Secrets in the Dark
around it, but a sharp kick cracked it free. The door fell open, revealing the two travel cases she’d packed for the trip to Beth’s.They held necessities. Long-life food. Batteries. Clothes. A small first aid kit. A couple of books, which would have been essential to survive weeks in a cramped room with little other entertainment. Clare hauled them out, gasping as she moved the heavy cases to sit on the sled. She stacked them, then used the twine to tie the shelter down on top of them.
“Got it,” she called to Dorran.
He stood by the car’s front, one hand resting on the lifted bonnet as he alternated his attention from the wrecked engine to the hollow between the trees. “Is anything else in the car useful?”
She looked in the boot. It held jugs of water, long frozen; she left them there. Winterbourne had its own water supply. “Not unless you can get the petrol out of the tank.”
“It is spilt.” Dorran stepped away from the car’s front, still keeping his eyes on the figure posed between the trees. “We will need to retrace our steps to reach the road. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Chapter Nine
Dorran faced the creature blocking their path. “If it attacks, be prepared to run. We can retrieve the sled another day if need be.”
Clare picked up her end of the rope and heaved the sled back onto the path. It rocked before stabilising, and Dorran took up his half of the rope. With the extra weight, Clare had to dig her feet into the snow to get it to move. She was grateful she had Dorran with her. He’d been right when he said it wasn’t something he could do alone.
She tried not to stare at the hollow, even though a morbid curiosity kept pulling her attention towards it. The creature watched them, not blinking, its jaw hanging open. As she got closer, she had a better view of its features. She thought it might have been male before it became warped. It no longer wore any clothes. The skin over its face was drooping as though it had been melted, and the nose was little more than a bump. Its chin seemed to have receded into its neck, until its entire head and throat looked like one form.
They were nearly level with it. The hollow leaned farther out from its cover. Its throat began to vibrate as a low chattering noise came from it. The sound left Clare feeling cold. The face was human, but the mind definitely wasn’t.
Clare kept her head down. Dorran pulled the sled with one hand, but in the other, he held the axe. The blade was raised, not high, but at the ready.
To their right, a narrow, dark gap appeared between the trees: the path leading to Winterbourne. They were giving the hollow the widest berth possible. Even so, the creature reacted to their presence. It sank low, drawing tension into its legs. The chattering grew louder. Its small, watery eyes followed them, seeming too close to the badly spaced teeth in its slack mouth.
Then they were at the path and turning away from the hollow. Clare lifted her head again as she tried to keep moving despite the shaking in her limbs. She could see Dorran in her peripheral vision. He kept the axe at the ready, his head tilted to watch the monster behind them.
We did it. We walked right past one.
An idea rose. Maybe the hollows weren’t attacking because they couldn’t recognise her and Dorran as human. With the masks in place, neither of them had a face.
It almost felt too good to hope for, but if she was right, the possibilities were incredible. It meant they could venture past the house’s walls without being afraid. It meant they could get to Beth—
A branch snapped behind them. She looked over her shoulder. The elation faded. The hollow had followed them. It kept its distance, staying nearly twenty feet back, but when they took a step, so did it.
She wished she could see Dorran’s expression. He flexed his grip on the axe, his shoulders visibly tight even under the layers. They both increased their pace.
The hollow matched them. No, Clare realised. Worse than matched. It’s gaining. It seemed to be picking up speed, its long legs loping forward, its torso bent. The melted, deformed face still fixated on them.
And it was no longer alone. Clare could hear them at their sides: the rustle of dead pine leaves being crushed. Strained branches creaked. She tilted her head and glimpsed scuttling movement among the boughs.
No. Please, not now, not when we’re so close.
She didn’t dare speak to Dorran. Making any kind of noise felt like too much of a risk. They kept their heads down as they dragged the supplies back along the path. Dorran’s mask turned from side to side as he watched their surroundings. He adjusted his hold on the axe again.
The path ahead was growing lighter. They were at the edge of the forest. But the noises around them were surging. The animalistic chattering came again, first from the hollow following in their wake, then echoed by the ones in the trees. Clare strained to breathe through the stress choking her. She tried to guess how many there might be. Too many.
Every time she thought she had them located, more noises emerged from the underbrush, from the branches above, from every side, and even from ahead. A small shape darted across the path. Clare prayed it wouldn’t attack. She could fight the larger hollows, if it came to that. She didn’t know if she would be able to kill a child.
Then they stepped through the edge of the forest, and the clear white field, glaring in the late afternoon sun, stretched ahead of them. Winterbourne loomed in the distance.
Not far now. Twenty minutes, if that.
She chanced a look over her shoulder. Dozens of eyes glittered from between the trees. They’d stopped at the edge of the forest,