sickest migraine ever, plus added nausea for an extra gut kick. Almost stumbling along behind, Billy just about stayed upright, but he knew he had to get there soon, his life suddenly seemed to depend on it.

'Hurry up, kid, don't dawdle, it's getting bloody dark ...'

As he spoke, the big man's fist lifted to punch the youngster violently in the back, knocking him across the open space. Tyler twisted and collapsed onto the lawn, face down, eyes closed.

'Now, do as I say, boy ...'

Chris's amazement at the other man's violent outburst was blazoned across his face. Open mouthed, he looked at the one he thought he knew, the sudden change being one he hated with a passion. Gobsmacked, he almost shouted at him, which was a mistake he could have done without making at the time.

'Whoa, stop right there, mister, you can't treat him like that, he's a little boy, Billy, have a little care ... What's wrong with you, are you demented or something, did you treat your son like that before he died?'

'Will you shut the feck up, you whining little piss-ant, you drive me insane, all you do is moan, moan, bloody moan,' gushed the man he had helped, his face a collision of nasty snarl and angry features. 'Now, get outta my bloody way,' Billy barked, moving towards his tiresome companion.

With one punch, Chris went down, a heap on the floor, his wind departed and his fight over before it even begun. Looking up, he saw the inches thick chunk of wood coming down, to smack him across the side of the head. Three blinks flicked across blurred vision before all went black. Chris was out of the game and no longer a problem, along with that snivelling brat.

'... Yeah, I had a kid once, dead now, I hope ... He was a right pain in the arse, and a real whiner too ... He was so like you, and you so remind me of him sometimes, the sad little wanker ... There's another one who thought he was a clever bastard, but he wasn't, not really, also like you ... I would've killed the useless twat, but the crappy house nearly crushed me while I was beating his pathetic arse down in the cellar ... Well, hopefully, that finished what I started,' the changed Billy snarled down at an unconscious Chris, before his gaze drifted to the vast building before him.

There was a feeling about the place that unnerved him. He was unable read it properly, as though his transmission was scrambled somehow. Shutting his eyes, Billy checked beyond the walls using the space behind his closed lids. The dark-side, which dwelled within, was suddenly overpowered by a small shadow so deep it pushed him back. Bearing down, he used his will, but even that was not enough to rip it asunder.

It was in there, along with others, along with something else, something nasty, which hid in the gloom, right on the side-lines. From there it taunted, showing its bright spark within a shadowy frame, and there it stayed, quiet and without motion. It lingered to never leave him lonely, its finger to his pulse so he never forgot it was there.

It was the little boy's scream, that was how they knew, that was the change to their day. All faces snapped round to look at the red haired boy, with his rigid body and crying eyes. He had opened them wide, just before his mouth did the same, to release that one long note as loud as he could. Sadly, why had he reacted in such a way was soon to become apparent.

'It's him ... Please, don't let him take me,' he bawled hysterically, pointing at the big man, stood in a pool of shadow on the lawn. '... You have to stop him ... You have to stop him ...'

'They have to go below, now,' Tally snapped, her eyes looking to her dad for support.

'Conn, grab the dog, take the kids and go to the cellar, now, please,' Doug said over his shoulder, moving with purpose. 'When things get hot up here, I don't want of you in the way of it, you're my son and I love you ... So, please, do as I ask,' he grinned, turning to his youngest, stood near the door, his face not looking very happy with the smiled order. 'Karen, could you take them down, please ... Yoyo, Ben, you're with me and Tally ...'

'Yeah,' Karen nodded, 'no problem, love ... If you need me, bang the floor ... I'll hear you and come running.'

'Hey, she's not staying up here with you, is she? That's not fair,' Connor whined, his voice showing every level of his immaturity.

Tally replied on her father's behalf. Moving from her spot, she walked over to her younger brother. Taking his hand, she looked at him and smiled in her half arsed way.

'Bro, I have to stay up here with Dad and the boys, I'm part of this, remember, and it ends here tonight ... No more running, it's time I fight back, I have to, I've no other choice, this is it ... It'll be okay, I promise ... You trust me, don't you?'

He could have cried and argued, he could have stamped his feet and raged the room, but she was right, she was part of it, and they did have to fight.

'Yes, I trust you,' he grinned, his eyes trying to mean his feeble effort. 'Look at you being all brave, having the sight and fighting the fight ... Well, don't just stand there, win this stupid war, sis, I give you full permission ... Tally, what is it? Oh, no ... Not now ...'

All faces turned to the girl stood within a pool of soft light. Her once young face was suddenly ancient, as though a thousand years of memories had rendered it so. Wise eyes cast beyond the door in the far corner and, out, into the dusk and, away, into the shadows of the creeping gloom. Tally was seeing, and what she saw was not nice.

'It comes, the shadow from the dark-side ... It comes with the night, and I can't hold it back ...'

They were all gone in one sweep of roaring fire, Connor, her dad, Ben and Yoyo, Karen and most of the kids. They were simply wiped away, as if a layer of dust from a shelf, their line all clean and tidy, all except those three.

Tally watched in horror, with eyes wide open and tears streaming her face, as her breath almost faltered in her lungs. No one had screamed and no one had fought. They were never offered the chance, and there was no coming back for a second try either. There one second, gone the next, just like all the others, just like the large man on the lawn.

The residue of the turmoil found them hanging over a vortex of night sky, dangling above the open mouth of a floor pooled in deep shadows. It pulled at them, but never quite reached them, its fingers not having the ability to get a grip.

Fear and courage ripped from one child to the other, a light so bright the triangle of hope never faltered. Though the shadows waited on their waning strength, their gathered power was enough, along with the surge from somewhere else, suggesting they were not as alone as they first thought.

'How do I stop it, Betsy, how?' Tally cried, her voice breaking from the strain.

'Tally, it's him,' screamed the little girl, clinging to the drapes, her fingers digging into the claret coloured velvet.

'What? ... Who ...?' Tally questioned, looking at the kid beside her, her eyes checking she was still okay.

'It's Simon who needs to be brave and face it ... Simon, not me,' she cried back, her features pale in the room's blazing inferno.

'Why Simon ...?'

'He brought it here, so he has to send it back ... That's why it came and took his Daddy away, just like it did all the other horrid people ... It did, Tally, it really did ...'

What was the little girl talking about? It was as though she were telling another of her silly stories.

'How do you know that?'

'I saw it, Tally, what he did to Simon, how he hit and tortured him, my mind showed me ... That's how I knew his Daddy was here ...'

Tally saw the change. Betsy was no longer messing with her. Seems she had her own dark-side too.

'And you say Simon has to send it back ... Back to the dark-side?'

'... YES ... Back there, Tally, back to where it came from ...'

Tally looked at Betsy and smiled. She loved that kid, she really did.

'Okay, Moo, so I gotta do what I gotta do ... It's all part of my job, after all, I am a Super Hero, don't forget ...'

Before she let go of the couch, she leant over and kissed the forehead of the little girl she loved like a sibling. Her pretty blonde locks had been tied into neat braids that morning, they twirled in the spinning wind, lifting and flicking.

Pushing away with one hand, whilst holding onto a long curtain with the other, Tally swung across to the boy welded to the corner unit.

'Simon, please, you have to listen to me, it's very important ... Your Dad can't hurt you anymore, he's gone, but you have to face what he did to you, it's the only way ... You have to trust me, I'm so sorry ...'

'Tally ... NO ... They'll take you too ... Please, don't ... NO ... TALLY ...'

Betsy's words went unheard in the howling fire filled wind, as Tally grabbed the young boy with his neck in the bend of her elbow. Looking at the edge of the encroaching shadows, she spoke loud enough for both children to hear her. It had already taken everyone anyway, so what else did she have to lose.

'Betsy, please, don't move, be a good girl and stay, right, there ... Simon, pull on your inner light and don't look into your dark-side ... You have to fight your greatest fear, but I'm right here and I'll never leave you, I promise ... You have to be brave and do it, Simon, you have to face your Dad and the shadow men ...'

Pulling the young boy close to her front, Tally turned to face the rising night, its core almost to the ceiling. Simon screamed as it changed into a form he recognised, and then opened wide its gapping mouth, all the way from side to side, its black throat as thick as pitch.

Clamping her free hand over his mouth, Tally took her final breath before she ran them both towards his living nightmare. As they were enveloped into the oozing matter, it changed direction, sucking back in on itself, to blister and boil, and then eventually shatter, its shards a blizzard in black. It cast a shockwave of screams across the whole vale, in all directions, shifting trees and tarmac, then further still, off and into the rest of time.

Silence, for there was no sound after. There was nothing, as there always is with the birth of a new world.

Floating above, circling slowly, as if a million miles away, the voice was an echo over time and space. The tone, as light as air, the words, a mere whisper in an ear. Carried or held, there was no way of knowing, but there it was, that voice she knew so well.

'I couldn't reach you in time, I'm so sorry, but I'm here now ... I regret you had to fight it alone ... What you faced, I salute you ...'

The teenager heard, but she didn't see. Looking into the space behind her eyes, she couldn't open them. Even if she wanted to, it wasn't going to happen. Tally was finally in the realms of her dark-side, and it was a very strange place to linger.

'How did you know? I could see you but I couldn't reach you, where were you?' Tally heard herself asking, her voice dreamy and light.

From a misty blue shade of changing haze floated a form. The woman stopped and looked at her, the soft features pretty in an elegant way.

'I wasn't far, just not near enough ... I saw it all through the dark-side of a very brave little girl ... That's why I recognised you when you appeared in my vision of what was to come ... It was Betsy looking at you, I was seeing your face through her eyes ...'

A pretty smile graced the space between them. A pause, as quiet as a midnight breeze, held them in that soft light. Star filled orbs came to rest on the last one standing, the one who was the holder of the one true light.

'Really, Tally, you're so bright you didn't need me there anyway. You were enough to dispel the darkness that rested inside Simon, and he did trust you in the end, same as Betsy, and more than anyone else alive ... What came, it came for him, to show him fear ... I'm part of that shadow too, it helped carve me into being, made me who I am ... Same as you, in a way, which you already knew from the visions ... There was more, and you were right to question it, so, from the moment you did, you felt it there ... You just needed the strength, the courage, and the maturity, to face all those fears ... That's all it took, and you did it ... And I'm so proud of you, really, I am ... And you should be proud of you too ... What you faced, well ...'

Turning in the dusky mist, the beautiful woman, with the pretty blue eyes, almost glowed. Her iridescent light hung in folds around her shoulders and trailed to the stars beneath her feet. The world was but a globe to sit in her hand, to then shake and spin the clouds to cause a hurricane over the ocean.

Caught on her dark-side, there was no turning back, the shadows had consumed her. Tight fingers held her high above the world, looking down, seeing its curvature as a halo. Tally knew her eyes were open, she knew she was breathing, and she knew she had a pulse, because she could hear it rushing passed her ears as she took in her surroundings. The moon, she also noticed, was a full one, again, three nights running.

'Am I trapped here, in this place, with you ... Is that what saved me?' Tally softly asked, as though it did not project from her at all, but from someone else's body.

It wasn't cold and it wasn't hot, there was no noise, no breeze. Suspended animation, held aloft, gracing the night sky with her presence. Into infinity, the view was endless, the chill as real as the bottomless feeling resting inside her stomach. Tally was not lost, not yet, there was still hope.

'No, you're not trapped, you're never trapped here, and this wasn't what saved you ... What you did, that saved you ... There was no right or wrong way to do what you had to do ... Sacrificing yourself to end what had to be ended, that's quiet something ... Hey, don't be so hard on yourself, I know you wished you'd done more sooner ... But you couldn't have, you didn't know how ... And you weren't meant to, not until Betsy found the strength and courage she needed to tell you.'

'But everything I saw, I witnessed that, somewhere, down there, that fight and that loss ... I saw it all, down there ...'

As Tally spoke her chest heaved with a new feeling. It was cold at first, but then was washed away with a warm sensation when the woman touched her arm.

'Remember, you control the dark-side in you, no one else, your light is all knowing, don't lose that, if you lose that then you lose your reason for being ... That courage, that strength, it rises you above it, at it has done now ... You must never cast such a gift aside, you were born to it, as I was born to the fire ...'

'You need to tell me the truth, and you need to tell me why and how ... I saw and remember it all, but it doesn't seem real, this, here, now, doesn't make any sense ... When did it start, when the fires ripped across the country, and why Simon, he's just a little kid?'

Slowly, the earth was set to turn its cold side to the sun. Another day would soon be upon them, but, until such time, it would hold itself there, as if paused temporarily in the woman's gentle grasp. The smile that rested there was enough to tint those eyes with a hundred stars worth of magnificent light.

'You've been watching it for as long as you can remember ... The death and destruction has been a staple diet since the dawn of man, so you couldn't see you were still at war, but wars cause balance ... It filters out the weakling fool from the true fighter, and it's never forgiving ... You ask me when it started ... It started when that cowardly father crushed his young son's world and, well, that's when all deals ended ...'

Turning away, the tone softened as blue eyes dropped to the world in constant darkness. A loud sigh was released, her sadness evident and her heart as heavy.

'Don't you see, they took William last because they wanted him the most ... The dark-side, it's not there just to protect the meek, oh, no, it's there to right wrongs too, and no one gets a second chance, Tally, no one ... The darkness shows them that for a reason, and that reason is final ...'

Floating in the midnight sky, the woman's hands moved to indicate the earth, so small and blue in all that black. The star-studded heavens lay above and beyond, the light fading away as it hung in dormant silence.

'Love one another ... It's a simple rule, you managed it, your family, those kids, the adults even, and that is the reason you all hold the light within ... So, it is possible, you all prove that ... Those who are gone, like your mother, and all the others ... They did that to themselves, because they could not love what they already had, they gave it up, and they cared even less ... That's why they are not here now, and that is how this story ends ...'

Beautiful eyes bore into Tally. The young girl had asked for the truth, so, she was told the truth. Whether she could deal with it or not was down to her. No one asked to be like them, it was just how it was, as with life and death, you lived or died.

Tally held that gaze, as her breathing slowed to small gasps, from where she moved behind her lids, seeing into her dark-side. The one stood before her, she did not fear her, not with that light and that voice. Though she did not understand it fully either, she knew her to be correct in all she said.

'You are the start of what comes next,' the lovely lady smiled. 'Simon made this happen, he and all those that felt his pain, deep down, right to the very core of them ... If their light dims, or becomes entangled within their dark side, we all lose, along with mankind ... It is a cruel partnership, yes, but we are also affective ...'

Listening was her only option, and swimming amongst the stars. It was a dream, a mare, a collision of all things crazy. That person, that spirit, that whatever the hell she was, she had Tally lifted as high as that stunning full moon. Her senses reeled with the magnitude of her amazing position. With such a wonderful night all around her, and that big silver moon to her left, she watched as the one before her smiled.

'We only do what is required of us, we only make that decision once, and we never make it lightly ... Changes happen for a reason, and love must always win ... And, inside, you know that too, so that is why you are not dead ... Open your eyes, Tally ...'

Pausing, as the words echoed around her mind to die away, a memory lingered there, or was it a dream maybe? The vision bled away into the light, as her lids fluttered up, and the world around her became the one she knew from before.

The room was no longer in flames or collapsing, and there were no rising shadows or screaming children. Just one body lingered, stood by the window, looking out across the land. It was a woman with long blonde hair down to her waist, and she wore a pretty dress with flowers on it, red and yellow, in watery shades of pastel. No voices beyond the door, no laughing or talking, and no chatter from a host of beings. Tally spoke, her voice hardly heard.

'Where is everyone? Is everyone okay?'

'There you go again, still thinking of others ... Don't you ever think of yourself?'

'I just need to know ... Please ...'

The woman turned slowly in the light to look at Tally, across to where she lay. That face, it was her.

'Luna ...?'

Walking towards the teenager, she smiled down at her, her gentle glow radiating once again.

'Yes, Luna, and please let me start by apologising for the major let-down, that's my rubbish timing I'm afraid, tried to get here but the shadows were against me ... Still, managed it in the end, and it's really nice to finally meet you, Tally ... Oh, and sorry about just now too, I had to readjust time a little, it gets a bit groggy when you have to bounce back ... And, yes, everyone's fine, just worried about you ... They're waiting in the front room, the one with that awful greenhouse attached ... And what is wrong with some people, why grow plants that smell like rotting bodies? Really, what is that all about, I ask you?' she smiled in reply, taking a perch near Tally's feet.

'So ... Everyone's okay, good ... Connor and Dad too, and Moo and Simon?'

'Yes, Tally, your brother and Dad are fine, and Betsy too ... Though Simon's probably had the biggest fright I think, bless him, after facing his biggest fear, his father ... Karen's with him now ... That man broke his oath when he stopped loving Simon, from there, it was just a matter of time ... Think of it like the catalyst that reopened a savage old wound ...'

'Sadly,' she continued with a half-smile, 'Simon's light was damaged in such a way it triggered the tide that followed ... He didn't know, poor little boy, but the shadows knew, and it was them who called for it to be released ... You were able to see beyond because you hold the light, and you learnt how to control it properly ...'

There was a brief pause, but it didn't last.

'Don't look so worried, it'll be okay ... The others, those sat out there, they have it too, the light within, but it isn't as bright as ours, so they might never understand the power at their fingertips, and sometimes that's not such a bad thing ... Everyone is different, but you are careful, you used yours to save them, your light is true ... Each of our abilities are on a different level, how you handle such a gift is down to you.'

'Are you staying?' Tally asked, sort of getting it but not quite. Well, she was still only a teenager.

'I thought I might, just for a few nights maybe ... When I get bored I can take a wander, see what I find ... Like they say, no peace for the wicked,' was grinned down at the tired face smiling up at her. 'You're bushed, look at you ... Get some sleep and I'll go shake them up for some lunch, you must be famished after all that hard work ...'

'I am a bit hungry,' Tally replied, her mind dizzy from everything that had happened. 'Will they remember any of it?'

'Well, that's the good news and the bad news ... They won't, but you will, sorry ... You'll be damaged for a few days, but you'll mend soon, I promise ...'

Sleep was there, leaning on heavy lids. Luna could see it. Standing, she dropped the blanket over Tally before she moved to the door, turning before she left.

'You're a very strong young lady ... You managed to stop the tied, not many have that power ... Now, get some rest, I'll be in the kitchen if you need anything ...'

The door closed with a quiet snap and Tally was alone again. Only a moment ago there had been hell fire and damnation, suddenly life was life again, and not a fight to outwit death. Laughter filtered through, from the garden, from the hallway. It was a nice sound, gentle and eager to be heard. Safety came with those giggles and cheers, and although it was only a little thing, somehow, it was a really big thing all the same.

The End

### About the Writer:

### Tam Sturgeon

Tam Sturgeon doesn't actually live anywhere, preferring to be a Nomad for life. Born in High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire (England), she has spent a majority of her years moving from one place to another looking for the perfect home. Married and divorced, twice, she roams and then settles wherever she sets down her cowboy hats and bipolar condition. She has sculptured words for over thirty years and has written eight novels (4 x love story, 3 x zomiefest, and 1 x sci-fi) in the last ten. Words are her first love, (after her son, of course), which are then closely followed by music, art and Jack Daniel's. She is currently still based in England ... But that could change anytime soon.

