Had he imagined it? Could it have been an owl or a fox? He tried to think about what those animals sounded like.
Then another noise came out of the stillness – the crunch of dry leaves, footsteps rushing through the forest somewhere off to Kingsley’s left – reinforcing his initial suspicion that there was somebody out there.
His first thought was, Why would someone be running through the woods in the dark? Then, as the footsteps receded into the night, he wondered again whether it had been a human or an animal. It had sounded too heavy-footed to be any of the small woodland creatures that inhabited the area. But a deer, maybe?
Kingsley’s mind flitted back to the ominous news headline he had read on his phone earlier in the day. What had it said? Something about a zombie virus. Probably another pandemic scare, blown out of proportion through internet propaganda pieces that garnered hysteria.
He looked once again at Eric, who was no longer snoring but continued to sleep like a corpse. Kingsley could not stop shivering, although it wasn’t cold in the tent on that late-summer night.
2.
Morning came with disorienting suddenness. Kingsley’s racing thoughts had kept him from sleep for the next hour after that interruption in the night, and when he finally did manage to doze off, it felt like only a matter of minutes before his eyes were opening again to a dawn-lit tent, the seal unzipped and Eric no longer in bed.
Having pulled on a fresh shirt and jeans, Kingsley crawled out of the tent, running a hand through his hair and already getting irritated at the knots in his ashy blond curls. The first thing that hit him was the smell of porridge oats simmering over the fire. It only occurred to him then how hungry he was, his stomach growling like a feral dog at the suggestion of a meal.
James was the only person there, tending to breakfast by the look of things. When he noticed Kingsley glancing around the camp with a question on his face, he started to explain. “Sammy and Eric went to pick some blackberries. I saw some growing yesterday while we were looking for a good spot to set up the camp, and I thought they might go nicely with the porridge. So they went to pick some while I watch the food. Doesn't that sound delightful?”
“Yeah, amazing. I could really do with some grub to perk me up right now. I’m tired as heck.”
“Really?” James said. “You’ve been asleep for an hour longer than the rest of us.”
“I have? Well, I remember waking up randomly in the middle of the night and it took me a while to get back to sleep because of…” Kingsley shook his head at the words coming from his mouth. “This is going to sound stupid, but I thought I heard someone walking in the woods and it spooked me out.”
“Last night?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure it couldn't have just been a fox?”
“Pretty sure,” Kingsley said. “The footsteps were too loud.”
James frowned. “Why would anyone be…?”
“I don’t know, but I’m almost certain I wasn’t imagining it.”
Just then, they heard Sammy and Eric crunching through the forest litter towards the campsite. They turned and saw the two of them moving between the trees with little mounds of blackberries in their cupped hands.
“Finally,” James said as they walked over to the fire and dropped some berries into the porridge. “We’re starving.”
“Have a nice sleep, Kingsley?” asked Sammy.
“Yeah, I—” His reply was interrupted by a distant but unmistakable sound – a scream, high-pitched and feminine.
Kingsley felt abruptly cold. He knew he hadn’t imagined this one because all four of them turned their heads towards the noise.
James gave Kingsley an anxious glance.
Sammy was the first to speak. “What the hell? Was that from the road?”
“Must have been,” Eric replied. “There’s no one else camping out here, at least I haven’t seen anyone.”
“Shit. What if there’s been a car accident or something? Should we go and check, make sure no one is hurt?”
“Kingsley was just telling me that he heard footsteps near the camp last night,” James added. “This is freaky.”
“Yeah,” said Kingsley.
“Let’s go take a look then.” Eric turned and started to lead the way to the road, going in the direction of the noise.
*
The area in which they were staying was a patchwork of farmland and wooded squares, and their own tents were set up near the edge of the largest of the wooded squares, close to a narrow country road that snaked into the A120. It didn’t take too long to reach the road from the camp.
While they marched through the trees, they heard the same scream again, twice. And each time it was louder than the last.
They were on the right track; whoever was making the noise was almost certainly on the road. This thought did not comfort Kingsley, though. With every step he took, the sense that something terrible was afoot grew more intense.
The trees thinned out ahead of them, and the ground rose and thickened with grass. The barbed wire fence that separated private land from public was visible now – and beyond it, the thing they had dreaded.
A grey finger of smoke coiled in the air. It plumed from the crumpled bonnet of a car that had pivoted into one of the fence posts. Kingsley halted mid-stride at the horrendous sight. He didn’t even mean to. His legs just stopped moving, as if there was a chain attached to him that had reached the end of its tether.
The other three continued to jog towards the crash, cursing in astonishment, while Kingsley’s eyes drank up the carnage. The
