Part 9 (1/2)

”You killed Hayden!” Rosalie spat. She coughed up the remnants of her last meal, and they hung on her chin like wet boils. ”You blew his head off! You shot him! What the h.e.l.l, what's going on, what's happening here. 1 don't know, I don't know...”

The things are coming back in,” Ellie said. She shouldered the gun, leaned through the door and fired at the window. Stray shot plucked at the curtains. There was a cessation of noise from outside, then a rustling, slipping, sliding. It sounded like something flopping around in snow. ”Go and get the boards, you two.”

Rosalie stumbled noisily along the corridor toward the staircase.

”You killed him,” 1 said lamely.

”He was f.u.c.king them,” Ellie shouted. Then, quieter: ”I didn't mean to____________________” She looked at the body on the bed, only briefly but long enough for me to see her eyes narrow and her lips squeeze tight. ”He was f.u.c.king them. His fault.”

”What were they? What the h.e.l.l, I've never seen any animals like them.”

Ellie grabbed my bicep and squeezed hard, eliciting an unconscious yelp. She had fingers like steel nails. They aren't animals,” she said. ”They aren't people. Help me with the door.”

Her tone invited no response. She aimed the gun at the open window for as long as she could while I pulled the door shut. The shotgun blast had blown the handle away, and I could not see how we would be able to keep it shut should the whites return. We stood that way for a while, me hunkered down with two fingers through a jagged hole in the door to try to keep it closed, Ellie standing slightly back, aiming the gun at the pocked wood. I wondered whether I'd end up getting shot if the whites chose this moment to climb back into the room and launch themselves at the door...

Banging and cursing marked Rosalie's return. She carried several snapped floorboards, the hammer and nails. I held the boards up, Rosalie nailed, both of us now in Ellie's line of fire. Again I wondered about Ellie and guns, about her history. I was glad when the job was done.

We stepped back from the door and stood there silently, three relative strangers trying to understand and come to terms with what we had seen. But without understanding, coming to terms was impossible. I felt a tear run down my cheek, then another. A sense of breathless panic settled around me, clasping me in cool hands and sending my heart racing.

”What do we do?” I said. ”How do we keep those things out?”

”They won't get through the boarded windows,” Rosalie said confidently, doubt so evident in her voice.

I remembered how quickly they had moved, how lithe and alert they had been to virtually dodge the blast from Ellie's shotgun.

I held my breath; the others were doing the same.

Noises. Clambering and a soft whistling at first, then light thuds as something ran around the walls of the room, across the ceiling, bounding from the floor and the furniture. Then tearing, slurping, cracking, as the whites fed on what was left of Hayden.

”Let's go down,” Ellie suggested. We were already backing away.

Jayne may be in danger, I thought, recalling her waving to me as she walked naked through the snow. If she was out there, and these things were out there as well, she would be at risk. She may not know, she may be too trusting, she may let them take advantage of her, abuse and molest her- Hayden had been enjoying it. He was not being raped; if anything, he was doing the raping. Even as he died he'd been spurting ignorant bliss across his stomach.

And Jayne was dead. I repeated this over and over, whispering it, not caring if the others heard, certain that they would take no notice. Jayne was dead. Jayne was dead.

I suddenly knew for certain that the whites could smash in at any time, dodge Ellie's clumsy shooting and tear us to shreds in seconds. They could do it, but they did not. They scratched and tapped at windows, clambered around the house, but they did not break in. Not yet.

They were playing with us. Whether they needed us for food, fun or revenge, it was nothing but a game.

Ellie was smas.h.i.+ng up the kitchen.

She kicked open cupboard doors, swept the contents of shelves onto the floor with the barrel of the shotgun, sifted through them with her feet, then did the same to the next cupboard. At first I thought it was blind rage, fear, dread; then I saw that she was searching for something.

”What?” 1 asked. ”What are you doing?”

”Just a hunch.”

”What sort of hunch? Ellie, we should be watching out-”

”There's something moving out there,” Rosalie said.

She was looking through the slit in the boarded window. There was a band of moonlight across her eyes.

”Here!” Ellie said triumphantly. She knelt and rooted around in the mess on the floor, shoving jars and cans aside, delving into a splash of spilled rice to find a small bottle. ”b.a.s.t.a.r.d. The b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Oh G.o.d, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's been doing it all along.”

”There's something out there in the snow,” Rosalie said again, louder this time. ”It's coming to the manor. It's...” Her voice trailed off and 1 saw her stiffen, her mouth slightly open.

”Rosalie?” I moved toward her, but she glanced at me and waved me away.

”It's okay,” she said. ”It's nothing.”

”Look.” Ellie slammed a bottle down on the table and stood back for us to see.

”A bottle.”

Ellie nodded. She looked at me and tilted her head. Waiting for me to see, expecting me to realize what she was trying to say.

”A bottle from Hayden's food cupboard,” I said.

She nodded again.

I looked at Rosalie. She was still frozen at the window, hands pressed flat to her thighs, eyes wide and full of the moon. ”Rosie?” She only shook her head. Nothing wrong, the gesture said, but it did not look like that. It looked like everything was wrong, but she was too afraid to tell us. I went to move her out of the way, look for myself, see what had stolen her tongue.

”Poison,” Ellie revealed. I paused, glanced at the bottle on the table. Ellie picked it up and held it in front of a candle, shook it, turned it this way and that.

”Poison. Hayden's been cooking for us ever since we've been here. And he's always had this bottle. And a couple of times lately, he's added a little extra to certain meals.”

”Brand,” I nodded, aghast. ”And Boris. But why? They were outside. They were killed by those things-”

”Torn up by those things,” Ellie corrected. ”Killed in here. Then dragged out.”

”By Hayden?”

She shrugged. ”Why not? He was f.u.c.king the whites.”

”But why would he want to... Why did he have something against Boris and Brand? And Charley? An accident, like he said?”

”I guess he gave her a helping hand,” Ellie mused, sitting at the table and rubbing her temples. ”They both saw something outside. Boris and Brand, they'd both seen things in the snow. They made it known. They told us all about it, and Hayden heard as well. Maybe he felt threatened. Maybe he thought we'd steal his little s.e.x mates.” She stared down at the table, at the rings burnt there over the years by hot mugs, the scratches made by endless cutlery. ”Maybe they told him to do it.”

”Oh, come on!” I felt my eyes go wide like those of a rabbit caught in car headlights.

Ellie shrugged, stood and rested the gun on her shoulder. ”Whatever, we've got to protect ourselves. They may be in soon, you saw them up there. They're intelligent. They're-”

”Animals!” I shouted. ”They're animals! How could they tell Hayden anything? How could they get in?”

Ellie looked at me, weighing her reply.

”They're white animals, like you said!”

Ellie shook her head. ”They're new. They're unique. They're a part of the change.”