Daz took a set of bolt-cutters and opened the gate, while Prav showed them how to put the vests on. The Turners had their shotguns, while she was carrying her Taser with an extra cartridge clipped to the handle. And what have I got? David thought. The first flesh, that was what: Moccus’ blood poisoning his body. So, the god wanted it back, did he? David would be more than happy to oblige.
Prav got into the Defender with them, leaving her car on the road, and they swapped positions – David replacing Dennie in the passenger seat while she was sandwiched protectively between Prav and Daz. They were surprised to find that it was not a dirt track on the other side of the gate but something more like a tarmac driveway. It was covered with leaf-litter and tree branches that had been crushed and splintered as if somebody had driven over them without going to the trouble of clearing them away properly first. Mark took it easy, crawling along as his passengers stared out at the foliage that encroached closely on either side. The engine’s low rumble and the crunching of its tyres through debris only made the silence beneath the trees seem deeper.
In the back, Hob and Bella were restless, growling and whining as if they could smell something that they were simultaneously terrified of but also wanting to rip to shreds.
‘Dogs are spooked,’ said Daz.
‘Probably the things that attacked the station,’ replied Prav. ‘I bet the woods are crawling with them.’
‘There’s a cheery thought,’ said David. ‘Please do not open your windows or feed the animals.’
The trees started to thin and he saw fields appearing between them, and then buildings, but it all had an overgrown and dilapidated look – he saw ruined walls and half-burned cottages and wondered what this place had been.
Then a curve in the road straightened and he saw the church. It too seemed perfectly ordinary, with its square Norman tower and crumbling gravestones, and a man was sitting on a bench in the shade of the lychgate, eating an apple.
‘Yep,’ said Prav. ‘That’s one of them.’
Matt Hewitson looked up as they approached, flicked the half-eaten apple into the long grass of the overgrown graveyard, and stood to meet them, wiping his hands on his trousers. There was a placid smile on his face which could have meant anything.
‘That was quick,’ he called. ‘Where did you—’
But David already had his door open; he leapt around the truck bonnet and punched Hewitson in the face. ‘Shut the fuck up,’ he snarled. ‘Where are my wife and daughter?’ Prav was yelling at him, and he knew it was a stupid move, but even he hadn’t realised he was going to do it until it had happened.
Hewitson fell back, cursing, hands to his face, but when he straightened up he was smiling again. ‘Fair enough,’ he said, massaging his jaw. ‘I suppose I had that coming. Sure, you can come and see them. Word of advice, though?’ he called to the rest of them who were still in the truck. ‘Keep those dogs on a leash when you get out.’
‘Or else what, you little shit?’ shouted Turner.
Hewitson shrugged. ‘Or else they’ll get eaten.’
‘Never mind that, where are Becky and Alice?’ David demanded.
‘Up that way,’ said Hewitson, nodding at the wooded slopes that surrounded the village. ‘It’s not far but we have to go on foot.’
‘It’s just me,’ said David. ‘Nobody else.’
Hewitson shook his head. ‘Not happening. You want to see the little ladies, you come with your friends.’
‘Why?’
‘Because my boss says so, that’s why. Look, if you don’t want to see them, that’s fine, just get back in your big-ass four-wheel drive and go home.’
‘You don’t understand – we have an old woman who can barely walk.’
Hewitson blinked at him. ‘Now what on earth makes you think I give a fuck?’
David turned back to the people in the vehicle. ‘Are we going to do this?’
Prav was checking the cartridge on her Taser. ‘Well, I’m definitely not going to sit here and let you toddle off on your own with that psycho, if that’s what you’re asking.’
‘We didn’t bring these along for decoration,’ said Turner, patting the butt of his shotgun, and Daz nodded.
‘I can walk,’ grunted Dennie. Her face was pale now rather than hectic, but David didn’t know whether this was an improvement or not. ‘Old woman, is it? I’ll old woman your arse, Brian Keeling.’
David traded worried looks with Prav. ‘Is she…?’
Prav shook her head. ‘I don’t know. I just don’t know. The stress of getting us here, maybe?’
Hewitson led them through the graveyard and along a path into the trees on the other side that sloped uphill. David and Prav helped Dennie between them, with Mark Turner in front and Daz behind, each of them with a shotgun in one hand and a tightly leashed dog in the other. Hob and Bella were more restless than they had been in the car. The sense of being watched by unseen eyes was even stronger, and combined with the airless heat it made David’s head swim.
‘Guns and dogs,’ said Hewitson as they walked. ‘How’d that work for you last time?’
Turner bristled but Prav laid a hand on his arm. ‘Don’t. He’s just trying to provoke you.’
‘He’s fucking succeeding,’ Turner growled.
‘This is where it all began, you know,’ Matt continued, unconcerned. ‘The cult of Moccus. Mother always said it was a church, not a cult, but let’s not fool ourselves. Maybe one day when everything’s settled down this will become a place of pilgrimage, but at the moment it’s dead. Time to find a new home, make a fresh start. Just a few loose ends to tidy up first.’
‘What, like us, you mean?’ David asked.
But Hewitson just laughed.
‘David?’ asked Dennie. Her voice was trembling, and she was looking about her in confusion. ‘Are we there?’
‘Yes, Dennie, you got us here.’ He patted her arm and smiled, even though
