

## Dark Patches

## Part 1: The Trailer

### By Adam Patterson

### Smashwords Edition

### Copyright 2011 Adam Patterson

 www.smashwords.com/adampatterson

### Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and places either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is purely coincidental.

The author would like to thank Daniel Harlow and Joe Martin for their time and effort to help make this story happen.

Chapter 1 – A long trip to nowhere

"Oh, for Christ's sake, who's farted again?" Casey Brown could not open the window any further. In fact, all the windows in the seven seated Chrysler Voyager were open to full capacity. She elected instead to poke her entire head out of the front passenger side-window to take greater gasps of air.

Salina Squires woke with a start at the sharp sound of her friend's voice. Her brother, Dom, who sat beside her at the rear, gave her only a cursory glance before returning his eyes back to the window.

The day had started hot again, and they all set off at just past eight this morning. The five passengers sat in their seats in a variety of positions that changed as regularly as a person shifting in their sleep did. Only the driver, Doug King, remained in the one basic position, although he somehow appeared to be the most comfortable one. After just under six hours and a few stops later, they were now coming close to their destination. Conversation had burnt itself out and each person was down to the bare minimum of comments or questions as they mainly sat in self-amusement by daydreaming, fiddling or simply napping.

"You'll have your head lopped off if you lean out any further," Doug shouted above the combined noises of the speeding engine, the high octave sounds created by Van Halen's guitar that pumped from the Chrysler's speakers and the cool breeze, though normally placid, which whipped through the windows of the speeding vehicle. He looked at Casey with an expression that was almost but not quite blank as he held the humming steering wheel steady between his large hands – an expression that was neither reprimanding nor humorous.

"Cut my head off on what, stupid?" she sneered, obediently pulling her head back inside anyway. "It's on your side where the cars pass by, not mine."

Doug looked away from his fiancée – the fiancée he has promised to marry on numerous occasions: all of them drunken occasions – and faced the road again. Casey watched his face from the corners of her eyes and knew by the way he chewed his bottom lip and shook his head slightly that he was not finished yet: Doug always had the final word. So she waited.

"I didn't mean a car, stupid," he finally returned. A weak but definite smile turned a corner of Casey's mouth – the corner facing away from Doug so he would not see, thus making things worse.

"What I meant was a low branch or fence or..."

"What tree?" she asked him with a purposely-pleasant smile upon her lips. "What low branch? What close fence? What close anything?"

Doug stared blankly at her for a moment before returning his eyes back to the road. She could see him looking around for a low branch or a close fence with no success. Casey turned away again and gazed idly from the passenger's side window with a content expression. She waited again.

"It's your fuckin' head. Don't complain to me..." His words trailed off and were lost under the sound of David Bowie's voice that now emitted from the stereo. Another triumphant smile returned to Casey's lips.

'Daring' Dave Watson leaned forward from the row of seats behind until his head came between the two at the front. "Cows," he simply said.

Doug and Casey stole a questioning glance at each other before looking round at Dave. "What?" they simultaneously asked.

"Cows," he repeated. "It was the cows that farted, or 'shitted', I should say."

They returned their eyes to the road, still none the wiser.

"The smell of cow shit is everywhere," Dom Squires called out in his best West Country accent from the rear seats. Salina gazed sleepily at her brother with a look of non-amusement before closing her eyes again and returning to her doze.

Phoebe Samuels, a hairdresser and the youngest of the bunch at only eighteen, sat beside Dave on the middle row and continued to say nothing as she gazed dreamily into the hillsides that rolled passed like a continuous movie backdrop.

It would take a long journey and a full six days to know each other thoroughly, meaning that they all knew of each other anyway. Some members were obviously already close: Salina and Dom were brother and sister, and Casey and Doug were engaged to be married. Dave was a good friend of Dom and his sister, but did not know Doug and his girlfriend well. Today was the first time he met Phoebe, a close pal of Salina (who was hoping to pair them up together). Salina was also a long-term friend of Casey, an old school pal since the days she played with rag dolls and wet her knickers when the teacher shouted.

Although the six travellers appeared on the surface to be a bunch of disgruntled individuals, they were all genuinely happy and eager to go. Work had finished for a week and holiday time had begun. 'Somewhere in the West Country' was where Doug described the location. Being in the West Country would be a real change from the usual long weekends away to places such as Brighton and London. But the main reason was the convenience of the trailer.

"Are we there yet?" Dave bellowed jokingly. Doug glanced at him in the rear-view mirror and could not help but smile.

"Actually," he replied as he turned the wheel and steered the large vehicle around a tight bend in the thinning road, "we _are_ almost there, yet."

Dave returned his eyes to the side window and allowed a beaming smile to cross his face. The passing scenery reflected off his glasses, the burning sun gleaming from its thin metal rim like sparkles as the passing trees created a stroboscopic effect. Just the knowledge that he would soon be out of this sweaty seat would be enough to make this a very good day. They were scheduled to leave well before midnight the previous day to avoid the summertime traffic made mainly of holidaymakers and day-trippers such as themselves, but their plans changed due to an unexpected problem with the Chrysler's immobiliser. Fortunately, and unexplainably, the problem appeared to have solved itself overnight.

A dip in the road caused the vehicle to jolt suddenly, snapping Salina from her doze again. Her dark brown eyes snapped open and her left arm lashed out involuntarily, swiping her brother's shoulder. He turned to her, shifting in his seat. "What's matter?" he asked.

"Sorry... nothing..." she muttered sleepily, and she was just about to shut her eyes again when the familiarity of the surroundings caught her attention. Her vision cleared and her mind instantly freshened. That strangely shaped rock... the large, rambling farmhouse – she was amazed it was still standing – and that old, wooden bridge that her father used to tease her about when she was young by saying that it would collapse when he drove across... all were still here. Nothing seems to change in these parts. Even her uncle's trailer never seemed to change over the years; never looked older or different. Coming here was like her personal way of stepping back into time – times that she kept dear in her memories. Even though she is only nineteen years of age, the death of her father and the conversion of a loving, decent mother into a devoted alcoholic was, to her, the end of the good times. If it were not for Dom's support then she would surely have gone out of her mind by now.

"About here, yeah?" Doug's voice bellowed above the music.

"Yeah, yeah! Only a little longer... about five minutes, or less," Dom replied eagerly.

Salina could not help but release a large grin that had not surfaced for as long as she could remember. With her spirits now rising, the troubles of her life seemed to be draining away on each mile passed like sand slipping through an hourglass. Yes, it was like going back into the past, but this time her good friends had replaced her mother and father. And Dom is still here, of course. She yawned and swept strands of her dark hair from her clammy forehead.

Now the Chrysler began to slow as it turned another tight bend in the road, passing a large plywood board propped against a tree bearing the words:

COUNTRY FAYRE AT

SPELLING'S FARM

FOOD – DRINK – LARGE MARKET

SAT 15TH

Casey craned her neck to read the board as they trundled slowly by. The thought of food and drink, especially locally brewed beer, made her stomach rumble and her mouth water even though she had been snacking on crisps, candy and canned drinks since leaving her house this morning. Although she was reasonably slim, her bad habits for eating junk food were starting to take its toll on her once shapely tummy.

A large, flat, grassy field to their left soon came into view and the vehicle came to a near stop. Doug twisted in his seat and called out to Dom again. "This it, or what?"

"Yeah, mate," he shouted back. "Just turn into here and drive down it. You'll see it at the back."

The Chrysler lurched forward onto the grass and bumped and shuddered across the uneven terrain.

"Yeah, just drive on down here," Dom continued and then pointed to the silent hulk of the trailer sitting at one end of the field. There... you can't miss it!"

Salina saw the trailer coming ever closer, smiled and then suddenly felt the urge to vomit. Her hand went immediately to her mouth as she started to retch.

"You okay, sis?" Her brother grasped her shoulder but she shrugged him away. The sickness rapidly subsided, dropping like a lead weight to her bowels before a cold sensation rushed through her entire body as though her blood had turned to icy water.

"I'm all right, I'm okay," she assured him, nodding. "Just a little car sick, that's all. Thank God we're here." That seemed to satisfy Dom and he returned his attention back to their destination as the Chrysler slowed to a stop. Salina shut her eyes until her rapidly beating heart returned to near normal speed again. When she reopened them, the sight of her beloved trailer did nothing to lift her from the coldness that kept creeping up and down her spine.

"Were gonna stay in your trailer!" Dave Watson declared excitedly in his hopeless American accent.

"What's that?" Dom mumbled.

"It's what they call caravans in the U.S. Didn't you know?" By now, Dave's head was swivelling briskly from side to side upon his slender neck, making him appear like some curious meerkat. His wide eyes, emphasized by his glasses, caught sight of the shabby-looking trailer and his face dropped like a stone in deep water.

"Is this it?" he asked with his usual trademark undertones of sarcasm. "It's in the middle of bloody nowhere!"

### Chapter 2 – The caravan

"It's something out of the museum, ain't it?" Dave called to no one in particular as he pulled his holdall from the back of the vehicle. He dropped it carelessly to the dry, grassy earth, removed his glasses and wiped the sweat from his face and forehead.

Looking around he realized that he was alone out here. The mixture of laughter and general chitchat with raised, excited voices spilled from the open doorway of the trailer. Their entire luggage was now clear of the Chrysler, which now stood peacefully under the sun with its hot, ticking engine releasing its heat into the already warm day. He could almost hear it sigh with relief after its long journey beneath the relentless blaze of June's summer.

Dave Watson was referring to the age of the six-berth trailer, which, after his first impression, dismissed it as a dinosaur of the mobile home kingdom. He now turned to face the trailer again and studied his new abode for the next few days with more attention. It sat upon a thick crust of weatherworn concrete, forever stained with its hulking shadow. Its metallic body was, to his tastes at least, an offensive dark brown and coffee-cream colour with the darker of the two colours decorating the top half of the trailer and the door. Patches of discolouration through many years of exposure to the elements and small spots of corrosion could be seen dotted here and there across the metallic walls. He could clearly see that it could easily accommodate six people, but the thought of sleeping at close proximity to persons he had not even met until today filled him with distaste. Well, he thought somewhat positively, hopefully the wonders of alcohol can sort that out. In fact, I should be so pissed that I won't give a flying fuck.

Anyway, anything was an improvement from staying in the same house as his henpecking mother, and at the age of twenty-eight, he felt it was long time he was gone.

A long spell in Guantanamo Bay detention camp would be an improvement, he retorted dully to himself as he slammed the vehicle's door shut. Picking up his holdall again, he strolled leisurely towards the trailer, cursing under his breath as to why that muscle-bound idiot did not park closer to it. It was at least thirty feet away, and knowing that they had to unload their cases and there was nothing to stop him from parking nearer, Dave began to wonder if there was any sense at all in his thick skull.

"I could've parked better than that and I can't even drive," he muttered as he neared the open doorway that appeared like a small gaping chasm in a strange metallic cave. He decided he would mention that to him in person as he climbed the three crudely made, concrete blocks steps before stepping hesitantly inside to join the other members of the outing.

Phoebe Samuels supposed that the trailer, even though a bit decrepit and smelling of something mixed between old plastic and mildew, would do just fine for their few days away in sunny Devon. Here she could get pissed, get stoned and behave her age, which, in her eyes, was behaving like a party animal. The fact that Dave Watson was not a hunk with film star muscles and did not have a rough, rogue-like appearance was enough to put a slight downer on her week away. By his actions and almost camp-like comments and mannerisms, Phoebe strongly questioned his sexuality. Dave was maybe a good friend of Salina – and probably a really nice guy – but her idea of hoping to pair them together was beyond her understanding. Anyway, what were pubs and clubs good for other than drinking in? She knew she was a good-looking girl, and with her luscious dark hair and piercing green eyes, she was not far from beautiful. Plus she had never come across an unsuccessful night out on the pull to date.

"It's so damn hot in here," she moaned as she loitered casually about her new temporal accommodation, opening empty cupboards and fiddling with no interest with the numerous ornaments collected over the many years from fun days away. She brushed a thin layer of dust from a large ashtray that had a fading coloured picture of a tiger at its thick glass base. The big cat seemed to stare back at her with more wearied than menacing yellow eyes. She placed it back upon the small breakfast table that protruded from one side of the trailer.

"It's fucking roasting _and_ stuffy," she stressed, turning to the nearest body to her, which happened to be Salina. She also turned to face her, eyeing her up and down with slight irritation before stepping away.

"Well, the reason may be because this place has been shut-up for months on end and its metal walls has been sitting in the direct sunlight all day," Salina snapped. "Just help out and open a few windows instead of fiddling with things."

Phoebe sneered at her turned back and slumped down on one of the two benches that sandwiched the breakfast table with its peeling Formica edging. A small puff of dust gusted up from the cushioned seat as her light bodyweight pressed upon it. It had an aroma of stale cigarettes from years past and fried food. Her nose wrinkled momentarily before sneezing twice.

Everyone heard Doug and Casey's laughter coming from the master bedroom situated at the far end. They were obviously unpacking their clothes (and probably unpacking the ones they were already wearing by the way they were giggling, Phoebe imagined with an undertone of envy). Now _he_ was more her type with his big muscles and surfer-boy blonde hair.

"I bet he never holds back in the bedroom department," she inaudibly muttered as she sat and watched Salina and her brother fuss around this oversized tin can, switching on appliances and opening windows and running the hose across the shower. She wondered where in hell they get their services from in a place as far-out in the sticks as this. She pondered on this a little longer and remembered: from their uncle's house across the field. They were all to take a little hike up there sometime today to say 'hi!'

Dave appeared at the doorway looking slightly bemused. She could see from where he stood that his eyes were blinking rapidly, darting back and forth and up and down as they curiously searched the interior whilst his head remained dead still. A little time later, his face brightened and he stepped fully inside the mobile home with a peculiar, bouncy hop.

"Quite surprised it looks better inside than out," he casually commented as he swung his holdall by its handle and sent it sliding to the far end of the trailer as though it was a bowling ball. It collided with the back seat with a soft thump before settling next to a collection of other luggage. His eyes caught Phoebe's for a moment and they both looked awkwardly at each other. Phoebe gave him a smile that felt as right on her face as a handlebar moustache.

Dave's nose also wrinkled, but this time he declined to comment any further. He stepped over to a door next to the smaller bedroom containing the bunk bed and turned its handle. It made a loud 'click' when it opened to reveal a basic looking, slightly worn toilet. Again, Dave restrained from saying anything, although his face told a story enough on its own.

Salina stood with hands on hips as she continued to watch her friend's progress within her beloved trailer. "Glad it's sort-of to your approval, sir," she called to him with a hint of irritation. Either not hearing her or choosing to ignore her, Dave continued on his little nose-around.

"Look, we have all the mod cons," she pressed further, turning the cold-water faucet over the kitchen sink on fully. At first, there was only a tugging sound from the pipe work below followed by an air-block gurgle. Then an explosion of cool water erupted in a sudden torrent, spraying the bare flesh of her arms. "There," she said after a little surprised gasp. "We have flowing water." Holding out her hand, she then gestured at the dark screen of the T.V sitting in the lounge area. "We also have electricity." Her hand then went towards the bathroom. "We also have showering facilities. Is this all to your liking, sir?"

Dave finally glanced back at her and gave her his usual boyish grin that never failed to suppress any differences of any degree between them. Salina rolled her eyes at him and looked away, her face finally melting into a wide smile. Her lips soon dropped when she heard him lighting a cigarette.

"Not in here, please, Dave," Salina snapped, causing both Dom and Phoebe to look round. Only Dave turned slowly towards her, his own face wearing a look of gob-smacked surprise. The cigarette he now guiltily held in his hand emitted a gentle twist of smoke into the stuffy air. His face then contorted into an expression that told her: _why not_? _This caravan has the look of the inside of an ashtray, anyway._

Before he could tell her what his face already said, and the sheer fact that not one mouth was a virgin to a cigarette during their trip in the Chrysler, Salina explained that she just wanted to 'freshen the air' before the night's drinking and smoking began. Dave, with no further word, obediently walked to the open doorway and stepped out into the relentless heat of the sun to continue his cigarette.

The giggling behind bedroom door suddenly stopped. A moment later, there was a loud 'click' and their door swung open. Plumes of smoke billowed out as Doug and Casey stepped from their room for the week like two stars entering 'stage right' through swirling, theatrical clouds of dry ice. All eyes were upon them as Doug, now dressed only in knee-length shorts, and Casey, wearing only a revealing, white bikini, ambled casually into the middle of the trailer. The hand rolled cigarette that hung from one corner of Doug's mouth filled the entire room with the strong smell of marijuana.

Dave poked his head inside and eyed them up and down, his face pulled into an expression of not quite distaste and not quite amusement. His nose detected the whiff of ganja and he craned his head further to verify its source, still managing to keep his own almost-smoked cigarette outside.

Phoebe's eyes searched the tanned muscularity of Doug's exposed trunk, noting his slight beer belly that looked not out of place upon his large frame. From behind, Dom took small, sly glances at Casey's shapely buttocks from beneath the thin material of her swimsuit as she stood beside her boyfriend. He could even see the top of the love-heart she had tattooed on her right buttock only a week ago. She started to giggle again and adjusted her bikini bottoms, allowing Dom to catch an eyeful of the bare flesh of her backside.

Salina slid from her room, also staring at the near-naked bodies of her two friends from behind. With an uninhibited look of amusement spreading across her face, she then squeezed between Doug and the breakfast table in order to stand before them like an inspecting sergeant major. "You two hot, or something?" she asked. The growing smile had now pulled the corners of her mouth up wide.

The two said nothing but only grinned silently back. Casey was just reaching up to relieve her boyfriend from his spliff when Salina suddenly grabbed it from its place between his lips and placed it between her own, giving Doug a sly wink as she did so. After drawing hard, she tilted her head up to the ceiling and blew the smoke out through loosely clenched lips. "Thanks," she said and trotted off to her bedroom with the spliff between her fingers, having to squeeze past Doug's large bulk again. "I needed that."

Before she turned back to her bedroom, she caught the questioning look in Dave's eyes as he remained upon the concrete steps.

"I'm confiscating this," she told him in her best authoritative voice and slammed the door shut.

### Chapter 3 – Uncle's place

Dom's hand moved in a circular motion across the glass, clearing an almost perfect circle in the blackened grime that spotted the dining room window of his uncle's house. He placed one single eye against the glass and peeked inside, cupping his hands around his face in an attempt to dampen the sun's reflection.

"Can you see anything?" his sister called from behind, her head bobbing up and down impatiently as she tried to peer beyond her brother's own spying face. "Any sign of life?"

Dom's head shook from side to side from within his cupped hands. He continued to peep inside for a moment longer – swapping left for right eye as if he needed a second opinion – then drew away from the dirty window. "Nothing," he sighed. "Let's try the other window at the front, next to the kitchen."

"But surely they would have heard us knocking," his sister explained as she trundled after him. "Even if they're upstairs they would have heard us by now. It's obvious they're out somewhere." She stopped, slipped her phone out of her jeans pocket and flipped it open. Her eyes squinted from the sun's reflected light upon the display screen as she checked the signal's strength. "My phone's still got no signal," Salina yelled after her brother. "Have you still not got?" Her voice dissolved into a mere mumble after realising her brother had marched off on his own mission to find his missing family members.

The house, a stereotypical rambling country house looking in need of slight repair, stood silently and unusually empty under the early evening's sun. The eastbound shadows that would soon spread its full length across the vast, grassy field that served as their backyard shaded the two young siblings from the relentless sun as they trekked from window to window and door to door. Empty was not a word Salina and Dom would have used to describe the general 'feeling' around their uncle and aunt's home today. 'Lonely' or even 'abandoned' would have been a more accurate depiction.

Since arriving at this plot of land that had given them both years of happy memories, they both instantly shared an unexplainable sensation of unease. Although neither of them mentioned their feelings at the time, they each read on the other's face the apprehension that they felt.

"They know we're coming," Dom reassured. "I phoned them this morning to let 'em know we were on our way but going to be arriving later than planned."

Once they both reached the front of the large, stone house again, Dom made his way to another smaller but equally grimy window that stood above a dripping overflow pipe caked in green moss. He noticed during the last few visits that the upkeep and housekeeping have been diminishing at a steady pace. He put it down to their age: they were both long retired with a cocktail of medical problems between them and have vast amounts of money in property but not much in their wallets. His Uncle Dick was his grandfather's younger brother who became an important figure during Dom and Salina's childhood. Although he and his sister remember him as an icon of fun and leisure, he played a more serious role as a guardian during their parent's stormy times. Unbeknown to them in their early years, their pleasant trips away to this very house in the West Country was a result of their evacuation until their mother and father's relationship had cooled enough for them to return. In later years, their parents used to accompany them on their annual summer trip to the same trailer that now stood in the field beyond this house. They always used the trailer for holidaying rather than stay in the ample-roomed house because Salina and Dom had more or less demanded that their holiday would never feel the same without it, and this tradition had continued to the present.

Dom's mind idled whilst his eyes scanned the western side of the building, focusing on the few opened upstairs windows but failing to find any on the ground floor. Even out here in the sticks, he remembered his uncle being over cautious about security – cautious enough to send them the trailer's key by registered post rather than leave it somewhere hidden by the house for them when they arrived, a procedure that continued to baffle him. Dom advanced to a small pane of glass, and his decision to cut across a dry patch of soil and flowerbed caused the right leg of his jeans to snag on a rose bush, tearing a small, perfect triangle in the material as he yanked his leg violently to free it.

"Fuck it!" he blurted just before he kicked out at the bush, snapping a stem and causing its red flower to hinge towards the earth.

"Careful!" Salina cried.

Dom Squires glared at his sister defiantly before continuing on to the window. "They must be in," he told her as he stepped onto tiptoes. "Their car's still here."

Salina shrugged her narrow shoulders at him. She looked round and indeed saw her uncle's old Renault on the driveway. "They just went for a walk somewhere, stupid." She watched as Dom began to hoist himself up by the stone windowsill to peek inside the semi darkness of the house's interior. "It's such a nice, hot day."

"Can't see anything," her brother said before lowering himself back onto the ground. He absently brushed his hands together and looked up at his sister staring silently back at him. "Never mind, sis. We'll come back later. We've got all week to see them."

Salina let out a long sigh of disappointment and placed both hands upon her hips. "Come on, then. Let's go," she muttered almost inaudibly.

A wan smile crossed Dom's face as he stood and watched his younger sister stroll by with drooped shoulders. It reminded him of the many times when she was in a sulky mood for not having her way or not having what she wanted here and now. As children, regular and bitter squabbling and fighting was a daily occurrence, but as they both grew their fondness for each other grew with them, and in the recent years they had become almost inseparable to the point that people would talk. Their closeness had mainly been the result of the unexpected and very premature death of their father just over two years ago. It was a sudden and unforeseen case of diagnosis and death from an extremely aggressive brain tumour. Now, after their mother had steadily disintegrated into an alcoholic within those two years, their closeness was the only thing that kept them from becoming one themselves. Still scarred by the passing of their father, the strain of living and coping with the unpredictable and often violent moods of their mother had led them both to almost breaking point. In a way, it was like losing both parents.

"Come on, girl," he said, adding a little humour to his voice. "What's all this grump about? They'll be back later..."

Dom's voice became a nonsensical mumble in Salina's ears as her eyes first scanned across an object and then locked upon it. She recognized it as a plastic shopping bag that looked as though it was full with items. It was lying in the full sunlight on the pathway leading to the front door on the western side of the house. She had been totally unaware of it when they first arrived – maybe even stepped around it on their quest to find their uncle and aunt. Now she moved dreamily towards it, an uneasy feeling in her bones indicating that this bag had some connection with their unexplainable concern.

"What you seen?" her brother called, but she did not even hear him. He simply stood and watched as she strolled casually back down the gravelled path with her head fixed. Then his eyes found what had caught her interest and he followed closely behind.

They both stopped in front of the bag and simply stood staring at it as though it was some incredible artefact. A full two-pint plastic bottle of milk, cookies and a ready-cut loaf of bread were clearly visible within.

The next thing they both did was look at each other with the same questioning expression. Why were these perishable items sitting there in the full sunlight on the gravelled path?

"See, you said they were out and about shopping. Here's the proof." Dom said this with a positive tone, although his sister heard the concern beneath. "Mmm... chocolate chip cookies: my favourite." He added a grin, but when he looked at his sister again the smile on his lips faltered. "They only buy them when I come over, don't they?"

"Because they don't like 'em themselves," Salina whispered mainly to herself.

They remained in thoughtful silence for a while, Salina crouching by the shopping bag with Dom leaning over her, his shadow partly shielding his sister from the sun.

"Just forgot to take it indoors, that's all it looks like," Dom finally said. "I reckon they were in a hurry because they knew we're coming over... probably gone back out again for more things." He touched the plastic bottle with the back of his hand. "Hey, the milk's still a little bit cool. It can't have been that –"

"Gone where?" Salina sighed as she stood up with the bag in her right hand. "Like you said, their car's still here and the shops around this place are miles away." She strolled off in the direction of the house again with her head slumped towards the earth. Dom watched her walk away, thinking of how their opinions had suddenly swapped around. He was also becoming more than a little annoyed at her constant pessimistic attitude. He could understand her concerns, sure, but it was only early afternoon and they had just arrived. It was a bit too soon in his opinion to send out a search party just yet.

"Let's go knock on the Tucker's door," he said. "Maybe they know where they are." There was no reaction from his sister. "They do have friends around here, you know!"

Salina stopped but never looked round.

"Come on, Sal. Let's come back in an hour." Dom started to stroll down the path towards her. "They'll probably drop by the caravan on their way back home."

There was still no reaction from her.

"Sal?"

Salina remained standing in total silence, her head still facing the ground. Dom expected some unnecessary outburst at any second, maybe for a way of letting out some stress and grief from the last few months. But she did no such thing. What she did do was simply raise the arm not holding the shopping bag and point to the grass by her feet. "What's that?" she asked with a flat tone.

Dom leaned over her shoulder and tried to see what she was pointing at with no success. All he could see was a plain area of grass covered only by their shadows. He was just at the point of asking her what she was inquiring about when he realized that their shadows pointed due east, which fell to one side of this other dark patch upon the grass. He moved around his sister to get a better view, standing over the blackened mark like an inspector at a crime scene.

"It's just a burnt patch of grass," he told Salina who was now crouching down onto one knee to get a closer look. "Had a bonfire, by the looks of things."

As she leaned over to examine what she believed to be something spilt upon the earth rather than scorched by fire, a very unpleasant chill spread over her entire body, starting from within her spine and creeping its way across each nerve stem. It was the same sensation she felt when they first arrived at the trailer, and she had to fight to keep the nausea from also returning. She shivered despite the day's relentless heat and looked uneasily up at Dom who remained staring unconcernedly at her new find. Salina reached out a hand and gingerly wiped it across the dark grey surface. The grass felt strangely soft and mushy upon her skin and she recoiled in revulsion, holding her fingers up to her face.

"What's wrong now?" her brother asked before squatting down and doing as Salina did, getting the same unpleasant sensation. After this, he rubbed his thumb and index finger together, feeling a mushy pulp of grass blades spread between them. Then he prodded the earth beneath to test its texture. Instead of feeling a sun-hardened layer of dry soil as he expected, his fingers sank into an icy-cold, sodden mass of mud up to their knuckles. Dom, taken by surprise, ventured no further and withdrew his hand, holding it up to the sunlight to examine what looked like a tarry stain upon his skin.

"Yuck! It looks like shit," he said. "Feels kinda gooey." It appeared to him that the grass had decomposed but had remained in position until disturbed, seemingly to wither and decay into this slimy pulp. In a number of places, there was evidence that something had been digging from above or possibly even pushing from below. He put his hand to his nose and sniffed, getting an unpleasant odour of putrefied vegetation mixed with something else he could not quite explain – something that reminded him of spoiled meat.

"Smells like shit, too," he added before wiping the remnants away onto an area of normal grass.

"Careful, it might be spilt chemicals, or something."

"Nah, looks like they had something covering it before," he began to explain, although he knew from past experience that the dead grass he had always seen from beneath upturned objects had always turned a yellowy straw colour rather than a dark grey one, let alone having what appeared to be quicksand beneath. "Perhaps a big pot or something stood here before and it just killed-off the grass below."

A feeling of revulsion suddenly swept over him, causing his stomach to tighten and his bowels to feel hot and loose. Then the same icy coldness that Salina experienced seemed to creep across his entire nervous system, making the sweat from the day's heat seem to freeze upon his skin. At one point he was sure he was going to vomit, but as he began to turn away to do this the sensation disappeared as suddenly as it arrived.

"I have such a bad feeling about all this, Dom." Her voice sounded as if it came from a small, frightened child. When Dom looked across at her, he could clearly see that her eyes appeared one point below terrified. "I just can't explain it to you, but I keep getting this strong feeling that something horrible has been going on here."

Dom stood up again, straightened and then stepped away. The sun's heat immediately began to warm the chill from his bones and he relished in the feeling. Salina quickly jumped to her own feet, also eager to be away from that mysterious patch of rotten grass.

"Well," she asked, this time with a stronger voice, "do you also feel something's not right?"

Dom did not want to mention his own unexplainable feeling of unease and the sudden nausea and revulsion he experienced for concern of reinforcing his sister's own fears. Instead, he displayed a false smile on his face and clapped her chummily on the shoulder. "Yes," he told her in his best cheery voice, "I think that uncle and aunt are getting more forgetful with their shopping and having horrible grass. Apart from that, I can't see there's anything wrong here, other than the fact that they are not here themselves."

Salina stood looking at him in silence as he began to walk back up the path towards the road, watching his shoulders tilt slightly from side to side upon each step. Another curious glance at the strange patch of grass sent her following behind her brother again. "Well, that's just the point," she continued. "They're not here but their car's here and the shopping bag's been left –"

"We've been through all this," Dom said with irritation returning to his voice. He stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. The false smile, although still there on his lips, was failing dismally. "One hour, Sal," he said. "I promise you. Let's give it one simple hour and I will come straight back and see if they've returned from the great yonder." He turned back round again and continued towards the road. Salina stopped and took one more look at the house that stood like an old, greying beast napping in the afternoon sun. Its many windows appeared to stare mockingly back at her like the numerous eyes of some repulsive bug. She let out another shiver before hurrying after her brother, the shopping bag slapping furiously at her leg.

### Chapter 4 – Patch of darkness

Dom did venture back alone later that afternoon, about two and a half hours after rejoining the others in the trailer. On their return from the house, Salina kept threatening to go and 'check again' about every ten minutes, driving her brother and friends insane with her persistent and unnecessary worrying. He had also noticed how strange she had been behaving since first arriving at the trailer, how jittery or subdued at times when he expected her to be high with excitement. He put it to the fact that the happy memories of mum and dad were probably still there within her head, haunting her from every corner and behind every door like nostalgic ghosts.

But it was Dave Watson's unsolicited theory for their disappearance that sent her over the edge enough for her to try to call the number of the local hospital – her plan thwarted only by the fact that she still could not get a signal on any phone.

"If you don't mind me saying," Dave had said from one of the benches at the breakfast table, "I think that one of them has been rushed to hospital." His sat slightly forward with his legs crossed and his opened newspaper half on the table and half on his lap. He looked directly at Salina with bespectacled eyes that reflected the light of the sun, giving the illusion that she was staring directly into two mesmerising orbs of fire.

"Oh, come off it, Dave," Casey told him sharply, turning to face him with her hands planted firmly upon her hips – her classic 'no-nonsense' stance.

"How come?" Salina persisted, wanting to hear what he had to say. A little flutter in her stomach slowly rose to her throat and seemed to lodge itself there.

"I mean: the fact that the place was locked up meant they had been away – to the shops by the presence of the bag. Or maybe he... _or_ _she_ locked-up the house again after calling an ambulance."

The trailer became so silent while the other five began to listen intently to Dave's hypothesis that each person's breath sounded like a chorus of wordless whispers.

"Go on," she sighed.

"I think that as they got out of the car one of them fell suddenly ill and the other called an ambulance on their land line." Dave now sat bolt upright, firstly folding his newspaper and then his arms, looking like he was relishing in his new captive audience. "The ambulance came," he continued, "and they both went along to the hospital. They forgot the bag due to the circumstances and left it where it was. And the fact that they both had a ride in the ambulance would explain why their car is still in the drive." He finished his statement with a short, decisive nod.

"What a total load of fucking crap!" Doug bellowed out, punctuating his remark with bouts of laughter. Watson gave him a sharp, reproachful look but otherwise appeared to be unaffected.

Salina's mind was crying out for some kind of explanation and Dave's theory, although unwelcome and almost completely improbable, began to fill some empty void. Dom continued to stand silently in the corner by the door, seemingly distancing himself from the conversation.

"Don't listen to him, Sal," Casey said before swiftly turning to Dave. Her face changed to a portrait of fury when their eyes met. "Why you doing this to her? Stop winding her up!"

"And they couldn't contact you to let you know because there's no signal on your phones," Dave quickly finished before Casey could prevent any more of his theoretical explication. A tiny but definite smile raised one corner of his mouth as though in self-satisfaction for his contributions.

"Hold on a minute," Casey had said in a raised, commanding voice. "Enough of this bullshit." She pressed both hands gently but firmly onto her friend's shoulders and forced her to sit down onto the seat at the front of the trailer. Salina looked up at her with dumbstruck eyes and resigned to being silent.

"First of all, I know Dave is talking crap," Casey continued, not seeing the look on Watson's face at her remark. "Did you not see the sign on the roadside that said 'country fair' – a local fair, if I wasn't mistaken? And one that's only within walking distance?"

The look in Salina's eyes changed from a vacant blankness to one of waking acknowledgement. She turned her head in Dom's direction where he gave her an encouraging confirmatory nod.

"So," Casey continued, "I can bet you my bottom dollar that they're still there now, filling themselves with homemade pies and sampling the local brew – probably another reason why they didn't take the car."

Salina finally smiled, although only slightly at first, but even the smallest upwards movement of her lips brightened her entire face. "You know, that thought never even crossed my mind." Her eyes brightened and her smile broadened, but then her face suddenly dropped as another negative thought came to mind. "But what about the shopping bag? Why did they leave it lying in the full sun?"

"Well..." Casey began, trying to think quickly as not to let Salina slip back to her state of worry. "I think they must have left it there intentionally... that they wanted to leave you some essential items for you when you came round to see them, not knowing they were away – you know how thoughtful uncles and aunties can be. The bag is definitely for you two because those cookies could only be for Dom, right?"

Salina pulled a glum looking face. "Yeah, okay, but why didn't he put it inside the caravan for us before we arrived? Put the milk in the fridge?"

Casey looked around at the others for support, but they merely sat or slouched against things, looking at her blankly.

"Your uncle mailed you the key because he believed we were arriving in the early hours, is that right? Does your uncle own a spare for the caravan?" she looked firstly at Salina and then at Dom. They both shrugged their shoulders and said nothing. "I reckon he mailed you the only key and perhaps forgot to get a spare one made – you know how old people get!"

Salina started to speak again then jumped as the trailer's door banged open as Dave stepped out into the sunlight to have another cigarette, his interest in this so-called mystery now over. "Well, maybe, but I'm sure they would've left us a note to tell us about the bag before they went out for the day," she said.

"Just as sure that one of them would have left a note if the other was rushed to hospital?"

Salina shrugged again but was looking more at ease now.

Casey smiled with relief. "Darling, if they're not back by sundown I'll go looking for them myself, I promise."

While his sister was preoccupied with her rekindled happiness, Dom took the opportunity to sneak off on his own at a little after seven in the evening and return to his uncle's house. Their absence also unexplainably bugged at him, and in his silent, secret way, his concern for his missing relatives was stronger than Salina's. He totally dismissed Dave's theory of their disappearance and favoured Casey's one more – uncle and aunt were always partial to booze and homemade food. But it was that damn shopping bag that bugged him. Were they now getting to that 'forgetful stage' in their old age?

"They've got more than one key to the caravan, I know...," he mumbled as his feet shuffled away from the road towards the large house again.

But what about that weird patch of grass? It was just a stupid little thing, but somehow it had affected both he and his sister as though they had somehow picked up on some bad vibes. Later, on his return to the trailer, he was relieved of the task of reporting to Salina that they were still not back due to the fact she was too stoned and drunk to remember her own name. But during this second visit to the house it was what he saw or thought he saw which unnerved him the most. And much later, when he was able enough to think back through his constant, physical pain, he considered this the moment when the nightmare really began.

The place felt even more deserted and unnaturally empty than before, and the feeling that something was lurking just beyond the growing darkness of the evening's shadows was becoming stronger after each minute spent around the silent house. Dusk would not begin to fall until at least another hour and a half on this summer's night, but in this open area enclosed only by the distant slopes of the moors, Dom had the sensation that night had already secured its creeping tendrils and prematurely begun its slow swelling of darkness.

A necessary visit to the nearest neighbour's house gave him some kind of reassurance that they were okay even though they were also not at home. Old Mrs. Tucker and her middle-aged son, Kevin, almost always accompanied his uncle and aunt on days out.

Things never seemed to change much around these parts, Dom thought as he turned away from the large front door with its peeling red paint. Five minutes later he was circling the house for the second time like some lonely ghost on its nightly haunt, asking himself why he was wasting his time searching for two people who were obviously not there. The sensation that he was not alone became more distinct, although it was not a feeling of being watched but rather of being followed. At one time, he felt that someone or _something_ was behind him, the next moment it was before him or right at his side.

On his first cycle of his uncle's property, he purposely avoided that mysterious blackened spot upon the grass, but on the second round, he felt involuntarily drawn to it, unable to pull his feet away in the opposite direction. Reluctantly he crept slowly but steadily towards it, not wanting to see but feeling helpless to resist like some curious spectator at the scene of a grisly road accident.

At first, as he drew closer to the dark patch of grass, he blamed his imagination on the way it appeared to have shrunk. When Dom stood above the blackened circle, he purposely kept his feet well away and had to crane his head to look down upon it, adopting the stance of one who stood before a deep gaping hole in the earth. It soon became apparent that it was not an illusion but a fact: it was less than half the size as before and much darker than when he and Salina had first curiously investigated. Now about twelve inches in diameter, it merely looked like a circle of spilt black paint. But the evidence of its previous size was apparent. The withered grass surrounding its perimeter had changed from dark grey to the pallid colour of straw – the colour of dead grass. It was as if the invading darkness had withdrawn from its cells and drained it of its life giving fluids – like a vampire drinking the blood of its victim – and leaving a dry shell behind.

"What the fuck is this all about?" he asked the empty garden which continued to remain silent and still around him. Not even a light breeze whispered at the day's senior hours. It was as if everything here were also dead.

Dom began to reach out a hand and bend forward, knowing that the grass would feel the same as before, knowing that it would crumble beneath his fingers like decaying foliage. Then that strange foreboding feeling suddenly returned – had intensified – and he snapped his hand away like a man retreating from a biting dog. That strange, sickly smell of rotten meat and vegetation returned to his nose – seemingly stronger than before – and he gagged but did not turn away.

He could not explain why, but his senses were screaming at him that something was dangerous about this strange dark spot, that he should leave immediately: run away and never return. But at first, he could not. Like a rodent hypnotised by a deadly snake's stare, he continued to stand above the dead patch of grass, poised like the snake's hapless victim too terrified to move. Later that night, as he tried to sleep, his mind would try to convince him that what he saw next was just an illusion created by his spooked imagination and the combination of the failing light and growing shadows. He did not want to admit to himself that just beneath the surface of this mysteriously shrinking black circle of grass the earth was shifting as though something large was trying to push its way out into the open air. He did not want to admit that just before he was forced to turn away to vomit, doubled over as his abdomen violently and painfully contracted to expel the contents of his stomach onto the normal grass by his feet, he saw the earth break as whatever was just below the thin crust of earth became free. Even as his eyes clamped shut as the convulsions started, he could still see the putrid soil split open as something unimaginable crawled out...

Dom coaxed enough strength to run. Although his stomach was still dry retching, he desperately needed to be as far away from this repulsive patch of blackened, rotted earth as possible. His feet splayed wildly as though independent of his body as he stumbled like a drunk towards the road. He could physically feel the revulsion draining away from his body like poison escaping from one's veins on every cumbersome step he made. Finally, he stopped at the grass verge by the roadside, unable to continue through the cramping of his stomach and the lack of blood to his head. The short sprint had turned his legs to jelly and his lungs to fire, but he was more than relieved to be away from whatever it was that was breaking free from the ground, although he could not quite believe what his eyes had relayed to his rational thinking mind just seconds before.

Dom more collapsed than leant against a low, wooden fence that divided his uncle's property from the road. He slumped forward over the horizontal beam with his arms supporting his weight and his chin tucked to his chest, gaining as much composure as possible. It was at least ten minutes before he was able to stand up straight again. The cramping of his stomach had subsided but it left behind a dull ache in his abdomen. The feeling of nausea had also gone, but the acidic taste of vomit remained. Dom's temples pulsated loudly in his head with each beat of his heart as the beginnings of a headache began to burrow its way into his brain like a parasitical barbed worm. But at least he was away from that black stain on the earth.

All he wanted at this moment was to be with his sister and friends, lazing in comfort with an ice cold bottle of beer, laughing and joking as drunks and stone-heads do. He did not want to be alone any longer out here, alone with the failing light, the dead quietness, and the deepening patches of shadows. Did not want to be alone with whatever was digging its way out from...

Dom knew he should not have turned his eyes back to that patch of grass. He should have just straightened himself up, shaken all sinister thoughts from his head, put one foot in front of the other and got the fuck out of his uncle's front garden. But no. He turned round once more and looked again for that black stain, his eyes curiously but nervously searching the lawn until he found it, telling himself that all would be okay from this distance, already doubting what he saw was for real.

"Maybe a mole or something," he muttered, nodding reassuringly to himself as he squinted in the dying light. Maybe just a big bug or a large worm coming up to the surface and you just went and freaked out like some chicken-shit child scared of monsters...

Something caught Dom's eye again. He was just about to finally turn away and march back to the trailer when a movement from that same dreaded black mark caused him to stop dead once more and stare in disbelief at what he was seeing. This time he tried to deny on the spot what he was witnessing, but his eyes, even in the fading light, saw with perfect clarity. Surely I didn't see...

Surely he did not see something that looked like a hand – a hand not quite human – reach out of the ground. Surely he did not see five bone-white, gnarled talons stretch open and clasp shut again like some tropical flytrap. Surely he did not see it test the earth with its probing, twig-like fingers before slipping back into the depths of that slimy, dark patch of earth as though it was a gaping pit.

But it was over in a few seconds. Yes, he could have just imagined it – a trick of the light. Things like that simply do not happen in reality. _Do they?_

Dom did not stay to find out any more about it. He turned and bolted back to the trailer as fast as his shaky legs could run.

### Chapter 5 – Naked games

Dom was more than thankful that his sister and friends were drunk enough to not notice how pallid and shaken he must have appeared. When he slung open the trailer's only outer door he was welcomed by copious laughter, loud dance music, which blurted from Casey's portable CD player, and a mixed aroma of fried sausages, beer and ganja. His stomach immediately began to rumble, but the feeling brought on another stab of pain in his abdomen. Just the thought of eating anything at this moment made the nausea return.

As he stepped inside, all eyes turned to watch him – some questioning, some concerned, and some with no interest at all. Most surprisingly, his sister owned one of the pair of eyes that gazed nonchalantly back at him. In fact, her eyelids were barely open enough for her to look out from. Dom was just relieved to be back inside this cosy casing of wood and metal, back inside this little happy memory-box filled with the many good times he had spent with his complete family.

"Welcome back," Doug called to him, a cigarette dancing between his lips as he spoke. "The great wanderer returns."

Dom closed the door behind him and slumped down next to Dave on one of the row of seats that sandwiched the breakfast table. The only person that sat away from the others on the seats at the front of the trailer was Phoebe. She was just sitting upright and as still as a waxwork replica, gawping at everyone with glazy eyes as they drank, smoked and played cards. A slight smile froze on her lips, and to Dom she indeed looked remarkably like one of those shop window mannequins. He came to the immediate conclusion that she was almost but not quite as stoned as his sister.

"Christ, it didn't take you lot long to get smashed," Dom told those sober enough to hear him. "Was only gone about half an hour."

"And the rest," Doug bellowed over the noise of the music, never lifting his head from his hand of cards.

Dom looked across the table at his friend and frowned. "Why, how long was I gone for?"

Doug drew on his cigarette and exhaled before answering, still never looking up from the fan of playing cards in his left hand. By the collection of coins on the table, he could see that they were playing five-card poker, and he reckoned without a doubt – if everyone could stay sober enough – that it would soon transform into strip poker. "Well over an hour... maybe hour and a half."

"About what?" Dom looked at him with disbelief. He started to fumble awkwardly for his phone in his jeans pocket to see what time it was.

"I said about... Someone turn that fucking music down!" Dave reacted to his command by reaching out behind his bench and switching the player completely off. The silence was so sudden that their ears began to ring.

"So how are they?" Doug continued, this time managing to tear his eyes away from his hand of cards. "Obviously they're home by the length of time you were gone."

"Told you they were ok, didn't I?" Casey said with a tone of sarcasm, throwing a scornful glance at Dave by her side.

Dom looked from Doug to Casey and then to his sister who continued to slouch on the seat opposite in a way that only drunks and stone-heads would slouch. She looked so vacant that he could almost believe she was a life-sized doll stuffed with newspaper. Only an occasional blink and the shallow movement of her chest gave any indication that she was actually alive. Maybe he could sit her and Phoebe together and open his own waxwork museum.

"Well..." He started to explain then stopped to clear his throat. A vile taste of vomit and dry saliva filled his mouth again and he winced. "They're still not home yet." His eyes darted back to his sister again, afraid that his words would cause another panic, but her features remained as unemotional as before.

"Still not _back_?" Casey exclaimed, and from the corner of his eyes, Dom could see Dave giving her his 'told-you-so' look. "Do you think they're still out and about?"

"I..." Dom began, but did not know how to continue. His eyes began to wander aimlessly across the interior of the trailer, passing across every nook and cranny, each cheap ornament, each scratch and dent. It seemed he could tell a thousand stories from the collected memorabilia, but this night his mind could only fixate on one single image. His eyes finally settled upon the large window at the far end where Phoebe sat, staring with unconcerned interest back at him. But Dom did not see Phoebe; did not see the glass behind where she sat. He did not even see the fading dusk light beyond and the lush summer colours of the distant fields and hills. All he could picture in his mind was a small, dark patch of earth. Firstly, it appears to be still like a photograph, but suddenly the turf starts to crack and crumble as something beneath its thin crust begins to shift. Then the image comes to life like a movie. The earth splits open and fingers that looked like gnarled twigs erupt into the open, crawling from the earthy rent like a spider from its trap. Dom's eyes widen at the image of those talons grasping at the air, yearning for something – anything – to drag down into the ground with it...

"Dom?"

"Sorry," he replied in a small, bewildered voice and turned his head to face Casey, blinking wildly in an attempt to clear his head.

"So?" Doug asked with just a hint of impatience in his voice. "Where did you go? What did you do?"

Dom looked back at his friend again who sat studying him with intelligent blue eyes, a cigarette stuck between lips, strands of lightly curled blonde hair falling across his face, biceps stretching his white, slightly sweat-stained tee shirt. To Dom, he appeared to be the stereotypical image of a surfer.

"I just knocked on a few doors, that's all," he finally replied, satisfied with how natural and calm his voice sounded. "See if anyone knew where they were."

"And what did they say?" Casey prompted after he fell silent again.

Dom did not quite know how to reply. He realized he had bent the truth a little by suggesting that he had knocked on more than one neighbouring door, but he comforted himself with the fact that he was positive that if he _had_ tried a few other doors, he would have had the same result. The big village fair was in town – roll-up, roll-up! Get your homemade pies and cider by the barrel!

"They were also out," he finally answered and turned to Casey. "It seems the entire village is out at that country fair you said."

"Well, fuck me," Dave suddenly blurted with his usual sarcasm, "let's all fuck off to this country fair, then. Obviously they're having a better time than us!"

Salina suddenly sat bolt upright and her eyes became wide, turning her head to face her friends so quickly that it appeared as if somebody prodded her with a hot poker. Everyone at the table, Dom especially, had believed she had woken from a terrible nightmare. Salina's wide, disorientated eyes slowly relaxed as she recognized her surroundings. A large warm smile then transformed her previous dopey expression into one like a child's on Christmas day. What she said next made her brother's cheeks glow red with embarrassment. "So when are we gonna play strip poker, you boring bastards? I'm dying to give my tits an airing!"

Salina soon got her wish. After their game of strip poker and many more bottles of beer later, various strewn items of clothing became collected around the table. Dom, given no option to opt out, had managed only to lose his socks and his shoes by the fact that he was just a notch below sober. Dave got his wish in seeing Phoebe's breasts and 'cute' buttocks after her useless card playing abilities. Her original quiet and moody character had now transformed into that of a wild, fun loving teenager without a care ( _or a stitch on)_ in the world. Dave was hoping that her continual drinking would take her beyond and make this a night to remember if he played more than his cards right. Doug was now naked except for his socks, as he insisted that he removed his underpants before. Casey sat in her bra and panties while Salina sat in the opposite corner as naked as the day she was born, casually smoking another cigarette.

Not long after, there were naked bodies everywhere. Dom was the only one who remained clothed with only his socks amongst the pile of garments that had grown steadily upon the floor. He watched as his naked friends ran in and out of the trailer, wrestling each other to the ground and making crude and suggestive actions. Dave ran up and down the trailer, shouting at the top of his voice "I wanna go skinny dipping, I wanna go skinny dipping!" as Doug ran after him with a rolled-up magazine in one hand trying to swat him like a fly yelling: "you are certainly skinny enough!" They used their phone cameras on each drunken lark, and Dom hoped to God that his Uncle Dick would not use this moment to say his 'hellos'. Just the thought of his elderly, respectable relative turning up at the doorstep of his trailer to see his young niece running around butt naked with four other equally exposed people would be enough to make them both die on the spot.

The night turned humid, and without a hint of a breeze, the lack of clothing seemed to be more of a necessity than an option. The night's blackness here seemed absolute; the natural quality of virgin darkness was unspoiled and untainted by street lamps or headlights or glitzy bar displays. The moon was not yet a full sphere of silver above the peaks of the moors, and the stars, although vividly and gloriously displayed within the heavens, had no influence upon the velvet blackness. Beyond their frolicking screams and laughter, the air was as still and silent as a grave. There was no sight or sound of nocturnal wildlife within the seemingly endless spread of the fields and humps of the hills. As Dom stood in the doorway watching his friends running, dancing and laughing outside like innocent children with their long shadows born by the light of the trailer mimicking their movements like lonely ghosts, he had the sensation that he was standing in a giant bubble of light surrounded by infinite, impenetrable darkness.

"Look at this!" Doug's voice echoed through the night. "They're screwing! Phoebe and Dave are actually screwing each other!"

Dom removed the cigarette from his mouth and peered round the trailer's doorway. White, ghostly shapes danced in and out of the darkness beyond the trailer's shafts of light. One of them, who he recognized as his sister, slipped from his view as she ran across to the other side, naked except for the shoes on her feet. Casey's equally bare buttocks danced gracefully as she followed in the same direction, her new heart-shaped tattoo bouncing up and down with each movement. There was a short moment of silence before a huge cackle of laughter erupted from the other side of the trailer.

Dom was tempted to peep through the opposite window to get a glimpse of the big spectacle but decided it wise not to bother. The thought of seeing Dave's hairy butt in the air with his sister's naked form leering over and taunting them changed his mind very rapidly. His eyelids suddenly felt heavy and his legs ached. Now this day's long adventures and drinking was seriously kicking his ass. There was nothing he wanted more than to lie down upon the bottom bunk and close his eyes. What time was it now? Two or three in the morning?

Loud, shrill laughter pierced the air once more and Dom threw the butt of his cigarette out of the doorway and watched it spark in the darkness beyond the concrete blocks that made the steps. He was feeling a little edgy now. With the night as still as this sound could travel for miles, and his aunt and uncle, who were light sleepers at the best of times (and hopefully home and in bed by now, praise god), could be easily awakened by their drunken frolicking. Worst of all, another unsuspecting or disgruntled neighbour may investigate or get the law to do it.

The sound of light footsteps upon grass came to his ears as Doug, Casey and Salina returned to his field of vision. They stopped just outside of the doorway and huddled close together, tittering and whispering to each other. Salina started her loud and penetrating laugh again, and just as Dom was on the verge of shouting that enough was enough and that they should calm it down before they woke the whole goddamn village, Phoebe's naked form entered the trailer. She slid casually past him as though this was an everyday event, flashed him a smile that was somewhere between wicked and lustful, and strolled off to the bathroom. Dom turned his head to see the back end of her slim but curvaceous body, her skin wet with sweat and lightly grass-stained, before she disappeared behind the bathroom door. It clicked shut and he returned his attention to the others who by now had dispersed in many directions and were no more than banshee cries in the darkness. His brain felt as though it was swimming within his skull so he slumped down onto one of the breakfast table seats before his knees could collapse from under him. His concern for the other's waking his uncle or his neighbours was now a minor problem in the far reaches of his mind. His eyelids were telling him with no subtlety that it was late, he was tired, and he should be horizontal by now. It was time for one more cigarette before bed, although it was one more cigarette he did not really want.

Sudden thumping of feet startled Dom enough to snap his eyes open in time to see more naked bodies enter the trailer. Doug, Casey and Dave were still laughing, but the long day's consumption of alcohol and marijuana also seemed to present itself upon their faces. Casey and Doug made their way straight to the main bedroom while Dave began to wander about the trailer mumbling to himself, picking out items of his clothes amongst the others, holding garments up to his drowsy eyes and discarding the ones that did not belong to him in a fashion that was far from tactful.

"Dom?" Salina's small voice came from the darkness like a bodiless spirit. Dom craned his head but could still not see her. "Dom, are you there?"

"Yeah," he replied flatly. "whaddoya want?"

"Pass me a towel, will you?"

"Phoebe's in the bathroom still," he mumbled.

"Oh... well get me a blanket from the bedroom, then," she said with her voice rising slightly with impatience. "Please?"

Dom could now see her head peering from one edge of the open door; her wide eyes made her look as helpless and vulnerable as she must now feel. He felt no sympathy for his younger sister at this moment, only irritation.

"Why can't you go get one yourself?" he asked as he lit a cigarette and drew deeply.

"No," her small, almost pathetic voice returned. "I just... can't. I'm naked."

"Fuck me, Salina," Dave shouted from the front seats of the trailer where he sat wearing only his underpants and one sock. He was also smoking. "You were running around with all to see and doing cart-wheels with your legs open five minutes before and now you can't even walk inside without a fuckin' towel!"

Dom glanced over at Dave with some amusement before turning back to his sister's ghostly face in the darkness.

"Please, Dom," she pleaded once more, ignoring her friend's remark. "I just feel kinda funny about it with you sitting there, you know?"

With a sigh, Dom stubbed out his barely smoked cigarette and entered the smaller bedroom. A moment later, he appeared at the doorway with a blanket in his hands.

"Here," he simply said and threw it at his sister. She caught it and pressed it immediately to her breasts.

"Thanks, bro," she told him with a guilty smile.

Dom managed to return a weak smile and nodded. "I'm off to bed now. I suggest you all do the same." He then turned away and re-entered their bedroom.

"I still get the top bunk, remember?" she called after him as she took a step onto the concrete blocks, their roughness a contrast from the smooth softness of the grass. She stopped in mid-stride to wrap the blanket around her body, poised with one foot on the first step and one upon the grass. Her large, black shadow cast by the trailer's light stretched like seeping oil across the ground below. After she was satisfied that her nakedness was concealed, Salina continued up the steps and inside. Her trailing shadow grew smaller and smaller until being quenched completely when she slammed the door shut behind her.

But a large patch of darkness remained upon the grass where her foot was standing only seconds before – a darkness that began to spread like a growing stain. And if Dom and Salina had smelled that greying patch of turf, they would have both agreed that it stank like rotten vegetation and spoilt meat.

### Chapter 6 – A night of disturbances

Dave Watson lay awake for a long time that night wondering what he had done wrong and why he did not understand women. He knew that every man on this planet could never fully understand the workings of a woman's mind, as he believed vice versa, but this type of thing kept happening to him time and time again.

Light snoring that was just above the volume of a whisper rose into the darkness from where she lay across the left side seat, her feet inches away from his. It had taken her only minutes to fall asleep after he had crept back to his part of the seating, feeling like a disgraced dog with its tail tucked beneath its body. He noted that his recoiling balls felt like two small nuts tightly coated in shrink-wrap.

About twenty minutes after they had all slumped gladly into their beds, Dave lay listening to Doug and Casey's noisy love-making. The bed that they shared within the master bedroom squeaked and lightly banged against the far wall of the trailer in time to Doug's pelvic thrusts which quickened in pace towards their climatic end. Casey's orgasmic scream was stifled somehow, maybe by biting the pillow or by Doug's own hand upon her mouth – an image that brought a wide grin upon Dave's face as he listened. After the noise died away and silence befell the trailer once again, Dave lifted his head from the cushion and strained his eyes in the dark to see if Phoebe was also awake.

He wanted to go to her. He lay there thinking of how her naked body had felt beneath his own. They were only playing when they first began chasing each other around the field, his touch upon her flesh becoming firmer and more daring on each contact. He remembered her laughing as she ran, trying to zigzag across the field in an attempt to hinder his progress. But it was to no avail. Dave leapt like a pouncing leopard and brought her to the ground, managing in some way to swing her gently round so that she fell upon his body rather than the sun-hardened ground. Their uncontrollable laughter soon transformed into uncontrollable kissing. Then into lovemaking. Even the amused taunting of his friends when they became an involuntary sex act did not dampen the passion that he felt when their bodies entwined.

Dave had sat upright in his bed with his heart beating hard and his penis wilting slightly with the mixed emotions of excitement and nervousness. He could just make out her shapeless form on the seat adjacent to his own. When he had decided that he would go to her, it took him another five minutes before putting one foot onto the carpeted surface of the floor and another three before he finally stepped the short distance to her side. After crouching down where he guessed her head to be, Dave reached out and touched her before his nerve would go, firstly finding the material of her tee shirt and then her smooth skin. He waited for her reaction, waited for her caressing touch and sweet words of how she had been waiting for his return...

"Fuck off, Dave. Leave it out!"

He recoiled as though she had suddenly become a rattlesnake, although the few words she spoke seemed to contain enough venom to kill a dozen men. A thousand questions poised in readiness in a queue upon his lips – what's the matter with you? What have I done wrong? Don't you like me no more? Did you even like me at all? Instead, he simply turned away in silence and crept back to his side of the couch, his penis shrunken and his balls collected tightly to his body like two small and frightened creatures longing for protection. He slumped back down across the hard seat, the damp patch of his sweat cooling him and faced the cushioned backrest. His bare feet brushed against hers and he quickly withdrew them as though she had suddenly become poisonous to touch. To Dave, she might as well be.

Now he simply waited for the first glimpse of dawn's light. At what time would that be, he wondered. Five o'clock? Half five? What time was it now? It could be no more than three in the morning. He would get up, roll himself a cigarette and sit outside the door on the top step so he could watch the lush reds and gold of the new day's sunrise.

Then a sudden noise from outside made all thoughts blink immediately from Dave's mind. It sounded like the most desperate, lonely cry he had ever heard and hopefully never to hear again in his life. It was like a cry from beyond the grave – a sound that was the embodiment of loss and fear. A chill immediately discharged across his back and he sat bolt upright with ears trained in the direction from where it came. Was that some kind of animal? A dog, perhaps? There was only silence again other than the audible thumping of his heart in his temples and Phoebe's persistent light snoring.

He continued to listen intently for what seemed like half an hour, waiting for that ghostly cry of distress to return. Gradually Dave relaxed back down onto his back and lay staring into the darkness once again, his mind now distracted and somewhat disturbed by this alien noise from the beyond.

"Fucking great," he seethed between clenched teeth, "now I'm gonna be kept awake by ghostly noises!" He turned onto his side and waited for dawn.

Only two minutes later, Dave was asleep.

Dom also lay awake upon his ageing, worn mattress whose springs have now developed differing tensions from one another. With the added combination of the humidity, the occasional loud grunt and snoring from the bunk above his head and his active mind churning out thought after thought, the possibility of sleep was just a hopeful wish.

Salina, clad in only a pair of panties, must have fallen asleep the instant her head hit the pillow by the way her right leg protruded from the side of the top bunk and the awkward, twisted angle her body lay across the mattress. To Dom, it looked as though she had climbed the short wooden ladder and immediately collapsed unconscious in a heap upon contact with the bed. He had stood upon the bottom rung and managed to straighten her body to what appeared to be a more natural and comfortable position. A number of short groans and facial twitches were the only indications that she was still in the land of the living.

Not long after he switched off the light and let his weary body slump down upon the once-comfortable mattress, Doug and Casey began their nocturnal activities. Dom sighed and resigned himself to a long night of noisy lovemaking from the neighbouring bedroom, but this time it was mercifully short.

But the memory of that weird patch of earth remained in his mind the way a bad stench would linger in a small room. Every time he was on the brink of drifting into sleep the image of the fingers breaking through the soil snapped him back into wide-eyed alertness. Counting sheep, meditation, nice pleasant thoughts... none of these tricks could help him drift down the river of serenity and into the great ocean of sleep. Tonight, it seems, Dom's boat was fully grounded.

Fumbling blindly in the dark, Dom searched for his phone to see what ridiculous hour it was. The screen was totally blank and showed no sign of response even after having every button pressed at least three times. After a sigh of frustration he cursed his phone and dropped it carelessly onto the floor, wincing as its impact created a sound that seemed five times as loud as it should be. But Salina continued to sleep deeply in the bunk above, her breathing now coming in short but regular snores.

Then a haunting sound came to his ears and he cocked his head towards the opened window from where the sound came from. It sounded like a desperate, fearful cry of a dog.

He waited for the noise to return. It never did. He slumped back down upon the mattress and hoped that sleep would mercifully sweep him away. With the nagging worry of his missing aunt and uncle on top of the memory of that damn black patch of grass, he believed that hope was all he had.

Finally, just as the sun began to rise above the peaks of the hills in the east, and not long before his sister woke from a terrible nightmare, Dom fell into his own dream-filled sleep.

Salina was on the moors. The trailer sat snugly in the distance with a single eye of light escaping from one of the bedroom windows, projecting a ray upon the field where it nobly stood. This light was far too strong and unnaturally vivid. Up in the heavens the moon, also unnaturally bright, shone down upon the bleak fields, illuminating her surroundings with a strange brilliance. Giant shadows weaved in uncertain patterns across the tall grass and crept silently like black tendrils from bland, twisted trees, threatening to blot out the distant hills and surrounding moors like a dark robe.

Salina was naked again. The light breeze gently felt her smooth flesh as she stood alone before gliding swiftly past like a phantom bird. The air was fresh and sweet and revitalizing. Lifting her head up to the clean, star-rich sky she drew in a deep lungful of this air, filling every minuscule tube and cavity within her chest, inviting the air to stay for as long as possible before expelling it back into the light wind to be taken like a small ripple of a passing wave.

She realized for the first time that there was complete silence as though she was standing within a vacuum. Not even the smooth, caressing breeze created a sound as it passed across the shadow painted moors and into the beyond.

The awareness of her nakedness made her feel not exposed and vulnerable as she would have expected but fresh and virginal – new born.

How did I get out here? Am I dreaming? Her thoughts came and went just as the breeze came and went. She was all alone in her private ray of silver moonlight, standing like a starlet under the world's largest stage light with the dark shapes of the trees and distant hills as her audience, the caressing breeze her orchestra and the passing shadows her dancers.

Slowly moving as one would within deep water, Salina turned her head, her eyes being drawn again to the other strong light across the shadowy field that radiated from the bedroom which she shared with Dom. But the trailer now appeared too far away for comfort. At first it merely interfered with her feelings of trance-like elation, but it soon began to eat away at the strong emotions of peace and freedom, leaving behind an ugly feeling of concern and unease. The reason for her sudden change in mood she could not fathom, but her gut feelings told her that something dark and menacing had found her – that she was swimming in a sea of lurking sharks.

The sensation of coldness seeped through her skin for the first time and the awareness of her naked and exposed body began to irritate as though a thousand unwanted eyes were spying upon her flesh. She shivered, sending ice crystals sliding down her spine. Now she felt vulnerable, pathetic and small. Alone.

That distant, dark hulk of metal with the one gleaming eye continued to stare indifferently back as she stood frozen to the grassy earth. With dawning horror, Salina detected from the perimeter of her vision a deeper, darker shadow appearing from within this blackness like a spreading stain. It was somehow blacker than black, like the ocean's deepest caverns where light was just a mystery.

Her eyes dared to drop to the area just below where the light's vivid radiance created a semicircle upon the patchy grass. Here she witnessed the alien shadow growing, seeping across the earth like oil. It reached out for her and it reached out to where her friends and brother lie sleeping, creeping like a dark cancer. Salina felt her chest tighten and her bowels become hot. She wanted to move – just to run towards the safety of the trailer – but it was as if her feet were stuck ankle deep in mud. She opened her mouth instead and screamed her brother's name again and again, but all that came from her throat was a soundless gust of air.

Something else moved out there. A momentary flitter of light that caught Salina's eye was gone before her senses could react. She waited for another movement, knowing all too well that it was not in her imagination, aware there was something else out there. All the while, the darkness spread towards her feet, slipping like cold tar across her exposed flesh where it oozed between her toes and crept around her ankles.

The movement came again and this time she was ready. This time she saw it in its entirety. With wide and unflinching eyes, standing immobilized with fear as the black creeping shadow stained her flesh below, Salina helplessly watched as the thing finally emerged from the darkness of the night. It seemed to be humanoid but unnaturally wiry and twig-like – much too thin to be a human being. It slipped towards her with the swiftness of the wind, cutting momentarily through the trailer's light, casting its own absurd shadow. Just before it reached her, its talon-like fingers opening and spreading like a predator's jaw, Salina did the only thing she could do to ease her suffering. She tightly shut her eyes from the final moment and waited.

Salina Squires snapped open her eyes to find herself lying safely on the top bunk in the trailer's second bedroom. Her heart was pumping frantically in her chest and the sweat was running from her in rivulets. She was not sure if the nightmare had caused her to wake at this early hour of the morning or the light scratching at the window. At first she believed it to be the dying remnants of her dream – the fading echo of the weird, pouncing stick-man – but as her consciousness became more solid, she realized that the persistent scraping was something much more than her own mind's dark and twisted imaginings.

She dared to move her head in the direction of the window where the weak light of dawn was peeping through half opened curtains. The memory of the bad dream, still fresh in her mind, made her think of talon-like fingers made of sticks rapping at the glass, searching for a way inside. Propping herself up onto one elbow, her eyes searched but saw nothing but the pink tint of dawn's light from beyond the glass. The scratching sound continued, but its position seemed to have shifted to the roof. By now, Salina's mind was more than convinced that it was only some early bird scurrying around the trailer, the images of creeping shadows and pouncing stick-men already ridiculed by her own rational, waking judgment.

She turned round and relaxed back onto the pillow, staring up at the panelled ceiling with half opened eyes, listening to the light scurrying above and the shallow breathing of her brother below. A little later, the scratching sound faded and disappeared altogether, allowing Salina to drift off into a shallower, dreamless sleep.

Outside the sun's light grew gradually stronger, banishing the darkness and dispersing the many collected shadows as it rose above the tops of the hills. Inside the trailer, the six occupants slept on, soon to awaken again on the longest or shortest day of their lives.

### Chapter 7 – Pandemonium

It was at a reasonable hour for a Sunday morning when the six drowsy individuals rose from their place of rest at about the same time, stumbling around and grabbing items of clothing at random until they found something they recognized as their own. It was just past ten when Doug first emerged from the master bedroom clad only in his boxer shorts, his shoulder length blonde hair looking something like a windswept mop. He belched loudly and farted: the combination of the two acted like some biological alarm call that stirred the others almost immediately from their differing stages of sleep. Doug was somewhat surprised to find that Dave and Phoebe were sleeping at opposite ends of the back seats; their awkward positions and their bodily mannerisms suggested that the two were not as lovey-dovey as he and Casey suspected.

With a small smile of amusement and a single shake of his head, Doug popped open the fridge door just as Dom emerged sleepily but fully dressed from his bedroom and slumped down behind the breakfast table. He cradled his head in both of his hands, elbows upon the table's cluttered surface. "God, I feel rough," he muttered to anyone who would listen. "And I didn't even smoke or drink _that_ much!"

Casey's raised voice erupted from behind the closed bedroom door, moaning and cursing, her words a confused jumble to Doug's ears. "What's wrong, hon?" he asked.

"Damn... are all... gone? Fucking... is it?"

The bedroom door clicked open suddenly and crashed back against the panelled wall. Casey stood in the doorframe in just a pair of panties and a top that seemed two sizes too small. Her face appeared flushed and her tangled hair was in a worse state than her boyfriend's was. "I was asking where the rest of my fucking clothes are, apart from the ones thrown around here!" She gestured to the many items of garments strewn across the far end of the trailer and the breakfast area as she marched out of the bedroom. "Apart from the ones I was wearing yesterday, I can't for the love of God find my clothes!" Casey walked up to Doug and glared straight into his eyes, looking like somebody squaring up for a fight. "Where is the fucking suitcase? The one with our clothes in?"

Doug stood looking dumbly back at his girlfriend. At first, it seemed that he was simply not going to answer, but he eventually turned his head and peered out of the window at the Chrysler sitting silently in the sunlight. "Out there in the car, probably."

"Probably?" she returned, her lips creasing to a thin line.

Doug continued with his dumb expression. "Yeah... why, what's wrong?"

"I helped to take the last of the luggage off yesterday, that's what's fucking wrong," Casey snapped back, her head tilted at an angle as she continued to stare up at him.

Doug's expression of bafflement now had an almost comical quality. "What are you talking about, woman?"

Casey took a long and deep breath before answering. "Unless you've taken that unmistakably large suitcase with our clothes in and put it someplace else, the only luggage we have in our room back there are full of _your_ C.D's, beach wear, snorkelling crap, a bottle of bloody whisky... oh, and some useful packets of crisps!"

Doug's mouth fell open, making his dumb expression look even dumber. "But I put them all on," he told her as she turned away and headed back to the master bedroom. "But _you_ were meant to..."

"Don't try and blame it on me," she snapped without turning round. "You forgot it, didn't you? Left it behind!"

"But wait a minute..."

The smaller bedroom door swung open and the sleepy form of Salina slid slowly out, her bare feet slapping against the cool surface of the linoleum. She was dressed simply in a pair of faded blue jeans and a white tee shirt. Before she was even half way out of the bedroom, Doug was almost grabbing her and blurting questions into her face.

"Are there any suitcases in your room... one that's ours? Did you take any stuff off the car and put them anywhere?"

Salina just looked back at him as though he was someone from a different planet.

"Nothing in our room of yours, mate," Dom's toneless voice drifted from where he sat, his head bent over a motorbike magazine.

Doug then turned to where Dave and Phoebe continued to stand like awe-struck spectators at a coliseum. They both shook their heads simultaneously, a false look of pity on both of their faces suggesting that his missing suitcase with the important change of clothing was not happily sitting amongst their suitcases of clothing. By the way things looked now, Doug and Casey's luggage containing the shirts, blouses, pants, skirts, club wear and underclothing was still sitting happily back at home.

Doug summoned the courage to look back at his fiancé. Her face was still flushed with fury and her eyes were wider still. "But I was busy with the car," he managed in a pitiful voice before she turned her back on him again and entered the bedroom, slamming the door behind her hard enough to rattle the crockery.

"Oh, shit," Doug said as he turned and sat opposite Dom.

"Looks like somebody's going out to buy new clothes today," Phoebe said with amusement in her voice as she squatted before the old television perched upon a table in the lounge area. She switched it on and fiddled with the tuning knob. Static snow lit upon the once dormant screen, reflecting off her face that was twisting with concentration.

"Yeah, maybe I can buy some clothes in Torquay," Doug eventually mumbled after running his fingers through his clammy hair.

"Oh, yeah," Dave called from the lounge seats as he sat cleaning his glasses on the hem of his tee shirt. Today he wore shorts and his thin and hairy crossed legs reminded Doug of two twisted pipe cleaners. "You could buy her some water wings and a 'kiss-me-quick' hat. How very nice."

"They've got some good shops there, stupid," Doug growled back, his once bright mood severely tarnished.

"All right," he sneered. "Don't get all steroidal!"

"What's the matter with this stupid T.V?" Phoebe banged the television set with the palm of her hand in frustration after getting nothing but a continuous display of static dots for her effort. "How old is this thing, anyway? Doesn't anything work in this stupid place?"

A deep sigh escaped Dom's lips as he suddenly stood and headed for the doorway. "Why are you bothering with the fucking T.V when we have a lovely sunny day outside," he said as he slipped past his sister to push open the main door. Bright light instantly filled the kitchen area and the air, although already warm, enlivened the entire trailer with its morning freshness. He drew in large breaths and felt instant revitalisation. His eyelids, which were tightly squeezed-shut against the sudden glare of the sun, slowly opened to reveal the beautiful surrounding scenery.

"I'm not drinking or smoking that shit no more," Salina's voice announced from behind him.

"Yeah... me too," he agreed, but would have bet his life's savings that they will both be smoking cannabis and drinking alcohol again before the day was up. He stepped down the block steps to the grass below and stood in the full light of the sun, completely unaware of the blackened spot to his immediate right that had appeared below his sister's feet about eight hours earlier. Now it had diminished to the size of a coin and remained undetected within the scattered shadows. "Just wish everyone would cheer up a bit."

"God, I can feel a sunbathe coming on!" Doug's booming voice overpowered Salina's words. He was looking over her left shoulder and into the distant hills. "And I can feel a cooked breakfast coming on, too. A large one!"

It was at this point when Dom caught his first glimpse of the dog weaving in and out of the hedges by the roadside. He shielded his squinting eyes from the sun with one hand as he watched its quirky movements. Its head appeared to be darting back and forth while its tail wagged erratically from behind. It seemed, to Dom, to have adopted the demeanour of something being pursued. Eventually it moved gingerly towards the trailer, enabling him to get a clearer view of the animal. The black and white Border collie was sniffing at the grass before it in what appeared to be a cautious act rather than the usual exploratory performance associated with all dogs.

The animal suddenly stopped in its tracks, turned and then stared directly at him; its wide, dark eyes appeared haunted and wild. Dom understood by the way it made a further step in his direction that it wanted to come to him but somehow seemed mistrusting, scared or both. It lingered for a few more seconds before turning round and trotting back, slipping through a small gap in the hedge. Before it disappeared out of view Dom noticed the long, red leash attached via an equally red collar trailing across the grass behind it like a pursuing snake.

So where was its owner? Had it got lost somehow and was looking for its master? Now Dom remembered that tortured howling of a dog last night and hairs stood up on the nape of his neck. It must have been him, he thought as he took a few steps in the direction of the hedgerow. Then Doug's loud voice stopped him in his tracks.

"You coming with us, then, Dom? Your sis said there's a good little café not far from here, but wad-do-ya say about driving into town and finding something there?"

Doug was now standing at the foot of the steps. Salina had disappeared back into the trailer again, leaving the two alone outside. "Sounds good," he replied, but his voice seemed distant and detached.

When Doug spoke again, his tone became low and almost compassionate. "You want to go off again to your uncle's place, don't you?" He strolled from the steps to his side.

Dom only smiled at first, then nodded his head. He turned his eyes in the direction of the house and felt that odd sense of dread seep through the core of his bones once again. But why? The fact that uncle and aunt were not at home when they called or never dropped by the trailer the previous evening to say hello _was_ a reason to be concerned, but to feel horror at what could simply be an innocent misconception he could not explain... Unless, of course, you wanted to add the vision of a skeletal hand reaching from the earth into the equation. "I better go and check, yeah. Just to see where they'd been."

"Want us to wait for you?"

"No, you lot can go on ahead. I'll just wander down to my uncle's and check on them. They must be at home at this hour, so I can hopefully grab a bite to eat at their place."

Doug nodded his head. "Bet your sis will want to go along with you, don't you think?"

Dom looked back at the house again where he could see parts of its white walls and dark, slated roof through the gaps in the surrounding trees. It appeared deceivingly close, so close that he reckoned that he could almost hit it with a good-sized stone.

"I imagine she would demand to come with me," he told his friend as he turned and wandered towards the Chrysler.

Doug stood silently for a while, his eyes squinting in the morning's sunlight as he scanned the surrounding field. "Your uncle owns all this?"

"All the way up to that hedge way up there and across to the road." Dom referred to the latter part of his description by pointing to the hedgerow boundary by the roadside.

Doug whistled. "Boy, he must be worth a fortune!"

By this time, Dave had emerged from the depths of the trailer and stood halfway down the steps. He had donned a pair of sunglasses and was relishing in the sunlight whilst smoking one of his hand-rolled cigarettes. "Are we off, then?" he asked Doug, who was making his way slowly towards him.

"Seems like it," he replied and then stopped dead at the foot of the steps when his girlfriend appeared in the doorway above. She was now wearing a tight pair of shorts and the tee shirt that she wore yesterday. By the look on her face, she still bore a heavy grudge against him.

"You okay, babes?" he asked timidly.

"Suppose so," she told him after a moment of silence, her eyes purposely avoiding his own.

Doug shrugged his shoulders, not quite knowing what to say next. Finally, he coaxed enough courage to ask his next question, conscious of the fact that Dave was standing between them and listening with great interest. "Sorry I left your clothes a million miles away, babe. You forgive me?"

Casey kept with her pissed-off expression and her non eye contact for as long as she could before finally melting into a weak smile. "Maybe. Maybe if you buy me some new clothes... and a big breakfast."

"You bet!" he said without hesitation. "Tell the others to get in the car. If I don't eat soon, I'll die! So are you lot coming, or what?"

"Well let me go get my shoes and wallet first," Dave said as he hurried back up the steps.

Doug gave his girlfriend a wide, cheesy grin as he looked at her admiringly. "You sexy little minx."

Casey now broke out in a wide smile, the smile that wins his heart every time. "Jelly-belly," she called back. "Hey, if we're going out then put a top on first," she ordered before reaching inside the trailer for something. She then descended a step and threw him the set of keys to the Chrysler. "You won't get far without these. And make sure the bloody thing starts this time!" She turned and disappeared inside.

Doug smiled at Dom and rattled the keys in front of his face. "We'll see," he said and moved to the vehicle. He opened it and pushed the key into the ignition. "It better work after all the shit it gave us yesterday." He then turned the engine and it roared into life immediately. "There you go!" He wore a large grin of approval. "No worries."

"Was it the immobiliser you had trouble with?" Dom asked with his arms folded over his chest, peering into the driver's compartment as though something of real interest was inside. As Doug told him his theory of the problem that had consequently delayed their trip, none of them noticed the way the grass beneath their feet had turned black.

"I believe it was," Doug said after switching off the engine and stepping away from the Chrysler, leaving the driver's door fully open.

"But the problem just went away, didn't it?" Dom asked as he stepped back a little to allow his friend to pass, not realising this minor action had possibly saved his own life.

"Yeah... weird!" He sighed and paused on his way back to the trailer, his mind deep in thought. "I was about to call someone out to fix it when it... what the... Got my..."

Dom waited for the rest of the story but instead got a jumbled mixture of nonsensical words followed by a shocked look of utter surprise. He then followed his friend's eyes down to the ground where he realized with some kind of rising terror that one of Doug's feet had sunk ankle-deep into dark sludge that resembled that of the strange grassy patch at his uncle's house. "Doug?"

While they both looked on with dumbstruck bewilderment, something sucked – or rather _pulled_ – Doug's foot in by another six inches. He screamed and instinctively grabbed onto Dom's shoulder with his left hand, sinking his strong fingers painfully into his flesh while his other hand went straight to his lower leg, which had disappeared halfway into the ground. "What the fuck is that?" he managed between sharp yelps of pain. "Help me... help me get my fucking foot out!"

Dom fought off his friend's grasping fingers and dropped to one knee, grabbing his thick upper calf muscle with both hands, smelling that all too familiar stink of rotting meat and vegetation. As soon as he began to pull, his leg slid further into the sludge to about another two inches. The tar-like earth appeared to close in on its new captive, engulfing him like quicksand. Now Doug's yelps became louder and there was sheer panic in his words. "Get it off! Get it off me! GET IT...!"

By this time, Dave had curiously poked his head out of the trailer's doorway after hearing the screams. He stood looking at the two with a baffled expression, trying to determine if someone was genuinely in trouble. He could see Doug clasping his lower leg as if he had hurt it badly and Dom trying to help him in some way, but in the first confused seconds of his observation it looked to him like they were merely fooling around. "Are we going or are you two going to prat –" was all he managed to say before Dom's terrified voice cut above his own.

"Help us! For God's sake, help me get his leg out!"

Now Salina was peeping over Dave's shoulder at the commotion. "What's going on down there?" she asked. Watson, at first frozen in position with a mixture of confusion and suspicion that this was all a big hoax, slowly began to descend the steps.

"Dave," Salina called from behind with unease entering her voice, "what's wrong?"

"Don't know, my dear," he answered as his feet touched the grass. "Let me take a look..."

Doug's reddened face suddenly turned to face the curious pair and screamed at them to help, but it was the pure, unfeigned terror in his bulging eyes that got them immediately running to his aid.

"What is it?" Salina wailed. "Dom... Tell me what's wrong?"

There was another sudden wrench upon Doug's foot from below and his leg sank into the tight hole up to his kneecap, this time stripping the entire flesh and muscle from the bone. The skin folded like an accordion and bulged in a bloody mass around the bottom of his thigh. Now Doug was howling like a dog, throwing his head up to the sky and grasping his blonde hair in both hands as though he wanted to tear them from their roots. Salina screamed with him and stopped dead in her tracks, unable to comprehend what she had just witnessed. Dom and Dave instinctively stood back when they saw the skin tear off from their friend's leg, the shock of what had just happened not quite registering in their minds. Was there something else moving down there within that spreading dark stain? Something alive?

What could only have been a few seconds seemed an eternity as they all stood there like frozen spectators, watching as Doug pulled at his trapped leg with both hands that slipped in blood while pushing frantically with his other leg in his efforts to free himself. He now replaced his screaming with short, sharp bursts of breath as he struggled, his mouth agape, spittle drooling in rivulets. His reddened face then turned up to his terrified audience and he looked upon them with wide, pleading eyes. "Help me... please..." he managed in a hoarse, choked cry before the earth claimed the other half of his leg.

Casey had not even finished pulling up her shorts when she swung open the toilet door, her curiosity at the yelling and screaming rapidly turning into deep concern. She pushed aside Phoebe who was also making her way outside and leapt to the doorway in time to see her beloved boyfriend's right leg sink into the ground all the way up to the hip. At that moment, mainly because of the other three crowded around him, she did not see the way the entire meat from his upper leg suddenly yanked upwards from its anchoring sinew by the sheer force of whatever was pulling from beneath the earth itself. But it was a sickening, inhuman cry – a cry that could only have come from Doug – that got her running down the steps on legs that were already shaking.

"Baby?" she cried as she ran the short distance to where the small crowd gathered. "Baby, what's wrong?" She suddenly stopped in mid-stride when she saw the full extent of the horror before her. Everything she then witnessed in the ensuing few seconds appeared to happen in slow motion. Firstly, she saw Dom grasping Doug under his armpits in readiness to heave his heavy frame from what appeared to be a small ditch, his own screaming orders to his sister blotted from her mind by the shock and disbelief of what she was seeing. With his shift in position, Dom exposed the trapped portion of her boyfriend's body and the section of his upper leg, split into three segments and now lying like a cleaved marrow around him. Then Salina stepped between them briefly, momentarily but mercifully blocking her view of the mutilated flesh to aid in her brother's struggle to free their friend. Next, Doug's face turned up from the ground and looked directly into his fiancé's eyes with cognizance for the last time. Although his own eyes were almost bulging from their sockets with fear and agony, they told her that he knew what was going to come next – told her in their silent and modest language that he was going to die. He was simply saying 'goodbye'. Then Doug's body relaxed and became limp. His head flopped backwards, allowing his dying eyes to stare upon the cloudless blue of the sky above. A moment later, something dragged his lower body under with the same force as his leg. His pelvis and lower abdomen disappeared into that absurdly small, blackened area of earth, forcing his free leg to hinge upwards at an acute angle and fold against the side of his body as though he was attempting to kick himself in the head.

Now Casey screamed, although she was not aware she was doing so. Suddenly everything seemed to burst into life again, appearing this time to move at double speed instead of slow motion. Salina was holding her phone to her ear, screaming that she was calling for help. Dave was trying to help assist Dom in his futile attempt to free their friend, but for some reason, which she had no time to understand, Dom was fighting him off rather than allowing his help. Phoebe was yelling something from the top of the steps just before Salina screamed back: "there ain't no signal on my fucking phone" and "what the fuck should I do?"

Doug's face had now turned a deep shade of purple as the blood welled in his head by the pressure exerted upon his lower body and the restriction of his breath. It was as if a gigantic vice was slowly squeezing him to death. His mouth opened and closed one more time in a silent, weak attempt at a scream before he was hauled up to his ribcage by another strong yank from below the earth. What must have been part of Doug's stomach exploded from his mouth like an inflated balloon, swelling his neck to an absurd size and spraying thick blood and bile. Salina screamed and started to run while Dave jumped backwards with revulsion, almost knocking Casey from her unsteady feet. Dom screamed out his sister's name and left what remained of Doug's body behind to chase after her.

Casey found she could not scream again, even though she desperately needed to. What she did find was that she could continue forward, and she did so with slow, deliberate steps, feeling as though she was moving in a dream. Her hand reached out to Doug's face and brushed against his hot, blood-swollen cheek as his dead eyes stared vacantly ahead. Now the chaotic world had seemed to stop altogether and it was only her and Doug out here in the field – alone together. There were a thousand things she could have said to him, like how she cared for him, how she wanted so desperately to marry him, how she wanted children with him. How she loved him with all her heart.

"Jelly-belly," was all she could think of to say.

When Salina started to run in the direction of her uncle's house, Dom was more than relieved that she was getting away from this terrible thing that was happening. It was only when he saw that his sister was running directly towards another of those mysterious grey marks that he realized this was no freak accident, no unfortunate encounter with one of nature's hazards. As soon as he noticed the shadow-like shape waiting for her like a hungry predator, Dom Squires saw it for what it was. It was an ambush.

"Salina, watch out!" He was running before the words were fully from his mouth, each leg taking a leaping stride. His sister stopped on hearing her name and turned back in his direction, doing what Dom wanted her not to do. She stopped directly above the dark patch on the grass, completely unaware of its presence in her panicked state.

"Wha...?" was all she could mutter.

"Move away!" he screamed at her. "For God's sake, get off the darkness!"

All Salina could do was stand and look dumbly back at her brother with shock-drunk eyes, her head shaking slowly from left to right. She could hear him shouting at her about something, but after all that had just happened with Doug, her mind had decided to shut down until further notice.

Then before she knew it, Dom was upon her, grasping her by her waist and shoving her backwards in a rugby tackle. They both fell to the ground but away from the dark stain just before it sucked Salina's left trainer from her foot. She gave out a small yelp of surprise as she hit the hardened earth below, not yet aware that she had lost her shoe and had been only seconds away from suffering the same fate as her friend.

"Dom... Get off me," she whimpered as she struggled from his arms. "Why are you doing this to me...?"As she was speaking, her brother was back on his feet and yanking her up by her left arm with the strength one could only summon by panic.

"Get up before it grows again... before it grabs you," he screamed directly in her ear. Before Salina could protest or resist any further, Dom was half pulling, half carrying her towards the trailer. "Go up there," he yelled as he shoved her up the steps. "Get inside and don't come out!"

She was now screaming at him and trying to beat him off, her face wet with tears and her mouth quivering with terror and panic. With Phoebe and Dom's combined efforts, Salina reluctantly ascended the steps. She tripped on her way up, and if it were not for Dom's firm grip, she would have dived head first onto the hard earth below.

When Dom looked back to where Casey and Dave still stood around what remained of Doug's body, he realized with no great surprise that growing patches of the dark shapes spotted the area around them. A quick scan of the area with terrified eyes told him one thing and one thing only: they were totally trapped.

Dave Watson was vomiting for what must have been the fourth time, the last being dry retching, his stomach now totally void of all contents. It was the moment when Doug's upper body sucked into the pit when Dave felt his sanity leave his mind like a bird taking wing and migrating south. He was not even sure that this was actually a piece of reality. Surely one is not normally pulled into a ditch in an average English field and has their flesh stripped to the bone and guts forced through their nose and mouth. No. The simple fact is this: I am still sleeping up there in that caravan and having the worst nightmare of my life.

The amount of blood that pumped from Doug was what caused him to lose control of his own stomach and hurl whatever was inside onto the earth below. He had squeezed his eyes shut from the terrible scene, but he could still see the carnage imprinted in his mind like a photograph that highlighted every disturbing detail. His ears could not blot out the screaming and confused cries of his friends as they stood transfixed with shock or ran about, their words becoming just a meaningless jumble of sounds.

However, one sound eventually cut through the confusion and chaos like a knife – one single word. After a few endless seconds, that word somehow sliced its way through to the still rational thinking part of his brain. It was the sound of his name being called.

Dave looked dazedly around on hearing Dom's voice, not yet sure if all of this was for real or still one hell of a fucked-up dream. Casey continued to bend over what remained of her boyfriend, looking like a curious person observing the world's first human plant. Soon there were muffled footfalls upon the ground. He turned to see Dom's harassed face scream into his own to get off the grass before he violently pulled him back in the direction of the trailer. Dave's legs swung out from beneath him and he almost went crashing to the ground, a combination of good balance and luck being the only factors keeping him on his two feet.

"Get off the grass!" Dom screamed as he reached out for Casey, sounding like the angriest park attendant ever. "Get out of here! Move, move...!"

He pulled Casey back in the same forceful way as Dave. Her body jerked so suddenly and unexpectedly that her head lashed backwards, causing a stab of pain to zip through her neck. She moaned something in protest and stepped back to her position over Doug's body, not understanding that the horror had not yet finished – had, in fact, only just begun. Dom wrapped a strong arm around her waist and hauled her away once more, this time with a less forceful but in no way less determined manner. Casey ceased resisting and simply allowed him to drag her towards the trailer, her eyes still transfixed on her boyfriend's crushed form. Through the tears, she could see Doug's upper body being tugged further underground again, his arms jerking upwards and over his head as though he was trying to protect himself from something above. Now all that remained of her former lover was his head, arms and one foot that stuck bizarrely from the ground by his bloated face.

Yet there was a separate movement from the pit. The earth by Doug's protruding neck began to break apart as something from beneath forced itself outwards. She knew that it was not coming from Doug – even her shocked, screaming mind would verify that her once fit, joyful, caring boyfriend was as dead as they come. As she looked on while Dom dragged her further and further away, she saw a tiny glimpse of what resembled a hand reach from the earth and stretch talon-like fingers into the air. It then clasped Doug by his matted hair and began to pull and pull and pull...

Then Dom spun her round and pushed her towards the steps, his orders barking in her ears to move faster and without delay. Something else was up that she could not understand, but she and Dave moved forward like herded cattle up the concrete steps and into the trailer.

Dom had managed to drive the remaining two inside what he considered to be the safest place to be, but now he supposed it would have been far better to have all jumped into the Chrysler and just drove away from this madness. But during those few minutes of mayhem he had no space for judgemental thinking or decisive action – all he could do was react on instinct. Now, as he turned upon the top step and quickly scanned the area beyond the trailer, he was beginning to think that he had made a grave mistake. Outside they seemed to be everywhere; patches of darkness swelled upon the field before them like ink on blotting paper. What if he had trapped his friends inside a giant tin can with nowhere else to run? What else are those things capable of doing? At this very moment Dom did not care to know – he just wanted these abominations out of his sight.

As he reached for the door that rested against the outside edge of the trailer, he saw the Border collie standing in the same spot close to the bushes. It stared directly at him again, but this time it had its head lowered and its tail firmly planted between its legs. It was also whimpering, but the cries it made became smothered by the distance between them. Dom grasped the handle tightly and swung the door shut, mercifully blocking the horrors from outside, not seeing the deep fear in the dog's dark and knowing eyes.

### Chapter 8 – Trapped

Phoebe stood back from the other four who had congregated by the breakfast table, each blood-drained face looking from one to the other in stunned silence as though they were waiting for some kind of explanation for the madness that had just happened outside. Eventually they began to rouse like people wakening from some surreal nightmare where their minds were in the state between dream and consciousness, yet unable to distinguish reality from fantasy. Salina began to sob lightly while Casey stood unmoving with both hands clutching at her hair, looking as though she wanted to yank those horrific visions straight from her head. Dave started repeating "what the fuck happened, man?" to anyone who would care to listen, and Dom started punching the door of the small bedroom until a large dent formed in its centre, letting out a small grunt each time his fist hit the thick plywood.

But Phoebe had become transfixed to the television set as she stood at the back of the trailer, her wide eyes attracted to the mesmerising dots that swirled and pulsed upon the bright screen before her. Her small, hitching sobs were intermingled with the sound of the static as the T.V switched on and switched off, switched on and switched off, switched on and switched off...

"Was it an animal?" Salina suddenly blurted, drowning out Dave's previous ranting.

Surprisingly, it was Casey who eventually answered, her stunned mind returning to some state of reality. She relaxed her grip on her hair and turned slowly round in Salina's direction. "Animal?" She spat that one word out like a brawling cat through clenched teeth, her face now bearing a look of anger that enlivened her once pallid and shocked face. "Doug weighed about fifteen stone, in case you didn't realize. It had to be some big fucking animal to pull him under the ground! What animal do _you_ know around here that can do _that_?" She then let off a long cry and forced away the curls of her hair from her sweating forehead with a swift flick of her hand. "Christ all- fucking-mighty!"

"Well, what do _you_ suggest it was then?" Dave snapped at Casey, totally disregarding the fact that she had just seen her fiancé mutilated before her eyes. "If you're so fucking clever, then maybe _you_ can tell us all what you –"

"Leave it out, Dave," Dom's low and toneless voice cut in, speaking as though everyone was merely arguing about the weather. He held his right hand in his left as he studied the cuts and bruises caused by his outburst upon the door, appearing totally spent of anger, frustration and fear. His mind was on the dark patch of grass he and his sister had discovered back at their uncle's front yard and the fact that they were missing. He put two and two together and come up with an answer he did not like. "Time's not for arguing, damn-it, but trying to sort out how to get away from here and get help."

Casey took one look at him and walked away towards the living room where she began to restlessly pace from left to right. "Help?" she said with a voice that was beginning to sound on the verge of hysteria. "Help for Doug? Think they could piece him together again? Well, hey?" Tears now ran freely down her cheeks. "Doug's... gone now. Gone..."

"No," Dom continued in his flat tone. "I mean, we have got to get out of here. How do we know what else those weird, fucked-up things can do... or what they even are? We know for sure that they come from out of nowhere and they're fast... did any of you see them coming? The other patches that appeared?"

Dave's barely audible voce – hoarse and slightly trembling – drifted in like a phantom's words of anguish. "I've still not got a signal on my phone. How about the rest of you? If we can't get a signal here then how can anybody..."

There was a sudden shriek and a loud crash from the end of the trailer. Everybody simultaneously flinched and spun in the direction of the noise to find Phoebe standing over the upturned television with her head buried in her hands. Now the screen faced the ceiling while the T.V set's slightly curved back rocked gently from side to side upon its table, the relentless static dots continuing to dance for a second before briefly becoming dark and silent as it switched on and off in a continuous cycle. Phoebe remained that way until Dom strolled casually over to her side and switched the television off. The girl slowly raised her head from her hands and looked up at him with eyes that were so wide they filled her entire face. "It just wouldn't stop flickering...it sent me crazy," she told him before slumping down upon the lounge seat.

"Where're the keys?" Casey asked, her strident voice now coming from the other end of the trailer.

Dom turned to look at her. She stood with her head to the toilet door. Her eyes were closed and she appeared to be deep in thought. "What keys?"

"The keys to the car, where are they?"

Dom had to think. With all the previous chaos and confusion his mind struggled to remember if Doug had left the keys in the Chrysler's ignition or had put them back into the pocket of his shorts where they would now be deep inside the blackness of that man eating pit. He shuddered at the very thought and tried to concentrate on his friend's last actions before the horror started.

"The keys..." Dom swiftly stepped over to the window and saw the Chrysler Voyager sitting silently upon the grass about thirty feet away (why didn't he park the damn thing closer?) with its driver's door hinged fully open. His eyes unwillingly moved to the dark smears collected around the trailer like mini pits of tar, then to where Doug's body had once been – now just another ugly patch of blackened turf again. From this angle, the vehicle's open door obstructed his view, but he was now more than convinced that the keys were still within the ignition, waiting to be turned...

He moved his face from the window and looked at Casey again. She was still in the same position with her forehead against the bathroom door and her eyes squeezed shut in concentration. "I'm sure they're still in there," he finally told her.

Casey slowly began to nod, her skull rocking against the door's smooth wooden surface. "Right," she calmly said in a low voice. "Okay... okay ..."

Casey was making her way to the Chrysler before anyone could even register that she had moved. The trailer's door slammed against its metallic exterior wall as she swung her legs onto the block steps, hesitating only once when she spotted the nearest dark smudge below. She purposely kept her mind a total blank and allowed the adrenalin to take over; driving her legs towards the waiting vehicle that was so close yet seemed so far away. She was not aware whether she had stepped on any of the patches as she ran, her eyes fixed straight ahead at the open interior of the Chrysler that seemed to be beckoning to her like an old, trusty friend. With a cry of triumph, she leapt inside, leaned out and slammed the door shut in one smooth action.

"Casey!"

She stole a glance from the safety of her vehicle to see Salina at the trailer's doorway, her mouth open wide in an expression of disbelief. Dom, Phoebe and Dave soon appeared behind her, their faces wearing an equal look of total astonishment.

"Casey," Salina repeated again, her eyes never blinking. "Are you okay?"

She started to tell them that so far was so good, but only a weak, inaudible squeak came out. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Fine... I'm all right," she managed with more clarity.

A clear image of Doug's grinning face drew from the deep banks of her memory when she briefly shut her eyes. Tears that wanted desperately to be released began to well, but she had to fight to hold them back. Get us out of this shit first – cry later, she told herself. Her eyes reopened and scanned the grass around her, realizing there were at least twenty of those abominations collected around the automobile and the trailer, each differing slightly in size and shape.

After noticing the window was not fully shut, her fingers sought the button that controlled the windows. Even though she suspected that those things were confined to the ground, Casey did not want to take any chances. She pressed down hard upon the button but nothing happened. Then she realized with dawning horror that the vehicle's electrics would not work without turning the ignition key – she had not yet checked that the keys were even there.

Her eyes snapped down to below the steering column, heart leaping into her throat. For one sickening second she believed that it was not there and that she was trapped inside another can of steel – smaller than the one she had just escaped from. But the light of the sun glinted off the surface of the ignition key inserted into its rightful place. She closed her eyelids for a moment and thanked God for the first time that she could remember and asked him for one more small favour as she reached down and turned it. The engine roared into life immediately and she snapped her eyes open again, looked over at the group of her friends in the doorway of the trailer and gave them all the 'thumbs-up'. "Let's get going," she called from the gap in the window.

"Stay right there," Dom ordered the others as he advanced cautiously down the steps. He carefully prodded the grass with his left foot before taking his first step from the safety of the concrete blocks.

"Don't be stupid, Dom," his sister said from above. "Just let her drive away and get help. Come back up here, it's not worth the risk!"

Dom ignored her pleas and continued putting one foot in front of the other, slowly easing forward with his eyes trained a few inches before him like a man venturing through a minefield. The blackened patches were scattered in a hodgepodge formation between himself and the vehicle, now only small saucer-sized marks on the ground. Dom suspected that at any moment, if he drew close to one of them, they would begin to expand like a waiting mouth of some exotic sea creature.

"Dom," Salina pleaded again from behind, "this is stupid! Just come back and let Casey go and get help!"

The Chrysler was getting closer – just a few large strides – but there were about four of those alien patches in his pathway that would force him to divert his course, making his task that much harder. The engine hummed satisfyingly and just the sound alone was enough to keep him putting one foot in front of the other.

Casey let the driver's side window down another inch and called out to him. "Just run, Dom, or go back again. I'm gonna drive round real close to the caravan so you can all get in at once!"

It made perfect sense to him now. He felt like a total idiot venturing unnecessarily out here when he could have remained in safety. Dom hesitated, one foot poised in mid-air, trying to determine if it would be easier to turn back or continue onwards. A lucky glance down at the foot bearing his weight decided his next move immediately. A darkening patch appeared to be spreading rapidly beneath his shoe like smouldering paper. Without a further thought, Dom sprinted blindly forwards and reached the vehicle with about five large strides. The screaming panic within his own head blotted out the sudden screams and shouts of encouragement from the others behind him. He moved to the passenger's door behind where Casey sat with her face still pressed to the glass and reached for the handle, intending to slide open the door and scramble inside to safety. But there was a loud 'click' the instant his hand touched the handle. From the corners of his eyes he saw the locking button flip downwards on its own accord, locking all the vehicle's doors through the central locking system. He tugged at the handle again and again until he was sure it would break off in his hand. "Casey?" he pleaded as he peered in at her through the window. "Just open the door for me!"

He saw her pulling at the internal door handle with one hand and trying to prise up the lock button with the other. "It's stuck," she said through clenched teeth.

Dom also attempted to open the driver's door but got the same result. Wasting no more time, he ran round the front of the Chrysler and tried the front passenger's door. It also would not open. After a series of tugs upon the adjacent door handle and the hatchback, he realized with growing, sickening dread that the entire vehicle was locked. He smashed his fist against its metalwork in frustration and let off a short scream of anger. "For fuck-sake, open the damn door!"

"It won't fucking open!" Casey cried back after leaning across to the passenger's side and repeating the procedure with equal outcome. "I didn't even touch it... it seemed to shut itself!"

Dom would have to think fast. The other three at the trailer were each calling to him but their voices were intermingling and becoming a confused jumble of words. Another nervous glance at his feet assured him that the grass below was still green, but he knew that time was not on his side. _Run back to the goddamn caravan_ he thought in a panic. _Just go back again while you still have a chance..._

Casey was still tugging at each locking button with frantic effort when a positive thought suddenly crossed Dom's mind. He yelled through the glass of the passenger's window and ordered her to drive before leaping onto the vehicle's hood, bringing his knees up into a crouching position. "Drive," he commanded again through the windscreen, "I'll get on the roof and hang on. Just go!"

Dom banged twice against the metal with the palm of one hand to indicate that he was ready, and soon after the vehicle began to inch slowly forward. He lay on his front upon the hot roof in a spread-eagle position, clinging to the edge of each side with a strong grip.

Then the Chrysler stalled and came to a sudden stop. Everything became completely silent as though the whole world had paused and held its breath. Dom waited for that rich hum of the engine, waited for it to burst back into life again. It never came. From within the cabin below, he could hear Casey's muffled swear words as she tried the ignition again and again without success. There was neither the slightest sound nor motion as she tried to turn the engine, not even a whirr or a tick that gave any indication of mechanical or electrical failure. There was only complete silence.

"What's wrong now?" Dave called.

Dom slid his body over so he could peer into the cabin through the closed sunroof. He could see Casey hunched over the steering wheel as she fruitlessly continued to turn the key in the ignition. It was as clear to him as the sun in the sky that the engine was completely dead. He then leant his head over the edge and spoke through the gap in the window.

"Can't you get it working?" he asked and Casey almost jumped from her seat at the sight of his upside down face peering in at her.

"It just won't start," she told him shrilly. "It just died on me and won't start again!" She tried the ignition one more time before lashing out at the steering wheel with the heel of her hand. "Fucking thing!" She looked up at him through tears of frustration. "Now what?"

Now what? Dom knew nothing about the workings of cars. He had not even had driving lessons yet, let alone knew how to start a dead motor. Doug was the one with the knowledge of such things, but Doug was no longer here.

"Dom?" It was Salina's voice, drifting from the trailer. When Dom looked over at her he saw that she had descended the steps and was placing both feet onto the grass – one minus a shoe. A sickening sensation began to twist within his stomach at her stupidity.

"Stay where you are," he commanded. "Don't come out here!"

"But what's going on?"

"Go back up there and stay with the others!"

Salina seemed to hesitate for a moment, her feet wanting to continue onwards and defy her brother's orders. Reluctantly she finally turned round and stepped back onto the first block. She stood looking at him with tightly folded arms and a sulky expression.

Dom peered back through the side window. "Did you try the doors again? What about the sunroof?"

Casey attempted once again to open the two nearest doors but the latches were somehow jammed into place. Her effort to open the sunroof was also in vain. "Nothing fucking works in this damn thing," she screamed out at him. "It won't start and I can't even get out of here!"

"Look at the control panel," he said, pointing at the dashboard before her. "Are there any lights on? Is the whole thing completely dead?"

She looked. "No... There's nothing. I –"

"Dom?" Salina's voice seemed to echo through the still air.

"Not yet," he called back as he struggled to peer into the cabin through the strong sunlight reflecting off the glass.

"Dom, you had better get her out of there!"

From where Salina stood, she had a good view of the area beneath the Chrysler where its shadow had appeared to deepen to an extreme shade of black. At first she believed – hoped and prayed – that the subsequent movements from below were just part of her terrified imagination. Now, as pallid shapes that loosely resembled limbs rose up from the ground and reached for the structures beneath the vehicle, Salina knew with a certain dread that Casey's place of sanctuary was soon to be violated.

"She's got to get out of there, Dom," Salina bellowed again and stepped back onto the grass. "For God's sake, we've got to do something now!"

The panic in his sister's voice made Dom look over at her again. She was now pointing to below the Chrysler and he understood immediately what was happening beneath them. "Casey?" he yelled through the gap in the window. "I'm going to try and get you out of there, okay?"

"But I've got to get it started," she said before trying the ignition again. The look of determination remained on her face but her eyes also told him that she was completely defeated.

By now, Dave and Phoebe had also discovered the movements from beneath the vehicle and were now bellowing out their own warnings at them. Casey looked over at the other three, her brow creasing as she tried to determine what they were getting at. Whatever it was, she knew it was not good. She looked up at Dom with confusion and fresh, dawning panic washing over her face. "What's going on? What's happening...? Dom?"

A sudden loud grating noise from below Casey's feet shook the entire vehicle. A massive thump closely followed. Then another. And another. She screamed and instinctively reached for the handle again, her nails digging into the soft panelled surface of the door in her frenzied efforts to open it. "What's happening? I'm trapped, I'm fucking trapped!"

A brief moment of silence and stillness ensued before another sound – a long and deep grinding – tore its way from front to back, and then the flooring beneath her feet began to shift as something from below forced it upwards with a series of blows.

"Oh God, what is it?" Casey screamed, lifting her legs onto the seat so her knees came under her chin. "They're coming inside!" She shifted in readiness to leap into the back but stopped just as she was about to haul herself into the seat behind. What she saw immediately changed her mind. Something from below tore a large rent in the passenger's compartment flooring as it tried to burst its way through.

Dom was now watching from the sunroof. From inside he could see the flooring being wrenched away directly below where Casey was perched, not knowing which way to turn. He knew he had to act fast or she would soon suffer the same fate as her boyfriend. He had to smash the glass.

Once he had slid back onto the bonnet he lifted his right foot and levelled it at the windscreen. He shouted out a warning before kicking out at the glass. The impact pushed him backwards and he had to wheel his body round to prevent him from falling to the ground. All he had managed was to leave a dirty print of the sole of his trainer upon the glass.

"Break it," the voice screamed from within. "Oh God, break it, please!"

Dom readied himself to try again, when, from his peripheral vision, he saw his sister hurrying over to the Chrysler. "Don't come over here," he ordered and then kicked out with all his might. This time he completely lost his balance and he found himself tumbling backwards, one second touching nothing but thin air, the next having the wind knocked out of him as his body and the back of his head made contact with solid ground. He lay helplessly on his back with the blue sky threatening to fade to black, numbness spreading throughout his limbs, the crazy noises around him beginning to drown beneath an ever-increasing buzz within his skull.

Then his sister's tormented face filled his waning vision. "Get up, quickly," she commanded and tried to haul his body from the earth.

"Sis?" Sensation began to return to his mind and body and Dom managed to drag himself onto all fours, stopping only enough to gain some breath back. Just before he got to his feet he managed to catch a mercifully brief glimpse beneath the vehicle.

The movement down there was a chaotic, rapidly moving sea of contorting bone-white limbs that twisted like a nest of squirming snakes. Things that looked like hands clasped and tore at metalwork with fierce enthusiasm. A ferocious sound of flesh slapping against flesh thundered from the mass. It was like watching a movie at double or even triple speed – something that could only be found in one's darkest nightmares.

"Get back there," he shouted and pushed Salina in the direction of the trailer, his newly found energy now driven by sheer panic. He leapt to the driver's side of the window where Casey sat staring out at them with eyes that were almost springing from their sockets with terror.

"No, let me help you," Salina shouted back and ran over to his side again. Dom now had the fingers of his hands through the small gap between the window and the doorframe, trying to pull it down. "Then help me with this!"

Before she could aid her brother's efforts to yank the window down enough for Casey to crawl through, the glass suddenly slid upwards in its tracks, the winding motor bursting into life and whirring against his opposing force. At the same instant the windscreen wipers, headlights, air conditioning and indicator lights exploded into action. The stereo blaring out Jimi Hendrix's 'Purple haze' at top volume was in close competition with the continuous warbling of the security alarm and horn.

Dom screamed out as the glass began to bite into the flesh of his trapped fingers just below their second knuckles. His sister, not knowing what to do next, punched feebly at the glass with no effect other than grazing her skin. She turned and faced the other two who remained at the trailer, although Dave had now ventured from the edge of the bottom step.

"For Christ's sake, help us," she roared above the noise. Dave immediately came running but had to weave between the swelling dark masses upon the grass.

The pain was now becoming unbearable for Dom as he struggled to free his hands. It felt as though both his arms were on fire as the window continued to squeeze and squeeze until his fingertips turned purple. From inside, Casey kicked her bare feet at the windscreen, her frenetic efforts to break it becoming a hopeless exercise. There was yet another of those tearing sounds as the flooring by the foot controls finally came away. Before she could even react, something that resembled clawed hands grabbed Casey's leg.

Dave was now at the driver's door and began to punch wildly at the window, sending out shock waves through Dom's agonised hands. He screamed at him to stop but Dave only ceased punching when he realized that he was making no real damage on the glass. He turned and looked towards the trailer, found something of use, then ran back in its direction. "Hold on, I'm coming back," he said.

Something from beneath the vehicle lightly touched Dom's leg – something ice cold. He flinched from the sensation and shifted his feet as far as they would allow, sending another massive burst of pain through his fingers and he wondered just how much more of this he could take before he went out of his mind. Then his sister's screaming words of panic caused him to make a final decision: stay here and die or free yourself now.

"Oh, my God.... The grass is turning black... below you... the grass is turning black!"

Dom squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation of the agony he was about to endure and pulled with all his might. At first, nothing budged, but as he continued to heave, the flesh of his fingers began to split and tear from its foundations, peeling and ripping strips of meat. Thin layers of skin started to roll down the shaft of his fingers upon the moist sinew below like a tight rubber glove being removed, and two fingernails from each hand ripped from their roots. The joints of the knuckles threatened to detach from their partnering phalanges as they slipped torturously between glass and metal. Dom's scream of agony locked in his throat and could not escape as he pulled and pulled until all eight of his fingers eventually slipped free with a sickening, sucking squelch.

Salina summarized the entire outcome with one, terrified scream. The window, now void of its captive, closed the final gap and the winding motor came to a satisfied stop.

Dom held both hands to his face and, as much as his numbed mind could handle, checked the damage caused by the price of freedom. All the skin above the knuckles to the tip of his first and ring fingers including the nails were gone, leaving a purple coloured underlay of muscle and bone that reminded him of some human biology diagram he once saw. The remnants of his once living tissue were now hanging in bloody clumps from the window. Only the tips of his little fingers, other than a purple groove engraved by the crushing glass, escaped with no damage. Now the blood began to well freely and ran in rivulets from the tattered flesh and down his forearms.

"GOD!" was all he could think of to say.

"Dom!" Salina sobbed her brother's name and moved to pull him away to safety when two bloodied palms slapped against the inside of the window where Dom had just freed himself seconds before. She recoiled and screamed out, her nerves too close to breaking point, and looked at Casey's face for the last time. Her friend's eyes, now vacant of all emotions – seemingly vacant of life itself – stared blindly ahead. Blood ran thickly from one corner of her lips. Sweaty blonde hair clung to her reddened face. Her mouth dropped open; she spewed blood. Then she was slumping forward, dragging her face across the glass before sliding out of view. Her hands followed suit, leaving two bloody smears in their wake.

"Oh, Casey," Salina managed to whimper as her childhood friend disappeared forever.

A new shadow, one that moved with the swiftness of the wind, fell upon the grass. Salina saw the form of Dave Watson, now holding a concrete block he pilfered from the steps high above his head, hurtling towards the vehicle. With his sunglasses poised on the edge of his nose and his skinny arms raised high, she thought he looked rather comical – like a nerdy troglodyte – and would have burst out laughing if the situation had been any different.

Realising that his friend had freed himself during his short absence, Dave diverted his course from the driver's side-window to the windscreen. He let off a short war cry that could barely be heard above the blaring horn and stereo as he smashed one corner of the block into the glass, sending a cobweb pattern to spread across its surface. Another direct hit in the centre sent the block tumbling into the cabin, leaving a jagged hole in its path.

Salina grabbed hold of her brother's upper arm and pulled him away from the blackening grass beneath his feet. She saw the way Dave was peering inside the cabin of the Chrysler; noticed the way his hands came to the side of his head in disbelief of what he found inside. Diverting her gaze, she looked into Dom's eyes and guided him towards her, seeing the hurt and fear in them but also seeing that he was alive, alert and functioning.

Then suddenly he halted and stiffened. His expression changed rapidly into one of total shock and realisation. Salina read the thoughts in her brother's face and looked down at his feet, already knowing what she would see before she witnessed it with her own eyes.

His left foot was trapped.

"Sal?" he managed to speak before what felt like strong, ice-cold hands tugged him into the earth. He grasped hold of his sister's arm as he went, his left leg sinking almost to the kneecap.

"Oh, God, help me, Dave!" Salina screamed above the continuous noise. She gripped Dom's tee shirt and pulled, managing only to tear it from his body, leaving herself with a tattered rag for her effort.

"Don't let it take me, don't you let it take meeeeee," he cried out as his mind played visions of Doug's body being dragged below the earth like a returning nightmare. Dave's hands were now upon him, grasping and clawing at his sweaty flesh in a sloppy, panicky manner, trying with every effort to pull him from the pit as he did with Doug. Dom could almost hear Dave saying to himself " _you're a goner! Boy, we tried this before and I know for sure that you're a real goner..."_

There was just enough time to consider the possibility of repeating his previous procedure to free himself when he found he was actually doing it. Yet again he felt flesh tearing from his bones as he desperately dragged his leg from the ground, feeling numerous talons ripping through skin and muscle as it reversed its direction. He actually managed to bring his lower leg into the open again when another, stronger hand clasped the top of his ankle. Dom knew that this was it. He had one chance and that one chance he would take. He waited for Dave to loosen his grip before shoving his sister away, simultaneously lifting his free foot from the solid ground and projecting himself sideways. He launched himself easily from his friend's hands and allowed his own bodyweight to aid his descent towards the earth, twisting and tumbling face first into the green grass. There was some kind of sensation in his leg as the tibia and fibula bones broke into two separate pieces just above his ankle, and the dry snapping sound that followed could only have come from his own imagination. Firstly, he felt no pain mainly due to the adrenalin and the way his mind had intensely focused on what he had intended to do next – he was going to leave his foot behind.

"Dom!" Salina screamed continuously at him. All she could do now was stand and scream, stand and scream...

Dave tried to intervene, placing his hands upon his lower leg, but Dom could feel the power gone from his grip now. Perhaps he had seen the bloody bone protruding through his flesh like a jagged piece of wood from a felled tree and finally given in – far too much blood for one day.

Dom grasped the turf with both damaged hands and pulled his body forward with the last of his failing strength whilst pushing with his free leg at the same time, feeling the connecting skin and tissue tearing and coming free from each other; vessels dividing; bones detaching. As he twisted his upper body round and yanked his mutilated leg one final time he felt one more small resistance – a stubborn ligament or the Achilles tendon, perhaps – before the remainder of his leg was completely free from the pit.

Now Phoebe joined Dave and Salina crouching by Dom's side as he lay on his back with bloody hands covering his face. Nobody spoke as they lifted his body from the grass without further delay, fearing another patch would grow beneath him. The blaring stereo, horn and shrill wailing of the security alarm abruptly ceased; the windscreen wipers stopped in mid sweep and the headlights, taillights and indicators blinked out together, leaving nothing but an unnatural stillness that hung in the air like a thick fog. It felt to all of them that the evil things in the ground were angry at being cheated of their next victim.

Dom removed his hands from his face and allowed his eyes to look at the tattered stump of his lower leg. He saw how his blood had smeared across the grass like a trail left by some giant slug.

But he was free. A weak smile managed to pass his lips at this thought. He had beaten it. He had gotten away – not in one piece, but he was still alive. Now, while the remainder of his holidaying buddies half dragged, half carried his body, he began to chuckle. Then the chuckling rapidly turned into hysterical laughter. And finally, as they gently hoisted him up the concrete steps to the trailer, he lifted his head to the heavens and howled and howled and howled until the final drop of strength drained from his body and the world mercifully became black.

### Chapter 9 – Marooned

"Put him in here, on the bed," Salina ordered as they lifted Dom's limp body through the tight opening of the trailer's door. Dave and Phoebe, both wheezing and panting, helped carry her brother into the main bedroom and place him as gently as possible upon the ruffled sheets of the double bed, shoving aside the discarded items of Doug and Casey's clothing – the two people that were alive and breathing only half an hour before. Blood from his mutilated leg immediately spread across the whiteness of the sheets like crimson paint spilled upon a canvas. As soon as the mattress supported Dom's weight, Dave rushed from the room, shut the main door, locked and then bolted it.

"Phoebe, get me some clean sheets from up there," Salina said, stabbing a finger at a room-length cupboard above the head of the bed. She leaned over her brother and checked the damage of his lower left leg for the first time, her heart missing a few beats when she saw the tattered ends of flesh and sinew and the empty area where his foot had once been. She wanted to gag but forced her mind to stay focused. "Tear some strips off so I can tie them around his leg. We've got to stop the blood before he bleeds to death."

Dave re-entered the room and stood by the door, stepping from foot to foot, wanting desperately to help but not knowing quite what to do. Salina soon solved this.

"Dave, there should be some scissors in the drawer below the sink. I think there are two pairs. Get me the sharpest ones."

Dave immediately went searching while Salina helped Phoebe tear strips about three inches wide from the thin linen. Dom started to stir and let off a low, guttural moan that caused Salina to start sobbing and lose control of her task. Now she was close to panic – to cracking up – but she managed to convince herself to stay cool with the belief that Dom could possibly die if he was not treated in these first vital minutes – mentally slapping her own face. "Come on, come on," she muttered shakily under her breath. "Get a grip on yourself..."

Dom cried out and flailed his arms wildly about him, splattering the bed sheets with fine droplets of blood from his skinless fingers.

"Let me do this," Phoebe said as she prised the sheet from her trembling hands. "Go to him."

Moments later, Dave came rushing back in holding a pair of serrated edged scissors before him. "Are these the ones?"

Salina grabbed them without a word and started to cut away the left leg of Dom's jeans, being as careful as she could but finding the task difficult with hands that were far from steady. Dom's movements were becoming regular and stronger as consciousness returned, the pain cruelly drawing him back. Now the flow of blood was fortunately only seeping from the stump in small trickles due to vascular spasm. Once the lower leg was exposed, she began to wrap a strip of sheeting a few inches above the stump as a temporary tourniquet, tying a neat knot at the end.

"Someone get me the antiseptic from my bag in the bathroom," she said, and Dave left the room again. Salina turned to Phoebe who stood at her side, her wide and haunted eyes staring out from an ashen face. "I think I've got to raise his leg up high... to help stop the bleeding." She motioned to the head of the bed. "Pass me those pillows and put 'em under his leg while I lift it."

Dave came back in as they were placing three folded pillows beneath Dom's injured leg, propping it about a foot and a half in the air. He could now clearly see blood-reddened bone protruding from the flesh above the ankle, reminding him of an uncooked chicken leg, and had to avert his eyes quickly. "Here, here," he simply said and shoved the antiseptic bottle beneath Salina's nose. She took it and began to pour the liquid onto some of the strips, soaking them until they dripped onto the mattress in little patters. At first Dom began to moan with the pain, then, as his sister attempted to treat his mutilated leg, his moans soon developed into screams.

"I haven't done any first aid training before, only read a little about it," Salina said, as if compelled to justify her actions. "I hope to God I'm doing this right." She looked around at the others, her eyes wide and seemingly pleading. "Does anyone know what to do...if I'm doing it right?"

Phoebe just shrugged her shoulders and stared back at her in silence, watching as she began to dress her brother's wounds. The strips of sheeting used as gauze soaked up the blood like a sponge when she packed it against the end of the stump. Dave had to restrain Dom when his thrashing became too violent for her to cope. He drifted in and out of consciousness as his sister tenderly applied the makeshift bandages with the precision of a professional, crying out only once more as she dressed the skinless fingers of his hands. He called out his sister's name and raised his head from the mattress to look at her before finally blacking-out, his lips moving slightly as if in a silent prayer.

"He's sleeping now," Salina said as the three of them stood over Dom's supine body with his left leg raised above the pillows, bandaged hands placed neatly by his sides. A large, dark bloodstain dominated the bottom end of the bed sheet and two smaller smears where his bloody hands had rested spread across the middle on either side. Only his chest, rising and falling in shallow but steady movements, gave any indication that he was still alive.

"He's in shock, I gather, but he seems to be stable... enough until we get help," Salina near whispered, nodding her head in self-agreement.

Dave Watson turned his head and looked at her with a questioning expression but chose to say nothing.

"I will keep an eye on him," she continued before walking to the door. She absently wiped Dom's blood from her hands onto the front of her tee shirt, leaving a long, red smear upon its white fabric. "But let's just let him rest for a moment while we sort this out." They each looked at Dom one more time before walking single file from the room in complete silence, heads lowered like grieving relatives at a funeral parlour. Once the three were outside the room, all they could do for the next few minutes was stand and stare at each other with wide and haunted eyes.

"So, what now?" Phoebe asked as she turned away from the little group, finally breaking the silence. She had been fiddling with her phone – had been fiddling with every phone she found – but still could get no signal. She flung it across the room in frustrated anger where it clattered somewhere on the floor within the shadows.

A nervous sigh escaped Salina's lips when she walked to the window above the kitchen sink, her now completely bare feet slapping on the linoleum floor. Her eyes fell immediately to the grass where a number of other patches had materialised and collected like strange, dark lily pads upon a moss-covered lake. They seemed to be waiting, seemed to know where they were. She even had the gut feeling that this is where they wanted them – incarcerated in a can of steel for their convenience like animals awaiting slaughter. Her eyes then travelled over to the battered body of the Chrysler that sat at an angle from the trailer, the cobwebbed glass and gaping hole in the windscreen appearing like a giant bullet hole. She could make out the two front seats through the driver's side-window, but other than the bloody smears on the glass, there was no physical trace of Casey. She was gone and her imagination tried to tell her where, but she battled to keep it at the far reaches of her mind.

"What now?" she began in answer to Phoebe's question. "I'll tell you what now: I'm getting the fuck out of here."

Dave, now replacing his Ray-Bans with his regular glasses, snorted and slumped down on one of the breakfast area seats. "Yeah, and how do you suppose you're gonna do _that?"_

Salina leant back against the draining board before she spoke, the volume of her voice rising uncontrollably as the words rapidly flowed. "We've got to think of a way out of here. You've seen my brother in there, haven't you? Seen how bad he is? He's lost _blood_ , Dave, and he needs medical attention now!" She lowered her head and bit down on her lower lip as it began to tremble. It took a few deep breaths and a moment's pause before she was composed enough to continue in a more steady rhythm. "I'll volunteer to go outside to find help, but I need you both to look after Dom for me while I'm gone."

"Find help. How?" Dave blurted.

"I'm gonna fucking run for it!" Salina blurted back. "You saw how Casey simply ran to the car and how we also ran easily about outside. It seems like they can only get us when we've stopped moving. We've got to try something, cos I simply can't stay here and do nothing with Dom the way he is." She turned and looked out of the window again, her tearful eyes hungrily eating the vision of the distant hills like a long-term prisoner yearning for the outside world. She thought that if she could just sprint straight out of that door... If she just kept running and running then maybe...

Dave stood up and walked over to Salina's side. He snatched a clean glass from the draining board and filled it with water from the faucet, taking large, noisy gulps. When the tumbler was empty, he filled it again. "I admire your courage", he said after draining the second glass and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "But unless you come up with something better than just running out the door, I believe you're going to achieve nothing but suicide."

"What choice do I have?" she snapped immediately.

Dave looked over her shoulder at the view from the kitchen window. The fields and hills beyond looked so far yet so near. It felt to him like he was marooned on a floating piece of driftwood in shark-infested water, tormented with the knowledge that land was only a few miles ahead. But how far could these 'black patches' go? Was there a limit? Was grassland their only hunting ground?

"What do you think they are?" Phoebe's voice came from the far end of the trailer where she also stood looking out onto the grassy fields from the lounge area window. "Do you think they are some genetic experiment that got loose... or... or some kind of alien from space?"

Both Dave and Salina turned from the kitchen window and looked at her, an expression somewhere between amusement and perplexity upon each of their faces.

"There's something evil about those _things,_ and I know they're not some kind of animal, that's for sure." Phoebe more spat than pronounced 'things' as though the word itself was a vile taste in her mouth. She stood and waited patiently for their reply, noting the subtle but definite look of contempt on Salina's face.

"Aliens?" Salina finally said. "This isn't one of your fucking episodes of Star Trek, you know. We've got to think seriously here!"

"But you've seen the way they act... the way they move," Phoebe continued defiantly. "They can think and plan an attack. They have intelligence and seem to know what you're thinking. They even had control of the car's electrics, too!" Phoebe's eyes moved nervously to the television set where it remained upon its curved back like an upturned beetle, remembering the way it switched itself on and off, driving her crazy. "Maybe they have control of all electrical things."

"And I suppose you noted all this down while the rest of us were out there trying to save Casey's life," Salina said, but regretted her words the instant they were out of her mouth.

Phoebe dropped her eyes to the floor and became silent.

"But she's right, though," Dave said. "We all saw those hands underneath the car and saw the way they grabbed Dom and Doug. We've also seen how they just... materialize from nowhere. What other creature on God's earth do _you_ know that is remotely like that? This is some kind of weird, new thing out there – supernatural or otherwise." He shook his head after saying the word 'supernatural', not liking the way it sounded.

Salina became dead quiet for a moment and turned the other way. Within the uneasy silence of the trailer, they could almost hear whatever troubling thoughts were going through her mind like an audible tick. After a short while, she turned back to the others wearing a face that was graver than before. She spoke in a voice that was low and lifeless, sounding like a machine slowly winding down after a hard day's production. "We saw one of those strange patches at my uncle and aunt's house yesterday. Me and Dom."

Her two friends remained in numbed silence as she talked, their haunted faces reflecting their feelings of disquietude.

"We found it in their front yard when we were looking for them. It was like those others outside, but it didn't seem to be alive. It had this weird feeling when we touched it... something I can't describe. And I knew even then that there was something dangerous about it. That was why I was edgy."

"Well, thanks for the confession, but why didn't you bloody-well tell us about it yesterday, for Christ's sake?" Dave snapped.

"Oh, yeah," she returned, her voice now enlivened by a rich tone of sarcasm, "we would have come back and told you that we found a black patch of grass and you would have said: 'everybody out, we have to run and call in the S.A.S!'"

Dave just looked sternly down at her through his thin-rimmed spectacles like a school headmaster above a mischievous child. She turned away from his cold stare and returned to the kitchen sink.

"Whatever it is," she said as she opened the drawer beneath the draining board, "it's fucked-up." Her hand clasped around the handle of a large carving knife and pulled it from the clutter of cutlery. She held out its dull blade before her eyes, looking upon its keen edge and cruel point. "And if these things are living, thinking creatures, then we can kill 'em."

Dave took his empty glass over to the breakfast table, sat down and proceeded to pour neat vodka from a half-empty bottle. "So you're going to attack a patch of grass with a knife, are you?"

"You said yourself that those things had hands." She raised her voice again. "If they grab me, then I'll stab 'em!"

"Rather you than me," Watson said mainly to himself before raising the glass to his lips and downing the vodka in one hit. He coughed wildly before pouring out another glass.

There was a low moaning from the bedroom and Salina dropped the knife into the sink where it clattered amongst the dirty dishes and rushed to her brother's side. She found him lying at an angle across the mattress as he thrashed about weakly in a stupor. His injured leg had slid from the supporting cushions and had crossed over his right leg, the end of the bandage near the stump coming loose. Dave poked his head around the door and looked in.

"Help me put him back straight," she said, and they both moved him into his original position, propping his leg onto the pillows again. Dom's entire body was sweating profusely and the sheet beneath him was almost completely soaked.

"Give me water," he croaked and shifted awkwardly on the bed. "I'm thirsty... sis?"

Salina replaced the bloody makeshift gauze with more strips of sheeting, soaking it with the last of the antiseptic and re-dressing the bandaging after Dave brought him water and left the two together. Lastly, she covered his lower body with a blanket and stayed with him for another twenty minutes until he drifted back into an uneasy sleep. When she left the bedroom again, she found both Phoebe and Dave sitting at the breakfast table, each smoking a cigarette. Salina propped herself against the kitchen sink again and watched them.

"He's in a lot of pain. We've got to give him something for it," Dave said in a voice that was low and flat. Salina watched his Adam's apple rise and fall on each word he spoke. He blew smoke into long streaks from pursed lips as his head rested on the back wall. "Maybe we can give him some dope or some vodka... Ease his pain a little."

"You can't give him alcohol," Salina said. Her voice was also void of any emotion. "It opens up the arteries, I'm sure of it. He may start bleeding again. Plus, he will need operating on after I go and get help, so he needs to be clean from any booze and narcotics. I shouldn't really be giving him water, either."

Dave let off a short, sharp laugh. "Can't exactly call 'a bit of weed' a narcotic. Will do him far more good than harm. If I was in his position, I know what I would prefer."

"Yeah, but you're not in his position and you're not my brother, who I happen to care for more than you," she snapped.

Dave, seemingly unmoved by her comment, continued to smoke his cigarette in silence. When he finished he dropped the butt into an empty beer can and looked straight at her. "You're still serious about running for it, aren't you?"

She nodded. "I'll run across to the roadside – I should be safe there. I'll probably head into the village and knock on some doors on the way." The memory of the strange, dark grey patch and the lonesome shopping bag in her uncle's front yard caused a shiver to zing up her spine. She did not want to admit to herself the almost conclusive fate of her aunt and uncle.

"Well, wherever you decide to go," Dave said, "just make sure it's not coloured green."

Salina had gone to the toilet to urinate but found she had to quickly turn round and vomit what little she had in her stomach. She had dry-retched until tears squeezed from her eyes and her abdominal muscles threatened to cramp. Partly it was due to the shock of what had happened almost two hours before, but mostly it was because she knew she had no other choice but to venture outside – outside where those black things waited like sharks. Just the mere thought of running blindly across the field armed with nothing but a kitchen knife in the hope of reaching what she only assumed would be 'safe ground' brought her nerves to the brink of overload. Her mind kept replaying the moment when Doug and Casey were sucked mercilessly into the earth, and she tried unsuccessfully to deny the certainty that, if her mission should fail, she could suffer the same barbaric fate. But it was a gamble she was willing to take if it would bring her brother to safety.

She flushed the toilet, closed the lid and sat down upon its cool surface. A minute later, she was burying her face in both hands and sobbing uncontrollably. She cried for Casey. She cried for Doug. She cried for her brother who was lying helplessly in the next room with a missing foot. Fearing that the others would hear she tried hopelessly to stifle the hitching sobs that shuddered through her body until her emotions were under some form of control. Five minutes later, she was rinsing her face at the sink. "Get a grip on yourself, girl," she told herself as water dripped from her nose and chin. "For Dom's sake, just..."

She looked at her reflection in the mirror above. Two terrified eyes stared back through a face she hardly recognized as her own. She drew two rasping, shuddery breaths, straightened her hair as best she could and opened the door.

Phoebe continued to sit at the breakfast table with another cigarette, but after a fleeting inspection of the trailer, Salina noticed that Dave was not about. She was just on the brink of asking Phoebe of his whereabouts when the familiar sound of glass chinking against glass came from within the master bedroom. She rushed into the room to see Dave aiding her brother with the vodka, his hands guiding Dom's trembling, bandaged fingers as he tipped the glass between his lips. She screamed out and attempted to knock the tumbler from their hands but only managed to trip on Casey and Doug's discarded clothing.

"What do you think you're doing?" she shouted, straightening herself, eyes ablaze with fury – fury at her friend's betrayal. "You can't give him that... he mustn't drink alcohol in his state! I've already told you –"

"Can't you see he's in pain?" Dave screamed back. "For God's sake, let him have something. He's in agony!"

"I'll get him to a hospital soon and he'll get morphine. They need to operate on him."

"Operate?" Dave sneered, bringing the glass to Dom's lips again in defiance. "What are they gonna do for him? Stitch his old foot back on? And since when have you become a doctor, eh?"

"He needs treatment, Dave!"

"And I'm fucking treating him," he bellowed as he tipped the tumbler again, spilling some of the liquid down one side of Dom's chin.

Dave released a single, sharp laugh. "And if an ambulance does happen to get here we can say: 'I do apologise but my friend has had a little to drink. And by the way, please avoid the black things on the ground as you bring the stretcher round!"

Her brother looked at her after taking huge gulps of the vodka and managed a weak smile. "Its okay, Sal. A little bit won't do any harm. It's for the pain, that's all."

"I don't think it's good for the blood pressure...because of... and... and the bleeding..." She knew exactly what she wanted to say but her words kept tripping over her tongue on the way out, conscious of Dave with his critical opinions. "And I need to use that vodka as antiseptic for your hands and leg."

"Why don't you just drop this 'medical consultant' act of yours and get real," Dave snapped.

"Fuck you!" Salina said.

"Fuck you, double," Dave said back.

Two of the pillows that were originally supporting his leg now propped up Dom's head. As soon as Salina noticed this, she rushed over to the head of the bed, shoved Dave out of her way and retrieved them from behind his back.

"I'm all right, Sal," Dom weakly said but made no resistance to his sister's actions. She removed the pillows and he relaxed his head against the mattress. There were tears in his eyes when he looked up at her – tears of pain, sorrow or both. "It won't harm me to have a drink... Let me have something for the pain. Please, sis?"

She had to look away from his contorting face – those pleading eyes that spoke of his torment.

"I want to but I just can't..." The sobs came again and she tried to bury her face in her hands, not wanting to let them see her weaken, especially Dave. "How can I leave you like this?" She managed to look at Watson who stood watching her with what looked like pitiful amusement. "How can I trust you to look after him while I'm gone?" she asked, her voice now breaking.

"Fine," Dave curtly snapped and headed for the doorway, uncouthly barging past Salina and almost colliding with Phoebe who was eavesdropping behind the door. "Have it your way, then!"

"I'm only asking for you to be a bit more responsible," she called out after him as he stormed from the room.

"Well, by the way you seem to have got things sorted I won't have much time to 'be responsible'. You should be back within no time with half of Devon's ambulance service and the fucking S.W.A.T team!" There was a thump from the back of the trailer as he kicked something, followed shortly after by the click of his Zippo lighter.

Phoebe was sitting back in her usual place at the breakfast table when Salina left the bedroom. Dave was now slouched upon the lounge seats, one leg stretched out across its surface. He was smoking yet another cigarette with his face turned towards the window.

"Dave," Salina said softly, her voice sounding awkward in the quietness of the room. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? I'm just worried sick for Dom, that's all."

Dave's head slowly turned in her direction, his eyes looking nonchalantly at her through his glasses. He continued to remain silent, forcing her to justify her actions further.

"I know you were trying to help, and I'm thankful, but please restrain from giving him any alcohol, okay?" There was no answer so she sighed and lowered her head. It seemed a long time before she spoke again. "I'm going to spend a little time with my brother so I can say a proper goodbye to him before I go... just in case, you know..." She stepped over to where Dave sat and reached out a hand, gesturing towards his cigarette. "Can I have one of those before I go, please?"

He slowly reached behind him and produced a pack of Marlboro. There were two left. He passed her one and she took it.

"Thanks," she whispered.

"You don't have to," Dave told her as he lit her cigarette.

"Don't have to what?" she asked. _Don't have to smoke?_ _Don't have to thank you?_

"You don't have to say goodbye to him."

Salina's forehead crinkled into a frown. "Why not?"

"Because I'm going instead."

Salina stood completely still as she gawped at him, face looking as though she had just been slapped, cigarette burning away between her fingers. "What did you say?" she finally managed.

Dave discourteously stubbed the cigarette out on the narrow windowsill where it smouldered in a twisted shape before holding her eyes with his own.

"I said: I'm going outside instead of you."

"But I've got to –" she started, but Dave cut her short.

"That's my final word." He turned his head away again and looked out at the sun-blessed grass, seeing the way their thin, green blades stood straight in the breathless air, seeing the way the daisies flourished in erratic, patchy intervals. Then he let his eyes fall to a rough circle of darkness and, once again, his mind saw Doug's body squeezing through the earth until his innards erupted through his mouth.

"And my final word it will probably be."

### Chapter 10 – Escape plan

"You're not. You're simply not going!" In the dead silence of the trailer, Phoebe's protestations hung in the air like a thick cloud. She swung her legs from beneath the table and confronted Dave before he got to the door. He dropped his head while his mind focused heavily on the mission ahead. The drifting cigarette smoke illuminated by the incoming sun's rays created an effect of figures moving in early morning smog.

Salina remained a silent and sombre shape in the background. She had never objected further to his resolute decision to exchange places and had almost physically sagged with covert relief. His voluntary undertaking of the venture both flattered and baffled Salina, but in a way, her acquiescence in placing the onus in his hands could generate an element of frustration while she waited like a worried mother.

"You're not just going to walk straight out that door?" Phoebe asked in a voice that was fluctuating in pitch. The contrasting redness welling upon her ashen face gave her an almost clown-like appearance. She stepped out in front of the door as Dave approached, her slight frame attempting to block his pathway.

He stopped as he came almost nose to nose with her, her hot and shallow breath tickling the fresh stubble on his chin. There was a time when he would have reasoned with her – with anyone – and debated the pros and cons of any given situation, especially if it involved risking his own neck. But today was a day that challenged the persona of any man, and he had now decided that he would be bold and strong in the face of danger. After all, many of his friends knew him as 'Daring Dave'.

"No," he said calmly. "I'm not going to walk straight out of that door." He lifted his left hand and simply swept her aside. "I'm going to _run_ straight out of that door."

"But you haven't even thought this over – none of you. This could be suicide. You might be swallowed whole the second you walk out that door."

"Have you any better suggestions?"

Phoebe became silent.

Dave opened the door.

"Wait!" Salina's sudden voice stopped him. The flooring bounced lightly as she hurried across the room to his side. "She's right. We have to think this through first."

Dave's hand wavered upon the door handle, his heart thumping and his adrenalin firing up his nervous system. If he would not go soon, he knew there was a big possibility that he would loose his nerve and his legs would turn to jelly, turning his daring dash from the trailer into a dauntless damp squib. "I believed you'd already planned out the procedure," he said through tightly formed lips. "I'll run to the road, find the nearest house, phone the bloody police. Now can I just go before I have a cardiac?"

"But you don't know the area as well as I do," Salina said. "You've got to know which way to run or you'll just head into the moors. If you just blindly run in any direction and hope for the best, then you'll probably –"

Dave just turned and looked at her. His weary face shot her a look that simply told her to 'stop flapping about and get on with it'. "Can you just point in the right direction?" he softly asked her. "Maybe that would help?"

Salina slowly raised her arm, stopped to think, and then pointed her finger to her left. "That way. That's where the village is."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded once. "Sure."

Dave swung the door fully open, looked out for a few seconds and turned back to the others. "They're fucking _everywhere_!"

Both Phoebe and Salina poked their heads out of the door and scanned the field beyond with awe-stricken eyes. They saw a numerous collection of dark grey patches congregated in a tight formation, all in close vicinity of the trailer. They seemed to have encircled them like hunting predators closing in on its prey.

"We're surrounded," Salina whispered and her heart sank. She craned her neck to see how far in the opposite direction to the road they had spread. The patches seemed to peter out after about fifty feet in either direction, leaving only unspoilt green grass beyond. "But they've seemed to have concentrated in this one area, which seems to have given you a chance if you just run."

Phoebe stepped back inside. "Yeah, but what happens if you get to the village and find that everyone has disappeared, too. Have you thought of _that?_ "

Yes, it was also on Salina's mind. Her uncle and aunt were gone: there was one of those 'patches' on their lawn. Nobody has yet been seen or heard walking or driving past this field. The whole place appeared to be dead.

Dave looked back at her with a face of calmness that conflicted with the deep dread he felt inside. A short moment later he licked his dry lips, took a deep breath and prepared himself for his adrenalin-fuelled dash.

"This is stupid and you're all crazy!" Phoebe exclaimed and immediately went to one of the open windows at the front of the trailer. She put her mouth to the gap and simply screamed at the top of her lungs "HELP! SOMEBODY HELP US... WE NEED HELP!"

Dave and Salina could only watch dumbfounded as she stomped over to the open doorway and screamed again, repeating the one word until her voice began to break. "HELP... HELP... HEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPP!"

When she finally stopped, she just stood on the top block and stared out towards the road in silence.

Salina folded her arms tightly under her breasts. "Feel better for that, then?"

Phoebe did not answer. She continued to stand and stare, transfixed.

"If that racket from the car's horn and stereo didn't draw any attention from the locals, then I don't know what will," Dave added.

She did not answer him, either, but a short while later her voice, calm and low, eventually drifted back. "There's a dog out there."

"Do you think he's a stray?" Salina asked.

"No. He must belong to one of the locals," Phoebe said. Her voice was hoarse from her screaming, but it also had a new, enthusiastic ring to it.

The Border Collie was simply sitting erect about fifty feet away and looking straight at them, its hindquarters placed snugly on the grass with its tail coiled against its front paws. Although the dog's eyes were vigilant and noticeably nervous, its tongue danced freely from its mouth with an almost joyful expression upon each hitching pant of its chest.

"All your shouting and hollering must have caught its attention," Dave said, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his shorts. "Look, he's still got his leash on. I assume he must have run off from his owner or..." He stopped when he realized where his conjectures were leading. Salina and Dave simply looked at each other with equally knowing eyes, not needing to speak of what was on each of their minds. Seeing the ownerless dog out there, lost and lonely in a small, close-knit village as this one only solidified their fears that this was more widespread than they had first hoped.

"But why don't they attack him?" Phoebe asked. Her face suddenly brightened and became almost childlike when she noticed the distinguishing white stripe that travelled from the back of its head to the tip of its muzzle. "Hey, I think I'll call you Stripy." Her mouth dropped when she noticed what appeared to be dried blood on one of its front legs. It looked, from what they could see behind its tail, as though some fur had been torn away from its right paw, exposing a reddish-pink patch of raw flesh beneath.

"Look, I think it's been injured. Poor Stripy!" She knelt down on the concrete blocks and stretched out a beckoning arm whilst sounding a series of short whistles, trying to lure the animal forward. The dog stood slowly and reluctantly, his engraved obedience compelling him to respond to human voices. It nervously licked its lips and limped grudgingly towards them, keeping its head low and its eyes riveted in front.

"Be interesting to see if those black things will take him down," Dave muttered under his breath. There was amusement in his voice. "So far they haven't even responded to his presence."

Phoebe shot him a quick, scornful look. Then something dawned in her eyes as she was turning her attention back to the dog, which by now was closing in on one of the patches that lay furthest from the trailer. "No! Shoo, doggy... shoo! Go back, go back!" She purposely shouted her words in an aggressive way and waved her arms in the air, now trying to repel its advances. The dog stopped in mid step, clearly confused, and regarded them with eyes that now looked totally lost and tormented. "Go now, doggy. Shoo... that's a good boy!"

The collie turned, stopped, turned back. Phoebe ceased shouting and all three watched with bated breath while the dog's vacillating mind wavered on the decision to go forwards or turn back. Finally, it concluded that venturing onwards was a bad idea, so it turned swiftly round and retreated back to the roadside.

"Good boy!" Phoebe said joyfully and stood up, clapping her hands together and cheering like a girl at a racing circuit.

Dave's face remained solemn, but a light of hope was burning in his eyes as he turned towards Salina. "I believe..." he began, and then stopped briefly to think about something. "I believe that beyond the point where that dog was could possibly be a safe zone. What do you think?" His questioning eyes looked too big behind his spectacles.

All Salina could picture was the dark grey circle she and Dom had found on the grass outside their uncle's house. One solitary patch that smelt of rotten meat and vegetation when they ignorantly got close enough to touch. Next, the vision of the lonesome shopping bag sitting in the hot sun only a few feet away returned to her mind like a tormenting nightmare. She shivered and broke out into goose flesh. "I don't know," she mumbled doubtfully. "I don't think you should assume –"

There was a small crash from the master bedroom and a voice, broken but strong, followed after. "What's going on out there? Salina?"

"Dom!" Salina darted inside the bedroom and found her brother propping himself up on his bandaged hands. His face was deathly pale but his eyes were now bright and aware.

"I heard shouting," he croaked. "What's going on out there?"

"We've seen a dog outside and it seems to be okay." There was excitement in her voice. "Maybe they're not attacking no more or –"

"Or maybe they don't like the taste of dogs," Dom cut in. "I know, I saw him earlier today – heard him last night, too. Howling..." He managed to hoist himself up to the small window by the bed and peer outside at an awkward angle. He was silent for a long time as he searched the grassy area below. "There's more of them now," he told her, his voice interrupted by short pants of effort. "They've seemed to have increased in numbers... collected around the doorway. It's as if they know we're in here, not just reacting to our footsteps."

Salina shivered again. "What are you getting at?"

Dom slumped back onto the bed, his breathing heavy, his face twisting with every jolt of his body. He took a while to answer as he concentrated on managing the pain.

"I think these things can smell us somehow, or hear us. Whatever they are, they've got intelligence – got powers – and I don't quite know if they want to lure us out or starve us out or what. Seems like they have control of the fucking electrics as well. Those things are seriously screwed up."

"But what about Doug's car?" she asked. "What about the way those arm-like things tore out the bottom and grabbed Casey? They could do it to the caravan – to us!"

Dom shook his head. "No. There's a layer of concrete underneath us. Remember?"

"Yeah, I do remember now," she said and slowly nodded her head. "I don't remember actually seeing it, but I know it's there."

"I'd like to see them try and dig their shitty way through that," he continued. There was more life in his voice now, and Salina was beginning to forget how badly he was injured. "There's quite a few inches of concrete down there, so I think it's best if we just stick it out for a while; see who comes along."

Salina jerked as if prodded from a deep sleep. "But... but you've lost blood, Dom. You're badly wounded!" She rushed over to the bedside and began to plump the pillows for his damaged leg, fussing around him as though she had been suddenly reminded of his serious condition. "Dave's going in a minute... going to get help."

"What?" Dom blurted, but his eyes were starting to get too heavy to argue as though he had just been sedated – although he would give up his good leg for a shot of morphine right now.

"We need you to get to a hospital, right? We aren't just going to hang around until someone happens to come along." She finally managed to entice his leg onto the raised cushions, tucking a stray end of bandage back into its rightful place.

"But we can't risk Dave's life until we know what they can do... how far spread they are," Dom said. "You remember the one at Uncle's place? How many more of them are out there?"

"But we won't find out anything just sitting on our arses in here," she yelled with frustration. Tears welled in her eyes soon after and she had to put a fisted hand to her mouth to restrain her trembling lower lip.

"Don't let him go out there... too dangerous..." His words then became a nonsensical mutter as he started to drift again, his energy rapidly draining away.

Salina grabbed a wad of facial tissues by the bedside and tenderly mopped the sweat from his brow, regarding him as her hero – her wounded soldier. Her wounded, _vulnerable_ soldier, and damned to let any more harm come to him.

He was sinking rapidly into sleep when a large banging from the roof above them reverberated through the trailer. She gave a short yelp and snapped her eyes to the ceiling above her head.

Dom's eyelids half opened. "Wha' tha?" he mumbled.

"Think it's only Dave climbing on the roof," she informed him with a forced smile. "I'll just go an' check."

"They don't call me 'Daring Dave' for nothing, you know?" His foot finally pushed away from Phoebe's cupped hands as he hoisted his wiry frame onto the roof of the trailer.

"What can you see up there?" She called out, hands planted on each side of her slender hips.

Dave stood up straight and searched around, holding a hand over his eyes to shade them from the scorching sun. He wondered where he would be right now if this shit had not happened: on the beach, perhaps, lying on his towel with the surf crashing close to his feet; or maybe at some bar with an ice-cold beer in his hand.

"Can see the road a bit better up here," he told her and walked over to the edge on the left side, disappearing from her view. The row of hedges bordering the single, narrow road stretched as far as his eyesight would allow. He could see a few rooftops poking above trees and Dom and Salina's uncle's house in the near distance. But how far was the road from here? Quite a few hundred feet away, that was for sure. He was totally useless when it came to judging distances. Might as well ask the next-door neighbour's cat, he thought hopelessly.

From up here he could see how the dark patches had collected tightly around the proximity of the trailer but became scarce and randomly located the further they spread. They had apparently trapped them, encircling them like an army of attacking ants.

"What can you see?" Phoebe's impatient voice travelled with a slight breeze. He considered telling her that the black things completely surrounded them but chose to keep it to himself – for the time being, anyway.

"Dave?" This time it was Salina's voice, strong and demanding.

"Just planning my escape route, dear," he answered immediately. It was very peaceful up here. The day was so quiet and serene he could almost forget there were ' _things'_ down below. He could happily sit upon this hot tin roof for the rest of the day, waiting for the moment when somebody would finally drive by. Hell, he could even have a cool beer from the fridge while he waited! Anyone could see him from the road. He could wave at them; call for help; flag them down. Someone would surely come by this way soon on their way to the countryside or heading to the village. He also believed that if the whole of the village had been attacked, then somebody from outside must have become worried or curious by now.

"Can you see anything that could help us?"

Salina again. Dave turned and stepped over to the right side, his footfalls clanging and popping on the sheet metal under his feet. He looked down at the two women below who stared back from pallid, upturned faces. "I can see the road clearly, that's the main thing," he said. "And I think I could run it in about..." He looked back over at the hedgerow, his lips pursed as he tried his best to calculate the distance again. "Under a minute, if I sprinted."

Salina glanced in the direction of the road and nodded in agreement. "Can you see anything else from up there? Any sign of life?"

"Not really," he mumbled before wandering back to the other side. "I can see houses further away, but I can't see or hear any people."

"And Uncle's house?"

"Still in the same spot as before, dear."

"No, I mean: what can you see from there? I know it's nearer than the road."

He looked but saw nothing but the rooftop and one side between the obstructing trees. It was closer than the roadside, true, but if they chose to go in that direction, a treacherous route of dips and rises would severely hinder their progress. And who knows what lies beyond that row of trees? A whole garden full of more waiting patches? Apart from the house and the road, everywhere else was just fields.

"Can't really see much of the house from here, sorry."

"Dave?"

He lowered his head and closed his eyes. God, of all the places I could have gone to for a week away and I chose this one, he thought dismally. To think of all the holidays I'd sold to people over the last year – trips to Egypt, package deals to the Greek Islands, fortnights in Thailand... and I've ended up here. Here, in a grubby old caravan and hunted by none other exotic animal than a black patch of man-eating grass. _And what shall we call this new species, ladies and gentlemen? How about Turfus Terribilus? Or Terra firma horribillus?_

Wow! Great time we're having. Wish you were here!

"Dave, can you hear me?"

"Yes, Salina, I can," he yelled back, knowing she would not stop until he did. "And there's nobody about, not even that dog!"

He thought about that dog, the way it just sat there on the grass among those black things. The way it came close to one of them. The way it trotted off to the roadside again without being pursued. Could he have been outside the danger zone? Did the animal sense what was safe ground and what was not? Did it somehow know not to come close when Phoebe called for it? Or maybe dog meat was simply not on the menu.

Dave looked up at the deep-blue zenith of the sky and drew in a large lungful of sweet air. He was ready to go now. As ready as he will ever be. He took one more glance around the surrounding area before shuffling back to the other side with his head lowered, looking like a condemned man going to the gallows.

_God, I wished I had a pair of skis or snowshoes to stop them things from grabbing my feet..._ Dave stopped in mid step, one foot poised in the air. He leaned over the edge and looked down. Phoebe was gone but Salina remained in the same spot, gawping back at him with a quizzical look. He gazed beyond her at the concrete blocks below her feet.

"I think I've got an idea," he said, then smiled.

### Chapter 11 – Danger zone

"Stepping stones, eh?" Salina grinned and nodded her approval at the blocks before her. "Well, you do come up with some good ones from time to time, I'll give you that."

Dave was at her side, leaning against the doorframe and smoking the last Marlboro. He was beaming with confidence now, clearly pleased with himself and his inventive idea. "It should definitely work as long as I don't stay in one spot for too long. I'll take only two: one to stand on while I move the other in front."

Salina stood quietly watching as he descended to the bottom step and lifted one of the top blocks above. There was already a concrete block missing, but at first she could not fathom why. Then she happened to glance at the forlorn wreck of the Chrysler, saw the gaping hole in the windscreen and remembered that Dave had already found a use for one of them. "But don't you think it'll take forever to get to the roadside?" Her eyes squinted at the hedgerow hiding the tarmac road. It seemed so near but she knew how distances could be deceptive.

"It'll take time, of course," he told her, "but it will be worth the effort, don't you think?"

Before she had a chance to answer, Phoebe appeared beside her with a saucepan grasped in one hand and a frying pan in the other. With her tangled hair flowing wildly around her shoulders and her serious eyes fixed directly ahead, she looked like a cook's portrayal of a desperado. She then flung both the pans into the air with expert precision, each one landing squarely onto a dark patch. All three of them stood and looked dumbly at the shiny utensils glinting in the sunlight, a strong contrast to the blackened sludge beneath. Phoebe gave a brisk, satisfied nod for her accomplishment.

"And what was that for?" Salina asked, screwing up her face. "Trying to bash the shit out of them with my frying pans, are you?"

"No, dummy," she told her, never taking her eyes from her missiles lying below. "It's to see if they react to obstacles, such as those concrete blocks. I want to know if they eat anything other than us."

"Well, you could have at least fried some eggs for them first," Dave said before dropping the block in his hands onto the grass. It landed with a dull thud. "There you go. One small step for man..."

Salina shook her head and looked Phoebe up and down. "If they had an appetite for concrete, then why didn't they just munch at them while they've been standing here on the grass all this time?"

Phoebe shot her a scornful look and turned her back on her. "I'm only trying to help," she said, returning to the depths of the trailer. "Sorrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyy!"

Dave smiled up at Salina. "Bless her!" He slid another block from the steps and placed it a few inches before the first. "That should get me started. I'll down a few shots of that vodka before I venture out into the great unknown." He climbed up to the doorway again, having to take a larger stride because of the missing top steps.

"You'll be no good drunk," Salina said as he entered the trailer.

"Only a bit of Dutch courage," he informed her as he charged his glass with a generous serving of vodka, leaving a small mouthful remaining in the bottle.

Twenty minutes later Dave was standing alone at the foot of the partly dismantled steps. He tucked the knife that Phoebe gave him behind a belt he had hastily fastened over his waist; the naked blade flashed reflected sunlight on each twist of his body. Together with his baggy shorts, bright tee shirt and Nikes, he looked like a summer tourist with deadly intent.

The air appeared far too still and unnaturally quiet. No birds twittered in the trees, no buzzing insects laboured in the daisies or dandelions, no distant traffic noises carried in the light breeze. Nothing. It was as if the whole world had deserted them now – smelled the danger and retreated into the hills. Not even a graveyard was this quiet he mused, and then remembered his two missing friends with their bodies somewhere beneath the ground. He shivered and nervously looked down into the shady area of the grass around his feet. No sign of any black things here. Not yet, anyway.

Salina had brought her brother water while Dave was preparing himself, found that he was asleep and quietly left the room. She was glad that he was sleeping. It would be better for him if he were not awake to excite or distress himself during Dave's expedition across the infested grass. She managed to catch Dave before he dropped his foot onto the first stepping-stone, threw her arms around him and squeezed him in a strong hug. "Be careful," she told him with a weak smile, and Dave was taken aback when he saw genuine tears welling in her eyes. He tweaked her right cheek. "Of course, my dear. I'm Daring Dave, remember?"

Phoebe also descended the steps to give him a quick, tender kiss on the lips, surprising him into a blush, and wished him good luck. He folded his glasses and shoved them into his back pocket before placing his Ray-Bans over his eyes. "Got to look cool," he said.

Salina smiled warmly back at him; she could not help but admire his high spirits in the face of danger. "You look cool as a cucumber," she returned.

He drew a deep breath. "Well ladies and... _gentle-ladies_ ... here I go!" Dave Watson stepped onto the front block, turned and picked up the one behind. The two spectators above watched intently, keeping a vigilant eye for any new dark swelling as he placed each block before the other in steady succession, stepping from one to the other. One step... two steps... and he was well past the door. Three steps... four steps... five steps – his lower back muscles were warming to the effort now – and he was at the back end of the trailer. He stopped, turned and looked at the hedgerow at the edge of the field. He then looked back at his two friends who stared at him with hushed attention. Boy, he thought, wiping away sweat from his eyes, this is going to be a long trip.

"So far, so good," he called to them. His audience instantly forced a smile and gave a little wave. Dave continued. Six steps... seven steps... eight steps... nine... and he could see the back window of the room where Dom was sleeping. Ten steps... Eleven... He stopped again to catch his breath. The blocks were not that heavy, but it was the turning, bending, straightening, turning, bending that caused his lower back to burn and his heart and lungs to labour. The direct heat of the sun, now creeping its way westwards, radiated cruelly upon his scantly clad body as he moved block before block.

"You okay?" Salina yelled. She had her back to Phoebe who was peeking behind her shoulders, obviously on tiptoes.

"Never been better," he lied. "Could you do me a favour and bring me a beer?" Salina poked her tongue out at him. "Didn't think so," he muttered and crouched down for the trailing block. Twelve steps... Thirteen (unlucky for some) steps... Fourteen...

He was at his twenty-fifth step when he stopped again. He could see he was making some kind of progress but it would take a very long and tiring time. He began throwing the blocks a little further to speed things up, having to stride to the successive block. He quickly abandoned this idea after realising he could not reach the trailing one without stepping onto the grass to retrieve it. The skin on the tips of his fingers were now becoming raw by the roughness of the stony concrete, his hands not accustomed to physical work of this type – of any type. And the roadside never looked any closer. Realising that he was at or past the area where the dog had sat not long before, Dave began to wonder if he could possibly risk losing the blocks altogether and going by foot from here onwards. Looking around he could clearly see that the black patches here were few and far between. They were also smaller, the nearest one to him being no bigger than a doily. Dave smiled and raised his head towards his two friends.

"Think I can leg-it from here, now," he called. The trailer still looked absurdly close from where he stood, as if his efforts had taken him no further than a few measly feet. "I think this is where that dog was sitting. It should take me no time to run to the road."

"Okay. Well done!" Salina waved at him again enthusiastically. Phoebe continued to remain silent, although her body language told him she was more nervous than he was.

Dave stood up straight and stretched, feeling his aching upper and lower back muscles unlocking and looked behind him at the hedgerow. Paradoxically, it appeared closer than the trailer was, although its mass and length must be the reason. There were no more fresh black marks swelling around him – now or at any time during his trek. He let off a deep sigh. This is it, he thought as he prepared himself to run.

For some unnecessary reason, probably due to the insignificant but clearly present black spot close to where he stood, Dave decided to continue using his stepping-stones for a few more feet. He crouched, grasped each upper corner of the trailing block with the same procedure as before and lifted. It would not come. Dave pulled again, harder. Still, the block would not budge.

"What the fuck is wrong with this?" he muttered before pulling as hard as he could. The concrete brick finally came away from the ground with a loud sucking noise. At first Dave thought the blackness immediately beneath was merely its shadow, but as he raised it higher, the momentum driving it above his head and sending him tumbling backwards, he had time to realize he was gravely mistaken. In that vital second before the impetus of the block pulled him off balance, he had time to register movement from below the cracked surface of the earth. The dark patch had mimicked the exact width and length of the brick as it hid beneath its base, but after being exposed it began to swell rapidly in every direction.

Dave twisted his body as he fell with every intention of landing onto his hands, but probably owing to surprise he unwittingly (or dim-wittedly) let go of the brick as he automatically reached out for his contact with the earth. He landed on his hands as intended, but the block's solid corner came immediately down onto the base of his skull an inch above the cervical vertebrae, knocking him to the ground. A small noise, "ooooffff," escaped from his lips as his sunglasses flew from his face. Stars burst before his eyes and the world greyed-out just before he landed face-down into the grass.

"Dave!" Salina was already making her way down the uneven steps. Making no attempt to be mindful of the patches, she hurried alongside the trailer to the back end where she stood in a fixed stance, poised between running and staying. Phoebe followed slowly after her, executing more caution on each step upon the grass.

From where she had been standing at the doorway and the position she was now, Salina could not see any sign of the black patch that had crept up on Dave. She strained her eyes to see, but so far she could only assume that he had simply lost his balance and hit his head.

"Dave, what's happening?"

There was no answer.

"Oh, God! Phoebe, did you see anything?" There was real panic in her voice now and she was inching forward again.

"No, I just saw him fall," Phoebe told her.

"Are you okay?" Still no answer. "Phoebe, you stay there," she commanded and slowly advanced in Dave's direction.

When Dave opened his eyes again, his skull throbbing and tiny motes pulsating before his vision, he found himself staring into a mass of blackened grass. He must have been out for only a few seconds but it was long enough for the dark thing to develop beneath his face. Fortunately, the stench – a rotting smell of carrion – had been the principal factor that drew him back to consciousness. When his mind finally cleared enough to acknowledge the dire situation he was in, all he could do was freeze.

"Dave, what's happening?" It was Salina's voice calling from somewhere far, far away. Below him, somewhere within the strange, foul smelling blackness something stirred. There was a quick glimpse of what looked like a finger or moving root as the soil before his sweat-dripping nose broke open.

"Dave, you okay?"

_I'm going to die now_ , he thought somewhat dispassionately. _Something will reach out at_ _any moment and pull me head first into that blackness._

"Dave!"

Never before had he been so numbed, so immobilised by the concept of his death as he was now, but somehow he was up and on his knees faster than a bolt of lightning. A split second later, something punched through the putrid soil at the exact spot where his face had been lying. It was in the open for a further second before withdrawing back into the rent in the earth. But in that short moment, Dave saw something organic-looking, something that had a combination of bird-like talons and shorter, more humanoid fingers upon some kind of gnarled hand.

The sight of this thing prompted him to his feet and he took a step backwards and put his foot into the other patch that had started beneath the concrete block. A further step back towards the trailer and he became aware that his left Nike was not coming with him. He looked down. What his eyes relayed to his brain caused a fresh bolt of terror and adrenalin to surge through his body like electrical current. He tried to run backwards and pull his trapped foot simultaneously, overbalancing himself and spilling onto his backside. His foot remained stuck in the slime that was once dry grass and he witnessed his trainer sinking into the blackness as something pulled from below. Before he yanked as hard as he could, he had time to think: 'if it came to it, would I be able to repeat what Dom did?'

At first, the Nike began to slip easily from his foot but caught on the ball of his heel, the tightly tied laces preventing any further movement. For one horrifying second he believed it would not come, but the continual pressure exerted on the shoe forced it to give up its hostage and allow his foot to slide out the rest of the way.

Once he was free, Dave shuffled on his butt across the grass, retreating in the direction he just came, never taking his eyes from the patch where he narrowly escaped. He was panting in short and rapid gasps as his hands and legs propelled him backwards, crawling like a crab. If he had taken the time to peep behind his shoulder, he would have realized he was advancing straight into a freshly swelling, blackening mass. But he continued on, oblivious to the fact, eager to put as much distance from his previous captor as possible.

A hand grasped him and he froze in his tracks, his muscles becoming instantly rigid. A scream wedged tightly inside his throat as strong fingers clasped around his left shoulder, nails digging cruelly into flesh now too numb to sense pain. His mind screamed at him _the knife in your belt, the knife, the knife,_ but he could move his hands no more than he could fly to the moon. A large shadow spilled across him, blotting the rays of the sun. All Dave could manage to do now was squeeze his eyes shut and wait for the moment when some _thing_ dragged him away to his death.

"Come on, let's go!" It was a woman's voice.

"What?" Confusion ricocheted within his mind like a firework released in a confined room. He could not understand why the thing had sounded exactly like Salina. Dave's eyelids sprung open to see the shadow-shape of a woman falling to his right.

"Stand up, we've got to get out of here!"

"Sal?"

"Come on, for fuck's sake!"

Dave tried to stand but his legs had seemed to have abandoned him, betrayed him at his moment of need. Salina had slid a hand beneath his arm and was attempting to yank him single-handedly from the earth. Another glance ahead soon got Dave motivated again when he noticed that the smaller black patches around them were bursting back into life, coalescing to form one giant shape upon the ground. It was swelling with incredible speed now, seeping through each blade of grass, staining the green fibres a deep grey.

Dave was back on his feet before he realized he had even moved. Salina was now pulling him forward in the direction of the road, hollering into his ear. "Come on: let's run now while we've got the chance!"

But he resisted. His huge eyes were transfixed upon the dark thing that drifted towards them like a large cloud's shadow passing over the plains. "No..."

"Come on," she urged, pulling at the short sleeve of his tee shirt harder until it stretched and threatened to tear. "Or I'll leave you here and go myself!" She was not looking where she was stepping but stared directly into the eyes of her friend. The giant patch was now a step away and Salina's bare foot hovered above it in a hesitant pose, her shadow lost within the darkness. Dave was shaking his head, the words of warning lost somewhere within his throat.

"You go back, then, but I'm going on to get help." She finally let go of Dave's shirt and completed the backwards step. Her face, previously reflecting the determination and excitement she felt, twisted and froze in a grimace when her bare skin squelched into something icy cold. There was no need to glance down. Her eyes clouded over with instant realization and her entire body seemed to visibly slump with defeat. With a quivering mouth, she eventually spoke her two summarizing words in an absurdly calm voice. "Oh, shit."

In an instant, Dave was picturing those unearthly hands grasping his friend's ankles and wedging her up to her waist within the earth. There would be enough time for her to reflect on the torturous agony she would soon endure before she squeezed through a small opening as Doug had been, compressing her abdomen and forcing organs upwards and outwards through every available orifice. Her eyes would bulge and her tongue would protrude obscenely from a mouth that projected blood, bile and innards. She would gurgle her last scream before the foul soil silenced her forever, stretching out her arms for him to save her before being tugged deep into the blackness....

But Dave grabbed her arm and pulled hard. She fell into him and he tottered in an arabesque-like stance before falling back onto the grass with Salina following. She landed on top of him in a lover's embrace, knocked the wind from his lungs and rolled onto her back.

"No!"

They could both hear Phoebe's voice and it was close. Footfalls reverberated through the hard ground, and a few seconds later she appeared above them, her face a portrait of panic. "Get up, get up..." she repeated. Salina rolled onto her knees and scrambled forward that way, clambering on all fours like a dog. Phoebe was now attempting to pull Dave's weight from his supine position and he gradually found his feet again, feeling the actual earth moving, boiling beneath the area where he stood. Together they sprinted blindly towards the trailer and a moment later the blackness swallowed the grass where they had just been standing.

Salina was also on her feet and ahead of them, but she suddenly stopped and turned towards her two advancing friends. They were upon her within seconds.

"Don't stop," Dave commanded. "Get up there, quickly!"

"But if I run now, I can get to the road," she started, but Dave grabbed her by the arm and took her with him, focusing his attention on the trailer ahead.

"Are you an idiot," he asked her through clenched teeth. "Look behind us, we're surrounded."

The many patches encompassing the trailer were also merging and would soon entrap them. They were each fully aware they would be completely cut off at every angle if they did not make it back within a few seconds. As they neared the trailer, they automatically formed a single line and kept close to the right side wall with Dave in front and Salina at the end. When they passed beneath the bedroom window, Phoebe caught a fleeting glimpse of Dom's pale, anxious face as he peered out at them. All three clambered up what remained of the steps, piled in through the doorway and slammed the door shut.

Outside, the sun continued to sink slowly towards the west in its eternal journey across the sky. It was now four-fifteen in the afternoon.

### Chapter 12 – Second night

"You should have just run, Dave." Salina was calling from the master bedroom as she held a tumbler to her brother's lips. He gulped eagerly; water escaped down his chin and pooled into the notch of his throat. She was willing to give him vodka if she had not used the last as an antiseptic for his replacement gauze. After all, it was the pain management she was concerned about now, knowing in the far reaches of her mind that rescue and proper medical attention now seemed to be just a hopeful and debatable possibility.

"Why you couldn't have just sprinted instead of pissing about with those bricks –" She quickly pulled the glass from Dom's mouth when he began to cough, spraying droplets of water across the bed sheet.

"But you agreed to it, too!" It was Phoebe who answered. Her voice, clear and chastising, came from the far end where she sat beside Dave. He was currently preoccupied with preparing his spliff, picking out strands of rolling tobacco from his pouch and laying it neatly upon the cigarette paper. Perched upon the bridge of his nose, the twisted frame of his glasses that had been previously wedged within his back pocket sat at a slight askew angle. He was also barefooted, his remaining, discarded shoe now sitting next to Salina's lonely trainer. Maybe together they could make a pair.

She returned the glass to Dom's lips but he shook his head and motioned it away with one bandaged hand.

"Well, whatever," she mumbled so that no one outside the bedroom could hear, not willing to admit that Phoebe's words were true. She lowered her brother's head back onto the mattress where he fidgeted uncomfortably, clearly suffering the pain now. "Because in about five minutes, I'm going to run straight out that door and get you some _real_ help."

"Don't be stupid, sis. You must wait 'til the morning at least." Dom's voice was weak but demanding. His sister opened her mouth to protest but he continued stubbornly. "Those black things seem to shrink after a while. It's your only chance to get out of here in one piece, so wait."

Salina was clearly trying to hold back tears. They were partly due to frustration, but mainly because she could not bear to see her brother in so much pain. "But I can't stand to see you suffering like this."

"What good are you to me dead, eh?" He managed to coax a weak but bona fide smile. "I'll be okay for the night, honest."

She returned his smile but it was undeniably forced.

The unmistakable smell of marijuana seeped into the room and Dom, on the brink of trauma-induced sleep, wrinkled his nose at the aroma. His eyelids fluttered open with a new awareness and he locked eyes with his sister.

"Sis?"

Salina reached out and brushed sweat-soaked hair from his forehead. "Bro?"

"You think you can go get me a doobie?"

The refrigerator light spilled over Phoebe's feet as she peered inside, squatting with her nose almost touching the top shelf. They mentioned food in perfunctory conversation, almost in passing, but the word itself suddenly conjured up images that actively reminded their stomachs that they had eaten little or no food since the day began. Audible stomach rumblings, as if an organic switch had been thrown, diverted their attentions to a one-way junction of thinking until they quenched their newly found hunger.

"We've got bread, cheese, spread and jam," she said. She turned and looked at her two friends who sat at opposite ends of the lounge seats, both looking glumly back at her. "Anyone for a sandwich, because that's about all there is."

They ate most of the food they brought with them last night: sausages, eggs, beans and bacon – the greasy frying pan, lying on the draining board amongst the clutter, the clear evidence of this.

Dave sat silently, considering, and then said, "Just a cheese sandwich, please. Shame we can't phone for a pizza."

"Sal? What you want?"

A half-hearted shake of her head disturbed her fixed, preoccupied look, assuring everyone that she was not made of wax. "I feel too sick to eat," she eventually replied. "You two go ahead."

As Phoebe prepared the sandwiches, – cheese for Dave and a generous helping of blackcurrant jam for herself – a sound of distant sirens drifted from the open window above the sink. She stopped and cocked an ear, convinced it was only in her imagination. Was it...? Yes, it was. Drifting in and out upon the light breeze, oscillating from no definable direction, was the unmistakable sound of emergency sirens.

"You hear that?" Her tone was sharp but not excited.

Dave's voice was doleful, apathetic. "Hear what?"

"Sirens, like police cars –"

Her two companions were both immediately on their feet as though an electric current had passed through their seats.

"Where?" they both asked together.

Salina moved forward, towards Phoebe. "I can't hear them."

"You will have to listen hard because they seem far away," she told her.

The room fell completely silent. The only sound was Dave's heavy breathing.

Time passed and Salina started to shake her head doubtfully. "Must be –" she began, and then a high but faint trill rang through the air. "I heard it, I heard it just then," she called with excitement. "They're far away, but maybe they're headed this way – to the village!"

Phoebe swung the door open wide. When she timorously poked her head outside, the sight of the patches greeted her. From here, she could clearly see the swollen masses had been diminishing over the past two hours. She listened intently, blocking the alien things below from her mind while she concentrated.

Salina was doing the same from behind her. "Can you –?"

"Shush, I'm trying to hear which direction they're coming from!"

"But they could sound like they're coming from anywhere around here," She explained, "with all the hills and valleys and all."

Phoebe stood and listened for a further three minutes. "I think I can hear two or three of them... Hey, Dave, maybe you could climb back on the roof again," she said, but then realized she was talking to herself. She remained there for a further two before retreating inside with the others, feeling a helpless mixture of disappointment and defeat when the resonating click of the lock sounded too much like a prison door.

Dave was muttering to Salina at the far end of the trailer. "Do you think it could be related to this?"

Salina shrugged her shoulders "Oh, who knows!" There was frustration expressed in every word and movement she made. "How could we know anything stuck in here?"

Phoebe joined them. "Well, if this thing is more widespread, then it would definitely be on T.V."

They all swivelled their heads and stared curiously at the up-turned television set upon the low table as though it had just materialised from thin air. Its dormant curved screen distorted their reflections, making them each look deformed and dwarf-like.

"Did that thing not work?" Dave eventually asked.

"Not really," Phoebe replied. "I could only get static, and it kept switching itself on and off, remember?"

He did remember. He pulled a curious face and stepped over to the set. Its base thumped back upon the table's dull surface when he rolled it carefully off its curved back. It sat in its upright position looking back at them with one big, dead eye.

"Well, there's only one sure way to find out if it still works," he said and switched it on. Static snow roared once more as the screen burst light into the room. He twisted the tuning dial – the set was clearly a dinosaur – and fiddled with the wire loop antenna but got the same result as Phoebe. He banged its side with the palm of one hand as a last resort, mainly because that is what everyone seemed to do when machines and electrical gadgets did not work. "It's probably because it's old and got damp through lack of use."

"At least it's not flickering on and off like before," Phoebe said and then sighed. "Can't get no signal on our phones, can't get no reception on the T.V..." She sat down hard upon the seat opposite and planted her sullen face in her hands, elbows on her knees. "Can't do anything in this stupid, fucking place!"

"Well, why don't you go outside and sunbathe?" Dave sneered. She threw him a look that could have knocked him stone dead.

Salina strolled to the refrigerator. Inside there were five cans of beer remaining. She hated the taste of beer, but right now even white spirit would suffice. She pulled one out and cracked it open. It tasted like heaven on the back of her dry throat.

"It's doing it again." Dave's oddly nonchalant voice drifted above the sound of fluctuating static as the T.V resumed its previous glitch of switching off and on.

The noise had a rhythmic, almost hypnotic quality as its screen pulsated between light and dark.

"Fucking thing's crazy, turn it off!" Phoebe bellowed at him. Dave banged it again, harder, but it had no further effect.

On and off, on and off, on and off...

Salina drained the can of its contents, reached back into the fridge, relishing in its radiated coolness and cracked open another.

There was a sudden loud pop of breaking glass, a short scream from Phoebe and a bright flare of light from the end of the trailer. Salina almost dropped the new can onto the floor when she wheeled round, still in her crouching position. Dave had fallen back against the seat with wide eyes peering behind his glasses – glasses that reflected flames. Phoebe was now standing, pulling her lush hair into a bunch with both hands.

The television was on fire.

"What do you want me to do?" Phoebe near screamed.

Dave was soon on his feet again, but he just stood in front of the burning set with his arms spread out on each side looking like he was about to catch a giant ball.

"I dunno... throw some water on it!"

Salina stood and turned to the sink, looking for a container for water when Phoebe's words stopped her.

"Don't be stupid, it's electric!"

"Well, what are we meant to do?" Dave asked in a panic, but answered his own question by braving the fire and pulling the plug free from its socket. The flames were reaching higher as the fire feasted upon the television set, eating away at the components inside and defecating black smoke. Glass popped and shot across the room like tiny, glowing meteors.

"Do something," Phoebe cried. She was still clutching her hair.

Dave, no longer thinking but acting on impulse, grabbed the T.V set on both sides and lifted its burning bulk from the table. With the set held out at arms length he rushed forward, feeling the heat radiating upon his face, blinded by its light. The trailing power lead whipped from side to side, clacking against the fixed furniture as he ran.

"Open the door," he ordered Salina, but she was already there, swinging the door outwards, allowing the fresh air to suck inside. Dave charged past her, almost knocking her from her feet and ducked through the doorway. Once outside, he raised the sizzling fireball above his head and hurled it onto the grass below where it landed smack on top of a black patch, close to one of Phoebe's pans. It rolled once before coming to rest with its shattered screen facing the ground. The smoke thinned almost immediately as the flames suffocated within its charred carcass.

Dave lifted one shaky hand out before him, turned his wrist, raised his middle finger and flipped the patches the bird. "Eat this, you mothers!" he told them before marching defiantly back inside.

An acrid smell of smoke continued to linger within the stuffy trailer. Even with the many windows opened to full capacity, the breeze, now only fractionally stronger since the sun's decent to the western hills, had little effect of clearing the air.

That evening Phoebe and Dave sat close together on the lounge seat, smoking, talking, picking at what food remained from the fridge. Mostly they sat in silence, reflecting on the day's chaos, their minds still unable to accept what should only be one hell of an explicit nightmare.

Salina had retired to Dom's bedroom for the night. She had showered quickly, her nakedness making her feel vulnerable, her cruel imagination picturing inhuman hands tearing through the thin floor and grasping her bare legs, dragging her screaming to her doom as they did to Casey within the car. She cried again in the shower, feeling somehow ashamed. Her stomach had rumbled but even the thought of food made her nauseous.

Now she lay on the bed next to her brother, the light fading outside the closed curtains. She had given him more painkillers, (for whatever good they could do) made him as comfortable as she possibly could, wiped his sweating forehead and straightened his contorted body. He had tried to urinate in a dust-coated vase she found on the dressing table, but he could only produce a measly trickle.

Throughout the whole night he was feverish and restless, and even during the intervals he slept he muttered and cried out in the dark. Salina huddled up close to him and held his hand, feeling the dampness of his sweat on the sheets but not caring for herself. Before she also drifted into an uneasy sleep, Salina silently promised Dom that she would save him from this place, save him from the things that waited outside.

First thing tomorrow morning she would go.

At just past nine the sun dipped below the hills, leaving the succeeding darkness to blend with the patches until they became an indiscriminate blur. The lights in the living area blazed until almost midnight when Dave and Phoebe, with weary eyes, decided to catch as much sleep as their jumpy minds would allow.

Dave had offered Phoebe the choice of the smaller bedroom but she wanted – needed – to be close to somebody. They both chose to sleep in the living room and, after both showering and changing, had switched off the light and settled on opposite seats. It was not long until Phoebe sneaked from her bed and nestled awkwardly but not uncomfortable next to Dave, wrapping her arms around him, feeling his warmth. They lay together that way for a long time, resting in silence, secure in each other's company like two frightened children. Eventually, Phoebe's low voice broke the stillness.

"What's the plan for tomorrow, do you know?" She felt more than saw Dave's head shake from left to right on the cushion.

"Who knows what tomorrow brings," he whispered. "One of us has got to get us out of here, if nobody comes to save us first."

"Do you think someone will come and help us?"

He never answered.

Moments later, they made love, needing the reassuring tenderness of their touch more than the sex itself. Dave slipped into a deep sleep soon after, his limbs twitching as he drifted.

Phoebe rolled onto her side and tried to sleep, but her mind taunted her with flashback images of the day, the scenes replaying like an advert for a horror movie. Firstly, she saw the morning's argument between Casey and Doug, followed by the sight of Doug's body slipping gradually into the ground as she stood helplessly in the doorway. Then she saw Dom on top of the Chrysler's roof with Casey trapped and screaming inside. Then the moment when she helped to carry Dom inside the trailer and seeing the blood pump from the place his foot should have been; the frightened-looking dog walking towards her; helping Dave from the ground as the patches grew around them. The T.V burning...

She now felt sick. Her eyes rolled in the dark, picking out vague shapes of unknown objects. She attempted to replace her previous images with good or mundane ones; tried to banish the nightmarish visions that invaded her mind, haunting her like malicious ghosts.

Phoebe shifted once more. She closed her eyes, opened them again. Dave started to snore. It was going to be a long night.

A cool breeze sighed through an open window and she thought of those black 'things' only a few feet away. She shivered and drew closer to Dave. Somewhere outside an owl hooted to the ears of the night. Eventually her eyes slowly closed and, before she knew, she was drifting into the tunnel of sleep.

It was good to see Uncle and Auntie again. This year had been filled with too much heartache, too many worries and far too much misery at home, and just being back here again, at her little haven of leisure, pleasure and happy memories, was like refreshment for the soul.

She had just found them both here on their front lawn, standing silently facing the house. Only the sound of the bees humming and the birds sounding their song in the trees could be heard. It looks like she had just caught them coming back from the shops, as Auntie Annie had a plastic shopping bag in one hand. It dangled barely above the grass on the end of one limp arm, the top of a milk bottle poking above the edge like a peeping child. Salina was tempted to call out to them, their names already poised on her lips but she wanted to wait awhile, wanted to watch them go about their business, doing the things that Auntie and Uncle always did.

The old man began to move slowly forward, his short shadow pushing before him. Auntie Annie followed soon after, shuffling on arthritic feet. When her uncle stopped just before the house her aunt also stopped, waiting and watching a few yards behind as though for security clearance in a booby-trapped danger zone. Salina's eyes became narrow slots when she strained to see what Uncle was looking at as he stood completely inert, staring at the ground by his feet. Below him, she could see only grass stained dark by his looming shadow, but as she observed with more attention, she began to realize that this shadow grew darker, larger, as if expanding independently. This strange, oily mark was what caught his interest, and he stood transfixed as if hypnotised by its grotesque appearance.

Uncle Dick eventually turned his head enough to glance at his wife before returning to the black mark again, clearly not seeing Salina as though she was not there at all.

"Uncle?" she called, but only soundless air spilled from her mouth. The sounds of the surrounding wildlife had suddenly stopped as if they, too, were watching when he stepped onto the dark patch. Salina could not discern what this thing was, but the creeping feeling of revulsion and fear trickling like icy water through her body was warning enough that it was bad.

"No Uncle, don't," she bellowed, but her voice was like a weak sigh of a breeze.

The old man turned to face his wife again, his eyes intently focused, still never acknowledging his niece's presence. He lifted one arm to the sky as if to wave goodbye before the earth opened up and swallowed him whole like quicksand. His face was the last thing she saw before the darkness consumed him, and she had enough time to catch the shock within his eyes.

"No!" Salina screamed, but again the word froze on her lips and went no further. She broke out into a run, her feet thumping upon the earth, needing to reach her aunt before that black pit also took her. But Auntie was already shuffling forwards again, towards the patch where Uncle had vanished. She dropped the shopping bag onto the ground as she moved, leaving it in a heap under the sunlight. She reached the edge of the blackened mark and looked down – looked for Uncle – her face contorted with confusion. Salina ran and ran, pushing herself to go faster, but it appeared she had not moved a single inch.

"Auntie, don't go near it... Keep away!" But she could not hear her words of warning. She slowly bent forward, her upper body leaning over the strange blackness, her long dress hitching above her ankles as she looked.

"Auntie, no!"

The old woman was staring as though mesmerized, her face coming ever closer, spectacles slipping down the bridge of her nose.

"Auntie, please stop!"

Salina's legs were burning with the effort but she could still move no closer, the sound of her voice only within her own ears.

"Auntie, no!"

She bent over almost double, dangerously near to the surface of the patch.

"Auntie... Don't do it. Don't do it!"

Strange, grey coloured arms burst from the tar-like mass and reached for the woman, grasping her firstly by the neck of her blouse, then by her throat.

"No, Auntie... No, no, no...!"

The gnarled hands pulled her headfirst into the pit, her legs protruding skyward as she slipped downwards, her dress spilling around the patch in a rough circle.

"Auntie... Auntie..."

"Auntie!"

"Salina's arm lashed out and almost hit her sleeping brother in the face, managing only to leave an imprint of her fist on his pillow. Dom stirred once and continued to mutter his occasional meaningless words.

Bright moonlight entering through a gap in the bedroom curtains made objects appear to glow within its strange radiance. Salina's nervous eyes danced rapidly from corner to corner as recognition and comprehension gradually returned. The image of the nightmare slowly faded like an old photograph, although its impression remained as a deep chill of dread in her bones.

Eventually she relaxed back against the mattress with the sweat now cold upon her flesh. The sound of a light breeze sighed through the open window and puffed against the drawn curtains as her eyelids fluttered and lightly closed. With her mind dizzy with weariness, Salina began to drift steadily back to sleep, the memory of the disastrous day shrinking slowly and reluctantly like a dying flame.

Outside, the darkness of night continued as the occupants of the trailer slept, encased within a box of steel, the locked and bolted door the only boundary from the world beyond.

Underneath the strength of the moonlight, something stirred. Soil began to break open and shift. Talon-like fingers, not yet fully formed, tore away at the earth, eager to be rid of the entombing blackness.

The pit where Doug King had been sucked into broke easily away. Chunks of turf spewed into the air like an erupting miniature volcano as hands punched its way upwards and pointed to the sky, reaching for the outside world – reaching for freedom. Two malformed arms then stretched across the ground where its fingers clutched at tufts of grass, pulling its humanoid form outwards into the night. It slopped onto its bloated belly as it briefly rested, eyes gradually focusing on its new surroundings, its hairless head scraping from left to right across the earth as it curiously searched. It sought the shadows beneath the trailer.

Thin, transparent skin stretched over its grey muscles as its rudimental limbs began to hoist its weight across the grass. The joints of its undeveloped bones clicked and crunched together when it half crawled, half slithered behind the concrete block steps, eager to be within the shelter of darkness again. A strange, shrill cry of triumph passed what looked like lips and it coiled itself like a reptile underneath the trailer's structures and rested.

And waited.

### Chapter 13 – Stripy

Dawn's fiery light burnt the night's blackened sky until, by about six a.m, it faded into a deep, lush blue. The sun's heat began early, but a breeze from the north advanced before ink-coloured clouds that threatened thunder.

Phoebe's eyes opened first, her mind instantly alert and her nerves already edgy from disturbing dreams. She sat upright next to Dave who continued to sleep soundly, although his rapid eye movements and incomprehensible muttering indicated that his night's rest was also far from peaceful.

Hair was stuck to her forehead with sweat and she swept it away with a grimace, the clothes she wore from the night's sleep feeling as though she had not changed them for a year. The moment she stood to stretch out her aching back Dave stirred and opened his eyes, blinking away the dream from his head.

"Why, who is it...? What's that moving?" he mumbled, confused in his sudden waking, although recognition of his surroundings rapidly fell into place. At first he looked relieved to be free of his bad dream, but when he remembered the predicament they were in within the real world, his face sunk into one of extreme disappointment.

"It's only me, stupid," she told him, hitching up her shorts that managed to work free of her hips in the night. She remembered their lovemaking before they slept and could not decide whether she should feel happy or displeased. But whatever she felt, Phoebe knew that something was going to happen this morning and a strong gut feeling told her that it was somehow going to be more bad than good.

"What time is it?" Dave asked as he ran a hand through his hair. He yawned and Phoebe had to yawn with him.

"Don't know," she said, searching for her phone before remembering she had thrown it on the floor somewhere during one of her tantrums. "Probably about eight, maybe nine o'clock."

Dave pulled the nearest curtain open. Strong sunlight shone directly in his eyes and he squeezed them tightly shut, holding a protective hand up before his face. He fumbled for his glasses, put them on and wandered across to the breakfast table where he had left his phone, wanting to know the correct time but finding only a dark, blank screen. "Phone's fucking dead again," he said with a sigh. "What a surprise."

Salina's rumbling stomach drew her from her dreams. Her sleep-caked eyes slowly opened and, for one terrible moment, she believed that her brother was lying dead beside her. Dom's eyes were staring blankly back and his tongue protruded slightly from one corner of his mouth. Only when he blinked did he reassure his sister that he was still in the land of the living.

"Are you okay?" Salina asked, stretching out a hand and stroking his forehead. His skin was cold even though he was sweating.

"Feel like absolute shit," he hoarsely replied, but managed to coax something like a smile.

"That makes two of us, then." Salina slipped slowly off the bed, parted the curtains and peered outside, squinting due to the brightness. From this window the patches seemed very small, and for one moment she imagined that they were not there at all.

After awhile she pulled away from the outside view and turned to Dom. "I'm going on a little trip this morning, and everything will be okay."

"Sis..." Dom tried to sit up but felt a bolt of pain shoot up from his left leg. He slumped back onto the mattress with a frustrated sigh. "Can't Dave go instead? I just think he would be quicker across the field."

His sister looked down at him with a look of puzzlement on her face. "But he tried that yesterday, didn't he? And he fucked it up."

"But the same could happen to you!"

"He's alive, though, isn't he?" Salina brought what remained of the water to Dom and he drained it in one gulp. "But I'm going to do it my way this time."

When the bedroom door clicked open, both Dave and Phoebe turned to look at her. The first thing she noticed was their pallid faces and the way their eyes still contained that wide, haunted look. Did her own features replicate what now seemed to be her two friend's permanent expression?

"Morning, all," Salina brightly greeted before unlocking the main door and swinging it fully open. Dave slid to the edge of his seat as though in anticipation of some terrible creature that would pounce through the doorway. Instead, the summer heat and the morning air, sweet and fresh upon a hint of a breeze, advanced inwards like a welcomed guest. "It's a glorious day out there and I'm going to take a little trip."

Phoebe and Dave, wearing equal looks of curiosity, remained silent as they watched Salina step over to the fridge and rummage amongst the scant contents inside. She picked out the last of the bread – two slices of crusty ends – and the pot of jam. "Need a little nourishment before I go."

"Last meal of the condemned?" Dave finally said, and his words earned him a scornful look from Salina. "Sorry," he muttered and shamefully lowered his head, "that was a little uncalled-for." He then looked up at her again with eyebrows raised. "Hey, do you want company when you go?"

"No, I want you both to stay here and look after Dom while I'm away," Salina replied through a mouthful of bread. She gulped the remainder of the sandwich in one go and picked out a used glass from the sink. As she began to rinse it, her eyes happened upon the butcher's knife Dave took with him on yesterday's failed escape lying on the draining board amongst the clutter of dishes and cutlery. She picked it up and turned to her friends.

"But you can do me a small favour, though." Her smile appeared almost wicked as her eyes studied the knife held before her. "Can you get that broom from the cupboard and take the head off?"

The other two looked at her, then at each other, slightly bemused.

"I'm gonna make myself a little weapon," she told them.

The spear was constructed – the knife secured to the end of the broom handle with Gaffa Tape that Salina's father used for quick repairs, found in the cupboard beneath the sink. She tried its strength and effectiveness on one of the cushioned breakfast table seats; dust and stuffing puffed into the air as the blade was stuck numerously into the soft material. Dave and Phoebe watched timidly from a distance as though expecting to be next on her target list.

With a final smile of satisfaction, Salina propped the weapon by the open door and stood next to it within a shaft of sunlight, hands upon hips, looking somewhat like a warrior about to go to war. "That should do it. Now I'm all set!"

Dave studied her and gave her a look of non-amusement. "The most dangerous thing you've ever handled was a bath bomb," he told her before gazing out of the window.

Salina's confidence was now at its highest and her blithe mannerism, although sounding feigned, was by no means a false reflection of her inner emotions.

"Wait a minute... Are you going _now?_ " There was sudden concern in Dave's voice as realisation set in. He stepped over to Salina who just nodded positively back at him. "Right now?"

"Right now," she confirmed before reaching for the jam pot and eating directly from the jar using her fingers. "No more pissing around. There's nothing else to keep me from going now, is there? No conference meeting or tea party scheduled today?"

"But your feet," Phoebe said, pointing to her two bare feet as though she needed further indication. "Don't you want to put some shoes on first?"

Salina shrugged her shoulders. "Not got anything else other than two pairs of high-heels." She then turned her back on them and began to examine her escape route outside, one hand touching the shaft of the homemade spear. "I'm gonna stab anything that dares to... Oh, shit!"

Dave, reacting to her last two words, peered over her shoulder. "Now what?"

"It's that bastard dog again, and if it makes those black things grow big I'll bloody-well kill it myself before they get a chance!"

"Where?" Phoebe called out excitedly and ran from the far end to the doorway. "Let me see."

The collie was standing motionlessly about twenty feet from the steps with its dark and jittery eyes staring directly back at them. Its leash, now darkly stained with dirt, had managed to wrap around its front right leg. One single patch lurked menacingly yet lifelessly behind its hindquarters.

"Stripy!" Phoebe yelled and pushed her way through the small collected crowd.

"Don't encourage it," Salina yelled back almost directly into her ear. "Shoo it away, or something!"

But the dog simply remained standing, unmoving except for its tail that now wagged excitedly, sweeping the grass with its thick and matted fur.

"Look, it's pleased to see us," Phoebe said and started to whistle, but was stopped almost instantly by the stormy look on Salina's face.

"Just get rid of the damn thing. For Christ's sake, do something before those things grow again!"

"It's not my bloody dog, you know?" she snapped back. "How am I supposed to order it around?"

"Go away, stupid mutt," Salina continued and threw the jam pot she was holding at the dog in frustrated anger. The glass jar missed the animal's head by mere inches and fell to the ground by its front paws. It immediately began licking furiously at the remainder of the blackcurrant jam, prodding its muzzle at the jar and forcing its tongue as far inside as possible.

"Look, it's just hungry, that's all," Phoebe said, her voice sounding child-like and her face physically drooping with sympathy. "Poor thing. Throw it some bread. Do we have any left?"

"Don't encourage it!" Salina growled. "Get it away from here before those black things..."

But the dark things were already starting to expand. It was slow at first, almost undetectable, but as the dog continued to lap-up the jam the dark patch slowly crept towards its hindquarters like a stalking predator.

"Look," Phoebe gasped when her eyes registered movement from behind the collie. "Do something, quick!" She stuck her fingers in her mouth and released an ear-shattering whistle. The dog immediately looked up from its scant meal and quizzically cocked its head in her direction as she continued to call.

"Here, boy, come to mummy. Come on now, Stripy!"

The dog's tail wagged faster at the sound of its new name. The darkness was now seeping below its body.

"God, I can't watch this," Salina said and turned away, feeling nauseous. "I can't watch this happen again..."

The dark patch was now spreading around its legs. Completely oblivious to its presence, the animal continued to stand in the same spot while the withering, darkening grass surrounded it.

"For God's-sake, Stripy, you stupid dog," Phoebe ordered, "move!"

Her voice caused the collie to take a few cautious steps towards her, its front paws clearing the blackened area. As if sensing the dog's movements the patch rapidly spread outward again, eager to encircle and trap its new potential victim. Phoebe's words encouraged the animal to continue onwards at a slow, uneasy pace, but as soon as she held out her arms, it was enticed into a run.

"Yes, come on, Stripy, come on!"

The sound of her friend's excited voice made Salina turn back round and watch as the dog sped past two smaller, dormant patches, made a wide arc as it neared the steps and prepared to leap towards Phoebe as she shuffled forward on crouching legs, ready to receive it in a hug.

"Come on, boy... Come on Stripy!"

From there the collie lunged from the base of the concrete blocks, tongue hanging from its mouth, tail wagging furiously, eyes focused solely on the girl above. The leash coiled around its front leg finally came away as it advanced through the air and into the waiting arms of Phoebe.

Dave's shrill laughter penetrated the still morning as she began to passionately hug the animal, allowing it to lick freely at her face even though she clearly objected by her expression of distaste. Salina, unsure whether she should feel anger or relief, automatically broke out into a wide grin. Stripy let off a series of high yelps as its new mistress tried to pull its lower body from the step below and into the safety of the trailer.

"Stop that now," she ordered in her best authoritative voice. "Come on now, Stripy!"

Still the dog would not come completely from the step beyond the doorway. Its body started to jerk in short spasmodic movements and its eyes began rolling rapidly about its head. From its mouth, another bout of high yelps filled the air followed by a deep growl-like gurgle, a sound that alarmed Phoebe and her bystanders. Its dirt-caked claws scratched the skin of her arms as it strived to climb fully into the doorway, drawing blood.

"Ouch! Come on, now," she grouchily ordered and tugged harder, her patience waning. But Stripy would still not budge. It was as if something had hold of it – something beneath the trailer.

Both Salina and Dave watched the dog struggle in Phoebe's arms as she continued in her attempt to pull it inside. Their faces swiftly changed from amusement to concern when they witnessed the dog's chaotic movements become a series of violent convulsions. The high-pitched sounds it emitted became almost painful to their ears.

"Phoebe, what is it?" Dave asked and made to peer over the edge of the door.

Then the dog's entire body abruptly stiffened before becoming limp.

"Stop being so bloody awkward, you...!" Phoebe, still in her crouching position, pulled one final time with all her strength. She let out a small cry of surprise when the resistance was suddenly gone and she rocked backwards on her heels, falling onto the linoleum floor with the dog still in her arms. Stripy's tongue flopped from its open jaws one last time, slid across the smoothness of Phoebe's cheek and came to a dead stop in mid-lick. Its foul breath wheezed from its mouth as a low, guttural growl erupted from its throat before dying away completely. Phoebe gagged and winced from the stench, but a shrill cry from Salina and a horrified gasp from Dave caused her to hurriedly struggle into a sitting position.

Firstly, and as if watching the subsequent events in slow motion, she saw Salina grab her homemade spear and begin prodding at something below the trailer, screaming out obscenities. Then Dave took a few steps backwards, his eyes like two large orbs behind his spectacles as he stared disbelievingly at the scene before him, his mouth formed into a shape of an O. The next thing Phoebe's confused mind registered was the blood – somehow there was lots of it – smeared across the short distance from the doorway to where she now sat with the dog still held to her small breasts. She then registered more blood, streaming from Stripy's mouth, saturating her tee shirt with its red fluid. With a squeal of disgust, but still in her dream-like state, she pushed the dog away from her, questioning even in her confusion why it felt abnormally light.

Now she saw that the dog's lower half was gone, almost cleanly cut into two. Her own blood seemed to drain from her head as she watched its remaining half topple past Salina over the doorway and bounce lifelessly down the steps and onto the ground like a discarded, broken toy. Blood flicked across the panelling of the walls from the entrails that protruded like broken pipe-work from its dissected carcass. The instant the remaining portion touched the grass below, which was mercifully out of Phoebe's field of vision, what appeared to be an arm reached out from behind the steps and dragged it beneath the trailer.

She now wanted to scream out her anguish and terror but somehow forgot how to. From within the bedroom, Dom was demanding to know what was going on while his sister continued to poke blindly at the earth below with the spear, screaming at the top of her voice. Dave was grappling with her, trying his best to pull her inside as she continued to stab futilely at the grass, churning up chunks of turf. But the instant the knife's blade clunked down upon the concrete base the thing grabbed it, and if Dave had not been clutching her tightly, she would have been yanked beneath the trailer.

"Let it go," Dave screamed into her ear, trying to prise the weapon from her grip. "It'll pull you down with it!"

There was a loud snapping noise and then they were both stumbling backwards as the handle broke into two. Dave managed to find his feet before he hit the floor and darted towards the doorway in one smooth movement, sweeping past Phoebe as she sat on the floor in stunned silence. Without a hesitant thought, he reached outside, swung the door shut and bolted it before a massive crash against the outside wall rocked the entire trailer.

He screamed out aloud and jerked back, anticipating another attack. It never came. Not yet.

Salina was now hysterical, babbling and shouting out words of no meaning, clutching at her hair with both hands, eyes fixated on the trail of blood smeared across the linoleum floor. Dave wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and dragged her, kicking and screaming, to the opposite end, eager to get her away from the sickening sight.

Phoebe remained sitting in a pool of the dog's sticky blood, lightly rocking back and forth whilst hugging her knees, her face a mask of total shock. Eventually she managed to turn her face to the ceiling, squeeze her eyes tightly shut and scream and scream and scream...

### Chapter 14 – Cabin fever

The thunderheads had arrived and rain fell with a fury that forced against the windows in heavy patters and tapped like fingers upon the metallic roof, making the four occupants inside feel as though they were living within a steel drum. Water soaked into the ground – "drown you bastards!" Dave had called to the patches outside – as small rivulets ran across the surrounding fields and collected in tiny pools. There were a few lightning flashes and rumbles of thunder, but chiefly the rain came: the falling fruit of the blackened clouds that swept its menacing way across the moors and beyond.

Now there was a calmness and serenity in the four people who sat or stood, each one gazing aimlessly around or fiddling with objects in hopeless amusement. But each one's eyes seemed to avoid the windows as though expecting whatever lurked beneath the trailer to peep inside and drive them all insane with just one glance at its face, like the legend of Medusa turning her victims into stone. The quietness within what they now considered their prison (although no one would actually speak aloud of their impressions) was a vast contrast to the madness during the hour following the incident with the dog.

A sobering slap to the face from Salina eventually stopped Phoebe from her hysterics. She then simply stood up from the pool of blood, strolled casually into the bathroom and vomited what little she had in her stomach.

While she showered, Salina had quickly briefed her brother on yet more bad news before hastily mopping the bloody mess with wet cloths held beneath her foot, smearing the reddened water further across the kitchen area. After this, she moved to the sink drawer, yanked it from its runners and tipped its entire contents onto the breakfast table. Her face held a look of boldness and determination as she rummaged through the array of utensils and cutlery, picking out every sharp or pointed object she could find – anything that she could used as a weapon – and placing them into a neat and orderly row on the tabletop. There was a smaller butcher's knife, two sharp vegetable knives, a slightly bent skewer, a vicious-looking spiralled corkscrew and the two pairs of scissors.

After this small task, she went to every window, closing and locking them one by one. She swiftly moved from left to right as she progressed towards the front of the trailer. Dave stood in the centre of the living room area and watched her hasty advance, wincing inwardly as the clicking noise from the small latches became another symbol of their virtual prison.

"What you doing that for?" he asked, his voice still rough from the shouting and screaming following Stripy's slaying.

"Stopping whatever is outside from coming in here," she told him. Her words were calm and toneless as though this was an everyday chore for an everyday event.

"But it's roasting in here, in case you haven't yet noticed!"

Salina only shrugged her shoulders and continued to snap the top windows above the lounge seats shut.

"It can't get through a gap that size because –"

"How do you know that?" Her sudden, biting voice did not stop the last of Dave's sentence dead in his throat, making his mouth silently speak the remainder of his statement. It was her piercing, enraged glare. Her entire mood and mannerism had changed so rapidly that he at first believed the thing outside had possessed her. "How could you know anything?"

She stormed past him, her footsteps thumping across the floor on her march to the bedroom where her brother rested. Five minutes passed before she emerged again and stood by the open door with tightly folded arms. Her demeanour had changed to one of calmness again, although her face now wore a look of concern and her eyes appeared nervous.

"Could you help me? Dom wants to come out here. He... he said he could hear strange things, like scratching noises below the caravan."

Dave nodded once and tried to blank out his mind's image of arms tearing away at metalwork. "Okay," he simply said.

So they had both helped Dom move from the bedroom to one of the long lounge seats at the front of the trailer, his arms wrapped around each of their shoulders as they carried him on either side. He had declined their offer to bring the mattress with him, preferring to settle onto the right side bench of the 'C' shaped seating area where he sat quite comfortably with his cushioned head propped against the panelled wall. He refused his sisters demands that he should raise the injured leg for his own good, fighting her off with grouchy protestations and defiant fidgeting.

Soon after this, Phoebe suddenly sprung from the bathroom and rushed towards her three collected friends, her wet hair spraying fine droplets of water as she ran with a towel ineffectively clung to her right breast only, her nakedness of no real concern. The others each turned at the sound of her approach and immediately saw fresh fear behind her wide, staring eyes.

"Something moved the toilet in there," she said in a lowered voice when she came to a stop before them, as if fearing whatever was lurking beneath would hear. "I swear I saw the whole fucking toilet pan move!"

Dave and Salina looked at each other, then together at Dom who nodded back as though some silent consultation had passed between them. Then Phoebe had stood anxiously at the front with Dom, still mindlessly holding the draping towel to one breast as the other two cautiously stepped into the steamy bathroom, their ears and eyes trained for the slightest hint of movement. At first the only sign of motion was the steady drip, drip from the showerhead and the running condensation from the mirror above the sink, but as they stood and listened a sudden clanging from somewhere beneath their feet caused them both to jump back out of the room again.

Then the toilet did move; subtly at first then with a ferocious rattling as the attaching pipe-work below shook with a tremendous force, swirling the water within the pan from side to side. Salina screamed out once before clamping a hand to her mouth to stifle more that wanted to be voiced.

"Shit, we've got to block it off before it gets in," Dave hollered as he took a further step from the bathroom, eager to make distance between himself and whatever was kept at bay by a mere inch of flooring.

"But how?" she hollered back. "Block it off with what?"

"Barricade it with something, sis," Dom cried out from the seats. Salina whirled round to face him.

"With what?"

"Chairs, suitcases... Anything!"

Now the waste pipe to the sink was rattling from where it protruded from the floor, followed shortly after by the copper water pipes.

"He's right," Dave said as he stood behind her. "We've got to shut the whole damn room off before it pulls out the pipe-work and tears a bigger hole or something!"

So they managed to secure the door shut by using more Gaffa Tape tied around the bathroom and adjacent bedroom door handles. Soon after, the noises had come to an abrupt stop as if the thing creating it had grown bored of its newly found entertainment.

There was one more scare before they each managed to return to some kind of normality, gaining a little more composure as the minutes ticked into hours. It happened just as the darkness that only storms could bring dampened the summer's light, creating a more defined glumness within the trailer. A light scratching at the door made all heads turn in its direction, and it seemed that every person held their breath as they listened for its return. Has this thing enough intelligence to be able to break inside? Could it use tools or weapons?

But it never came again. Dave eventually plucked up the courage to creep over to the kitchen window and peer outside, but all he could see was the familiar patches that waited motionlessly upon the surrounding grass.

Now, as the rain tapped heavily on the roof, the four occupants slumped into a kind of dreary quietude, the only regular noise they made was from their empty stomachs. Salina moved slowly back and forth across the length of the trailer like a watchman, periodically peeping inside the master bedroom for no discernible reason and putting an ear to the bathroom door to check for more disturbances. Phoebe sat at the breakfast table amongst the cutlery in complete silence, sometimes biting at her nails, sometimes biting at her lower lip, but mainly staring vacantly at the panelled wall ahead.

Dom and Dave remained on the lounge seats, occasionally muttering to each other, occasionally leafing mindlessly through one of the many magazines lying about the floor, occasionally stared into space.

"It's a good job we weren't going out today, with all this rain." Salina's voice made Dave and her brother look up in her direction as she stood casually by the sink, the weak attempt of a smile looking almost pathetic on her face. She shrugged and looked away after seeing Dave's own blank, non-amused face staring back at her. She sniffed loudly and turned her back on them, head facing the floor, seemingly deep in thought. Moments later her voice, although low and brooding, broke the sullen silence once again.

"It's a funny world, isn't it? How I always thought of this caravan as my 'happy place'." She looked slowly round to see that Dave was still staring with his deadpan look, although her brother's eyes had turned to the rain spattered side window as he listened to her words.

"Since I've been coming here as a little girl, I've always called this my 'happy place'. Whenever I was having a bad day or felt angry or sad or something, I would imagine that I was back here again and I would feel better." She paused for a moment. When she continued, her voice sounded slightly strangled as she struggled to choke back the tears that wanted to flow. "So where am I supposed to take my happy thoughts now?"

Salina brought her fist up to her trembling mouth and turned away so that the others could not see her cry, leaving them with nothing to listen to but the steady beat of the rain.

It was not long before breaks appeared in the blackened clouds that drifted slowly across the moors where the brilliance of the sun escaped in shafts, and soon the storm dispersed as quickly as it came, the last of the rain falling upon the metallic roof as the dying turbulent mass passed overhead and into the distance.

Another hour passed. Phoebe, after complaining she could not use the toilet and refusing Dave's suggestion to 'piss in a bloody bucket', had decided that sitting on the floor and leaning against the broom cupboard was far more comfortable than the seats. The others each sat on one of the three benches in the lounge area, all resuming their taciturnity while they remained deep within their own private thoughts.

Dom was desperately trying to think about anything other than his missing foot but his lower leg was aching like crazy – a steady, angry throbbing above a deeper, constant burning sensation that seemed to creep higher each hour, the nerves in his groin now joining with the chorus of pain. It was hot in here, but the sweat he shed was mostly due to the mutilated limb and the skinless fingers of his two hands that had their own unique, pulsating agony. God, he wished for morphine or absolutely anything that would just ease the pain to a level he could at least tolerate. All he could do right now was sit and suffer, his deep breathing and concentration the only form of pain control.

Dave was still considering running. His mental movie screen played and replayed how he would simply get up off the seat and sprint to the road like a bat out of hell. But what about the creature skulking beneath the trailer? He already knew it moved quickly and was very strong.

Dave reached into the pocket of his shorts for the packet of tobacco he no longer had and fell into a lower state of low. He decided against running just yet and resorted instead to closing his eyes and letting his mind drift across more pleasant thoughts. With the combination of the humidity the storm was unable to lift and his physical and nervous fatigue, he soon slipped into a light doze.

Salina now sat wearing another clean tee shirt after her previous one joined the growing pile of bloodstained garments. She was reminiscing on their long trip down here, how things were different, how things were good. Her heart seemed to sink physically in her chest at the thought of them all relaxing in the Chrysler's seats as the countryside sped by with the sticky heat as their only complaint. How long ago was that? It couldn't be much more than forty-eight hours, surely.

Then her little smile returned at the memory of Casey's furious face and of Doug's bemused, almost childlike one as he listened to her scornful remarks for leaving her suitcase full of clothes behind. _Lucky old suitcase,_ she thought.

Salina had listened to their argument from behind her bedroom door, sniggering to herself as Casey squared up to the towering form of Doug. And what were the things she found in the case he managed to bring along with him? Lots of your CD's, she remembered her saying. And snorkelling crap.

Salina suddenly sat up straight in her seat. What else? She scratched vigorously at her hair as her mind churned over the memories. Crisps, of course. Some useful bloody packets of crisps – she recalled laughing at that remark. And whisky...I'm sure she mentioned whisky!

She stood up so abruptly that Dave, who suddenly awakened from his doze, believed the creature beneath them had rammed something up her arse from below.

"Stay here," she commanded. Her voice appeared dominating but there was a hint of elation in there with it. "I'll be right back!"

She marched towards the other end of the trailer and Dom began to rise awkwardly from his seat, fearful that his sister would swing open the main door and disappear on another of her rescue quests. He relaxed again when she bypassed this door and entered the master bedroom. Only a minute later, he began to rise once more when she returned, this time through disbelief at what he saw in each of his sister's hands. Dave stood up when his eyes fell upon what could only be a full bottle of Scotch whisky held tightly in her right hand, his face beaming with exultation like a young boy on Christmas morning. Even Phoebe, whose features now seemed to have a permanently fixed expression of glumness, brightened when she saw the consumable gifts she bore.

"I remember Casey telling Doug about the crisps and booze he brought instead of her clothes," she told them with excitement, although a conflicting feeling of sadness for her two lost friends dampened the feeling. "But she never mentioned these." A large smile of triumph stretched across Salina's mouth as she stood in the middle of the lounge area, holding up the multi-pack of crisps and an additional family pack of chocolate bars in her other hand. "Help yourselves boys and girls, courtesy of Doug King!"

It worked out that they each had two packets of crisps and one and a half bars of chocolate, and although it was not much, it was something to put in their stomachs. They all devoured what little they had in seconds, popping open the packets and wolfing down the contents as fast as they could pick them out, some of them pouring the crisps directly into their mouths from the bag. And the chocolate, although soft and almost completely melted in places seemed to be the best damn thing they had ever tasted.

But the whisky went down even better. This was neither shared out equally nor rationed as intended. Instead, Salina and Phoebe had about two large glassfuls each while Dom and Dave drank straight from the bottle like two thirsty alcoholics on a bad day, consuming it voraciously as they did with their scant amount of food.

Salina wanted to protest about her brother's wild bingeing but decided to let him be, accepting that being drunk was better than being in agony – anything to keep a smile upon his sorrowful face, even for a short while. Even Phoebe livened a little from her depression since the incident with the dog; a little smile returned to her lips and colour brought about from the whisky flushed her cheeks a bright red.

Within the hour Dave was prancing up and down the trailer, displaying his drunken dance moves while the portable stereo, so-far untouched by the electrical disturbances (although its radio continued to return nothing but static), blared music at full volume. In one hand he held the three-quarters empty bottle of whisky, periodically taking large swigs in between slurred verses of song.

Dom was also attempting to sing along with him, his permanent grin broken only by his bouts of harmonised hollering and guzzling of the firewater.

"Save some of that for me," Phoebe asked Dave as she sat cross-legged on the lounge seats, holding out a hand to him. He ignored her and took a further two or three – who was counting? – swigs from the bottle and staggered over to the far end.

Salina, now fully regretting reintroducing them to the pleasures of alcohol, was beginning to become more than irritated with their partying antics. "Turn that bloody racket down," she managed to bellow above the noise. Dom looked up at her, his fixed grin faltering only slightly below eyebrows that were now furrowing with perplexity.

"Turn it down for what?" he scoffed, and Salina managed to read the words from his lips more than hear them.

"It's just too bloody loud, that's all!" The real reason, although she did not want to admit to herself, thinking it was irrational, thinking it was just plain stupid, was because she found their frolicking 'disrespectful' of her dead friends. She began to see the absurdity of the situation as though she was some outsider observing from above, seeing a bunch of trapped, frightened young people partying and having a good old knees-up, their bogus grins and laughter like a thin, protective mask to hide behind while death awaited them outside. To her, it was like a last cigarette before facing the firing squad.

"No, keep it on," Dave ordered as he leant against the main door.

"Let me have some more," Dom called over to him, and his new drinking buddy made his way back over to where he sat without hesitation, although his gait was far from steady.

"Hey, you... I said I wanted some more!" Phoebe's eyes glared at the two males as the near empty bottle passed between them. Salina, standing and watching by the broom cupboard, could see her rising to her feet, her fists clenched, her face reddening this time with rage. "Bastards, I told you I wanted –"

"Shut that fucking racket up now!" Salina, her temper finally snapping, marched over to the T.V table where the portable stereo now sat in its place and yanked its plug from the socket in one smooth action. The sudden, empty silence that followed oddly felt louder than the blaring music.

"What's the matter with you?" Dave growled.

"We just need to be quiet, that's all," she tried to reason.

"Quiet? Why?"

"In case something happens."

"Like what?"

Salina shrugged, turned and faced him. "I don't know exactly, but if that thing tries to get inside or something, we wouldn't be able to hear it! Remember the bathroom?"

The other three, now bunched together, gazed back at her dumbly as though she had just been speaking in Swahili. Only five seconds later, as if to enforce her views, a loud tapping noise from the roof directly above Salina's head filled the room. She screamed out and sprung forward through the small crowd around her brother, almost landing on his injured leg.

"It's that thing again," she cried, cringing towards Dom as her jittery eyes darted across the ceiling. "It's on the roof... it's on the bloody roof, I told you, didn't I?"

"Look, it's just a stupid seagull," Dave informed her as he pointed to the skylight above the lounge area. "I can see both its feet!" They all looked up to see the unmistakable shape of two small, webbed feet through the clear but weather-dulled plastic as the bird made its way leisurely across the metal roof. Dom, Dave and Phoebe simultaneously burst out into great bellows of laughter, leaving Salina to feel like a complete fool. Tears from a combination of anger, frustration and humiliation welled in her eyes. Now she wanted to run as far as she could before she went stir-crazy but knew with more anguish that she could not even do that simple task. She began to head for the master bedroom instead, eager to be alone and away from their laughing, mocking faces, but Dave's slight form was already heading down the walkway.

"I'm going for a piss," he declared and stumbled towards the bathroom. Upon realising the door had been taped shut, he turned round and began to unlock the main door.

"What are you doing?" Phoebe asked, her words vocalized as one long gasp. Dom's chuckling soon died away as he witnessed his friend casually pulling the bolt back and turning the key within its lock. His eyes widened and he began to rise from where he sat.

"What does it look like to you?" was his only answer before the door swung open, allowing the cooler, early evening air to waft inside. He then proceeded to unzip his shorts before urinating onto the grass below in a seemingly endless stream. "Drink this, you bastards," he told the silent black patches as his water splattered onto the earth.

"Don't do it, man," Dom told him and began to swing his legs from the bench, the sudden bolt of pain reminding him that his lower left leg was still in tatters.

"But that weird, fucked-up thing's out there, stupid," Phoebe added, "and it could come back any second!"

Both of their warnings seemed to have no effect on him and he continued to evacuate his bladder, his urine spraying wildly as he swayed to and fro on unsteady feet. He began to scream out lyrics from a song that only he seemed to know as the other three people watched in suspended apprehension, their breath held tightly in their chest until he finally finished.

"That's better," he told his friends with a smile after pulling the door shut again. "I needed that!"

There was only plain silence for a moment other than the sound of escaping breath as Dom, Salina and Phoebe finally relaxed. Dave re-zipped his fly and continued to grin back at them as if being proud of his act.

"You stupid, fucking idiot," Phoebe eventually blurted, her face reddening once more. "You could've let that thing in here to kill us all!"

Dave's drunkard grin wavered before dropping into a scowl. "But it didn't," he told his displeased audience. "And if I want to piss, then I'll piss as much as I fucking want!"

"Yeah, but it could have torn your cock off, man," Dom said and laughed, although it now appeared devoid of humour.

_Lock the door, stupid_ was all Salina could think of at this very moment as she stared blankly at the doorway, her anger, fear and despair totally spent, her mind becoming numb from all emotions. Even after he turned and strolled aimlessly into the master bedroom, still asserting his rights to urinate freely into the open air, her eyes never left the laminated, aluminium door.

_Lock the door, stupid_ she thought again but did not say. Dave's voice – "I don't give a flying fuck" – became clear once more as he wandered aimlessly back out from the bedroom and stood at the same spot by the doorway.

"I've had enough of your bitching," he confessed in his drunken slur as he swayed on his two feet with his arms folded across his chest, looking like a sailor on a rough sea. "Enough of your moaning and worrying and –"

Lock the door, stupid.

"– screaming at each other and –"

At that precise moment the main door swiftly opened and something snatched Dave from where he stood. It was as though he had a bungee rope attached to his waist – one second he was there, the next he was gone. Salina at first refused to believe what her eyes had relayed to her, interpreting what she saw as maybe a cruel illusion or a hallucination from her fatigued and overactive mind. It was only when her brother screamed out the word "no!" did the reality finally begin to dawn in a slow, gradual progression, as one would awaken from a vivid nightmare.

_My God_ , she thought and took a few lumbering, dream-like steps towards the doorway. _It just opened and Dave was grabbed..._ She passed the sink area, not hearing the protesting screams form her brother and the cries of anguish from Phoebe as she continued to where her friend of two years had been standing only seconds before. A hand – his hand – was still clinging tightly to the edge of the doorway. She had time enough to take just one more step before the door slammed shut with an almighty crash, leaving the fingers from Dave's right hand to patter one by one onto the floor.

She screamed, Phoebe screamed and from outside, Dave screamed.

"Give him back, give him back you bastard!" Salina's tranquillity now broke and she threw the door open again and leaned out just in time to see Dave's stunned, waxy face before he was dragged completely under the trailer, his good hand grasping fruitlessly at the grass. Phoebe was at her side in seconds, grabbing her by the shoulders and attempting to haul her back inside. She resisted, trying to twist her body away from her hands, obliviously kicking Dave's four severed digits out of the doorway where they each rolled from the steps and onto the ground. "Leave him alone," she cried through tears of rage more than sorrow. "Give him back or I'll kill you, I swear!"

Inside the lounge area, Dom managed to stand upon his right foot, letting his injured left leg protrude before him in an unsuccessful attempt of balancing. He desperately needed to get to his sister before whatever was outside took her as it took Dave – yanked from his life within a blink of an eye. With a whining groan of frustration, he lurched forward, hopping on his good leg as he tried to reach out and grasp the door handle of the broom cupboard for support. But with the combination of haste, weariness and alcohol, he toppled sideways, his right temple colliding with one corner of the television table. Blood immediately gushed from a rent in his skin and he collapsed into unconsciousness, his body crumpling into a motionless heap within a growing pool or crimson red.

With her adrenalin rapidly diminishing, the weakness of despair finally washed over Salina's body and she allowed her friend to drag her inside. Phoebe then quickly shut, locked and bolted the door, mercifully muffling the sound of Dave Watson's screaming. An instant later, the trailer rocked upon its foundations with a violent force. The two females tightly hugged each other, bursting into uncontrollable sobs as the thing outside hammered and scratched the metallic walls around them, the blows sounding like thunder in their ears.

Then there was silence.

Just above the hill-tops the sun balanced in the distance with final glory before its slow and humble descent towards the horizon when the darkness would prevail yet again, turning the cowering shadows into large blackened beasts that would conspire with the night. Soon the lights would blaze once more within the metallic case of the trailer, casting thin rays of bright yellow upon the dark surface of the grass where the light breeze whispered like secret voices.

And somewhere beneath the stationary hulk of the trailer two shadowy figures merged together like lovers, their shapes forming into a single dark mass as one began to feed.

### Chapter 15 – Third night

Dom now wore more bandages. Only once did he come out from his delirium to complain about the pain he was experiencing while his sister yet again tried her best to patch him up by using more of the handy bed sheeting. Salina was fully aware that the scalp could bleed profusely when cut, but her main concern was for how long he was unconscious. Maybe it was partly due to the alcohol, but she believed that what must have been three hours of blackout time meant he had not sustained only a minor head wound – he had given his skull one almighty pounding.

"Murr... make murr... make err..." Dom mumbled to his sister and dribbled a long string of saliva from one side of his mouth. Seeing this and the way his eyeballs rolled about his head, Salina noted with a guilty feeling that he reminded her of the way brain damaged victims looked.

"Just keep still," she told him and was almost glad that he was not conscious enough to see that the tears were flowing freely again.

Phoebe had yet again disappeared within herself since the banging, scratching and rocking of the trailer finally ceased. The two women had stood cringing in the kitchen area, clinging desperately to each other like two frightened schoolgirls lost in the woods while the thing outside pounded at the walls, windows, flooring and even the roof, the thunderous noises seeming to come from each direction at the same time. They never once looked to the windows when they heard the thing scratching deep marks into the glass, never dared to take a curious glance at their assailant even when they sensed it peering in at them from the breakfast area window. They could only hug each other more tightly and bury their faces further into their shoulders as they felt its unholy eyes boring into them.

Eventually the noises died down to a mere scratching from below until it finally ceased altogether. Salina, after discovering her brother lying face down in a pool of his own blood, had to tear Phoebe physically from her body like a corpse from frozen ground to get to him.

Now she did not care very much for the way Dom's brain had somehow lost all authority over his eyes, and she noticed with growing concern that they sometimes appeared to look in every direction at once. His tongue, which seemed to have also become independent of the grey matter, reeled off more mumbo jumbo as Salina sat beside him on the bench, at a loss with what to do with him.

"Oh, Dom," she told him and noticed the way her voice trembled. "What a real shit state you've gotten into these last two days, eh?"

Looking at him like this made her want to fall to pieces right now and be done with it. To just slide down onto the hard floor upon her arse and scream and bawl and ask why, why, why at the top of her voice would be so easy and somehow so refreshing. But that type of hysteria had already been done, hadn't it, by Phoebe who now sat in total silence on the opposite bench with her head lowered, seemingly finding her two feet so amusing that she cannot tear her staring eyes away from them.

"Could you do me a favour and put the lights on now, please, Phoebe?" She could not believe how quickly the day had gone. Already the sun had sunk behind the peaks of the moors, allowing the long shadows of dusk to creep forward and stain the trailer with its gloom. Just the thought of being here in the growing darkness with that thing lurking somewhere outside was enough to send another surge of gripping panic to rise from within.

Phoebe never responded to her request so Salina looked over her shoulder to see that she was still preoccupied with her feet. Without a further word, Salina stood and walked across the trailer, switching on every light until it was ablaze with yellow light. Only the bathroom and small bedroom that were still taped shut were left to the shadows of the coming night.

But she did not stop there. Next, she proceeded to every available window and tightly closed each pair of curtains, eager to block the hostile outside world from her eyes.

This is like the routine mum always did when we were kids, she reminisced with a wan smile. We always knew it was time for bed when the lights went on and the curtains were drawn. And when we got older, it meant T.V time when dad would settle down with some cold cans of beer and a cigarette, and mum with a glass or two of wine – back in the days when a glass or two was enough... before her romance with Captain Morgan rum and Jim Beam whiskey.

It was during the drawing of the last curtains above the lounge seats when she heard Phoebe suck in a gasping breath. "Did you hear that?" Her voice was low and husky, and she was staring so hard it seemed that her eyes could drop out of their sockets at any second and roll about the floor.

"Hear what?" There was only silence.

Phoebe turned her head so slowly towards the doorway that Salina imagined she could hear her neck creaking. Her eyes followed her friend's eyes, and at the same time, her heart began to play the drums within her chest for the thousandth time since yesterday morning. There was no visible sign of disturbance from the doorway as she stood and watched intently, anticipating yet another episode of banging or scratching.

"Hear what?" she repeated after getting no further response, but she got her answer not from Phoebe.

"It hurts..." It was Dave's voice. Although weak and muffled by layers of flooring, it was unmistakably the voice of their lost friend coming from somewhere beneath them. Salina clapped a hand to her mouth and her eyes became just like Phoebe's eyes. A few seconds later a long, torturous moan followed before fading away to silence again.

"Dave," Salina uttered weakly, unable at first to get the words from a mouth that seemed to have frozen in mid-gawp. "Is that you?"

There was another, shorter groaning before: "Make it stop... Oh, God, it hurts... it huuurrrts!"

"Dave?" she said a little stronger and continued to repeat his name ever louder until she filled the trailer with her screaming voice. "Dave? Dave, answer me... fucking answer me!"

Phoebe climbed to her feet and retreated slowly backwards to Salina's side, her breath panting like a dog's, her staring, unblinking eyes never moving from the floor before them. "He's still alive," she gasped. "Oh, my God, Sal – he's still alive!" Then her mouth trembled and she burst out into noisy sobs, hot streams of tears running down her face. "What can we do?" she tried to say, but her hitching throat now strangled her words.

"Dave, can you hear me?" Salina stamped a foot down hard upon the floor and the vibration rattled ornaments and cups throughout the trailer. She only had to wait for a few more seconds before Dave Watson, now barely recognisable, spoke again.

"It's hurting meeeeee! Oh, God!"

"Dave!" She pounced to the nearest window and separated the freshly drawn curtains again to peep outside, having to put her hands to the glass to shield from the reflection of the internal light as the darkness had already engulfed the blue glow of dusk. She had no idea what she was expecting to see, although her mind showed images of her friend hopelessly trying to crawl back out from below while inhuman hands grabbed cruelly at his back, yanking him backwards as he continued to scream in terror. Instead, there was only the night-blackened grass with its now invisible patches. All she could see was a sliver of green illuminated by the light from the window as her eyes desperately searched for the slightest sign of movement.

"What do you see?" Phoebe's voice croaked weakly from behind. Salina turned away from the window with her head lowered as if in shame, that sickening feeling returning to her stomach.

"I see nothing –" she began to say when Dave's screaming words floated once again from beneath their feet like a ghost's declaration of eternal torment. The sound of his suffering became torture to their ears as they stood together, utterly powerless while the thing below slowly murdered their friend.

"It's eating... It's eating me... Oh, God, somebody –"

But his voice was cut short and the silence that followed was almost as terrible as the screams.

"Is he d... dead?" Phoebe stammered. "You th... think it got him?"

Her words were nothing in Salina's ears as her eyes focused upon the array of sharp and pointed kitchen utensils on the breakfast table. She found enough strength in her jellified legs to shuffle over to the table to snatch up the vegetable knife, believing it to be the sharpest. It felt good in her hand – too good – and she had visions of crawling underneath the trailer and rapidly slicing and stabbing at the creature until it screamed as Dave had screamed while she told it "see how you like it, you fucker!" until it was no more than chunks of bloody flesh on the concrete base.

But I don't even know what it looks like, she pondered dismally, staring at the mesmerising light reflecting off the knife's keen edge. Is it human? She doubted it. Maybe _humanoid._

What passed as a smile of satisfaction crossed her lips and she turned, stopped to consider something, then turned back again and picked up the two remaining knives.

"Take this," she said after returning to Phoebe and forced the butcher's knife's handle into her hand. She took it and just held it in front of her face, gazing blankly at the blade as though she had never seen one before.

"Lina... Sal?" Dom began to hitch himself upon one elbow, and although very weak, he managed to lift his head enough to look at his sister through half-opened eyes. "What was all about, sis, what?"

She took a few steps in his direction, unknowingly waving the kitchen implement cum weapon at him like an assailant as she spoke. "Just you rest, now. Keep that head of yours down and try to get some sleep."

He immediately relaxed back onto the bench, his head slumping so loosely upon the cushions that at first Salina thought he had either fainted or died. But his eyes, although weary and barely open, never left hers.

"That's it, bro. Hang on in there just a little..."

Now she could hear the creaking of the main door handle as it turned upwards and downwards by unseen hands from outside. The remainder of Salina's words stopped dead in her throat as her ears picked out and focused upon the faint sound of movement. Before her head could turn slowly and reluctantly in its direction so that her eyes could certify what her ears depicted, Phoebe gasped, wheeled round and faced the doorway.

"What was that?" She pointed the knife directly out in front of her, using both hands upon the haft. "Was that the door...It was, wasn't it?"

Salina did not answer, or needed to. The handle yanked up and down over and over again with such violent force that the mechanism squeaked and ground with exertion, the noise ridiculously loud within the deathly silence of the trailer. _Little pig, little pig, let me in_ went through Salina's mind just before the lights went out, leaving them with nothing but total blackness. There was a shriek of surprise and terror from Phoebe, followed by the sound of her body sliding down the surface of the broom cupboard and onto the floor where she remained hugging herself in a tight ball. Then there was only the rattling of the handle to listen to again, coming out from the darkness as the thing outside continued in its attempt to open the door in hope of another easy victim.

Oh, great, Salina thought, and she felt herself slump again with resignation. Now what? Can it get any worse? _Probably._

"It's them... They did it. It's those things again!" Phoebe's whimpering voice came from the area by her feet and she looked down to see the black shape of her body as her eyes adjusted to the dark.

"Maybe it's only an old fuse blown inside here," she told her but believed not a word from her own lips.

"Sis? What? Why dark?" Dom's voice was barely a weak mumble now and the only thing that kept Salina's growing concern for him at bay was the new predicament they now had.

"It's ok, bro," she tried telling him in a soothing voice that came out sounding shaky and terrified instead. "I'll sort this out somehow. No problem."

_No problem..._ w _hat a joke,_ her mind tormented as she searched desperately for a solution. They were all smoking in here over these last few shitty days, she knew that much, and she also knew that there was also no smoke without fire. Some of them had a lighter – Doug and Dave especially. But they were both gone now and they more than likely kept the lighters on their person.

"Phoebe, do you happen to have a lighter on you?"

"I... I don't have," she simply replied, and then added "but I think I saw one somewhere" almost as an afterthought.

The rattling of the door handle suddenly stopped, leaving only the sound of the two girls' rapid breathing while they waited for another form of torment from their unseen savage. After waiting for what seemed like forever without further attack, Salina spoke again.

"Phoebe? Where do you _think_ you saw it?"

Silence for a moment while she thought this over, then: "on the table where we eat, I think."

That was good enough information for Salina. She slid the knife under her belt and proceeded carefully forward like a blind person with arms stretched out before her, feeling her way through the thick blanket of darkness. Her foot bumped against what she believed to be an empty suitcase and stepped around it towards where she judged the breakfast table to be. Eventually her hands came upon the smooth Formica surface of the table, the clutter of kitchen implements she displayed earlier confirming this.

So far, so good, presuming Phoebe's memory was correct. She felt her way across the table, sweeping both hands in small circular movements. One of the sharp objects jabbed her wrist and she gave a little yelp of surprise more than pain and recoiled her arms, knocking something to the floor. She dearly hoped it was not the cigarette lighter. Her fingers walk across the surface, picking out and identifying the utensils and knives. She felt around what seemed like ages with no result but knew she had to find it, clinging to the other hope that the candles her uncle used to keep under the sink for such emergencies as this were still there.

"You find it, yet?" Phoebe asked.

"No, of course not," she snapped, "or I wouldn't still be looking for it in the dark, stupid. Are you sure you saw it on the table?" Just then, her right hand that had reached across the far end knocked what felt like an object small enough to be a lighter, causing it to skid away from her touch. Then her fingers found and enclosed upon the distinctive shape of the item she was searching for, happening to be balancing precariously on the edge of the table.

"Found it!" Salina yelled victoriously and flicked on the flame. Its light, creating deeper shadows that appeared to retreat from its sudden glare, illuminated her immediate surroundings. Although the flame was only small, she had to divert her eyes from the new brightness until they had time to readjust. There was enough light to see the ghostly, upturned face of her friend as she sat with her back to the broom cupboard, her dark eyes reflecting the fire of the lighter as two tiny sparkles.

Salina turned in the direction of the sink so swiftly that the flame blew out and it took her four attempts to relight it. Once inside the bottom cupboard she had another arduous task of rummaging through the clutter with only one hand whilst trying not to burn the fingers of the other. She began pulling out items such as new and used cloths, half-empty cans of cleaning liquid and old rubber gloves until she found, with an added sigh of relief, what she was looking for. There were ten candles remaining in a pack of twelve.

"Found them," she said then picked one out and lit its wick; the added luminosity immediately strengthened the poor light. Phoebe finally managed to find her feet again as Salina lit another candle before passing it to her waiting hand. It wasn't long before the trailer was awash with a hazy, shimmering glow after they both walked around the kitchen, dining and lounge areas, fixing the candles on table-tops and other flat surfaces with molten wax. The eerie glimmer reminded Salina of the times when she and Dom used to make jack-o'-lanterns on Halloween night and sit and watch the flickering light within the pumpkin as the shadowy image of its cut-out face bounced upon the ceilings and walls. This time there was no scary face (thank God for small favours), but as Salina settled down between her sleeping brother and Phoebe on the back seats she noticed how the candles' burning light seemed to make the shadows come alive once more on every slight disturbance of its flame.

"Do you think that creature came from one of those patches?" Phoebe's voice, although she was sitting right beside her, sounded oddly small and distant.

Salina turned her head and gave her a look of distaste as if she had gone mad. "Of course it did," she told her rather snobbishly. "Where else do you suppose it came from? Dial-a-monster?"

Phoebe said no more about it.

_Dial-a-monster,_ Salina reflected with a sinking heart. Dave's sarcasm seemed to have rubbed off on me – his one and only legacy. _Poor Dave._

Nothing else happened for another two hours except for the new experience of urinating in a washing-up bowl. Then sometime around midnight, after managing to settle down together on the lounge seats, Dave Watson's voice, barely audible above Dom's snoring and grunting, floated one final time from beneath the flooring. The disturbing sound now seemed so dreadful and pitiful that all the two girls could now do was sit in personal silence, both far too emotionally exhausted to weep or cry out anymore, and wait for him to die – hoped and prayed that the unholy thing would just kill him and be finished with it once and for all. Salina could feel her heart sink further towards her stomach and sit there like a lead ball as she heard her good friend being... Well, say it, she told herself sternly within her head. Just say it, will you? Go and let it out of the bag and be done with it.

Tormented... Tortured... Mutilated... Eaten alive.

There, it was out now and she felt better for it. After all, hadn't she recently seen two of her other good friends killed in the most horrid way before her very eyes?

A few more comprehensible words such as "God help me" and "stop" could be heard between bouts of gibberish moans and screams before his voice was suddenly cut short. It was at this point when they both knew it was finally over for him: that the creature that lurked outside had gone for the final kill.

Poor Dave, Salina thought again and closed her eyes from the sparkle of the many little flames. Poor Dave, who had been a good friend of her and her brother since meeting him in the Buddha Bar two years ago, not long after their father died; Dave, who had proposed that she and Dom should share a house with him later this year. Dave, who had always secretly fancied Salina from day one, confessing this to her brother after a drunken night out together; Dave, who now lay in an expanding pool of arterial blood as parts of his body were slowly being removed...

Salina opened her eyes again, looked at her deeply sleeping brother, and thanked God that it was not he who was down there right now being slowly devoured after hours of suffering. To know it was his screams of pain and mercy while she stood helplessly above would have without doubt finally sent her completely out of her mind. As she reached out a hand to brush a curl of sweat-drenched hair from his forehead, one final unearthly noise rose from below and into the fresh night. To those who would know no better, that sound, although strange and haunting, could be mistaken for the shrill call of some nocturnal animal. But to the trailer's two wakeful occupants, it was an unmistakable cry of triumph.

### Chapter 16 – Attack

"It's on the move again... Wake up, I think it's moving around again!"

Salina had somehow managed to slip into a long doze even though she was sitting practically bolt upright, her physical and mental fatigue winning over her jittery and agitated state of mind. The sound of Phoebe's panicky voice woke her in an instant and she snapped open her eyelids and turned her head towards the direction of her voice. Other than being aware that her thumping headache had substantially subsided, she happened to notice in that short moment before focusing on her friend's terrified face that the nearest candlestick had lost a few inches of wax, indicating that she must have been out for a good few hours.

"What's wrong?" she asked, hearing her two knees crack and feeling her aching back unlock as she stood and straightened – it felt as though her entire body was going through the stages of premature rigor mortis.

"I heard that... that _thing_ again," she told her as she stepped away from the seating. "It's moving around out there... Scratching."

Salina said no more and stood and listened, the only audible thing being the now too familiar sound of her excited heartbeat. There was a wait of only thirty seconds before a disturbance from outside did indeed occur, and the light scurrying they at first heard alarmingly appeared to transform into human footsteps.

"Did you hear that just –?"

"Shush!" Salina cut in, then in a lower tone: "I did." Her hand went automatically to the knife still tucked under her belt and pulled it free, grasping the handle tightly until her knuckles turned white. On seeing this, Phoebe plucked the spare weapon from the seat and held it likewise in front of her.

As they both anxiously waited, the noises gradually became distant before fading out completely as the creature moved to the far end of the trailer seemingly on two feet. The heavy footsteps – although they could be described more accurately as cumbersome strides – returned soon after on the other side and began to circle towards the front again.

"Is it walking now?" Phoebe whispered.

"It seems that way," Salina whispered back just before a fresh scratching came from the window above where they had been seated – the opposite end from where the walking prowler now appeared to be.

"Wait...is that the same...?" Phoebe swivelled her head back and forth, now confused by the conflicting sounds. They listened intently as the muffled footsteps neared and crossed the front section to the right of the trailer, merging momentarily with the scratching at the glass before continuing on its patrol-like cycle.

Phoebe turned and looked at her companion, her expression of disbelief obscured by the deep shadows of the candlelight. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Before Salina had a chance to answer, the thing behind the window ceased scratching and began pounding, the tough glass threatening to crack and break at any second. The two girls simultaneously screamed and flinched backwards, holding the handle of their knives tightly with a fierce grip. The banging then moved favourably from the window to the metallic walls and progressed across to the far end before stopping once again, leaving the sloppy footsteps to ring into the night.

"Sis... what's going on?" Dom struggled into a half sitting position, his face contorting with the new, added pain within his skull. "What's that banging?"

"It's okay," his sister told him, immediately rushing to his side and easing him back onto the seat. His eyes were already closing, and by the time his head touched the pillow she was convinced he had fallen straight back into a deep sleep.

And yes, she was thinking what Phoebe was thinking – that there were two of them now. She turned away from her brother just as the heavy footfalls upon the hard ground, muffled slightly by the grass, approached the front corner again and came to a dead stop directly outside the large front window. They each held their breath as they waited for the movement to restart, but the sudden silence indicated that their tormentor – or one of their tormentors – was standing and waiting just beyond the curtained glass.

"It's out there," Salina said, still speaking in whispers. "It's stopped right outside there." She needlessly jabbed a finger towards the window whilst looking at her friend, who was by now backing away towards the broom cupboard with that same fixated stare. Salina, in direct contrast, took a step towards the window and, with an unsteady hand, slowly reached out towards the curtains with fingers widely splayed.

"Don't touch it!" Phoebe abruptly snapped, stopping her in mid-action.

"I just want to know," was all she could say before continuing, her thumb and forefinger now lightly touching the draping fabric.

"Don't open them..." Her pleading voice was much lower now as she slid down the cupboard door once again, resuming her usual position on the floor with head lowered and knees tightly hugged. Salina now grasped the bottom corner of one curtain but stood completely motionless, secretly hoping that the footsteps would restart and resume its never-ending circular stroll. But it seemed that the thing outside was there to stay, and because her curiosity overwhelmed her fear, she began to gradually lift away the curtain.

"Please don't open them... Please don't open them..." Now Phoebe was merely whispering her words repeatedly like a chant, her lips moving automatically, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as not to witness whatever was waiting beyond.

Then Salina drew in a deep breath and flicked back her wrist. Upwards went the curtain, exposing only enough of the glass to glimpse the darkness beyond and to see one blacker-than-black eye staring directly back at her. What she wanted – needed – to do was scream, but all that sounded instead was a long but pathetic gasp of shock. As she recoiled, her hand flinched upwards, sending the curtain flapping further towards the ceiling, exposing more of the window and giving her a fleeting image of a bone-white profile of some indescribable face. Mercifully, it was for less than a second, but it was enough to burn an unwelcome image in her mind.

Phoebe, although she saw nothing, screamed out with more success and seemed to cringe even further against the cupboard, dropping the knife by her feet.

"Oh, my God!" was what Salina finally managed to get out just before the banging and pounding attacks returned, this time with such fierceness that the trailer began to rock, sending ornaments, drinking glasses and a plate crashing to the floor. Many of the candles became dislodged and tumbled from their perch to be extinguished upon the floor. Now they were in almost total darkness again as the remaining five flames danced wildly with every movement.

Salina returned the knife to her belt in order to scramble about the floor on hands and knees in an effort to retrieve the fallen candles, desperate to return the feeble yet necessary light to the rooms. "Get up, get up," she barked over the noise at the quivering form of Phoebe who only tightened herself further into a ball. "Help me quickly!"

"No!"

"For God's-sake, you useless, good-for-nothing bitch, fucking help me!"

With that last remark, and as though alarm bells had suddenly jolted her from some light doze, Phoebe snapped her head upwards, unfolded her tightly coiled arms and sprung onto her two feet. This time her eyes were bulging with rage rather than fear as she advanced towards her squatting companion. "Don't you call me that, you fucking slag!"

On witnessing her substantial shift in temperament that somewhat mirrored her own right now, Salina spun round on her heels and looked up at her friend's enraged face.

"What?"

The banging upon the walls abruptly stopped, leaving only a mild scratching from the rear of the trailer and the sound of Phoebe's harsh answer.

"You heard me, you fucking twat!"

Salina slowly got to her feet, never letting her eyes fall away from Phoebe's glaring ones as though she had now become the murderous beast. "Cool it down," she said calmly, then in a stronger tone with bared teeth, "before I knock you down!"

"Oh, yeah? Then go ahead," she offered and stepped closer, her small breasts thrust forwards and shoulders forced back in attack mode.

Salina hesitated, understanding that this was just some little misconception blown out of proportion, but at the same time feeling her own anger rising from somewhere deep down like a caged, wild animal suddenly released. "Don't make me, or I swear I'll –"

"Or I'll _what_?" Now her fists clenched and began to rise, and Salina, never before seeing her as pissed off as right now, became more concerned for her friend's sanity than the prospect of ending this little misunderstanding with a black eye.

"Come on," she prompted. "Or what?"

As they both stood there, practically face to face and poised at the ready, the skylight above their heads burst inwards with an explosion of plastic shards. A hand that was not yet human stretched down from above and grasped Phoebe by the hair, lifting her from her feet by the roots that anchor them to her scalp. Her face was no longer one of fury but of total shock, and her previous fisted hands were now clawing frantically at her attacker as she rose eighteen inches from the floor towards the gaping hole in the roof. "Help me," was all she could mutter – all prior disagreements suddenly forgotten – before a long, ear-shattering scream of terror and pain erupted from her mouth.

Out came the knife from behind Salina's belt again, and before she was even aware that the weapon was in her hand she was reaching up and slashing deep slices into the strange flesh of the assailant's long and muscular arms, visions of the stick man from her dream returning to her terrified mind.

"Don't let it take me... oh, God, don't let it take me!" Phoebe's head was now below the rim of the skylight, and although she was a little too big to fit through, Salina had no doubt that the thing above could yank her body through the gap far more easily than Doug was pulled into that small hole in the ground. She tried holding onto her wildly kicking legs and pulling downwards, but her friend's new bout of agonised screams caused her to abandon her efforts.

"I won't let it take you," she bellowed in response, although she was now standing back and looking with dumbstruck awe at Phoebe's contorting body dangling in mid-air.

So what now, she thought as she stood and watched while her friend ascended slowly but surely up to the hole, her screaming adding to the many horrid noises she had heard on this so-called fun week away. I'll just wait here until her feet pass through and it drags her away to her doom, and I can sit the rest of the night out and listen to her moans and cries while the creature eats her bit by bit as it did with Dave.

"Sal...?" Dom's voice. Salina turned to see her brother sitting upright and attempting to gain his feet, looking through eyes that were no longer dazed but fully open and cognitive. How long he had been watching this assault she had no idea, but his next sentence indicated that he had at least seen her initial retaliation with the knife. "Sal, for fuck's sake – just stab it again!"

His words seemed to snap her from her frozen state. With one final, wild effort she leapt into the air and, using both hands upon the knife's handle, thrust upwards, hoping and praying that the blade would not miss its target and instead plunge into her friend's head (although it would be a more merciful death than the one she would endure under this beast). But she did not miss and the weapon's deadly point slid easily through the flesh of the creature's forearm. What could only be black blood, or appearing black due to the dingy light, spurted into the air and ran down the knife's blade. From above, a long and unearthly cry filled the night before Phoebe's struggling body collapsing back onto the floor with a large thud. And, as a kind of finale, a course of angry drumming battered the roof, leaving little dents in the ceiling before the creature skulked off beneath the trailer with its new injury.

Hands grasped at Phoebe's shoulders – this time friendly ones – and Salina dragged her over to Dom's side before hugging her tightly. There she buried her head and sobbed hysterically like a child in her mother's arms.

"It almost got me... It almost got me and it would have... Oh, God, it would have eaten me...!"

"Shush now, it's over," Salina said in her best comforting voice.

There were now two remaining flames upon the surviving candlesticks, giving the three huddled together in the corner feeble light as they waited for more attacks from the now infuriated fiend or its new stalking companion whose eternal footsteps could still be heard circling the trailer. They each remained that way until the pink light of dawn banished the darkness. Both Dom and Phoebe managed to slip into an uneasy sleep while Salina stared up at the skylight, never once daring to take her eyes from the gaping hole. Eventually the footsteps failed to return from one of its cycles and the world became a hushed, unmoving calmness once more.

Then, sometime after the sun rose fully from behind the hills to the East and the early song of the birds in the scattered trees rang out into the fresh morning air, a phone somewhere within the trailer began to ring.

### Chapter 17 – Alone

Many thoughts passed through Salina's mind as she and Phoebe scrambled about on hands and knees during their frantic search for the cell phone. However, the one dominant image that repeated within her head was when the phone rings off the instant her finger touches the answer button and cruelly leaves her with no signal to return that crucial call. Yet the ringing continued somewhere within the lounge area where Phoebe had thrown it during one of her earlier tantrums.

They had both burst into life the instant the ringing started, jumping from their huddled positions on the floor by Dom's bed like two startled cats from a dustbin can. All terrors from the previous night were temporarily forgotten as the two girls homed in on the sound. They bumped into each other as they flung discarded clothing, magazines and other abandoned items out of their way until finally, with a scream of rejoice, Phoebe plucked her phone from a dusty gap under the seat adjacent to where Dom was still sleeping heavily and put it to her ear. Salina's heart lifted for the first time since the horror started when she heard her friend say "hello: who's that? Can you hear me? Who is it?" all in one breath and see her face light up like a fir tree on Christmas Eve. "What? What are you saying?"

"Ask who they are," Salina managed to get out and stepped over to her side, their heads banging together as she attempted to listen to whoever was on the other end – possibly the most important eavesdrop of her life. "Find out –"

"I don't know what they're on about," Phoebe snapped. "Sounds like some foreign language or... Hello?"

"Let me speak to him," Salina said and attempted to tug the phone away from her hand. But Phoebe pushed her aside with one powerful shove of her hips and turned swiftly away, holding the phone possessively to her ear.

"Outside? Did you say you are _outside_?"

Salina's thumping heart seemed to stop altogether at her words and she stood totally speechless and helpless to move as she watched her friend turn towards the door. Phoebe's hand had even managed to touch the dull metal of the door's bolt before the alarm bells in Salina's head started to wake her from her dumbstruck paralysis _._

Outside? Oh, yeah? Who are you kidding, mister, she thought before screaming her words of warning.

"Stop! It's them things again... playing more of their tricks!"

"Are you crazy?" Phoebe said, ignoring her warning and sliding back the bolt. The sudden sharp click it made as it came free of the doorframe caused a new surge of anger to rise within Salina and she lunged blindly forwards with fists clenched like a crazy woman.

"I said don't fucking open it!"

The sight of her friend's wild face and threatening advance made Phoebe freeze, pull back and then cringe against the wall. She almost dropped the phone as she raised both hands to her head in a protective reaction as Salina began shouting directly into her lowered, flinching face.

"I told you not to open that fucking door, didn't I? How about trying to open the curtains first and actually _looking_ outside to see if there's somebody human out there?"

Salina, with her anger only minimally subsiding, pulled away enough to give Phoebe a chance to retreat across the short distance to the bathroom door. There she stood staring back at her like a timid mouse, the phone clenched tightly and forgotten in her right hand.

"So some complete stranger has your phone number, does he?" Her tone had lowered, although her eyes still portrayed the fury behind them. She took one single stride towards the kitchen window, reached out with both hands and grasped one corner of each curtain. "Well, then, let's take a jolly good look and see who the fuck our hero is!" The curtains were torn open with a loud swishing noise, allowing the fresh morning sunlight to spill over her face as she leant forwards to peer inattentively outside. "There don't seem to be anyone out there. Now isn't that a surprise?"

Eventually, after Salina had stood and glared back at her in expectation for some answer, Phoebe managed to voice her opinion. "But it sounded like someone telling me... telling me they were outside."

"You heard _what?_ A foreign voice? A human voice? Please enlighten me, Phoebe Samuels!"

"I don't know," she snapped, feeling her own anger rising beside fresh tears. "All I could make out was _'Am outside'_. The reception was bad and I thought that somebody was nearby..."

"You could have got us all killed, do you realize that?"

Phoebe lowered her head when she felt her bottom lip begin to tremble, the mixed emotions of anger, confusion and shame becoming suddenly overwhelming. "I just didn't think..."

This caused Salina's anger to drop altogether. She stepped towards her, feeling a desire to wrap a comforting arm around her shoulders but restrained from doing so. "But you never _do_ think, Phoebe, love, do you?" She easily plucked the phone from her friend's hand and saw with no real surprise that the display screen was dark and blank.

"The phone is dead, Phoebe," she told her gently, almost sympathetically. "And I believe it was dead from the start." She handed it back to her friend who now took it back reluctantly as if it was stained with the evil that previously controlled it. Salina then turned away to open the other curtains, being mindful of the area beneath the hole in the skylight until the interior of the trailer was blessed with the sun.

"I think we now have to seriously put our heads together and think of a way out of this." She stopped to gaze casually through the front side window, her face now a total blank. "And it has to be today because we won't survive another night." She turned and looked at Phoebe across the room through the dust that sparkled in shafts of sunlight. "There are two of them now: that weird, spindly thing and the one who prowls outside. And it seems they're getting smarter by the hour."

The cell phone woke Dom from his sleep as it violently returned to another dusty corner somewhere, courtesy of Phoebe's hand. His eyelids hinged open and his mouth blurted out the first things that were on his mind, whether or not he was consciously aware that he was actually speaking.

"I wanna drink... I need to piss. I wanna shit, sis."

Salina immediately poured him a glass of water and crouched down by his side, offering the tumbler to him like an obeisant worshipper. "I can help you with this now," she told him as she held it to his lips, "but you are going to have to wait a bit for the other two."

Dom took four huge gulps, dribbling most of the last mouthful down his chin before slumping weakly back against the pillow. He tried to focus on his sister's face but his vision became like a kaleidoscope of broken images, the pain deep within his skull pounding like a crazy jackhammer. He squeezed his eyelids shut, flinching when he felt Salina's hand touch his bandaged forehead and smear the collected sweat across his brow.

"How do you feel?" she asked, and although she spoke her words softly, they sounded like sandpaper against wood within his ears. He flinched back further into the cushions thinking, 'how do you think I feel? Do I look okay to you, sis? If I do, then I can assure you it's only superficial.'

"Like crap," he managed to say, although Salina only heard an unintelligible mumble.

"Oh, Dom," she whispered as she continued to stroke her hand over his brow, his skin far too hot beneath her fingers. She ran her eyes across him, seeing his pallid, sickly face, seeing his bandaged skull with a deep crimson circle of dried blood blotted upon its white surface, seeing his bandaged fingers where tattered flesh festered beneath, seeing the bandaged remains of his left leg that had once helped win him awards for sporting events. And she thought: is he going to die? Is he _really_ going to die soon?

She wanted to cry for him right now – it felt like a perfect moment to cry for him – but was just far too numb to shed even one more tear. Instead, she started softly singing some old tune that their father often used to play until her brother drifted back into unconsciousness. Like a lullaby to a baby, she thought ruefully to herself and actually felt one lone tear try to well in the corner of her right eye. She then let her eyelids close to clear that one tear, not witnessing the dark swelling between Dom's legs as his bladder let go.

Then a weak breeze whispered in Salina's ears – ears that could not pick the slightest chirp or twitter of a single bird to break the unnatural stillness for such a beautiful summer's morning – and somehow knew that something was wrong with Phoebe. Slowly and grudgingly, she forced her head to turn towards the doorway where her friend had been standing only moments before, not knowing quite what to expect but knowing it was not going to be good. And what did she see: one door to the outside wide open with sunlight spilling a perfect rectangle of light onto the floor and no Phoebe. Put the two together and what do you get?

"Shit."

Salina moved as if in a dream (maybe this _was_ all a bad dream, for how can so much god-awful crap possible happen for real?) and knew, just _knew_ , that the creature outside had snatched her the same way it had snatched Dave.

Oh, that's great, just fucking great, she thought as she neared the open doorway. Four friends down and still counting, just because I didn't remember to re-lock the door after she... but wait a second... wasn't it still locked? She hesitated at the edge of the threshold where the light of the sun pleasantly warmed her skin but irritated her eyes. But the door was still locked, wasn't it? Phoebe removed the bolt but never got to unlock it. So how did it become _un_ locked? Unless...

"Phoebe!"

All caution was set aside when Salina stuck her head outside, expecting to see the soles of her friend's frantically kicking feet disappearing beneath the belly of the trailer as she was dragged to her long and painful doom, or blood running in rivulets over the concrete base to pool onto the earth below. Instead, the fresh green, almost patch-free grass greeted her.

She turned her head to the left and saw the back of Phoebe, not disappearing underneath but running across the field at a great speed. And she was almost at the hedged boundary that separated the fields from the roadside. She was barely feet away from safety. Feet away from freedom.

Salina's heart almost stopped at the sight – at this sudden and unexpected chance of hope – and when she finally managed to find her tongue she could not stop shouting. Even when her larynx threatened to tear from the roots of her throat, she could not stop screaming for Phoebe to run, run, run!

Phoebe Samuels had made many big mistakes in her short life, some that had cost her lovers, friendships, money, trust and respect amongst others, but none of those mistakes had cost her life. Until now.

Her biggest and final mistake was mainly due to Salina's sudden words of encouragement as she ran like the wind towards the presumed safety of the road, her feet barely touching the ground, her eyes never once leaving the roadside hedgerow that became ever nearer but at the same time appeared to remain the same distance apart. Inside her head, the two dominant words 'keep going' repeated throughout her sprint as her heart thundered in her chest, sending the aftershock pulse to reverberate within her temples.

And how did she find herself out here, doing what others had failed to do? Partly it was because she still truly believed that there really was somebody _human_ out here waiting for them, in spite of what Salina had said. There could be a whole gang of people much like themselves just beyond this field, ready at the rescue with trucks and armed with homemade weapons just like in the movies.

Although it was mostly down to Salina's warning that they could not survive another night trapped inside that hot and stuffy hellhole like two animals waiting for slaughter. Just that one thought of a repeated performance of last night's terrors was enough for something to snap within Phoebe's mind and make her reach out a hand to gently – ever so gently – turn the key in the lock and open the outer door while Salina was busy attending to Dom. The patches spotted around the trailer were so small she could barely see them, and it seemed, after a cursory scan of the proximate surroundings, that the majority of them had disappeared completely. Instead, a withered and yellowing mark of dead grass remained in its place as though the evil that had once stained it had destroyed the life within its once living cells.

There had been no devilish face appearing from above or below the trailer or no sight or sound of the One Who Prowls Outside. After one last nervous glance to find that Salina was still crouching and singing to her brother, oblivious to what was happening only feet away, Phoebe suddenly found herself in mid-air after her legs propelled her from the lip of the doorway and onto the grass below. Then she was running, the small and fresh breeze of the early morning becoming a light wind that whipped her hair across her face as she sped across the field. The smell of the morning dew was strong in her nostrils, and through the focused concentration and blind terror, she managed to think to herself, 'this is the smell of freedom, and soon I will taste it, too.'

Salina's voice came soon after. She was screaming 'run Phoebe, run' from what seemed to be a hundred miles away, and she suddenly thought: is that monster behind me? Is that why she's screaming at me to go, go, go?

Another set of footfalls came to her ears and Phoebe was now convinced it was close behind her – _extremely_ close. Now she knew she had not outwitted it but helped it catch an easy meal. It would soon be upon her – there was no denying its exceptional speed – and it would tear her into a thousand bloody shreds.

But she would not give up without a fight and her legs, boosted by a new surge of fear-induced adrenalin, drove her faster towards the hedgerow. Then as she neared the roadside, the black tarmac surface clearly in her view behind a beaten area of shrubbery, she made the mistake of looking back. It was only a quick, split-second glance, but it was enough to make her realize that the creature behind her – the one with clawed hands at the ready and wide-opened, fanged mouth – was not actually there at all. There was only the shrinking image of the trailer – her former prison for the last forty-odd hours – with her friend's pallid face peering at her from the open doorway.

Phoebe could have easily continued to run the last few feet and dived through the scant branches of the shrubs and onto the safety of the solid road. She could have kept to its centre and followed it towards the village, using any concrete or hard surface to walk across until she found a phone or a vehicle or maybe another person.

But she did not. Instead, she stopped, turned and boasted to Salina how wonderful she was.

"Look... Look... I've done it," she managed to shout, panting like a dog between her words. "I've made it, Sal... I'm free!"

The returning voice was still strong enough to hear. "Just go...For God's sake, just run, girl!"

However, the triumphant feeling of freedom became too much for Phoebe to restrain and a smile broke out across her face. This smile progressed into a grin and, before she had a chance to control it, she found herself laughing out loud, laughing because in the end she had outwitted them all – including her friends. She had just simply ran and now she was free from the man-eating creature with its lurking sentinel companion, free from the patches and free from that fucking caravan.

"Come with me, Sal," she excitedly called, beckoning with her arms. "Come with me... You can do it if you just run now!"

But she saw Salina slowly shake her head before her voice, now low and grave, drifted back on the light breeze, broken by the distance. "I can't... I can't leave my brother behind." There was a short break, then stronger again: "Just carry on going!"

So Phoebe turned round to take those final few steps to the roadside, and that was when she realized that both of her feet had somehow become stuck as if with super glue to the surface of the ground. As she was turning and attempting to swing her left foot before the other, her upper body fell forward, twisting awkwardly as she came to land flat upon her face. With her hands coming up far too late to break the fall, her nose collided with the solid earth, sending a torrent of crimson to explode from her nostrils. She managed a short scream of surprise more than pain before the sudden force upon her chest forced the air from her lungs. And as she lay there with the blood running into her mouth agape with bewilderment, her mind whirled as to why she had now found herself lying face-down on top of the grass.

It was, she concluded through the thick of confusion, only a stray root or a large twine of weeds she had snagged her foot upon – had to be. All she had to do was simply hop up, brush off the dirt and step over to the road. Simple.

But as she slowly pushed her body up from the surface of the grass with the palms of her hands, bending at the knees in readiness to stand back onto her two feet, she discovered that her fingers were disappearing into something icy-cold. After trying to unsuccessfully pull them free from the sudden unpleasant sensation her eyes, not actually wanting to look but unable to resist, slowly turned upwards to discover that her hands were now almost wrist-deep in black sludge that had materialised from nowhere. At the same time, Phoebe also became aware with a conflicting mixture of dawning horror and denial that her feet seemed to be following suit.

Salina was now screaming, no longer with encouragement but with that distinct intonation of terror. And as Phoebe's brain finally admitted to the full extent of her dire situation a voice deep within her own head also started to scream: scream at what she saw; scream at what she knew.

She was going to die, and die inches away from freedom.

Two separate patches had hold of her – one for her hands and one for her feet – and she was sinking into each one. It slowly pulled her in opposite directions and she felt her body begin to stretch as one part went north and one part went south. Phoebe, now seeing the world upside down, looked between her outstretched legs at Salina who was now just a small doll-sized figure in the distance observing from the safety of the trailer. She was no longer screaming out her warnings; Phoebe reckoned that she no longer felt the need.

She opened her mouth to speak for the last time as blood, snot and saliva dribbled into her eyes, forcing them to shut against the last images she would ever see.

"Help me," she said.

It would be safe to say that a part of Salina died along with her friend that morning. The moment she watched helplessly as Phoebe dropped like a lead weight to the ground and witnessed the unmistakable blackness swell like a shadow beneath her hands and feet, she knew that her last true hope and dream of salvation was soon to die with her. Her screams of distress became a hoarse and dry cry that faded within her throat, although the screaming within her mind continued on and on – for how could she possibly stop?

The only favour the creature ever done and ever would do was to come creeping back out from beneath the trailer in the direction of the opened doorway, forcing Salina to turn away when she heard the clank and clang of the metal struts as it climbed its way towards her. Her eyes managed to tear away from Phoebe at the precise moment she ripped into two almost equal segments, saving her from the grisly sight of the earth swallowing the two portions of her body.

Then Salina was slamming the door shut again, having just enough time to twist the key before a massive, almost comical imprint of the creature's fist formed into the door's aluminium sheeting, stopping only millimetres from her nose. She jolted impulsively backwards with a sharp cry and collapsed onto the floor as another series of dents formed around the lock mechanism, threatening to tear it from its fixtures. Upon the floor, she stared in dumbstruck terror as light spilled firstly from the new gaping rents within the door itself, then from the edges as it began to be slowly prised away from its frame.

Now she had to react fast or it would take her like a helpless chick from its nest. In her mind's eye, Salina saw the thing tearing the door off its hinges and peering briefly inside like a hungry wolf into a chicken's den before crawling towards her cowering, helpless form, its claws and teeth at the ready. With that image still playing in her head she was up onto her feet in an instant and yanking the door back with all her might against the strength of the creature's fingertips as it attempted to get a hold upon its edging. But as she pulled upon the handle, it began to bend steadily away from the wrecked remnants of the lock, threatening to uproot from its anchoring bolts and screws. She had just enough time and strength remaining to keep it shut against the frame in order to shoot the large bolt across before the lock finally ripped cleanly away into her hand, leaving a large, gaping hole in its place.

A sound just beyond the door followed immediately after. It started with an almost pitiful whining but grew and grew into an inhuman wail of fury. Salina braced herself for another bout of poundings that would surely destroy what remained between her and it, but, to her surprise and most definite relief, the wails fell away until only that unnatural stillness filled the hot summer's air once more.

But it would come again, and will that single bolt be strong enough? Salina knew it would not – had more chance of holding out against a herd of buffalo – but had no choice other than waiting to find out. She stumbled more than walked backwards to the other end of the trailer, never taking her eyes from the battered door until she slumped onto the floor by her sleeping brother's side.

Wow! What a morning, she heard a little voice say somewhere inside her skull before turning her head to one side and retching until she was sure her eyeballs would squeeze from their sockets. Moments later, she was burying her head resignedly into her knees and wrapping both arms tightly around her calves as Phoebe once did, shivering despite the heat. And there, amazingly, she fell almost immediately into a deep sleep.

Dom opened his eyes as his sister fell into a world of dreams. His head turned towards her, the pain no longer hindering his movements, and smiled. She looked beautiful as she slept; even in her torment, she would always be his beautiful little sister. His smile widened before his mouth opened to speak the words, "They come from the darkness, sis".

Then Dom Squires turned his head back round, closed his eyes again and finally died of the brain haemorrhage he sustained in his fall against the TV table, leaving Salina as the lone survivor.

Leaving her completely alone.

"Who are you?"

The trailer was dark, assuming this was where Salina was now standing, and only a faint hint of light most probably from the moon illuminated the crouching figure before her. She knew this had to be a dream for she was naked once more, just like in the previous dream where she found herself alone on the moors.

"Who are you?" After her repeated question there was a slight stirring from the human shape huddled on the floor with what seemed like its arms – it was so hard to tell in such poor light – tightly wrapped around its legs. Its hair draped like a curtain across its face, hiding its features within the deeper shadows that cloaked its body.

Salina wanted to step forward but dared not, wanted to turn away but dared not. This was a dream, but somehow she felt there was more to this than just her unconscious imagination.

"Why are you sitting there?" It was a stupid question and knew it was, but she had to say something, anything, to get a response. Now Salina was beginning to feel more irritated than afraid and, because she believed to be more in control of this dream, she wanted this intruder to know about it.

"Answer me," she said in a raised and snappier tone. She took one single step towards it as though to emphasize her boldness. "Tell me who you are!"

Now the being before her started to raise its head ever so slowly, and at first she presumed it to be just a trick of the light – dream or no dream. But once its head was facing hers, still masked by shadow, Salina started to feel that deep inner fear rising.

Now the figure just sat and looked back at her in utter silence for what seemed like ages (did time actually exist in dreams?) and, although the veil of darkness continued to obscure its eyes, Salina felt its cold stare bore into her, through her and into her very soul. A coldness, one that could not be compared to any experienced in her conscious life, seemed to turn the blood in her veins into streams of icy water.

It appeared to be waiting. Was it for another question or for a more physical reaction? Salina no longer wanted to know – her curiosity for this mysterious person had suddenly dissolved – and she now wanted nothing more but to be as far away from it as possible. When she made to step backwards, she found, just like in a typical nightmare fashion, that both her feet were stuck firmly to the floor. Every part of her body from the lids of her eyes to the joints in her toes now seemed tightly locked together as if all her bones and muscles had fused into one.

Still it waited – waited within that silent darkness. And as she stood naked and vulnerable before it, Salina fancied that she could feel it invading her head, prying into her thoughts with mental probes. Violating her mind.

Then a final question managed to form upon her lips, and before she could even contemplate what she would be asking the words were spilling freely from her mouth.

"Where do you come from?"

This caused an immediate reaction from the dark shape and it shifted upon the unseen floor. The hair spilling across its face slipped back to reveal female features that were caught in perfect definition by the surreal light. Now Salina could clearly see it for the first time and, if she did not know any better, would have believed she was looking directly into a mirror.

It wore her face. It had her nose, her lips, the same high cheekbones and structure of the jaw. She also had that same blemish of a scar upon her left brow she sustained at age six when play fighting with Dom.

But it was not her eyes that stared back – that is, of course, if they could be portrayed as eyes. They would be better described as windows into hell.

Then it spoke, but the sounds that spilled from its mouth could not be human, let alone her own voice. It was the deepest tone she had ever had to hear and it penetrated through her body like grating thunder. And within that voice there were many others – some were only light whispers that were all but lost above the fluctuating phonetic chorus that spoke as one.

It said, "We come from the darrrrrrrknesssssssssssss."

Salina's eyes snapped open and her arms jerked from her knees, sending the knuckles of her left hand to crack painfully upon the bottom wooden panel of the seat where Dom was lying. She looked up, firstly to make sure that the dream really _was_ just a dream, and then towards her brother. His head had shifted upon the cushions and he now directly faced her, and the instant Salina focused upon his white and bloodless skin she knew he was as dead as dead could be.

To his sister, Dom appeared to have died with a quizzical expression upon his face by the angle his wide-opened, glazy eyes looked down at her, and the way his eyebrows had raised in a permanent position above. He could almost be saying, "What are you doing here? I thought you would have left ages ago."

What was it that finally killed him, she mused absently, almost apathetically. Was it thrombosis from his wounded leg in which she tried so desperately to prevent? The knock to his head during that fall? Loss of blood? Blood poisoning? Something else?

But she was now far too numb in body, mind and spirit to think or feel anything anymore: only that she felt like an empty shell where the life that once occupied it had simply slipped silently away. Everyone was dead and she wanted to be dead with them. And if she did have an emotion, it would be one of envy.

Now, as she sat alone upon the hard floor with only the dead-eyed stare from the cooling body of her brother for company, Salina Squires returned her head to her knees once again, closed her eyes and waited: waited for death to come to her. And as the sun reached its zenith and began its slow decline towards the west she slipped easily back into sleep: a sleep where there were no thoughts, no memories, no visions and no sound.

Until the rapping at the door and the human voices came.

### Chapter 18 – The rescue

Surely this is another dream, for how could there be people outside the caravan? I mean _actual_ people?

Salina's eyes opened lazily and drifted firstly to the bright patterns of sunlight across the floor (no change there) then straight up to her left where Dom, her beloved brother, continued to be lying dead with that strange look still fixed upon his face (no change there, either). There was yet no corpse sitting up and talking through dead lips as they sometimes do in strange dreams or nightmares, no surreal images or changing of scenery. But hey, this could be only the beginnings of a dream, so let's give it a bit of a chance.

She then looked to her right at the window with the half-drawn curtains where the blazing sun still radiated its blessed light. "Don't seem like a dream to me," she reminded herself out loud.

Another session of drumbeats – these sounding urgent but nothing like the ferocious poundings created by the creature – rapped against the door.

"Hello, in there," a distinctly human voice – male and young – followed shortly. "Is there anyone inside?"

Salina slapped both her palms against the rough carpeted floor for support and sat bolt upright, jolting her body enough to send a sharp stabbing pain across her lower back.

Another male voice came, this one sounding a little older and speaking from further away. "Wayne, come on now. It's not worth the risk!"

Seemingly ignoring his older companion, the younger one continued with his pressing questions. "Is anybody in there? Can you come to the door? It's okay to come out... we're here to rescue you!"

With that last bout of hollering Salina began to stand, hesitated, and then slumped back onto her arse again. Why bother, she told herself as she sat and stared fixedly at the door. It's far too absurd to be real people out there. If there really were a genuine person outside, then he would be monster chow by now. Obviously, that thing has now learnt to mimic voices and is now trying to trick me out rather than starve me or smoke me out with its torments as it did with Phoebe. In fact, why doesn't the stupid fucking thing just kick what remains of the door? A small bolt like _that_ isn't going to stop it if the lazy bastard thing just took one more go at it...

"Hello? Don't be afraid – we're friendly!"

...Or is it just having a bit of fun terrorizing me, getting a kick out of scaring the living shit out of its victims before it eats them alive? That sounds more like it. Maybe it makes them taste sweeter.

"Whoever's in there, just take a look out the window and you'll see we are not one of them!"

_One of them._ So Salina's head turned towards the sunlit window to her right again and had that curious urge to obey the voice and peep out from the gap in the curtains, if only to witness the creature's lips bizarrely moving as it talked like a human. That could even be amusing, she thought as her eyes squinted in the burning light. It could even give me a little laugh just before it came in here and tore me into a thousand pieces. And if you are for real, then fuck you for not coming just a few hours ago and thus saving a couple of other lives.

"Hello, its –"

"Don't bother, Wayne," the older voice cut in. "Whoever's still in there is probably dead already."

Salina heard clumsy footsteps descending upon what remained of the concrete block steps followed by muffled words exchanged between them. The sound of a car door shutting came next before an engine revving boisterously. She could even smell a whiff of car fumes and thought: now that's what I call a detailed dream.

Then Salina's heart seem to stop altogether, followed by her breath and seemingly every other bodily function. The only thing that appeared to be working was some biological alarm bell warbling deep within her brain incorporating a vocal undertone that repeated the words: 'You stupid idiot!'

"I let them go away, didn't I?" she told the silent trailer. "Some people finally came to rescue me and I just sat here on my bum and ignored them."

Salina was on her feet before she even knew it. She tore the curtains of the right-side window the rest of the way open and saw immediately that there was indeed a car, which looked to be a tatty but nonetheless healthy Volkswagen estate, sitting just a few feet beyond where she now stood. The sunlight reflecting off the vehicle's glass made it almost impossible to see within, but she was positive there was a third person inside.

Then she was banging furiously upon the window and screaming, "Stop, for God's sake!" at the top of her lungs. The engine revved even louder before it started to ease forward at a steady pace and begin to roll away from the trailer. It headed in the opposite direction of the road for a short distance before making a U-turn and returning in the direction it came. Even as the vehicle passed her on its way back to the roadside, Salina was still screaming and banging against the glass.

They were going. Nobody saw her yelling at the window. She had blown her one and only chance to get out of her prison and soon-to-be tomb. Now she will definitely die here alone one way or another.

But not before one last fight. She sped past the kitchen window on her way to the door and glimpsed the tail end of the car sweeping across the grass and building up speed. In her panic Salina's hands scratched blindly about the door in their search for a handle that was no longer there before reaching down to grapple with the bolt, wriggling its small metal knob up and down in her attempt to draw it back. She screamed out in frustration as it slid slowly and reluctantly across the latch before hearing the satisfying sound of a sharp 'click' when it finally came free of the catch.

Salina almost spilled onto the grass outside when the door suddenly swung open wide, making her grab frantically for its frame to stop from continuing over the lip of the doorway.

"Stop, you bastards!" Both arms were straight up in the air and waving crazily, feet hopping precariously on the edge of the partially dismantled steps. "Can't you fucking see me now? I'm here. For God's sake, look at me!"

The Volkswagen did not stop. In fact, it appeared to gain speed. It seemed that in their haste to be gone from this lonely place, nobody in the car happened to look back one last time to see her jumping excitedly by the doorway. Even after her right foot slipped from the edge of the step and she toppled onto the sun-hardened earth below, directly in view of whoever would take that one-second glimpse into their rear-view mirror, Salina remained unnoticed.

Now she was on the grass, face down, exposed and completely vulnerable. She expected to hear the 'clank-bang' sounds from beneath the trailer as the thing came crawling swiftly towards her, or the icy-coldness of one of the patches as it stained the earth below her, or both at the same time for good measure.

But right now, she had a choice to make: get up while she still had a chance or give in and die. Flicking a curtain of hair from her eyes, Salina looked up at the tail end of the car and, although it could have only been a mere illusion, it appeared that it had frozen in mid-action like a paused video image. It was as though time itself had stopped enough for her to make that one vital decision.

What was the point? I will get up, run, holler and scream some more, one part of her mind reasoned. The car will join the road and be gone again, leaving me stranded. Yet I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by getting back onto my own two feet and trying, or crawl back to that hot tin can once more and sit out the rest of my short days with only the festering corpse of my brother for company.

The decision was made. Salina's feet twitched upon the grass and then she was rising, rising, rising. The paused image of reality burst immediately back into life again and she lurched forward, her hands reaching for the sky as before, her jaw opened wide to allow that final, desperate cry for help to escape.

Then the car took a sharp turn to the left, drove the final short distance to the road and disappeared from sight behind the hedgerow, seemingly never slowing the slightest for the manoeuvre.

"Stop!" she screamed again but, although the intention was there, her voice was no longer willing. She stumbled awkwardly forwards, the strength already draining rapidly from her legs along with that final ounce of hope. Yet somehow she was running again, one leg pumping before the other in numb automation, pushing her forward and away from the trailer.

"Stop... you... bastards." This was now only a mere husky whisper within her parched throat. Her eyes, now welling with tears of shattered hope, squeezed tightly shut against the light breeze created by her speed. She continued on that way, running in blind darkness until one foot clipped the other, sending her tumbling back onto the hard earth. The pain that shot up from her right foot as it twisted too far to one side was barely noticed, but when she attempted to gain her feet again she found that her ankle could no longer support her weight. Salina crawled instead, pulling tufts of grass from the dry and cracked soil as she hoisted her body along the surface.

Stop... Stop... I know you see me..."

Was that the squeal of tyres upon road she heard? The dropping speed of an engine? She stopped crawling, the strength now gone from her arms anyway, and listened. With her face down upon the grass, snot dripping from her nose and tears flowing across her cheeks, her ears believed they heard that distinctive sound of an engine reversing. Then her eyes, blurry with the tears, followed the progress of the car through the gaps in the hedgerow, glimpsing the Volkswagen's red bodywork as it reversed back along the road.

Salina felt a coldness creep upwards towards her upper body, seeping across the earth beneath where she lay, but she made not the slightest attempt to move. Instead, she listened keenly, her ears following the vehicle's course back up the road. It is slowing again... maybe stopping... trying to find a place to turn...

The car did turn. It swung back onto the field and continued driving backwards towards where she was lying. Salina tilted her head up and saw from ground level that the car was heading directly for her, saw the eternal shadow from beneath its metal belly speeding across the grass as its wheels spun and its exhaust pumped. And was that somebody hanging out the passenger's side window? Was that somebody actually looking directly at _her_?

"I knew it," that somebody shouted above the whirring of the engine, and then, "Shit, she's in trouble!"

And yes, she was in trouble. In fact, one of her feet had begun to sink into dark sludge, the toes already below the surface.

The car passed mere inches from Salina's outstretched fingertips and rapidly slowed to a dead stop. The gears crunched and the tyres spun, sending out chunks of grass and dry turf into the air like a crazy lawnmower before jolting forward again.

Now Salina reluctantly accepted that she was indeed in trouble when something colder than the icy slime slipped around the sinking ankle of her left leg and trailed across her flesh like a large, repulsive earthworm. Not wanting to see, not wanting to acknowledge the dire situation she was now in, her eyes were kept riveted to the approaching car as it steered towards her now crouching form.

"Grab hold of the side!" The young man, the one whose voice she recognized from outside the trailer, swung his door open wide after the car passed her for the second time and screeched to an abrupt halt only inches away. His arm extended towards Salina's outstretched arm and then the vehicle was rolling backwards once again, this time ever so slowly, easing closer and closer as she remained upon her knees, reaching out for her young hero.

Now her right foot was following her left into the blackening patch, and that thing – that living _something –_ was moving between them, slipping and twisting its icy tentacle-like form within the sludgy depths.

"Grab the side of the door frame and we'll pull you out. Quickly!"

Salina reached out with both hands. The tips of her fingers lightly touched the sun-warmed metallic frame of the car and then she was grasping it with all her strength, her knuckles turning white with the effort. The young man's voice bellowed out "go, go, go" and the vehicle began to ease forward, his clammy hands clasping over hers as her body stretched across the surface of the grass. "Hold on tightly, girl," he told her. "Just you hold on!"

Salina was now sinking, sinking into the icy liquid and was slowly being squeezed through a tiny opening as her good friend Doug had been. No matter how much pulling and heaving, she believed she was going down, down, down... Her fingers slipped, reached again and took a stronger hold around the door frame. The youth's hands returned to hers, this time taking hold of her wrists before the car inched forwards for another attempt, lifting her upper body from the ground.

"Slowly, now," the youth instructed his driver. "Go easy –"

"If they stall it, then we're all fucked," his friend warned, his voice rising with panic.

"Just try, okay?"

Now she felt as though she was being tortured upon a rack. All the bones and sinew between her trapped kneecaps and the tips of her fingers stretched to their limits by the force of the vehicle. And somewhere within the back of her mind she wondered if her leg would snap in two as Dom's did, or maybe both of them, and would leave them behind to be sucked into the black, muddy mass.

"She's slipping... I can't hold her –"

Salina knew, and she had no doubt that the others in the car also knew, that this was her final chance. If she should lose her grip once more then it would be game over for her and she would die as her friend Phoebe and Casey had died: inches away from freedom.

"Hold on, girl..."

Then her hands were gone and were grasping freely in the air. Then they were grabbing at the glass edge of the passenger's half-open window. Then she was screaming "let... go... of... me, you son... of a bitch" to whatever had hold of her feet within the dark patch. She fiercely fought and struggling with the last of her strength as the car continued onwards, barely feeling the white-hot pain from her twisted ankle.

Then she was suddenly free of the earth. There was a loud sucking sound just before her feet slipped from the black patch, flipping great chunks of wet soil high into the air. They dragged her across the field towards the roadside. With her feet bumping across the grassy terrain, she looked like some stuntwoman on her latest movie. But she was not going to let go of the doorframe, no way. Even if the driver decided to floor the accelerator, she was never going to let go until her arms tore from their roots. And while she clung on with what little remained of her strength, Salina Squires closed her eyes and laughed and laughed and laughed...

She was still laughing long after she awoke and opened her eyelids, and it was only after her confused mind registered where she actually was did those chuckles wind down to a dead stop.

Salina could not at first understand – completely refused to understand, in fact – why the car's revving engine had suddenly been replaced by complete silence and why the view of a speeding road had been replaced by the all too familiar interior of her uncle's trailer.

"Wait a minute... Where...?"

She snapped her head to the left and yes, the body of her brother was still there by her side with that same expression of surprise frozen on his face. ' _Are you still here_ , _sis?_ ' that look now seemed to be saying. ' _I thought you had gotten cleanly away.'_

"I'm dreaming," she mumbled, her lower jaw so rigid it could barely work. "I'm having another nightmare." Slowly she reached up to her face with both hands and began rubbing at her disbelieving eyes. Collected sweat splashed from her temples and spattered onto the thinly worn carpet. "Wake up, for God's sake. This can't be right..."

Salina dared to open her eyes again, but the deathly silence that replaced the comforting hum of the engine was plenty enough to tell her that this was one dream from which she was never going to waken.

"But I got away from you," she whispered, and then louder: "I got away from you, you bastards!" Anger suddenly flushed through her body like a hot wave, turning her face a deep red, and she was clambering back onto her feet. "You've done it to me again, haven't you? You've been playing games with me again, you fuckers!"

Dizziness caused by the heat and dehydration threatened to buckle her legs once more and she almost blacked out – would probably have welcomed it – but managed to stay upright until the feeling passed.

"You think you can beat me?" she screamed. "You think you can screw with my head and break me, eh?"

Again, only the silence.

"Well, here I am, you fuckers. Come out, you cowardly bastards, and fight me face to –"

As if in answer to this, the trailer shuddered violently as though an earth tremor had ripped through the earth below. A few ornaments and half-burnt candlesticks fell to the floor with a crash, and if Salina hadn't of had a firm grip upon the cupboard door knob she would have followed suit. Then the shuddering stopped as suddenly as it came, leaving Salina standing poised at the ready in anticipation, her eyes darting nervously from left to right.

"Come on, what you waiting for?" she muttered under her breath after what seemed an eternity of waiting, her fingers still locked around the knob with a vice-like grip. "Come on... Come on... Come on..."

Then there was another movement, but this time it was not from outside the trailer but from somewhere within. Salina immediately froze – even her heartbeat seemed to freeze – as she intently listened and pinpointed exactly where the noise was coming from.

It was the sound of the bathroom door handle, still taped together with the smaller bedroom's handle. It moved up and down, up and down, up and down...

"You sneaky bastards," she said under her breath, and could not help but smile in admiration. "You distracted my mind so you could get inside, didn't you?"

And so it seemed that while she was sleeping and dreaming of her daring escape, the thing outside had finally found its way within the trailer's walls.

### Chapter 19 – Outside

So, what would be her next move? Standing at the cupboard door with her hands still grasping its handles, Salina Squires could only stare at the bathroom door as the thing inside began to force its way out.

She estimated somewhere within her immobilised brain that she now had only seconds until it broke free of the flimsy door. This time there was no waiting car or young hero outside to rescue her as in what she now reluctantly accepted as a dream, and if she did decide to go for her only remaining option, she would have to run the gauntlet of patches as Phoebe did.

Just as her hand relaxed slightly on the doorknob the trailer shuddered violently again, making her tighten her grip even more. Her eyes darted about wildly as if trying to determine where the disturbance was coming from, but deep down she already knew. It was the patches. They had finally broken free from the concrete base where the trailer sat and were now going to work on the under-structure. In her mind, she could easily visualise the many arms reaching out and tearing off chunks of metal as they did with the Chrysler to claim Casey.

Now Salina's wild eyes happened upon one of the kitchen knives that Phoebe had dropped the previous night, lying on the living area's old and eroded carpet. They stopped, locked and then focused upon the dormant blade. Then, just as her mind began to make the decision to retrieve the weapon or stay put, the trailer's two sets of back wheels sank deep into black sludge, tipping its far end downwards; its rear end hit the earth with a bump. The remaining ornaments, utensils, plates – whatever was not fixed down – came crashing to the ground. Salina screamed out with shock as her knees buckled, and she, too, collapsed onto the floor in a crumpled heap. But the trailer did not stay that way for long. It continued to sink like a ship, its far end slipping further and further into the earth, the angle becoming more pronounced.

"Oh, this is fucking great," she muttered as she stretched out her right arm and clamped her fingers around the knife's handle. It felt reassuringly good in her grasp and the familiarity of its feel and weight gave her another boost of courage.

She slowly rose again, having to place her feet in a wide stance to stop from tipping forwards. Another jolt rocked the trailer before it slipped further down, the panelled walls creaking like an old wooden ship on rough waters. Splinters from the bathroom door suddenly appeared like teeth from a shark's open mouth as a hand punctured through the wood. The hand this time seemed less human than the one that had Phoebe's hair in its grip, although she believed it had belonged to the same being. Had it changed or developed or metamorphosed or whatever one would care to call it? All she knew for sure was that her time was now up and she had only a few choices remaining.

Objects were sliding to the back of the trailer to collect in a heap and clutter the master bedroom's dividing wall. Salina hung on to the back window frame as the angle became more acute, and she wondered how long it would be before the main door, her only means of escape, would become engulfed by the earth, trapping her inside for sure.

_Run!_ She heard that word in her mind and it made perfect sense. It was the only thing she could possibly do to save her skin – or at least try. Instead, she froze and simply watched the intruding hand gently feel the outside surface of the door it had punctured through as though for precautionary measures. Its rudimental fingers tickled the wood and slid up and down its smooth and splintered plane before slipping back through the gaping hole it had created.

Run now!

Yes, if she would sprint for the exit now before that thing could break what remained of the door... But that was its trick, wasn't it? The bathroom door was holding it back no more than a sheet of flimsy paper would. It was only waiting for her to make her move before it pounced like a Trapdoor spider.

Salina waited. She held her breath. Her heart was pumping, pumping, pumping in her chest, the knife held out at arms length before her. She was ready to fight the thing when it finally burst through and would try to kill it or at least maim it enough to make her exit before the whole damn trailer disappeared forever into the black sludge. She was ready – with all her heart, she was ready – until the cold body of her brother slid from his deathbed and toppled onto the floor.

His staring, dead eyes rolled up into his skull and his mouth gaped open, wiping that strangely frozen look of surprise from his waxy face. Instead, his features took on the appearance of someone who had died under torture, and for all he had suffered, this new look seemed to be more suitable.

Something snapped within Salina's mind. It was as if seeing Dom's corpse tumbling to the hard floor was the final, ultimate insult – the symbol of their failure to escape the metallic prison walls of the trailer. The adrenalin induced energy and aggression that had built to boiling point just seemed to seep rapidly away like escaping steam. Her knees simply unhinged, sending her collapsing onto the sloping front bench where she sat in a shapeless heap as though all her bones had suddenly been removed.

"Dom..." She could barely whisper his name as she shook her head slowly. The knife felt like a great weight in her hand where it remained balanced on her open palm. Tears now blurred her vision and the blood in her face burned a deep red. "Dom... What's the point now, Dom?"

Now, as she gazed upon the lifeless shape of her brother's body, her mind began to reel off more thoughts again, this time with a different purpose. There was, she decided, an alternative course of action that she would take. She was going to replace her heroic fight and dash for the door by a less productive but equally dramatic grand finale.

Eventually her hand folded slowly around the knife's handle, but, instead of pointing it in the direction of the bathroom with its hidden intruder, she turned its deadly point inwards towards her own chest.

_Suicide?_ Her mind refused to say it. Her mind denied any association with the meaning. All she was doing was easing her own dire situation, wasn't she; making the final moment more endurable, if ever there was such a thing.

More rattling and clanging sounded from below as fiendish arms stretched out from the ruptured concrete to tear away the flooring piece by piece. Almost directly beneath her feet, a loud cracking noise vibrated through the entire structure. Yet Salina heard none of this, and although her eyes stared dead ahead, focused on the back of the trailer, they also saw nothing. She was trying to prepare herself for death: death from her own hand rather than the long, drawn out one she would surely endure from that indescribable creature, or from those reaching arms when they finally burst through the floor. And even if she would have been lucky enough to escape from this holiday home-cum-hellhole, an even more barbaric demise awaited her from one of those black patches.

The correct positioning of the knife did not even register within her mind – all she wanted now was to be lying beside her brother and be gone from this place, in spirit if not from body. She was only waiting for the decisive moment when she would jab her hand forward and plunge the knife in deep.

And it would all be finally over.

Because of her ability to filter out all sights and sounds of the mayhem around her, Salina failed to notice that somebody or _something_ was watching her from the window behind where she sat with the knife millimetres from her ribcage. The One Who Prowls Outside had his forehead pressed against the glass, staring intently at the back of her head. He scrutinized her with great interest like some specimen in a lab, the unearthly mind within its skull deliberating on its evil intentions.

Only when he brought his hands up level with his face and clapped the flats of his palms hard against the glass did he give away his position, causing Salina to let out a short yelp of surprise and stab herself inadvertently, albeit superficially. She then turned round. Ever so slowly, she twisted in her seat to find what had startled her from her moment of morbid deliberation through the many other noises and threats that had exploded from all around. Before she even saw the face on the other side of the window – the face she knew and loved since as far back as she could remember – Salina Squires somehow foresaw who would be glaring back at her with a malicious smile frozen upon its lips.

It was her uncle who was the mysterious One Who Prowls Outside; her dead father's dearest relative who had come back from a place she could not – would not – dare to understand. He just stood there and stared back at her, separated by only millimetres of glass, his naked and hairless body glistening like wax in the sunlight. His complexion appeared smoother, healthier and younger, but there was no doubt that the figure who had helped to terrorise her and Phoebe throughout the night was her Uncle Dick.

Then his eyes caught hers, eyes that were not really eyes at all but some kind of black chasm into hell itself. The darkness within paralysed her, forcing her to see all the way into the abyss of all blackness. From there she witnessed her uncle's final memories, his last torturous moments as a human as he entered the patch that had invaded his home. She felt his agony as he slowly suffocated by the slimy soil that filled his nostrils and open mouth that screamed silently, even during his slow digestion. He was then taken far beyond the asphyxiating earth, far beyond the physical world below her feet. She saw only an infinitesimal glimpse of what man portrays as hell as his soul and body was degraded before his metamorphosis into an angel of death. And this was far more than enough for Salina to endure.

If she had not snapped out of her trance-like state for what must have only been mere seconds, her brain would have surely degenerated into a gibbering mass of mindless tissue. And if not for the terror releasing scream that followed, a scream that crescendoed and overpowered every other sound throughout the trailer, her life would have surely blinked-out like an extinguished flame.

She was now stumbling blindly backwards, half-stepping, half-sliding along the descending gangway towards the exit, eyes desperately fighting to tear away from the figure behind the glass. All conceptions of suicide or fighting had gone from her head: the one dominating thought now was to be as far away from those windows into hell as she could possibly get.

Salina reached what remained of the main door, her momentum abruptly halted by the dividing bedroom wall. Without pausing to think, (she seemed momentarily beyond all ways of thinking) she tried pushing it open.

"Open, you bastard!" she screamed when it did not budge. "Don't you do this to me, you ..." She thrust her body at the tattered remains, not remembering in her panic that the bolt was still jammed within its lock. Just as her hand came down with the intention of tearing more from the gaping hole, maybe to widen it enough to clamber through, Salina's prediction unfortunately came true.

The creature within the bathroom was waiting for this very moment for her to make her attempt to escape. The door between it and Salina was no more a barrier than a piece of cardboard and it forced it open with one powerful kick. It lunged at her, grabbing her long hair with its pale, talon-like fingers and violently forced her head back. New enforced terror overrode the pain that exploded in her neck and scalp and she screamed out again. Fortunately, she still had hold of the knife and reacted automatically, thrusting the blade upwards and then downwards behind her head in a wide arc. It struck the thing squarely between the shoulder blades and sunk in deep, wedging between bones. Clear, viscous liquid spattered across the wall and ceiling just before the thing released a high, almost child-like screech of pain and surprise. The grip on Salina's hair loosened and she slipped easily from its claws, falling forward against the door. There was a large cracking sound as the palms of her hands slapped against the broken panel but it remained intact, continuing to hold her prisoner. Just as she began pummelling at the door in what she believed was to be her final opportunity of escape, the creature sprung upon her again, smashing its full weight into her back and sending them both crashing through the door.

Salina did not fall far as the trailer's back end had now sunk into the earth, making the doorway practically level with the ground. The concrete block steps had already disappeared within the black mass and she fell unhindered and relatively unscathed onto the grass. The welcoming blue of the sky was the first thing she saw after settling onto her back: a sight she had strongly believed she would never see again. Forcing herself up onto one elbow, Salina faced the external face of the trailer for the first time in what seemed like centuries, not believing she was actually free from its confining walls. By pure luck, she must have rolled after falling through the door, finding herself only a few yards away from the sinking wreck.

But the gratifying sight before her soon turned sour when she witnessed the hideous mass of arm-like tentacles reaching from the blackness, tearing at the underside of the tilted structure as they did with the Chrysler. The thunderous sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the still air as they moved with unearthly speed, breaking away metalwork and wood like a giant sea creature stripping the remains of a sinking ship. Next, her eyes stole a glance at her assailant who was lying motionlessly a few inches away with its face buried deep in the grass and both of its long, spindly arms stretched fully out in front. The knife was still protruding from its back with the blade sunk almost halfway into its strange, pallid flesh. Nevertheless, it was still breathing, although erratically, and therefore alive and potentially still deadly. She could clearly see the knife rising and falling with each breath it took. What she wanted to do right now was get up on her feet, stamp onto the handle and drive the remainder of the blade all the way to its hilt. That would be good if only she could find the strength to stand.

Suddenly remembering her greatest fear her eyes nervously darted from side to side, searching wildly for that lurking figure who possessed her uncle's body. The One Who Prowls Outside was here somewhere: she could sense his presence like an approaching thundercloud. He would be waiting for her, most probably watching her right now with those eyes that were linked to a world beyond darkness.

Yes, she should be going now. Best not be hanging around with grasping arms and murderous creatures only inches away, nice day or not. She managed to find some strength in her limbs to rise into a sitting position, although it took a great effort to do so; the fatigue from fear, lack of sleep and hunger was now taking its toll.

The trailer creaked and groaned before slipping further into the black bog and Salina wondered how long she would have had if she had remained inside. That was, of course, if she had not gone ahead and killed herself.

Half the doorway sank below the surface, the slime seeping inside to pool against the inner walls like thick treacle. The mass of arms continued to dismantle the under-structure with great enthusiasm, and she could now see some of them reaching inside through the rents they created – reaching for new prey.

Salina desperately wanted to shut her eyes, but all she could do at this moment was sit and stare as the earth completely swallowed her beloved caravan – her childhood refuge.

But she knew she should be going now. Her feet were becoming anxious and jittery, the life rapidly returning to them.

Then, from the sinking end of the trailer, came the shadows of not one but two figures, gliding across the grass side by side like silent ghosts. A weak whimper managed to escape Salina's gaping mouth – no more than that, as her throat had become too tightly locked. Her new, greatest fear was back, and this time the trailer's walls no longer separated them. And this time, it appeared, he was not alone.

Surely this can't be true, she desperately told herself as she continued to sit on the grass, her opportunities to run simply ticking away like a speeding clock. But it was true. The tops of two heads appeared above the sinking roof before two figures stepped fully into view. One of them was The One Who Prowls Outside – formerly known as Uncle Dick – and the other one she recognized almost immediately, even though his naked skin was deathly pale and minus every shaft of his previous fair hair. The muscle structure of Doug King's replica appeared to be even larger than normal, making him tower above her uncle's shorter and much slimmer frame. Maybe the difference in their sizes accentuated this, but to Salina, he was notably huge.

Another thing that managed to register in her terrified mind was that he had deep slash marks on his right forearm, and she found herself recalling the previous night when she defended Phoebe from the creature as it attempted to pull her through the skylight.

_So if that thing over there was the one who attacked us last night, then who in hell is that lying by my feet?_ She managed to tear her eyes away briefly to look down at the other lying on the grass. This one appeared to be smaller and less like a human: less developed. Its skin was pallid like Doug's replica, but it lacked muscle tone and bodily shape. She was quickly beginning to work out the evolution of these monsters, and it appeared that their different stages of development were presented to her right here in three magnificent samples.

But the one sure thing the other two human-like creatures had in common was those abhorrent eyes. They seemed to burn from their faces like some weird, dark light, willing her to take a good, long look into them and stay forever.

But it seemed that Salina had to go now. She would have loved to stay behind to say hello to her old friends, surely she would, but right now she had more pressing things to do. Like getting the fuck out of here.

A long gasp managed to escape her lungs when she clambered onto her knees, not realising that she had been holding her breath for the duration of this horror display. Both legs threatened to buckle when she stood on them, but the dizziness that made her head swim was fortunately short-lived and she managed to put one foot before the other. And that was as far as she got.

Something had hold of her ankle. She was sure – absolutely positive – it was one of those tentacle-like arms from a black patch. Talon-like claws punctured the flesh above her anklebone as it resisted her desperate efforts to shake free from its grasp. Salina, screaming with fury rather than fear, turned and kicked at her captor with all the strength and energy remaining. She was willing to scratch, bite or whatever it took to avoid them taking her like the others – to avoid becoming like them.

That was when she realized there was no blackened patch below her at all. There was only the sun-dried grass as before, yet unspoiled by the creeping evil that was now consuming her trailer. It was the creature that had hold of her leg. It was not unconscious as she was led to believe but cunningly waiting for her to make a move again – waiting for her back to be turned. Its bone-white face tilted upwards and glared at her with its blackened eyes. Thick beads of saliva drooled from the left corner of its mouth, which had lifted in a twisted sneer, while mucus ran from flaring nostrils that snorted like some excited animal. It looked like nothing she had ever seen before on God's earth, let alone anyone she had known or loved.

The thing's face snapped away when Salina's free foot struck it squarely on the lower jaw, almost dislocating it from its skull. The grip on her leg loosened only slightly but never let go. Salina screamed out again and began to stamp upon it, balancing precariously on her captive leg to do so. Even after she collapsed back onto the hard earth, knocking the wind from her chest, she continued to kick at it with a great fury.

But it did no good. Even with a knife half buried in its back, the thing began to drag her backwards towards the sinking trailer and the black pit, towards those many other grabbing arms. And she knew for sure that once _they_ had hold of her, it was definitely game over. Its other hand attempted to grab her free ankle but Salina managed to fight it off with her constant kicking and thrashing. At one point she tried throwing in a few punches but found she could barely reach its hand, let alone its face. Screaming out in frustration now as well as terror, she yanked tufts of grass and dry soil from the earth, desperate to get a hold on something, anything, to prevent it form pulling her further towards that giant black patch.

But this also did no good. She inched further and further towards those reaching arms, her fingers scraping fruitlessly along behind her head. She gave out a long warrior-like scream of anger and tried with all her remaining strength to beat the savage thing from her by twisting her body, kicking her legs, punching and clawing at its restraining hand. She even bit wildly at the air like some rabid animal, yelling, cursing and spitting until her energy was depleted.

But it still did no good. She had arrived at the mouth of the pit. The tentacle-like arms were reaching for her now, eager to pull her into their world of suffering and death.

Then one of Salina's hands happened to brush against something solid – something warmed by the sun. Her fingers felt the contours of its shape and her confused and terrified mind could not quite fathom out why this object resembled that of a frying pan and why, if it was so, it was lying out here. Then her mind replayed the image of Phoebe as she stood in the doorway with that same pan raised above her head just before she launched it at one of the patches. _'You could have at least fried them some eggs first,'_ she remembered Dave commenting afterwards.

At first, her hand only lightly touched the metal surface. Then, after realisation took hold, she grabbed the rim of the pan, plucked it from the grass and grasped its wooden handle with a grip of steel. A fresh burst of strength erupted from somewhere within, and with one explosive outburst she sat upright, drew the frying pan over her head and swiped it at the creature's head.

The thing immediately let go of its hold upon her ankle and looked across at her. A more negative expression instantly replaced the previous gleeful look upon its strange face. Was it shock? Seizing the opportunity Salina scrambled to her knees and attacked further, crashing the pan again and again into its face. Saliva flew from its lips in every direction and, after about the eighth blow, clear blood followed suit. Its hands came up far too late to protect itself and, even after it attempted to shield its head, Salina continued to pound at it until the flesh tore from its fingers.

A weak cry erupted from its mouth just before it collapsed to the earth and lay still. Unaware that she was screaming, Salina stood up with the pan poised high above her head ready and waiting. Never again was she going to be fooled by its tricks. Barely able to see through the matted hair across her face and the tears of rage in her eyes, she still managed to notice a small, red mark upon the scant flesh of its left buttock. To her, it looked like a love-heart. It looked, in fact, just like the love-heart that Casey had tattooed on her left bum cheek only weeks before – the one she proudly displayed to her friends in its full glory on that drunken night.

"Casey!" She screamed the name out before even thinking of doing so. Being mindful of the two figures who had fortunately stopped to watch only feet away, Salina stole the opportunity to find if there would be a reaction from the motionless creature by her feet.

"Casey?" she repeated, this time in a calmer yet demanding tone.

The thing slowly raised its head. Its strange blood was streaming from the many open wounds across its bald and pallid skull. The yet undeveloped eyes rolled around in their sockets before focusing upon her.

"Casey, is that you?"

The creature's jaw dropped open. A choked, gurgling sound erupted from its throat before it managed to utter what sounded like words.

"Gaffey... Gaffey..."

Salina's hand wavered in the air. Suddenly the pan felt heavy – too heavy to hold. The thing's face contorted in what must have been pain and she did not know if she felt hatred or compassion for this pathetic being.

"Gaffey," it continued to say in its guttural voice. "Gaffey..."

It was fast – very fast. It sprung upon her with the claws from each hand widely splayed before it, hissing and spitting like a wild cat. But Salina was even faster and she swung the frying pan down hard in a wide arc, cleaving its head almost in two. The thing that was once her best friend let out one short, child-like shriek before collapsing back onto the ground in a shapeless heap. What could only be brain matter leaked out from its opened skull like yolk from a broken egg and seeped onto the grass. Behind them, the two figures opened their mouths and simultaneously released a long, low groan as if they felt their accomplice's pain.

After a short burst of spasmodic twitching from its long, thin legs the creature discharged a gust of air as its chest relaxed. Then it became completely still. Salina continued to stand above it with gritted teeth, desperately holding herself back from pulverising it until it was just a mass of butchered meat. Her hatred and anger for this vile beast seemed to be seeping from every pore in her body, building her to boiling point.

A hand grasped her shoulder, its grip strong and cold. She screamed out sharply and reacted immediately, the overload of adrenalin making her fast. She also hit what had once been Doug King across the face with the frying pan, forcing it to release its hold. Giving Salina the opportunity to strike again, she took another swing at its head, this time hitting it directly on the back of the neck. There was an audible crack. Her attacker went straight down onto its knees with its head lolling to one side.

At first Salina believed – prayed – that the cracking noise was the thing's spine snapping in two. But realising to her horror, all she now held in her hand was a wooden handle whilst the pan rolled in a wide arc across the ground before settling back under the hot sun.

The One Who Prowls Outside made his move. Approaching from behind, he slid the fingers of his right hand within her hair and, using only one arm, lifted her completely from the ground. Large clumps of hair tore away from her scalp as he swung her towards the black pit. Her head felt as though it was on fire and her eyes were bulging: every struggle to resist increased the agony further. The broken handle fell to the grass as her hands came up in an attempt to pull free of its vice-like grip.

But it proved useless: she was no more than a weak kitten compared to his strength. He held Salina above the edge of the sludge with her kicking feet dangling only inches from the grabbing arms that had now abandoned what remained of the trailer. They began to mass together; began to reach out for their prey like a pack of hungry predators.

Then suddenly he released her again. She fell onto a wedge of shattered concrete where she precariously balanced, almost toppling face-first into the giant black patch. The One Who Prowls Outside grabbed her arm and twisted her sharply towards him, wanting her to face him, wanting her to take a good look into his eyes. There was a smile spread across his lips – a very human smile – but one that was nothing but full of malevolence.

When Salina refused to look at him he slapped her, only lightly, but his powerful hand broke the bridge of her nose, sending blood flying and stars to explode within her eyes. She staggered backwards but the thing that looked like her beloved uncle caught her and pulled her upright again.

Yet she continued to squeeze her eyes shut, defying his will. A finger prodded her in the stomach, only lightly, but it was enough to punch the wind from her and send shock waves of pain darting across her abdomen. While she was still retching, he forced her chin upwards, sending more pain to shoot up the muscles of her neck.

"Fuck you," she managed once, but another sharp stab to the stomach stopped any further protestations.

Clearly, he was playing with her, enjoying his tormenting talent before he cast her into the pit like a broken toy. He prodded her again and again, tugged at her hair until more tears flowed and lewdly rubbed her face up and down the cold, naked flesh of his chest, all the while keeping that wicked smile across his face.

Even with the will to fight back completely dispersed along with her adrenalin, Salina refused to open her eyes and look into his: she would rather slowly drown within that black sludge than gaze into those tunnels into hell again.

Now with his patience waning along with his cruel smile, her former uncle grabbed another handful of hair and yanked her head backwards, forcing her eyes to open wide with the searing pain. Another sharp yelp escaped her lips and her hands came up to his, maybe in an attempt to scratch his icy flesh with her worn nails or maybe to feebly pull at his restraining fingers. But it was too late to do anything – far too late. His eyes finally caught hers and locked together, pulling her into the darkness within.

Just then her bladder let go, but she was so mesmerized by those hellish eyes that she did not notice a thing; did not notice that she was babbling like a baby; did not notice that her knees had buckled and was again held upright only by the roots of her hair.

It was an abyss of infinity in there. Deep inside she fell, spinning within the blackness that would eventually lead to a place that man could only dare to imagine. There was nothing but silence, nothing but the suffocating dark as she tumbled further and further into nothingness.

Yet she managed to speak. The word did not come from her falling soul but from her physical body that seemed a billion miles away.

"Uncle?" It was just that one word – that one question – but it proved to be the one that saved her from her spiritual descent into hell. Suddenly she found herself back inside her own body again, and there was an explosion of senses: dazzling sunlight, sound, air and excruciating pain. A long, gasping breath sucked into her lungs like the first breath of a newborn.

The One Who Prowls Outside put her back onto her feet and released his hold on her hair, immediately alleviating her from the agony. At the top of her vision, (for nothing in the whole world could make her look back into those eyes ever again) Salina saw that wicked smile return.

And he appeared to be waiting.

_So now what?_ Salina stood there, her entire body shaking, feeling on the verge of dropping dead on the spot. At first a word caught in her throat, a word that she had no idea what it would be, but managed to hoarsely whisper that same question that struck a note somewhere within that fiend's mind.

"Uncle?"

Slowly but surely, the naked figure that looked obscenely like her Uncle Dick shook his head. His mouth opened and closed once... twice before two simple words, spoken in a voice that barely resembled that of her lost relative's, answered her burning question.

"No... more."

Now it seemed he had grown tired of his plaything. Pulling his right arm back high behind his head, he took a wide swipe at his victim. The wind created in its passing sounded like a swish of a sword and, if it had hit its intended target, would have caused instant death. However, the force of his own power was his downfall. Purely by accident, as Salina stooped to avoid his blow, she fell into him and knocked him off balance.

He fell headfirst into the black pit, breaking the slimy surface with his attacking hand. The many reaching arms surrounded his sinking body ready to engulf him; ready to pull him down into the depths. But they soon recognized him as one of their own and released their hold, dispersing as quickly as they came. Yet he continued to sink – nothing he could do could prevent this. The last that Salina saw of the thing that mimicked her uncle was the twitching toes of both of its feet.

Then he was also gone.

_I think it was about time you were going as well, don't you? Take a long hike, maybe?_ Salina would love to obey that voice in her head but she couldn't help but stand and stare, not believing for one second what had just happened, not believing that she was the one standing here still alive.

Not for much longer if you continue to stay here. Are you forgetting there are more things to watch out for?

Oh, yes. It suddenly dawned on her that there was another one, possibly standing only inches behind her right now. Snapping out of her elated wonder, she spun round on her heels, expecting another set of those eyes from hell to be staring directly into her face.

The thing that was once Doug King was there behind her as she believed, but he was far away, standing in the middle of the field. He stood bolt upright and as still as a statue, watching her watching him. Then he slowly raised one arm and simply pointed directly at her accusingly, as though he was marking her.

The wind was suddenly blowing across Salina's face, cooling her skin, lifting her clammy hair. This was not because the weather had suddenly turned but because she was running like she had never run before towards the hedgerow. This time she was not thinking, not hesitating, not making a sound. This time she was not doing anything but running, running, running until she reached the road that other's had died trying.

Salina could not actually fly, but today she came close. Both of her arms locked together before her like one who is taking a high dive into water, and her legs took a springing jump that launched her entirely through the hedge. She landed on the other side in a heap where the hot tarmac burnt her exposed flesh and scraped strips of skin from her elbows, knees and hands.

Did she give a damn? A scream of victory filled the unnaturally silent air before her heavy panting took priority. She rolled over onto her front and kissed the hot road, burning her lips. Right now, she did not quite know if she was going to laugh, cry, puke or do all three at once. Instead she just clung to the tarmac road as though the earth was about to flip upside down.

She remained that way for about five more minutes before a panicky feeling rose in her stomach. Somewhere that other creature was lurking, possibly making its way over to the roadside right this moment. In places the hedgerow was low enough to peek over, and immediately after being back on her feet again she searched the open field with anxious eyes.

The thing that was once Doug King was still standing in the same spot, but this time only staring at the pit where the trailer once stood for many years. There was no sign of it now, no indication that it had ever been there at all. Those many reaching arms had also gone, and all that remained now was that one giant black patch.

Looking up at the sky, she wondered what hour it was. And if she was to make it back to civilisation before dark, then she had better get going right now.

Fine dust clouded in the air as Salina Squires ran up the single road, mindfully keeping to its middle. She ran as though hell itself had opened up behind her.

And the truth is it really had.

### Epilogue – Another long trip to nowhere

Salina stopped only long enough to dismount her bicycle before continuing on foot, pushing the Kona mountain bike across the dirt track that led to the brow of the hill. She decided it was too risky to ride across these small, sharp rocks that lie just beyond the main road: it would be a disaster if she should get a puncture at this point, now that dusk was looming near.

Right now the relentless sun continued to burn fiercely even in its dying hours, and what little energy she gained from the food and drink she managed to scavenge was rapidly being drained by its heat. Her sweating feet were throbbing, her face and exposed arms were burning and her eyelids felt as though they were doing push-ups every time they struggled to stay open. The pain from her broken nose and torn scalp caused by the thing that mimicked her uncle was easing gradually, although any thoughtless flick of her hair or rub upon her face brought a stark reminder.

But she refused to stop. Even after entering numerous empty homes in search for food, water, phones and, last but not least, other people – human people – she refused to stop for even a five-minute rest. Time was short, sundown was approaching and those things were out there somewhere. How many of them she could only guess, but to know that just one was still at large was enough to keep her from settling for the night in some stranger's home. She had been cooped up enough for the last few days, and to be free out in the open air, exhausted or not exhausted, was too much a blessing to pass by.

Salina now wore trainers and a bright pink top she found in some teenage girl's bedroom during her rummaging. It was a perfect fit for her slight frame, although the logo 'Sexy Little Bitch' she found a little inappropriate. Even though the blue jeans she found in the same wardrobe were slightly too long, there was nothing like good ol' turn-ups to resolve that age-old problem.

But it was like being the only survivor after a nuclear holocaust. Except for the occasional scurrying cat or vermin, there was nobody to be seen. Absolutely nobody. The phones that actually managed to work – land-line as well as mobile – never seemed to have anyone to answer on the other end. There were no emergency services, no directory enquiries, no friends or family. Also, there was no power – meaning no T.V, radio or internet. It may be just those patches fucking with the electric again. Or did it go further than that?

So now the big picture was becoming clear – too clear, in fact – and she did not like what she was seeing and learning. This was obviously no isolated case, and the big question was how much of the country, or even the world, had been attacked by those dark patches?

Salina's head started to pound again, this time not from the heat or low blood sugar but from all those answers she could not give, answers to such questions as why did the things not attack us sooner? It seemed they had the strength to tear that thin, metal door straight from its hinges but chose not to. Was it because they were wary of us... even scared? Maybe they were checking us out. Or were they simply playing with us for some kind of twisted amusement?

And why were they here?

Yes, that _was_ the big question, wasn't it? Why was there a sudden epidemic of man-eating patches and strange, unearthly creatures crawling from them, mimicking their victims? Were they aliens from another world or some dormant, undiscovered life form from millions of years before? She did not think so. Salina wasn't what you would call a religious person, by a long shot, but things spoken about Armageddon and demons sprung to mind.

And what about that all-too-real dream she had about her rescue? Was that really a trick designed by the evil of whatever lives beyond those patches, or was it some kind of... _premonition?_

A fly buzzed around her face and she mindlessly batted it away with a flick of her wrist. Somewhere from some high tree came a twittering of a sparrow and she was momentarily drawn from her deep thoughts, realising from the freshness of its sound that it was probably the first time she recalled hearing a bird since this nightmare began.

And what about Auntie Annie, she continued, rapidly falling back into her inner world of questions and hypotheses. Where was she now? Had she become one of those... one of those...?

But Salina did not want to think any more. She was far too tired to worry about things that did not spur her onwards or give her even the slightest feeling of hope. Instead, she trudged on across the rough track towards the brow of the hill, the bike by her side accompanying her like an old friend, her heavy eyes set on the large plumes of smoke in the far distance – the substance of her curiosity that had caused her to divert from her route.

Her dry tongue slipped across her dry lips and she wished for more water, mentally kicking her own arse for not bringing more of the bottles she found at the country fair. But she supposed she had a valid excuse. Who in their right mind would have wanted to stay for long at a site of a massacre?

Salina tried to banish that memory from her head for the umpteenth time but it kept creeping its way back in like some parasite seeking a host. She had come across that sign by the roadside Casey had spotted before they turned off for the trailer on a day that seemed a thousand years in the past. It was the one that read:

COUNTRY FAYRE AT

SPELLING'S FARM

FOOD – DRINK – LARGE MARKET

SAT 15TH

And, of course, she had to go and take a look. And that was where she found out where the majority of the villagers had disappeared.

It was no pretty sight. As she strolled around, mindful of the large grassy field below her feet but too numb with horror and revulsion to take any precautions, Salina witnessed the aftermath of an ambush. Numerous potholes that could only be the remnants of the black patches or, to her disquietude, the exit holes from where something had crawled out from littered the ground. The patches had not taken all of the people – not whole, that was – and mutilated bodies lay here and there across the grass: some missing limbs, some missing only a hand or a foot. There were two large men still stuck halfway into the earth, their bulging eyes accentuating their purple and swollen faces from the pressure of being forced through an opening less than half their diameter.

It seemed that no one survived – men, women or children of all ages. But someone must have. Somewhere there must be somebody just like her, finding their way back to civilization and safety. And as she hurriedly collected packets of homemade cakes and biscuits and a few small bottles of water, Salina clung to that one hope.

Then, as she mounted the bicycle she found leaning by a large tree above a stall that sold handcrafted dolls, a new thought vanquished the previous positive one: what if there is no more civilization and safety?

Now the edge of the hill was close and Salina could almost see the smoke's point of origin. It seemed, from what she could make out so far, to be coming from a large town or even the city – places made from mortar and concrete built upon more concrete. But as she continued onwards, one thing became clear: the smoke was not from just one area but from many. And this seemed to multiply the nearer she came to the edge.

Stones and pebbles crunched and popped beneath Salina's steadily plodding feet. Her long and deepening shadow bumped over the uneven terrain as it loyally followed her to the hill's edge before coming to a dead stop. The girl that once had a full and loving family, the girl who once had hopes and dreams for the future stood as straight as a soldier within the new breeze that ruffled the hair from her face. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut when the sudden wind stung them and she remained that way for a long time.

The truth was down there in front of her – her world, her future. Eventually Salina Angela Squires took a deep breath and, clasping the frame of the bike in a tight grip as if for moral support, slowly opened her eyes again.

Then she looked. And she saw.

# # #

By

Adam Patterson

March 07 to May 08

